SENSES issue #4
Adrian Alexandrescu Nadhira Halim Sofia Edwards Dafydd Davies
EDITED BY with lots of help from Daniel Bianchi Dale Ratcliff Sonia Tong Rob Dutton Dana Raslan
Elena Barti Harriet Garbutt
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3 // Interview - Dr. Jon Goodbun 11// DS6 SENSES_agenda 15 // SENSES Devices & people _Mind & heart 17 // Technology in the studio 21 // SENSES Devices & people _urban cache 25 // Integrity and diversity 33 // Beauty is skin deep 41 // Light in the Eastern Orthodox Church 47 // Imaginary city space 49 // Multi-sensing space 57 // Sensing Romania 61 // Exhibition Review - Constanct. New Babylon 67 // Through Camden eyes 71 // Illustration - Dead mum dedication 73 // Through the looking glass
Foreword from our sponsors Robin Partington & Partners
B
uildings temper our environment, a buffer between the inside and outside world. They inform our senses and influence our emotions, in use or simply passing by. The choice of materials and the way that we configure space controls what we see, the way that we feel, what we hear, smell and touch. The shape of space can help to make it legible and intuitive to use, we can add theatre, create a sense of arrival or retreat. Landscape, the glue that sticks our buildings together, defines routes, connectivity and permeability, creating a setting and sense of belonging, placemaking. Buildings can make you feel safe and secure or edgy and vulnerable, warm and friendly or cold and austere. The quality of design, and the integrity of our buildings and
their context is fundamental to our sense of wellbeing. The most successful are created by true craftsmen with a fundamental understanding and sensitivity for the materials that they use. Architecture is a collaborative process, it is absolutely about inspired teamwork, the art of the possible. We are intuitive and pragmatic, we understand where to be rigorous and when to be flexible. We believe in enjoyable buildings, enjoyable to create, enjoyable to live and work in, enjoyable environments for our future. An architect may never meet the final occupant, but a truly successful building communicates a simple message to those who use it, that the architect cared. Robin Partington Andi Kercini
Editorial I
n ‘The Eyes of the Skin’ published in 1996, Finnish architect Juhani Pallasmaa claims that, “While our experience of the world is formulated by a combination of five senses, much architecture is produced under consideration of only one – sight”. However, he continues to explore the role of other senses in “authentic architectural experiences”, and points the way towards a multisensory architecture which facilitates a sense of belonging and integration. As architecture students, we began to realise that our education have encouraged us to think of architecture as a whole experience, and that we hardly discuss architecture solely on its visual aspect. Having said that, our ability to discuss and analyse architecture based on our different sensors are triggered by the unique sightfocused architecture of Le Corbusier, Zaha Hadid and Richard Meyer, the embodied human experience of works by Alvar Aalto and Frank Lloyd Wright, and experiencing the multitude of sensory experiences by the works of Peter Zumthor and Steven Holl, amongst others. Studying and visiting the works of these incredible designers have helped us form the ability to appreciate, discuss, critique, and more importantly experience their buildings.
As the second generation of editors of the OSA magazine, we wanted to create an issue that is in line with everything we’re exploring within our design studios, but also an issue that would generate ongoing conversations on a topic that our readers may or may not agree with. With that in mind, we’re thrilled to introduce to you our First Issue by the Second Generation – Senses. We set out this issue to recognise and cherish the teachings of our education, where sight is only one of many senses to be explored; where our skin plays a major role in the architectural engagement, and where the realms of hearing, smell and taste are also recognised in the architectural experience. We acknowledge the broad aspect of this theme, but figured it would make it all the more exciting! We were keen to see how our readers and contributors perceive the topic within design and architecture, and to see what ideas are put forth. We kick off this issue with one close to home: an article by DS6 tutors Nick McGough and Karl KjelstrupJohnson describing their studio framework that operates by the strategies of Sense, Wear, Map, Analyse, Speculate. We than continue the conversation with various authors’ take on senses – from Greek religious architecture to a photo essay on repetitive patterns, to real life sensory experiences of architecture, spaces, and so much more. While working on this issue, our team experienced and engaged with various forms of senses – the aroma of our multiple cups of coffee as we excitedly read through each article, the joy (and concentration) of choosing the exact shade of colour and font, hearing each other’s ideas and laughter over meetings, the number of fabrics we felt and stroked for this edition, and most of all, understanding a great sense of working together. We hope you’ll
have as much fun reading this issue as much as we had working on it. For our second and final issue as editors, we’d like to engage our readers and ask you what you’d like to discuss and read about in the next issue. We’re therefore organising a competition for ideas on the next theme. Check out page www.osamag.co.uk for more details, and we’re honoured to have Robin Partington and Partners seeing your entries and judge the competition. Until then, we hope you enjoy this issue. Happy reading, and explore your senses…all of them!
The Editors
Interview: Dr. Jon GooDbun Dafydd Jones-Davies
This is an interview conducted on the 30.10.15 between Dr. Jon Goodbun and OSA editor Dafydd Jones-Davies.
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People like George Lakoff and Mark Johnson argue that at the entirety of our language and our concepts are actually just maps based upon things which are ultimately bodily metaphors, are ultimately bodily maps which we’re just abstracting and abstracting into a language in various ways and that actually all the brain is doing is mapping exercises of various kinds. One of these maps basically maps the sphere around you that you can reach with your limbs.
“He realised that there was two maps running across the cortex; one to do with movement and one to do with sensing.” DJD: So, you’re conscious of that? JG: Well we’re unconscious of that. It can be shown that we’re constantly thinking about it. There are tests that have been done, using Macaque monkeys, which show how these maps differ. For example, where you can see that my wine glass here is within my reach we could show that these are firing different maps. Now I’m not actually seeing that difference but it could be shown that I’m experiencing that. You could probably get a different emotional reaction out of me if someone else were to come along and take my glass rather than your glass, or reach for it, because that is within this spatial field and it’s within ‘my space’.
