The Garage / Volume 1: Project by Patrick Brady

A garage represents itself as a place for innovation, a starting point, to collaborate freely upon new projects without the pressures of professional practices. It however, is more than a space; it is a mentality, a method of designing, experimenting, and exploring ideas without fear of failure. It’s a means to question all the bureaucratic shit suppressive in nature - remaining in a constant state of awareness. Existing as a suburban icon and scaled from the automobile, the garage offers grounds for the germination of ideas apprehensive to conventional thought processes. Design studios while spatial different from a garage capture its spiritual nature. Despite studios dynamic culture, students leave behind a legacy of ideas and projects, unpublished, as they’re tucked into closets and unseen portfolios. The Garage, a curated open source archive, aims to capture these forgotten ideas, publish them independently, while providing a platform for unprecedented collaboration. Comprised of physical and digital entities the Garage offers a canvas for the dispersion and expression of knowledge, ideas, and research. © Copyright 2014 The Garage: Volume 1 / Project All Rights Reserved to the Authors, their works, and their texts. www.openthegarage.net ____________________________________________________ Editor in Chief: Patrick Brady Guest Editor: Thomas McCormack ____________________________________________________ Contributors: Jeannine Brady / Patrick Brady / Richard Brown Stephen DeMayo / John Dickinson / Panharith Ean / Jim Gibbons / Erick Gonzalez / Justin Kearnan / Evanelos Kotsioris / Janet Lienau / Thomas McCormack / Emily Morgan / Derek Mueller / Le Nguyen / Ciro Podany / Reid Thibeault / Zenovia Toloudi Rebecca Lienau / Joseph Saporetti / You ____________________________________________________ Acknowledgements: Zenovia Toloudi / Thesis Lab / Marc Neveu / Jonathan Foote / Carol Burns / Panharith Ean / Ciro Podany / Stephen DeMayo / Jackie Mignome / Lora Kim / Michael Grogan / Kaitlyn Payne / JT White / Aaron Brady / Reid Thibeault / Alex Cabral

The Garage would like to give a special thanks to Zenovia Toloudi for her enthusiastic support, drive, and willingness to put up with us. You set fire beneath us provoking our curiosity to question everything, explore anything, and experiment endlessly. With out your guidance the Garage would not have been possible. -

Project is a publication curated by The Garage. It challenges the conventional nature of publications forcing itself into the public realm physically. It removes the individualized experience of reading projecting itself into a collective realm while prompting conversation. It is arranged chronologically left to right snaking from column to column, each divided by steel support cables. The structure appears minimalistic, camouflaged against the black wall behind forcefully drawing attention to the publication and all its content.

Contents

6 42.33557 Patrick Brady 7 An Illusion Patrick Brady 8 The Garage Thomas McCormack 9 Permission Optional Thomas McCormack 11 Abstract City Le Nguyen 12 Project: verb, Transitive Evangelos Kotsioris 15 [a]project[ion] Justin Kearnan 18 Born Ciro Podany 19 Dipole The Garage 20 Palms Reid Thibeault 42 The Space of Uncertainty Panharith Ean 46 Growing Youthful Le Nguyen 47 Still Le Nguyen 48 High Architecture and Education Erick Gonzalez 52 The Imperfect Emily Morgan 55 Transect John Dickinson 57 Transect: Butterfly Joint John Dickinson 58 Hurricane John Dickinson 59 Untitled Le Nguyen 60 The Balsams Janet Lienau 67 Lemington Jeannine Brady 71 Pursuit of Public Architecture Zenovia Toloudi 83 Identity of a Cloud Thomas McCormack 89 Printing Company Richard Brown 92 Performative Performance Jim Gibbons 95 Simultaneity Joe Saporetti 103 Festum Fatuorum Stephen DeMayo 110 Aural Definition Derek Mueller 113 42.33557 Patrick Brady 114 An Illusion Patrick Brady 115 Reflection You

42.33557

Patrick Brady

An Illusion

Patrick Brady

A Project is an illusion; a conventional frame for methods to be exploited. It exists standardized, often translating ideas without question. The transitive property of the term, projection, highlights ones assertion into the public realm, to democratize ones conjecture, to intentionally cast oneâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s own feelings, thoughts, or attitudes towards others. Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s actions fall into the hands of those who perceive, lost in translation, and reinterpreted through a lens of ignorant assumption. Designers, artist, and writers merely attempt to embed their aspirations into recognizable experiences both textual and representational as a means of projection. However despite intent, projects are recognized for their rendered finale with complete disregard for the metaphysical. A projection is then left stagnant in a field of ambiguity compelling its counter, reflection, to validate its provocation. Project without this validation is nothing more than a conjecture failing to aspirate.

The Garage

Thomas McCormack

Permission Optional

Thomas McCormack

Why must you always ask before you do something? This past few months of work have been a project of agency in many cases, we seek to take ownership of our education and the physical space in which it occurs. The hope is that more students will follow and enter into the realm of making the school their own. But it is the question of permission that can inhibit some from taking any action or even developing. The Garage acted akin to guerrillas, ambushing and hijacking spaces to place our work. When you enter the physical world and create a space you inherently engage in a dialogue with those that come across it. Our actions and intentions are essentially activist, we seek a change in mentality and a clearer identity of our school. To express our opposition we engaged the public sphere through writing, action, and events. When you bypass the administration you can begin to work on the margins more, no longer must you create the same conventional projects; no longer is it about a pretty picture. When people would ask if we had permission to paint the wall and we would respond â&#x20AC;&#x153;noâ&#x20AC;? their reactions concerned me. We would see expressions of slight disbelief (what were we thinking!) or thoughts of what punishment we may receive. But what a sad state we find an architecture school, when any student could ever remotely see such a simple act of changing a space as unthinkable. We hope whoever is reading this will take the time to put down their project and ask if it is truly a piece of architecture worth doing and if not pushes the boundaries

Permission Optional

Thomas McCormack

and goes searching for the edge. Poke a prod until you get a reaction, because until then you haven’t gone far enough, you haven’t found anything interesting to learn from. Robert Venturi once said that he didn’t want to talk about architecture, instead he said “I want to do architecture.” Why do you wait for permission, project prompts, and reviews. Go and make ideas real, not just on paper all the time but in physical space. This is a place of education, you are the student, it is made for YOU, so make it yours.

Abstract City

Le Nguyen

Materials:Wood Canvas, Acrylic Paint, Pastel, Charcoal Segment

Project: verb, transitive

Evangelos Kotsioris

3.1: cause (light, shadow, or an image) to fall on a surface.

Project: verb, transitive

Fantasmagorie de Robertson dans la Cour des Capucines en 1797 —Lejeune, after Etienne Gaspard Robertson, 1840, engraving, 13.6x22.1 cm From Etienne Gaspard Robertson, Mémoires Récréatifs, scientifiques et anecdotiques du physicien-aéronaute E. G. Robertson (Paris: Librairie Encyclopédique de Roret, 1840), vol. 1, frontispiece.

Evangelos Kotsioris

Project: verb, transitive

Evangelos Kotsioris

“[T]he Belgian Ettiene-Gaspard Robertson […] became known in the history of film for producing ghost projections that were more elegant and lifelike than Schröpfer’s. Robertson was able to accomplish this by placing his lantern magic on a wagon with large, lightweight and noiseless wheels, which could move around the room unnoticed like future film cameras. To magnify the illusion even more, Robertson particularly liked to appear in old cloisters […]. Instead of using electricity to dispense shocks from imaginary ghosts to superstitious spectators, like Schröpfer, or being frightened of the natural electricity of lightning […], Robertson electrified two simple carbon rods using a voltaic battery, which had just been invented. He then gradually pushed the carbon rods closer together and thus triggered a spark between them, which blinded all of the stunned spectators for several seconds until the carbon burned and the light was gone. The carbon arc lamp—the first artificial light source that could compete with sunlight or lightning and that consequently became essential for photography and film—was invented.” Friedrich Kittler, Optical Media (Cambridge, UK: Polity Press, 2010), 101.

[a]project[ion]

Justin Kearnan

Humans inherently hold the ability of thought, and use the act of thinking as the framework to hang all individual character, morals, understanding, knowledge and intellect. 15

[a]project[ion]

Justin Kearnan

The 17th century philosopher RenĂŠ Decartes is credited for the assertion that homosapiens are the only species that contain consciousness. Humans inherently hold the ability of thought, and use the act of thinking as the framework to hang all individual character, morals, understanding, knowledge and intellect. These qualities are intrinsically embedded in how people interact, how people speak, how people shake hands, how people kiss, how people communicate, how people project. To project [v.] is then defined as the manifestation, or the projection, of a personâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s thought. It is the communicative translation of the metaphysical act of thinking, to the tangibility of literal human action, the organization speech, or the creation of a physical product. People, and designers specifically, are charged with honing this elusive skill of manifesting their thinking, or their ideas, into this material product. This process becomes the project. A project [n.] is then defined as the product of the process, in its entirety, of translating thought into reality. Embedded in designerâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s projects are their attitudes, morals, character, understanding, knowledge and intellect. Their thinking, their thoughts, their ideas, are what shapes and manifests the process, and the product. Their project, is then in turn a projection of themselves. A piece, an extension, a demonstration, a manifestation of them that embodies their ideas, their thinking; simply, the project is them.

[a]project[ion]

Justin Kearnan

Embedded in designerâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s projects are their attitudes, morals, character; understanding, knowledge and intellect.

