OSA Magazine Volume 3 Issue 6 | December 2016 sample by OSA Magazine

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exploration migration

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kInDlY sPoNsOrEd bY ROBIN PARTINGTON & PARTNERS www.rpplondon.com

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cOnTeNtS

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Migratory Architecture as Emergency Preparedness and Resilience

Is Place-making just a Slogan?

What is Home?

Addressing Displacement

Delicate Economies and Crumbling Infrastructures

The Threshold to Maturity

Architectural Explorations

Recovering Homes after Disaster

Escape from the Daily Grind: Zambia Edition

BEYOND

ABROAD

Things that used to be

UNKNOWN

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Follow the River: Tonle Sap, Cambodia

Once a Colonial Hotel, now an Inhabited Ruin

Dreams and Reality: Metro Manila

Capturing the City

One Way Ticket

Space Travel is unlocking Utopia

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I canâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t live is living is without EU

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Noisy People Win: Marcus Fairs and the Challenge of Brexit

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Departing to Architecture from Stage Design

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Remembering an Icon

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EDITORS Sonia Tong James Barrell GRAPHICS EDITORS Engeland Apostal Carine Chin Roxanne Cowley PRINTING

OSA TEAM

GREENPRINT Room 1/OARC East Oxford Community Centre Princes Street OX4 1DD

Shawn Ang Ayanna Blair Ford Susan Kryżanowska Daria Ciobanu-Enescu Ivona Georgieva Stephany Govier Carl Harris Charlotte Hart Rosie Helps Amy Johnson Maria Mavrikou James Redman Kate Ridgeway Jing Zhi Tan Maira Tzanidaki Adam West

You’re more than welcome to share, modify and distribute this publication in any form, but we think it’s good manners to get in touch with the original authors ﬁrst if you’d like to republish any of their content. All images are the authors own unless otherwise noted.

GUEST DESIGNERS

CONTACT

Fernando Salcedo Germaine Tan Wan Zheng

t: @OSA_Mag i: @osabrookes w: www.osamag.co.uk e:osazine@gmail.com

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eDiToRiAl t

he brief for OSA Issue 6: Departure called for our writers to examine the world in ďŹ&#x201A;ux - progression, expansion and the movement of people and resources in the context of urbanisation, globalisation and technological upheaval. As we write this editorial, the world is reeling from unexpected referendum and election results that have shaken the western world . A creeping suspicion of refugees and immigrants, fueled by populist culture threatens to close borders, such that the right to travel and migrate could become an earned privilege. These are uncertain times indeed. This issue covers a broad range of topics on the theme of departure that a number of students, professionals and academics have kindly contributed, spanning personal accounts of working and living abroad whilst engaging with the architectural profession, questioning the meaning of home from the point of view of the refugee, migrant and disaster hit communities, to speculating on the prospects of UK architecture in a postBrexit economy. This selection of articles are intended to act as an introduction to what the notion of departure can encompass in our world today.

from which any original team members have now departed. This presents us with new challenges and opportunities: how to build on a legacy that itself was still experimenting, still growing, or whether to open a new chapter in terms of its character and feel? Weâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;d like to thank our new team for adding their enthusiasm, energy and ideas into the OSA mix and hope that the two issues of 2016 - 2017 will be as successful and uniquely crafted as their predecessors. In this sense, producing issue 6 has been a experience of departure from our own comfort zones towards embracing an exciting, new opportunity for creativity. We hope that you will enjoy this issue of OSA and that it will take you to places that are known, unknown, abroad and beyond.

- The Editors

This year marked an important year for OSA. We are the third generation of editors to take on the mantle and by the laws of degree lengths, the ďŹ rst new generation 9

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“cOnSuLt tHe gEnIuS oF tHe pLaCe iN aLl; tHaT tElLs tHe wAtErS oR tO rIsE, oR fAlL, … nOw bReAkS oR nOw dIrEcTs, tH’iNtEnDiNg lInEs; pAiNtS aS yOu pLaNt, aNd, aS yOu wOrK, dEsIgNs.” – Alexander Pope, “Moral Essays” (Epistle IV, 57-64)

tHiNgS tHaT uSeD tO bE PhD S t u d e n t M a rgo Socha writes about f e e l i n g s o f nostalgia as a reaction to depa r t u r e

eparture, understood as a substantial change from established values or circumstances, often leads to feelings of nostalgia. Nostalgia for home, nostalgia for a time long gone or a place that might have ever only existed in our heads. Historically speaking, this has often been the case, regardless of whether the notion of departure concerned a physical displacement of people, a social change or broader political and economic transformations. Nostalgic feelings towards the countryside, characteristic for English society, left a particular impression on architecture and contributed to a very unique physical and social condition on English landed estates, 14

including a romanticized landscape, sporting associations, traditional ceremonial festivities and a distinctively paternalistic role of the landowner. The XVIII and XIX centuries saw some drastic changes caused by the Industrial Revolution which had a profound impact on the English landed estate, including population shifts from rural to urban areas, a redistribution of wealth and its resulting social transformations. The position of landowners was threatened by industrial capitalists emerging as a new landed class, as well as by the rising status of tenant farmers whose increasing wealth allowed them to pursue the same lifestyle

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and level of education as the gentry. As a result, many landowners looked back to the past with a great deal of nostalgia and developed extremely sentimental perceptions of their estates and their role as landowners. The feelings of nostalgia concentrated around an idealistic vision of the XVII and XVIII centuries when agriculture and countryside, rather than industry and towns, formed the foundations of a wealthy and prosperous society. It was the time when the English sentimental attitudes to land and rural life were developing in parallel with the picturesque aesthetics than soon started to dominate the estate landscape and town planning theory. A romantic and symbolic character of the picturesque style was based upon classical painting, poetry and writings of the time and represented the qualities that the landowners desperately longed for – natural beauty and rustic aesthetics. A house in Notting Hill, London with a mo dern retro Nissan Fig aro parke d up front

tHe wAr-tImE eXpErIeNcEs oF tHe xX cEnTuRy aNd tHe gEnErAl uNrEsT oF tHe pOsT-wAr pErIoD aLsO rEsUlTeD iN a wIdEsPrEaD nOsTaLgIa fOr tRaDiTiOnAl eNgLiSh vAlUeS aNd tHe lAnD iTsElF,

Poundbur y deve lopment, Dorset

The landowners’ nostalgic longings resulted in a romantic, utopian vision of a landed estate that sometimes had devastating consequences. With the focus shifting away from economic prosperity and fiscal viability to landowners’ paternalistic duties and philanthropic activities (such as almsgiving, building cottages and churches or organizing celebrations and festivals), estates were rendered unprofitable in the long run. Moreover, many landowners were turned away from trade and profitable industrial businesses and limited their activities to farming as a ‘more respectable’ form of income, which forced a number of landowners to sell out their properties during the agricultural depression in the late XIX century.1 The war-time experiences of the XX century and the general unrest of the post-war period also resulted in a 15

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mIgRaToRy aRcHiTeCtUrE aS eMeRgEnCy pRePaReDnEsS aNd rEsIlIeNcE rE-lEaRnInG fRoM cArAvAnSaRy bUiLdInG tYpEs

CENDEP MA Graduate Aparna Maladkar explores how we can learn from vernacular caravansary building types to respond to the crises of the 21st century

ith the increase in numbers and types of migrants and refugees, and with average 17 years spent in camp like conditions, it is evident that architects need to be an integral part of the humanitarian ﬁeld. Many of the emergency responses are architectural with the need to provide housing and infrastructure for large number of people in a short time. While there is some integration between humanitarian, architecture, and construction sectors, this clearly at present is not enough.

pRePaReDnEsS aNd rEsIlIeNcE For effective and holistic integration, the architecture community needs to consider preparedness and resilience on an entirely different scale and level. Emergency Preparedness is a key 18

word in the humanitarian field; United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA) defines it as ‘the knowledge and capacity developed by governments, recovery organisations, communities and individuals to anticipate, respond to and recover from the impact of potential, imminent or current hazard events, or emergency situations that call for a humanitarian response.’ Hyogo Framework for Action (HFA) suggests that preparedness and resilience is key to saving lives and livelihoods, while at the same time aiming to reduce negative impacts of urbanisation, food insecurity and climate change. Economic migration due to urbanisation (rural, internal or external), forced migration due to conflicts or disasters, and the recently recognised environmental or climate change migration are

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simultaneously considered to be politically sensitive, socially and culturally diverse, economically challenging, and enormously demanding for future resilience and sustainability. More importantly global migration is a rapidly emerging urgent urban phenomenon, which needs to be envisaged on a large scale. Given that migration and refugee crisis is a recurring factor, it is imperative that the architecture community is deeply involved and adequately prepared. This preparation is possible through ‘Migratory Architecture’, which targets and prepares for moving societies; this type of architecture, a physical manifestation of a ‘plural community’, could act as a binder for bridging gaps between communities.

offering nomadic travellers all possible comforts and shelter while away from their homes. Hans were initially designed as simple dormitories and overtime developed into complex establishments called ‘ribat’ (inns) with facilities to provide food, shelter, and drinks for people, animals and cargo along with services such as maintenance, treatment and care. These structures sprouted along trade routes at calculated intervals by estimating travel times. Its architecture and function were solely dependent on available local materials, climatic conditions and security aspects. Every caravanserai had basic minimum services including baths, faith based components, fountains, inﬁrmaries, cookshops (cafés), storage areas and shops. Professionals

gIvEn tHaT mIgRaTiOn aNd rEfUgEe cRiSiS iS a rEcUrRiNg fAcToR, iT iS iMpErAtIvE tHaT tHe aRcHiTeCtUrE cOmMuNiTy iS dEePlY iNvOlVeD aNd

aDeQuAtElY pRePaReD. Examples of migratory architecture have been abundant throughout history, though the terminology may not be distinctly deﬁned. People have migrated since antiquity, and their resulting migration routes and activities have inﬂuenced architecture over time. Noah’s ark, architecture of the trade routes such as Silk Route (e.g. caravansaries, khans, hans), colonial cities, and remittance houses of Mexico are just some examples.

such as blacksmiths, moneychangers, tailors, cobblers, physicians, and veterinaries had to be represented within each structure. Moreover hans were built around courtyards incorporating public and open space planning.

