Peripatetic: Fall 2020 by peripatetic magazine

_____ ____ _______(20:59)___ ___ ______ ____ there’s this thing ____ ______ ____ __ ___“awkward silence”______ ___ ____ _______ ___ _ ____ _____ _______ bizarre ___ ___ _____: _______ ____ ______ a conversation, ___ __ ____ ____ _____ _______ _____ __ _____ _____: ____ ___ ________ ____ __ ____ ___. _____ ___ __ _____ ____ _______ __ ____ ____ ______ ____ ____there’s _____ ____ __ ____ we feel the urge to speak _____ ___ _______ _ ____ _______. __ _____ _____; __ ______ ___ __ ______ __fill the air __ ______ _____ __ ____. Speaker 2 (21:57): ___ ____ __ _____ __. __ ______ ______ __ ____ ____: ___ _____ __ _____ _ ____: ___ _____ __ _____ ____ _______music, you’re paying attention ___ __ ______ _______ ____ ______ ______ _____. ___ _____ _____ ___ ___________ ____ __ ___: ___ ____ ___ _______ __ _ _______ ___ _____ spaces between the notes ____ - ____ __ ____ _______ _______ _________ ___almost like a conversation ___ ______ _______ ____ __ __ _____ __ . . . __ ____ ______ __ ____ ____: ___ ____ __ ___________ ____about the spaces __ ____. ___ _____ ___: __ ____ ____ _____ ____ _____ ___ ___ _____ _________ ___ __ _ ___. _ ____ __ _______ __ ______ ___ _____, ___ _ ____ - _______ __ ___ ________ ______ ______ _______ __ _______ ______ ___ ____ -__________

note after note after note, _ _____: __ _ ____ ________ ___ interval after interval ____ __ ___ ____ ____ ____. __ ___ _ ______ _______ ____ ___ ____ ______ __ ____ ____: ___ ____, ____ ___three spaces _______ ____ green. And this, this space has a texture and a color ____ ___ _______ ___ ___ _____: ____ _______ _______ ____ ___ ______ ___ _____ _______ _____ _____ ___ ___________ ____ __ ___: _ _____ ____ that’s really cool. ___ ___ __ _____ ____ _______ __ _ _______ ___ _ ____ _____ ______ color, letter, gender, and number, ____ ______ ______ _____. ___ _____ consciously decide __ ______ _____ __ ____. __ _______ ______ ___ ____ -______________ ___ __ _ ___. _ ____ __ _______ _______ ___ _ ____ _____ it doesn’t change ____ ___ ________ __ ___. ___ Speaker 1 (24:23): ______ _____. ___ _____ _____ ___ ______ ________ ___ __ _ ___. _ ____ __ _______ __ ______ ___ _______ ____ __ __ _______ __ ____ ____ _________ For me, it it’s pretty fixed._ __ _ ___. _ ____ __ _________ _____; __ ______ ___ __ ______ spaces with colors? Yes. ____ __ ______. __ ___ ______ _______ __ ___ _____. designing ____ __ __ _____ ___ something?_ ____ ______ __ ____ ____: ___ ____ architecture too ___ ____ ___ ______ ___ _____ __ _____ __. __ ____ ___ ______ ___ _____ _______ _____ _____ ___ ___________ _______ ___ _ ____ __ ___ ____ _____________________ Speaker 2 (25:57):___ ____ _______ __ ____ ____ ______ ____ ___ ____ ____ ______ __ ____ ____: ___ No, no, no, no.

___ ____ ________ __ I was just agreeing with you. ____ __ ______ __ ____ ____: ___ _ ____ ______ __ ____ ____: ___ _____ __ _____ ____ _______ __ _ _______ ___ _ ___ . . . ____ _____. ___ _____ _____ ___ ___________ ____ __ __Taoism. I don’t know either, ____. __ _______ ______ ___ ____ -____________ _______ _____ _____ ___ ____ ______ ______ _____. ___ _____ _____ ______ ______ _____. ___ _____ _____ ___ ___________ __ ______ ___ _______ ____ __ __ ______ __ _____ _____: ____ ___ ________ the value of emptiness and how, _ __ ______ ___ _______ ____ __ __ __uh, emptiness, emptiness. ____ __ __ _____ ____ ____ ______ __ ____ ____: ______ __ ______ ___ _______ ____ __ __ ____________ ____ _______ __ ____ _ . . . ___ ______ ____ __ story_________ _____; __ ______ ___ __ __sidetracking. __ _______ __ ______ ___ _______ ____ __the whole concept of not existing,_ _______ _____ _____ ___ ______ maybe [inaudible] _____ __ ____ ____: ___ ________ _____ _____ ___ __________ ______ _____. ___ _____ _____ ___ ___________ ____ __ ___ _____. ___ _____ _____ ___ ___________ _ ___. _____ ___ __ ____Speaker 1 (28:54):_ ____ _______ __ ____ ____ __ thinking about things. __ ______ ___ _______ ____ ___ ____ ______ __ ____ ____: ___ ____ architecture. _ ____ ____ ______ __ ____ ____: ___ _ _____ ____ _______ __ ____ ____ ______ ____ __ __ _____ ____ ____ ______ __ ______ _____ ___ ___________ ______ ______ _______ __ ___ ___ _____ ___ ____walls of the space instead ______ _____ _____ ___________ ____ ___ __last semester _ _ ____ _____ ____ __was designing to the dimensions__ ____: ___ _ ____ ____ ______ ____ __ _____; __ ______ ___ __ _______ ____ ____ ______ __ ____ ___ ______ _____ ____________ ______________. future _________ ____ __ ___: _ _____ _______ ___ ___________ _____

drawing, not drawing a square _ ____ __ ______ _____ ____ ______ __ __ _____ _____ ______ ____ _____ __ ____ ____: ___ ___ _______ _________ _ ___ _ _______ _____. ___ _____ _____ ___ __________the square___ ____ _______ __ _ _______ ___ _ _____something that’s not emphasized a lot. ______ _______ _____ _____ ___ ____ ____Um, but__ _____ _______ _____ _____ ___ _____ really interesting ________ __ ___. __ the moon, the massive ____ ____ ______ __ ____ ____ __ ____ ______ __ ________ __ ____ _______. __ _____ ________ ________ ____ __it’s so cool._ ___ _ _______ _____. ___ _____ _____ ___ ___________ _ ______ ___ _____ _______ ___ ___ _____ _______ _____ _____ ___ ________ . . . _____ ___ __ _ ___. _ ____ __ ______ ___ ______ _____ ___ __. like the museum?_____ __ _ _______ ___ _ _______ _____. ___ _____ Speaker 1 (31:11):_ _______ _____ _____ ___ ___________ ____ _______ _____ _____ ___ ______ New York_ ___ ______: __ _ ____ ________ ___ ____ __ ____ ___. _____ ___ __ _____ ____ _______ __ ____ ____ __ Um, okay. ___________ ____ __ ___ _____. ___ _____ art. _____ ____ ___ ____ ____ ______ __ _____ ____ _______ __ _ _______ ___ _ ___ . . . ____ ___ , music has influenced the way ____ _______ _____ _____ ___ ____ ______ _____ _____ _____ ___ ____ ______ ________. __ _______ ______ ___ _____I remember it was __ ___ ________________ drawings, so making _____ _____ ___ ____ . . . architecture projects __ ___ _____ _______ _____ _____ ________ _________ _____ ___ __ _________ ____ ___ _______ ____ __ ___. ___ _____ _____ ___ _____ ___ __ _______ ____ ____ ______ __ _ __ ___ ______ _____ ___

_______ ___ _ ___learning by imitation.____ ____________ ___ ___ _ _ ____ __________ ______ ________. _____ _____ ___ ___________ ____: ___ _____ __ _____ ____ _______ __ _ ____So, you know, _______ ___ _____ ___ _______. ___ ____ ____. ___ _____ _____ ___ _____ __ ___ _____. ___ ____ _____. ___ _____ _____ ___ _____ ___ ___________ ____ “listening” __________ ____ __ ___ _________ _______ __ ___ ____ ______ ____ ___ ____ ____ ______ __ __[inaudible]__. ___ _____ _____ ___ ___________ _ ____ __: ____ _______ _______ ____ ___ ______ ___ _____ _______ ___ _____ _____ ___ ___________ _____ _________ _ ___ _ _______ _____. _ not here. ____ ______ __ ____ ____ __ ____ ______ Speaker 2 (33:19): _ __________ ______ _____. ___ _____ __ _____ ____ _______ __ ____ ____ ______ _____ ___ ___________ ____ ___ _______ ____ __ __ __ ____ ____: ___ _ _____ ____ _ . . . _____ ____ ______ __ ___ think critically_ ____: ___ _ _____ ____ ____ ______ __ ____ __ - __ ______ __ ________ __ ____ _______. __ _about what _ ____ __ ______ ___ ______ _____ __ ___ ___________ ____ __ ___: ___ ____ _____ Oh, I, so ______ ___ ___ _____ ______ _____. ___ _____ _____ ___ ___________ _ ______ ___ _____ ______ ____ _______ __ _ ____________ _ ___ _ _______ __ ___ ___________ ____ __ ___: ___ ____ ____that’s been my, like ___ _______ __ ____ ____ ____ __ ___ ____ ____ ______ __ ____ __representation _____ __ ____ ____: ___ _ _____ ____ _______

__ ____ ____ __ ____ ______ __ wood and you _ ___. _ ____ __ ______ ___ ______ _____ ___ __ ___ _ ______ ____ __ _____; __ ______ ___ __ _______ ____ ____ ______ __ ____ ___ ______ ________ ___. _____ ___ __ _____ ____ _______ __ ____ __. ___ ____ _____. ___ _____ _____ ___ _____ there’s never, we always, you know, ___ ____ _____. ___ _____ _____ ___ _____ you hear it _ ___________ ____ __ ___ ___ ______ ____ __ _____; __ ______ ___ __ _______ ____ ____ ______ __ ___in our program. ____ _____. ___ _____ _____ : ___ _____ __ ___ _____. _It’s like, Oh, ____ __ ____ ______ __ ________ __ ____ _______. __ _____ _____ _____. ___ _____ _____ ___ ___________ ____: ___ _____ __ ____ _ ___ . . . ____ _______ ____ ____ ______ __ ____ __ - __ _____when you scale it up __ _ _______ ___ _ _ . . . Speaker 2 (34:56): _ ___ _________ _______ __ ___ ____ ______ ____ ___ ____ ____ ______ _ “huh, what do you think” ____ __ _ __ ___ ______ _____ ___ _______ ___ _ __ _______ _____ _____ ___ ____ Like, doesn’t that __ __ ______ ___ ______ _____ ___ __ ____ ______ ____. more insight_ ____ ______ __ _ __ ___ ______ _____ ___ _______ __ still not know?_ ___ ___________ ____ _______ _____ _____ ___ ______ _ _____ ___ _______ ___ _ ___ . . . ____ ________ _______ ____ __ __ ____________ ____ _______ __ ____ ____ ____ ______ ____ lost in translation dilemma __ __. ___ _____ _____ ___ _____ __ ___ _____. ___ ____ where you bring _______ _____ _________ _ ___ _ ___ _____.

___ _____ _____ ___ _____ ___ __ ____ ______ __ ____ ____: ___________ ___ ___ ____ ____ ____ ____ _ _____ Whereas when _ _____ ____ _______ __ ____ ____ __ __________ ___ _ ___ you’re building ______ ____: ___ _____ __ _____ ___ um, right there,____ ___ ___________ ____ _______ _____ _____ ___ _ ___ _____ _____ ___ ___________ _____ _________ _ __ _ ___. _ ____ __ ____ sunlight. ___ __ . . . _ _____ ___ _______ ___ _ ___. _ ____ __ ______ ___ ______ _ ___ __ _____ ____ _______ __ ____ _____ ___ ___________ ____: ___ _____ __ _____ __ see the shadows __ _____ _____ ___ ___________ ____: ___ _____ __ ______ _____ _____. ___ _____ _____ ___ ___________ ____: ___ ______ ________ ___. _____ ___ __ _____ ____ _______ __ ____ _cool idea._____ _____ _____ ___ ______ _ _____ ___ _______ __ . . . “offices who do like” _ _____ _____ ___ ___________ ____: ___ _____ ___ ___________ ______ ______ _______ __ ___ ___ _____ ___ ________ _______ __ ___ ____ ______ ____ ___ __one to one scale _ _____ ______ ____ _______ ____ ______ _______ ______ ____ __ ______ bigger picture. _ __ ___ ______ _____ ___ _________ __ ________ __ ____ ___ perspective ___ ___________ ______ ______ _______ __ ___ ___ . . . _____ __ ___ _____ ____: ___ _ _____ ____ _______ __ ____ ___ ______ _____ ______ Hmm. _ __ . . . _ _____ ___ _______ ___ _ ___. _ ____ _ ___ ___ _____ _______ _____ _____ ___ ___remember that. __ ______ ___ ______ actual, [real life] ____ ___ __ _ ___. _ ____ __ _______ _______ ___ _ ____ watched a video ____ ___________ _ three dimensional world ____________ _______ _____ _____ ___ ____ ______ ______ _____. ___ _____ _____

__ the [space]. __ ______ _ __ _____ _ __ _____ _ __ _____. . _ _____ _________ ____ _______ __ __ ___ ___ __ ___ __ ____ ____: __ ________ ___ __ ___ ___________ ____ _. . . _ _____ _________ _ ___ _ ___ _ ___ _____ __ _____ __. __ ____ ___ ______ ___ _____ _______ ____________ ___ __ _ ___. _ ____ __ _______ _______ the workflow __. __ ___ ______ _______ __ ___ _ “a hundred percent” __ ____ ____ ______ ____ ___ ____ ____ ______ __ ____ trial and error _ ____ ____ ____. __ ___ _ ___ what does it mean? ____: ___ _____ __ _____ ____ _______ __ _ _______ ___ _ ___ .___ ____ _____ ____ _____ ___ ___ _____ _________ ___ __ _ ___. _ ____ __ _______ blue chord [Music] ___ - ____ __ ____ _______ _______ _________ _ ______ __ ___ _____ _____ ___ __ I made this one _________ ____ __ ___: __ put into words___ _______. __ _____ _____; __ ______ ______ __ ____ ____: ______ __ ______ ___ _______ ____ __ __ ____________ ____ _______ __ ____ _ . . . ___ __ _____. ___ _____ _____ ___ _____ ___ __ I’m explaining ____ ______ ______ _______ __ ___ ___ ______ body knowledge ______ ___ ______ _ ___ __ _____ ____ _ you can hear it __ __ ____ ____: ______ __ ___Speaker 1 (54:32): ___ ___ _______ ____ __ __ ____________ ____ _______ _ _____ ____ _______ __ _ _______ ___ _ ___ . . . ____

_____. ___ _____ _____ ______ __ your co-op ____ ___ ______ _____ ____________ _ the work day ______ ___ ___ _____: ____ __ _ ______ _______ ___ my experience _____ _____ ___ ___________ _____ _________ _ ___ _ __ ___ _____ _____ ___ ___________ _______ ____ ___ ____ ______ __ ____ I don’t know ___ __ _ ___. _ ____ __ ______ ___ ___ __ ______ ___

fall 2020

letter from the editors

December 2020

To our readers, The ancient Greek work peripatetikós, or peripatetic, translates as “given to walk about.” Waterloo Architecture’s fourmonth rotational study term/co-op term program embodies this idea of learning by moving from place to place. When we first had the idea for Peripatetic Magazine, we envisioned a platform to share stories, sketches, journals and the excitement of travelling somewhere far away from the School’s base in Cambridge, Ontario. In the process of listening to our fellow architecture students, we were struck by the diversity of experiences. Ranging from daily routines to unexpected realisations, students had to adapt to different working cultures, and faced the challenges of living in a new city for the first time. We decided to expand our scope to include co-ops both near and far, within and beyond architecture. Studying architecture is versatile and interdisciplinary: the unique experiences and personal stories of every student we spoke to were truly inspirational. In the spirit of peripatetic, Part One: From Place to Place, shares travel stories, city walks, personal accounts, and impressions

of diverse geographic and cultural landscapes. Part Two: Between Here and There, focuses on the specific hobbies and interests that students carry with them while on co-op. Part Three: The Road Less Traveled, takes a step beyond the traditional architecture and design office to share alternative workplaces and entrepreneurial co-ops. Rather than simply reminiscing about past adventures or collecting them as fragements of memorabilia, these conversations serve as records of one’s place in the world, as both an active participant and as a critic. Importantly, we want to acknowledge problems within the co-op system and architectural education, as well as struggles that students face during and after a co-op term. While there are opportunities for international co-ops, they are not available to many students who do not have the financial means to leave North America. Scholarships provided through the university, reaching only up to $3000 per term, are not enough to cover living expenses abroad. Internships in Europe, Asia, and—to a lesser extent—Canada and

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the United States, can be poorly paid and exploitative, often asking for long unpaid overtime hours. Pay discrimination and unequal income continue to present unfair advantages for certain students over others. Although most of the stories we feature in Peripatetic are positive, many students have had negative co-op experiences. This information needs to be accessible and shared throughout the WASA community. We encourage everyone to look into and contribute to the financial transparency spreadsheet prepared by Treaty Lands, Global Stories. Through our conversations, we found that the valuable experiences students gained during their co-ops often are not reintegrated into the school culture or studio work. How can the School of Architecture encourage a deeper relationship between academia and practice? Peripatetic is a starting place for these experiences to be shared more widely, but more work can, and should, be done. Furthermore, how can the School support a wider range of co-op experiences as seen in Part Three: The Road Less Traveled? Internship opportunities outside of the well-trodden realm of large corporate architecture firms can be difficult to find, but if knowledge is passed more transparently between students, finding a co-op job and a place to live would be less isolating and stressful experiences.

In the midst of a global pandemic that has brought all travel to a halt, many students started to work remotely, lost their job placements, or were unable to find a co-op at all. As we are all very much in one place, weâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re given the chance to reflect on past and future experiences. Will the co-op program at Waterloo Architecture always be peripatetic, or will students work increasingly closer to our home base in Cambridge? In the face of the climate crisis, will constant flying be feasible for much longer? How will the architectural profession shift to respond to calls for much-needed social change? We donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t know the answers to these questions, but perhaps change over time is itself a form of peripatetic. Last of all, we would like to thank all of our contributors for sharing their stories. The magazine would have been impossible without them. Thank you as well to Aris Keshav for editing the text, and to Osman Bari for providing advice on our layouts. Finally, thank you to our friends and classmates for their support and enthusiasm throughout this long process. We hope you enjoy the magazine and we would love to hear what you think! Write to us at peripatetic.zine@gmail.com for feedback or stories you would like to share for our next issue. Happy reading, Michelle Li and Leela Keshav

year of study

office size

wage 3 4 2 1

rent

hours year study

office size

wage 3 4 2 1

rent

hours year of study

office size

3 4 1 2

rent 6

stipend

hours PERIPATETIC MAGAZINE

Canada

1 2 3 4

Hourly wage*

Work hours

≤ 10 CAD / hr 15 20 ≥ 25

≤ 37.5 hr/wk 40 45 ≥ 50

Monthly rent $0 CAD 500 1000 ≥ 1500

Office size

Year of study

≤ 50 people 100 150 ≥ 200

1st year 2nd year 3rd year 4th year

*compensation varies depending on level of experience and office

USA 1 2 3 4

Hourly wage*

Work hours

≤ 10 USD / hr 15 20 ≥ 25

≤ 37.5 hr/wk 40 45 ≥ 50

Monthly rent $0 USD 500 1000 ≥ 1500

Office size

Year of study

≤ 50 people 100 150 ≥ 200

1st year 2nd year 3rd year 4th year

*compensation varies depending on level of experience and office

Europe Stipend* 1 2 3 4

€0/month 500 1000 ≥ 1500

Work hours ≤ 37.5 hr/wk 40 45 ≥ 50

Monthly rent €0 500 1000 ≥ 1500

Office size

Year of study

≤ 50 people 100 150 ≥ 200

1st year 2nd year 3rd year 4th year

*compensation varies depending on level of experience and office Please note that this data is not an official survey and not represenative of the entire student body Follow this link to view and contribute to the original financial transparency spreadsheet

co-op infographics* * Based on the financial transparency spreadsheet created by Treaty Lands, Global Stories

We acknowledge that the School of Architecture is situated on the traditional territory of the Neutral, Anishinaabeg and Haudenosaunee peoples who maintain strong relationships to the land we occupy. The University of Waterloo is situated on the Haldimand Tract, land promised to the Six Nations that includes ten kilometres on each side of the Grand River. Most students leave Cambridge for co-op terms, yet we keep returning to the city for our school terms. We invite readers to reflect on their own connections to the lands where we continue to work and reside, both on Turtle Island and beyond. In a fastpaced milieu of moving from place to place, how do you find common ground? How do you learn about and share stories of where you are and were and will be?

Note: All of the following interviews were transcribed and edited, with the intervieweeâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s permission, for accuracy and clarity. 8

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part one: from place to place 8 - 125

part two: between here and there 126 - 179

part three: the road less traveled 180 - 277

contents 9

from place to place

Cambridge Vancouver

Hamilton

Calgary

New York City San Francisco

Alternating between academic and work terms, the co-op programâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s structure puts us in a constant state of motion. We are amalgamations of places we have been, of the memories and experiences we carry with us. In this section, weâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ll hear travel stories, city walks, unexpected conversations with strangers, and observations of adjusting to new cultures.

Amsterdam Shanghai

Copenhagen

Tokyo

Beijing Berlin

Ljubljana Brussels London

Hong Kong Singapore

gochisousama deshita

becoming a berliner

yi ming wu + lily tran 14 - 23

jeffrey so 24 - 31

east and west urbanisms

amsterdam anecdotes

sophie fan 46 - 49

vanessa sokic 50 - 57

an exercise in geography

a taste of hong kong

derrick clouthier 68 - 87

salina lee 88 - 93

from local to global

vancouver + nyc introspection

sparsh gandhi 106 - 109

ali salama 110 - 113

three hours in every direction

olafur eliasson in beijing

vincent chuang 32 - 37

sheldon chen 38 - 45

new horizons

old gold mountain

anonymous 58 - 61

london: green not grey nidi metaj 94 - 97

iris ip 62 - 67

living danishly rushali patel 98 - 105

how to order kopi

BIG dreams + dragon dancing

tracy meng + kevin kunnappilly 114 - 121

soo woo 122 - 125

itinerary 13

Wazuka Tea Farm, photo by Yi Ming

Naoshima Island, Yellow Pumpkin by Yayoi Kusama, photo by Lily 14

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follow @yi.ming.wu + @lillitran

gochisousama deshita a conversation with yi ming wu and lily tran Tell us about your co-ops in Japan. LILY TRAN: I think about Japan every single day. It was my first time living alone abroad, and there was a lot of self discovery. Was it the city or the work you were doing that made the experience so good? LT: Definitely both, but the work did consume more than 12 hours of my day. The city itself was amazing, in terms of architecture, people, food. If you go from one train station to another it’s like you’re entering a completely different zone. YI MING WU: Japan was great. Even until today I’m still processing what it was about. I loved being there with Lily—we really got to bond. We both did a bit of YI MING WU + LILY TRAN

travelling, but had different itineraries. For a month and a half, I would take all of my weekends in different cities across Japan. LT: We did most of our travelling independently.