Ciro Podany

Born

Deep breaths lead to steep treads up and down the smoke of consciousness, reflective crystal caverns of knowledge un-needed, not wanted, spite ed by those that want all and see none. 18

The Garage / Patrick Brady

Dipole

Lifespan: 9.5 hours Cause of Death: Bureaucracy

Reid Thibeault

Palms

Thomas Sherborne pulled his glove on using his teeth and grabbed his suitcase from the passenger seat. He placed the case onto his lap and leaned over with his hand cupped, grooming the dog hair into a small ball off of the bottom cushion and dropped it onto the ground outside of his open door. The station stood behind him, a mass mixture of stone and brick. There was a frost hardening the dirt parking lot that remained quiet and tidy. His white truck contrasted the darkening soil but remained plain and unparticular with the roaring dam and river near by. He was early for a planned day trip. Mrs. Stroughson was his motherâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s childhood friend and her mare had welcomed an ill, chestnut filly to her farm. The concern had grown along with quizzical phone calls

Above Photo: The Author 20

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as to what ailments would worsen and which had in-home remedies. Thomasâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; ear was numb with the foal and decided it was time to take the trip south. As much as he felt he was only doing his mother the service of a respectful son, he was tired of vague, secondary descriptions. Mrs. Stroughson was at the age where her mind had begun to leave her and even if the foal was fine, Thomas thought it would be nice to see her, especially considering he was unsure that her health would hold until another visit. As Thomas walked through the heavy black wooden doors he felt the cool oily air rush to meet him. He had met Mrs. Stroughson annually as a boy when his father agreed to drive them to the fair. He remembered her truly among its large conglomerate being, the poison that no child could shake. It was a spell like Christmas that held individual value in all it enveloped, a youthful treasure. There wasnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t a summer venture so foreign to nature, all spinning metallic and the swarming lights. It was as magical as the moon, and the small parts in space he had claimed through a mail-in-order telescope. With such innocent association, Mrs. Stroughson seemed forever pleasant and happy in his memory. He glanced around as he waited, checking his watch in short increments. The watch face was tarnished and he used a handkerchief from his pocket to polish it. There was an old man whistling a melody that seemed to dance with the jangle of the keys at his hip. He wore a thick gold chain and mopped with an assembled rhythm. His uniform was pressed and he looked remarkably professional for a man

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of his duties. To the left of the custodian stood a couple bickering over the weather. Thomas found it amusing and sad as they disputed the previous night. They discussed dinner and their daughter. Thomas could hear the man saying a soldier was a fine fit for such a young lady while the woman disagreed and repeatedly stated that soldiers housed widows not wives. In the midst of political question there was a loyalty denounced to the public. Peacetime had become a dream state and common folks were skewed to news and its blunt descriptors of a nationally concerning time. Thomas agreed with the woman, having lost many customers and friends to the modern destruction of man. A phone was ringing in the background. As it stopped there was a short silence and a single slap as a young boy simultaneously leaned with most of his body out a window. He yelled to the attending mass from his closet like quarters. â&#x20AC;&#x153;News from Augusta, South Bound to Portland is 20 minutes behind schedule, boarding is to be adjusted accordingly!â&#x20AC;? he yelled attempting to make his voice deeper than it was. Thomas listened as he could feel the gleaming sun imposing through the great glass clock, the center of the hub, an elegant and well-crafted focal point. He could feel the heat on his neck and shoulders. The winter had begun its harsh descent from the mountains and Thomas was layered well in preparation for the fickle old station. The building was

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large and had been rumored to be arriving at the end of its days. There had been sketches for a more modern and efficient structure. There was also a strict group of locals that had fought the town to defend its remarkable history and craftsmanship. Although it was preserved well it had tendencies to only accelerate climates, becoming unbearably hot in the summer and near freezing after the welcoming of fall. Following a cool evening the station was beginning to warm and Thomasâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; woolen blazer was binding his own heat beneath his arms, enough to become a distraction. He blushed, noticing his own perspiration and put down his heavy suitcase of unopened mail. Assuming most was garbage he had brought all of it, increasing his odds of finding something worth reading on the train. He kept his coat and removed his blazer, folding it neatly. As he opened the case and placed it atop the disheveled mail he saw her. She was young, and worn beyond her small number of years. She had two bags. Her clothes were neat but outdated, something of her motherâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s generation, worn but still holding some remnant of class. She had approached them quietly and now stood in front of the older couple. Thomas observed the strange altercation as he remembered seeing her before by the womenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s bathroom. He listened as he saw her begin to speak. The station had reached an audible capacity. The bodies had begun their habitual shuffle, a song white and drowning. His pink-faced eves dropping had turned into a muddled investigation concerning what had begun to feel like a whispering

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competition beneath water. As he stood he drew his attention closer, frustrated with curiosity. She had asked them a question. He watched them turn from her, as if to seek some mild public privacy. As they spoke she reached for her bags, it seemed as though she was pacing through a familiar social casualty. The couple seemed at it again, wary in opinion, the man aggressing and the woman defending. The man put his hand in front the woman’s chest as to end the discussion and turned to the girl who was crouched shamefully releasing her bags. He delivered unhelpful news as she then definitively grasped her bags and walked back towards the women’s room. The leather on her shoes was worn beyond comfort and he wondered if she could have been selling something. It didn’t seem clear though as she lacked product and the poise of a saleswoman. “Directions,” he said under his breath. They must have not known, or argued as old couples do about trivial things. Neither he nor his wife could be correct and decided that their advices were of little use to her, turning her away. She was graciously sinking into the wall and Thomas had ignited his slumber deciding that he was the help she needed. He was half way through a new cigarette. He pulled hard, quickly filling his lungs and dropped the cigarette to his heel and kicked it out next to his suitcase. He walked up to her informatively and confident.

Reid Thibeault

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“So where is it you’re looking to go?” he said. She didn’t respond and continued to look downwards. He was a few yards away when he asked and she had not known he was addressing her. “Mam, I believe I might be able to help you. Where were you looking to head?” he offered again. As he asked she slowly turned around and he noticed the size of her stomach. Earlier he had tried to be somewhat courteous and not stare. She had her back to him before and he took little notice of anything other than her shoes and bags between glances. She had to have been eight months pregnant and he became even more inquisitive. “I’m alright sir, thank you,” she said. “I mean no disrespect mam, but you looked as though you might have had some sort of question that they couldn’t help you with. I know the area well, I travel often,” he said. “A misunderstanding sir. I’m fine,” she said. He was wading deeper, observing, slightly insulted and stubborn. He looked at her arms; they were pale, milky and reflective in the sun. She should have had a better jacket and a proper scarf. The skin on her neck was irritated and she needed to cut her fingernails. He looked at her hand as it scratched the red patches draping her collarbone and he noticed she had no ring. She had transformed and become

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complex, layered with textures. His confidence retreated to his stomach and he blushed. He became defensive, victimizing himself into his own intrusive exploration. A mere extension of local hospitality had fallen silent. He could feel his concern heavily hang from his brow. He now understood the couple’s dilemma. Her question was unrepeated and salvaged from the possibility to be denied more politely. He was still holding his suitcase and he put it down adjusting his blazer so it wouldn’t touch the floor. Thomas had only ever loved four women. He had shared a bed with more but they never sold him on the idea of waiting to find anything interesting. He had maintained a focus throughout his life that left women to become night vessels, quick trips beneath the darker skies. He had met his wife later in life. She was different in the idea that she appreciated his independence, as she only wanted the same. They shared a common self-inflicted lonesomeness that enabled them to think beyond themselves. He loved his wife as his partner, and as company but all together had never gained the ability to swoon or persuade her. He lacked a traditional charm and only managed to gain relationships with his overall content and honesty. He had surpassed his welcome and they remained dully introduced. He began to submit all small talk adequacies delivering them emptily into the human humming that surrounded them. “So are you originally from here?” he said.

Reid Thibeault

Palms

He was trying to devise a shallow attempt into some sort of exchange. She remained quiet now looking at him. Her eye contact drove any and all ego to his small gaping pores in the form of pale worry, inducing a cold sweat, and pardoning any over active hand gestures. He told himself over and over to let his mind relieve his body. He hated being uncomfortable in public. She had crippled him, folding his spirit effortlessly. “New York,” she said. “Fantastic! I love New York. I’ve only been there once and it was for a short time, but I’ll never forget its size, a strangely abandoning place,” he said. He was swimming through an odd bout with immaturity wanting to walk away and leave the misunderstanding aloof. He could feel everyone watching him fumble through the situation. His words were sloppy.Yet she stood there, letting Thomas entertain her. The young woman had relinquished her vulnerability in exchange for his, providing an improv skit for the audience wondering about the both of them. “Join me outside for a cigarette?” he said unaware of the faux pas directly protruding in front of him. “I’m pregnant,” she said. She was shameless and ordinary, stating facts with morals in suit. She spoke like a woman and he still so much a perturbed adolescent.

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“Well a breath of fresh air it is, please. Join me,” he said. It was his only way out. He couldn’t leave her. He proposed the idea, as it was either his underlying interrogation for answers or the last of his feasible requests. It came as a cheap excuse in a high stakes gamble, the pressure of peers and of his luggage, the time, the heat, and mainly the distant normality of it all. He was conversational soldier flying an ivory flag, shamelessly retreating. She followed him. Less apprehensively than the onlookers had predicted. She remained proud and less wary than she once was. Solicitation they thought. The fog was beginning to clear, taking its blanket from the sea. There was relief in the soundlessness of voices and the morning had become bright and brilliant among the far western mountains. “The cold never rears itself, you know?” he said holding the door for her. “I haven’t been here long but yes, I understand,” she said. They were standing at the tailgate of his truck now and his words escaped his stomach, “What’s wrong?” he said. “I need to find a hospital,” she said. He didn’t ask because he knew the circumstance existed

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among a small market acceptable by the public. “30 miles. It’s 30 miles to the nearest hospital. When are you due?” he asked. “Soon,” she said. “Do you need a ride?” as he felt himself become human again. “No,” she said. Her voice was willful. “I can give you a ride, my trip today can be done tomorrow.Your situation is pressing and if it’s only a ride, you’re not putting me out,” he stated. “It probably wont be for a couple days,” she said. “Well you can stay with me until you come into labor and I’ll bring you to the hospital,” he said. His gesture was genuine and she was taken back by his hospitality. He had thought of his wife, once too a young girl. He would have wanted the same for her in the circumstance and for the first time since meeting the young woman he felt as though his words were chosen wisely. She looked at him knowing any other option was less guaranteed. Her risk was higher without a place to sleep and decided to indulge Thomas’ wishes. “Alright,” she said.