So, it seems likely that the Himba thing, if we take their testimony as truth, and presume they’re not lying and there’s no reason to think they are, is true. We know that exactly what gets fed into the visual cortex is different amongst different people. Synesthetic people are just visualising some of these maps in different ways. DJD: So these maps, are a collection of neurons that discuss amongst themselves? JG: Yes they are just neural networks. Which start off in a very pragmatic way. They are to do with just working out the body and it seems more advanced forms of intelligence, as it were, is just built upon abstractions of these initial body maps. DJD: From a subjective/objective position how can anything ever be truly objective then? JG: Well it just means things need to be discussed, I think. The recognition of how we construct our worlds, which comes out of this work, means not that there isn’t a real world out there but that our construction of it are enormously shared in lots of ways; our language, we’re in the same spaces, we’re in similar bodies, there’s lots of reasons why your experience and my experience will be very similar but equally there will be differences and that’s enough reason to talk to each other. DJD: So, to elaborate on the mapping, when you pick up tools does your body extend to include that tool? JG: Yes. So, the maps I was talking about, the peri-personal space
Frame from the video interview with Dr. Jon Goodbun
maps where this glass would be within mine and yours wouldn’t, but if I was to pick up a tool like this book and actually use it for a moment to move things around then that will actually extend my peri-personal space map to include your wine glass because I can now reach it with this tool. DJD: So, late at night at home when you need to go to the toilet, without any lighting I know my way down the stairs, which creak, I know where the bannister is, I know that place so intimately that in some ways my senses are dulled because I know the house so well the house is almost an extension of my body. Where as, if I’m in a new house my senses are heightened. JG: So, some of this is about what needs to be consciously reflected upon. The philosopher Thomas Metzinger has done some interesting work in this area. That consciousness is around the need to look at, what he calls, our perceptual body maps. So, if you’re in something that’s unfamiliar that you need to reflect upon this more. But as you say familiar places are just incorporated into your extended schema. DJD: Is this part of Hegel’s concepts? As to where is the distinction between the glass, the table, that they’re all connected? JG: Well there are lots of world views that the way in which we break things down into objects is a product of our previous mapping exercises, the way in which our language is working and so on. There’s the famous example of Borges talking about Eskimos and snow - Eskimos have twenty different words for
snow where we’d just see snow. But it’s crystal clear to them that you have freshly dropped snow, snow that’s been there for a week and that’s about turn icy and snow that’s about to melt. These are perceptual differences that require new words. DJD: I’ve read some Tim Ingold last year and he’s very interested in that inter-connectivity between things which seems to follow on from some of these concepts.
“Eskimos have twenty different words for snow where we’d just see snow.” JG: Yes, he’s an anthropologist which in some ways has a lot to share with architecture in a sense. In that it’s a discipline that has a lot of things crossing over into it. So, it has a certain familiarity with various bits of neurocognitive sciences, with sociology, anthropology a mixture of scientific and humanistic studies which is an interesting place to be at the moment. Ingold is one of the characters who has been a part of realising the importance of process and relational thinking in general, that’s been an interesting development in recent years. DJD: By process thinking is this relating to the idea of the axe that Ingold talks about. Is the shape of the axe preformed in the mind of the creator or is it a construct of the two, of the material and the actor?
Frame from the video interview with Dr. Jon Goodbun
JG: Yes, that sort of thing. David Bohm is someone I’ve found interesting. He was a quantum physicist who argued that a lot of the paradoxes of quantum theory are actually paradoxes produced by our language. So, what look like a wave particle issue is actually just a fact that we have one word for particles and other words for waves, we don’t have a word for things that combine attributes of both. So, it looks to us like a strange paradox when it’s just
“In the West, in any case, we have a language dominated by nouns.” something that is. But he made a bigger point that in the West, in any case, we have a language dominated by nouns. So, we basically talk about nouns, talk about objects and then do things to them. He suggested first of all that the world isn’t really made up of objects at all but processes, some of which are slower than others. This table is a bunch of wood things, that were growing have been through a certain set of processes and is now in a slow process of deterioration. Some of its evaporating and some of its falling on the floor but we call it a table because that’s useful for us and we think about it as an object but it’s actually a whole series of processes. So, he suggested if we could shift to a verb based language, a language that is based around processes, which he called the Rheomode the flowing mode then that would actually equip us much better for dealing with a whole series of problems. Some of which was around quantum theory. But
people like Gregory Bateson, a cybernetician and ecologist, use to talk about epistemological error, that these ways of thinking aren’t just minor problems but they’re actually, as Bateson argued, are behind the environmental things that we cause. This is actually a problem with how we are seeing the world which then has real effects upon the world.
Frame from the video interview with Dr. Jon Goodbun
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The studio of SENSES_ agenda DS6
Oxford School of Architecture is developing a new way of architectural thinking, highlighted by DS6, one of the second year master studios, which creates a parallel between digital and organic with people as the link.
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SENSES, Devices & people _Mind & heart Galina Borovikova
MArchD, DS6 graduate Galina Borovikova is exploring the connection between the heart, mind and sounds through her wearable device that records the heartbeat and feeds them back to the user
Š Galina Borovikova
Š Galina Borovikova
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12-15 Prototype Seven worked, a much smaller more efficient device. Messages could successfully be sent anonymously. This was tested out in Tokyo. Re-coding allowed the device to even write Tokyo in Kanji by scrolling vertically instead of horizontally, proving its adaptability to new environments. 16/17 Much like the multitude of rituals over in Japan, this method was named “ritualistic refinement’ in honour to the local culture. This image and diagram hopefully explains this, as getting a successful message was in part due to a lot of trial and error. However to me it was exactly the same process one uses to take a great photograph. 18 Every single idea throughout my year was recorded. Inspired by Grasshopper I drew up a cause and effect diagram plotting how these ideas all influenced each other and prompted new ideas. All starting off from those keys points back in week 1, or semester 1. It was an extremely useful method to visually see the development of my technological devices, and subsequently my design project.
© Matthew José
© Matthew José
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Š Alexander Blackmore
SENSES, Devices & people _urban cache Alexander Blackmore
MArchD DS6 Graduate Alexander Blackmore shares his final year project for Tokyo through which he aims to redefine the role of the architect, not a creator of a single entity, rather a system for interpretation or in simplistic terms.
Semester Concept
w hen people think architecture they envisage a physical
connection to a place or site, dictating its genius loci. It is contemporary patterns formed from the everyday which begin to shift this paradigm, and place architecture in a world of virtual and invisible reality. It is this line of thought which positions the developed piece of architecture not in an external place but rather internally using our own body and in particular our minds as a context for design. Having such parameter begins to question the role of the architect and that of architecture - does architecture need to be physical or is it evolving into an invisible geometry which shapes how we use and interact with space?
Wearable Emerging out of a series of rigorous experiments and studies the final wearable is a tool which detects patterns of subconscious conditions and awaken through flash blindness. Flash blindness as a condition temporarily bleaches the eyes retina meaning it is not possible to focus upon objects within close range or afar. The recovery time varies from two to three minutes and it is within this timeframe where we rely on our long term intuition and focus on retrieving internal data rather than being informed by what is around us. In effect this device enables us to break out of a controlled society and access our values and core ethics which inform and dictate our use of space.