Many thousands of hans were known to have been built, and this traditional concept of migratory architecture shows that regionally migration was considered to be ordinary, recurring and acceptable phenomenon, which ultimately

sOcIaL, eCoNoMiC aNd cUlTuRaL aCcEpTaNcE tHrOuGh ‘cArAvAnSaRiEs’ brought social, cultural and economic Hans or caravanserai building types evolved out of social needs in Central Asia

enhancement to the locality as well as the migrants. It shows that the locals along the trade routes were ‘prepared’ for the 19

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Entrance to Hanul’ lui Manuc or Manuc’s Inn, Bucharest: Built in 1808 as a ‘khan’ by Armenian diplomat, Manucbei. The oldest inn, now a national heritage, was an important commercial complex with 15 wholesalers, 23 retail stores, 107 rooms for ofﬁces or living, two receiving rooms and a pub.

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approaching large number of travellers or migrants passing through on a daily basis. The structures were designed and built prior to and during migration events, in order to future proof and safeguard local communities, migrants and resources from added inﬂux of new people. The migrants were ensured secure and digniﬁed shelters, and above all, a welcoming gesture from society.

aRcHiTeCtUrE iN tHe hUmAnItArIaN sEcToR In face of migration crises and a rise in terrorist activities, some countries have engage in hostile and alienating architecture, such as inhospitable detention centres, registration camps, border walls and fences. While these structures may be necessary to some extent, this rising trend of hostile structures needs to be reversed with hospitable and inclusive architectural examples. Migratory architecture can embody and promote the concept of plural identity and common heritage. It can be socially, culturally and economically welcoming; integrating, accepting and inclusive that evolves around the needs of static and transitional societies simultaneously. The absence of architecture community in humanitarian world is often pondered upon; in a recent article by architect Richard Gatti, he wonders why architects are not talking about migration crisis, and considers ‘architectural press to be largely silent’ on this topic. Innovative shelter solutions are developing, however these are considered to be few and far to make a large-scale impact. Last year, The United Nations issued a request for a design proposal to build semi-

tHiS tRaDiTiOnAl cOnCePt oF mIgRaToRy aRcHiTeCtUrE sHoWs tHaT rEgIoNaLlY mIgRaTiOn wAs cOnSiDeReD tO bE oRdInArY, rEcUrRiNg aNd aCcEpTaBlE pHeNoMeNoN permanent refugee settlements from adobe in less than a month. The adobe houses would be ‘ﬁrst homes’ before the refugees are relocated to a more permanent location. The next wave of refugees will then take over the adobe dwellings thereby ensuring sustainable and continued use. In a recent debate, it was highlighted that the architects, who are involved in emergency architecture, often focus solely on the product ‘the shelter’, rather than looking at the problem holistically. They are further restricted by neophilia (novelty of the ‘new’), impractical innovation and design complexities, and need for publicity.

cHaLlEnGeS fOr tHe aRcHiTeCtUrE cOmMuNiTy It is possible that all these issues arise due to the limited and narrow design framework made available to them. Architects, governments and humanitarian actors together need to perceive architectural interventions through targeted lens of holistic concepts surrounding migration and refugees including political, cultural, urban and environmental challenges. The time scale itself is challenging; whole new communities now need to be built within a very short time frame. Though recent technology may allow speeding up the construction process, it is probably 21

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sensible to be prepared beforehand for future large-scale migrations. With today’s scientiﬁc data and inventions, migratory routes can be mapped and predicted beforehand, which would enable us to prepare and future proof critical routes and cities with migratory architecture. There is an urgent need to shelter people humanely, with comfort and with dignity. Home is more than a place to rest; it is the extension of the human self, their identity. Uprooted from their original surroundings, this ‘home shield’ is no longer available for migrants and refugees. With limited resources, the only option left is to make do and build a home from the shelter provisions made available to them. In such dire situations, when physical and psychological circumstances are critical, it is essential that the shelters are already built and in a good enough condition to be considered as future ‘homes’. The provisions could be basic but these structures need to be permanent, habitable, and to certain extent agreeable and aesthetically pleasing to the occupant. The migratory structures can be readapted, rebuilt, and reintegrated innovatively into the community once the crisis has passed.

wHaT’s oN tHe hOrIzOn? The materialisation of migratory architecture is an extremely complex and uphill task, and certainly not in the hands of the architects alone. The stringent border control regulations, security, cultural and social concerns, planning and management issues make it evident that it should be debated with various parties at different levels. Recent endeavours like the United Kingdom Built 22

Environment Advisory Group (UKBEAG) consortium launched at the 2016 Habitat III conference could bring together collective skills and expertise of built environment professionals to support a range of humanitarian and development partners to prepare for and respond to humanitarian crises. However, more importantly, it is imperative that the debate should commence immediately with a wider audience without delay. It is also essential that future architecture students embed this concept of migratory architecture in their studies and experiences. Architectural preparedness and resilience needs to be mainstreamed in the humanitarian sector to increase a common understanding of migration, and enable the exchange of ideas between local and transient communities.

I t i s a lso e s se n t i a l t h a t f ut ur e a rc h i t e ct ur e st u dent s e m b e d t hi s c o n c ept o f m i g rat o r y a rc h i t e ct ur e i n the i r st u d i e s a nd e x pe ri e nce s. 1. Gatti, R. (2015). Why aren’t architects talking about the migration crisis?. [online] Building Design. Available at: http://www.bdonline.co.uk/why-arent-architectstalking-about-the-migration-crisis?/5077498.article. 2. Hopkirk, E. (2015). Architect pitches refugee village plan to UN. [online] Building Design. Available at: http:// www.bdonline.co.uk/architect-pitches-refugeevillage-plan-to-un/5078452.article. 3.Scott-Smith, T. (2016). Emergency shelter: reﬂections on a new European infrastructure at the Refugee Studies Centre (RSC Public Seminar Series), Oxford University on 12 October 2016.

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iS pLaCe-mAkInG jUsT a sLoGaN? Katherine Birkett, Third year undergraduate architecture student, investigates the implications of placemaking on the public realm

t is apparent that the high concentration of architecture in the early 20th century effectively reduced the value and perception of place. The new idealistic buildings ignored the signiďŹ cance of outdoor life, which resulted in a nostalgia for remaining public spaces. In some cases, existing public spaces were gradually replaced with considerably less successful ones, which failed to engage and contribute to community life, and therefore could not function successfully as part of the built

environment. However, by the end of the 20th century, urban designers focused on creating lively public spaces in order to reiterate the fundamental need for functional outdoor space, consequently, the concept of place-making originated. To move towards a more uniďŹ ed understanding of place-making, the distinctions between the dimensions of space and place should be drawn. Spaces are geographical, whereas places are a combination of physical and emotional 23

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aDdReSsInG dIsPlAcEmEnT

Charlotte Hart, first year architecture undergraduate student asks whether architects should be taking more responsibility for the rehousing of the homeless

his piece will analyse the displacement of people from their homes both through forced conﬂict and natural disasters alongside our everyday global search for an answer to the shortage of social housing. One in four people worldwide are homeless, living in slums or substandard housing. Statistics from the United Nations for the number of people displaced from their homes have reached a new high: 65.3 million people were recorded to have lost the roofs over their heads during 2015, with more than half of this population being children under eighteen. These ﬁgures present architects and designers with the compelling need to develop new and appropriate housing strategies. I spoke with Sophie Flinder (Oxford 32

Brookes BA Arch 2016), who wrote her dissertation about the most recent refugee crisis in the Calais Jungle, and she helped me to understand more about the lives led behind the patchwork of shelters. ‘It was created by the refugees, for the refugees, and is therefore a great social study when it comes to what the migrants want and the desire to create a daily life after having all their basics needs met. By creating a dynamic structure of the whole camp different activities can take place in different constructions, where the refugees aren’t understood as one group but as thousands of individuals.’ I asked what our role as young architects was in such a situation - ‘It should be our job as designers and urban thinkers to challenge the way governments organise camps to improve daily life. Creative

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initiatives play a crucial role in breaking up the monotony of these camps, creating a space that fulﬁlls more than a primary function of bare minimum. In my opinion, entrepreneurship, ideas, and experiments can only bring good to a camp; the worst thing that can happen is that no-one engages with the structure or activity.’

rEfUgEeS aReN’t uNdErStOoD aS oNe gRoUp bUt aS tHoUsAnDs oF iNdIvIdUaLs Of the issues faced when signing up to this challenge, there is often uncertainty as to what is actually needed, supported by the question of money, the latter sadly being of primary concern to many professionals. Who is funding the project? Who will pay the architect? Designers could be drawn into such a project without the incentive of money by presenting them with the opportunity to produce something new and idealistic, challenging both their technical skills and creativity, but this can also undermine the stability of such a project, required by necessity in situations where there is so much loss and uncertainty. As observed by architect Nathaniel Corum - “Humanitarian design responses should be less experimental since we’re typically working in more challenging environments with community members who cannot afford failure.” This is also relevant to the issues of temporary and permanence. It is generally not possible to provide immediate, permanent solutions in unpredictable disaster situations but through adaptable and transformable architecture we should be able to efﬁciently provide a framework that enables long term structures to be put in place.

Temporary relates to the immediate. The basics for survival - shelter, medicine, sanitary conditions - form a safe environment. These initial phases are put in place by humanitarian groups and aid workers; this should not be confused with asking architects to design with tarpaulin - the tent does not need to be reinvented. In First World countries we have endless events and competitions that prescribe similar rules to develop temporary shelter for festivals, exhibits, pavilions and general cultural events. Methods are tested and reused and using this knowledge we can apply a variety of structures in emergency situations, allowing the funding and focus to be on the more essential longer term dilemmas.