Reid Thibeault

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They had become decisive. The plan was loosely plotted but held a comfort similar to seeing holiday bound relatives. She was less temporary yet fixed in his mindset with his aunts and uncles speaking French and drinking too much wine. The idea excited him and he smiled. He had never played a roll in an infant’s life. His nephew was two when he finally had the money to visit him and before that he was only subjected to one-way phone conversations with distant cries, sounds of neediness or a rare squeal of delight. He unlocked the door and moved his atlas closer to the driver’s side of the cab. He walked around to her side of the truck to help her; politely assuming she needed it. She had her hand on top of her stomach. He watched her through the windshield unable now to corral his eyes. As she climbed up and into the truck he noticed her face seemed more lonesome now than before. The remnants of panic had vanished and all relaxation that was left in her escaped with a deep sigh. She was hungry and upset, tired of keeping her posture. “How far away do you live?” she said as he climbed into the truck. “Not far, up past a small harbor. It’s about 25 minutes,” he said. “Oh,” she said as she wondered how long the walk would

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take. “Do you have a name picked out?” he asked with no response. Finally alone Thomas relinquished all ability to dishearten his curiosity. The small cab of the truck had become layered with sound. They spoke over the radio that was turned down to whispers while the small leak in Thomas’ exhaust manifold skipped over broken pavement. She was quiet even inside the truck. He wanted to know what she was thinking. “I won’t hurt you. I’m not crazy or anything,” he said. “I know,” she said somehow believably. As they rode in the truck, Thomas showed her all noteworthy and personally preferred views and landmarks. He told her about the tides and the ocean and how the year’s harvest had gone. He could hear her quietly singing the song on the radio. He didn’t know it but felt good that she had one thing of all that was familiar. As they pulled off of the last twisting road and onto his long dirt driveway, he rolled down his window. A brief smile rose upon his face. “Who sings this?” he asked. “Are those yours?” she said pointing toward the horses

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still singing softly. “Yes, they’re mine. Always had a weak spot for them. I could never dream up an animal like that and I think that’s why they get me. My grandfather had draft horses. I suppose that’s where it started. He was an Irishman in a long line of blacksmiths. I guess you could say I’ve been taught to mind them,” he said. “They’re beautiful,” she said and nodded as she continued to sing. He couldn’t make out what the words were but the melody was playful and it made the view of his house warm. “So what do you do,” she said as they pulled into the groomed and dying grass beside the stairs to his porch. “I’m a carpenter,” he said. “Why would a carpenter wear his church clothes to the train station on a Wednesday?” she asked. He was embarrassed by the thought of church clothes, they sounded boyish. “Actually, I was headed south to check out a foal. My mother’s friend has been calling me daily asking me poorly worded questions about his health,” he said.

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“What’s his name?” she asked slowly peering out her window as the truck turned off. “Marlow, she named him Marlow. A family name I believe,” he said. “How long have you lived here?” she asked. “It’s been about six years since I bought the land and started to build. Doesn’t seem like that long though.” Her questions were honest and youthful. Thomas enjoyed them because it gave him something to say. She walked up and into his house in front of him. She held the unlocked door slightly and began to inspect his walls, the pictures and his furniture. She sat down on his sofa and tested its firmness. “Would you like to rest?” he asked closing the door behind him. “Only a bath would be better,” she said. “Of course,” he said turning and walking towards the bathroom. He whistled to the dogs and let them outside, ensuring they wouldn’t be a bother.

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He suited her with all her needs and made her a bed on the couch while she bathed. He was rushing and there was little neatness to his spare blankets. He looked around and grabbed his ashtray to empty and hide it, feeling slightly guilty once again. She had taken an hour or more and Thomas had been sitting on his porch through two cigarettes. He was wary and casting his thoughts with each drag wondering what his wife would think. He heard the girl address the dog outside as she laid herself down on the couch. He could see her through the doorâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s window and went back inside the house. He asked her if she needed anything and told her about the hospital, about how he knew one of the doctors and how it was a fine, trusted institution. She fell asleep quickly. It was just before noon and slept through the night. He had gotten up repeatedly to check on her despite the complete lack of movement in the house. She had created a museum and as she lay there, still pale, he was able to see his home differently. She was as beautiful as a pearl necklace that subsides all the glory of a finely fitted dress, the free cocktail that only becomes better tasting and the man who can retell strangersâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; stories to all their capacity and more. She was a rarity. She was magnificent. He had passed his ripeness and women had all together begun to lose their polish. Yet there she was, still nameless but all together again a beautiful girl and only that, a girl. The bath had found her age and the sleep had rid her of many wonders.

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He began to pity her. He thought back to himself at that age, still profoundly self indulgent and adventurous, amused all together by the stars and the smell of a womanâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s shoulders. He remembered falling in love foolishly and leaving home for the first time without his parents permission. He hated what she had done, ruining her purity, a true gift of life spoiling her, expiring a freedom only dreamscapes and rebellion could fuel. He thought for a long time, constantly contradicting himself, wondering how old she actually could have been, and that maybe he was wrong. He wanted to believe that maybe she had aged well and the situation was quite planned and steady. It was too cold to go out on the porch at night so he fixed himself a drink and went to sit in the bathroom to smoke another cigarette. He gazed at the porcelain around him glowing in the night. He wondered how she must have been so unlucky, finished his cigarette, brushed his teeth quietly, and went to bed. He smelled her cooking breakfast as he came down stairs. He was impressed with her immediate comfort and asked about her rest. She told him about the strange cravings and how bologna, cheese, and mustard had somehow taken over her biggest desires. She also ate ice. Thomas found the ice peculiar. All day she went back and forth from the freezer numbing her mouth. They went for a short walk outside on their second day. Thomas told her about his wife, Nora, and how she was still in love with many things in her early, gray years. She had been out of town with her sister on a hiking trip. He

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told the girl that Nora would love to meet her. His efforts to continually build a sexual boundary were healthy, despite the girlâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s absence of attraction. He found it strange that the girl never mentioned her own name. It was an odd outlying privacy, a web that was spun delicately around their air. He hadnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t slept well. His mind had raced with morals and he had felt shell-shocked lying in the darkness by the events passed. It was sunny and he had trouble seeing clearly. He was becoming irritated and less thoughtful with his words. As they walked along the shaded edge of the pasture he told her the names of the horses and where he got them. She seemed interested and cataloged the names out loud as he told them to her. When they stopped outside the barn close to the house again he looked at her. Like the night before, he allowed her to take his ordinary bindings and shed them as if old skin. The day became less intrusive and he listened to her hum. She had eyes all so different. They were iridescent bulbs, gray in the light. He found himself rediscovering her small physical secrets. The rash from the station was less aggressive and he stole sights of a small birthmark on the inside of her arm that was a murky purple. It was a distant, intimate inquiry, one he would let himself partake in. He let her fasten the two days, making them seem like a small photo album of distant familiarities, one he could finish looking at and start all over, still surprised by each page. They were quiet for a long time and eventually walked

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back into the house. Thomas mentioned the returning pain in his head and that they both should rest. She lay on the couch and he sat with her until she dozed off. Once she was asleep, he got up and went into the kitchen. He looked through an old hutch where Nora kept her contact information. He grabbed a pen and wrote down his sister in-lawâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s number. He had decided that when he woke up, he would call a few times and see if he could reach anyone. He wanted to let them know how the past few days had taken a turn, and acquire any advices concerning parts of womanâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s life that he had no experience with. He found the book and recorded the number on the back of newspaper clipping. He put it next to the sink and went upstairs. Thomas took off only his shoes and laid down slowly. He stared at his ceiling for short time before falling asleep. His rest was patchy and in the second hour he heard the screams. He panicked and ran downstairs barefoot and slightly sweaty from the warmth of his bed. She was outside the bathroom on the floor holding the bottom of her stomach breathing heavily. Without words they maintained a seemingly professional relationship. He went to the kitchen for gloves but in his panic could not find any. She was worried and in pain. Her screams insisted he do something. It was quick and she had felt safe. She had helped herself up somehow and returned to the couch.

Reid Thibeault

Palms

The door had been shut behind him for fifteen minutes. He was looking into the mirror and his hands were painted a lush, burgundy rouge. The porcelain wasn’t white, the chrome had no reflection and the tiles were paled. He reached for the soap and began to wash his hands for the third time as if all her innocence was now a part of him. He wanted to give back, to salvage the water. Instead it continued down the drain with mysterious motive, sifting and recycling back into the ground. He scraped at his palms like they were coated in thin cement. He threw water onto his face repeatedly trying to break his flush until he looked into the mirror and felt a striking repulsion to his vanity. As he left his wash station he found her barely awake wrapped in the same blankets she once slept in. He had pulled a drawer out of a small dresser and used it as a nest, packing it with soft towels and old shirts before placing it atop the table. The baby was asleep so he walked back and peeked over the couch as he entered the living room. “Thank you,” she said softly. “I don’t really know what happened,” Thomas said. “It was the blazer.You said Uncle Charlie, that he was a veterinarian. That you remembered. The horse. Fine hobby for a carpenter,” she said slowly. Her sentences were drawn out along her exhaustion and she didn’t make much sense. Thomas was confused

Palms

Reid Thibeault

but pleased with the slight sense of safety. He felt the immediate need to inspect the infant. He went into the kitchen again and hung his body over the drawer. It was small and plush like a new toy, velvet to the eyes. He stared at the child, fearful to touch it. He wrapped more towels around it, making sufficient, portable warmth and gently pulled it up and into his chest. He walked slowly into the living room diligently placing each step. She was asleep now and Thomas was hesitant to wake her. For a moment he stood there with the child, only knowing his own name. After a moment, he returned the baby to the table and began to clean up the remainder of their efforts. It hadnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t been the war scene he imagined in the bathroom and he was done quickly. He fixed himself drinks sitting at the kitchen table until the day left the floor through the window and everything on the walls had small, skewed shadows. He only stood up to turn the stove light on and go to the bathroom, all the while keeping the child in sight to the best of his ability. His bottle was gone and Thomas left his last drink half finished as he placed his head down onto the table, an honorary guard, asleep once again. He woke without opening his eyes. He could hear the birds in and out of his uncomfortable morning restlessness. He wanted water and rose finally after the sunrise as the baby began to cry in hunger. Thomas got up to wake the girl. He grabbed his glass of water, drinking it completely at the sink and refilling it. He walked back past the child and hushed it playfully in fear of it waking its mother before he did. The blankets, still stained, were folded neatly into pile

Reid Thibeault

Palms

on the couch. He walked to the front door and looked out amongst the field and the long drive way. Her shoes were missing from where she left them near the hearth. The morning was bright and the fog once again was sheet-like and retreating. The phone rang and he went back into the kitchen looking into the empty bathroom. The house had found its old way and was quiet against the ringing. He listened in between the tones to hear nothing upstairs. He didn’t call out to her. He stood staring at the phone and finally answered to a bewildered Mrs. Stroughson. She sounded old and indifferent to his lost beauty. “Thomas Sherbourne,” he said into the phone. “Yeah Tom, is that you? You don’t need to come,” she informatively stated. “Mrs. Stroughson, I meant to call. I got caught up at…” he said before she cut him off. “Marlow died this morning. Found him dead in the stall,” she finished. “Christ, Donna, I’m sorry,” he said void of emotion and formality. “You should still come down, I’ll need help burying him,” she said.