“If you go from one train station to another it’s like you’re entering a completely different zone.” YMW: Mostly we hung out in Tokyo. Both of us paid for the JR ticket pass—they have a few major transit companies, but JR is the most connected, and they give tourists this basic package for tickets that’ll take you anywhere. I visited northern Japan in Hakodate on the island of Hokkaido. The most south I went was to Hiroshima where I stayed at a hostel/sake bar. It was great, 15

and I loved talking to the people who owned the place. Then I went to the middle of the country to Kyoto, where it was a lot warmer. I visited with some of my housemates—I lived in two different places over the term. The first was a shared community living situation with 13 people, and the second place was with six others but we had separate rooms. In terms of work, they were very strict that interns could never come earlier or leave later than the senior partners. I’ve heard a lot about the work culture in Japan being really stressful—was that the case? LT: It wasn’t very stressful. The firm I worked at was only five people. I found the work incredibly enjoyable, because it was mostly model-making. I was making very minute details, like a plate of okonomiyaki or a little cat at a 1:100 scale. YMW: I feel like that kind of work suits you—you love getting into tiny details. LT: Definitely. My team was really amazing, even though we rarely spoke—in a week, unless I was meeting up with Yi Ming, I sometimes spoke less than two sentences. But in my office the people were so kind to me and made me feel very appreciated. They gave me a lot of freedom in terms of how I expressed materiality and went about

“I was making very minute details, like a plate of okonomiyaki or a little cat at a 1:100 scale.” 16

fabricating things. My manager was the wife of the main architect and she would make me dinner every night. She would let me buy ice cream for the whole team, and she got us cake. It was a really good vibe, so it didn’t feel like a long work day. YMW: Did you feel a lot of hierarchy in the office? Because I did for sure. LT: For me, it wasn’t vocally announced. Out of respect, I used the proper suffixes for names, but it wasn’t asked of me. The only sense of hierarchy was that the main head honcho was on one side separated by bookshelves: if you were on the north side of the room, you were high up, if you were south of the room by the stacks, you were still learning—that’s where I sat. YMW: My office was a bit more hierarchical. It was also a small office—it had 10 architects, and all of them were male except one. The boss and admin people worked at the bottom level, and the level above ground was for the architects and interns. The first day they told me to call the boss ‘Sensei,’ and I had to use all the right suffixes. Beside the lax work hours and under-the-table pay, everything was what I expected. I learned a lot about cultural etiquette. I remember going out for lunch once with one of my co-workers and we went to this local restaurant that had only three things on the menu. You were supposed to say “gochisousama deshita” after you finished the meal, which means “thank you for the meal.” I couldn’t say it! My co-worker had just taught me five minutes before we had to leave, and I didn’t say it.

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Architectural model of a house for a family of four plus one cat! Photo by Lily

Everyone just looked at me. As much as it was fun, it was a big deal to be so far on our first co-op, when we were both just 19. In terms of the language barrier, did you find other ways of communicating? LT: My office spoke very little English. So I had to draw out a lot of my questions for them on a sticky note. I was mainly modelmaking so I was cognisant that they were very particular about the details. I would have to draw it out and ask what they wanted. It was really tricky. Before I went to a store I’d have to google exactly what I needed to say. On one occasion when I had to order cakes, I had to draw a little pictogram of a cake in axo and write “times six, on Tuesday at 9 pm.” But the baker

YI MING WU + LILY TRAN

spoke French, so it went a lot better than I thought! YMW: I remember having this conversation with an old Japanese lady on the bus going to a tea farm. She spoke Japanese to me the whole time and I just kept nodding! She didn’t know how to use the bus, so it was like “let’s just do this together.” It was a lot of “just do it and try not to embarrass yourself too much.” Where else in Tokyo or other cities in Japan did you explore? LT: Within the downtown ring, we went to Harajuku a lot, and Omotesando. Harajuku is an area for the young, the fashionable, the ones who want to spend a lot of money. YMW: It’s like the counterculture of Tokyo.

View from Hakodate Mountain, photo by Yi Ming

PERIPATETIC MAGAZINE

YI MING WU + LILY TRAN

LT: It’s become a really huge tourist destination because of Takeshita street. It has a lot of alternative fashion and indie stores, so since I’m into fashion it was like a dream. There were so many crepe stands, which is a big thing in Harajuku especially. It’s also right next to Omotesando, which is where you get to the more boutique oneoff designers. It’s a much finer breakdown of streets so it feels more intimate, and you have more hole-in-the-wall restaurants. I went to Akihabara, which is the videogame district. In Harajuku, there aren’t many highrises—it’s like Sanrio with balloons. Akihabara is a bunch of highrises plastered with digital billboards of manga, anime, every fandom you could imagine. Arcade culture is huge. I remember I went to Akihabara with one of my co-workers. We played video games all night, and we weren’t the only ones. The arcades are open all night—they’re seven floors and people come after work to release stress. We would see people in their suits with their briefcases and think, “Wow, they are so good at all of these games!” A big part of the culture was that people would go drinking after work and sleep in bars, but some people would play video games instead. In terms of travelling, I did go to an island around nine hours away with a bunch of Tadao Ando buildings on it— the Naoshima and Teshima islands. That was maybe the best part of going to Japan: experiencing Tadao Ando’s work alone on a floating island. I got lost somewhere along the way, so I ended up arriving at

11pm at the boat port and it was completely dark because there was no street lighting. I needed to get to the other side of the island so my plan was to rent a bike from the only cafe there. I’m not the best at riding bikes, and on top of that the streets were extremely narrow. So I got onto the bike and crashed into a wall. The cafe owner came out and asked if I was okay, and I was like, “Yeah, I’m fine.” When I tried again, I crashed into the same wall! So the owner translated into his phone, “I’m very worried about you, I’m going to drive you to your friend.” I said, “Hai, arigato!” He drove me to the other side of the island and tried to give me a tour, saying things like, “Left, kindergarten, right, river!” It was pitch black and I couldn’t see anything. That’s how I made it to my Airbnb that night. YMW: I found urbanism in Japan really interesting. Most of Tokyo, unless you’re around Tokyo station, has traditional Japanese-style streets. Around Central station, you have these massive grids. I noticed that also in Hiroshima, where the entire city was wiped out. It’s a completely gridded city and doesn’t have that intimate scale as most traditional planned spaces have. There’s something about experiencing the city through walking that’s so interesting. The way you navigate those spaces changes your perception of the amount of time you’ve spent in each area. I want to mention the time I visited an Onsen town called Kusatsu. It’s north-west of Tokyo and it was a magical night getting

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there. I left Friday night after work and it was a four hour bus ride, so I arrived around midnight. As you’re approaching you go by these areas that all have onsens: it was dark and misty and there were all of these lights and water running and I thought it was the most beautiful thing. Most people go to Onsen towns to go to ryokan, these fancy hotels where they pamper you. I couldn’t afford that, but they had public baths, and one of them was open air. It was early in the morning—no one was out and I was listening to the water. Then it started snowing! I thought, “This is the most peace I’ll ever have in the next four years.” Japanese architecture is very distinctive. How do you feel about the architecture and design culture there?

LT: For me, I found it very liberating and invigorating. The process of designing and building, even from scratch, is extremely fast. In contrast to North America, you’re working on a project for five years, but in Japan, my projects were around five to eight months. They design with fewer constraints and do things we would find ridiculous, like remove half the roof, or make huge courtyards. Their regard for open-air spaces is amazing, like how the natural world can contribute to residential space. In Japan, they’re less environmentally conscious, so concrete is huge. You have a lot of freedom with geometries, like curved concrete walls that are done beautifully. Even safety is not a big concern, or accessibility. I was working on a nursery for children and their idea was that they’d make a

Section model of a restaurant interior, photo by Lily YI MING WU + LILY TRAN

Kusatsu Machi Onsen, photo by Yi Ming

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double height space, but the second floor would be floating in the middle, resting on bookshelves that the kids could play on. That design was approved in a week. It was so whimsical. Now looking back, I recognize why we don’t design in that way and of course we should design to be accessible and environmentally conscious. I would love to think about architecture that way again, but I feel like it would be an injustice to the design principles that I now hold. YMW: Even to this day I think about that question. Within those four months, I’d ask things in the office that helped me understand what that architectural culture is and why it’s different. There was something my manager said to me—he thought that as an architect in Japan, you have so many resources, you have such a wide range of details, of materials. The other thing I noticed from just observing them was that they would really finesse the details. Their obsession and dedication to architecture is crazy to me, but I think that this kind of culture in the office, as well as their ideologies in design are relatively good, because obviously great work comes out of it. Other than that, I did some general research and reading—Sou Fujimoto has a really great book called Primitive Future. I don’t think North Americans think the same way when it comes to architectural form.

Do you think these ways of designing are limited to Japan specifically? Could you use some of the things you learned in your own projects? LT: The agency, responsibility, and ownership the designers have is a huge factor in the treatment of their work, as well as their dedication. I haven’t experienced anything like that in North America. In terms of influencing my own workflow, yes, I do admire Japanese architecture a lot, for its simplicity, its use of light, for the living quality and symbiosis between the human and the natural environment. I think the whimsicality and the playfulness of the architecture does influence me, whether it’s through the representation or the geometry. Even in my most recent school project I was model-making, and when I was cutting up these super fine paper details, that was an ode to my time in Tokyo. That’s a common theme, that my love of detail has been exacerbated and supported by my work experience in Japan.

“I thought, ‘This is the most peace I’ll ever have in the next four years.’” YI MING WU + LILY TRAN

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becoming a berliner a conversation with jeffrey so Tell us about your internship in Berlin. Have you been able to explore the city despite the pandemic?

“The culture itself lends very well to people expressing themselves artistically.” 24

JEFFREY SO: I first came to Berlin three years ago—I worked in New York for a year, taking a year off from school, then I went to Berlin to do a 6-month internship. I had time to familiarize myself with the city. In particular, I found myself enjoying the techno scene. Before coming to Berlin, I knew I liked dancing and going to clubs, but I wasn’t really aware of the clubbing culture when I first came to the city. I dove straight into it and found a community that I really enjoyed. In Berlin, you’re able to dance without people bothering you, with space to move around and you can wear whatever you want. At the end of those six months PERIPATETIC MAGAZINE

During CTM Festival, Maria Thereza Alves and Lucrecia Dalt presented a sound experience that reacted to each participant’s location in the greenhouse. The Botanical Gardens as a whole are definitely worth a visit and if you bike along Schloßstraße on the way there, you’ll pass by the infamously weird Bierpinsel.

Botanical Gardens, Königin-Luise-Straße 6-8

it was a bittersweet goodbye, but I knew I would go back. Having that goal in mind, it felt very comfortable to return. Since I had some connections, it was much easier to find housing and settle in. It’s been interesting to see that, despite the pandemic, the clubbing scene continues—there are so many open air parties that happen in parks, and people will bring a gigantic bluetooth speaker and just play music. The techno scene isn’t the only reason why I’m in Berlin: there are so many other reasons, like worker’s rights, the low cost of living, and the welcoming expat community. What makes clubs in Berlin so special? Since Berlin has been a radical city until recent history, it feels like people are still fighting to keep the enclave of radical people living here in low-cost apartments. The culture itself lends very well to people expressing themselves artistically, but also giving them the space and the freedom to do it with lack of judgment. When people JEFFREY SO

first come to Berlin and they get into places like Berghain or Heideglühen, sometimes they’re shocked by what people are wearing, but for Berliners it’s very normal—you’d see people wearing this stuff on the street. I get away with so many outfits that I’d be uncomfortable to wear anywhere else. I think people who felt a bit ostracized elsewhere, or didn’t have the space to express themselves, come to Berlin. Do you find that radical culture translates into the work environment? Since architecture is very much an industry for the 1%—only wealthy clients are able to afford architects—it caters to a specific clientele. The tender process in Germany is different from that in North America: any big projects need to go through competitions, so you can’t have clients hiring privately. It goes into the public as an invited process, which is why a lot of architects and designers like to come to Berlin if they’re thinking of working in 25

Dorotheenstadt Cemetery, ChausseestraĂ&#x;e 126

James Turrell worked with the restoration architects of the cemeteryâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s modest chapel to create a permanent light installation. The program runs during sunset, and the cemetery grounds have many notable graves.

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Germany. In the everyday culture, compared to other conservative office cultures, Berlin might be kind of out there, but there’s an interesting dichotomy that happens too. People will dress one way in their everyday jobs, me included, but when you go to a club it’s a different story. People are very good at separating work and life. You can be professional, but still have the opportunity to express yourself outside of work. Were there any other norms or values that you either embraced or pushed away? I think the attitude toward race caused a bit of culture shock. People would ask me with real interest “Where are you from?” which would never happen in Canada since it’s not politically correct. Racism takes on a different form than it would in North America, and it’s been interesting to navigate that. In Berlin, the racial majority/ minority is people from Turkey, since there are a lot of Turkish immigrants. In terms of norms, drinking is very relaxed—that’s a European thing. I’ve also definitely become more comfortable in my skin. People are open about their bodies and giving other people space, which led me to accept myself. You mentioned you found a community of people in Berlin— was it easier to make friends there compared to New York or other places you’ve lived?

JEFFREY SO

You might think the language barrier would pose an obstacle, and to a certain extent it did, but a lot of Germans who come to Berlin are fluent in English and are willing to give you a chance. The problem I had in New York was that I’d meet a lot of people, but maintaining relationships was difficult since everyone’s schedules were booked. That’s what I liked about New York— everything was flexible and circuitous—but after a while it became tiring. In Berlin, it seems that people care a lot more. They’re serious about being on time—if you agree to have brunch with someone, you go, even if you don’t have time. I think that dedication to follow up was something that was missing in New York, so it was easier to make lasting friendships in Berlin. How has that kept up during the pandemic? For the first two months, I mostly stayed at home, which was really nice because I live in a shared flat with four others. We became really close, and we were one of the rare households that didn’t drive each other insane during the quarantine. In Berlin, housing can be quite expensive and/ or difficult to find, and if you’re earning minimum wage it’s less feasible to rent by yourself. A lot of people end up living in shared flats, and not only young people. If a family has rooms available in their apartment, people will come to live with them and they’ll be like a big family. It’s a very Berlin experience: the flats are quite large and have many rooms, but since the

rent is becoming more expensive there are a lot of living communities (Wohngemeinschaft, or WG for short). I’ve heard a lot about the presence of history in Berlin— do you think the way the city is handling its past is positive? The whole idea of ignoring versus acknowledging the past is interesting— I’ve talked to a lot of my German friends about this, and there’s a word (Vergangenheitsbewältigung) for the collective struggle to overcome the past, including the crimes of the Holocaust. In terms of rebuilding the city, the council makes a lot of decisions about what should or should not be acknowledged. Berlin was a half-destroyed city, so they did have to do a lot of reconstruction, and the Chamber of Architects in Berlin had to decide what projects were appropriate. The nightmare word for a lot of architects is Denkmalschutz, which means memorial preservation and the protection of history. It’s the most expensive department to go through. But I think that this is the process Berlin has to go through because of how pivotal a city it was in terms of Eastern and Western European politics. The city has been constantly fighting for pieces of buildings to be maintained, to respect the historic block structure and to follow certain architectural rules that are in place. Pieces of the Berlin Wall still stand and there are huge memorials, which is why the rest of Germany loves to hate Berlin, because so much

money goes into these so-called useless memorials. But they are useful, because people are talking about them. Berlin serves as a reminder to the world that “this happened here and we can’t forget about it.” It’s an interesting place because the city is constantly regenerating—there’s so much space left that’s like a grey zone. Tell us about exploring the city— are there very distinct areas? People always joke about East and West Berlin, which don’t exist anymore, but architecturally and infrastructurally you can tell the two apart. Since West Berlin was closed off, they were able to develop their subway system further, so it’s all served by the S- and the U-Bahn. When you go to East Berlin, the U-Bahn stops and you take another tram system instead. Each neighbourhood has a distinct architectural style—West Berlin was quite wealthy, so places in Charlottenburg or Schöneberg have flats built in a certain style that weren’t destroyed. These are called Altbau, or old buildings. In East Berlin, since there was a lot more destruction, you have Plattenbau, mid-rise slab buildings from the ‘60s. There are also areas like Karl-MarxAllee, which has a 12-lane street that goes straight from the TV tower to East Berlin, lined with these beautiful Russian tiled buildings. But the main types of buildings are the Altbau, the Plattenbau, and the Hochhaus or Neubau (new buildings), and each neighbourhood has a distinct distribution of each typology.

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“People always joke about East and West Berlin, which don’t exist anymore, but architecturally and infrastructurally you can tell the two apart.”

Küsterstraße

JEFFREY SO

This is a typical example of Plattenbau typology in Berlin, developed for public housing to address Germany’s housing shortage in the 1960s.

How have you learned about Berlin’s history? Conversations, books, movies?

I broke my toe after 3B and was in bed for two months—all I did was watch Babylon Berlin, which I would highly recommend. But the majority of the knowledge I’ve built up is from people at my workplace. There’s a whole set of building standards you have to learn in Germany, and there’s a history behind them. The other side comes from my German friends who talk about where they grew up or certain events they remember. It was a slow diffusion of knowledge, which doesn’t happen in a 4- or even 8-month co-op. I think it’s really valuable that Waterloo has a system that lets you stay somewhere longer if you want to defer for a year or two. At this point, I feel at home in Berlin. It’s been a process, but if you really like a place and envision yourself coming back, you take steps to make that happen. PERIPATETIC MAGAZINE

Another participatory event at CTM, Montreal artists Bill Vorn and LouisPhillipe Demers explored the liminal boundary between human and machine through wearable pneumatic exoskeletons programmed to an hour-long techno dance performance. I was selected to participate, and the robotic suit was equally comforting and concerning to have attached to me and move my body.

Radialsystem, Holzmarktstraße 33

Sauerbruch Hutton employs a healthy number of interns which makes it very easy to build a group of friends when first arriving. This was a farewell dinner for Janel (first on the left) at her favorite place to get Knödel. Afterwards we continued with drinks at nearby Villa Neukölln. Knödelwirtschaftswunder, Fuldastraße 33 JEFFREY SO

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three hours in every direction a photo essay by vincent chuang

The following images were selected from my travels around Central Europe last summer. Starting in Ljubljana, the capital of Slovenia, almost every weekend I departed from the Avtobusna Postaja bus station and explored a three-hour radius from the city center. To the north was Austria, bordering on the east was Croatia, the Adriatic Sea was to the south and Italy was to the west. The sites were memorable and I am counting down the days when I can pick up where I left off. 32

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Downtown Ljubljana VINCENT CHUANG

Train ride to Salzburg 34

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VINCENT CHUANG

Venice canals 36

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Waterfall at Plitvice lake in Croatia

Exiting the Skocjan caves in Slovenia VINCENT CHUANG

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olafur eliasson in beijing a conversation with sheldon chen Tell us about your co-op experience in Beijing. SHELDON CHEN: Beijing has a much higher population density than most cities in North America. The urban planning is more top-down. That means there’s a wellconnected and affordable public transit system, but once you exit public transit you need to walk a very long distance from the station to where you actually want to go. My favourite museum is far away from well-known tourist attractions like the Forbidden City or the Summer Palace. It’s in the countryside, an hour and a half away from Beijing. It’s called the Red Brick Museum. A lot of well-known artists have their exhibition curated by the museum if they’re touring around Asia. It’s fairly big—it used to be a brick factory in a 38

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Rainbow assembly, 2016

suburban area of the city. I went to see an exhibition by Olafur Eliasson. The entrance is really beautiful and somewhat like an amphitheatre, with a skylight above. The ground is paved with red brick. It feels industrial and classical at the same time, which is quite unique. The building sounds beautiful. What about the work shown in the exhibition? I think the most impressive installation was where you walk into a room with rain falling from the ceiling. The raindrops are small and you can feel it on your skin, but when you’re photographing you only see a blur on your camera, so it’s kind of a dual experience—you’re walking and you realize you’re in an atmosphere of rain, but when you’re taking photos you see people in a hazy cloud. The other one is “Map for unthought thoughts,” also part of the Olafur Eliasson show. It’s shown in the photo with shadows of people on the wall. SHELDON CHEN

It almost looks like the bird’s nest building by Herzog and de Meuron? It’s like you’re visiting the shadow of that building. There’s this old story where Plato says that all of humanity is living in a cave. What we see is only the shadows of real life happening outside. What philosophers are doing is walking out of the cave to the outside. They come back, and tell the

“It’s a dual experience—you’re walking and you realize you’re in an atmosphere of rain, but when you’re taking photos it you see people in a hazy cloud.” humans that we’re only seeing shadows, but nobody believes them. I think this artwork is reminiscent of that story. But it doesn’t feel like you’re in a cave—it feels like you’re walking in a bush or in a tropical forest. 39

Map for unthought thoughts, 2014

It’s interesting because the cave doesn’t seem like a cave, so it adds to the feeling of the people in the cave being ignorant. Do you think Olafur Eliasson created these artworks for Beijing, because it seems to resonate with the Bird’s Nest? The curator might have selected something that would appeal more to local audiences. Eliasson’s work is a lot about the relationship between human beings and Mother Earth, or other specific natural elements like the rain, sunshine, or rocky landscapes. He doesn’t actually use any natural materials,

but he gives you a feeling. He asks visitors to think about our relationship with the environment we’re living in. It’s a very immersive experience. The other artwork by him that I visited was about the sun. There was a large fluorescent light shining in orange, almost like afternoon sunshine, and the ceiling changed into reflective glass, so you could see a whole circle of light in the room. Everything in that room was orange. It kind of reminds me of the sun installation that he did at the Tate Modern, but it’s a totally different concept, a different way of visualising the sun.