When thinking about the long term, it should be emphasised that the ﬁgures for the population that were displaced last year, do not solely focus on the recent victims of the refugee crisis, but the global realisation of the need to provide social housing to forever growing populations. These two points, although presenting different issues, can be reﬂected in similar measures where the next stages of design needs to concentrate on creating 33

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affordable, adaptable spaces to give individuals a place for hope and security. Leaving the ﬁnancial and structural questions aside, we need to address these issues on a human level. How can we determine what is needed from the space? When working towards habitable creations we must consider the emotional stability as well as the physical requirements of the users. linder discussed the representation of the shelters and believes “it is all about replacing the perception of being in transit with the perception of being present in your own life. It is important that the shelter provides an expression of belonging and safety.” Although permanence and

can heal not just shelter people, and it can be a kind of information centre if needed. As as an architect, you can create a better place than just a refugee camp of a temporary shelter.” Having simplistic guidelines of the minimal requirements already sets a baseline for a future building plan. Asking Flinder if we could create a universal model for shelter, she acknowledged the varying factors that may come into play in different locations, such as the environment or social and ﬁnancial issues, but emphasised how we could implement initial rules having learnt from previous projects - “Experiencing emergency ﬁrst hand can often generate the same humanitarian issues. Looking

tHe ‘cOmMuNiTy’ tHaT tHe rEfUgEeS hAvE bUiLt oVeR tHe pReViOuS mOnThS wItH iTs dIvErSe cUlTuRe fUeLlEd bY pAsSiOnS aNd dOnAtIoNs wIlL bE cOmPlEtElY lOsT certainty may be completely unattainable in these situations, through good design it is possible to give a notion of security which is then already a platform for the people affected to move forward. It is as much about the urban masterplan as how the individual spaces will be inhabited. Humanitarian architect Patama Roonrakwit addressed this problem by engaging with the community and understanding what they wanted - since it is easy to forget that most of the people who have been displaced once lived in a normal housing situation, so should not be expected to accept substandard accommodation. Roonrakwit said, “I think in a difﬁcult time architecture 34

at a human scale, the emergency design should follow the same premise.” Shipping containers have previously presented themselves as fast and effective solutions for past projects. However, they have often failed to be utilized in the correct manner. This was highlighted in the Calais Jungle when the authorities introduced such containers with a ﬁnger scanning security system, to the criticism that such identiﬁcation could compromise their freedom. Humanitarian expert Kilian Kleinschmidt refers to these UN donated spaces as ‘storage facilities for people’, emphasizing the unempathetic way they have been thought through. Roonrakwit touched on

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the same issue when working in Thailand after the 2004 Tsunami: “after the state of shock, people needed to be in a very good place. So our idea was that it shouldn’t be like barracks.” Whilst these views are valid and understandable, the containers themselves offer a practical solution. Shipping containers are prefabricated, therefore ready for future events. Their

shape allows for modular construction as well as adaptable positioning and extension, and essentially they are easily to transport and handle. Already used in Pop Up scenarios in creative urban areas of Europe, their durability and spatial qualities have been tested and the diverse ways they are used only demonstrates how they can be given an identity within

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a community or to their individual owner. Developing from the single room or container to the bigger urban plan is then a different matter. We are in a similar position to when we developed post-war architecture - the opportunity and need to create large schemes of low budget social housing. But the problem, looking back, is that many of the major builds that emerged from the post-war era have been deemed a failure by society. Modular systems inspired by modernist architects such as the famed Le Corbusier were reinterpreted as units to be mass produced as cheaply and possible and stacked in brownfield sites wherever a city council could hide them, resulting in a segregation of a less affluent class of the population. This legacy is visible in many of the inner city areas in Europe today. In today’s housing crisis, we are yet again faced with the problem of mass housing that doesn’t dehumanise the individual. At the time of writing, the french authorities have just announced that they will be dismantling the Calais Jungle and sending groups of refugees across many different towns and cities in France. The ‘community’ that the refugees have built over the previous months, with its diverse culture and fueled by passions and donations, will be completely lost; instead of living in their self-created homes, they must make their homes in reception centres where they may be held for up to four months awaiting the outcome of their pledges for asylum. Whilst the French Government has specified this procedure as a transitional strategy, one wonders what the nature of future phases following this strategy to be. Perhaps this is an opportunity for housing solutions to be implemented led by architects - if now 36

is the temporary and traditional phase, then the time is ripe to investigate the design of good, longer term solutions. As designer and social advocate Eric Cesal notes ‘ good design is worth investing in’, therefore there is a strong case for state funds to be made available to architects to research the design and masterplanning that supports the mass housing of migrants and local population together.

Photographs taken by UG student Gina Dahl. In October Gina volunteered with Help Refugees in camps in Calais and Dunkirk. While volunteering in Calais and Dunkirk Gina worked in with the charities sorting donations and helping to clear mould from poorly constructed temporary houses. She is using her experiences as research for her dissertation.

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tHe ‘cOmMuNiTy’ tHaT tHe rEfUgEeS hAvE bUiLt oVeR tHe pReViOuS mOnThS wItH iTs dIvErSe cUlTuRe fUeLlEd bY pAsSiOnS aNd dOnAtIoNs wIlL bE cOmPlEtElY lOsT,

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tHe pOsTmOdErN rEuRbAnIzInG pOlIcY cOnCeNtRaTeS oN oLd cItY cEnTrEs aNd iNcReAsEs pOlArIzAtIoN oF tHe cItY eVeN mOrE. unemployment. Afterwards, in the 1990s, the now vacant urban spaces and former assembly grounds were parcelled off and privatized according to the western model. Due to the population exodus to the west, the majority of prefabricated tower blocks became vacant and many of them are waiting even now to be torn down. This resulted in a hollow city centre, surrounded by vast estates of dilapidated housing estates in the outer area. Financial pressures were exacerbated by the now oversized public infrastructure which had to be maintained for the remaining few. In order to compete globally with other cities, urban policies concentrated on the establishment of services, consumerist cultures and leisure and the city centre was reurbanised and sites of historical interest restored for tourists. From 1998 onwards, Leipzig adopted the a cluster approach towards attracting major global investments, aided by the creation of an international airport and expansion of its transport links. Low-skilled jobs were 40

created by the arrival of Quelle and DHL’s distribution centres, whereas tech and artists’ studios ﬂourished in the former industrial sites. The University of Leipzig had, undoubtedly, inspired its graduates to form an attachment to the city that went beyond economic reasons, leading to the establishment of a knowledge based industry. However, the postmodern reurbanising policy concentrates on old city centres and increases polarization of the city even more. Core areas of events and consumerism are developed for the globally oriented ‘new entrepreneur’ and service providers of the information economy (stereotypically seen as loftliving yuppies clustering in gated inner city communities). Globalisation brings an enthusiasm for technology, consumption of popular music and media, mass sporting activities – what do these mediadominated and temporary communities offer in the way of opportunities for

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individualisation within the shrinking urban cultures of both the East and West Germany? Thus far, in the shrinking posturbanist life, the reduction of everyday life to family/apartment, car/mobility and mall/culture are becoming more aligned. Despite attempts at a European reurbanisation of city centres, the urban cultures in shrinking cities are being suburbanized, reduced and hollowed out into suburban ways of life. Does this provide a more straightforward transition to the culture of post-Fordist ﬂexibility and individualisation of work and life?

rEfLeCtIoNs - tHe pArAdOx oF sHrInKiNg cItIeS Shrinking cities are a fascinating paradox for architects, because it is within the context of contradicting conditions that design thinking thrives. In this case, solutions could take into consideration a wide spectrum of interrelating factors, whilst also abandoning the traditional growth oriented methods of planning to

consider a more inclusive methodology, which brings together perspectives from other fields such as economy and sociology. Responses in these cases require the coordination between multiple stakeholders and a more experimental approach towards planning. On an even broader level, shrinking cities pose questions about our culture and who we have become. Whilst the cities we have built reflect our most successful attempt at remaking the world according to our hearts’ desires, they are also the places we are condemned to live in. As part of globalisation, even cities have become commodities that shrink, grow or are destroyed according to capital flow. Though shrinking cities are perceived as negative, they are places which offer an opportunity for the emergence of new cultures, identities and spontaneous experiences which cannot be quantified or replicated elsewhere for the sole purpose of economic growth. They are places where an accelerated rate of civilization occurs: what would the relevance of the architectural profession be in this context?

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however, there are friends - they can be found anywhere, become your family, and are there to help you. Furthermore, as a student, you are part of an institution that provides the right surroundings for you to be able to cope through this departure. Lastly of course, technology makes connecting with home much, much easier. In this way, you are never alone in this world and wherever you wish to depart, there will always be someone there that will make you feel like home. Stephany Emma Govier

dEpArTuRe = tHe aCtIoN oF lEaViNg, eSpEcIaLlY tO sTaRt a jOuRnEy

fRoM aN oLd mEnTaLiTy tO a nEw oNe

e all remember our ﬁrst steps into the student life. Scared, confused and distracted, we entered a new dimension of existence. Away from home, we faced several challenges we were probably not prepared for: living on our own, speaking a different language and even washing the dishes constantly. We were no longer children, we had become adults. But we also had something valuable that we then lost over the years of studying: innocence. Back then, we saw architecture as an ‘eternal ideal’, imagining ourselves as modern versions of Le Corbusier, changing the world and designing masterpieces. Not long after we became students, we realized how naive we were. Architecture was no longer about dreams and ideals

and Le Corbusier no longer the greatest architected that ever existed. Instead we had different concerns - how do I use a technical pen, where do I print my plans, how do I laser cut my plywood sheets? This became our reality, a bittersweet one. A new mentality grew in our minds and shaped our characters. We became devoted to our craft, sacriﬁcing fun and pleasure for the sake of our architecture projects. Sleepless nights, early morning tutorials, ﬁnger cuts and glue gun burns cannot stop us now. Whether we grew up or just found something that we like doing, studying architecture has changed us. Some of us became more creative, some more dedicated and some just purely workaholics. At least, we now have something wonderful: the pleasure and accomplishments of creating something with our own hands, rooted in our imagination and entirely ours. Somehow it feels as if we have started to make some sense of this world. Our departure from home was not just about becoming independent. A shift of mentalities was triggered by our change of context and visions, and it will constantly change throughout the years. We will perceive ourselves as unchanged, but we will not be the same. Soon enough we will leave university and will be thrown into the reality of an architecture practice. And we will survive this to. Departure is an experience we must face in order to evolve and expand our visions. We will invariably continue to depart from place to place (whether a physical or mental one) and arrive somewhere new. So this is just the beginning for us. We still have a lot of departures to outcome. Hopefully, we won’t get lost on the way. Daria Ciobanu - Enescu 43

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aRcHiTeCtUrAl eXpLoR Shaw Hern Ang, second year MArchD student, investigates travelling as an architecture student

“The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page.” - Saint Augustine of Hippo

ince the day we were born, we started on the journey of life. Everyone is a traveller, we grow through our daily travels. We depart to school, we depart to work, and we depart to see the world. Traveling is essential for us to understand and appreciate life. Life is full of anticipation, events are planned and unplanned, we have ups and downs, glory and despair, as well as desires and choices. The same thing happen when we travel. Traveling is often referred as an opportunity for relaxation from everyday life - however, travel itself can be split into several types: solo travel, group travel with family or friends, research ﬁeld trips and business travel. We travel for different purposes and each involves different kinds of planning, emotional experiences, memories and revisits.