Reid Thibeault

Palms

“Christ, Donna, I’m sorry,” he said void of emotion and formality. “You should still come down, I’ll need help burying him,” she said. “Of course.”

The Space of Uncertainty

Panharith Ean

There is a strong attachment of human’s needs and desires to architecture. It is because architecture, in its core, is a manifestation that responds to this unfulfilling demand. Architecture first presents disguises itself as a metaphysical idea: a vision, a conceptual solution to pragmatic issue, an intangible material property. It will then be formalized, translating from an idea to a built form. This linear process from idea to form shows cla-ity and assurance, which is adapted by many cultures as methodology for practicing architecture. It creates the urge to solve problems –almost a desperation to satisfies Lancanian theory of “Lack”. Architecture as a tangible form becomes fetishized as the definite answer, the final form, the finish product. When a building is finished, its form is apparent and permanent, and its metaphysical quality will soon be forgotten. People glorify the built form and slowly erase the traces of preceding dialogue. Louis Kahn argues “a great building must begin with the unmeasurable, must go through measurable means when it is being designed and in the end must be unmeasurable”. It is often the last part of this theory that has been disregarded.

The Space of Uncertainty

Panharith Ean

Architecture as a tangible form becomes fetishized . . . People glorify the built form and slowly erase the traces of preceding dialogue.

The Space of Uncertainty

Panharith Ean

How can a building be unmeasurable in the end? Instead of trying to solve problems or answering questions, wouldnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t it be more provocative to reframe the problems and ask questions, not for an answer but to wonder around the possibilities of other questions? Then â&#x20AC;&#x201C;perhaps, form can be a vehicle that carries this dialogue instead of being an absolute, ambiguous instead of definite. Maybe this can obscure the linearity from idea to form, alternatively treating metaphysical and physical as interchangeable components, which are both equally parts of the design throughout every phase.

Installation Created by: Panharith Ean and Pablo Rivera

The Space of Uncertainty

Installation Created by: Panharith Ean and Pablo Rivera

Panharith Ean

Growing Youthful

Le Nguyen

NYC May 2012, Digital 46

Still

Le Nguyen

Letâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s be still together. Un-moving. Lasting. Free from disturbance. Or caught in eventually, nevertheless . . . Until we become a still-life picture that is instilled in our memory. Or perhaps like a stillborn; Deadbefore it even came to be. 47

High Architecture and Education

High Architecture Overlay:s NYC, Bejing, Dubai, Shenzhen

Erick Gonzalez

High Architecture and Education

Erick Gonzalez

Upon reflecting on my current research and thesis regarding favelas Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ve come to question what is taught in the architectural classroom and the implications of its educational methods. Most of what is taught inside history classrooms and studios alike fetishizes high architecture, a term branding elitism, where aesthetics are valued more than utilitarian functions and cultural trends. These works include those from ancient civilizations like the Parthenon, Pantheon, and Coliseum up to the work of great modernist architects like Gropius, Mies, and Le Corbusier - all works recognized for their inherent novelty. More recently though I have wondered why little attention is given to vernacular architecture, which appears contradictory to forms of high architecture. The vernacular is based on the humanitarian functions of working and living and is structured within the context of its environment. Extraordinary examples of the vernacular include some of the most visually striking images of urbanism in third world countries. Favelas, barrios, and gecekondu are examples of theses conditions. It is in these striking images and profound moments that I question why there is limited education and discussion about such tragic human living conditions and specifically what does this mean for the future city in the rapidly developing nations of the Asia, South America, and Africa? The developed world has reached a saturation point where growth has plateaued. This plateau implies reflection where â&#x20AC;&#x153;greenâ&#x20AC;? architecture combats infrastructural wastelands, cities, as architects wonder if the skyscrapers are a valid

High Architecture and Education

Erick Gonzalez

typological solution to populous concerns of density. On the contrary it is in the developing world where there is rapid urbanization and population growth that new forms of city development and urbanization are being fostered - China and Dubai stand as such examples. It is in these countries where you can find examples of high architecture that have no regard to local and cultural customs. When you observe a sea of glass towers built upon a desert, questions arise whether these building typologies are appropriate responses to their surrounding desert environment. Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s within this question that I wonder why the vernacular isnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t embraced unconditionally as new cities appear to foster the typologies of their contextually distant elders like New York City. By no means do I advocate the extreme living conditions of the favela and other informal settlements as a basis for new cities but instead wonder if there can be other ways in which construction maybe influenced by the local building traditions and environmental contexts. This extends to the education of architecture where the vernacular is paid little attention in the curriculum and as such a conclusion can be reached that the development of new mundane cities tied to aesthesis are a resultant of an education focused on selfimagery and ego inflation.

When you observe a sea of glass towers built upon a desert, questions arises whether these building typologies are appropriate responses to their surrounding desert environment.

The Imperfect

Emily Morgan

Wabi-Sabi represents itself as the most prominent model for traditional Japanese beauty as related to nature. It nurtures all that is authentic while acknowledging three beliefs: nothing lasts, nothing is finished, and nothing is perfect. These beliefs attempt to reveal beauty through materials and the methods by which they are worked while acknowledging their imperfections. During this process materials begin to develop a life of their own as form is no longer derived from symbolic connections but instead the materialâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s natural properties. Further works grounded by Wabi-Sabi beliefs disregard dissemination while glorifying simplicity. The ideas captured by the term imperfect, inspired me for the design of a handcrafted object. Following the creation of this object came a personified cry to be held. A container answers this cry generating space around the object while fulfilling the necessity for containment. This process provides a linear translation for the creation of architectural spaces derived from objects and further the imperfect.

The Imperfect

Emily Morgan

Following the creation of this object came a personified cry to be held.

The Imperfect

Emily Morgan

Materiels: Concrete, Steel Rods, Plexi, Plaster

Transect

John Dickinson

Materiels: Cherry, Soft Maple, Reclaimed Cherry beam

The Imperfect

Emily Morgan

Using clay and plaster I started to create an object derived from these concepts. Questioning what the object could be I stumbled upon the function of a cup. A cup has two purposes, to be held and to hold a liquid. These two roles and the properties of the material informed the cup. Knowing clays malleability I folded it into my hands creating a mold for which plaster could be poured generating a cup. The plaster highlights the imperfections left on the clay - minor scrapes; bruises created by my hands. As liquid plaster was poured the mold became unpredictable and not easily controlled, as the clay remained malleable responding to the weight of the plaster. After the plaster set, pealing away the clay revealed the cups form while referencing the interior imperfections of the clay as mirrored on the plasters outer surface. This process was thought out, designed, and further projected but the imperfections and unique qualities of the cup were unprecedented giving it purpose. The form of the cup has two characteristics, on one side a heavy handle and the other a thin depression for liquid, both aspects specifically unplanned yet somehow a play on the cups duality to be held and to hold. The box, or container, for the cup sought to mimic these qualities of light and heavy. Understanding the box as two forms with the potential to fit within each other while holding the cup, one side was constructed from plexi offering a view into the box while the other was made from concrete. The unplanned nature and imperfect qualities of material and process provide incite into the understanding of beauty while inspiring a authentic yet simplistic design method.

Transect: Butterfly Joint

Materials: Cherry, Soft Maple, Reclaimed Cherry beam

John Dickinson

Hurricane

John Dickinson

Materiels: Cherry, Ash, Lazy Suzan Bearing

Le Nguyen

Untitled

Wood Canvas, Architecture board, Pastel, Acrylic paint

The Balsams

Janet Lienau

My skis bit into the fresh snow with each step, pulling me up the slopes. It never seemed this steep when we were racing down it in years past. My breath falls out of me in foggy clouds. Each turn will be well earned. Who would have thought that? Two years ago I took this mountain for granted. I expected it to always be there, to always be open. The rumors of it closing had been whispered for years, so much so that I took them to be no more than myths. I thought The Balsams would always be there. I never thought that things would change. Located in Dixville Notch, NH, The Balsams has been and always will be a mountain run through the dedication and love of the community. Coming from a small northern town of only two hundred people, I and so many of the other Balsams kids have always felt as though this mountain was a second home. The mountain was a place where you could find love and support from the tightknit group of people skiing there, but it was also a place of jobs. The area is slowly becoming a ghost town. With factories and companies slowly going out of business, the people became reliant on the ski area. It became the top employer for my friends and their families. Everything seemed okay, people had jobs and income. And then it got shut down. Families built their lives around this mountain and, in the blink of an eye, it was gone. Everything looked so different on the way up. But if I

Janet Lienau

The Balsams

Top Photo: The Balsamâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Kids Bottom Photo: Janet Lienau

The Balsams

Janet Lienau

stopped for a second and took a deep breath, I could see it all: the groomed trails, the fresh turns, the smiles. Hours and hours, turns and turns, the slopes of that mountain consumed so much of my childhood. Sanguinary was always the best trail: steep, with lots of quick turns and bumps to soar over. Plus, it was right underneath the chairlift so people would see us ski by. It made us feel cool. I couldnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t stop smiling. Every step, every pole plant, brought a new memory. We climbed closer and closer to the top. I was with two of my brothers who had been there with me through every turn as we grew up. We might not have all been related, but those boys I skied with every weekend are my siblings. I was always the younger sister rushing to keep up with them. This day was no different. I could hear them clinking their poles, cheering me on, as I came up over the last knoll. We stared out at the world we grew up in, the trails we knew so well pouring down to a single forgotten chairlift. Every turn we were about to make was an echo of so many before. This mountain gave me many friends that will last a lifetime, an excitement filling my childhood, appreciation for a small area, and my first job. The problem is, I never realized just how much the Balsams gave me until it was gone. Donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t get me wrong, the mountain is still there, and the trails still skiable, though a bit overgrown. But it is quiet. There is no hum of the chairlift, no swish and skid of skis turning, no laughter. The silence is what is most sad about