Š Alexander Blackmore
Patterns - Mapping Using the body and in particular the mind as a site for exploration the system can be developed and designed as a vernacular to its context. The minds typical process of access, retrieve and action means the code incorporates a number of boolean values which become structural dependencies within the system. By this it is meant that when one fails the whole system has the ability to reset and return to its idle state.
“This device enables us to break out of a controlled society and access our values and core ethics which inform and dictate our use of space.� Though the device is simple in principle the code supplied has far greater complexity. Unlike traditional and more common codes, the system relies on two loops rather than one. In doing so this separates the structure giving it a logic and provide stability. By embedding a series of nested loops within the main system, a failure to a single element means the system as a whole does not fail rather the element has the ability to rebuild and construct itself again through a set of dynamic parameters which construct an evolving stability.
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© Alexander Blackmore
© Alexander Blackmore
Integrity and diversity Manalee nanavati
Manalee Nanavati, a final year MA student in International Architecture Regeneration & Development, explores the repetition and differentiation of patterns and the perception that is formed in an ever-changing context.
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epetition, or originally “repetere” in Latin, is defined as the manifestation of similarity. Accordingly, a repetitive pattern is referred to as a pattern formed by same or similar entities (Kepes, 1944). Notably, Dr. Bohm, one of the most influential scientists of the 20th century, argues that this factor of similarity serves as the key order for human perception (Bohm and Nichol, 1998). In his opinion, the field of human perception is directly dependent on the field of memory. Henceforth, in perceiving any new entity, primarily it is compared with our memory built by the previous perceptions. The similarities are successively separated from the differences, and both are grouped independently, based on which, eventually, the new perception is formed (Bohm, 1987, 1998). To understand this argument, the figure below (Fig. 1) illustrates how the grouping of similarity forms various perceptions.
“It is therefore that a repetitive pattern invariably presents the perception of integrity.” Herein, a remarkable observation is that although a column is perceived as an independent entity, a group of columns engenders a new perception of “space”. Correspondingly, any change in the grouping of columns changes the perception of space. Thus, it can be derived that in a repetitive pattern, the perception of the group is conspicuously different than that of the individual entities themselves. This phenomenon is further elucidated by
Piaget (1967), who asserts that owing to their similarity, the entities in a repetitive pattern establish an interrelationship among one another, which results in a new perception of the compositional whole. It is therefore that a repetitive pattern invariably presents the perception of integrity. Furthermore, the characteristics of the composition are directly determined by both the entities and the interrelationship contain specific characteristics (Kepes, 1966; Arnheim, 1977). Henceforth, by changing either of the two, the resultant composition presents a different perception as is noticed in figure 1. This interrelationship among similar entities is termed as ‘order’ by Gombrich (1979). Order in any compositional whole, according to him, provides rules to unify its constituent parts and provide each one a ‘unique placement and value to achieve the desired value of the whole’ (Gombrich, 1979). Moreover, according to the established order, a repetitive pattern can grow endlessly (Thompson and Bonner, n.d.). However, human perception demonstrates a limit to scale (Piaget and Inhelder, 1967) (Fig.2); hence, on exceeding a certain scale, the repetitive pattern presents the apprehension of causing monotony. The repeated becomes predicted and in turn, redundant. Subsequently, such pattern often leads to a mechanical production of spaces that fail to offer any perceptual variety. The monotony, nevertheless, can be broken by introducing ‘difference’ in a repetitive pattern. This difference can be in the form of different entities, or it can be in the form of a difference in the order; in any form, the experience of variety appeals to the human perception (Brommer, 1975). However, as indicated
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generating a new play altogether. Such a simple play of repetition and differentiation gives possibilities for new structures of perception to find scope. Nevertheless, too many differences can cause the system to fall apart. Hence, a balance is necessary between similarity and difference. In other words, the integrity needs to be maintained along with the introduction of diversity in order to attain the desired quality of the compositional whole. Such a balance can be achieved through the hierarchical structure of orders. The hierarchy of orders not only overcomes the limitations of a repetitive pattern but also provides new potentialities to the same. Consequently, the repetitive pattern can be employed in a creative manner, and in turn can shape a harmonious, yet diverse built environment.
Š Kelsi Farrington
Beauty is skin deep Kelsi Farrington
History, culture, tradition and craftsmanship; MA Publishing Graduate Kelsie Farington takes us on a journey to Bahamas where the little island of Green Turtal Cay keeps hidden a fragile but enduring home, completed about 150 years ago.
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n countless communities around the world, old and historic buildings, which have withstood multiple decades, storms and (as with changing seasons) have seen different occupants, passers-by and guests across centuries, are being torn down. Erased from history and from memory, merely for being old. In instances like these, is architecture merely an opportunity to witness the end result, prime notoriety comprised of modern materials and a ‘forward-thinking’, encrypted vision? Or can old, decrepit shells of ‘what once was’, hold both beauty and lessons of practicality and good craftsmanship for new designers to take note?
“These structures have been just as they were built to be: a ‘home’ to people long before our time.” When you see an old home, descriptors like ‘decrepit’, ‘unstable’, ‘old-fashioned’ and ‘eyesore’ can often flow from the mouths of the next generation (or two, or three). What these offhand utterances fail to suggest is that for a given time span, which has seen not just seasons change but entire shifts in society’s structure and makeup, these structures have been just as they were built to be: a ‘home’ to people long before our time. People with far different plights that we #struggle with today. They hold history, memories...embedded in their ‘being’ like thick, peelable layers of paint. Take a look closer, within their walls and their foundations, and some can tell quite the tale.
A prime example of homes with a similar story can be found on one island, unknown to many, but with history and craftsmanship intertwined in a final few examples of traditional Bahamian architecture. In the Western waters of the Atlantic Ocean, time stands still in the colonial settlement of New Plymouth, Green Turtle Cay. One home in particular is a two-story build, circa 1860. Not as old as some other homes which once populated the 5-kilometre-long island, this one example is one of the remaining few. You can now count the number of ‘decrepit’, ‘unstable’, ‘termite-ridden’ homes like this, the Chamberlain House, on one hand.
“The Chamberlain House plays a significant role in the history of the now less populated island, partly for its look, but mainly due to it’s previous owners and tenants.” This island, and this building for that matter, may seem entirely insignificant in the bigger picture but there’s a catch. In 1860, Green Turtle Cay was a hub of activity. It was lively, buzzing for its time and it brought ‘all kinds’ (a local phrase which means different types of people) to its cinema, live performances and
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© Kelsi Farrington
population growth, profitability and popularity. Such devastation forced many to relocate, some of whom literally moved their lives and similarly styled homes (those that had survived) to other islands or further still to Key West in Florida.