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“[Eliasson] asks visitors to think about our relationship with the environment we’re living in. It’s a very immersive experience.“

It places the sun into a more intimate experience for the audience. It’s also different from a common experience of walking on a beach or something. It feels like you’re looking at the sun in a different way. It sounds like you discovered a really interesting museum! Overall, what did you think of the architecture in Beijing? I think Waterloo Architecture students might be critical of what’s happening in Beijing. The scale of urban transformation is quite different there. They’re building really fast, and they commission architects to do giant buildings without breaking it down and bringing more people into the conversation about the city’s public spaces.

skyscrapers on either side. When you’re taking a taxi it feels like you’re experiencing a monumental procession through the buildings. That experience is quite different from taking a taxi in New York, where you can see just the bottom three stories of every building. In Beijing, you can see the top of the skyscrapers because the roads are so wide. On the other hand, tourists who prefer to explore the city on foot might find blocks of preserved Huton neighbourhoods attractive for learning about traditional Chinese architecture and going to souvenir stores. I’d highly recommend spending a night in an affordable hotel located in one of the refurbished courtyards in the Huton neighbourhoods.

How did you usually get around the city? The city’s not great for pedestrians, partially because the roads are too wide: it can take 10 minutes to cross the road. From an urbanism standpoint, it gives you monumental boulevards with very tall

SHELDON CHEN

The unspeakable openness of things, 2018 42

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SHELDON CHEN

In comparison to Beijing, would you say that Chengdu, where you’re from, is more humanscale or pedestrian friendly?

It depends on which part of the city, actually. There’s a new-build area where they kind of replicate what’s happening in Beijing. But I lived in an older area of the city, and even though they refurbished many of the facades, the urban texture and context is still more intact. It’s not cut off by new wide streets, and the ancient road names are almost unchanged. Whereas in Beijing, after 1949, they wanted a new capital that was critical of its past as an imperial city. They wanted a utopia of communism, and that’s why they built the giant Tiananmen square with the new monuments for Mao in front of the old Forbidden City.

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Your sound galaxy, 2012

SHELDON CHEN

Yu Garden, Shanghai

Central Park, New York City 46

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east and west urbanisms a conversation with sophie fan You’ve been to New York for two co-ops. Was it different living there for a second time? SOPHIE FAN: I explored a different area. This term, I rented in Williamsburg, and last time, I was living in East Village. That was quite nice because it was around Union Square, between Midtown and Downtown. It’s a quiet spot in the middle of the big business districts. It’s quieter than Union Square, so it was a convenient spot to explore since you could go uptown or downtown from there. But this term, I lived in Williamsburg, which is where a lot of artists have their studios. A few of my co-workers have their own studios there. Then I moved to Jersey with my boyfriend, where it’s super quiet. SOPHIE FAN

Do you have a favourite spot in Manhattan? We went to Central Park a few times. In the summer we took boats out on the lake there. What do you do in your free time while on co-op? In New York, I went to museums: MoMA, MoMA PS1, and the MET. I spent a lot of time exploring the city because it’s so walkable and you can hop on the subway easily. During my co-op in Shanghai, I did a lot of photography because my mom and I had good cameras. We went to so many historical gardens and museums. I miss Shanghai a lot. It was my first time staying there—I went when I was quite small, but I don’t remember anything other than the Pearl Tower from that time. 47

Top: Shikumen Architecture Bottom: Shanghai Symphony Hall

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Wood model from Sophie’s Shanghai co-op

How does the city of Shanghai compare to Beijing? It’s very different—you don’t see as many foreigners living in Beijing, but in Shanghai many things are bilingual, so you can speak Mandarin and English more easily. A lot of foreigners like to work in Shanghai because they feel more familiar with the environment and everything is a bit more open-minded. Which areas of Shanghai did you explore? I lived in the French Concession district. We rented an apartment in a historic area which had been renovated so the interior was quite nice. It was neighbouring the school of

SOPHIE FAN

music. They had an auditorium so I would go in during performances and watch. Did you go to any other music performances during your coops? Or to any Broadway shows in New York? I didn’t go to a Broadway show but I wish I did. I haven’t found a show I really wanted to go to and it’s so expensive. But we went to a little jazz club at Columbus Circle. You know New York quite well— what areas did you enjoy visiting or visted frequently? I would say downtown, around the World Trade Centre, and the harbourfront. I would 49

Top: Yu Garden, Shanghai Centre: Street art, Shanghai Bottom: the Famous Shanghai Xiaolongbao Dimsum

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go on walks after work, grab a bite and sit around the waterfront. That area was really nice but has been gentrified so I don’t know if it’s my favourite place. Otherwise, the Guggenheim and around Midtown are great. I also love the area around the Smithsonian. It’s filled with museums: you have the MET (Metropolitan Musuem), the Guggenheim, the Cooper Hewitt Smithsonian, and Central Park. I would like to go back there. Neri Oxman, the director at the MIT Media Lab, has an exhibition at the MoMA coming up in August, so I hope I can go back there.

How did the working and living cultures differ in Shanghai and New York?

SOPHIE FAN

Where would you go in New York for food? There are so many places. SoHo is really great. It’s super close to Chinatown so if you want to get Chinese food there are a few good Szechuan restaurants, if you like spice. There is Koreatown in Midtown and we went to BCD Tofu House there. New York is so international: you can find pretty much any kind of cuisine. I recently went to a Spanish restaurant with my boyfriend around East Village. They were playing Spanish guitar, and there was traditional Flamenco dancing!

Although Shanghai has a much bigger population than New York City, it didn’t feel as crowded in a lot of popular cultural hot spots. For instance, I was living in the French Concession area, and biking to work felt very breathable, whereas in the NYC metro I felt like I was usually crushed between crowds. The scale of Shanghai roads are very bike friendly, and shaded with rich foliage from parasol trees. But both cities are collisions of cultures in terms of their food, architecture, and music.

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amsterdam anecdotes a conversation with vanessa sokic What did you enjoy about living in Amsterdam? VANESSA SOKIC: One thing that stands out is the bike culture. I was able to stay active because I’d bike half an hour to work. And I loved it—rain or shine, I would bike to work. That’s a Dutch thing to do! There’s a difference between Canadian rain and Dutch rain—it wouldn’t be a downpour, but there was this annoying mist that made you even more soaked because it got into everything. My co-workers and I would compare whose pants were more wet when we got to work! It’s interesting to compare bike cultures in different cities, because in Vancouver I noticed that everyone is so serious about it. In the Netherlands, people bike, it’s the norm. But in Vancouver, people get their 52

spandex on and they race to work, while there I am with my European mentality from the previous term, biking down Burrard Bridge in a skirt. I found the people in Amsterdam very friendly, so I never felt unwelcome. Especially when I said I was Canadian! My experience was also made so much better because of the apartment I stayed in. It’s amazing how the place you stay can impact your time in the city. First of all, it was beautiful—the person we rented it from was an interior decorator. It was just one room, and there was a beautiful balcony where we could sit out and eat dinner and listen to the parakeets that had overrun the area. People would release their pet parakeets when they didn’t want them anymore, and there were enough released that they started a PERIPATETIC MAGAZINE

Parakeets flying outside the apartment

“I learned a lot more than I would have if they hadn’t been so blunt. ‘Dutch honesty’ is a thing!” VANESSA SOKIC

The apartment in Amsterdam Oost

parakeet colony! That apartment was my favourite memory of living in Amsterdam. It was really difficult to find—we landed this place five hours before I flew out of the country. I can’t stress how important it is to start searching for apartments early! That’s definitely good advice! How was the work culture at your office? We’d have lunch together every day at the same time. We’d take turns, so someone would set the table, someone would go out to get fresh bread—because day-old bread is sacrilegious there—and lunch would be provided. At FABRICations it was the first time that I became friends with my coworkers outside of the office. There were a few younger people who had recently graduated and other interns in and out, and we’d go to bars and places after work. I even went to concerts with a few of them. In terms of working, I learned a lot more than I would have if they hadn’t been so blunt. Dutch honesty is a thing! And I love it, 54

I need someone to say to me, “No, this isn’t good, do it again.” I’m not someone who would get personally insulted by that. It’s a different way of interacting than in North America. The other thing I really loved was that there were no big box grocery stores: it was all medium and small markets. They’re scattered throughout the city, so there’s always one close to you. I enjoyed the mentality of picking up ingredients every day for dinner rather than doing larger weekly trips to stock up as I would in Canada. Tell us about travelling around the Netherlands and Europe. Where did you go? Seeing Amsterdam was more for weekday evenings, then weekends were used to travel outside the Netherlands, or to different cities within the Netherlands. We had Eurail passes which we got on sale. I went a couple times to Belgium—we went to Bruges and Ghent, as well as to Antwerp just to enjoy the train station. I went on a separate weekend to Brussels but only to PERIPATETIC MAGAZINE

see the Magritte Museum. I loved it: he’s my favourite artist. I went to Cologne, in Germany, and to France a couple times to visit Paris and St. Malo. I also visited Jersey Island, which has the second-most fluctuating tides in the world, second to the Bay of Fundy. What about within the Netherlands? You know what, I’m ashamed—I never made it to Rotterdam. But a friend and I biked

all the way to Utrecht. It was around 50 km and it was amazing! There are really good bike paths connecting all the cities, so you can easily bike across the country. We stopped in little towns along the way, and those towns were where the people were the friendliest. There was one person we met who invited us to a church and gave us a tour. My friend even got to play the organ, so we learned what “pulling out all the stops” meant!

“There was this annoying mist that made you more soaked than if it were a downpour because it got into everything.”

Hoge Veluwe Park VANESSA SOKIC

Any funny stories or memorable experiences in Amsterdam? There were always jokes in the office. I remember one time someone was explaining something to me in Adobe Illustrator and I was shocked that I hadn’t known it. They asked me “How did you not know that?” and I said, “How am I supposed to know what I don’t know?” They thought it was hilarious! The next day I came to work and found a paper taped to my computer saying “How am I supposed to know what I don’t know?” And that was up for the rest of the term. Then there are stories of incidents biking through the city. One time I was biking and I rang my bell at a pedestrian because she crossed the bike path in front of me, and I had to stop. Then she came up to me and hit me! That’s very aggressive! What areas in Amsterdam did you like to explore? I biked through Centraal every day for work, so I got enough of it then. We lived in Oost, the East, so we were close to Oosterpark and we would go to bars and restaurants around there. There are lots of outdoor spaces and parks. I found I often didn’t have a destination and would just bike around. It was really easy to navigate because the city is organized in rings, almost like a spider web, and if you make a wrong turn you’ll be able to correct yourself.

What about museums? Did you visit a lot? So many museums! In the Netherlands you can sign up for a Museumkaart, where you pay once and you get it for a year. It’s worth it even if you go to just a few museums, so it’s easy to have it pay off. I went multiple times to the Rijksmuseum and the Van Gogh Museum. We went to the Hermitage Portrait Gallery, and in the Jewish Quarter there’s the Rembrandt House Museum. Do you have any tips for travelling on a budget? In Belgium my wallet was stolen because I was naive and I was wearing a backpack in a crowded place—so don’t do that! It’s a funny story: a year later when I was with Lola’s 3B studio in the North, I got a Facebook message from a guy in Belgium who said he found my old driver’s license! He was a sewage worker and found it in the sewer, and he mailed it back to me so I could destroy it. It came back smelling so bad! Did you pick up any souvenirs to remember all the cities you’ve been to? I try to buy something that I’ll actually use a lot, and that will be my way to remember my time in the city. In Amsterdam that was a raincoat.

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Top: Bruges, Belgium Centre: “How am I supposed to know what I don’t know?” Bottom: Amsterdam Noord

VANESSA SOKIC

new horizons: amsterdam and beyond Why did you choose to go to Amsterdam for co-op? In high school, I read a book about the city’s cycling culture called “In the City of Bikes: the Story of the Amsterdam Cyclist.” It’s about a couple from Portland who took over a bike shop in Amsterdam, which sounded pretty nice to me! I love riding bikes and I found that once I returned to Canada I didn’t like cycling as much anymore, where I had to cycle on the side of roads and highways right next to trucks.

“When you’re exploring a city, you pick up on things that you can’t read in a book.” 58

Your 3B studio project was to redesign downtown Barrie, where you live. Did your proposal include better bike infrastructure?

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Bruges, Belgium

Yes! I was thinking about the woonerf—the living streets—where cars are guests on the road, rather than the mentality here, where it’s considered jaywalking if you walk on the street. I tried to implement that in my project, so a lot of the streets would be pedestrianized. That being said, I don’t think my design would be well-received in Barrie, where people are attached to their cars. Everything is very well-connected in the Netherlands. I lived right next to the train station in Amsterdam, which was my gateway to the rest of the continent. Here in Barrie, if you want to take the GO train to Toronto, you’d have to leave at 5:30 am to get there for your 8:30 am job. Speaking of your travels in Europe, did you have any memorable trips? It was my first time overseas, so I wanted to see as much as possible. I could have stayed within the Netherlands to explore the country, but instead I bought a Eurail pass so I could take trains to other countries for

free or for a low cost. A few of us were in Europe that term and bought that pass, so it was an incentive to leave every weekend for two months. It was exhausting, since I usually went for the whole weekend! I’d leave on Fridays after work with my packed bag and return at the latest on Monday morning. Did you plan the trips out in advance? Sometimes they were spur of the moment, while for others I was meeting up with family, which required more coordination. I’d usually go with friends who were working in Amsterdam or France and we’d decide where to go as a group. A memorable trip was to Ghent, where it was amazing to see the Ghent Altarpiece in person. Once I went by myself to Aachen—I’d studied the cathedral in art class and wanted to see it. I had 48 hours in the city, but I learned that I don’t like that kind of travelling where there is pressure to see everything in a limited amount of time. In the 59

Top: Ghent, Belgium Centre: Cologne, Germany Bottom: Cologne after an Oktoberfest celebration

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future, I’d like to spend more time in each place just to ramble and explore by walking. But to do that, you need to give yourself time to slow down. In Aachen, since I went by myself, I felt more free to spend time just walking around. When you’re exploring a city, you pick up on things that you can’t read in a book, like how the streets are laid out: bike lanes, the width of a road, how urban elements interact with each other, even how the trash is picked up. These things become internalized when you experience them first-hand and through daily life, but you notice them more when you compare them to North American cities. That goes back to my project for the redesign of downtown Barrie: I was able to draw on places I’d visited. In a way, all the travel experiences filled up my imagination and became precedents for the project. Were you able to get a grasp on the layout of each city after spending just a brief time there? It’s so much easier when there aren’t skyscrapers in the way! That way you can see those monumental landmarks that help guide you. It was fun to explore non-gridded streets for once.

Did you visit any seaside towns or beaches, like Sheveningen in the Hague? The closest I got to the sea was Den Helder, which was so bizarre because it felt like the end of the earth. When we visited, the streets were empty—it turned out it was the day of a big football match and everyone was at home watching! When we were walking around at night, we saw something massive looming in the distance. As we got closer, we realized it was the dikes! The whole city is under sea level and they pushed the earth against the sea to protect it. It’s like a huge fortress surrounding the city. Did you pick up any Dutch when you were there? A little bit. It’s a funny language! What I found really interesting was how the language was so tied to geography and that there was a gradient—the Netherlands is between Germany and England and has a lot of similarities to those languages, then in Belgium there’s Flemish which starts to blend into French as you go south. What did you take away from your travels, both physically and mentally? I still have the train stubs! But overall it was a great opportunity to expand my horizons, and to know I could do it.

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OLD GOLD MOUNTAIN in Chinese was the nickname for San Francisco in the late 19th century when the city was the dream job destination for mining gold.

old gold mountain a conversation with iris ip Which has been your favourite co-op city so far? And why? IRIS IP: I would say San Francisco. Aside from exploring the city, I learned a lot at the firm and was involved with the people there. I got to be more independent, and also connected with my landlord’s family and their friends. I haven’t made those connections in past co-ops. Where were you living in San Francisco? I was living in the Sunset area, a 30-minute streetcar ride from downtown. I rented a room in a house with 10 other rooms. The house was frequented a lot by family relatives and neighbours, and the interior was full of decorations, ornamental furniture and candles. At first, my parents were 62

worried because I had only met the family through the internet. In the end, I found that they were good people. When exploring the city, did you plan where you would go, or did you wander and get lost? I planned it out in advance, especially during the first two months because I wasn’t familiar with the area and didn’t want to stay out after dark. I usually looked at a map, and since I didn’t have a car, I had to rely on public transport. Did you find any hidden gems? Yes! There’s a trail in the Sunset area, close to Sunset Beach on the west side. The beach has a trail through the mountains that leads to the Golden Gate Bridge. It was quite long, two or three hours. I also walked PERIPATETIC MAGAZINE

San Franciscoâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s ocean breeze

IRIS IP

Now how do I get down?

across the Golden Gate Bridge (quite scary) and later on I visited the small town, Sausalito, thatâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s on the other side. Did you get off the island to visit other places? I visited places like Berkeley and Half Moon Bay. When my family came at the end of August for summer vacation, we rented a car and drove around the city. We drove through the Bay Area and went to Fremont, Mountain View, and San Jose.

Did you go to any museums or exhibitions in San Francisco? I went to the De Young Museum designed by Herzog de Meuron, which was in the Golden Gate Park. Directly across was the California Academy of Sciences designed by Renzo Piano. There were live animals inside, as well as dome-shaped skylights, and two additional glass domes on the inside, one for the rainforest and one for the Planetarium. I also went to the SFMoMA in the downtown area, but I enjoyed the

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building more than the art, like the detailing on the stairs. I also visited Lombard Street. If you look on a map, you see a squiggly line and all the cars line up just to have fun going down. There are people living there, too, on both sides of the curve. They get really annoyed by tourists not adhering to the stop signs. I was one of those touristsâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;I was standing in the middle taking pictures! After I walked around the area, I had to go down the hill again so I took the cable car. You can stand

IRIS IP

up and hold a pole facing the edge, and you can literally step right out. That day, I took the cable car to Chinatown. It was cool because San Francisco has the oldest Chinatown in North America. They have a really big Chinese community. Where was your favorite place to eat in San Francisco? There was a Chinese bakery on the street where I lived. A lot of stores have sushi or bubble tea or buns. Poke bowls are a very common lunch with a bubble tea.

You saw the West coast from the American side in San Francisco and also went up to do a co-op in Vancouver—did you notice any major differences or similarities?

How do San Francisco and Vancouver compare in terms of urbanism?

Vancouver is visibly smaller, with a lower population density. The downtown area has a lot of attractions and you can go see the water or the mountains. The scale of Vancouver is easier to handle. It’s also cleaner, and the directions are more clear. San Francisco is older and it’s harder to establish networks, but you get used to it.

In San Francisco, there’s a mixture of historic buildings in the downtown core, and then it expands around the whole bay with suburbs. The entire downtown is a massive hill with several peaks, and neighbourhoods are built into these hills. It’s quite divided: the richer areas are on the top and the poorer areas are in the valleys. In Vancouver, the downtown area is for tourists and the surrounding neighbourhoods are all residential. All the museums and parks are downtown. You need a car to get to the mountains, trails, and fantastic outdoor scenery.

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This picture was taken like any other tourist with no respect of traffic

A view of the city in the fog IRIS IP

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an exercise in geography reflections by derrick clouthier From North to West: A Road Trip from Ontario to Alberta Crossing Canada was an exercise in geography: cliff, rock, water, and sand. Many students choose to do their co-op in Canada for convenience and the chance to earn a decent income. I accepted a position in Canada to catch up with old friends, tie off loose ends, and return to the mountains I love. The road trip was a hidden bonus. Most Southern Ontarians think they know the province but haven’t been above Muskoka. They haven’t experienced the rocky shield, the stunning 68

lakes, or the primordial cliffs that command the landscape. They haven’t glimpsed the endless expanse of fields, or spent hours between towns, sensing the uncertainty that a sailor might feel when they can’t see land. This feeling settles onto drivers who watch hours tick away without a hint of human life beyond the headlights of other cars, like ships passing in the night. The prairie was broken only by vast ravines scarring the earth. Driving north, I felt like I was entering into the unknown. We set out from a tiny town just outside of Barrie. Winding our way north, we settled into the familiar rhythm of a road trip: the flashing scenery, the music spilling out of PERIPATETIC MAGAZINE

The drive to Calgary DERRICK CLOUTHIER

Drumheller, Alberta 70

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the stereo, and the carefully maintained cabin. Every item was organized and we used up every bit of space. The back seats were folded down and packed tightly with suitcases, monitors (a rare luxury on co-op), bedding, kitchenware, and hiking gear. In the cabin, Sarah and I filled the passenger seats, the cup-holders held two water bottles, and the side doors held maps, snacks, CDs, and spare chords. At Sarah’s feet lay our provisions: Cliff bars, extra water, Advil, gum, and everything else we needed for the road. Tucked behind my seat was my camera gear, ready in an instant for animal sightings or spectacular views. As we drove, the landscape filled in, trees replacing buildings, and the first inklings of the rocky shield were revealed in small juttings and peaks. We travelled through Muskoka, Parry Sound, French River, and up to Sudbury. Sudbury is called the Gateway to the North for good reason: the city felt like the last outpost of the familiar. Driving past Sudbury on a rainy day, we followed the ON-17 which winds along Lake Huron. Here the road carves between the shores of the lake and the dense old growth of Canada’s north. It was trance-like, falling into the serenity of being totally surrounded by nature. The beauty of the North appeared in the shift from forests, farms, and lakes surrounded by cities, to towns dwarfed by the surrounding nature. From the safety of our cabin, we flew through miles of endless forest.

DERRICK CLOUTHIER

Thunder Bay’s population is over 100,000, and its downtown is similar to many other less wealthy cities in Ontario. The harbour is home to a massive concrete grain storage—a sister to Collingwood’s—and is beautiful in its own way. Sitting by the water, you can watch massive ships pass through the water. The shadow of Sleeping Giant, a giant rock formation, can be seen from most vantages and it lends to the city’s feeling of isolation. We went to a restaurant that had astoundingly good Thai food, despite

“Sudbury is called the Gateway to the North for good reason: the city felt like the last outpost of the familiar.” the dated decor. In the morning, we visited a locally owned café that reminded me of places in downtown Toronto. Overall, we found Thunder Bay to be a wonderful, resilient community that was lively despite its isolation. From Thunder Bay we continued north, determined to break out of Ontario. It’s easy to feel claustrophobic crammed into a car seat for days on end, making it especially important to travel with good company and good entertainment. The final stretch between Thunder Bay and Manitoba was one of the hardest. We went for hours without seeing a town, and running out of gas became a constant paranoia. Not far beyond the border, the dense forests

suddenly gave way to open prairie. When we entered Manitoba, the speed limit changed from 90 to 110, and after days on the road the difference felt astronomical. We didn’t love Winnipeg, to be honest. We liked the speed limits and the possibility of seeing polar bears. But Manitoba also has Snake Pits, so let’s just say it wasn’t my favorite province. Continuing into Saskatchewan, we decided on a whim to stop in Regina, which was an amazing

surprise. The older streets were lined with trees, forming a complete green canopy. We had the best coffee on our trip at 33 1/3, a place I cannot recommend enough. The next day, we took a detour: Saskatchewan is well known for its endless prairie, but we had discovered a hidden oasis of sand dunes. We spent a few hours exploring, climbing hills, following tracks, and stumbling across a rare species to boot.