The Balsams

Janet Lienau

this place. It is empty, my forlorn mountain I remember pulling into the parking lot and running into friends every step of the way. I remember the feeling of being surrounded by snowflakes and love. Everything that mountain gave me, everything I learned, is generational. I am not the first of the Balsams kids and I hope that I am not one of the last. The ski area gave me friends that I otherwise may never have known. I had always been so shy, but there was something within the magic of the ski lodge, something that created within me a confidence I had never experienced elsewhere. It showed me the person that I could be, if I just took a chance and put myself out there. It gave me the opportunity to move beyond my comfort zone and when I took it, I was forever changed. I felt the joy, the strength that is now embedded within my fingerprints. My skiing, though it has progressed, has its roots on the face of The Balsams. I learned how to telemark there, one of the most important and therapeutic skills I have ever found. It taught me the truth behind East coast skiing. We never had to wait in line, lapping the mountain throughout the day. We could ski from nine until closing without a thought towards our tired legs. It did not matter if we had a group of two or twelve, we were there to ski and have fun. The hours we spent on the slopes were broken up by hot chocolate and games of spoons. The instructorâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s lounge, which always carried the smell of old plastic and feet, became our hang out. The floor was sticky with old hot chocolate and ski wax. Today, if

The Balsams

Janet Lienau

you walked into that old lounge, there would be no Cat Empire blaring out of the old computer speakers, no Ryan Reynolds picture tacked up in the corner, no chili quickly cooling on the coffee table. The dryer in the back that never worked but always emitted the strong smell of burning hair and shocked you whenever you touched it, would still be there. But everything else, all the jokes, the constant clomping of ski boot footsteps, all of that would be echoes, cleared away by management and workers. The Balsams is where it all began for our group. Although the mountain has closed, the friendships we made have not been forgotten. We no longer need the excuse of skiing to get together for a mug of hot chocolate or a game of spoons. Each person I grew up with there has affected me, challenged me, and has held me up when my world fell down. The mountain joined us. Our common interest kept us close. But it is the resilience we have found through the years that has kept us together. I look at the two guys who have been there with me through it all. Though we would have been close with or without The Balsams because of the interconnectedness of our families, we would not have been as close as we are. We spent every single day-lit moment of our weekends during the winter together at that mountain. Tapping their poles together, they start down the trail. They follow each other turn for turn. Their skiing styles, tight turns against the edge of the trail, is a true Balsams style.

The Balsams

Janet Lienau

They try to find the patches of powder on the sides of Coos. I follow them, taking a line down the middle of the trail. I create fresh tracks with every turn. The snow fluffed up against my face, poofs of fresh air floating into my lungs. My skis crunch into the base as I lean into my turn. I can feel the heat of my muscles working to move me down the mountain, my calves twisting in my boots as I shift feet. Looking out on the trail ahead of me, I can see every line available, every opportunity I can take. All I have to do was find the one that was made for my turns and fall into it. I look left, but turn my skis right, falling into the line before me. Bump, bump, bump, the snow flips over my skis, blending together the green and purple top sheet. I feel a pull, a snow snake reaching out to take my ski out of position. My legs automatically shift, so natural, so instinctual. I donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t even have to consider what I was doing. Faster and faster, I reach the steepest section, my knees were burning but I continue. I can feel the tracks of skiers past turning around me, the whoops of pure joy, hours of dancing under the falling snowflakes float through my mind. The Balsams will always be there. Even if it must be hiked, the memories we have created will always be waiting. The essence of that mountain does not have to be found with the lift running or the parking lot full. It has become a part of each person who grew up there, who skied there. The friendships we made, the family we found, and the love we shared brought us together and made us inseparable. We

Janet Lienau

The Balsams

are all hopeful that the mountain will reopen some day and I will be first in line, with smiles, tears, and excitement. We reach the bottom of our run, legs tired and smiles on our faces. That is one thing that has not changed about this place. The mountain still has the ability to bring happiness and give us a spectacular run. The three of us stand at the bottom of this fantastic place that was the backdrop for so much of our childhood. We look up at the mountain, at our fresh tracks and none of us can stop smiling. We are home.

Above Photo: Lower trail head of Sanguinary

Lemington

Jeannine Brady

Living and working in northern Vermont has tremendous benefits and challenges for those of us who choose to live here. Each day we face frost heaves, ever-changing weather conditions, long commutes to basic amenities, low pay rates and high energy costs, not to mention isolation from cultural events and functions. Many would ask, “Why stay?” I look out my living room window and view the Connecticut River twisting and turning, making its way to Long Island Sound. Bald eagles drive into its waters and pull out trout, deer gather in the field behind my house, foxes raise their kits in the hill right next to the road, and my children run and play in the yard without fences to block them in. My husband works the land and harvests its bounty each fall. His days are spent plowing, harrowing, planting, chopping, tedding, haying, spreading, and harvesting...long, tedious days working the fields on the farm. His weather beaten face shows his days in the elements, the sun, the wind, and bitter cold. He doesn’t complain though because it is what he does. It is what he’s done all his life. He gets great joy from watching his corn grow from seedlings to stalks that tower over his head. He comes home smelling of manure, a mixture of diesel, and freshly cut hay. At night, he has no trouble falling asleep because he is physically exhausted and ready for a night’s rest, a rest he deserves for working so hard. We know our neighbors and their children. In fact, we

Lemington

Jeannine Brady

know nearly everyone we meet and when someone new is seen in town, everyone wants to know who they are and what they areLiving and working in northern Vermont has tremendous benefits and challenges for those of us who choose to live here. Each day we face frost heaves, ever-changing weather conditions, long commutes to basic amenities, low pay rates and high energy costs, not to mention isolation from cultural events and functions. Many would ask, “Why stay?” I look out my living room window and view the Connecticut River twisting and turning, making its way to Long Island Sound. Bald eagles drive into its waters and pull out trout, deer gather in the field behind my house, foxes raise their kits in the hill right next to the road, and my children run and play in the yard without fences to block them in. My husband works the land and harvests its bounty each fall. His days are spent plowing, harrowing, planting, chopping, tedding, haying, spreading, and harvesting...long, tedious days working the fields on the farm. His weather beaten face shows his days in the elements, the sun, the wind, and bitter cold. He doesn’t complain though because it is what he does. It is what he’s done all his life. He gets great joy from watching his corn grow from seedlings to stalks that tower over his head. He comes home smelling of manure, a mixture of diesel, and freshly cut hay. At night, he has no trouble falling asleep because he is physically exhausted and ready for a night’s rest, a rest he deserves

Lemington

Jeannine Brady

for working so hard. We know our neighbors and their children. In fact, we know nearly everyone we meet and when someone new is seen in town, everyone wants to know who they are and what they are doing here. When someone gets sick, neighbors and friends make casseroles and drop them at their doorstep until they get well. If the neighbor’s child misses the bus, it’s okay to pick him up and take him home. We celebrate the joy of new babies and the sadness of death. We know his father’s uncle’s brother and her grandmother’s sister’s daughter, and who they married and what they do for a living. We know where to go to get our tires rotated and get the schedule for the men’s softball league. We live here because we are Vermonters and being a Vermonter means the challenges we face build character. It is our right to suffer and go without, and we can use it to make others admire our tenacity and determination. So, don’t feel sorry for us or complain about our roads, just pour our maple syrup on your pancakes and enjoy the fact we work hard making it! doing here. When someone gets sick, neighbors and friends make casseroles and drop them at their doorstep until they get well. If the neighbor’s child misses the bus, it’s okay to pick him up and take him home. We celebrate the joy of new babies and the sadness of death. We know his father’s uncle’s brother and her grandmother’s sister’s daughter, and who they married and what they do for a living. We know where to go to get our

Jeannine Brady

Lemington

tires rotated and get the schedule for the menâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s softball league. We live here because we are Vermonters and being a Vermonter means the challenges we face build character. It is our right to suffer and go without, and we can use it to make others admire our tenacity and determination. So, donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t feel sorry for us or complain about our roads, just pour our maple syrup on your pancakes and enjoy the fact we work hard making it!

Above Photo: Front Porch View 70

In Pursuit of Public Architecture

Top Photo:The Y Bottom Photo: Act III

Zenovia Toloudi

In Pursuit of Public Architecture

Zenovia Toloudi

Nowadays people come together in web domains and social media. Ubiquitous computing, surveillance, communication via digital technologies and gadgets, wireless infrastructures are new channels, that further increase connectivity among people who, as Joi Ito said, now care more for the commons. Where is the public? Where is the city? From one hand there are intangible global connections (new public), and from the other hand the physical world and the living people (new city and its citizens). The fluctuations among those notions request for new communication interfaces, new terrains for unpredictable activities where the citizen becomes an active participant. Can architecture provide these opportunities for responsive design, ephemeral interventions, and participatory events? Can these co-current happenings and collective experiences serve the commons? Architectural education may be an open terrain where design-research can tackle some of the aforementioned questions. The last years I have been teaching thesis with graduate students in the Department of Architecture at Wentworth Institute of Technology (WIT). The model for thesis at WIT is accomplished within two courses that occupy two semesters: the seminar and the studio. This one-year experiment is both an opportunity for the students to focus on a topic of their choice and to demonstrate their virtuosic research-and-design ability.