“While winds ripped and tore roofs and collapsed other structures like child’s play, this house quickly became a makeshift clinic, as many huddled in the basement” In a journal entry by a journalist from New York who was visiting Green Turtle Cay during the Great Hurricane, he told how he had taken shelter in Dr Kendrick’s home which quickly became a place of safety and refuge. While winds ripped and tore roofs and collapsed other structures like child’s play, this house quickly became a makeshift clinic, as many huddled in the basement. Yet although many houses around this ‘Clinic’ were destroyed, this house stood and continues to stand after over a century of hurricanes. The answer as to how that may be potentially lies in the inner shell of the house, which today merely echoes its stories. The foundation was carved out of local coral (or possibly even out of the island itself) which undeniably aids in its longevity. Or there’s another reason. Many locals, whose parents or grandparents lived
or even built houses like this, will give you one straight answer for their resilience: “Abaco pine”. Once locally grown, perhaps over-taken by the once profitable sisal industry, Abaco pine was a unique and entirely local building material heralded for its resistance of the elements, its longevity and hardiness, and most importantly its natural scent which repels termites. But this home, is one of the last to use this particular resource because it’s no longer grown. This sad fate, in light of the evidence that the use of Abaco pine by early architects or craftsmen or standard builders (who were also mariners, doctors and missionaries), has been a key factor as to why these houses still stand as they once were.
Man forever has had the ability to adapt and survive, even if given the most limited of resources. In a means to keep this one example from collapsing, its current owner (a retired American architect) decided to step in, disgusted at the idea of this beautiful relic being torn down. What she referred to as a ‘gentle restoration process’, the new owner has used much of the materials that were capsuled in the basement such as the dismantled downstairs’ wooden floor which had been cleverly elevated off of the ground on top of pieces of coral to prevent rotting. Blocks of wood, which originally provided support for the building, can still be picked up off of the dirt
Š Kelsi Farrington
basement floor, still distinctively pine even now, 150 years after it was built. What can also be witnessed is also the backdated structural techniques of pegging the wood together, a simplistic yet probably fairly standard procedure of house-building in its time. With hurricanes an annual threat (a clock-work season starting June until November), could this have been a proven method of keeping the structure strong yet able to flex against extreme wind? Long past a generation of mariners, hardy island people who had made practical yet easily stylish homes using local materials, it is fair to say that regardless of their simplistic solutions concrete is presently man’s more valued protector. In a time before Columbus’ discovery, when the islands were populated by its native Indians (the Lucayans), these original Bahamians lived in straw huts on beaches. In the event of a hurricane, these indigenous tribes would seek shelter in nearby caves. Man forever has had the ability to adapt and survive, even if given the most limited of resources. Each step-up in the process of becoming better equipped with the knowledge of style and the development of the next, increasingly cutting-edge materials, what is notably lost are elements of what those before us proved to quite simply work. There is due admiration in the amount of craftsmanship that went into the construction of houses like this one. If a structure can withstand 150-years-worth of hurricanes, built with local materials and simple techniques of wood and stone, which
possesses an ever growing history, why erase something that is more of a solution, a relic, than it is ‘old’...’decrepit’.
Perspective from St Andrew the Apostle Court (‘Curtea St Apostol Andrei’), night © Prof. Dr. Augustin Ioan
Light in the Eastern Orthodox Churches DR. PROFESSOR Augustin Ioan Lecturer at Ion Mincu University in Bucharest, Romania, Dr Augustin Ioan elaborates on the study undertaken for his winning entry for the Eastern Orthodox Patriarchal Cathedral of Bucharest, Romania (2002) by looking at the power that light and darkness have in defining an architectural monument.
The night perspectives are meant to illustrate the way in which the church is reflected onto the city by the smooth finish of the pavement leading to its entrance. Š Prof. Dr. Augustin Ioan
Perspective from St Andrew the Apostle Court (‘Curtea St Apostol Andrei’), night Š Prof. Dr. Augustin Ioan
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he darkness in local pre- and post-Byzantine Orthodox architecture derives, most likely, from meager technological solutions, and not from some sort of metaphysics of the mediating penumbra, (in the Christly sense), that unites, somewhere above, the porch to the naos. As soon as some minimal prosperity, be it real or imaginary, allowed it, religious as well as civil architecture began to strive, and interior spaces became brighter. The gold used in paintings enhanced the interior light provided by candelabra and candles. To those who believe in the immanent dwarfism of Byzantine-inspired architecture, the Saint Sofia tells a different, not just original story. The same space, bathed in such light that seems to decapitate and elevate onto glory the cupola (as Procopius of Caesarea figuratively describes it) proves to penumbra worshippers that there is no alternative to the metaphysics of godly light, and earthly Eastern Orthodoxy could not be an exception by itself. From its threshold to the penumbra of the altar, the church features a range of spaces, with the public component transitioningleaving more and more room to the private. The breach between the inherently public space of the naos and the pre-eminently private altar (owed to the posticonoclastic enthusiasm of the faithful to offer divine representations to churches) is equally marked physically by the iconostasis and the podium in front of it (sola). There are degrees of visibility here too. In Greek churches, (especially the new churches of the American Antiochian or Greek-Orthodox communities) the altar is quite visible. Whereas they become practically undetectable in Russian places of worship, where the multi-layered iconostasis prevents any possibility of a glance.
“Stained glass often filters this light, recounting in images what the Eastern Orthodox church puts in icons and frescoes.� Somewhere between these two stand the local Romanian Orthodox churches that allow visual access at least to the semi-cap above the altar where the Virgin and Infant are painted. The prevailing presence of Christ Pantocrator on the one hand, and the penumbra of the altar on the other (especially when the Crucifixion cross-icon that tops the iconostasis, and which has a much more powerful significance, and intervenes between the line of vision of the faithful), relegate the respective maternity fresco to the background. Our idea is to use visibility strategies and focused interior light in order to provide equal focus in the space suspended above the altar: the birth, the death and resurrection of Christ. Light obviously plays a special role in the architecture of Eastern Orthodox and Catholic churches. The difference does not lie in its quantity (maximized by candelabra and candles or nowadays by electric lighting), but in its distribution and significance. Western religious spaces are particularly fascinated by light., and starting with the In Gothic (especially British perpendicular Gothic) it is given prominence, often to the detriment of the opaque wall surface. Stained glass often filters this light, recounting in images what the Eastern Orthodox church puts in icons and frescoes. In the case of a basilica, it is uniformly distributed along the long sides and in depth. I(if the church features three naves, the middle one is super-elevated to make room for
The night perspectives are meant to illustrate the way in which the church is reflected onto the city by the smooth finish of the pavement leading to its entrance. Š Prof. Dr. Augustin Ioan
Perspective from St Andrew the Apostle Court (‘Curtea St Apostol Andrei’), night © Prof. Dr. Augustin Ioan
another row of windows). Moreover, in these spaces light is directional in character, unimpeded by any obstacle, its source (the stained-glass window) being witnessed evidenced (turning into a character) in the interior space by the neutral color of the opaque surface (that in exchange serves as the background). Further on, this direction of natural light within the sacred space keeps it somehow bound to the exterior space. Owing to the way it is lit, interior space in a church resembles exterior space, as if twisted like the Mobius strip in order to reach inside, and not an actual interior space. The inner walls of the church with their colonnades and statues seem akin to facades, marking yet another public place. Could the obscurity in Eastern Orthodox churches be due to some philosophy of the barely glimpsed, of dim light that ushers in interior light (so important for hesychast asceticism)? Historians demonstrate that this semi-darkness stems from a dearth of construction means in vernacular architecture, where any opening in a wall spells a peril for stability. On the contrary, big churches, from Saint Sofia to the inter-war churches in Romania are lit adequately, if not abundantly.