Architecture is a long journey; it involves acquiring multidisciplinary skills. It is a discipline between art and science, a mixture of sentimental and logical thinking. The Architect is a businessman and philosopher. Why do some people ﬁnd traveling so fascinating and addictive? According to De Botton (2003), “What we ﬁnd exotic abroad may be what we hunger for in vain at home”. I am from the tropical country of Malaysia - of the places I have visited, the mountainous and snowy landscape of New Zealand had one of the greatest impressions on me. However, a German friend, whom I met in the country, feels differently - he preferred the beaches. This difference is for the simple reason that such landscapes cannot be found in our own countries.

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RaTiOnS

Of course, travelling does not always result in beautiful memories. I have heard a lot of frightening, sad and even life threatening travel experiences from different frequent travellers. De Botton asserts that the relationship between the anticipation of travel and its reality will always be one of the common question. We always plan and expect to create a perfect trip because we have to spend time and money on it. Some people like to plan full schedule, whilst others like to spend whole days just lying on the beach, basking in the sunshine with a pitcher of cocktail. However, we cannot expect that it will not rain, transport will always be smooth, accidents will not happen. Life is full of uncontrollable variables that may hinder our plans. Hence, it could deform your plans and create some unexpected memories. Once, a fellow backpacker told me that “no plan is the best plan”.

Who knows what will we confront? But who would like to take the risks? Within the architectural discipline, travel is another way to enhance our skills and is beneﬁcial to our practice. The responsibility of an architect is to design better buildings in this world; travel can be a catalyst to stimulate the architect to see the beauty of this world and learn through it.

lIfE iS fUlL oF uNcOnTrOlLaBlE vArIaBlEs tHaT mAy hInDeR oUr pLaNs. hEnCe, iT cOuLd dEfOrM yOuR pLaNs aNd cReAtE sOmE uNeXpEcTeD mEmOrIeS 49

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a pArT-tImE pUrSuIt I grew up in a developing country and am not from a wealthy family, so I always had to look for job opportunities to earn and save to fund my hobbies - one of which was to travel as often as I could. I have worked in several part-time jobs since I was 12, and continue to do so every semester break. Each job has its importance in this society, and each experience has valuable lessons to be learned. Many of us always think that we can only learn architectural things from working in the related ďŹ eld. Therefore, we only look for seemingly relevant job titles, like CAD technician, or 3D renderer. However, how many of such speciďŹ c vacancies are available in this competitive world?

I have worked as a waiter in several restaurants, from noodle bars, franchises and seafood joints. Restaurants have a particular workďŹ&#x201A;ow and each has a different level of complexity - but through this I have learnt how they can be best planned, spatially. I have also worked as a sales assistant in a luxury outlet too, and have often met customers with clear mind what to buy, or customers who just want to have a look and walk in the shop. This experience was a chance to train my communication skills in approaching them and persuading them to purchase something according to their needs. Sometimes, I met architects, engineers or

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bEyOnD a hOlIdAy contractors from different countries, and exchanged contacts with them. This way, I have expanded my networks and perhaps even made new friends. Throughout these experiences, I have served different kinds of customers - lovely, polite, kind, nasty, rude, unreasonable - at every turn. This is where I learnt to communicate and engage with clients in a project. I learnt to listen, interpret, and then understand their demands. This is an essential skill that an architect should acquire. With this skill, we are able to develop our design in the client’s mindset.

wHeN wE tAkE uP tHe cHaLlEnGe, sOmEtHiNg tRaNsCeNdEnTaL cAn bE eXpErIeNcEd fRoM aN uNeXpEcTeD rEsUlT

In 2015, I was lucky enough to be granted one of 1150 working holiday visas to New Zealand, where applications are only once in a year. I was so excited because I had applied unsuccessfully once before. Excited, but also nervous: my trip was booked for 2 months time, and there were so many uncertainties and procedures to face before I could depart. Before my departure, I had already looked for work opportunities. Although there were a few vacancies available, everything was still unknown until I arrived in New Zealand. Whilst it seemed easy enough to ﬁnd something in one location, I had to factor in my desire to travel (and work) around the whole country during this time period. I joined several Facebook groups and forums to get the updated news from fellow travellers from time to time. With luck, I found someone looking for travel buddies. I did not know them before, but joined them in Christchurch for a trip around South Island. Surprises always come from the unexpected. During the journey we acted like a team, dividing the work between us: driver, planner, photographer, cook, entertainer and diplomat - everything worked out well and we are still close friends now. This trip showed me the importance of distributing responsibilities to make use of people’s different strengths. Similar to a construction project, everyone in the project plays their important roles to make the project to success. We also take risks when we design, evaluating and speculating on current trends. When we take up the challenge, something transcendental can be experienced from an unexpected result. 51

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On another occasion, I joined a 4 day sailing race without any prior experience of sailing. This was another eye-opener for me. Fortunately, I managed to have my entry sponsored through an unexpected network - a bursary known to one of my housemates. Knowing that I didn’t need to worry about my ﬁnances for this trip meant that I could embrace the challenge more fully. I was taught the skills needed to sail the tall ship we were racing and became fully involved as member of the team - rigging, conquer my fears to climb up to the top of mast, watching wild dolphins swimming with the ship in the middle of sea under the clear sky and meeting new friends from all walks of life. Unexpectedly, there were 3 architects on the ship and they were in the same team as me. We manned the 4am - 8am watch and were able to enjoy the spectacular starry nights and a visible Milky Way, the sunrise and sunset every day. The sound

of the sea waves splashing onto the ship body, and the salty wind caressing my body made some of the most peaceful moments of my life. Finally, I understood something of the feelings of Wordsworth when immersed in the beauty of nature. Conquer the fear and enjoy the moment - it is sublime. Such an experience would deﬁnitely will enhance the architect’s sensitivities - well designed spaces are much enhanced by such emotions and experiences.

tRaVeLlInG aS aN aRcHiTeCt The architect is a planner. We plan the work and take action. We expect things happen according to schedule. That is why we have a project schedule as guideline. However, things may go wrong in the middle of project. An unexpected event could surprise us or even make us

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panic. In fact, it is the same experience as when travelling - the architect has to be cautious and innovative on solving problems. The architect is a designer. We listen to the clientâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s requirement and demands. We design accordingly with our taste of aesthetics as well as knowledge in law and regulation. Being a designer, we have to be adventurous and courageous to implement new technologies and design elements. It is the same experience as travelling to discover the new things in this modernisation and fast growing society. The architect is a businessman. We need to acquire entrepreneurial skills to ensure our companies survive in this competitive world. With the changing environment, the architect may sooner or later be replaced by expertise in other sectors, such as engineers, contractors

or even the layman armed with sketchup. Many architecture ďŹ rms are no longer only practicing architecture - they do furniture, interior design, fashion design, even event photography services. With multidisciplinary practices, the architect is no longer a profession in the construction industry, but rather an artist with technical knowledge and philosophy within. We need to broaden our networks to reach out for opportunities and help from others, from within our profession and to other sectors and expertise. It is the same experience as when travelling, to need and accept advice or physical help when we may experience some problems in new situations. What is departure? It is the point from which one faces uncertainties and changes in daily life. In this way, travel is essential for an architect to improve their skills and practice.

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rEcOvErInG hOmEs aFtEr dIsAsTeR OSA Editor Sonia Tong speaks to Bill Flinn, senior shelter consultant at Care International and CENDEP lecturer, about his experiences on the job and working in many different countries, such as Nepal, the Philippines, Fiji, Vanuatu and Ecuador.

sOnIa

tOnG: How would describe your current job and what it entails?

bIlL

fLiNn: My main job at the moment is working with CARE International where I’m a senior shelter advisor. My other job is teaching the Shelter after Disaster course with CENDEP at Oxford Brookes. At CARE, my work has many aspects but the most important is supporting our country ofﬁces in 70 different countries across the world,

so that they are prepared for dealing with a major disaster if it strikes in their part of the world. Current disasters we are dealing with at the moment are the effects of Hurricane Matthew in Haiti, the Syrian crisis in the middle east and the displacement of people in the offensive against the city of Mosul in Iraq. My work involves supporting those country ofﬁces in anything that has to do with the need for shelter: the need for housing or for something over your head.