In Pursuit of Public Architecture

Zenovia Toloudi

Within the above framework I had developed two sequential courses: the Protheses seminar and the Thesis Lab studio. They both challenge the notion of architectural or design-research methodology. The word methodology is etymologically linked to the Ancient Greek word μέθοδος (=method); a composite word deriving from two words: μετά (= meta/ after), and οδός (= hodos/ way, threshold, path, journey). Originally the word means the branch of knowledge (-ology) that seeks what follows after. So, one can imagine that through οδός the students can guide themselves within thesis as well as to transition towards their potential professional practices. What constitutes the architectural methodology? How can one challenge its ends? How can a methodology prioritize learning through making and acting, experimentation, and engagement with the public(s)? Exhibition the Acts Through these courses we have been testing, together with the students, as potential architectural methodologies the following actions through repetition: experiments and tests, experiences and events, narratives and fiction, surveys and data collection, games and play, publications and exhibitions. The idea of an exhibition as an educational approach emerged out of the extensive use in both courses of e-publishing: where students use blogs and media platforms to comparatively document, and reflect on, their progress, and to essentially form (from day one) their own experimental methodology: Through the constant action

In Pursuit of Public Architecture

Zenovia Toloudi

of exhibiting (or/ and publishing) the students have been contributing their positions to the discourse through dialogue with the guests (or readers) who are no longer reviewers, or critics, but co-producers in this experiment/ effort. An example of tis educational experiment has been the Neoplayformz architectural exhibition that took place on April 13, 2013 in Watson Auditorium at WIT. Neoplayformz has been an alternative format to the final review; less of a collection of artifacts, and more of an assembly of experiences. In Neoplayformz exhibition students collectively created and tested three acts in which the audience was being transformed from a spectator, to a (newspaper) reader, to a climber, to a gamer, to a guinea pig through a food experiment! The three acts clustered around three topics that would engage the audience into the public life of the city through the exhibition experience. In Act I: Networked Terrains, three students, dealt with network-embedded terrains challenging issues related to private/ public, ownership/ sharing, utopia/ heterotopia/ dystopia. This Act was experienced through a panel discussion among the students, moderated by an outside-to-architectureperson that would engage the students and the audience into a very open public dialogue. In Act II: Reactive Arrangements the attention shifted towards a more playful approach of public engagement within the city. Through deployable structures, collective creations, and

In Pursuit of Public Architecture

Zenovia Toloudi

even random arrangements, citizens are expected to shape their city according to their preferences and imagination, by setting a new set of rules. The role of the designer, or the curator, the one versus many, among other issues raised a series of questions to visitors regarding rules, democracy, architectural principles, and fun. In Act III: Augmented Interludes, students explored heightened social experiences manifested through different methodologies and resulting in intriguing and temporal experiences for the users. It is through this Act that new social and temporal architectures are co-created by the visitors who shape the experiences based on their memories, senses, and intuitive explorations. The New Elements In this exhibition, both the individual projects and the theatrical format, including the display design, contributed to the generation of a new public space. This new public space affected the physical space temporarily, at least within the time-frame constraints of the exhibition. It is experienced through the shifting of hierarchies among different groups of participants. The projects themselves, through their projective character preserved as well a great vision for the new public space, which seemed to now depend on elements and (mainly) actions such as the following: αγορεύειν / agorevein / pleading All three acts challenged the traditional critique and

In Pursuit of Public Architecture

Zenovia Toloudi

review structure. Typically in every architectural school the student is separated from the reviewer but also the reviewer from the other public. This was not the case in the Neoplayformz exhibition. During the Networked Terrains there was a dialogue between students, moderator, and audience that would include even parents, and other family members of the soon-to-become graduates. At the same time, the playfulness of Reactive Arrangements, gave the opportunity to everyone to literally shape models, and form spaces and challenged the role of the designer as genius. Finally, in Augmented Interludes, the participants immersed in the different experiences the students had created. In particular, during the third review of this act, Social Darkness, the dynamics of the review totally changed. Through the sensorial experience, and safe darkness, the silent and exhausted students surprisingly were the most vivid participants in the dialogue. Publishing Can an architectural methodology be developed as a newspaper? And perhaps to be delivered with coffee and donuts? While investigating the complexity and influence of the communication infrastructures, JT White chose, a non-traditional architectural methodology to construct his arguments: Publishing, offered a platform to first aggregate the many distinct pieces of the research work (including components, scales and typologies of the communication infrastructres) but also the narratives of an architectural

In Pursuit of Public Architecture

Zenovia Toloudi

proposition for the 2053 all into one cohesive message: Operatopia. At the same time, through publishing he was able to explore the role of editor/ curator of information, or to test/ simulate how Operatopia’s “operator” would function in the future. Publishing, and in particular a lightweight newspaper has also the capacity to spread the message around and to therefore act as a communication network itself. White reports: “There was a report of a newspaper being left within the men’s bathroom after the final exhibition, evidence of reuse and coverage.” Dreaming What is the role of scrim medium in collective dreaming? Sinead Gullivan linked dreams, architecture and performance through a series of design explorations ranging from dreams interpretations, contextual architectures, surveys and games with people, to finally create, a movie out of experiential narratives projected on a scrim. These formed Architecure Asleep. Due to the rear projection but also the transparency of the material, the scrim allowed for multiple projections (two-and threedimensional, back from and in front of the scrim) and multiple audiences while it captured the shadows of the critics on various spatial elements in the exhibition. This multiplicity in experiences contributed to an exploration on interconnections between architecture’s users/ performers, temporal experiences, altered memories and

In Pursuit of Public Architecture

Zenovia Toloudi

identities. Gallivan describes the event: “The projected experiential narratives served as examples of the varying memories and spatial readings of an Architecture Asleep according to the user’s interpretation and understanding of an architecture. Meanwhile, the audience of [Neo] Playformz brought their own histories and memories that aided in the second transformation of the site through memory and interpretation.” Playing with Space Blocks Another methodology to instigate public space relies on games and play. Beyond models and drawings, Nicholas Durant, for his thesis created a series of experiments where he would test participatory production of architecture and event. Through open frameworks or incentive-based approaches he inspired the crowd into the production of a collaborative ephemeral intervention that uses responsive components to enliven residual spaces (within the traditional city). Durant observes: “The innate nature of many ephemeral interventions draws upon the participation and engagement of the public.This is an exploratory process into the problematic relationship of residual space as voids of underutilized potential within the urban fabric and seeks to establish an architectural precedent for dealing with these spaces in an ephemeral and reactionary manner.” He eventually designed a twenty-first century cultural

In Pursuit of Public Architecture

Zenovia Toloudi

center that “evolves, adapts and reacts to the mass will of the public over the whims of a single curator.” Eating Together Social Darkness, explored the social and sensorial benefits of engaging with people, food, and architecture in complete darkness. It is through this act that new social and experiential architectures were presented to specifically engage the users in a moment of time in order to heighten their sense of place and self. When dealing with darkness Iga Wyrzykowski created a series of experiments/ experiences that would give her data about people’s comforts and discomforts, feelings, and other unpredictable situations that would occur in the absence of light. She eventually had to add food to the dark. During the exhibition, in which Wyrzykowski performed one more of these experiments/ experiences, the combination of the darkness along with the edible experience constructed a temporal, social, and sensorial architecture. Wyrzykowski explains: “In order to achieve a comfortable social environment, this thesis proposes a social dining experience in the dark where friends and strangers come together to interact and enjoy great food without experiencing any external pressures. Incorporating food into this sensorial experience allows the users to appreciate the taste and smell of food, which is taken for granted daily. Additionally, various materials and textures are

In Pursuit of Public Architecture

Zenovia Toloudi

introduced as a means of navigation to enhance the senses of sound and touch.” At the same time, this architecture included a public dialogue among reviewers/visitors, and class participants, that would allow both arguing with each other but also “conspiring” all together. Sharing or Hacking Hacking may transform a place from public to private and vice versa. Danielle Gray, developed i_Space a model for a rentable privacy pod that addresses our “contemporary need for a place to rest, recharge, and stay connected within the public realm.” The evolution of the pod essentially becomes the “hack” into existing urban infrastructures, particularly the intimate format of the park bench, and is equipped with minimum functions to empower its user and potentially gain anonymous access to information of the city.” i_Space becomes a new playful typology of hybrid identity as it retains the private-self while simultaneously offering the essential “wiring” to the public. Y-not ? An element that catalytically contributed to the production of public space during the exhibition has been the “Y” wall construction (also referred as Y-not). The “Y” structure is response to the “H” structure typically used in reviews at Watson auditorium at Wentworth. The “Y” is consisted

In Pursuit of Public Architecture

Zenovia Toloudi

out of 3 walls that have the capacity to form different configurations (“Y”, “U”, “Z” and so on). This feature along with its lightweight material (donated by Kerfcore) created the possibility to separate the different “acts” of the play (exhibition) with a “set change” that would rearrange the layout of the “pinup walls” for each group of students. The “Y” became eventually a performative structure for multiple acts, as it allowed the students and the audience to more meaningful participations throughout the day. Instead of preparing the display at the “backstage” with stress and agony, the students celebrated the preparations through orchestrated but also improvised performances that would engage visitors as well as random people. The “Y” essentially reflected the idea of ‘playformance’ that was central throughout the studio, during the exhibition, and also captured in the title (NeoPlayformz). Although students generated this element due to the aforementioned reasons, they would always enjoy refer to it as “Y-not?” to further highlight the freedom of experimentation and ownership they were interested in exploring. Towards a More Public Architecture? The studio and exhibition explored small-scale projects that can affect the public life of the city through bottomup approaches and micro-macro strategies. The range of projects varying from architectural, artistic, cultural, or/and theoretical ideas and having some specific connection to

In Pursuit of Public Architecture

Zenovia Toloudi

city sites, events, communities, changing demographics, social tensions, conflicts, hopes and visions, they eventually introduce new typologies for the public domain. The whole experimentation served as a research and presentation forum, as well as critical laboratory that would instigate potential architectural acts. As each one of the participants potentially experiences different ends of public space in various encounters/scales, one imagines that the aforementioned elements and actions, the collaborative format, as well as the experiential exhibition, can all together create a methodology for the new public space. A true agora, now found within the institution. This engagement with the publics may affect the architectural profession towards a more meaningful direction, to serve the commons. ___________________________________________ Acknowledgements The author would like to thank the participants of Thesis Lab 2013: JT White, Danielle Gray, Bao Nguyen, Nicholas Durant, Jennifer Roza, Shaun Doscher, Iga Wyrzykowski, Sinead Gallivan, and Ryan Kahen.

[1] Protheses, a composite word deriving from pro (=pro, before) and theses (=positions), deals with all the research occurring prior to development of a thesis statement with emphasis towards an original one. Beyond this meaning of the required literature review that acknowledges the discourse, protheses also means intentions deriving from the original Greek word προθέσεις (= protheses). Through Protheses, I have been highlighting the need for both a rigorous (literature review), and a personal approach (one’s intentions).Thesis Lab, a term I developed for the Thesis studio emphasizes the experimental character a methodology may have, but also the potential links to other sciences and disciplines, which may have (or not) already developed a rigorous methodology for their own purposes.