“On the contrary, big churches, from Saint Sofia to the inter-war churches in Romania are lit adequately, if not abundantly.” In the case of the Eastern Orthodox Church, with a plan that centers around the turret or the cupola over the naos, and also in the case of
“There is the same form of alabaster delineating the main turret so that the most important icon of the Eastern Orthodox Church, Jesus Pantokrator, be framed by soft rays of light� Renaissance or neo (classical) churches, light concentrates on the inside or in relation to this point in space. It is from the icon on the cupola or turret, that represents Jesus Pantokrator, descending then to the Apostles and the groups of saints and evangelists, that light comes onto the heads of the faithful. All the while the hagiographic cohorts preserve maximum visibility. Procopius of Caesarea enthused about the way the cupola of such churchess is lit. To him the dome of Saint Sofia seemed suspended in light; and, above all, he mused that interior light originated not from outside the church, but from within the sacred space. When used, the fresco, while absorbing part of the light, enhances it. Similarly in Byzantine churches and the Casin Monastery in Bucharest, mosaics make the space iridescent, and the light source becomes impossible to detect when it reflects in all directions. Natural light is brought inside as aureoles ofin the lateral exedras and toof the altar, not via windows (that place a time stamp on any building no matter how sacred or monumental it wants to be) but through a continuous band of translucent alabaster plates. Thus in daytime the
The night perspectives are meant to illustrate the way in which the church is reflected onto the city by the smooth finish of the pavement leading to its entrance. Š Prof. Dr. Augustin Ioan
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Perspective from Romanian Nation’s Pantheon (‘Panteonul Neamului Romanesc’), night © Prof. Dr. Augustin Ioan
The towers of the Patriarchal Cathedral (‘Catedrala Patriarhala’) stand as a guiding beacon of the city, defining its central point © Prof. Dr. Augustin Ioan
Interior perspective towards the altar. Greek cross vault inscribed within a square Š Prof. Dr. Augustin Ioan
Descending view towards the altar Š Prof. Dr. Augustin Ioan
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Mixing reality with mirrors to offer passers-by a new perspective of the city and create a mental ‘jump’ to another dimension. © Inga Lagūnaitė, BA Architecture year 1
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Books, squeezed and twisted in water and pva-glue, and dried, which creates sculptures of our twisted self in the period after reading a book. © Inga Lagūnaitė, BA Architecture year 1
MultiSensing Space in NoiseCancelling Thomas Mical
Recently based in Auckland, Thomas Mical discusses the idea of multi-senses, both in the sensual and the sensical through noise. More specifically, through the reduction of noise in architectural experience.
T
he dualism of sense and non-sense already is complicated by the dual nature of sense itself, where sense stands for both the sensual and the sensical. The limited range of architectural phenomena that extend into the senses, as in the haptic-optic spectrum, are imprinted and registered into the sensorium of the individual. The sensations of a space lies in its pulses, ambience, tones.
“A thing, until it is everything, is noise, and once it is everything it is silence�, Antonio Porchia In parallel, the nearly undetectable signals from spaces can also infiltrate our logical assumptions and cultural codes, with both forming the parameters of emergent possible architectural spaces for the designer. Though this speculative territory can be a vast zone, in practice the aesthetic determination of the senses of a specific space involve very delicate forms of attribute selection and technological determinism. Operating outside both meanings of sense, then sensual and the sensical, are their non-sensical shadows (doubles). This first meaning of the sense of space, the sensuality of spatial experience, is doubled by an alternative to the immediacy of our perceptual scanning of spaces - this other
would be some curious echoes or after-effects, else preencounter premonitions or clairvoyance. This alternative to the sensuality of space, a blank spatial non-sense, would be zero condition of the unavailability of sensations, but also where other phenomena could abhor the vacuum and seep into our liminal perception. Like the umbra around an eclipse, these stray signals and pulses can circuitously register into our perceptual wetware; produced but also producing this alternative sense of space. The second mode of space, the sensical, also harbors a covert alternative, one here outside of clear logic, marked by the receding of logical sense. Becoming lost in a complex will shift spatial certainty into the slippery and mutable spaces of dislocation and misrecognition, where the signals and processes of these spaces cannot confirm identity and location. More theoretically, the loss of logic of space is the recognition of the absence of logical sense structuring metrical space, the space of organization. From metrical space - where it is “naturalized” that space is operational: programmed, analyzed, commodified – the
“The loss of logic of space is the recognition of the absence of logical sense structuring metrical space, the space of organization.”
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Let us sketch the challenge of the production of space today. First there is the input mechanisms of the designers, codifying metrical spaces from project directives but always taken through the dissonance of their internal tensions of sense and non-sense. Some of these inflections and interpretations are outside our control, but many are closer to selection and choice. Secondly the range of unknown future users will inflect and imprint these articulated metrical spaces as found raw spaces tolerant of differences, divergences, productive miscodings, and aberrant performance. These liminal and visceral variations exceeding the performance specifications of the metrical imperative are but types of in situ noise gaining from but obscuring the functionalist signal, an emergence of a noise that charges the spaces of the everyday with alternatives to logical sense. The noise-space relation is thus inserted into the sense of architecture through use and attention.