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sT: Do you build and design shelters for all of these places? bF:

It all depends on the context every situation and disaster is unique so it’s very difﬁcult to generalise. Shelter also encompasses strategies such as providing rented accommodation or families hosting Syrian refugees in Lebanon. We might also be looking at a situation where refugees have crossed the border into a camp. There is a tendency for us to be moving away from actual construction, and moving more towards enabling the construction.

home, and how they try to recreate their home for themselves after a disaster?

bF: People very quickly start to put their stamp on the place where they are living. I’ve seen people living inside a tent where they’ve planted ﬂowers outside, they start little stores, build extensions, and use the house for so much more than just a place to sleep. A good shelter project manifests in the way that people take care of the exterior of the building. Now we tend to support self recovery more - people are already building their houses, how do we support that process?

sT: Did you work as an architect in the sT: traditional sense before that?

bF: I am a fully qualiﬁed architect, but my work has been split between working overseas doing humanitarian work and whilst in the UK I’ve worked as a builder and ran my own building company in Bristol. I worked in the Kathmandu valley for a year whilst I was still a student, and decided to learn to be a builder after that to get a practical skill, so that I would understand how buildings are put together. sT: What does home mean to you? bF: We have an expression: “ a house is more than four walls and a roof”. A shelter is not just protection from the elements. Home is where you bring up your children, where you cook your meals, where you sleep at night, it’s where you have your livelihood, where you invest your dignity and your sense of pride. sT:

In your experience, have you observed any common ways that people deal with the fact that they've lost their

Is there any community master planning or thought into urban design of neighbourhoods when you are implementing a program of self recovery?

bF:

People often build their houses where they built them before, so urban planning doesn’t always come into it. If we take the approach of supporting a process of self recovery, it requires both the planners and the architects to take a step back and support what is inevitably going to happen anyway. Regardless of your plans, you can’t have a successful project without community buy-in. So we try and work through partners, such as local NGOs, who often have very good contact with the communities. Even though it’s an emergency and things have to happen quickly, community engagement and consultation are absolutely vital.

i’vE sEeN pEoPlE lIvInG iNsIdE a tEnT wHeRe tHeY’vE pLaNtEd fLoWeRs oUtSiDe

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eScApE fRoM tHe dAiLy gRiNd:

zAmBiA eDiTiOn Second year MArchD student Amit Bura writes about his experiences interning in rural Zambia

s an architecture student, thoughts about experiencing something different during long school breaks often comes to mind for many students. If not for many, I certainly wanted a change from ‘normal’ office work to that of ‘hands on’ work experience. Moreover, this became something of an imperative for me as a Masters student - approaching the end of my architectural education, I thought it was the best time for me to try something out of the ordinary. After looking for various options, I was accepted as an intern architect for a school build project in Zambia with Orkidstudio, small design organisation based in Glasgow, Scotland. As a first timer travelling alone to a foreign land, I made sure I did all important research, read numerous travel blogs from visitors before I set off. I was both surprised and relieved at the same time to know that official language of Zambia was English. I arrived in the capital Lusaka a few days ahead of the rest of the group and spent some time at a backpacker’s hostel - where it turned out that nearly all of the guests staying there were student 62

also volunteers or tourists who came to Zambia solely to see the Victoria Falls. The hostel itself was not yet a far cry from home - the 2016 Euro cup was screening in the bar and the food served in the restaurant still slightly too expensive for an interning student. I resolved to cook for myself in the not so well equipped kitchen at the hostel, and went to find the nearest food store, which turned out to be in a shopping mall. Yet again, I was surprised. It was a huge building complex, housing all kinds of shops where you could find just about anything you wanted. Those gleaming floor tiles inside the mall and extravagant uses of glass for the lift and shop interiors, in contrast to the shabby buildings around it made me pause for thought. I had to keep reminding myself I was in Zambia.

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After spending my time at the hostel, I ﬁnally met the group that I would be working together for next two months, after weeks of email exchanges. In a taxi ride to our new accommodation quarters, I spoke with the project manager in order to get more familiarised with the task ahead. It was pleasure hearing that practice we were representing was well supported by the other building consultants back in the UK. It was great feeling of relief to know we were not working alone in this. At this point I deﬁnitely felt that I had made the right decision to apply for the internship. At this moment, I was very enthusiastic to get started with the construction. When we reached our accommodation, we set down our bags and the owner, Milaya, showed us around. The property would be rented to us throughout our

duration of stay. Though the flat was neat and well furnished, the area suffered from power outages every evening. This was remedied by candlelight and a propane gas stove for cooking, which had to be taken back to the town centre to be refilled every time it became empty. And so similar inconveniences became the minor difficulties we had to face in terms of logistics, resources and transport from A to B in our everyday tasks. We couldn’t afford a taxi every time this happened, so I would often volunteer to go into town by bus, which was actually a minivan. This in itself was an experience: rather than follow a schedule, the van would not leave for its next stop unless it was completely full with passengers. I am not a claustrophobe, but when ending up in the back seat of the van full of passengers, with only tiny head room to spare and just enough gaps to breathe, I could sense what it meant to be claustrophobic. In some situations, to be able to bolt out of the emergency exits became wishful thinking.

aS a mAsTeRs sTuDeNt, aPpRoAcHiNg tHe eNd oF mY aRcHiTeCtUrAl eDuCaTiOn, i tHoUgHt iT wAs tHe bEsT tImE fOr mE tO tRy sOmEtHiNg oUt oF tHe oRdInArY.

We spent our ﬁrst week familiarising ourselves with the local environment and were then joined by the rest of the group that were arriving from the UK, ready to 63

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With a combination of dry land and ﬂoating communities, classrooms sit on ﬂoating platforms in a series of strategically centralised places, so that children can row themselves to school on small “sampans”, the style boat used by vendors within the community. It isn’t an uncommon sight to see smaller children row themselves around the village in large metal tubs within short distances, as sampans are expensive to buy and are used by the adults for work. Although the communities have provision for some schools, humanitarian organisations have long provided funds and supplies to help with the education of children growing up on the lake.

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As the sun sets on another day at Tonle Sap there is a commotion of sampans and boats tearing the water in all directions. Fishermen, tourist taxiboats, and sampan vendors all make their way back home as the days count towards the next seasonal journey that leads this nomadic population to higher waters once more.

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oNcE a cOlOnIaL hOtEl, nOw aN iNhAbItEd rUiN Researcher Emma Hall writes about the transformation of a once glorious hotel in Mozambique to a ruin inhabited by squatters

zambique gained ofﬁcial independence from Portugal on June 25th, 1975. After ten years of armed struggle, the country’s former Portuguese inhabitants ﬂed the country almost overnight. In the wake of the exodus, a wealth of modernist buildings were left, ranging from the works of Gustave Eiffel and Art Deco, to the idealistic blend of Moderno Tropical and Brutalism. In the moment of the collective departure, the buildings became ruins, inherent in the fact that the old inhabitants had left by force - a distinction made by the writer Gilda Williams. This wealth would become tarnished however, not only by the colonial

memory but by the self-destruction of the Portuguese, who in some cases went as far as pouring concrete through drains during their exit. Navigating this land of memory, Mozambicans can appear decidedly stoic to outsiders, preserving the city even down to light ﬁxtures in some cases, although the inﬂux of new buildings and structures should also be noted. In poorer communities, however, the treatment of the concrete structures shows an attempt to alter these structures in a way out of verse with that of the respectful middle class, but perhaps more understandable given the means and traditions of the community; typically 75

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from rural backgrounds with an expertise in traditional builds. This is an unusual spectacle in the country’s larger cities where this class is largely conﬁned to the outskirts. However, inside of the country’s second largest city, Beira, you’ll ﬁnd the Grande Hotel, a sanctuary for migrants during the country’s civil war, and today, home to 2,500 squatters. The following is taken from an earlier article and examines the adoption of

these abandoned spaces at the hands of the country’s rural working class inside of the country’s biggest anomaly; the Grande Hotel.

tHe gRaNdE hOtEl Once the epitome of colonial glamour and luxury, the Grande Hotel was the perfect symbol of colonial Mozambique until it closed it’s doors in 1967 following ﬁnancial difﬁculties induced by its own 76

grandeur. The continuing years saw FRELIMO (the Mozambican liberation movement) take control of the old hotel after independence, such that it naturally became a base during the country’s civil war. Even today, some of these original settlers still live in the building. Now they are alongside migrants who also arrived during the civil war. Displaced during this period, they came to the hotel, which by this time had already developed into an informal settlement. Today, new arrivals

still come. Typically originating from rural Mozambique, settlers bring with them the vernacular skills and traditions less prevalent in the assimilated middle classes. Over time, these settlers have manipulated the structure and make-up of the building to accommodate their needs and livelihoods. Originally designed by the architect Franciso Castro as a grand tourist hotel, complete with a ballroom, cinema and

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Olympic swimming pool, all grandeur was lost when the hotel’s first settlers began stripping the interior, selling the furniture, fixtures and fittings. Now, the building’s bare concrete is pocketed with crevices from where metal fixing and even cables have been removed. In fact, these elements have no ornamentation remaining.

For

many

Beira,

this

destruction of the original space has resulted in a negative portrayal of the hotel’s inhabitants, with many referring to

inhabitants bring with them. This includes the traditional Mozambican practice of machambas, a traditional allotment on which most people farm their own crops such as cassava throughout the year. The large mass of land surrounding the hotel is now filled with machambas. Unable to encroach on the concrete flooring, some even use the small cracks in the roof to grow tomatoes, thus raising the question of whether the ratio of dwelling to land is sufficient. At times, the building also

oVeR tImE tHeSe sEtTlErS hAvE mAnIpUlAtEd tHe sTrUcTuRe aNd mAkEuP oF tHe bUiLdInG tO aCcOmMoDaTe tHeIr nEeDs aNd lIvElIhOoDs.

the community as Watha muno, meaning ‘one from there’, or rather not from here (Beira). This, coupled with the violence and crime reported in the area, has led many in Beira to steer clear of the site. But the building is often a hostile environment for the inhabitants themselves, not least because of the rigid limits of the concrete structure. For instance, the hotel has little tolerance for the vernacular practices many of the

appears to cause a social barrier due to its inﬂexible compartmentalisation, meaning social activities such as cooking and washing, normally undertaken in the open veranda or garden, are now restricted to the conﬁnes of the internalised private realm of the balcony or darkened room. This leaves some residents to express a new sense of loneliness commonly associated with city living. Most upsetting, though, are the failings brought on from the lack of barriers around damaged 77

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openings. When visiting I was told a threeyear-old child had fallen two stories from an open walkway and died. Unlike the violence and crime, which could be attributed to any area of poverty, such incidents highlight the dangers inherent in living in a modernist ruin, a concern made all the more pressing by the building’s increasingly precarious structural state - a local architect Senhor Ivo questioned the likelihood of the building being allowed to stand for much longer, given its need for structural reinforcement.