Identity of a Cloud

Thomas McCormack

Dream â&#x20AC;&#x153;It is quite possible we may have formed entirely erroneous ideas of what we actually see. The greenish gray patches may not be seas at all, nor the ruddy continents, solid land. Neither may the obscuring patches be clouds of vapor.â&#x20AC;? -Edward E. Barnard A cloud, billowing and white, like cotton floating through the sky moving with the winds, a form in constant flux. The cloud has no consciousness; it knows nothing of the world it lives in.Yet when we look to the sky and see a cloud, associations begin to develop between that cloud, an object whose existence is subject to forces without control, and our own experiences. We project upon it a meaning, a recognizable association. These projections are an unconscious aspect of ourselves; it is how we read images, making the viewing of art and architecture a intensely personal experience. Great works are those that draw out a meaning that is individual to each viewer, an embodiment of their own experiences. The complexity of understanding comes with more experience and knowledge. Our own essence is a constant projection onto the world we occupy. We layer ourselves in wrappers that display what we are to the rest of humanity. Our clothes, objects, home, neighborhood, city, nation, world, are all layers of our projected self. This projection is put onto the world we inhabit and applied to the images acting as the embodied experiences we live. Knowing this I would like to talk

Identity of a Cloud

Thomas McCormack

about and frame some of my points around the institution I have spent the past five years studying at, Wentworth Institute of Technology. It will be a focus of architecture as an image of identity and its affect on its associations. Reflect As I finish my time as a student of Wentworth Institute of Technology I reflect on my experiences; what Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ve learned, the successes and failures, that which I never did and now regret. I have evolved as a student and a person. And through these evolutions I have changed my wrappers, those things that provide me shelter (clothing, apartment, objects) to outwardly project this evolution. I look at my surroundings as I write this; the studio, the architecture school, the campus, Boston. The identity of Wentworth is part of my own identity; it is a segment of my projection. Thus it is a responsibility and a rite to discuss my displeasure with what I believe to be a timid and uninspiring administration, and use the latest building project they are undertaking as a focus. I question Wentworthâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s ability or even desire to be a truly innovative university. The project embodies the experience of the last five years as their mission being more focused on their ability to make students that can get a job, jobs based on tasks and technical skill. A standardization, those that fit in rather than break out, the new residence hall seems to have no identity of itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s own, a bastardization between

Identity of a Cloud

Thomas McCormack

Boston’s conservative building culture and an attempt to apply trendy elements. Project “It is better to have your head in the clouds, and know where you are... than to breathe the clearer atmosphere below them, and think that you are in paradise.” -Henry David Thoreau I would like to project myself upon the school, the embodiment of my experience and beliefs. Let’s go back to the cloud, the grouping of vapor into a blank form created by forces of randomness. We as humanity have often placed quite a bit of meaning onto them, and used the cloud as a metaphor for things such as the soul, a place of dreaming, limitless possibility, and more recently it has been associated with our digital age and the data which we value. For me these are the attributes that should be projected from an institution of higher educations. Their built environment, an embodiment of an ideal for pushing boundaries without fear of failure and an understanding that we are fully embedded in a new age, the revolution is over, the digital age and the complexity that comes with it is here. We are university of technology, with a school of design, surrounded by many other colleges and world-class museums. Within a five minute radius you can visit the new additions by Renzo Piano and Norman Foster to the

Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum and Museum of Fine Arts, respectively. There is even the new residence tower built by MassArt which is practically on the Wentworth campus While it may divide opinions for its architectural merit the building does give a representation of the school that is in some way compelling. Within the school it self there are professors twith work and projects worth of more recognition whether it be professional, scholarly, or experimental built projects. This may come down to the architecture schools own lack of identity, with a constant shifting of mission, programs, curriculum that seem so disconnected to be from a program with clear vision. Architecture is a statement piece, and unfortunately Wentworth is continuing to fail and offer nothing new to Boston, let alone stand out on a national or international levels. Architecture is the physical manifestation of the institution, it is the statement, the image that embodies the identity. I would say that we are in a state of perceived paradise, administration focusing on numbers from a perch above the reality of academic environment rather than focusing on getting dirty and immersing themselves in the education process to develop students that think rather than regurgitate. It could be argued that we are simply building buildings and not building architecture, at a university that offers both undergraduate and graduate level degrees in architecture. John Hedjuk once said “The fundamental issue of architecture is that does it affect the spirit, or doesn’t it? If it doesn’t affect the spirit, it’s a building. If it affects the spirit, it’s architecture.”

Identity of a Cloud

Thomas McCormack

Float Away As I move on, I hope that students begin to engage in their education more, to seize the agency that is and has always been there. Students are ultimately in control of their own education, a professor cannot teach, instead it resides with a students desire to learn that facilitates thought and understanding. The ability to think is what makes a student and will help them develop as a person later on, otherwise you will be replaced by a computer and robots (they are pretty good at logic and task based jobs, beware). I suppose a proposal may be in order; what do I believe the identity Wentworth is at itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s essence. When I talk about the essence I believe in it as a representation of proportional demographics, not a top heavy, top to bottom dissemination. Hierarchy places a student at a disadvantage, they are inherently inferior, with little to offer and thus must be corrected. But we live in a world of complexity, a world that is driven by innovation from many rather than the traditional singular genius. Our generation is about collective knowledge, collective consciousness, and civic mindedness. We are enveloped in the world of the digital, the nonmaterial. And a university is in a prime position to confront the issues of bridging these physical and nonphysical worlds.Yet the opportunities for collaboration and innovation remain dormant, with little attempt to manifest a new culture. I now leave this school with a call to be bold, understand this generation of students, and know they have more to offer than you may think or more

Identity of a Cloud

Thomas McCormack

importantly may understand. "â&#x20AC;ŚGet up," I told my heart, "Give the soul a glass of wine. The moment has come to join the nightingale in the garden, to taste sugar with the soul-parrot." I have fallen, with my heart shattered where else but on your path? And I broke your bowl, drunk, my idol, so drunk, don't let me be harmed, take my hand. A new rule a new law has been born: break all the glasses and fall toward the glassblower.â&#x20AC;&#x153; -Rumi, A New Rule

Richard Brown

Printing Company

Player Series, Mike Schacht, 1993, Silk Screen Print by Editions Limited

Printing Company

Richard Brown

Early in the 1950’s, a traveling salesman from Brooklyn, New York, met an artist that was designing for Neiman Marcus. Taking full advantage of the salesman’s experience and the artist’s ability to design for silk screen, a line of quality cards with decorated envelopes emerged. Growth during the 50’s created the need for additional capital. a successful package was presented to Economic Authoriies in Pittsfield, Massachusetts, an under used former general Electric building and $100,000 loan was available. The company relocated. The 1960’s offered growth and the hiring of 30 employees. The personality of the company remained exclusive, quality products. This personality was maintained by producing for Saks Fifth Avenue, Bloomingdales, marshal Fields, Bullocks, Neman Marcus, and Lord & Taylor. Other retain was achieved at card shops, candy stores, gift stores, and jewelry stores. During the 1970’s and 1980’s, greeting cards and letter writing was replaced by electronic media. the company downsized to 6 employees and specialized in production of Museum paper products. They were working with all Major Museums like the National Gallery of Art, Museum of Modern Art, L A County, San Francisco, Art Institute of Chicago, as well as others. Museum products, all silkscreened, included notes, stationary and posters. Some of the masters reproduced were Matisse, Calder, Albers, and Picasso.

Printing Company

Richard Brown

In the 1980â&#x20AC;&#x2122;s, discussions were started where a long time employee would acquire the business. this was complete in 1985 and the company made an effort to return to the card business. It was not to be! All production for the next 10 years was devoted to working with artists, silk screening their work. Notable were Leroy Neman (sports artist), Mike Schacht (Baseball Hall of Fame Artist). The Largest art print company in Japan was interested in having the company print a collection of abstract / impressionist art from the collection at Albright Knox Gallery in Buffalo, New York, Space here does not allow description of the work required to hand separate up to 30 colors and print one color at a time. The president of Art Print assured the company that he would do what was necessary to complete the 6 month project. The company accepted the project and delivered all 25 designs, 250 each. But . . . it was too much! Down to 2 machines 6 employees (4 family members) All other sales and development ceased Lines of credit 90 Day notes Interest Payables The company assets were sent to California to merge with other card companies and have since been sent to Indiana to be a solid part of American Card Company.

Performative Performance

Jim Gibbons

The city was built for the automobile but in many cities city planners are reverting back to creating a pedestrian walkable city. Designing a city for the human scale at street level is what will make the city usable for pedestrians and start to push the use of cars out of the city. Designing at

Above Photo: Shadding Device Extended, Kenetic Segment, Basswood

Performative Performance

Jim Gibbons

the smaller scale of interventions instead of looking at a redesign at a city scale will help change the perception of the city focus onto the public pedestrian use instead of a car. The use of transformable and kinetic structures to change and shape space for the practical and functional

Above Photo: Shadding Device Closed, Kenetic Segment, Basswood

Performative Performance

Jim Gibbons

use of pedestrians in urban environments will start engaging the public. By integrating the spectacle of kinetic structures into a functional use that can be deployed by the public will create a more pedestrian friendly and active city. Engaging the public with the spectacle of a transforming structure starts the process of a city built for the pedestrian and can start transforming the cityscape. This structure to introduce is a shading device that can be deployed and opened up by the public walker. The structure has been designed for the use in New York City to cover over a portion of the High Line, but the concept of a urban shading device can be redesigned and reshaped to conform to any city setting. This device, starting at street level, overtop of an existing parking lot being redesigned into a plaza, in its folded, closed form covers an area of 20ft x 30ft and height of 25ft and it extends and opens up to cover an area of 110ft x 110ft and a height of 55ft and covering over the High Line. Being positioned in front of one of the viewing spurs of the High Line, it engages the public as a spectacle to watch extend and collapse which is a crucial aspect in the public realm as it becomes a destination to go in the city and interact with. However, just being a spectacle does not justify it being implemented into an urban setting, it needs to provide a function. Thus, the need for a covering structure for use in rainstorms or on hot sunny days as a shade, it brings a functional use to the space at all times and conditions both at street level and on top of the High Line.