Passing into Alberta isn’t normally dramatic, since the prairie just gives way to more prairie. But we lucked out, stumbling into one of Alberta’s lesser known gems: the Badlands. Invisible from the horizon, we found ourselves descending into its sparse ravines, witnessing some of the most amazing rock formations I’ve ever seen. And then all too soon, the winding road led back into the prairies. By now we were exhausted, and relieved to finally arrive in the city. The last hours of weaving our way downtown and finding our apartment were a blur. We made our way to Clive Burger, a staple of Calgary and one of the best burgers around. Just one more burger after a road trip filled with unhealthy meals, countless hours in the car, and wonderful memories.

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Great sand hills, Saskatchewan DERRICK CLOUTHIER

Top: Plain of Six Glaciers Bottom: Icefield Parkway

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Walking Among Giants: Reflections in the Rockies

I like endings. In life too often we are faced with the unknown, but co-ops have a definitive end, in the form of a date stamped on a return ticket or laid out in our contracts. Each co-op forms a time capsule, a flashing of events captured between stills. Each is a record of fleeting moments spent somewhere new, with the awareness of time constantly passing. This has always driven me, adding weight to each decision. It makes the 6 am starts easier, the aching muscles feel more like an accomplishment than a hindrance, and the air taste that much better every time I can escape somewhere new. What follows is a collection of thoughts and images—a time capsule, even—of how I spent the last few months of 2019, as my co-op term drew to a close. After 3,303 km and 882 days, I found myself in my old home: the valley of the giants. I breathed in the familiar air and enveloped myself in the violent upheaval of stone surrounding me, standing in the footsteps of another version of myself. The last time I left this place, I had no idea when I would return, or who would still be here. That was a month before my interview at Waterloo, and in the last two years I’ve grown to be almost unrecognizable to my DERRICK CLOUTHIER

former self. Yet here I was, thrown back in time, retracing my steps. I can’t explain the feeling of peace that came over me when I reached the top of a ridge. I was enveloped by a roaring silence and felt the warmth of my own insignificance. Breathing the clear air, aware of the chilling wind that threatened to rip me off my perch, I stood in the in-between. The ridge was a constantly morphing creature that—in any instant—could roll in an obscuring fog, rain down a whirlwind of hail, rumble with thunder, or, in a moment’s notice, clear to utter silence. The sheer show of force, beauty, and warmth, in unison, made me aware of my place in the universe. This is where I feel most at peace and most at home. After 882 days, four countries, and what feels like a lifetime away, I stepped back to a place I always knew I would return to, but never knew when it would happen. Here, rediscovering my connection to nature, I looked eagerly to the next step, the next kilometre, and the next journey, starting with a long descent from the mountain top.

Pocaterra ridge in late fall 76

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DERRICK CLOUTHIER

Brussels and Back Word to the wise: don’t book a bus at 3 am. My first weekend in the Netherlands was decided on a whim. My office had a four day workweek, and after struggling through a week of minimal sleep and a startling amount of cappuccinos (thanks, jet-lag), I finally made it to the weekend. But instead of catching up on sleep or easing my way into my new life for the next few months, Sarah and I decided at 3 am, in a haze of jet-lag, caffeine crash, and optimism, to book a return trip to Brussels for our first weekend in Europe. We packed until 4 am, slept until 8 am, and reached the bus terminal at 9 am, only to be told that I could not board because both tickets were in Sarah’s name. A quick and frustrating bribe later, and we were on our way. I can’t say I’m a fan of Flixbus. But before you knew it, we were in Brussels.

After an hour’s walk through the city, we arrived at the address of the hotel. But did it exist? We couldn’t see any hotel, just an art gallery. Another traveller was waiting outside, an American student, and we struck up a conversation. Finally, after a long wait, a wonderfully eccentric man came running down the street apologizing. His English was about as good as my French, which is to say negligible. Our “hotel” turned out to be an art gallery whose upper floors wound with a series of curtains mounted on plywood, making a rough approximation of walls. The rooms were decorated with art from the gallery below. A paper maché swordfish graced our headboard, and our lamp was a sculpture of a sunflower. We had lucked ourselves into the most interesting room in the city!

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Grand Place, Brussels DERRICK CLOUTHIER

Lille, France

Over the next few days we learned a whirlwind of information about our eccentric host. He was somewhat of an accomplished artist, with exhibitions in New York, Berlin, and more. He slept in the basement when guests were booked upstairs, and based on what we heard from our American friend, he had more than a small love of drugs. Overall, we knew him as the friendliest of hosts, who often drank with mysterious and curious friends in his gallery.

of tightly packed cobbled streets and large squares with charming period architecture. We discovered beautiful churches and shops, and we were surrounded by the unbelievably enticing smell of fries and waffles. We wandered through the city, from the unimaginably immense building of the Palais de Justice to a tiny café with smugglers’ tunnels dating back to the middle ages, to antique markets jammed with wonderful objects.

Leaving our new home behind, we set out to explore Brussels. From the North Station, where we first arrived, it looks like a modern city—full of high rises, government buildings, and large infrastructure. But as we marched through the city, it slowly transformed into an interconnected web

In the evening, our American friend joined us for dinner at a beer hall. We sampled an incredible selection of beers—primarily Lambics, an ancient style where beer is left out on massive thin metal pans and allowed to ferment in the open, bacteria freely reacting with the mixture. The tasting

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â&#x20AC;&#x153;As we marched through the city, it slowly transformed into an interconnected web of tightly packed cobbled streets.â&#x20AC;?

notes were sour, often mixed with fruit, and completely different from the sours we were accustomed to. We gorged on a board of cheeses, breads, and meats, each of which was better than the last. Afterwards, we continued exploring the tightly packed streets, gazing in bars and watching the night go by. We tried hot wine, an incredible concoction of heated wine mixed with spirits and orange slices. Finally we stumbled upon the Grand Place: a dazzling array of decorative buildings, illuminated golden in the night. The craftsmanship of the sculpture that adorned the buildings was incredible, and every inch of the square was bordered by intricate opulence. The next morning, after a memorable breakfast of waffles, we headed for Cantillon: a small brewery over a hundred years old, Passageway in Amsterdam DERRICK CLOUTHIER

Old England department store, Brussels 82

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still making lambics the traditional way. As I found out the night before, making lambic is all about the wild fermentation, which means bacteria, and the more the better. In other words, the breweries are never cleaned. All around us stood dustcovered shelves, ancient stained barrels and decaying wood. It would have been an eerie sight, but the atmosphere was jovial, full of drinking, chatting, and the rattle of glasses. That evening, we ran into our American friend who invited us out with some others. What followed was an endless blur—we made fast friends with people from France, Belgium, Iceland, the US, and the UK. We got lost in the dark clamorous rooms of beer halls with rich dark wood tables, countless flags, posters, signs, and beer memorabilia. At some point the night ended with a fervent search for fries piled high with toppings. We got back to our hotel around 6 am. I wish I could say the next morning was smooth, but as we stumbled out of the hotel minutes before checkout, we found ourselves in sunlight that was suddenly way too bright. It was Sunday and the streets were mostly dead. The whole city seemed to be asleep. Eventually, we made our way to the bus terminal to await our ride home. We waited and waited, until worry started to set in. What if it didn’t come? Could we get back in time for work the next day? I checked our tickets again, and my heart sank. In our hazy state we had booked a return journey, but we had mistaken 6 am for 6 pm. Now

DERRICK CLOUTHIER

the panic really set in. We rushed into the North train station, but no ticket machines were in sight. The only way forward was through closed rotating gates, and men with machine guns were all over. We had grown used to the surprisingly high military police presence in Belgium, but it was still unnerving. Finally, we found a terminal. As Sarah threw her card into the machine and clicked away a man approached. Sarah got the tickets, but as she moved to grab them, the man quickly moved. What followed was a confusing blur. By the time I’d turned around he was already holding her phone, but Sarah had noticed, too. He stood still, realizing we knew what was happening, and most likely in fear of the police all around he handed her phone back and ran off. After that ordeal, we had less than two minutes before our train arrived, and no idea where our terminal was. In a mad rush we wound our way through the station and by sheer luck arrived as the train was about to depart. We jumped aboard and were on our way. It wasn’t quite over yet: by the time we reached the correct station we only had ten minutes to figure out how to purchase tickets to Rotterdam and board the train. By the time we finally reached the ticket window, we weren’t even sure they would still sell us tickets. Somehow, incredibly, we made it onto our train. My heart was beating intensely. Eventually I relaxed, and we arrived back in Rotterdam.

Erasmus Bridge, Rotterdam 84

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DERRICK CLOUTHIER

Antwerp, Belgium

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By 10 pm we had settled back into our apartment, exhausted and weary, but elated with our first adventure. Very little had gone to plan, and we’d had our fair share of frustration, confusion, and stress. But in the end, all the bad moments were outweighed by our adventure made with new friends in a city I’d never imagined I would visit. That’s the beauty of co-op—the unknown, the unexpected, and the brilliant opportunities of movement.

With friends in Berlin DERRICK CLOUTHIER

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a taste of hong kong a conversation with salina lee Where have you done co-ops so far? Which has been your favourite? SALINA LEE: My first co-op was in Toronto, the second in New York, the third in Hong Kong, and then this time Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m back in Toronto. The first one in Toronto was an older office, so the people there were more reserved and had families. For the second one the office was a lot younger and there were more gatherings. They liked to talk about things other than work. In Hong Kong, I thought I would be comfortable because they speak my native language, but the pace of the work is a lot faster than Canada so I was struggling to catch up a lot of the time. Because I was working for a smaller firm, I had a lot more responsibilities, which came with more pressure. It was a 88

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On top of Victoria Peak

good experience, but you have to get used to the pace there. What was it like working in a faster-paced environment? Right now, I usually wait two or three days for a client to comment back. Or if I send them a presentation, I wait a whole day for corrections and changes. Over there, I was told right away what needed to be changed. Also, they expected new things to be done every single week. But you have more contact with the construction and mechanical crews and you talk to everyone on a first hand basis. Whereas here, I talk to my supervisor, my supervisor gives my work to the boss, the boss reviews it and gives it to the client, the client makes comments, gives it back to the boss, then to the supervisor, my supervisor gives it to me to correct it, and so on. There’s a whole chain involved and it often takes two weeks to get a presentation out. Over there, when I’m done, I send it off. It’s a much faster process. Overall, Hong

SALINA LEE

Kong has longer work hours, but the night culture is really big—everyone goes out after work at 9 or 10 pm. What kinds of things did you do when you went out? A lot of it was meeting up with friends and other students. It’s so convenient to grab food in Asia. There are always places for food down the street or around the corner. Sometimes I would have big family gatherings that would go on quite late. Where are your favourite places for food in Hong Kong? That’s hard! My cousin took me lots of places because she’s a real foodie and loves exploring. The best thing to do is to go out at night and hop around the different food stalls. You can go to a shop and grab a bite of food, then go to another one. It’s not a night market but you can buy small dishes of food everywhere and it’ll make you full. It’s very cheap and convenient.

Hong Kong Harbour

Do you have any hobbies while on co-op? When I have time, I like to take vacations. I took a few days off to go to Taiwan on the weekend. It was my third time going there, but my first time planning the trip myself. There was a lot of planning involved because you want to get as many things done as possible in a short amount of time. The pace of life is similar to Hong Kong— everyone walks with a purpose. And food is also super convenient to get. I definitely recommend getting tea eggs at the 7/11s in Taiwan.

How did your impression of Hong Kong change during your co-op from any previous experiences visiting? My previous visits were mostly with my mom to stay with extended family. During those visits, my extended family took care of everything, including bills and food. I definitely see Hong Kong differently now that I’ve experienced living there on my own. Before, I could see myself living and working there, since I’ve always wanted to work in Asia, and Hong Kong seemed like the easiest transition. But after working there for four months, I realize that the culture might not be my style. The pace is quite fast there and the hours get so long that I personally don’t find there’s enough time for yourself. PERIPATETIC MAGAZINE

â&#x20AC;&#x153;The best thing to do is to go out at night and hop around the different food stalls.â&#x20AC;?

Taiwanese fried chicken

Rainbow building in Hong Kong SALINA LEE

Richmond Park

Hyde Park 92

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london: green not grey a conversation with nidi metaj What has your favourite co-op been so far? NIDI METAJ: Hands down, my favourite so far has been the London co-op. The first three co-ops I did were all at large corporate firms, but the London one stood out because the city and the co-workers made a big difference. And it was summer, so I got a lot of travelling done. I think everyone has enjoyed London! Where did you travel? Almost every weekend I’d go to a different museum or art gallery in London, then every other weekend we’d go to a different city. So I got to visit Brighton, Oxford, Bath, Southend-on-Sea . . . But every weekend, I spent a lot of time exploring the city. I visited all the major parks in London: Hyde Park, NIDI METAJ

Regent’s Park, Victoria Park, Greenwich Park, Richmond Park, and Kew Gardens. How did you get around the city—did you usually take the tube or did you walk? My work was pretty far from my home— it was more than an hour’s walk. In the mornings I’d try to take the bus because it’s always nicer to have a view and it’s cooler temperature-wise. If I got up later, I’d take the tube because it was much quicker. It was only four or five stops but way more crowded and sweaty. It was probably 35 degrees down in the tube, with no air conditioning or anything. After work, I usually walked home to save some money, since transport was so expensive. It was also just nice walking through the city, and my 93

Left: Hampstead Heath Bottom: Greenwich Park

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Top: Richmond Park Centre: Regentâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Park Bottom: Chiswick House and Gardens

NIDI METAJ

Kew Gardens

route was through Oxford Street—a pretty major avenue. How does the tube compare to the TTC and the New York metro? The tube in London was much tighter and smaller than North American trains, and it’s older too. The TTC is the cleanest out of the three—it’s more modern—whereas New York’s is probably the filthiest and smells the worst. London falls somewhere in between the two. I felt like it was easier to get around in London than in New York, even though New York does have a pretty extensive subway system as well. It was just more enjoyable to travel in London.

Which museums did you see in London? Did you visit any cool exhibitions? I went to them all! The amazing thing about London was that all public museums were free. Almost every weekend we’d go somewhere—I went to the British Museum, the Tate Modern, the Design Museum, Sir John Soane’s Museum . . . Since you’d never been before, would you say your expectations of London matched up to what you actually experienced? I would say London pleasantly surprised me. I expected it to be cloudy and rainy and dreary all the time, but it was nothing like that. I thought it would be more grey and

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full of concrete, like New York, but I was surprised by how much greenery there was, especially in the summer. Almost all the major streets are tree-lined and parks are scattered everywhere throughout the city. Did you bring home any souvenirs? Actually, the one thing I didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t do in London was buy souvenirs. I did buy this yellow teeshirt because our company had a dragon boat race and was competing against other engineering and architecture firms.

You were actually in the boat, racing? Yeah! We got absolutely soaked. No one had ever done it before, but the people in front of us were really bad and when they were pushing the paddles theyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;d pull them up way too high and inwards, so it would scoop the water into the boat. A classmate also working at the firm and I were at the very end of the boat, so everyone would splash us.

Dragon boat team at Woodberry Reservoir NIDI METAJ

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living danishly a conversation with rushali patel You’ve done co-ops in four different countries—which has been your favourite so far? RUSHALI PATEL: I’m so conflicted! Calgary and Copenhagen are tied for first place. I really enjoyed the work-life balance in Calgary, and I was working with really good people. On the weekends, I left the city and experienced amazing landscapes. Calgary is big enough that it has a vibrant design scene, but it’s small enough that you know everyone in it. It felt really good to be part of the young energy in the city. Copenhagen is also tied for first place, despite being there during the pandemic. Denmark was one of the countries that responded the fastest, so the lockdown wasn’t as intense. The lifestyle is so good— bike everywhere and there are really great View from Rushali’s bedroom window 98

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At the” lakes,” Copenhagen

parks and public spaces. Living here has started to feel normal for me. Tell us about your lifestyle now! I like relying on a bicycle to get around, instead of a bus or train schedule or a car. The “new normal” is also having lots of free time. A good work-life balance is important in Denmark. If it’s 3pm and you’re done with your work, you’re not expected to hang around afterwards. If you’re done, just go home! Even though you work fewer hours, your time is valued and you learn to be very efficient. In more metropolitan cities like New York, it’s a game of who can stay the longest, but that’s not the case here. It’s been especially nice because after work you can do things since the office is located on the harbour. If it’s sunny outside, you just bring your bathing suit to work and jump into the water at the end of the day. There is even a crew of people at the office that jump in at lunch. I love the hygge lifestyle which is about being cozy, whether by lighting a candle in the evening or filling a RUSHALI PATEL

room with the warmth of laughter during a dinner party. It’s entirely wholesome and to me it celebrates the simple pleasures.

“If it’s sunny outside, you just bring your bathing suit to work and jump into the water at the end of the day.“ How are the people at the office? Are there a lot of interns? There is a really good intern culture at COBE. It has 140 people, and there are 34 interns here. The lunch is catered, which takes a small sum of your salary, but you eat lunch with all of the interns, architects, and project managers side by side. The intern and design community is so intertwined here so I met a lot of people through that. I feel like everyone is very open to making friends. I have so much to learn from everyone, and it’s humbling.

When you were exploring Copenhagen by bike, did you find any hidden spots? I feel like they’re not very hidden—the neighbourhoods are very distinct here. Copenhagen is not a walkable city, but you can ride your bike to one area, lock it and then walk a little and there’s a different character. There are two places in Copenhagen that are especially nice spots to hang out. The first is the Nordhavn—the north harbour. It’s a bit far from the city centre but close to my office, and there’s a great swimming harbour called Sandkaj. The other is Reffen, another industrial harbour. It’s filled with guerilla urbanism, so they have a lot of cargo ship containers and temporary installations and there’s a nice vibe there. Again, you can just jump in the water. If you bike further, you can go to Sydhavnen, which is the south haven— haven means harbour. It’s a nature reserve with alpacas! You can also bike an hour outside the city and visit the beaches and deer forests. I could go on, but I feel really grateful for these experiences. Did you notice any cultural differences between Canada and Denmark? As soon as I arrived in Denmark, I noticed that it had a strong identity. Part of it was physical—the Scandinavian architecture, the minimalist design, the everyday public spaces, the bicycles everywhere. But it’s also a cultural thing. Summer is meant for swimming in the sea, barbecuing

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in the park, and taking a one-month vacation to live in your summer house by the coast. Winter is for creating hygge or coziness in their homes and relationships. Birthdays are about putting a cocktail stick Danish flag on every piece of cake for your guests. Work should stay at work, where you eat alongside your co-workers, hierarchy is flattened, and your efforts are always thanked. Afterwards, you grab an overpriced beer with co-workers and friends at a bar or you save some money and take a beer from the grocery store to enjoy at your outdoor living room—one of the city’s many public spaces. Finally, when you are asked about how you are doing, you don’t say “good, and you?”, but rather you give them an honest answer because they genuinely want to know. It feels like everyone shares these things when living in Denmark. It’s what people mean when they say “living Danishly”—the shared Danish identity. You are a part of it— until you are not. Many of the other international people I talked to agreed that it’s hard to get here, but it’s easy to stay. And why wouldn’t you want to stay? It felt like I was living in a magical fantasy land. It was a place that just seemed to have so many things figured out—public transportation, education, creativity, public life, architecture, etc. It felt unreal, but I was “living Danishly” there. This magical fantasy land exists and once you live here, you want to be here forever.

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Hanging out at the Sandkye

Harbour view, Copenhagen RUSHALI PATEL

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Moving sand dune, northern Denmark 102

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Beach in Vejby

Have you visited anywhere else in Denmark?

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Definitely! Even though Denmark is a small and flat country, it has a lot of beautiful nature and seaside. My favourite beach was Vejby Strand. It was secluded and serene. They sculpted the beach using rocks and created inlets in a way that felt like land art. My favourite little harbour village was in Faaborg. It was like a fairytale town where you could eat ice cream and watch the sunset on an endless horizon. The most unexpected nature I saw was a moving coastal sand dune in northern Jutland. It was magnificent and so windy. Finally, MĂ¸ns Klint is the best place to see the sheer chalk cliffs at a staggering 128m above sea level!

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rushali’s conversation with a danish stranger Me: *waiting for an elevator*

*Elevator arrives*

Stranger with grey hair carrying a bunch of empty cans: *stands beside me*

Do you know where you will be when you die? I mean, will you be in Canada, or somewhere else? Hmm . . . No, I haven’t really thought about it much. I’m still pretty young. I know where I want to be. Where? In Valhalla. And where is that? Somewhere in Denmark? Not quite. I guess this place only exists in your mind.

Stranger: *says something in Danish* Me: Sorry, I don’t speak Danish. It’s okay. I can speak English. I said that beer cans start to smell really bad if you let them sit out on a hot day. (Apprehensively) Yeah, they do. So where are you from? I’m from Canada. Oh, I have a brother in Canada. He’s been living there for 10 years now. I think he likes it. He even gets money from the government. Yes, Canada is a beautiful place. My grandma also recently became a citizen, and she gets a pension too. It’s nice to be supported. But he is getting old now. I think he wants to move back to Denmark to spend time with family.

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*My floor dings* That’s interesting. Well, this is my floor. It was nice talking to you. Yes, it was. Enjoy your evening. A minute later, I googled Valhalla. Turns out, it’s the final resting place for a Viking after death.

