XS?
Conclusion With Australia’s Economic Exclusions Zone now one of the largest in the world, and, with the limits of the virtual zoom extents having now been reached, whats next? Whats next for ‘Australian’ territory, and what is next for remote visual access of this territory? And, what does this mean for the role of the designer? But perhaps more interestingly, how has this process of remotely zooming in informed my ideas of ‘remoteness’, and what can this process of zooming in and establishing areas of interest offer to a practice of landscape architecture - whether that be my own practice moving forward, or, for the discipline more generally? Critically reflecting, was my search for ‘remote’, both conceptually and spatially on the map, as much driven by an aesthetic desire as it was informed by environmental or spatial conditions? Yes. Was I perhaps more interested in finding locations that looked or felt more ‘remote’ than areas defined by interesting relationships between conditions? Yes. This perhaps offers something to the idea of ‘remoteness’. Perhaps a definition of ‘remoteness’ has become, throughout this project, less about either the ‘traditional’ (the image of a hot dry endless red expanse, in the middle of nowhere, miles away from help) or my personal alternative (a place that instills a feeling of distance with one’s self, regardless of the location or physical distance from a point of origin), but instead something in-between these ideas. Is the ‘remote’ then an ‘aesthetic’ as much as it is a measure of physical distance, or personal distance from one’s self? If then the ‘remote’ is considered as ‘aesthetic’ how does this manipulate, but also open up, the process of exploring sites? And, if my future landscape architectural practice is concerned with developing projects that interrogate the hidden ‘activity’ that lies ‘out there’ (both in the sense of physical distance, but also in the collective’s understanding of the world around us), then the perhaps this process has something to offer the selection of sites. The Bouncing between path and plot, is like venturing out and then retreating back inwards, imagining a point of isolation and then imagining the feeling of wanting to return back to the safety of infrastructure. The sites that emerged from this process are definitely worthy of future design research exploration. The process of finding these sites, it worth developing, but also worth remaining critical about. Is the process of zooming in from a far not too dissimilar to that of a colonising practice? And Is the craving of finding the ‘new’ or ‘undiscovered’ project concept some what similar to searching for new areas to expand one’s territory. As Designers, there can be desire, amongst a culture of innovation, to work with the ‘new’ and the ‘hidden’, especially with more focus (and perhaps even a trend) towards anthropocentric activity. A refection for myself and for others would be to remain mindful of why I am selecting the sites and project concepts I am. Remain critical to how you are expanding your territory and which conceptual spaced you are occupying. Remain aware of any potential fallout. Reflection on process Not knowing, or not being able to articulate the project was a place I found myself in for the majority of the semester. It was not until about 3 weeks out from the end the the projects narrative came together. While the clarification and ‘light bulb’ moment was immensely satisfying and exciting, it came with the realisation of how much work was still involved to see out the project. The concept had essentially set up a whole new exercise of mapping; a exploration of personally zooming into the ‘remote’ (south australia) via the ‘remote’ (a virtual platform). With limited time, some aspects of the mapping fell short, as particular elements of the process were not executed to the greatest level of detail. Without the level of detail being carried across, and developing, across each scale of the map, it meant the outcomes of the process formed in quite a particular way and leaves the question, what would they have become if the level of detail was consistent throughout the process? For example, the 4 layers of information, Topography, Climate, Red Dirt, and National Remoteness, that were used to create the ‘remote’ boundary, started off using 4 different base maps at the Australian scale. Here, the detail of each piece of information was more or less consistent with each. As I moved to the next scale however, I ran out of time to update this information in some ways. That is, I was able to find a new level of detailed topographic data, and I was able to zoom into the aerial image, however I did not leave myself enough time to search for more detailed climatic conditions or a more detailed study of ‘distance from services by locality’ study’. This meant the way in which each of the four elements were impacting the creation of the ‘remote’ boundary was inconsistent, especially when, by the fourth scale, the only piece of information that was more detailed from the original layer used, was that of the aerial image - this also happened to be one of more ‘subjective’ pieces of informative information (the extraction of an outline was determined by my eye, instead of a scientific analysis). While this is frustrating in the sense that it doesn’t feel like I saw out a ‘fair test’ in a sense, it does make for an interesting note to my conclusion. With the ‘remote’ boundary becoming in some ways more a ‘subjective’ construct, dominated by my personal visual interoperation, ideas of aesthetics and the image begin to speak to ideas of remoteness.
‘Remoteness’ as
‘Something’ as
‘Nothingness’ as
‘Remote’ Australia as
‘Fallout’ as
‘Aesthetic’ as
Document as
With thanks to
Remoteness as ‘nothingness’ Remoteness as ‘Everything’ or ‘Something’ Remoteness as a combination of the two Remoteness as the feeling of distance from one’s self Remoteness as an aesthetic Remoteness as a site Remoteness as a concept Remoteness as a project
‘Something’ as hidden activity ‘Something’ as roads ‘Something’ as nuclear testing ‘Something’ as systems and processes ‘Something’ as invisible history ‘Something’ as material flows ‘Something’ as stories ‘Something’ as paths once traveled ‘Something’ as remote coverage ‘Something’ as points on a map ‘Something’ as narrative ‘Something’ as the horizon
‘Nothingness’ as white space ‘Nothingness’ as emptyness ‘Nothingness’ as negative space ‘Nothingness’ as the feeling of distance ‘Nothingness’ as the feeling of numbness ‘Nothingness’ as no nuclear fall out ‘Nothingness’ as an endless expanse ‘Nothingness’ as a ongoing repetitive visual ‘Nothingness’ as the horizon
Remote Australia as ‘out there’? Remote Australia as the place where hidden activity lies Remote Australia as ‘nothingness’ but ‘everthing’ Remote Australia as a potential site for future design research project Remote Australia as the image built into our national identity Remote Australia as an aesthetic
Fallout as losing your bearings Fallout as confusion Fallout as a conceptual break through in ones process Fallout as unintended effect Fallout as an accident Fallout as a light bulb moment Fallout as impressive
Aesthetic as visual Aesthetic as ‘a vibe’ Aesthetic as ‘an image’ Aesthetic as a feeling Aesthetic as more than visual Aesthetic as the every day Aesthetic as a written description
Document as a reflection Document as a method for finding site’s Document as ongoing exploration Document as a learning process Document as a collection of subjective maps Document as a tool for understanding ‘remoteness’ Document as a collection of territories
Dinkums Print and Copy for their patience and assistance in scanning over 100 A1 layers of trace paper. Oskar Rosa for his assistance with deriving a grasshopper script capable of fallout data translation. Elise and Tom, for their ongoing support, critical feedback, and interest in my project. Thank you for showing me a whole new approach to landscape.