Joe Saporetti

Simultaneity

Proposed Section, Mid-Review 95

Simultaneity

Joe Saporetti

Architecture can be understood ambiguous within interpretational variability dependent on perspective, past experience, and association. While its posture may remain the same it In past work Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ve experimented with what it means to be within an architectural work versus being outside an architectural work and how that threshold can be blurred creating a more unified experience for inhabitants. More recently Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ve been looking at how one associations with various objects. When an object becomes architectural, one simultaneously exhibits preconceived notions about the object while experiences associated with that object imply a sense of materiality, scale, and spatial construction. Creating multiple experiences within a built work brings complexity to a space better connecting inhabitants to the built work. My landscape studio site was located at Worlds End in Hingham, Massachusetts where we were to propose a Cartography Center while relating to various landscape conditions. Architecture is an interaction between built work, man, and landscape; this simultaneous interaction stresses the importance of architecture fitting within its context. To explore how architecture may work within a varied landscape a group member photographed myself in a green screen suit. This allowed us to portray multiple experiences within the landscape as it exists, and through the perspective of a human being by replacing the green suit with perceivable contexts. This exercise was useful to the development of my cartography center because it exposed me to the ideas of bio-mimicry. This acted as

Simultaneity

Joe Saporetti

camouflage for my architecture, simultaneously being both built form and landscape. Investigation of the site revealed three recognizable characteristics, which were incorporated into my design. These characteristics were: dense forestry, views from these trees to the surrounding oceanic gulf, and a prominent cliff edge. Ideally the roof plane of my cartography center could float above the ground creating an unhindered view of the Atlantic Ocean and Massachusetts Bay area. While a building cannot physical float it instead may present itself as an illusion tied to its surrounding context. The adjacent forest informed a structural system characterized by a roofline atop a series of circular columns. These columns acted referential, camouflage amongst the foliage. Glass curtain walls can be found solely on the ground floor while a flexible program allows for transparency to mediate views between the existing environment and built form. The subfloor beneath the main level submerges into a cliff face as the foundation embraces a different typology from the light qualities of the ground floor. Concrete masses cut into the cliff face while framing views of the ocean. A private program exists on the sub-floor separating itself from the transparent qualities of the first floor. Materiality and form were the basis for which my architecture could achieve simultaneity between inside and out and further the natural and unnatural. Currently my thesis work features the topic of simultaneity

Simultaneity

Joe Saporetti

differently incorporating themes of psychology than that of bio-mimicry. Knowing we associate common objects with past experiences may imply a connotation that simultaneously takes common objects and referencing them to historic events. Material qualities, sensationalism, emotion, and atmospheric spatial conditions may provide the framework for such implications. Douglas Darden (architect, teacher, and author of Condemned Building) combined various drawn objects and places assembling them to create diagrams he called discontinuous genealogies, a pubescent form of ideograms. These ideograms referenced relevant themes within his work while attempting to capture his informal decisions during the design process. Borrowing this method from Darden offers a stronger understanding of my question: How can simultaneity change the inhumane perception of concrete? Framing this question within the philosophical traditions of alchemy encourage the understanding further. Historically alchemists were capable of changing the commonly ill perceived material of lead into gold, a process I would like to replicate with concrete. Alchemy used the four classical elements of earth, air, fire, and water (there is a less known fifth being pneuma or spirit) to achieve this transmutation. I arranged five common objects / places overlaying them to create an ideogram similarly to Dardenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s discontinuous genealogy despite them chronologically coming first (Dardenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s ideograms came after a projects completion).

Simultaneity

Joe Saporetti

The first object chosen was Paul Revere’s Lantern (the fire), an object providing light and warmth while featuring ventilation to maintain the flames existence. More specifically Paul Revere’s Lantern was made out of copper (Paul Revere was the first man to roll copper in the United States). The lantern as belonging to Paul Revere was chosen knowing his house’s adjacency to my site. This enforces its site-specific relevance while incorporating the notion of folklore in reference to Paul Revere’s midnight ride. These ideas simultaneously influence the form, material, and function of my design through previous associations. Secondly I chose the concrete frame of the existing building (the earth). The building serves the William Callahan Tunnel beneath as a ventilation tower to its illnuanced gasses. The monumentality of the concrete frame, the fact that it was pre-existing, and my decision to keep it on site references the earth and it’s permanence but there is a lesser known story associated with the tunnel on which the frame stands. The tunnel was named after William Callahan’s son who was killed in World War II, a historical fact relatable to life, death, and the act of burying a body (to tunnel). Representing water I chose to reference a concrete factory. In order to keep concrete in it’s liquid state it must continuously flow (This is why concrete trucks/ mixers rotate in transport to construction sites before use). Concrete factories also use a series of conveyors

Joe Saporetti

Simultaneity

PRODUCED BY AN AUTODESK EDUCATIONAL PRODUCT

sifting and moving ingredients further relating to the fluid properties of water. While a concrete factory’s form isn’t characterized by liquidity, prominent typologies like a silo offer formal inspiration while their actions relate to water directly. PRODUCED BY AN AUTODESK EDUCATIONAL PRODUCT

For the final common element of air I chose an engine, which requires airflow as intake and exhaust as output to function properly. Engines are highly dynamic similarly to wind while both being defined by its constraints. Though an engines materiality is not commonly associated with air the actions and affects prompted by steel begin to control and influence an engines intake and output, its limitations. Finally the element of Pneuma, or spirit, starts to give life to the elements that the others alone do not embody; I chose a 1963 Corvette to symbolize my father who passed

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Joe Saporetti

Simultaneity

chose a 1963 Corvette to symbolize my father who passed during my childhood. He was a mechanic and the image of this car will always be associated with him (A signed photograph remains documenting my father posed with the car after he finished its repair). All these elements combine in the form of one building to function as a Columbarium and Botanical Garden where each object represents a specific moment in the buildings program. Both projects demonstrate simultaneity in a particular fashion; one through an association of a structural system to a specific landscape, and the other through the association of common objects to spatial, material, and historical ideas at a larger architectural scale. Using subliminal connotations creates a more experiential form of architecture due to our inherent perception of things simultaneously.

Above Photo: Paul Saporetti 101

Impulse

102

The Garage

Festum Fatuorum

Stephen DeMayo

The Festum Fatuourum uncovers architectures need to objectify desire and redistribute desire The Roman Catholic Church attempts to manifest the sacred into a tangible and comprehensible symbol. This dialogue generates the question of what is sacred space. During the middle ages the clergy participated in the Feast of Fools, one day before the world would be reborn of sin to poke fun at those of less fortune and those of the profane, each year they would crown the fool. The Jester and Priest symbolize the contemporary performance of Festum Fatuourum.

103

Festum Fatuorum

Stephen DeMayo

The cold and relentless display of spiritual tension articulates a constant search for spatial reconciliation.

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Festum Fatuorum

Stephen DeMayo

105

Festum Fatuorum

Stephen DeMayo

The performance of Festum Fatuorum acknowledges the constant struggle in the construction of the threshold between the sacred and profane.

106

Stephen DeMayo

Festum Fatuorum

4 1

Sacrament of Re 1 Contrition 2 Confression 3 Satisfaction 4 Absolution

Floor of Confession 1. Contrition 2. Confression 3. Satisfaction 4. Absolution

107

Festum Fatuorum

Stephen DeMayo

The Priest executes the sacred rituals between god and man. His liturgical acts search to confront the Jester in hope to release the growing tension between the sacred and profane world by granting the sacrament of confession. 108

Festum Fatuorum

Stephen DeMayo

109

Aural Definition

Derek Mueller

Aural architectures offers a chance to disconnect the design of space from its reliance on visual methods and components by replacing its conventional process with artistic, social, and emotional context. Promoting inclusivity and accessibility for visually impaired users, this methodology explores the relationship between aural design and the atmospheric experience it creates. Mental conjecture provides a valid interpretational visualization recognizable through aural definition. Ultimately a space can now be understood through the cultivation of sound. A space is mute without activity. The challenge then becomes how does one represent space through sound during the design process. Architecture can be designed by defining a space solely through acoustic compositions that evoke an architectural experience. These compositions are produced through â&#x20AC;&#x153;activatorsâ&#x20AC;? combined with material design, acoustic design, and technical effects. Compositions become explorations into spatial relationships using depth, reverberation, and echo as spatial definition, form, and program. These tools transform aural compositions into architectural form and further experience. Creating a design methodology for aural architecture begins with understanding the relationship between sound and space. Using this knowledge a designer can create a composition describing spatial qualities. While this creates a mental representation of space interpreted by the

110

Aural Definition

Derek Mueller

inhabitant, complete understanding of an architectural manifestation may be lost in translation. Pairing aural descriptors with an understanding of how one moves through space, a designer can cohesively inform transitions, implying form, and further dynamic separation. A space is mute without an activator. This activator or activators begin to inform essential qualities of space. The manipulation of these activators begins to reveal the form of the space, the location of environmental and physical activators in relationship to the individual, and the materiality of the space. All of these elements characterize the composition of a space, offering aural variability. In order to accomplish this classification or personification of space, an understanding of spatial technicality is vital. A sound in space references unique qualities dependent on the space itself, its constraints, and its influence. By experimenting with dry or original input sounds, the reverberation of that sound, and sounds decay, one can generate classifiers or aural identities. However, a basic understanding of spatial constraints and acoustics must be understood when interpreting such classifiers. For instance, smaller, more confined spaces have shorter decay times, higher dry sounds, and the materiality and shape of the room will determine the reverberation length. In contrast, larger spaces have less dry, or wet, inputs, a higher reverberation length (also depending on materiality), and

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Aural Definition

Derek Mueller

longer decay times. I show this with a simple cell phone ring in three different spaces that were created through the manipulation of the three previously mentioned identifiers. By manipulating these spatial properties, I was able to create three different spaces. While this begins to generate recognizably different spaces, architecture must also consider the transitions between these spaces. The key for designing aural architecture then comes down to soundâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s affect on architectural thresholds as aural transformations. Accurately representing this allows for a cohesive understanding of spaces in relationship to its greater wholesome built form. In order to accurately depict the transition between spaces, one must understand how sound changes between such spaces. An approach to transitioning spaces can be done by indulging dynamics. Ultimately, aural design disconnects designers from their conventional methods. While architecture can be analyzed for its inherent aural characteristics or acoustic value, designing in sound addresses how experience can be captured without being physical present. While perspectives and architectural drawings attempt to represent an experience they fall short in telling a stores entirety. Drawings can be falsified capturing dramatic, unrealistic depictions of actuality. Sound design instantly transports the listener to the space giving them an enhanced, unfiltered experience captured directly from architecture itself.

112

42.33557

Patrick Brady

113

An Illusion

Patrick Brady

Project without this validation is nothing more than a conjecture failing to aspirate.

114

Reflection

You

115