“The post-war modern progression into differentiated species of minimalist spaces expanded the field of design practices around non-textual practices and knowledge.� Let us turn briefly to the lo-fi reductivist aesthetics of
minimalist architecture in the mid 20thC, mid-century modern, as in the provocative cases of industrial designer Deiter Rams (b. 1932), architect Arne Jacobsen (1902-1971), and architect Marcel Breuer (1902-1981). These multidisciplinary spatial designers share many similarities in their primary sensitivity to mass and form and their secondary tactical use of elements within regular spatial-pattern fields, their polemical objects that anticipate further minimalist spatial accommodation, and the effect of the ultra-modern lifestyle their works amplify. The post-war modern progression into differentiated species of minimalist spaces expanded the field of design practices around non-textual practices and knowledge; a construct best defined as retro-minimalist design intelligences. From the original practices of the “culture of negation� of the high modernist period there is a convoluted transference to the conceptual claims of the hifi minimalist movement in late modern conceptual art, and its popular cultural absorption (from object-hood to kitsch). The specific noise-cancelling technologies available today, from headphones to acoustic panels, mark the translation from the cybernetic concept into the mathematical models into the everyday. Along this series and progression into today’s designed apparatuses, there is a need to take a curious detour through the aesthetic field of electronic music, an insightful detour that should be acknowledged as unconventional. The refinement of minimalist tendencies in modern art, architecture, and music is increasingly a high-fidelity amplification of the pre-war, back when the signals were weaker and the fidelity was lower due to then-emergent models, processes,
“From performance to recording to synthetic production, the electronic music trajectory (as sonicspatial) holds uncanny parallels with the development of midcentury modern design (as visual-spatial).” and audiences. From performance to recording to synthetic production, the electronic music trajectory (as sonic-spatial) holds uncanny parallels with the development of mid-century modern design (as visual-spatial). It is with the clearing point of the sparse acoustic minimalism characterized as ambient music (from Brian Eno onwards) in the 1970s that the neo-avant-garde and electronic counter-culture are both normalized and sustained as a new open process. In tracking the claims for an Ambient Century in this text by Mark Prendergast , we can note the diverse and complex claims of minimalism, as a spatial and acoustic agenda can be re-examined in light of this “noisy” contestation. Noise is neither sense or non-sense, but is here proposed as the condition of indiscernibility of qualities, attributes, pulsations, flows that do not yet clearly organize or fixate along the sense / non-sense philosophical teeter-totter. On the role of noise in homo-spatial situations, Netchvatal notes that itself it cannot be a singular block or entity, but also harbors processes within - from one to many noises we have a “noise aggregate as a summational but all-
over net-condition/awareness of plurality in hyper-homogeneity, a supplementary order of diversity within orders of noise” that are “capable of creating new forms of order,” which occur internally, and which he defines as hyper-cognitive noise. In proposing a common equivalence of the forms of sensory disappearance staged by minimalism, and the rise of other senses to respond (resound) to minimalism, the sense of space is exposed as a complex and also as a process. To answer the uncommon question of what echoes of sense or non-sense lurks in minimalist space, to get to the emptiness that precedes the emergence of noisy phenomena in experiential spaces, we can take the unruly pulsations and signals of found spaces as an opportunity to understand the noise as generative – to consider how architects can “bring the noise” or create architectural spatial complexes and processes which can mute and dampen the wider range of noisy phenomena, insert these as minimizing tactics into raw spaces, and set up the conditions for new forms of (ultra-)minimalism to emerge. This is the end-game of the alternative soft approach to noise-cancelling architectural theory, which seeks to extract the hidden and covert signals and traces in the larger registration of noise (as unknown). In the same way we learn to see from blurs to figures, so to we can learn to sense (sensation and logic) through the reduction of noise, using a wide range of cognitive, conceptual, and tactical design intelligence.
Sensing romania Radu Moisescu
Final year student Radu Moisescu from Ion Mincu University in Bucharest, looks at the country’s architectural ecosystem through his lens and the lens of other in order to identify one of the most diverse multi-sensorial experiences that Romania has to offer.
Sighisoara city gate entrance Š Patrycja Mrowczynska
T
he following pictures represent a photographic travel diary that speaks about how a group of young, IAESTE architecture interns, travelling for the first time in Romania, managed to discover and create a connection with the cities that they encountered throughout their journey. Following this summer experience, the process of designing became more enriching as a result of engaging all the senses. This ultimately led to a more meaningful sense of how surroundings are perceived whilst moving through space and time. The experience of architecture is inseparable of the body’s movement in different spatial events, as it is the basic tool for constructing, dimensioning and sensing place. Combining sight with other senses, Transylvanian villages appeared to fulfill a variety of criteria that gave travelers a meaningful experience. The built environment intertwined with the landscape in a city designed to the human scale, giving it both unity and identity.
“As we open a door, body weight meets the weight of the door, legs measure the step as we ascend a stair, a hand strokes the handrail and the entire body moves diagonally and dramatically through space.�
Passing the wooden city gates and walking along the city’s brick fortifications, you get to hear the clang of the town hall bells while you’re making your way through the narrow, dimly lit streets to find yourself in the city center. Step by step, the city reveals itself, engaging the individual’s multiple levels of consciousness, activating all senses. Weight, texture, shape and temperature aid the process of visualisation. These numerous tactile memories, full of the surrounding environment, add to the visual and form a complex layer of senses, giving specific purpose to an object. Spatial features come together into a symphony for occupants to experience. By bringing space to life, all senses are engaged. Intense colors, smells and sounds are just as important to a setting as the lack of one sense is to creating a distinctive setting. By toning down one sense, the image re-establishes harmony by replacing it with other forms of perception. During night-time, a different image of the city is perceived. Light may be controlled to show certain parts of the city, highlighting some senses while hiding others. Final thoughts: Architecture and human senses are interdependent. Sight, sound, smell and touch are the instruments by which we recognize the surrounding environment and determine direction and location. Altogether they form a unique experience, a path that never repeats itself in time and space.
Sighisoara city gate entrance © Patrycja Mrowczynska
“Intense colors, smells and sounds are just as important to a setting as the lack of one sense is to creating a distinctive setting.� By being aware of the needs which must be stimulated, designing becomes a much more human oriented process, giving us a better idea of how we may find the best approach between the economic and ergonomic.
Sighisoara city gate entrance Š Patrycja Mrowczynska
Bird’s eye view of Sighisoara from the clock tower © Patrycja Mrowczynska
Decorated Transylvanian window Š Ananta Dutta
Rope Street in Brasov © Patrycja Mrowczynska
Vidraru Dam © Patrycja Mrowczynska
Casino Constanta Š Jessica Givins
Transylvanian Ceramics Š Jessica Givins
Experiencing senses step by step in Sighisoara Š Jessica Givins
Exhibition Review – Constant. New Babylon AT the Reina Sofia, Madrid DANIEL BIANCHI
Constant. New Babylon (Reina Sofia, Madrid) © Daniel Bianchi, MArchD DS1
I
t was with very high expectations that I was looking forward to visiting the Reina Sofia, one of Spain’s most renowned art galleries. The reason for my excitement was the chance of seeing the Picasso masterpiece - Guernica; the great and brutal modern historical piece, all 3.5m x 7.8m of it. However upon arrival, as my eye scanned for the cubist section on the gallery map, a few others in the unit informed me that we must go and see Constant’s exhibition before moving on to the Picassos. The Guernica would have to wait.