have even claimed stairwells and landings, with one stair-dweller visibly pleased by the home he had managed to build for his family overlooking Beira. In this way the hotel has begun to shift from a formal building to a ‘concrete landscape’, to be as freely used and torn up as the land set outside of the city. And despite the creeping sense of alienation as mentioned above, more positive social practices have developed, practices which reveal a sense of

iT iS sTiLl iNtRiGuInG aS aN oUtSiDeR tO wItNeSs pEoPlE uSiNg a bUiLdInG aS fReElY aS tHeY wOuLd iN tHe lAnDsCaPe bEyOnD tHe cItY.

rE-iMaGiNiNg tHe sPaCe Despite these failings, the hotel’s community have brought some hope to the state of the building, and a beauty that is overlooked by its critics. Through their manipulation and use of the space, architects and planners can distinguish a unique revival of the ruin at the hands of the people. As is often the case with informal settlements, those with a vernacular knowledge have the ability to build and live in a way that suits them almost immediately. Although the failings are obvious, it is still intriguing as an outsider to witness people using a building as freely as they would in the landscape beyond the city. Inside the hotel, many have built up their home almost overnight; within the hotel’s enormous hallways are homes built from a combination of concrete blocks, woven reed, timber and steel. Not put off by the conventions of tower blocks, inhabitants 78

community spirit clearly at odds with the stories of crime and violence. These include the block leaders who overlook the running of the hotel and provide help and advice for their respective dwellers; market stalls dotted around the main entrance, but also in block corridors higher up, suggesting a sort of ‘streets in the sky’ setup, and outside, on the grounds, a church, a mosque, a school and enough space for games of football. In the de-cluttering of forms and materiality, there is also a purer expression of the true form of the building, now unencumbered by its former ﬁxtures. As an architect of the 1948 congress, Castro, the architect, would have been indoctrinated into a liberal, possibly utopian way of thinking and designing, subverted to suit the context of fascist Estado Civil. The stripping of the building exposes these intentions, revealing beautiful walkways and striking voids

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reminiscent of Park Hill. It is unsurprising, therefore, that the photographer Guy Tilimâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s most beautiful photograph of the Grande Hotel is the stripped-out concrete staircase, covered only in the light from the unglazed windows above in an almost pure expression of brutalism. The predicament of the inhabitants is a sad one, and indeed perhaps the hotel is not as welcoming as the porous natural land outside of the city. However, in present day Mozambique, is it not feasible to consider adopting the working class into the existing frame of the city? This is not an argument though, but rather a new exploration of a very small and unique fraction of modernist ruins in Mozambique, a country deeply overlooked in the wider discussion of modernism today.

As outsiders, though, and especially in the west, we could use the dramatic relics of Mozambican modernism as a new example of beauty in the modern ruin. Here is an example where time and destruction have been fast-forwarded into a situation only imaginable in a post-apocalyptic ďŹ ction. More importantly, they have been altered by means we would never attempt, that is, by the everyday man, using vernacular techniques on a large scale. With the absence of engineers and architects, the reality is that the lifespan of the ruins is nearing complete destruction, unless as Senhor Ivo notes, funds are obtained for basic repairs. However, what remains is still strangely beautiful at times. All ruins are freighted with possibilities.

This ar tic le was originally publishe d by Faile d Archite c ture on 1 0 April 2014 and is accessible at www. f a il e d a r c h i t e c t u r e . c o m /o n c e - a c olonial - hote l - now - an - inhabite d r uin / . I t has b e en re printe d by OS A with with the e ditor â&#x20AC;&#x2122;s p ermission 79

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dReAmS aNd rEaLiTy: mEtRo mAnIlA MArchD year 2 student Martina Ferrao reflects on her experience working for a community NGO in the Philippines

ntering my ﬁnal year of university, I felt that the summer was my last opportunity to truly engage in a part of the world that had interested me for some time. I had a previous connection to the island of Coron, Philippines where I had worked as part of a team to develop an ecovillage for displaced indigenous people affected by disaster. Trying to ‘help’ these people by working remotely for 6 months from my desk in Bristol, I felt so far removed from the reality of their lives and perhaps subjecting onto them a ﬁrst world idea of how people should live that it prompted me to question who these architectural designs were really for - in this case it

was for the land donor, the positive marketing of the architectural practice, the funders and the political interest of the Mayor. When project fell through for political reasons, I questioned what we really knew about the landscape, culture and identity of our clients - the people. By then my afﬁnity to the Philippines was far too great and the niggle to explore what is meant by ‘architect’ came to the forefront. I decided that I would investigate the role of an architect in a context that couldn’t be more further removed from my own experience in Bristol. Armed with the classroom skills, two years of

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practical experience and transferred myself in the role of the architect. I knowledge of my peers in the learnt very quickly that politics play Development and Emergency Practice a pivotal role in the activity of this course, I flew to Manila for a two month particular NGO and discovered how architectural internship to work in a much the government actually relies ‘slum’ - a word I still find uncomfortable on the work they do in order to appear in using to describe people’s homes. to be protecting the interests of the Despite having the fastest growing Filipino people. economy in Asia in 2014, the Philippines has the largest slum in Metro Manila Our task was in part to assess the where some densities reach between current living conditions of the 75,000 - 80,000 people per square families, survey and record the existing mile. I undertook an internship with temporary/semi permanent dwellings The Foundation for the Development built of concrete, metal sheeting and of the Urban Poor (FDUP), a small local wooden panels which used the creek as NGO whose work a source for drainage. spans over 50 We established that years. one of the main issues wOrKiNg rEmOtElY for the community fOr 6 mOnThS fRoM The project mY dEsK iN bRiStOl, i was no provision for assigned to me fElT sO fAr rEmOvEd electricity or clean was to work in fRoM tHe rEaLiTy oF drinking water. We the Barangay were to undertake tHeIr lIvEs district of Lower the highly emotive Calamansian task of ‘re blocking’ where an informal settlement of 56 people’s plots to accommodate a families live in an area prone to flash 3 metre easement policy for water flooding and which is geographically side settlements brought in by the divided by a heavily polluted creek. government in 2014, whilst ensuring Each day I hopped on and off a Jeepney each plot was a minimum of 21m2 (souped up American army trucks bearing in mind that each family on serving as public transport) costing 11p average consisted of six members of a journey to meet with my project team. varying ages . The office is in a suburban area called Teachers Village and the building is a After immersing myself into fragmented, former house with 2m high walls, a blue translated meetings with the community metal gate and no signage. There were leaders, I began to question everything. three of us in our team; the community I wanted to know who these people development officer, an engineer, and were and where they had come from,

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what they thought of the way they lived and what their expectations were from the organisation. The Lower Calamansian community are migrants from the provinces - the rural areas of the Philippines - who were in search of the lifestyles they saw on television. The Barangay settlement been recognised for 30 years now and yet the living conditions have only degraded. The thought that these people abandoned their farms and homes near beautiful beaches and luscious landscapes saddened me as I watched their children now playing in the swampy waters that hosted their piggery faecal waste. This realisation was like a kick to my stomach. I found the relationship between the NGO and the community to be transparent and I enjoyed getting to know the ‘Ates’

(respectful phrase meaning ‘elder sister’). However, when I was asked to present my ideas for the treatment of the easement and layout for the reblocking of the remaining land, I was concerned about the aspirations of the community and it became apparent that miracles were expected, and not only that, for free! With a government loan of up to P125,000/£1,750 per household at a 6% interest rate, I began to wonder if the government and the NGO would end up being part of the problem rather than the solution. It occurred to me that these people would now be entering into a contract of debt which they currently don’t have. Their campaign to legally obtain the land they live on was costing them 1.5 million pesos, which, up until that point was 0.5 million pesos

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tHe tHoUgHt tHaT tHeSe pEoPlE aBaNdOnEd tHeIr fArMs aNd hOmEs sAdDeNeD mE aS i wAtChEd tHeIr cHiLdReN nOw pLaYiNg iN tHe sWaMpY wAtErS. tHiS rEaLiSaTiOn wAs lIkE a kIcK tO mY sToMaCh.

over a 2 year period. Once the land was purchased, the clearance of the homes near the water would mean rehousing and rebuilding. The average four walls and roof building costs a minimum of P175,000 which the government loan didn’t cover. This is for people whose daily income goes from hand to mouth.

There was no evidence, that I could see, to support the assumption of a better life. How could they afford this? They simply can’t. This undoubtedly made it difﬁcult to design a housing typology that I believed the community could afford as well as having the potential to adapt as their families grew.

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I presented an idea to cross the easement with a suspended wooden walkway with gabions and planting beneath to try to salvage and strengthen the brittle soil and offer some resilience against ﬂash ﬂooding. I tried to convince the community that maintenance on this type of treatment to the creek would be nominal considering it’s better rainwater surface absorption. I also tried to encourage the use of wood as a lightweight material to be used in

the construction of their homes for cost, adaptability and environmental attributes, however the community felt that concrete was the only material appropriate for building with, because of its perception with wealth. I couldn’t help but feel frustration at this irony. Interestingly, sharing her views with me, the community ofﬁcer expressed an undertone of unfairness for people ‘like these’ to be given all this help when people like her family could not think of owning their land and home but instead have to rent. I experienced inner turmoil of partially agreeing with her and feeling angry that someone in this profession could feel this way. I had all the intention and expectation that I would be doing my part to represent the ﬁeld of architecture in a manner that improved people’s lives, but

tHeRe wAs nO eViDeNcE, wHiCh i cOuLd sEe, tO sUpPoRt tHe aSsUmPtIoN oF a bEtTeR lIfE

instead came away feeling like a cycle of poverty had been extended. The intervention of the government and the lack of ability for the NGO to manage the community’s expectations and desires for materialistic possessions of our western culture inhibited the progress of reverting this cycle. My departure from my comfortable “Revit-ed” desk in an air-conditioned room in Bristol to the stiﬂing humid air in

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Manila exposed me to the challenges of addressing the effects of climate change and the importance of perception. The community perceived the opportunity of owning the land as advantageous instead of acknowledging it’s extremely poor quality and the debt involved in its acquisition. The community perceived concrete as a sign of wealth whilst also acknowledging climate change as a direct

mY dEpArTuRe eXpOsEd mE tO tHe cHaLlEnGeS oF aDdReSsInG tHe eFfEcTs oF cLiMaTe cHaNgE aNd tHe iMpOrTaNcE oF pErCePtIoN.

threat to their lives. The government perceives NGOs as accountable for it’s people and so expects them to offer services including legal advice, sanitary and medical education and shelter. The NGO perceives the community as their client, and so caters their resources to their wants, as opposed to their needs. My naive and limited experience would prompt me to suggest that perhaps if the government provided policies that addressed the lack of opportunities in provinces, then the inﬂux of migration into the city wouldn’t be as extreme, as less people would desire the artiﬁcial lure of wealth. Again, I feel as though the government should also introduce policies that encourage ecological and environmental methods of living, incorporating technical solutions for the betterment of the people. Finally, I believe that perhaps the NGO could

have allocated its stafﬁng resources more efﬁciently, as well as assisted in persuading, educating and explaining to the community solutions that would be long term and chose to engage in activities that they felt would genuinely help, as opposed to causing more damage. Despite these reservations, I do believe my expedition to the Philippines gave me a brief insight into what the role of an architect might be like in a local NGO. I fell madly in love with the people, the food and the landscape. If given the opportunity, I would not hesitate to repeat such an experience and will forever encourage these incredible learning experiences to future designers and shapers of the build environment.