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from local to global a conversation with sparsh gandhi Can you tell us about where you did your co-ops? SPARSH GANDHI: My first co-op was at DPAI Architecture in Hamilton, and my second co-op was in New York. That was completely different since it’s a huge city and a lot of things were going on at once. It was more intense with work as well, as with travelling around and trying to see as many places as possible. How did the work cultures in Hamilton and New York compare? It was fast-paced in New York. I was working on a project in China and it seemed that they had unreal expectations for what was supposed to happen every week. We were constantly under pressure to produce new 106

things. In Hamilton, I was mostly working on a commercial office and meetings were less frequent, so we had more time to produce work. The firm had a lot of projects in Hamilton and many of them were within walking distance, so we’d go to the site to take pictures for renders. It was interesting to see where you were designing and imagine what would happen there. In New York, the project was so far removed that it was pretty much just in the drawings. Do you prefer those smaller scale, more local projects? I liked that in Hamilton I could see where I was making a difference and what was actually going to be built. I’ve heard it said that you can only design something properly in a place you’ve lived in for ten years. When PERIPATETIC MAGAZINE

New York skyline at night

you live close to where you’re designing, you have an idea of what people expect and what would improve the city. In the office, people were always talking about current issues in Hamilton and ways they could make a difference. It sounds like you really became part of the architectural community there. There’s a society called Young Architects Hamilton where they have lectures and events. There was a lecture with John Straube [the building science professor]— everyone loved his work there! Our firm also held a few events where they put together a panel on urbanism and invited developers and urban designers as speakers. They set up a discussion about what type of urbanism could be good for Hamilton, and a lot of it was about densifying the downtown core. SPARSH GANDHI

What was your impression of Hamilton? It was definitely a city. It’s pretty dense and there are tall buildings with lots of people walking the streets. But you didn’t have to go far to get to natural places like parks and recreational areas. My friend Stephen and I climbed up the mountain on one of the coldest nights in the winter, and the stairs had a lot of ice on them! What kinds of things did you do outside of work? Stephen and I went to a lot of food places— the architecture firm that Stephen worked at did a lot of interiors for restaurants, so we

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Top: Stairs up the mountain in Hamilton Bottom: Moulin Rouge, New York City

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made a point of visiting the places they’d designed. There was one restaurant inside of a house in the middle of a suburban area. But once you went inside, it was beautiful. How would you compare your experiences in terms of activities outside of work? In Hamilton, I was still trying to find out what my interests were outside of work. I was exploring the city and also figuring out how to cook for myself, which took a lot of time! The architecture scene in Hamilton is pretty tight, so you see the same people at every event. It was easier to get to know people that way. In New York, I had more friends there, so I didn’t spend as much time meeting new people, but I tried so many new things. I got really into rock climbing—I went three times a week to different gyms! I also played frisbee in Prospect Park every Saturday. There was this little pick-up group and I realized when I got there that the people were mostly middle-aged and I was the youngest one, but it was still pretty fun. My firm, NBBJ, had a soccer team, so we played almost every other week with other architecture firms like OMA and Snøhetta. Did you discover any hidden spots across the city? On our way to work, we’d get off the subway in the Financial District. There was a coffee shop a minute’s walk from work and it was the tiniest place ever—there was only space for one person to stand in the shop at a time! But now I wonder how they’re doing during the pandemic.

SPARSH GANDHI

Hopefully they’ll pull through. Did you do any research or read up on New York before going to prepare? I hadn’t, so it was a big shock when I got there. There was so much going on, and everyone was really involved with what they were doing at the moment. That led to a fascination with the place—everything around me was interesting. It was nice to have that fresh perspective, like going to a movie without seeing the trailer. If I went back, though, I might do more research. Did you ever find that constant stimulation overwhelming? I think it can get overwhelming, especially if you’re trying to do a lot in one day. I was happy that we were living in Brooklyn, since it was a lot quieter. It was just people and families living their daily lives. Did you also explore any of the other boroughs? We went to Queens to see the Noguchi Museum. That was one of my favourite places—it was very peaceful. It’s not often that you see a building that’s designed by the person [Isamu Noguchi] whose art is also featured. A portion of the museum was outdoors and some areas were enclosed with concrete walls, but the ceiling was open. There was a beautiful ramp going through one of the exhibition spaces, and at the top were windows where you could look through. The openings felt very intentional: the building was designed to showcase his artwork. 109

A misty view of Vancouver 110

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“[Vancouver has] one of the longest uninterrupted seawalls in the world.”

vancouver + nyc introspection a conversation with ali salama What did you do in your spare time during your co-op in New York City? I went to so many museums: the MoMA, the Guggenheim, the MET, the Frick Collection . . . I also went to Philadelphia for a day to visit the Barnes Foundation. They have one of the biggest impressionist collections! I thought Philadelphia was a very beautiful city. Though I was only there for a day, I felt really taken by it. The streets are much more pedestrian friendly than in New York. I would love to go back and spend some more time there.

I feel like I don’t really tend to think of the outside city when I’m in a museum. But I do always look forward to my commute to and from a museum. I like to listen to specific songs on the subway. In New York I associated different areas around each museum with the museum itself. Do you have any favourite walks you’d take often, and did you discover anything out of the way on those walks?

In Vancouver, my place was next to the sea wall, an extended part of it. So I’d take walks there, but near the end I discovered I could How does visiting museums and walk the other direction all the way to work, galleries change your experience about a 40 minute walk. It was a really nice of the city? walk next to the water.

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Ali’s Vancouver commute map

What is the seawall exactly—is it a big barrier? I think it’s just an uninterrupted trail or walk near the sea. In some places it’s a hard barrier with the sea, but in other places it’s not. It’s one of the longest uninterrupted seawalls in the world. Vancouver has a lot of outdoor spaces and parks—were there any in particular you liked? I can’t think of any parks, but the hike I went on was really nice. It’s called Grouse 112

Mountain—it’s supposed to be a beginner one. At the start it felt kind of hard, but about halfway it got better. At the top is a ski hill. Do you think you would try hiking a tougher hill, now you have some experience? I wanted to, if I had still been in Vancouver. On the same trail it kind of split into two different hikes, but I never tried the other. Gives you a reason to go back, then. It also sounds like you PERIPATETIC MAGAZINE

like to read—did you read a lot during your co-ops? In New York, I read A Gentleman in Moscow, which is one of my favourite books. It’s by Amor Towles. It’s about a guy who used to be in the nobility in Russia and when the revolution happened, instead of being exiled he was under house arrest basically in the Moscow Hotel. And then it’s just kind of a life story. Where do you find time to read—at home, or on your commute? In New York I’d read on the subway sometimes. When I went on a walk to Central Park or something, that was always a good place to read as well.

Would you like to go back to Vancouver for a co-op or just a visit? If for a co-op, what do you like about the work culture there? I would like to go back to Vancouver for a co-op, for sure. It is one of the cities I’ve visited where I felt like I would love to live there. I think all of the beautiful landscapes and parks make it a very pleasant city with a lot going on, but it avoids the big city feel, which is very appealing to me. I really enjoyed the work culture at my office, but I feel like the bigger attraction is the fact that regardless of where I work in Vancouver, I would be very close to a nice park to have lunch in, or a trail to take a walk in.

Left: Winter hiking in Vancouver Right: Granville Island Public Market from above

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how to order kopi a conversation with tracy meng + kevin kunnappilly You both did your co-ops in Singapore. What made you decide to go there?

KEVIN KUNNAPPILLY: I’d had my eyes on the city for a long time. In videos, I saw this very prosperous, technology-driven city. And when I actually got there, all of TRACY MENG: I chose Singapore because it’s very these things were absolutely multicultural and easy to get around. People there true—it wasn’t just how they are travellers from all over the world, usually from wanted their city to be seen. Europe, Thailand, or Malaysia. I hardly met anyone Were you working together? who was born and raised in Singapore. KK: No, we were at separate offices. I was working at a firm called HKS that’s based in Dallas. It’s a mid-sized office, about 15 to 20 people, but they serve the entire Asia region. Their projects are mostly in hospitality, healthcare, and entertainment. My experience there was amazing. Student interns were allowed to design, sketch, and present their own ideas to the client. It was collaborative and social, and because it was a smaller office, the atmosphere was very down to earth.

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Inside the Thian Hock Keng Temple in Chinatown, photo by Kevin TRACY MENG + KEVIN KUNNAPPILLY

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TM: II worked at Benoy. Their main office is in the UK, but they have some offices in Dubai and Shanghai. There were 30 people in the Singapore office and it was much more corporate. We were in charge of the interior of the Changi terminal airport. It’s such a beautiful airport—right when I got there I was like, “This is heaven.” It even has a huge waterfall inside. KK: There’s a butterfly garden and cactus garden too! TM: And there are art installations everywhere. I could spend the entire day there just relaxing. Compared to other co-ops you’ve had, how was the work culture in Singapore? KK: Because my office had American headquarters, it was more of an international setting. There were Singaporeans and Malaysians in the office, but the management was from the US, China, or Europe. Similar to TM: Same, I usually worked an hour overtime. I felt other Asian offices, there was that they were more strict compared to Toronto. It’s the expectation to work longer similar to New York where the work is fast-paced, hours. I was put on a highbut in Singapore it’s even more intensified. In terms profile project, so I usually had of the work itself, I never had markups like I would in to stay until 7pm and a few Toronto, and I had to figure things out on my own. times even later than that. KK: I found the workload heavier than in most North American offices because they have many more projects going on at the same time. The projects were usually international, so the upper management was always busy and had less time to communicate specific details. So that’s where this culture of working on your own comes from. But it’s actually a more collaborative environment, TM:I think it was my best co-op—I learned a lot, and because it’s your responsibility since it was fast-paced I really picked up Revit. When to work with other team I was working at Gould Evans Architects in San members to get things done. Francisco, they gave me a day to learn the software. But in Singapore, they just gave me the project to do and I had to learn it myself. 116

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Public art in front of the Asian Civilizations Museum, photo by Kevin

How did you adjust to living in the city? To the culture? TM: English is the most spoken language, then Mandarin, Hindi, Malay, and many others. No matter who you are, you fit in, even if you’re a tourist. But I did feel that people there were more reserved and kept to themselves. Did you find living in Singapore restrictive, since they have so many laws concerning public behavior? TM: There are littering laws and drinking laws—you can’t drink outside after 9 or 10 pm. I feel there isn’t freedom of speech and people don’t step out of line. And there is CCTV everywhere, even on subways. But there is very little KK: The entire island of Singapore is like the size of the homelessness. It’s completely GTA. Toronto is more walkable, while in Singapore you safe walking at night. just take the subway. Their subway is so much better! It’s so clean and it’s always on time. There’s even wifi down there. It was super crisp and professional and organized. We never felt rushed to get somewhere. TRACY MENG + KEVIN KUNNAPPILLY

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Which places in the city did you like to visit? TM: We lived near Chinatown, which was good to explore. My work was in the central area—I was near Tanjong Pagar, the Financial District. That area is more upscale and white-collar, but Chinatown, near where Kevin worked, is the prettiest one I’ve seen. It’s not just a street, but a small city! There are these buildings with balconies called shophouses. It KK: It was a Dutch colonial settlement, so that’s why the looks very Westernized, architecture looks the way it does. We mostly stayed around almost like New the downtown area because that’s where we lived and Orleans—it doesn’t look everything was close by. The rest of the island is mostly like traditional Asian residential with housing blocks. architecture. TM: There are also more commercialized areas like Marina Bay Sands. We went there, but I couldn’t afford anything—we only went there for the architecture. And there is a canal inside, so you can boat in the mall. KK: It’s designed by Moshe Safdie.

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A meal in Singapore, photo by Tracy

$2 plates of chicken rice at a past Michelin-star certified ‘hawker’ food stall, photo by Kevin

KK: And the food is so cheap! Food ports and markets are like grocery stores, but there are food stalls inside. TM: It has a ‘Chinese night market’ vibe but it’s much more international. It can be 3 dollars for a huge plate of food that comes with rice, meat, soup, salad, everything. After a meal, you get coffee or tea, and the way you order coffee is different. It’s cheaper there because their currency is different—in Singapore, their dollar is almost the same as the Canadian dollar.“ How was ordering coffee or tea different? KK: They have specific words for sugar or for condensed or regular milk. TM: Or evaporated milk. It would be “Kopi” with a “K” and “Kopi-” with a “C” or an “O.” I think “C” stands for condensed and “O” is something else. Did you try any traditional Singaporean dishes? KK: Chilii Crab!

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TM: I really liked their Bak Kut Teh—it’s pork that’s stewed in a rich broth. You eat it with rice, chili, and spices, and it’s a popular comfort food. I had one dessert that was made up of different colours, very much like rice cake. They use a lot of Kaya jam, it’s this green coconut butter—I bought some at the airport and brought it home. It’s very sweet and their equivalent of nutella. 119

The wonderful view from my hilltop apartment, photo by Kevin

TM: “The island is really accessible to nearby countries. We took a couple trips to Thailand and Malaysia, because the flights are really cheap and only an hour or so. For a weekend or a day trip, you can take a ferry right across the water to Indonesia.” 120

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What did you think about the architecture there? It seems that Singapore is very experimental. KK: Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s because their budgets are way higher, and their architecture is more iconic, more Frank Gehry-esque. TM: Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s very innovative and high-tech. Because of the climate, they can do so much more and not have to worry about snow or extreme weather. A lot of their spaces are adaptive from indoors to outdoors. There was one mall we went to that was completely outside. If you could bring one thing back from Singapore to Canada, what would it be? KK: Two-dollar takeout! TM: I agree, the food was the best thing. I would love to go again. KK: Whenever people ask me about Singapore, my heart sinks because I really miss it.

Roof of National Gallery of Singapore by Studio Milou, photo by Kevin TRACY MENG + KEVIN KUNNAPPILLY

Courtyard of SUTD Campus by UNStudio, photo by Kevin 121

Downtown Ljubljana, Slovenia 122

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BIG dreams + dragon dancing article by soo woo When I started at Waterloo, I was an international student from Korea, and I was totally lost in the Canadian school system. I was excited to start a new life, but nervous to adjust myself to a different culture. Co-op terms were especially challenging for me because my verbal communication skills in English were less competent than my colleagues. I thought to myself, why don’t I work in firms outside of North America, in a country where everyone speaks a different language? I was able to obtain internships in Slovenia and Denmark, and each experience was unique. My first co-op abroad was at a small architectural studio called Ofis in Ljubljana, Slovenia. Frankly, I didn’t even know where this city was. All I knew was that the studio SOO WOO

produced cool projects and I wanted to work for them. Although I wasn’t paid, it was still a priceless experience because I loved the city. The riverbank park next to the Ljubljanica River was everyone’s favorite place at the office to drink cheap wine and have chats after work. On weekend mornings, I enjoyed gelato and coffee on the outdoor patio open to the waterscape.

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Ljubljana river bank

You could also take a weekend trip to nearby countries like Austria, Italy, and Hungary. Venice was three hours away from Ljubljana by busâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;traveling by cheap buses and airlines is something to take advantage of in Europe! My roommate was Italian, and we sometimes made lunch together. He taught me how to make Amatriciana in the Italian way, and I still share this recipe with my family today. Another unforgettable co-op experience abroad was at BIG in Copenhagen, Denmark. As a lot of people might have heard, they have a reputation of demanding constant overtime work. During 124

a deadline, it was common to spend over 100 hours in the office working non-stop. Surprisingly, though, I really enjoyed the work environment, and consider working at BIG my best co-op experience during my entire education. I was impressed that everyone in the office, no matter how senior their positions were, worked the same amount of hours and level of tasks. I saw senior designers casually helping juniors in their tasks. As an intern, I was invited to engage in design decisions. The structure of the office was very horizontal, which I rarely experienced in other work environments, and everyone was supportive and respectful. PERIPATETIC MAGAZINE

After each deadline, we were given a few vacation days, and I used this time to take trips to other European countries. People worked really hard, then threw huge parties. On Halloween, we had a costume competition. The competition was intense: people put in as much effort and hours as they put into work during deadlines! Some people built their costumes using the 3D

printer or laser cutter. The Chinese New Year party was the most memorable one. My boyfriend (we both worked at BIG at that time, and he is now my husband!) and I took the initiative to design a giant dragon costume at the companyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s expense so everyone could enjoy a dragon dance ceremony.

Working abroad provided me with enriching experiences that I never would have obtained without the Waterloo co-op program. If you wish to apply for jobs abroad during your undergraduate degree, you wonâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t regret it!

Chinese New Year celebration at BIG SOO WOO

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between here and there Many students at Waterloo Architecture have creative interests that extend beyond architecture, and they carry these projects with them while on co-op. In this section, we delve into the ways students express themselves through making in relation to the city or place.

whatâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s it like? a photoseries

motion and stillness

meghan won 130 - 133

elizabeth yeoh 134 - 139

west coast sketching

sketching in paris + new york

heather friedel 140 - 147

ethan zhang + magdalena kaczmarczyk 148 - 157

existential doodling + DIY tattoos

lamenting leaving london

maria mylenka 158 - 163

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abhishek ambekar 164 - 169

music from coast to coast

kung fu + skiing in the clouds

lauren patrick 170 - 175

janna kohlodova 176 - 179

pursuits 129

follow @mt.won + mtwon.ca “What’s It Like” Photoseries March 2020, Original print 6.5x30” 114 doors, 10 cities, 5 years.

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The “What’s It Like” series presents 114 photos taken between 2015 and 2020, from Ottawa, Kingston, Cambridge, New York City, Toronto, Lisbon, Faro, London, Paris, and Vilnius. Each door comes from a city that I’ve had the opportunity to experience, whether for days, months, or years. Each door is a snapshot of coming and going; from cities, buildings, homes, and people.

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A door is a metaphor for coming and going. It’s a portal between two places: where you are now, and what is on the other side. It can be the embodiment of an entire narrative. Maybe you know what’s on that other side, maybe that’s where you just came from, maybe it’s somewhere you return to often, maybe it’s somewhere you’ve always wanted to be, or maybe you have no idea what lies beyond the frame. In any situation,

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it’s your choice whether to move through that doorway or not. What’s it like to stay? What’s it like to go? Each door reminds me of a memory of that time and place. Each door has its own significance, whether time spent there was a fleeting second passing by, or a constant in my daily life. Each door carries mystery. I’m not naturally a nomadic type, but every time I find a new home, in a place or in people,

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I build a part of myself there. I am thankful for the opportunities I’ve had to be in so many places, and having so many homes in places and with people. But I’m split in a doorway of being in and out. I’m always thinking about a life somewhere else, my next step when I leave, while fantasizing about my life there, and what it could have been if I had stayed.

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One foot in and one foot out the door. MEGHAN WON

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Tower going up, Toronto 134

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motion and stillness a conversation with elizabeth yeoh ELIZABETH YEOH: Working in London was the best combination of doing work that I really enjoyed, and being able to do things outside of work. It was a really small office, so I bonded a lot with the people there. We had picnics and Friday nights at the pub. We also went to lectures and events around London, and we did some office trips together as well—to the Serpentine Pavilion which was up that summer by Junya Ishigami, and this cottage outside of London called Turn End, designed by Peter Aldington. It was a picturesque place with really beautiful gardens. We saw a lot of different styles of buildings, both contemporary and historic, around London and the UK. I did a lot of travelling on the weekends—Megabus was my friend! I went with friends to Brighton, Bath, Edinburgh,

ELIZABETH YEOH

and Cornwall. We tried to cover as much of the UK as possible and immerse ourselves in the different landscapes around the coast. Sounds like you had a great time. How did you decide on day trips—would you just pick somewhere on a map and go there, or did you have a list planned out? Most of the trips were within a day’s travel of London. We went to a bunch of cities on the coastline—we were exhausted because we would travel all day and then come back the same night. And I had to go to work the next day! My co-workers were so surprised at the fact that I was able to do the entire Cornish coast in one day with two friends. But Megabus makes things possible!

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Brighton and the channel

Were there any specific walks you liked to take in London or New York? I lived in the East End, in a place called Walthamstow. It’s very far on the outskirts of London, so it felt more like a village. I used to walk around the historic district with my roommate or my landlord from time to time. There was a nice park where I spent a lot of time, and that was on the way to the village centre. In New York, I loved walking around in SoHo near my office. It’s very pedestrian friendly and there are lots of nice alleyways behind streets and little parks. What kinds of hobbies did you have in your free time? I brought an old film camera to New York City. Documenting my travels on 35mm film has become a sort of ritualistic practice whenever I leave home. Sometimes a photo is carefully planned. Most often, it’s experimental—an impulsive reaction to something that catches my eye as I walk by.

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Together, the images provide insight into my erratic movements across dirt paths and city streets and behind apartment windows. Although I haven’t taken that many rolls of film, it’s a really nice process. Even if some of them don’t turn out, you still capture the feeling of the moment. Sometimes it takes months between taking the photos and receiving them back as prints. It’s a really nice feeling of nostalgia when you finally see them! How would you compare the experience of doing photography in New York compared to London? Both times I was in New York, it was winter or early spring. The season was dreary and cold, so I spent more time inside. Still, though, I walked a lot and occasionally biked, exploring different neighbourhoods. The temperatures meant I generally travelled within a smaller radius, exploring (and eating) my way through the city one bite-sized chunk at a time. Rather than PERIPATETIC MAGAZINE

“Even if some of [the photos] don’t turn out, you still capture the feeling of the moment you are in.” going into Manhattan every weekend, I looked for more local things. When I was living in Brooklyn, I would do an hour-long walk almost every Sunday from my Crown Heights rental to Prospect Park. One route that eventually stuck was to pass through a vibrant street called Franklin Avenue, which

is lined with independent sellers, restaurants, and cafés. I had to work late often, but the bustling night life of the city offers an array of things to do after work. There was a life drawing event at a gallery in downtown Brooklyn I started going to on my way home, which was a nice way to unwind.

Vintage mini car show, Brighton ELIZABETH YEOH

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“My photographs are observations of city life set against a ceaseless backdrop of large buildings and infrastructure.”

On the downside, the fast-paced culture of New York encourages you to feel like you constantly have to be out doing something. I adopted that mindset for a while but found myself burnt out from the overstimulation. My photographs of New York and London are a tale of two cities, highlighting not only the distinct character of each place but also how I experienced it. During my summer in London, I had more of an appetite for long-distance travel and spontaneous plans. I was drawn to the painterly character of landscapes I saw along the way—seaside, countryside, garden. In New York I was less interested in documenting a particular place. My photographs are observations of city life set against a ceaseless backdrop of large buildings and infrastructure. It reflects my perception of how the city is both engaging and overwhelming. Below Riverside Drive Viaduct, Manhattanville 138

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ELIZABETH YEOH

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west coast sketching a conversation with heather friedel Where have you worked so far, and which has been your favourite co-op? HEATHER FRIEDEL: My first work term was in Barrie, Ontario at 3stones architecture + design, a 3-person company. My second work term was in Hamilton, Ontario, at Thier + Curran Architects, which is a 10-ish person firm. The next work term was in Kitchener at Walter Fedy—they have two hundred people but are mostly engineers, so the architecture part is about 20 people. Then I went to Victoria, BC, and worked with Studio Robazzo. That was by far the best work term. Studio Robazzo does lots of parametrically-designed things. They’ve branded themselves as “whatever you need to make your company stand out, we’ll do it for you.” It was a great vibe—they’re young, 140

they’re hip, and really friendly. In contrast, my last co-op was in Vancouver at Engage Architecture with just me and three other people, and I took that job just because I wanted to go back to the West coast. My job was very 9-to-5 but it gave me time to focus on my art after work. What kind of art do you do? Drawing is my thing. I picked up pastels in high school and used to bring along sketchbooks on family vacations. When I have free time, I just sketch. Sometimes that means sketching with just a pencil, but when I say “I’m going out to sketch” that usually means I’m taking my box of pastels with me, or my watercolours, or my acrylics, or my oil paints, depending on what I feel like.