“The exhibition mainly hosts the Dutch painter’s work from 1947 to 1974 and the collection is vast.” My only knowledge of Constant thus far was the hastily picked up Spanish exhibition brochure entitled - Nueva Babylonia - which my C in Spanish at A-level told me translated to New Babylon. Constant was someone whose work (much to my shame) I had no knowledge of at all prior to visiting this exhibition. I entered in a rather nonchalant mood, but it soon wore off. The exhibition was arranged in a fairly standard manner. A route meandered through a series of varying sized white rooms, with models in the centre and paintings on the walls around the edge, but it was the breadth and diversity of works which offered the excitement. The exceptions to the normal layout were a labyrinth
and a darkened room with a few carefully lit models and a projected film. The exhibition started with an exquisitely playful labyrinth (Fig 1.). Each door was a wall and each wall was a door. The simply concealed detailing left no clues as to ones location, and the movable walls allowed for an endless rearrangement of spaces. I positively wanted to be lost in it. The darkened room on the other hand was rather disappointing. The space was completely dark save for a film and a few coloured LEDs shining down on a handful of models. This toned down the vibrancy and colour of Constant’s work. The precise and controlled environment encouraged viewers to stand in silence which was in opposition to the other parts of the exhibition which were enlivened by chatter and interaction. However this was a momentary blip in the otherwise sensuous display. With no previous knowledge on which to build, I was forced to experience everything at face value, filtering and filling in the gaps with my own imagination.
“The diversity and ever-changing representation relentlessly dizzied the senses. In a good way.” And there is plenty to fuel the imagination here. The exhibition mainly hosts the Dutch painter’s work from 1947 to 1974 and the collection is vast. Yet if the amount of works in the exhibition was overwhelming, the variety of media was even more so. Paintings,
Constant. New Babylon (Reina Sofia, Madrid) © Daniel Bianchi, MArchD DS1
collages, text, drawings, maps, watercolour, photographs, prints and composites of all of the above were all on display. The diversity and ever-changing representation relentlessly dizzied the senses. In a good way. It really was how a project should look after 18 years of working on it. It is really hard to find a weakness in Constant’s representational arsenal. Layer upon layer of theories and forms are explored in every possible medium. If it was lucky to have stumbled upon this exhibition unexpectedly, it was even more fortuitous to bump into Constant’s widow (and curator of the exhibition). She had been visiting the exhibition that day and was starting conversation with anyone who showed a concentrated interest in the works. An elderly woman with a confidence and energy that belied her old age, it became clear that she was enthralled by the sensuality and experience of Constant’s work, perhaps heightened by the fact that she knew him intimately. I couldn’t resist asking her what had been in my mind from the beginning of the exhibition; asking her which medium Constant had mastered first and which was his favourite. She replied, “he was a Michaelangelo, he could play violin, guitar, cimbalom, he could sing, he could write, he was a master in arts, in all arts.” And such is the artistic dexterity on display that I am inclined to believe her. I moved throughout the exhibition not unlike one of the inhabitants of Constant’ New Babylon. Exploring the rooms as a series of spaces, not knowing what situation would unfold through the next doorway, just letting myself simply explore, and more often than not becoming mesmerised by whatever
works happened to be in that particular room; with each room unleashing a new facet of Nieuwenhuy’s skillset. The works have enough fantasy elements to be other-worldly but have enough discernible structure to remind us of our own. In the models there are clear floor plans and columns and in the paintings the buildings are surrounded by recognisable landscapes. Pristine and rigid man-made constructions have not made it over to Constant’s new world. Man’s chance thoughts, wishes and momentary desires take over.
“It is equally effective to focus in on perforations in a tiny model or stand back and take in the huge metre-wide paintings.” Despite the variety on show it never feels disjointed, certain similarities bind all the works together. They are carefully crafted, yet at the same time free; irregular yet somehow perfectly composed; messy but meticulously arranged. The senses are left to wander through various scales. It is equally effective to focus in on perforations in a tiny model or stand back and take in the huge metre-wide paintings. One of the works, Vista de los sectores de Nueva Babilonia (1971) (Fig 2.) at first seemed to me like a photo which had been painted over, but upon closer inspection it was apparent that there were pencil lines, pen marks, brush strokes and a whole plethora of techniques. Even the background photo itself was a collage of his models. This continual uncovering of layers is unrelenting throughout every work in the exhibition.
Constant. New Babylon (Reina Sofia, Madrid) © Daniel Bianchi, MArchD DS1
The depth of exploration is exemplary. The diversity of scales and development of thoughts are so complex and detailed that it somehow gives this imaginary world real substance. And that is what Constant has designed with New Babylon. It is a redesigning of the world as much as it is a redesigning of architecture. It was only after having returned to England and read up on Constant that I realised how fittingly the seemingly sporadic works had been selected. It was not just in order to satisfactorily show off a variety of Constant’s oeuvre; it was supposed to be a bombardment on the senses. That is what New Babylon is. The exhibition works on both a purely sensory and highly theoretical level, catering for both the academic and the student yet to learn. After a couple of hours, lengthy and excited discussion arose between us archigeeks about how the work could relate to each of our projects; questioning how it was possible to be the master of so many media; discussing our favourite pieces – when we realised – we should probably go and see the Guernica as well.