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wE sNuCk tO tHe tOp oF a fAnCy hOtEl iN mAnHaTtAn aNd i fIlMeD hIm aS hE sToOd aToP tHe eDgE oF a sEvEnTy sToRy bUiLdInG’s rOoFtOp, pHoToGrApHiNg tHe sTrEeTs bElOw aNd bUiLdInGs sUrRoUnDiNg...

the street, I’ll notice someone and think, “I’d love to take her photograph.” Before photography, I probably would not have done a double take on a seventy-year-old man to notice that he was wearing green spectacles.

cH: When you get given a brief, how do you go about planning your shoot? When going on a trip, what do you pack? gV:

Packing for a trip, I try to keep

things light. My camera, a small tripod, microphone, etc. Minimal amount of clothing and gear keeps my body and mind at its best, which is what is most 88

important when it comes to bringing a visualized idea into reality.

cH: Living in NYC you get to experience a complete assault of the senses how do you like shooting in the urban environment?

gV: Shooting in an urban environment can be stressful at ﬁrst. Coming from a smaller town, there were not always possible subjects passing me by on the street, but now I see subjects everywhere I look. It can be overwhelming at ﬁrst, but having such a broad range of possible content is exciting and has helped me realize my aesthetic more clearly.

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...hAvInG tHiS pErSpEcTiVe, fRoM sOmEwHeRe wHeRe nOt mAnY pEoPlE gEt tHe oPpOrTuNiTy tO gO tO, dEfInItElY mAdE mE aPpReCiAtE tHe cItY aNd aRcHiTeCtUrE mUcH mOrE tHaN i cOuLd bY lOoKiNg uP fRoM tHe sTrEeT.

cH:

You spent time with the photographer known online as @ jamakiss, what was this like? Did you feel in danger?

gV: I shot a short documentary about James McNally, whose online name is @jamakis. He sneaks into buildings to take photographs from the roofs and ﬁnds solace in the heights, which is understandable in such a large, bustling city. The project was quite nerve racking. We snuck to the top of a fancy hotel in Manhattan and I ﬁlmed him as he stood atop the edge of a seventy story building’s

rooftop, photographing the streets below and buildings surrounding. Having this perspective, from somewhere where not many people get the opportunity to go to, deﬁnitely made me appreciate the city and architecture much more than I could by looking up from the street. It makes you feel like you are alone, yet in reality you are only a couple hundred of feet away from millions of people - quite an odd feeling, but something special as well.

cH:

Being surrounded by great architecture how do you use this ? Does this change the cities character?

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gV: The ability to share others’ stories is what I ﬁnd most special in the power of a camera. I have had the opportunity to connect with so many people and share their stories that I otherwise probably would never have even heard of or considered meeting. Photography

and ﬁlm work has taught me to observe and value the world around me in a way that is somewhat romantic. I now try to ﬁnd beauty in otherwise ugly situations, like crumbling buildings or people who have had to make their lives on the street. I have a strange gratitude to have discovered that ability. I hope to share my perspective with the world around me and show others that life is full of beauty,

pHoToGrApHy aNd fIlM wOrK hAs tAuGhT mE tO oBsErVe aNd vAlUe tHe wOrLd aRoUnD mE iN a wAy tHaT iS sOmEwHaT rOmAnTiC.

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iMaGiNaTiOn hAs nO lImItS

@ greg g g gs http://gregor yjamesvogel.com / 91

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oNe wAy tIcKeT tRaInS, dEaTh aNd mOdErNiTy

Second Year MArchD Student James Redman delves into the fascinating and morbid history of London’s Necropolis Railway.

uch is made in the UK’s architectural press about the schism between architecture as it is taught at university and as it is practiced in the workplace. Wherever you stand on the debate, one thing is for certain: no amount of Deleuzian theory, Rhino 3D workshops or ‘integrated open platform symposia’ quite prepares one for the astounding drudgery of the daily commute. For three, long years I endured not less than two hoursa-day travelling from South London to Richmond via Waterloo station; sweating to catch my train whilst dodging other commuters frantically pursuing their own journey’s end, only to be packed into stiﬂing tube carriages as sausage meat is stuffed into the intestine of a pig. Twice96

a-day, five days-a-week (discounting travel at weekends), I, and millions of other blighted Londoners repeated this dismal routine like rats in a cage, spinning on wheels. No doubt, at the end of this year, when at last the long summer of my higher education experience is over and I’m staring down the barrel of lifelong employment, I shall continue to repeat some other bloody commute, every bloody day, ad bloody infinitum. Well...not quite ad infinitum; only until the day I die or retire, whichever comes first (though judging by our nation’s dwindling fortunes and our ever-ageing population, I’d say that the former is looking all the more likely).

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So imagine my grim delight when I not only learned of the erstwhile existence of the London Necropolis Railway (LNR), but that it’s now derelict London terminus lies adjacent to none other than Waterloo Station, the very same station from which I conducted my commute. To think! I had passed it every day and it had escaped my notice; squatting in amongst the railway arches like the haunted venue from an episode of Scooby-Doo. Between the years of its inauguration in 1854, to its closure after the bombardment of its London terminus during the Blitz of 1941, the LNR conveyed the capital’s dead from Waterloo to a man-made Elysium, Brookwood Cemetery near Woking, Surrey. One can only wonder what the contemporary Victorian lawyers, clerks and chimney sweeps alike must have thought as they endured their own commutes; catching their trains every day, to-and-fro, knowing that, one day, they, like others they had seen before them, would be leaving London and the earthly-plane altogether by way of the other train. A profound sense of their own useless passivity in the face of the overawing march of modernity, I would imagine. Although I would imagine that; I was born after World War II.

a bErEaVeD lOnDoNeR aLiVe sOmEtImE aRoUnD 1850 mIgHt hAvE fOuNd tHe iDeA oF cOmMuTiNg bY tRaIn tO tHe aFtErLiFe rAtHeR lEsS uNsEtTlInG gIvEn tHe ‘gRaVe’ sItUaTiOn oF tHe tImE. A bereaved Londoner alive sometime around 1850 might have found the idea of commuting by train to the afterlife rather less unsettling given the ‘grave’ situation of the time. London’s population more than doubled in the ﬁrst half of the 19th Century from around one million souls in 1800 to just shy of three million by 1850 with around 38 per cent of that number being born somewhere outside of the city. Naturally, the sudden increase of live Londoner’s inevitably meant a directly proportional increase in dead ones too. The number of corpses requiring disposal became quite unmanageable with the creation of cemetery space in the city spectacularly failing to keep apace. Graves were desecrated and re-used with alarming regularity. In truly Dickensian fashion, there were even instances of the

Bro ok wo o d Station

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iT iS oFtEn sAiD tHaT hOw a cItY cHoOsEs tO dEaL wItH iTs dEaD sAyS a lOt aBoUt tHe cItY.

remains buried in paupers’ graves being exhumed to make room for the more recently deceased, then shipped north by the ton to be ground down into bonemeal and used as fertilizer. However, distasteful that might have been, it was the disinterred bones left scattered across the churchyard grass that proved the greatest risk to the living as material from decomposing bodies leaked into nearby drinking wells and springs causing disease. Matters ﬁnally came to a head with the cholera outbreak of 1848-49, which killed nearly 15,000 Londoners. Something drastic had to be done. The man with the plan was Sir Richard Broun whose singular genius enlightened him the fact that the same technology bringing all the living into London could 98

be used to take all the dead out again. In 1849, he proposed the acquisition of a vast swathe of land in what is now the Surrey village of Brookwood, to build a new cemetery for London’s dead on a scale and decadence beﬁtting of the greatest city in the world. The 2,000-acre plot he had in mind - soon dubbed “London’s Necropolis” - was about 25 miles from the city; far enough away to present no health hazard and cheap enough to allow for affordable burials there. The railway line from Waterloo to Southampton, Broun proposed, could offer a practical way to transport cofﬁns and mourners alike between London and the new cemetery. It is often said that how a city chooses to deal with its dead says a lot about the city. It is deeply telling, then, of

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the contemporary attitudes toward the role of technology and the future of the capital that Parliament took Broun’s idea seriously. In June 1852, they passed an Act of Parliament creating The London Necropolis and National Mausoleum Company, a name which was later shortened to The London Necropolis Company. The new cemetery at Brookwood was imagined on a scale and magniﬁcence that looked far into a shining future and was described in one of the LNC’s brochures in the following terms: Travellers on the South-Western line must have noticed the vast expanse of undulating common land, carpeted with heather, studded profusely with evergreens and shrubs, and dotted here and there with picturesque ivy-clad chapels, and mausoleums embowered in greenery that stretches away out of sight to the left of the line beyond Woking Station. This is the LONDON NECROPOLIS, a site unequalled in the country, and as pleasing a picture of repose and rural scenery as can well be desired...The site of the London Necropolis is of singular beauty. Placed in the midst of an elevated extensive plateau, in the picturesque county of Surrey, it presents to the eye on every side one of the grandest and most varied panoramas in England. In the laying out of this ground, an equal regard has been had to convenience, completeness of arrangement, and beauty of effect – trees, ﬂowers, plants, and winding walks diversifying the scene, and breaking the monotony of the ordinary grave ground.[1]

A necropolis! A city of the dead! A cemetery to match the size and importance of what Londoners of the time credibly reckoned to be the greatest city in all Christendom. Its vastness was deeply symbolic; it suggested infinity, the afterlife and the unknown. It accommodated for a future in which London and its empire would continue to grow in population and majesty. Above all, the beauty of Brookwood’s expertly sculpted hills, glades and ponds as the final resting places for London’s dead was one solution for all: rich or poor, conformist or nonconformist – albeit in varying degrees of beauty depending on one’s wealth, faith and political persuasion. Still, the many hundreds of acres of burial space consigned mass graves to the annals of history. London was to be a city of individuals where no grave, not even a pauper’s grave, would ever again be shared with another. It was a cemetery for a brave, new, hygienic, dignified and cosmopolitan London. And you got there by train.