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Above: Water reflections study Left: Bowen Island, Vancouver

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Did you discover any interesting spots in Victoria? My favourite spot in Victoria is this place called Highrock Park. One day my bosses drove me across town to a fair, and I thought, “I’ll just walk back home, I’ve got my map, my feet can take me there.” So I was wandering around, going in the right direction, and I crested this hill. I saw this valley with trees, and over in the distance there were mountains. The sun was setting, and everything was turning golden and sparkling, and the ocean was across to my left. It felt very removed from the city—it was tucked into this neighbourhood with old century homes. The people coming into the park weren’t tourists, they were just neighbours coming with their dogs, taking pictures of the sunset. It was very peaceful and I felt on top of the world. I kept going back there as the summer went on, trying to find a way to capture the way this place made me feel. Were there any special places like that in Vancouver? I liked going to the Vancouver Convention Centre. Most people would walk in the square below, but if you walk up to the top on the green roof, there’s a great view. I like finding high-up places where people are below me—it makes me feel safe. It was on my way home from work so I’d go there after work and just sit for an hour, and think, write, or draw. In Vancouver, I also learned to appreciate clouds. In most places, it has to be sunny to sketch. Cloudy is okay, or “Resting Place” 142

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Watercolour sketching in Victoria

rainy, if it’s really moody. But in Vancouver, the clouds were whorling around the trees and in the mountains and it was fascinating. The clouds were as big as the mountains, and the mountains were huge. That sounds amazing. When you’re sketching outside, can you immerse yourself in your work and get lost in that, or do you find that people approach you and you get distracted? When people come up to talk, I think that’s great. Usually I’ll have my earbuds in, so people don’t often stop to talk to me. I like to listen to music when I’m sketching. It puts me in the zone. So even if there are people interrupting me, I can go back into the zone once I put my headphones back in. When

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you draw, it’s important to have the right rhythm—to not work too fast or too slow. And I find when I put music on I can work to the right rhythm. It seems like you do faster sketches, but you also have larger projects that take more time? If I want to do something bigger, that takes several sessions. It’s just a matter of size equals time, and time equals a number of sessions before the light changes. So if I want to work big, I have to plan it out. If I’m going to be walking around and finding something to sketch, it will typically be something small. The thing that actually goes into my sketchbook is a thumbnail sketch, and maybe a couple lines of

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Winter scene 01

description of how I feel about it and the things I’m smelling and hearing. That’s what my sketchbook is useful for—my sketchbook records the senses that I feel when I’m there, so I can refer back to it later. Do you always work on-site, outside, or do you ever find yourself finishing things up inside or working from photos? I like to work outside best. When I’m working from just a photograph, I feel a little lost, because I don’t have the skill of interpreting photographs artistically. That being said, I’ll usually work on paintings outside for a certain amount of time, then work on them inside for a similar amount of time. When I do that, I’m working from the photographs I took on site but also from my own visual

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memory before it fades. For a more in-depth piece, I’ll take a whole bunch of reference photographs. I’ll go back to the site to refresh my memory and work on it again and go back and forth. Working at home helps me make sure that it works in indoor lighting conditions, so I get the colour balance right. It seems like you’re very attuned to all of your senses—what you smell, see, hear. I would say so. I can definitely tell a frame of mind from a painting. I can tell, looking back, “I was tense making this,” or “I felt that everything was ok when I was making this,” or “I felt that I needed to bring some order into my life when I was making this.” Just from the composition.

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When I was in Victoria, I went to the local art shop and there was a magazine of local art events. One event was a plein air art competition. They assign you a location to sit and draw, and I was in the middle of this field with a train. The composition is not the most relaxed since I was performing with my artwork in this event. If I had been more relaxed, maybe I would have done a composition that reflected that, but I didn’t feel that way and I wanted to be true to myself. But I was proud of myself for going all the way to get to the competition which was quite far, and organizing my trip. When you decide what you want to paint, do you already see in your mind what it will look like?

HEATHER FRIEDEL

I try to. That’s what those five minutes of looking at the scene before I start is for, and that’s when I edit out things that aren’t important to my composition. So the first step is sit down, check my composition, do a thumbnail sketch. I’ll also do a colour test, because the pastel paper comes in different colours. I’ll put down the strokes—like I’m using a bright green, a tan, a dark grey, and I’ll pick a midtone that’s somewhere in between and the right warmth, depending on the colour of light that’s coming in. That skill took a lot of experimentation to learn. It frustrated me a lot when I was learning to use pastels and trying different coloured pastel paper, but now, I will rarely choose a wrong colour pastel paper, or if I do, I’ll know immediately.

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Do you find that all of this experience you have with composition and colour translates at all to being an architecture student and coming up with digital visualisations?

HEATHER FRIEDEL

(Laughs) No, not at all. This is an absolute hindrance for me. What I’m good at is taking something that I’m seeing with my eyes and translating it onto paper. A person, a thing, a place. That’s the skill I’ve been developing. If I’m taking something that I can’t literally see, I’m as mediocre an artist as everyone else. At least that’s how it feels. The mentality is different for artists compared to architects. The mentality of “I’m an artist, I see things and I don’t want to change them because imperfection is beautiful” versus “I’m an architect, I’m going to change the physical nature of the world by building something here that was an empty lot before.” As an artist, I think, “The empty lot is beautiful, let’s keep it.”

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sketching in paris + new york a conversation with ethan zhang + magdalena kaczmarczyk You’ve been all around the world for your co-ops. Which place was your favourite? ETHAN ZHANG: I really enjoy busy city life, so my second co-op in New York City was the most interesting to me. It was nice to experience a work culture that wasn’t studio 24/7, and I managed to do a lot of drawing and get to know my co-workers. MAGDALENA KACZMARCZYK: Same, New York City was probably my favourite co-op. I also worked at a corporate firm but they really believed in work-life balance, so I didn’t do a lot of overtime. They knew I was visiting the city as well as working at the firm. One of my favourite

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memories is sketching the city with Ethan. We would go to the MET on Friday nights and pick an area to sit down and draw until it closed. It was a really nice experience to wind down after an entire week of work. EZ: Yes, as a student you get to pay what you want to enter the MET. It was a really good resource to sketch and hang out after work. What kinds of things did you draw there? MK: I think we just chose a different area of the MET each time, because it’s huge. We went pretty consistently on Fridays if we didn’t have overtime. I don’t think we finished going through the entirety of the

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Ethan’s Europe sketchbook

museum. We drew various things—once we went to the sculpture garden and sketched there. There are other areas that are more architectural, too, like the Temple of Dendur. I know you sketched a lot in Paris as well, but was it a different experience there? Did you sketch outdoors or did

ETHAN ZHANG + MAGDALENA KACZMARCZYK

you go to the Louvre and other museums? MK: We were planning to do the same thing at the Louvre as we did with the MET but we did so much overtime. We worked until 7 pm or sometimes 8 or 9 and that’s when the Louvre would close. So we rarely got the opportunity. Mostly, we sketched outdoors.

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Ethan’s Paris sketches: Left top: The Louvre Left centre: Painting studies Left bottom: Magdalena in a cafe Right: Rodin’s Thinker

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EZ: There were times on the weekends when we were able to go to gardens, like the Rodin Museum where they had a lot of sculptures in the gardens. Those were nice to study and to draw. We got to notice differences in anatomy, like Rodin always sculpts larger hands and feet compared to the Greek and Roman sculptures in the MET which are pretty anatomically proportionate. MK: Honestly, it was very difficult to sketch outdoors in New York because the buildings are all just glass boxes. You can’t really sketch architectural details there unless you find a specific park or viewpoint where you can see the skyline. But in Paris, we once sat down in the Latin Quarter to get some coffee and we started sketching facades because they were so interesting. EZ: We went to the Pantheon in Paris and we sat and drew columns, just the columns. In New York, it’s more about the

urban landscape and the environments, and often how you would express them is in rough lines. In Europe, it was more detailoriented—you express how the column looks and how the carvings or stairs were more delicate or decorated. How do you use your sketchbooks? And what mediums do you generally use? EZ: I did some outdoor plein air paintings, but I don’t have a lot of patience so my medium of choice is any small moleskine sketchbook, preferably landscape, ink pen, and 3B pencil. I like to get things down quickly and don’t often spend many hours at a single location. MK: I think the reason we don’t like spending so much time at a single location is because we want to visit the city as well, so it’s a bit of a hybrid: sketching and tourism.

Ethan’s New York sketchbook 152

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EZ: For me, I didn’t want my sketches to be like a photograph—it’s about how you can catch the feeling and form of the location with as few lines and as quickly as possible. I personally didn’t feel like I needed to go into detail for every single decoration, railing, step. MK: It’s a bit different for me—my goal for sketching is to learn. In the architectural profession it’s important to draw and put down on paper exactly what you’re thinking and how you want to represent it. I find my sketching a bit lackluster. I don’t have that trained hand, so I thought it would be a good opportunity to get better on my co-ops, especially since I’m a

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visual learner. Sketching helps solidify my memory of an area. An interesting lesson I learned while sketching on co-ops is that my sketchbook isn’t to be respected. At first, especially before university, I would approach every paper in my sketchbook as if it had to be a masterpiece. During my Europe trip, I realized that I couldn’t sit five hours at a location and sketch a beautiful drawing and expect to do the same thing over and over again. Once I learned that my sketchbook wasn’t to be respected, I started learning through sketching. Some sketches would be more detailed depending on what I wanted to learn that day, and others were quicker or not as good, but I was always learning. How does sketching change your experience of a place? EZ: I definitely learn about a place through sketching. When I was sketching columns in the Pantheon, I learned the different kinds of decorations and the points we learned in ICO [our cultural history

course]. Whereas in New York, it helped me form a mental map of the area and look at elements in relation to one another. You notice where the sidewalk is, or where the hot dog stands are in relation to the street edge, or to the bus stops or the entrances nearby. You really learn the context of the place. It helps me visualize the proportions of the city and how the city is formed. It’s not only for practicing drawing techniques—there’s a lot of observing and absorbing the context that is around you that you often ignore while in the city. Usually, I hardly look at the roofs or the details on the edges of buildings. But once you start drawing them, you have to start paying attention to them. And when you start paying attention to them, you notice these interconnected relationships between details and the sizes of things. MK: And you form a more intimate connection to the area when you sketch, too. It’s more personal than a photograph. The places that we sat down and sketched, I remember them way clearer than any of

Temple of Dendur by Ethan

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Grand Central Station by Ethan

Prague castle by Magdalena

Paris park by Magdalena

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New York sketches by Ethan 01

the photos I’ve taken. For example, when we went to Prague, we ended up going to the Prague Castle. We sat down for three hours to sketch the castle—it was the longest sketch I worked on. And when we checked the time afterwards, we noticed everything was closed. We missed everything else because we decided to sketch the castle for so long. But now it’s a fond memory despite missing that tourist attraction, because you create your own memories and form a relationship with that place. EZ: When I went to visit the Villa Savoye, I did draw it, but my strongest memory is actually the trip to the building. It was in a small village and Google Maps took us through backroads and through these cobblestone paths. I paused for a few moments and drew out the cobblestone pathways with little arches or the buildings surrounding it. Those quick sketches captured the essence of the town much better than just drawing the Villa Savoye. And I can still imagine the space I was in, where I was standing, the vines and plants growing on the rocks and the bumpy road. 156

New York metro by Magdalena

Central Park by Ethan

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I like how you approach sketchbooks as a tool for building memories. Do you still sketch during the pandemic? MK: I transitioned from urban sketching to figure drawing. There are great resources online with photos of people doing poses. So I’m learning human anatomy, which is more difficult than drawing buildings sometimes. On another note, what was your favourite place to eat in New York? MK: We were on a quest to find the best mac and cheese in New York. We found a lot of spots. The first one I really enjoyed was the Mac Bar—it was a takeout place but the food was really good and came in these takeout boxes that were in a big macaroni shape. EZ: I would say this one called The Cellar was the best. They actually specialize in selling cheese, but they have a restaurant that I don’t think many people know about with a mac and cheese sampler that was really good. One of my other favourite restaurants was The Black Square—they have square pizzas. They’re black from cuttlefish ink and it was one of the most bizarre pizzas I’ve ever had. MK: I think it transformed my view of pizza because it was so good. ETHAN ZHANG + MAGDALENA KACZMARCZYK

Paris storefront by Magdalena

What about the food in Paris? EZ: The food we ate in Paris was mostly from Monoprix [a grocery store] because we didn’t get paid very much. MK: We’ve been complaining about Paris compared to New York but Paris was overall really enjoyable. I loved going to the parks. We worked in a firm in the 1st arrondissement, and that was right by the Tuileries. Having lunch there was amazing. We also ended up meeting a local sandwich maker at a place with very cheap sandwiches. He’d often give us a bit of a discount or throw in an extra drink. EZ: Or pain au chocolat. MK: Or he would say take any fruit you want for free, on me. Then we would cross the street to the Tuileries gardens and sit at the chairs there.

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existential doodling + DIY tattoos a conversation with maria mylenka How do you find inspiration for your work and does the city you‘re in influence your art? MARIA MYLENKA: Cities certainly influence my drawings, though it’s less about what I draw, and more about setting an overall mood for my stay. It’s the same thing with what I happen to be reading and listening to, and my personal and global circumstances during the time. Drawing is a coping mechanism for me. A lot of my “inspiration” comes from inner bitter distress with the way certain things work, my own and other people’s flaws, behaviors, imperfections, regrets, and so on. As much as doodling is my way to self-therapize, it is also my main (and probably most favorite, MARIA MYLENKA

because it doesn’t feel like a complete waste of time) procrastination activity, so the majority of my artwork happens instead of doing the actual work I need to be doing. Your art has a lot of distinctive linework. What is your drawing process like? How do you switch from sketching to graphic design or a completed drawing?

“Usually I have no idea what the end result will be. I just draw a line, think of what body part, pose, or object it reminds me of and take it from there.” 159

I rarely draw something intentionally (and when I do, chances are it won’t turn out decent the first time). Usually I have no idea what the end result will be. I just draw a line, think of what body part, pose, or object it reminds me of, and take it from there. Recently, I have been drawing a lot from photos of people in weird poses that Instagram throws in my feed—a happy procrastination union. I almost exclusively use black or red ink pens on blankpaper sketchbooks— largely because it is super easy to transport, which has been really handy over the past three or four years of co-ops and travels. Up until one recent and intense deadline, I used to drag a scanner around in a suitcase everywhere I moved, and scan and “clean” all drawings in Photoshop or Illustrator (when making a vector). During that deadline, I discovered that it was 100 times faster to get the same result using a basic phone gallery

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editor, and I felt stupid for all the wasted time. I still use Photoshop or Illustrator when prepping a print or if I want to color a particular drawing or play with textures. You also do tattooing—do you have any memorable stories/designs? Definitely! The whole tattooing venture in itself has been memorable, starting with my fairly random intense interest in it at the end of my second Toronto co-op. I ended up buying a tattoo machine instead of going on a roughly money-wise equivalent short New York trip before the upcoming study term. In all honesty, I never really thought that I would ever actually tattoo a person. Getting a machine was something like a piercing for a teenager—a bit of a childish manifestation of independence and even feminism. My parents and friends were sure that tattooing was just another crazy shortlived idea that I would or could not make happen.

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“Devlish bird” tattoo

Sleeping man in a bar tattoo MARIA MYLENKA

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I took it as a challenge. Almost every tattoo so far is custom designed and has a story behind it. The best part is meeting and communicating with people, although that’s also the hardest part for an introvert like me. Sometimes it’s exhausting, but it really took my traveling experiences to a new level. I met incredibly interesting, wonderful people through tattooing in different cities. I’d never have met them otherwise, and I’m still very good friends with many of them now. One of the most memorable tattoos was of a sleeping man done in Chicago. The person getting the tattoo wanted to use a photograph of a man sleeping in a bar as a prompt, making a tattoo that intentionally had no meaning. Sometime later, the guy messaged me telling me that he enjoyed the reaction of people who asked what his tattoo meant (which honestly, I’d find hilarious too). Another one was also a prompt—this time from a music video. Coincidentally, it was done on Friday the 13th, in Berlin a few months ago: a devilish bird creature tattoo on a hand. The person had a realistic Satan tattoo on their other hand, so my single-line cartoonish one made a fun contrast.

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Definitely the smallest one I’ve made so far (though the most agonizing from the very exaggerated sounds of it) is a little key on my mom—just something to tell my children, if I ever have any, about their mother-grandmother relationship “back in the wild 2010s.” And honorable mention goes to my classmate for my very first tattoo. I’m really grateful because otherwise I might never have started. It was done at my studio desk the night after a deadline, and the guard almost caught us but then found out later anyway. Does drawing help you in architecture or visualization? My mom let me play with Photoshop as a kid, and I got basic knowledge which helped when I started using Photoshop for editing sketches later—adding backgrounds, textures, and so on. I think this later translated into my absolute love for Photoshop as an architectural drawing tool. I’m not sure if this is necessarily a cause, but as a child I used to draw these single-line drawings (actually now as I think back, quite a lot of whimsical Bjarke Ingels-like high-rise buildings).

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When I started architecture school, I found sketching to be my main design development method, taking up 85% or more of the time given for a project (too bad for me during desk crits). It is very hard for me to stop and force myself out of a sketchbook to more presentable computer drawings or even hand drafting. Otherwise, I wouldnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t say there is a direct connection between drawing and architecture for me. More often, drawing is just a needed break from architecture (no offense to architecture). However, at some point of my conscious relationship with architecture, I felt that everything is architecture in some way or another. I did notice my thoughts, interests, priorities, and consequently (inevitably) drawings change since starting at Waterloo. I think the drawings became more â&#x20AC;&#x153;mature,â&#x20AC;? and a little more existential.

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Fluffy steamed buns and egg tarts at Bun House, a Cantonese-style joint in Leicester Square

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lamenting leaving london article by abhishek ambekar My first solo trip to the British capital took place right after my first year of undergrad, following a tight deadline for Terri Boake’s 1B steel competition. I spent four days of my summer break with cousins residing in a toddler-friendly neighbourhood on the Isle of Dogs in eastern London. Flash forward to three years later, and my fourth co-op through the University of Waterloo gave me the opportunity to work and live in London in an apartment by Tufnell Park. While I could easily walk to work in fifteen minutes, I took the tube to try out the restaurants that my friends and co-workers recommended. One spot that holds a particularly potent presence ABHISHEK AMBEKAR

“Alas, I could obsess and document each dessert, each meal, and each restaurant interior endlessly.” in London’s East Asian food scene is Bao, a small establishment carrying varieties of steamed buns (ice cream included), cocktails and bubble tea, as well as specialties including pig blood cake. The tiny dishes, rich in flavour, justified spending over 30 pounds in one sitting, as servers come ready to greet and serve every 10 minutes or so. I remember coming to Bao 15 minutes before it opened on a Sunday morning 165

Bao, 53 Lexington Ave, and watercolor sketches while visiting in April 2017

and seeing another person in front of me who was first in the queue to enter. While waiting, I sketched the restaurant’s elevation before it opened at noon. The person ahead of me was a big foodie and a Chelsea’s soccer fan, travelling from Germany to see them play the next day. We ended up being the first two to get a table and had lunch together. Now we stay connected through Instagram: every so often we exchange recommendations on where to go. While Bao is a fusion of slightly upscale Taiwanese dining and traditional British dishes, the city is filled with restaurants of all kinds, and consequently there are often queues. But I’ve always enjoyed the excitement of waiting and deciding what to order in advance. Alas, I could obsess and document each dessert, each meal, and each restaurant interior endlessly, feeding an eye-candied

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infatuation spurred by Instagram food bloggers capturing the city’s eccentric food scene. Lily Vanili, a humble bakery that started up 10 years ago, is no exception to queues, drawing in flocks of locals to Columbia Market on Sundays. A bakery open to the public only one day a week is a risky business, but Lily has managed to garner a base of committed customers. While the self-trained baker accepts orders for wedding or birthday cakes all week long, Sundays are her opportunity to showcase her creative inventions. Tarts and cakes alternate every week and are posted seductively on Instagram to hype the public. Minutes away from Lily Vanili is Shoreditch, a neighbourhood home to wonderful cafés. Surprisingly, these are often part of hipster hotels for young millenials, or Gen Z cohorts. Ace Hotel and Corner Room is one of the many cafés that present lavish desserts, equally impressive in taste as they

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in conversation with abhishek You’re a huge foodie, so I’m wondering what were your top places to eat in each city you did a co-op in (Paris, Toronto, Vancouver, and London)? ABHISHEK AMBEKAR: In Paris, Republique is probably my favourite area because you can find Mexican, Spanish, and French fusion food, which is really good. There’s also Holybelly, which is Australian. I went there! At your recommendation. The menu is in English but they talk to you in French or English. It’s inviting for everyone. There’s this bar called Candelaria which is one of the top 20 bars in the world. It’s this really tiny, claustrophobic bar where they make shaved ice drinks and tacos and Mexican brownies with pepper inside. And in Toronto, Rosedale is a nice area for ice cream, juices, burgers and sandwiches. Vancouver has a lot of seafood and different types of fish. You should try this sushi called Samon Oshi Zuchi—it’s like fried cheese with salmon and miso glaze. Do you have any tips for budget travel? How do you save money? Europe is definitely harder than everywhere else. A lot of firms in Europe give meal coupons that give discounts on groceries and lunch deals. Bakeries are so cheap. Monoprix [the grocery store] is the cheapest

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place to buy baked goods for under a euro. But Europe is hard to save up for. In Toronto and Vancouver, Chinese bun shops are always great for deals. Sushi places are quite cheap in grocery stores in Vancouver— you can get deals for 5 or 6 bucks. I think it’s really competitive, so there’s this one place called Fiji Market in Vancouver that sells the least expensive sushi. Other than that, food is not really my department of saving. Yes, I had that impression! I wanted to ask you about the residence you were living in in Paris, because it sounds like you had a nice community of people that you got to know. How was that? It was great—I think dinner was the best time every day because I’d come home at 8pm and everyone would still be there. There was one kitchen in the basement, and everyone was either a student or intern in Paris—17 was the youngest and 31 the oldest, so it was a similar demographic. Everyone would cook at the same time, everyone shared the pans and stuff, and we’d have a calendar so people would clean every week or so. It was good, collectively it worked out pretty well and I think people didn’t mind the lack of privacy.