Constant. New Babylon At the Reina Sofia, Madrid Exhibition: http://www.museoreinasofia.es/en/exhibitions/constant-newbabylon Constant Foundation: http://www.stichtingconstant.nl/
Constant. New Babylon (Reina Sofia, Madrid) © Daniel Bianchi, MArchD DS1
Fig.1 - (1974) Laberinto de puertas en la exposición New Babylon. Photographs © Daniel Bianchi, MArchD DS1
Fig.2 - Nieuwenhuy, C (1971) Gezicht op New Babylonische sectoren. Watercolor and pencil on photomontage. 135 x 223 cm. Collection Gemeentemuseum Den Haag. Š Daniel Bianchi, MArchD DS1
THROUGH CAMDEN EYES konstanca ivanova
BA Architecture undergraduate Konstanca Ivanova discusses her opinion on architectural senses through her personal experience of the multy-sensory and the vibrancy of Camden Market in London
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Have you heard of Camden Market? Or maybe Camden Lock, commonly known as Camden Town? It is this really cool and lively part of London, with a universal appeal and a particular magnet for creative souls, where, in my modest opinion, all senses gather to create the feeling of appreciation towards architecture. Of course, I have to note before starting to talk about it, that for me, architecture is a really broad term. It does not involve only buildings, but also monuments, memorials, and even jewellery . For me, the whole of the Camden Market is architecture - from the food stalls, horses placed around or shops to the whole idea of the market itself. It is not only the visual appeal, if you find any, but the whole experience that Camden gives you. It feeds your senses one by one... Imagine taking a walk through this creative, colorful market, stopping at shops displaying a panoply of scarves - touching the silk, feeling it run through your fingers, letting it linger. Feel this wave of simultaneous calm and dynamic, created by the actual popularity and density of the place and the beauty of the things being sold around you. You may smell something that you know, something you may have had in your childhood or something new - try it for the first time. Stroll through the market, surrounded by the touch of different materials or smells of different spices - you are starting to feel like you are in the middle of Morocco or India. You pass by the ‘cereal killer’ and grab a bowl of cereals with a bottle of milk to get energized. You chat with the street artists. You get inspired. The buildings in Camden are not exceptionally beautiful in architectural terms - indeed, many shop fronts are garishly
adorned with unsubtle iconography. It is not the ‘separate’ parts that give it such a simple, yet great sense of beauty and creative power. It is through all of what Camden brings together as a place that give it an overall feeling of good architecture: stimulating all the senses, filling the body, leaving you breathless, struggling during the tube ride home.
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The work he produces is characterised by simplicity, austere and rich at the same time, with a modern interpretation of taste. One of the examples being the art Museum in Bregenz which celebrates space in a way that provokes both the artist and the visitor to create/explore with more than just sight. Utilising light as a defining element of the rooms and celebrating the structure in a slight Rogerian way, he highlights the strength of his belief in the experiential. Comparing him with Eisenman, which is also one whom identifies the senses as a significant part of the architectural experience, it is easy to see the difference between these two influential characters of the modern architectural world which are defined by a theory for their design. Where Eisenman forces his ideas to reach a sensorial experience, Zumthor starts with the solid and heavy aspects of architecture in order to deliver the experience that will excite the senses. He constantly mentions that architecture is of the real world: ‘Sometimes I can almost feel a particular door handle in my hand, a piece of metal shaped like the back of a spoon. That door handle still seems to me like a special sign of entry into a world of different moods and smells. I remember the sound of the gravel under my feet, the soft gleam of the waxed oak staircase, I can hear the heavy front door closing behind me. . . . Memories like these contain the deepest architectural experience that I know. They are the reservoirs of the architectural atmospheres and images that I explore in my work as an architect.’
Red brick museum, Beijing, China © Adrian Alexandrescu, MArchD DS6
Hassan II Mosque, Casablanca, Morocco © Adrian Alexandrescu, MArchD DS6
In Atmosphere, Zumthor approaches the same topic of senses by looking at the concept of atmosphere which defines space. The Swiss architect’s lecture from 2003, as presented in the book, conveys his multi-sensorial inspirations in a very personal tone, that allows the reader to connect and expose himself to the experience. Zumthor’s observations illustrate his process that leads into the creation of architecture. It emphasises not simply a visual connection, but more of a full body interaction by describing materials, space height, lighting and somehow even smells. The technique of the architect described in the book Atmosphere (2006) is similar to a storyline. The terms used and the tone is not technical or philosophical, instead, it represent his personal ambition towards senses and succeed in sharing that feeling through words.
“Different aspects of design and experience were observed, examined and utilised in order to reach a better understanding of the multi-sensorial experience that architecture can offer.”
Palmyra, Syria © Adrian Alexandrescu, MArchD DS6
Hassan II Mosque, Casablanca, Morocco © Adrian Alexandrescu, MArchD DS6
The Eyes of the Skin (1996) by Pallasmaa which focuses mostly on visual sense, approaches the topic of multi-sensorial architecture by criticising the dominance of sight in a field that has so much more to offer. With reference to others sources such as the novelist Tanizaki which, as Zumthor, looks at the power of light in the process of creation, Pallasmaa tries, I believe, wants to escape from the cage of vision. With touch as the second sense being analysed in the book, there is a clear desire to highlight that strong eye, hand and mind coordination is the key to influential buildings. This reminds me of the years as an undergrad, which are not that far behind me even though I made it sound like it happened in the 90’s, when most of the lecturers were encouraging us to think with the pen and paper not jump to design within AutoCAD or Rhino which limits the creativity to the flexibility of the software and your knowledge of it.
“It was the wish to replace the banal with the extraordinary; to make the user think instead of being passive.” Last year, the module that all the architecture students attended, Research Philosophy for Design, captured some of the ideas portrayed in the text mentioned above. Through the study undertaken as part of the module, different aspects of design
and experience were observed, examined and utilised in order to reach a better understanding of the multi-sensorial experience that architecture can offer. In a way, the quote from Ludwig Wittgenstein ‘I am my world’ describes that specific ability of some structures or spaces which want to be more, they want to be everything to please the entire you. It is true that Zumthor and others had years to truly understand how to design for the senses and create architecture which is more than a pretty pictures in their portfolio. However in the beginning, when they started it all, they had a drive to deliver an experience not a structure. It was the wish to replace the banal with the extraordinary; to make the user think instead of being passive. Maybe it is time for us to give visuals a run for their money and expand the market so that the multi-sensual design would not be a thing done by the few but by the many.
“I carefully observe the concrete appearance of the world, and in my buildings I try to enhance what seems to be valuable, to correct what is disturbing, and to create anew what we feel is missing”, Peter Zumthor
Palmyra, Syria © Adrian Alexandrescu, MArchD DS6
Hassan II Mosque, Casablanca, Morocco © Adrian Alexandrescu, MArchD DS6
Palmyra, Syria © Adrian Alexandrescu, MArchD DS6
Great Wall of China © Adrian Alexandrescu, MArchD DS6
Dead Mum Dedication harriet harris
Dr Harriet Harriss (former MArchD lead) is currently researching the latent pedagogy of the architectural fanzine, in collaboration with Rob Dutton - founding member of OSA. Her biographical illustration, ‘Dead Mum Dedication’ first featured in Manchester School of Architecture’s ‘Archigrrle’ Magazine (Spring 1999 edition) and reflects upon a sense of loss or absence, as well as a sense of place or presence.
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