Extract from: One Way T icket by James Redman. Read the art icle in i ts ent iret y on the OSA webs i te: www.osamag. c o . u k / b l o g

Image 2 by By Ben Brooksbank, CC BYSA 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia. org /w/index.php?curid=10853418iMAGE Image 3 by self - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https:// commons.wikimedia.org /w/index.php?curid=603862 [1] Clarke, John M. (2004). London’s Necropolis. Stroud: Sutton Publishing, pg. 19 99

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sPaCe tRaVeL is unlocking

uToPiA Fir s t y e a r u ndergraduate student A d a m W e s t spe c u l a t e s about the future spac e t r a v e l a n d a p o tential utopian soci e t y

tHe jUsTiFiCaTiOn oF uToPiA

sPaCe tRaVeL aNd sOcIeTy

Many are afraid to dream of Utopia. The last attempt at Utopia failed did it not?

Space travel has had one of the most profound impacts on society in human history. From space, we were able to see ourselves for the ﬁrst time as a pale blue island amongst an inﬁnite black sea.

tHe lArGeSt nAtIoNs iN tHe wOrLd hAvE sEt aSiDe cOnFlIcT tO wOrK tOgEtHeR tO uNdErStAnD hOw pEoPlE cAn lIvE iN sPaCe fOr lOnG pErIoDs oF tImE “The word Utopia means ‘no place’. It was never meant to exist.” You may say. But what if nobody ever tried to dream of Utopia? Architecture is synthesis. It is creating something that doesn’t currently exist. Utopia is not currently a place, but this does not mean it can’t be.

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Since the ﬁrst man-made object in space was launched in 1942, society has dreamed of a life outside of Earth and capitalised on the second best thing: making TV programmes about space and their future in it. Captain Kirk trekked across stars in peace and cooperation with his mixedspecies crew and communicated with other space-travellers by the 1960s vision of a mobile phone and Skype, inspiring a generation of space enthusiasts to make peace with the Romulans.

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tHe lEsSoN oF tHe iSs To live in space requires a Utopian society. This is the ultimate beauty of the idea, embodied in the International Space Station: the largest nations in the world have set aside conﬂict to work together to understand how people can live in space for long periods of time. They have to learn to cooperate. After all, it is the future of humanity. Earth is running out of resources. This collaboration is an example of how space travel can create temporary Utopias on small scales. The astronaut Chris Hadﬁeld, commander of the ISS from December 2012 to March 2013, claims that “Life aboard the international space station is like magic. If

you could take everyone and have them ride aboard a vehicle that would allow them to see the Earth a thousand times, it would change their perception of their place in the world and maybe the world’s place in the universe”. Technology is advancing: the Virgin Galactic will soon be able to make a round space trip to any person who wishes to (and has the cash) to go into space. We can imagine that within the next century, all people will be able to experience our planet from this perspective and when they do, their perception of their place on Ewarth will be altered. We will have to face cooperation on a galactic scale, and once again address our visions of Utopia. In space or on Earth.

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iNtErViEw: tOm fInGeRpRiNt sTuDiOs

dEpArTiNg fRoM aRcHiTeCtUrE tO sTaGe dEsIgN Third year student, Daria Ciobanu-Enescu interviews architect Gabriela Albu, owner of the Bucharest based design firm Tom Fingerprint Studios about her departure from architecture towards scenography.

Tom Fingerprint Studios is a Romanian architectural ďŹ rm that is well known for its diverse portfolio, from housing and retail to interior design. In recent years, the focus and interest of the studio has shifted towards theatre and performance and have already developed an impressive body of work in scenography and stage design.

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dArIa cIoBaNueNeScU : I understand that your design studio is currently engaged in a series of scenography projects. What was the trigger for this decision and what attracted you towards theater?

gAbRiElA aLbU: I have enjoyed going to the theater regularly since my childhood and so my fascination for scenography has always existed. Having both artistic skills (I graduated from the Fine Arts College) and technical skills (both my parents are architects), studying architecture was a natural thing. During university I collaborated with student directors from the Theater Institute in Bucharest, though after graduation (fourteen years ago) I had about ten years of theatrical ‘blackout’. After graduation and finishing my qualifications, having already formed a network of clients throughout university, I founded a little architectural practice and I worked in my domain, at various scale projects: from houses to industrial halls and even shopping malls. Architecture is suffocated by bureaucracy in Romania and the client needs extensive training, which implies a lot of time and patience. The effort for finalising a project as you imagined it to be is tremendous. The artistic factor gets to weight very little and the imagination and creative energy gets lost in the absurdity of bureaucracy. Many times you get to the point where you finalize a project and you’re so exhausted that you don’t have the enthusiasm to add it to your portfolio. You need to be extremely passionate and determined in order to keep up.

The change occurred after ten years of architecture, when a good friend who is an actress proposed to me to collaborate in creating a stage design for a theater play. Then her colleagues asked me to help them with the conversion of an old cannery from 1960 into an independent theater space. Then they offered me to design the scenography for a play. From there, things evolved naturally, from recommendation to recommendation, theater directors started discovering me similarly to the way the architecture clients discovered me.

dC:

More and more architects are getting involved in scenography projects nowadays. What do you believe are the reasons for this change of perspectives?

gA :In Romania, architects are always involved in the artistic domain. Since 1960, a lot of them designed scenography and theater and ﬁlm décor, for example the famous director Liviu Ciulei who graduated from the Royal Conservatory of Music and Theater from Bucharest (1946) and then architecture (1949).

iT iS a uNiLaTeRaL fLeXiBiLiTy bEcAuSe tHe aRcHiTeCt iS cApAbLe tO dEsIgN a tHeAtEr oF fIlM sCeNeRy, tO mAkE aDvErTiSiNg gRaPhIcS oR eVeN pHoToGrApHy, Obviously, architects have opportunities for artistic development. So the perspective does not change, it mostly becomes a fusion between domains. Actually, it is a unilateral ﬂexibility 111

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because the architect is capable to design a theater of ﬁlm scenery, to make advertising graphics or even photography, while an artist cannot design architecture.

dC: more

Is theatre scenogrraphy fulﬁlling than architecture?

gA : There are two different types of professional accomplishments. The only comparison that can be made is regarding the time you invest – the architecture project can take a good period of time while stage design projects work faster, but they are also ephemeral. Satisfactions are high on both domains. dC: Was the shift from architecture to scenography hard to make?

gA : Although my colleagues find it difficult to switch from a domain to another, I do not find them strange at all. The fact that we have a much more applied way of thinking helps us in finding technical solutions and we can express them graphically and intelligibly much 112

faster. The digital programs are also very useful when it comes to details. Construction site experience can be applied in the theater workshops and patience and calamity are reserved for the theater director. Imagination can be exploited to the maximum without being obliged to wait for approvals and permits from the local authorities.

dC: in order produce

What steps do you follow to think, create and a successful design?

gA : There is a conceptual difference between architecture and set design. You must take in consideration that the décor must be detached and reassembled hundreds and hundreds of times, therefore it must be easy to store, easy to transport , assemble and dissassemble in a couple of hours.. First of all you must understand the needs of the director and to synthesize information very well. Then you must keep in mind the actors whom you

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those who don’t even care. Its like Art. must help and serve. It is essential to create trails and spaces, similar from the architectural functional schemes. This is where I start from. The actors must have multiple moving and stationary choices, possibilities for injury must be avoided. Otherwise, if you are lucky enough to beneﬁt from an advanced stage technology and a generous budget – sky is the limit. I must admit, I haven’t been lucky enough, but I am still at the beginning. With or without a consistent budget, in theater there is always a salvation: convention. Theatrical convention helps me in imagining and producing conceptual designs. Realistic designs are wonderful in theater but I prefer the ones that make me think as a spectator. Here, as everywhere there are trends and tendencies. I have detected that I have an inclination towards the abstract. There are people that understand and appreciate a visual concept and there are others that take the image itself, and ﬁnally there are

dC: Do you believe an architect is able to engage in a variety of artistic domains or does the technical nature of their profession represent an impediment in developing a more creative and artistic approach towards design? gA :I

believe that any architect has a vast artistic culture and a capacity or assimilation which helps them in ﬁnalising any sort of project. I believe that is how we are all trained, despite the countries where we studied. I do not believe that there exists a dedicated and passionate architect that doesn’t work to exhaustion. At least when you have your own practice you cannot afford to be

yOu mUsT tAkE iN cOnSiDeRaTiOn tHaT tHe dÉcOr mUsT bE dEtAcHeD aNd rEaSsEmBlEd hUnDrEdS aNd hUnDrEdS oF tImEs, tHeReFoRe iT mUsT bE eAsY tO sToRe, eAsY tO tRaNsPoRt , aSsEmBlE aNd dIsSaSsEmBlE iN a cOuPlE oF hOuRs. .

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