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“Desserts like these, with affordable prices, are rare to find in the city.”

are in presentation. Desserts like these, with affordable prices, are rare to find in the city, and both cafés are decked with industrialstyle long wooden tables and elegant light fixtures. I would spend time at the Corner Room cafe reading a novel or working on a digital sketch. I would be lying if I said that Instagram is not linked to my desire to consume endlessly. I have an account dedicated to drawings of meals or bakery choices from chefs I admire. Once, I posted a picture of kinako french toast—a scrumptious concoction with fluffy brioche and a side of matcha ice cream, a much-loved staple from a Japanese food joint, Shackfuyu. A few weeks later, my friend Iryna messaged me after seeing the post, exclaiming, “I took Andy to this Japanese place bc I saw it on your story and the French toast was v v nice... we went twice.” It is undeniably hard to resist trying new food that your friends post online. It was actually the same dessert that Will, whom I ate out with at Bao in 2017, recommended to me.

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I am more grateful than ever to discover new restaurants, bakeries, and cafes, whether from photographers I follow, new people I meet, or friends and family. The power of food to connect is indescribable, especially now that I am writing from home in Northern Ontario following a co-op that ended too quickly as a result of COVID-19. I can appreciate how meaningful my time in London was, and reflect on the places that I would love to return to given the opportunity. Until then, I aim to bake and cook recipes gathered from online sources, with a dwindling supply of eggs and flour left over in my parents’ kitchen.

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Top: Carrot cake at Ace Hotel Shoreditch Center: Orange rhubarb tart Bottom: Cherry cake from Lily Vanili Bakery

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music from coast to coast a conversation with lauren patrick You’ve worked in both Vancouver and San Francisco. What do you like about the West Coast? LAUREN PATRICK: I feel like the West Coast lifestyle is very different. It’s a lot slower, and people take time to have a full conversation with you. Everything’s just a little bit less urgent. Work is important, but living is also important. I also noticed that when it’s lunch time, the office clears out— people love to get out and take advantage of the beauty of being on the coast. I’ve heard that other people have found being on the West coast positive for their mental health. Did you spend time doing things that allowed you to focus on mental health?

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I think so. I definitely hiked a lot in both Vancouver and San Francisco. Hiking by yourself is nice—it’s really calming. So I think that was good for mental health. In Vancouver, I just sat on the beach a lot. Reading, eating dinner, just being very calm. I think New York brought different hobbies— it brought cultural hobbies. Because it’s such a big city, there’s always so much to explore. That was also healthy for me, in a different way. I think New York feels very “me” because you can easily find community there. People are so interesting and come from different walks of life. But then, when I want to be more introspective, that was Vancouver for me. San Francisco was kind of in-between, because you can get a bit of that culture, that spunk, when you travel in the Bay Area.

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“I always go to concerts, in every city [...] There’s nothing better than live music, so I try to take advantage of it.”

I know music is important to you. What music did you listen to during your co-ops? Music that was reflective of your mood? In Toronto, I listened to a lot of sad music, and I think that reflected my mood. I mean, it was an hour-long commute, you have to wear a big jacket, you’re cold, you’re going to a small office: it was sad. In Vancouver, I listened to a lot of calm, beautiful music. I actually put it on the other day—Julie Byrne, and the album is called ‘Not Even Happiness’. I listened to peaceful music, a lot of guitar and gentle voices. New York was spunky music with attitude. And because I ran a lot, I needed music that was energetic. I did listen to more R&B and rap music and I think that was reflective of where I was living. Now that I’ve come back from San Francisco, I’m listening to Spanish music, because there was an area in the Mission

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near where I lived with a lot of Hispanic influence, so maybe that’s where that came from. If you feel nostalgic for a certain place, will you ever listen to the music that you listened to then and just be transported back? Actually, yes. I made a playlist of all my mostlistened-to music from San Francisco. It’s a two hour long playlist and sometimes I do put it on. Not often, because it’s still too raw. The other day, I put on that Julie Byrne album and it’s nice to go back to that Vancouver calmness. Not the Toronto music so much. Music can be introspective, but it also brings people together. Were you engaged in the music scenes in the cities you went to? I always go to concerts, in every city. I look to see if any of my favourite artists are playing in that city, and then I’ll just go. There’s nothing better than live music, so I always try to take advantage of it.

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What kind of experiences have you had? It’s usually a very warm experience—I can talk about one in San Francisco that was different. I saw Lief Vollebekk—he’s actually from Montreal but sings in English. Rebecca Foon opened it, she’s a cellist. This was my first experience where people actually sat down in the concert venue. It was more formal, then? Well, there were no seats. It was a standing room-only venue like small venues usually are, but people sat down on the ground cross-legged, and it was the weirdest thing ever. But it was kind of amazing. The artist made a comment like “oh it’s so nice, it’s like you’re in my living room.” Have you read any interesting books on co-ops that stand out to you? I do have very distinct book memories. One day in New York, I was reading James Baldwin’s Giovanni’s Room, and I had a couple pages left and I just couldn’t go to work—I had to finish it. So I stopped off at the park to read the last couple pages. What else . . . Flowers for Algernon, I read that in Vancouver. It was so sad. Also I read a book about 9-11 called 102 minutes. That book was good, but heavy. I try to read a lot, especially if I’m commuting. I was reading one book in New York, How to Win Friends and Influence People—it’s classic self-help.

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That sounds kind of sinister? A bit Macchiavellian? Right? But it’s self-help. I was on the subway and I was reading it, and there was a guy beside me and I could see he was looking over at my book, but I just kept going. You know when they have the title at the top—he was obviously trying to read that. Then he turned to me and was like, “Are you reading that seriously or ironically?” I wasn’t that far into it so I was like, “Umm, I don’t know?” Then when I got to the end I figured out what he meant. You’re exactly right, it’s a bit sinister—not how to trick people, but it’s a little bit manipulative. Another time, I was commuting and someone stopped me and said, “Oh that’s so sad, that book is so sad…” But I was like, “Don’t spoil it, I haven’t gotten to the sad part yet!” Do you generally bring books with you, or buy them there? Or borrow them? I always borrow. I have my little collection of library cards from all the places I’ve been to. I hop libraries, so I’ve always been to multiple libraries in the city. Any particular favourite ones? I think resource-wise, the San Francisco Central Library was very interesting. They have a lot of different areas dedicated to different things. San Francisco’s so liberal and I feel like they want every voice to be heard, so they had the biggest Black History section I’d ever seen, with walls and walls of books.

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[NEW YORK]

[TORONTO] You Missed My Heart Phoebe Bridgers Between the soft piano and Phoebe’s unadorned vocals, the peculiarly vivid lyrics of this song lulled me away from the TCC’s daily delays: “Downriver from the Moundsville prison graveyard” quickly became an odd morning mantra.

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On My Way Home Angelo De Augustine My Friday evening commute song! I can’t hear “I’m on my way home!” and not smile.

Issues/Hold On Teyana Taylor I would like to formally What’d You Release? apologize to a classmate with whom Tim Darcy I shared a wall during “But there’s a pain this co-op. ‘Issues/ beyond that glass, Hold On’ was my that you only get morning alarm so rid of when you’re we were both subject wet to bone.” For to Teyana’s daily the cold slushy reminder that “love days where I would ain’t a game full of X’s (melodramatically) and O’s”. Although dread the long I’d say not only is that commute home. a valuable sentiment, but it’s also probably a lot more pleasant than aggressive beeping.

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[NEW YORK] Mexican Chef Xenia Rubinos In Brooklyn, I lived in a neighbourhood on the brink of gentrification. I went into an office of just over one hundred people where I was amongst only three other Black employees. One lunchtime, I stood in a line otherwise comprised entirely of white businesspeople, having our lunch demands fulfilled by solely Black and Brown workers. Identity is sometimes something you fumble through; “It’s a party across America, bachata in the back.”

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[VANCOUVER] Manhattan Cat Power Cheesy I know! But when in New York how can you not indulge in at least one of the many wonderful songs about the city!? “Free speech, lipstick and the moonlight” is called for, and I am glad to report that I satisfied two of the three.

Wherever It May Take Us The Stockholm Quartet I played this song a total of 150 times in 2019 (yes, there are trackers for these things.) This jazz number served as background music whenever I read during my commutes. It was especially helpful in drowning out the infamous “back door!” shouts as people tried to squeeze their way out of the always packed #2 bus.

Sleepwalker Julie Byrne There was no greater morning than finding a quiet spot somewhere between Jericho and Kits Beach and watching the tide creep up with the rising sun. During my time in Vancouver, “I grew so accustomed to that kind of solitude.”

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[SAN FRANCISCO] no name noname “No name for private corporations to send emails to. ‘Cause when we walk into heaven, nobody’s name gon’ exist. Just boundless movement for joy, nakedness radiance.” Wisdom best enjoyed at the peak of an evening hike where you can see far beyond where you thought you’d be able to.

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Chariot Mega Another morning alarm! This one eerily spoke of times where some omnipresent force would “Take you back to where you’re from, Chariot.” Odd how that worked out? Speaking things into existence, maybe? Law of attraction? Pure coincidence?

The Vow FIELDED “You say I’m impatient and that time will provide, but you know in my mind, that time is not on my side” feels like it could have been one of my teary-eyed voice notes to the city.

Morning Dew Kelsey Lu Back in Canada now, with space in a backyard to sit around and all the time to try to come to peace with this stillness. In beautiful breathy vocals and fingerpicked guitars, I’m reminded to “wash off the old, put on the new. . . Morning dew, I’m mourning you”.

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“We were almost at cloud level or even above it—between the clouds at the bottom you could see Vancouver.”

San Francisco watercolour

The Golden Gate Bridge watercolour was from my weekend trip to San Francisco from Vancouver. The next few days after coming back, I drew this in my room because I just needed to capture the lighting of the rain, and the whole relaxed mood. It was so lovely to walk down the beach with my classmates.

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kung fu + skiing in the clouds a conversation with janna kohlodova Where have you worked so far, and what’s been your favourite experience? JANNA KOHLODOVA: My first co-op was in Vancouver at IBI, and I can already say that was my favourite. I went out on the weekends and there was a library nearby, and I signed up for kung fu, and actually had a life. It was great. I also did a co-op in Stratford, and lived at home in Waterloo for that term. Did you enjoy exploring Vancouver? Yeah! I went skiing one time, and I will never go back to Chicopee [ski hill in Ontario]. Was that really intense? We went to Cypress Mountain—it was the second most expensive one because we JANNA KOHLODOVA

found a sale for tickets. We rented all the gear, and my brother came with me for the weekend. We only went down six times in six hours because it literally took half an hour to go down. When a cloud would pass through, it would become foggy. We were almost at cloud level or even above it — between the clouds at the bottom you could see Vancouver. We kept going down the ski slope called Panoramic Hill, and I think they called it that because you had a panoramic view of the mountains and Vancouver in the background. It was the most beautiful thing ever! It’s been a year, and my brother and I still talk about it. My friend from kung fu also took me snowshoeing for the first time. And I visited the library a lot. Architecturally, it was inspired by the Roman Colosseum.

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You mentioned that enjoy listening to music. Did you discover any new artists during your co-ops? Actually, in Vancouver, I discovered a whole new genre of music that I like: Maritime Swing. It’s very specific and I didn’t know I liked it. My university friend loves it, but I

Would you do another co-op in Vancouver?

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never really cared for it previously. Then it turned out my new kung fu friend loved it too, so he showed me a couple songs and now I get recommendations from both of them. So I discovered Katzenjammer even though I technically knew about them like a year before, but I didn’t really care about them until Vancouver.

I really want to go back in January, actually, for the 8-month co-op. I loved it in the winter, so I’m going to love it even more in the spring and summer. I could go hiking instead of snow-shoeing! Actually, it wasn’t that cold. It snowed very rarely—it rained mostly. You can see it in the architecture: they’ve got these little rain barriers over everything so you can walk down the streets and you can still be sheltered. In Vancouver, the public transport is so amazing—I would move back there just for the transit system. It was a 30-minute bus ride to go to work. It was lovely because I worked in downtown Vancouver and if you looked out the window you could see North Vancouver in the background with the water. It was very beautiful. PERIPATETIC MAGAZINE

Vancouver mountains watercolour

JANNA KOHLODOVA

The mountain view shows downtown Vancouver in the back, from when I went hiking in the mountains! I drew this one at home once my co-op was over and I left Vancouver, and it let me re-experience the beautiful scenery and memories.

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the road less traveled Studying architecture is interdisciplinary, and many students choose to work outside of traditional architectural offices. From E-coops in publication to graphic design to fashion design, these stories of alternative workplaces both diverge from and intersect with the broad field of architecture and design. What can we bring to other disciplines, and what can we bring back?

reimagining colour

compassionate architecture

making chutney

irynaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s lonely planet

composing, constructing

a sinking city, trekking active volcanoes, and gotong royong

iris redinger 184 - 191

osman bari 216 - 223

nick lupescu 260 - 267

shiuli mukherjee 192 - 197

iryna humenyuk 224 - 235

simone delaney 268 - 277

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in the land of the midnight sun

design with colour

temporal theatrics

gesture and light

sarah mason 198 - 207

hannah connolly + jieyu wang 236 - 243

niara van gaalen 208 - 215

patrick stephen 244 - 259

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follow @iris_redinger + materialfutureslab.com

reimagining colour

a conversation with iris redinger

What were you doing for your E co-op (January-September 2020)? IRIS REDINGER: I started a company called Material Futures Lab that is officially registered and incorporated in Ontario. What Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m working on is using bacteria to produce pigments. I started out by looking at issues in the fashion world stemming from waste and pollution. I was curious about where colours come from, and how different chemicals aid in the dyeing process. I looked at colours that come from plants that were historically used in colouring foods or clothing, and I found that a lot of them have ceremonial importance in Indigenous communities. I started thinking about using more modern technologies and natural processes, such as synthetic 184

biology, that has the ability to engineer life. There are a lot of pharmaceutical chemicals produced that way, but I was curious to see if I could do it with colour and if it could be implemented at a commercial scale. How do you go about testing and searching for these pigments? Before the E co-op, I was tackling this problem through an independent research elective in second year and in my personal free time. I read a lot of literature available through scientific databases on the University of Waterlooâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s library webpage, looking for things that exist in nature but havenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t been commercialized for this purpose. I was also looking at the industrial requirements for colours when

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Top: Hiking the Appenzell Alps Center: Photograph taken on the way to visit Doug Aitken’s “Mirror House” Bottom: A photograph of Locarno at dusk after eating great pasta!

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used in different applications. I talked to people in the fashion world and the coloring industry about what would be considered commercially viable, because they have a better understanding of the performance qualities of colours. Many colours that are derived from plants or bacteria fade when they’re exposed to light, or bleed out in the wash. It’s been an interesting process getting to know the chemical makeup of colours. What stage are you at now with producing these pigments using bacteria? At this point, we’ve engineered a strain of bacteria to produce a colour of interest. We began early testing in January, which showed that the colour worked well when we dyed fabric samples. Our process is incredibly sustainable compared to current methods of synthetically producing colourants, which use mainly petroleumbased products. Ours is a fully natural extraction process, using all bio-based molecules. We also have ongoing partnerships with industry stakeholders who are helping us navigate some of the regulations and messaging behind this type of technology. It will take more time to get to market, especially with the pandemic, since the research and development stages have been delayed significantly. But it’s very encouraging for us that we’ve gotten this far already. Have you been working across fields with people in biology or other areas?

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Yes, it’s been a really interesting crosspollination, a multidisciplinary endeavor. It started in 2018 with myself and a biology student. I put out a post on Facebook about the project and asked if anyone was interested in collaborating. A student replied saying he was in fourth year, had a bit of time, and was interested in entrepreneurship. So we started working on it as a team, but he graduated the next semester. At that point we weren’t even an official company yet, just two people with an idea. After he left, I began collaborating with chemical engineering and pharmacy professors at UW who have a lot of experience manufacturing organisms. I also teamed up with co-op students in biology, organic chemistry, and metabolic engineering. I did a co-op in Boston, which allowed me to work with students at MIT, and we pitched our idea there last May. It’s been a wild journey. I was working with a coop student in January, who studies medicinal chemistry at Waterloo and had already worked with bacteria, so she brought a lot of knowledge about extraction and purification. Over the summer, volunteers and researchers worked on designing and engineering the strains. There has been a lot of research into the industry and regulations to find out how to scale up this process, since we started by looking at this from a research perspective but now also from a start-up perspective. We’ve filed a provisional patent. We’ve gained resources through the start-up community

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How does it work exactly—does each bacteria strain correspond to just one colour?

We’ve engineered a strain specifically for a bluish colour. Some colours are pH sensitive, so if you change the pH of the dye bath or the growing medium it can produce different colours. In our case, the blue colour is pH nonsensitive. For example, we can dye wool in a very acidic pH or cellulose in a more alkaline pH and it’s still the same colour. We’re also looking at other strains that can produce different colours.

at the university, in Kitchener-Waterloo, and in Boston, and we’re now also involving different people from around the world who are interested in the topic. Since you’ve been working on this for a couple years, have you spent multiple co-ops on this project? It started in 2018 when I did an independent research elective during the 2B term, with Prof. Philip Beelsey as my academic supervisor. I hosted a small symposium at the BRIDGE storefront at the end of the summer, and that fall we pitched at Velocity 5K (now called Concept 5K). We were one of the winners! That was really exciting and it gave us a lot of encouragement to continue. But we knew that $5000 wasn’t enough to commit to it full time or to pay IRIS REDINGER

for a co-op student. So we knew we had to fundraise or bootstrap it until we could raise more money. We applied for a program out of the Accelerator Center in KW, which supports small business and growing companies. We found out that we were accepted for it, which included a $60,000 grant, while I was on exchange at ETH Zurich in 2019. I was ecstatic! At that point I had an architectural position lined up in Zurich, but I decided instead to work on the project full-time for my 8-month co-op. Since January, I’ve learned a lot about running a start-up, especially in terms of financing, product development and branding. It’s been a fun road.

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“From my experience, ideas don’t just get picked up by people organically. Often, there has to be an advocate and a messenger for an idea to go somewhere. This opportunity has allowed me to explore something outside the traditional bounds of architecture.”

Did you have any previous experiences in entrepreneurship, or was it a steep learning curve? Where did you find resources? The project has taken a more commercial angle since the beginning. And that’s been scary to learn—it’s not just an art project: it has to make sense from a cost perspective. But on the same note, this is something that could be worn or be in someone’s closet. People could experience this on a daily level. I’m open to the scope of the project changing. It’s positive to think bigger sometimes. In terms of resources, I learned a lot through the Accelerator Centre. We had one-on-one meetings with people in business, accounting, and marketing. Once your technology is more developed, you can apply for grants from the Government of Canada to hire employees, grow your product, and start to sell it commercially. MaRS Discovery in Toronto has a website and a start-up toolkit where they teach you step-by-step how to create a business model and what to test with your customers. There’s also funding from the Canadian government for grants to develop projects, and it doesn’t just have to be a startup or a technology. It can also just be an installation or an innovation. If you decide that you want to build something from the ground up, you have to know what your channels are—who will be impacted and who will pay for that impact to happen. Not a lot of students are aware of these channels, especially at the undergraduate level. IRIS REDINGER

You took a lot of initiative to step outside of a typical architecture career path for an undergraduate student. Do you see your start-up as connected to architecture, or is it completely separate? When I started out I wondered, “Is this even possible as an architecture student?” I feel like I’m a bit myopic—it’s so close that I can’t yet see the bigger picture. I do feel it will overlap with architecture at some point, but I don’t think I have enough perspective yet to say how. Sometimes it feels that I’m outside the realm of architecture entirely, and if I want to keep my doors open I should be codeveloping certain technical skills. Do you think there are any transferable skills to architecture? I’ve gained the most from being able to take an idea to the next step. At Waterloo Architecture, it’s hard to do within the scope of a four month semester or a single studio. Students here have such good ideas, but there isn’t an avenue to bring them into fruition and put them out in the world. And from my experience, ideas don’t just get picked up by people organically. Often, there has to be an advocate and a messenger for an idea to go somewhere. This opportunity has allowed me to explore something outside the traditional bounds of architecture, but something that can really impact the world.

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You’ve travelled quite a lot, including your exchange term in Zurich—how do you take your work with you? Have you found people with similar interests?

I think the work always comes with where I go. But when I’m surrounded by a different culture and language, I’m there to learn from people who have experiences so different from my own. I was on exchange at ETH Zurich for two semesters, totally immersed in a Germanspeaking culture. In the second semester, I found myself in Tokyo for ten days eating fish for three meals a day. In these moments, life becomes more overwhelming than the work. But this was an atypical experience that I am fortunate to have had. At ETH, they have excellent workshop facilities and many computation and fabrication courses, but they don’t really have biology facilities for bio-design. Architecture students are not working in wet labs! Although you can see that starting to happen at the Bartlett or other specialized programs in the United States. The work doesn’t have a home in that context, but I still enjoy talking about my ideas with my peers. As architects, it’s hard to leave our ideas in the drawer; although we are frequently challenged to find time for our personal interests and side hustles, somehow we manage.

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On a hike over the weekend in the Appenzell Alps IRIS REDINGER

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compassionate architecture a conversation with shiuli mukherjee Tell us about the firm you worked at. SHIULI MUKHERJEE: I did most of my co-ops at Hilditch Architect: three terms, including my 8-month co-op. They do affordable housing, transitional housing, emergency shelters, that type of work. It was the most rewarding workplace I’ve ever been in. They helped me empathize with the people coming into a space. How can we design for people who have been domestically abused? Or people with disabilities? Can you design a hallway so a person doesn’t feel depressed? They really made me think about those things, which we never think about in first or second year of architecture school. Were you encountering a lot of perspectives that you hadn’t seen before?

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“How can we design for people who have been domestically abused? Or people with disabilities?” In my second year, I attended a neighborhood meeting, because we were building a transitional men’s shelter in the middle of that neighbourhood. We were converting an existing residential home into a shelter, and no one wanted men hanging around the public school nearby and smoking. That was their idea of what a shelter would look like. I did a render to show how the place would look and they started picking on the slightest detail . . . It was difficult to face a critical audience that did not want something built. But I was lucky, since I was shielded very well—everyone around me knew what kind of work they were doing, and they didn’t want to throw me into it. They always knew what to say in those situations, so it was a learning experience to watch them. Did a lot of the public projects involve community discussions? Most of the projects involved discussions with a non-profit, as opposed to the Toronto Community Housing Corporation (TCHC). The TCHC is basically an organization that does affordable housing run by the city. They usually have these big buildings with affordable housing units, and it’s very hard to get in. So the homeless people you see on SHIULI MUKHERJEE

the street—they didn’t get in. Now the TCHC gives out contracts to non-profits because they’re not able to do big buildings in a small neighbourhood. They started doing smaller buildings, so we take two or three residential houses in a neighbourhood and convert them into transitional housing. Since you worked at the same office a few times, did your role change over the years? When it came to design, they expected me to do a lot of things on my own. I felt fairly independent in my decision-making, even though in the first few years I didn’t know the trade very well. They made me look beyond my horizons—I did a lot of drawings in quick succession. There were a lot of technical details to redesign, and my class had not done technical details at that point. I didn’t even know about retrofitting back then, but one of my colleagues went out of his way and taught me what each component of a wall looks like and how it functions. They’d always be very open to my questions, sitting me down and taking me through everything, which is a bit more challenging in school. In their office, I found that they were happy to answer any questions I had with exceptional openness and humility. 193

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“If you want a space to be public, don’t make it too small, but not so big as to feel isolating. Don’t give it private ownership [...] The main thing to remember is that all humans need dignity, and giving people dignity through space is the best thing architects can do.”

This is not glamorous work on a regular basis. The budget is low, high durability is required, and many design constraints are put in place by the law. But the ‘glamour’ lies in making that difference in people’s lives: making that one central space with modest materials, but filled with light, and seeing the joy that people have using that space.

How did working at this office shape your idea of how architects can advocate for social change? I always knew that I wanted to do sociallyresponsible design. I wanted to do something that was making an immediate difference in society. That’s why I really pushed to get into this office, because they don’t take interns on a regular basis. It’s very clear to me that design is usually meant for the rich, meant to create novelty and luxury, especially in residential projects. I don’t want to be that kind of a designer. Working at this office didn’t really shift my worldview dramatically—I grew up in India where my mom was a social worker. I have already seen difficult social situations in difficult spaces, so it just felt like I had realized my ambitions by working here and seeing the people whose lives are affected by the work. We had full agency to create ideas for social

SHIULI MUKHERJEE

change, but the basics are generally what people need—restore a person’s dignity with shelter and comfort, and create a beautiful space for them to come together, to cook and eat. There was perhaps more scope to come up with building science innovations — how to create efficient enclosures on retrofits, how to connect two buildings. My co-workers were the ones who taught me how to design spaces properly. Now that I’m doing plans and sections for school, I realize that I do them very quickly, and the design is working very quickly. They taught me how to put a door in the right place instinctively—I don’t have to think twice about it.

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So it gave you a new approach to designing in school. Aside from details and technical drawings, what are some lessons you learned? The soft skills are more difficult to communicate. I don’t notice what I’ve learned until I see my colleagues’ work and where they have chosen to focus with design. Because of the current political environment, I’ve noticed people keep talking about being ‘empathic’ in their design and creating spaces for women, for Black people, inclusive and diverse spaces— and I realized that’s what my firm has been doing for the past 30 or 40 years. That’s just how they approach design. Those little things make a big difference. If you want a space to be public, don’t make it too small, but not so big as to feel isolating. Don’t give it private ownership. Creating truly public space is a mindset. Be aware of human proportions and all the basic things taught in school. The main thing to remember is that all humans need dignity, and giving people dignity through space is the best thing architects can do. Do you find that it’s hard to advocate for the architecture when all of these other forces are trying to give you the difficult site, the small budget? It’s not hard, you just need to decide what to do. Building on a low budget is not impossible, and it’s not a task that has never been undertaken. You probably won’t be

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able to make those beautiful architectural details if you have a low budget. But your priorities need to be clear—creating inclusive spaces doesn’t cost a lot if you have the determination to make sure that they really get built. The main hurdle is time—things go a bit slower. It can take five years to get a project started, which is fine if you’re committed to making the project see the light of day. You just have to wait it out. How do these projects get started? Does the City approach the office? Usually, a non-profit comes up with the idea of what they want to build, and then the government or the City will pay a certain amount of the share. Then they have private and public donors raise money. That’s how smaller projects get started. When the projects are bigger, like a health centre, sometimes the Ministry of Health steps in. Or you raise the money by bringing in private stakeholders to take maybe 20% of the cost by giving them a space in the building. The building materials change with the budget, so we have backup material palettes. It involves a lot of thinking in three or four different backup plans. Last year the firm wrote a shelter design guideline for the City. We did public meetings with people who had lived in and worked at shelters, and we had a mediator come in and drive the questions and conversation to let us know what works and what doesn’t. The process reviewed 50 or 60 shelters in the city.

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If you could change one thing in our curriculum to somehow bring in that mindset you’ve learned at the office, what would you do?

There are a lot of things I would change. There’s not enough compassion in architecture school, yet we keep saying we want to build compassionate spaces. And I wish we weren’t quite so isolated from other disciplines in our school in Cambridge. We want to design for people, but we hardly have any chance to engage socially with the town. We yearn to create beautiful artists’ homes, but we haven’t ventured to address the homelessness issue in Galt as a group. When we are so remote, we don’t get a chance to collaborate with planning students or environmental design students, for instance. Social sciences and drama are definitely fields that our school could easily collaborate with, because of our focus on cultural history. I just feel we’re missing out on opportunities.

SHIULI MUKHERJEE

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This photo was taken from a secluded campsite. I loved this mountain because of the purple tones on the rock. A picture of me at the top of a sand dune at the Carcross Desert overlooking Bennett Lake. The Carcross Desert is known as the smallest desert in the world and is surrounded by stunning mountain ranges. Who wouldâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ve known that the Yukon had so much sand!

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follow @sarah_elisabeth_mason

in the land of the midnight sun

a conversation with sarah mason

Can you tell us about your co-op term in northern Canada? SARAH MASON: Last summer, I went to the Yukon for my third co-op. That was one of the best experiences I’ve had. The location was stunning, and because I was working at a small firm of 12 employees I was given a lot of responsibility. I went on site visits, met with clients, and worked on one minor renovation project by myself. My firm was so welcoming—they really made me feel like a part of the team, and we did a lot of team building activities together. What kinds of activities? The office joined a bike race that started in a small town called Haines Junction, and went to another small town also called Haines near the Canadian border in Alaska. It was

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a whole day event, from 8 am to 7 pm. It was those things we did as a firm where I really felt like I was part of the team and part of Whitehorse. I made friends with my coworkers and ended up going camping with them nearly every weekend. How did the cold environment affect your lifestyle? Did you stay indoors all the time? I wasn’t living there in the winter, so it didn’t get that cold. It was still cooler than typical Ontario summer weather, but no humidity. The first week of my co-op, there was a bit of snow, and my last week in late August I went camping and my water bottle froze. But that was the coldest it got for me. There’s a saying that goes, “There’s no such thing as bad weather, only bad

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clothing.” People still go outside in the winter, but wear many layers of clothing. Even though Whitehorse is small and remote, the community hosts many events and festivals, so they’re constantly getting people engaged—it’s a very active community. In the winter, they have dog sled races, downhill skiing, cross-country skiing, and traditional winter games as well. That being said, it’s very dark. On an average winter day, they’re only getting six hours of light. Designing for that climate becomes interesting—you want to get as much natural light as possible, but still keep the building airtight and warm. Then in the summer, they have nearly 24 hours of daylight during the solstice. When I was there, the sun set between 11 pm and midnight. So you have two extremes that you’re designing for.

“There’s a saying that goes, ‘There’s no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing.’” What was your motivation to go to the Yukon? And what were your expectations going there? I wanted to experience living in a more remote place. I did a lot of traveling outside Canada when I took a year off before university, but not within my own country. I was interested in working for a firm that designs for the harsh northern climate. Their winters get down to - 20°C every day, and

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that’s a warm day. I remember a person telling me that last winter they had a 20° swing in one day—it went from -40°C to -20°C. In Ontario, we have cold winters and hot summers, but for the most part, the climate isn’t such a big influence on our design. There, you don’t put big windows on your buildings because you’ll freeze in the winter, and the walls are really thick with insulation. Another reason I wanted to go to the Yukon was to work with Indigenous communities. In Canada, we’re a diverse country, but not an equal country. At the firm I worked at, Kobayashi + Zedda Architects, you could tell they worked closely with the communities around where they were designing. They design a lot of cultural centres, as well as some residential and institutional work. During my time at the office, I worked on a food station, a community centre, a cultural centre, a small apartment building, and military accommodations for the army based there. In the Yukon, there are 14 different Indigenous groups and each one has their own cultural centre, which is where they run their government and host events. What are the community centres like across different Indigenous groups? They use a lot of natural materials in their buildings, like woods that are native to the area. We use a lot of symbolism, including artwork and colours that are representative

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One of my most cherished places in the Yukon—my ‘sit-spot.’ Just a 15 minute walk from where I was living, this lookout on top of a sand bank was where I would go almost daily to read, journal, reflect and appreciate where I was.

of the community that we’re designing for. And directionality—east and west—is important. Entrances face east so that when you enter, you’re moving west and in the same direction as the path of the sun. The outdoor space is important because it’s used for open fires, singing, and dancing, which is integral to their culture. Almost every building I visited had a large body of water behind it. For example, the centre for the Kwanlin Dun First Nation, whose land is where Whitehorse resides, is by the Yukon River. Outside the cultural centre is a large gravel area with stones and a fire pit, and beside that is the river. Another one is the Carcross/Tagish First Nation Cultural Centre, which is part of the Carcross/Tagish

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First Nation. They have a beautiful stone fire pit area built right into a hill overlooking the lake. So the outdoor space is just as important as the interior. How did the firm go about working with the Indigenous communities? The Indigenous groups in the Yukon are mainly self-governing, so designing these community centres is similar to designing their local government buildings. In the Yukon, there are a lot of communities that still aren’t accessible by car. I was working on a project in Old Crow, which has a population of around 300 people, and you can only get there by plane. We were designing a community centre with a big 201

Yukon is called “the land of the midnight sun” in the summer because some days the sun never sets. This photo was taken just past midnight one summer evening. That night we arrived late to a campsite after a workday but we still got to put our tent up in the light!

interior space for community events, with a window in the centre and vaulted ceilings. But the challenge was: how do you get the materials there? They had to fly over with steel beams, one at a time. We also worked on an emergency rescue building on Mount Logan, the tallest mountain range in Canada, as a rest stop for people travelling there to warm up. It was designed to be built in modules so that it could be flown over in pieces by a helicopter through the mountains, and then assembled on site. The connections of the modules had to be very precise since they couldn’t bring a lot of tools and equipment. In retrospect, the average designer doesn’t have to think about how they’re getting their material from point A to B. Materials just show up on site. That’s really interesting, because I have the impression that in cities, architects often end up designing for other architects or for their privileged clients. It seems like in the north,

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being an architect is more about working with the community. Can you talk about a specific project where you worked with the community as a client? For the last few months of my coop, I worked on the homeless shelter in Whitehorse, which was the only homeless shelter in the Yukon territory. It’s a very interesting challenge because everyone who was homeless came to use the same shelter. Although the Yukon is quite diverse—people come there from elsewhere in Canada for a more relaxed lifestyle—around 80% of the people who use the shelter are Indigenous. It was a transitional shelter, for those who are trying to get back on their feet, those who have been homeless for a while and want to get a job but still need support. The ownership of this shelter changed from the Salvation Army to the Canadian government. The Salvation Army has shelters all over Canada and because they’re run by a religious group, they have

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very strict routines and guidelines—for example, they don’t let in people who are drunk or high. Then the government took over the shelter and took away all the restrictions. It went from having a capacity of around 60 people in the shelter to having 100 to 200 people showing up to the shelter every day, needing accommodation and food. It became an issue for both the homeless population and the surrounding area. Our firm was asked to come in and try to find a better organization for the shelter. One focus was the landscaping around the shelter—in Whitehorse, there is no public realm in the streets. Most streets don’t even have sidewalks and there’s just dirt between the road and the buildings for street parking. In front of the shelter, people were either going inside or idling outside. They had nowhere to sit, so they ended up going to the cafe down the street or sitting on benches. We wanted to improve the outdoor space so that people would feel comfortable spending time at the shelter. That was a really eye-opening project, and it’s what got me interested in working with Indigenous communities and the homeless population. We met first with the surrounding businesses that were affected by homeless people in the area. Then we met with the people in the shelter to hear their side of the story. They felt like they were forgotten and shoved off to the side. They were given a shelter to use, but it was not a nice place to stay. It was designed as a transitional shelter, but they opened it up as an emergency shelter as well. That meant

SARAH MASON

that the people trying to get back on their feet were constantly seeing those in different situations shooting it up in the bathroom or drinking outside—all these negative influences around them that they were trying escape. We went through the process of trying to change the design to make them two separate entities—an emergency shelter and transitional shelter. We reconfigured hallways, added doors, and changed the layout of the rooms. We proposed adding a seating area outside and discreet fencing

“During my time at the office, I worked on a food station, a community centre, a cultural centre, a small apartment building, and military accommodations for the army based there.” along the street so that the people in the shelter didn’t feel like they were being watched by people driving or walking by. Did these experiences change the way that you think about homelessness? In Galt, it’s very prevalent, and yet at the School we usually seem to ignore it. Those last two co-ops had a really positive impact on me in terms of how I want to design, and who I want to design for. It developed my values on what it means to build something for a community while

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“The pandemic has been a wakeup call, because we can’t keep designing homeless shelters the way we used to.”

This photo is of me walking along a beach in Alaska after finishing a bike relay with my co-workers from Haines Junction, Yukon to Haines, Alaska. I had been to this same beach a few weeks before. That time, it was a gorgeous sunny day and you could see the mountains across the lake. Not this day—the rain left us with a thick layer of fog blocking the view.

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keeping in mind that not everyone can afford everything. I really enjoyed my work, and I’ve learned so much about what does and doesn’t work in shelter design. I learned how to work closely with the shelter, the city of Whitehorse, and the Yukon government. It felt like everybody was represented, and we had meetings separately with different parties so that we could see different sides of the story. That’s what I want to do with my education. I was lucky that the firm that I worked for this past co-op also did a lot of work designing shelters in Toronto. When the coronavirus pandemic happened, trauma centres and shelters filed a class action lawsuit against the City of Toronto for not equipping them with the proper tools that they needed to combat COVID-19. A lot of the staff left because they didn’t feel like they were safe— they weren’t given the proper protective equipment or the proper training to help people to social distance. So it was a disaster, to be perfectly honest. How did your office cope with that? Was it possible to make any immediate changes to shelters to make them safer? Our firm, along with four or five others, were each given 20 or 30 shelters to look at in Toronto. We had to completely reconfigure the layout of the rooms. The biggest issue was distancing properly, since a room that normally has six people in three bunk beds now can only fit two or three people. On average, the capacity of shelters

SARAH MASON

was reduced to less than 50% of normal capacity. On top of that, there’s an increased amount of homelessness because of people losing their jobs. Other firms were looking at public buildings that could be repurposed to house people, like arenas, gyms, and community centres. But everything has a domino effect, because when you open more shelters, you need more staff and people who are trained to work with the homeless. The next steps are working with the city and shelters in Toronto to rewrite a set of guidelines for shelter design. The pandemic has been a wake-up call, because we can’t keep designing homeless shelters the way we used to—fitting as many people in a space as possible. You’re very conscious of how the projects you work on actually function in real life, whether it’s with the climate or with the local communities. That’s something I think we often forget as architecture students. I think a big fault with many architects is that we don’t often go to the buildings we design. We just sign off on the drawings, go on some site visits, but we don’t go back five years later to see if it is actually working. We may even be making the same mistakes on other buildings. As professionals, I think we should do a better job to follow up on projects and not assume that everything we build works for people.

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After working on shelters in two very distinct locations, do you think that your experience in the Yukon translates easily into a bigger city, or are the two totally different? In Toronto, there are so many shelters We’ve got shelters for kids, elders, pregnant mothers, older women, for people who have certain types of addictions. Whereas in the Yukon, they don’t have the infrastructure or the resources to do that, nor does it make sense for such a small population to have different shelters. Up north, all these issues need to be dealt with under the same roof, while in a larger city, you can offer more types of infrastructure, people, and resources. As I mentioned, most people using the shelter in Whitehorse were Indigenous, which is really heartbreaking because it all comes back to colonialism and setting up a city on their land. Did you feel that there was a general awareness about the effects of colonialism in Whitehorse? Were people open to talk about it?

Ontario—it wasn’t until the early 1900s that people started living there full time and setting up buildings on their land. There are elders who still remember how it was before white men came to their land. I talked to some elders who live in remote communities away from Whitehorse, where it’s still predominantly Indigenous people living there, and they witnessed the direct effects of colonialism in their own lifetimes. Can you tell us more about the history of Whitehorse? In the late 1800s during the Klondike gold rush, thousands of people came from Southern Canada and the United States to the North thinking they were going to come back with bags of gold. In the end, not a lot of people were able to find gold, and eventually left. By that time, Whitehorse had already been established as a small town. It was then used as a military base for the US Army in WWII, because the US needed an easy access route to build the Alaskan highway. This was a self defense strategy after the Japanese invasion of the Aleutian Islands and the bombing of Pearl Harbour.

In Whitehorse, Indigenous culture is everywhere. There were events for drumming and dancing almost every weekend. I found that they were very willing to share their culture. That being said, talking to the elders, the fact that colonialism is having an effect on the community is very present. In the Yukon, it’s a lot more recent than in places like southern

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Afterwards, it started to be settled by people coming from other Canadian cities. There’s also a new Filipino population and a German population. It has become this mix of like-minded people from different cultures who want to live a remote natural lifestyle, including a lot of people who want to live completely off the grid. It’s such a different culture and way of living than we’re used to in southern Ontario. It’s the most stunning place I’ve ever visited—mountains, beaches, lakes . . . It’s beautiful to see Indigenous cultures all around you. I know I’m going to go back. Maybe next time, I’ll brave the winter.

This photo was taken when I was driving along the Klondike Highway to Skagway, Alaska. This drive had some of the most spectacular views I have ever seen.

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follow @justkidstm and designwithcolour.org

design with colour

a conversation with niara van gaalen

Tell us about your website, Design with Colour. NIARA VAN GAALEN: Design with Colour is a website with resources, support, and inspiration for Black architecture and design students. Started in August 2019, the website is now 1 year old already! In February 2020, we received a grant from TakingITGlobal to commission our cover art and purchase a subscription to web hosting services, which has allowed us to expand our article selection, and in the near future we hope to increase our mentorship capacities. How did you find resources and mentorship with your project? Amal Dirie, who graduated last year, was a real mentor to me. She told me about

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some of the firms she worked at in Africa, and I was inspired by her thesis—especially her graphics and the way she looked at non-Western architecture. She studied nomadic architecture by women in Somalia and how that integrated with their lifestyle, which I found to be really interesting and user-driven. There are also groups like the Black Architects and Interior Designers Association (BAIDA) in Toronto, which has a Facebook group. I’ve built up a network of friends on social media all over the world. If you’re part of a diaspora, people will connect with you culturally and want to help and support you. I’m interested in Afrofuturism, for example, as an expression of Black identity, so I researched that specifically to see who has been doing work in that vein.

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Graphic by @showknight_ for designwithcolour.org

Some cities have more of a draw for Black architects. Detroit, for example, has the Detroit Mercy School of Architecture. There are a lot of opportunities for people to buy land in the city or experiment with graffiti, sculpture, and architecture. There is a Black community still living in the inner city, but now mostly in poverty, when it used to be a really vibrant and wealthy community. What’s happening there is super interesting. I’ve been trying to find centres of Black innovation, where there is architecture and design that might have been overlooked.

NIARA VAN GAALEN

I’m also following Nia Centre for the Arts, which is in Toronto. They do really cool incubator projects for young Black artists, and provide fellowships for local Black youth between the ages of 18-24. When I was working last winter in Calgary, I did a lot of reading and talked with my colleagues, but it’s hard because many workplaces are very white, so even if people are interested they only know so much. It’s hard to start a dialogue with people who have a very limited understanding.

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Is your current project more focused on Canadian students?

Things are changing now, as the Black Lives Matter movement is experiencing what you might call a second wave. In June I did a post The scholarship collection I’ve done is for about mental health, and I’d like to put more Canadian and American students. I was focus on that moving forward. A big part surprised to discover how few scholarships of architecture school is knowing what you there are for Black architecture students. want to do with your own education, and There are some in Nova Scotia because of the histories of Africville and runaway slaves, identifying what is important to you. Maybe and a long-standing Black community who it’s not important to my professors that I’m interested in Afrofuturism or using different are not Carribean or African immigrants art forms as precedents instead of looking at from the 1900s. But in Ontario, there really Le Corbusier’s work for the hundredth time, aren’t many scholarships. but it’s important to me. In Spring 2020, I Another issue is that many Black told my professors that I didn’t want to look entrepreneurs or foundations want to support students in either STEM or the arts, at certain Western precedents because I felt like it wasn’t supporting my project. I kept but architecture is at the intersection of those, making it difficult to apply to specific pushing, and eventually they did give me scholarships. I’ve spoken with Treaty Lands, precedents that I felt were more relevant and respectful of the land. Global Stories and we are looking at how The aesthetic vision is something to support BIPOC students, provide better I’m still struggling with. I’d like to interview bursaries, and improve the scholarship program. In Canada, you can’t get accepted Demar Matthews, who did his thesis on with a full-ride academic scholarship like you creating a “Black aesthetic,” which I think is can in the States. You have to keep applying a little problematic because Black people come from many different cultures and for these piecemeal scholarships of 2000 or 3000 dollars, and you probably won’t be parts of the world—you can’t identify one aesthetic for such a big group of people— able to get them because there’s so much but I’d like to hear his thoughts. I’d love competition. I don’t know if there’s a simple to create a graphic style that reflects the fix—I hope that the racial equity committee will start addressing these issues and finding non-Western innovation I’ve been exploring. With grant from TakingITGlobal, I was also more holistic ways of support. able to commission a Black illustrator who How has your vision for the goes to Sheridan College, Rebecca Duresse. project changed, now that I’d love to produce T-shirts or products that you’ve been working on it for a people could buy to support the website, year or so? because this was a one-time grant and I’d like to make the project financially viable.

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It seems like you took a lot of initiative to push professors for non-Western precedents. Do you see other people taking this same kind of initiative?

NIARA VAN GAALEN

I think once they start revamping the curriculum with non-Western precedents, that will really help. We need to reevaluate our core values. For example, I did a studio in 2A where they really liked concrete. I like concrete too—Tadao Ando does beautiful work—but it’s not a sustainable material and it’s not relevant to every project. They also didn’t like projects with ornamentation and patterns, like the kinds of things you might see in a mosque or a hammam. I hope that through this weird summer we’ve had, where people are talking more about racial equity and celebrating more cultures, people will feel comfortable saying, “I don’t want to build in concrete and I have the skills to design something that is more meaningful and true to my vision.”

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â&#x20AC;&#x153;You could teach modernism by taking jazz records from Oscar Peterson or Miles Davis and looking at how the structure of the music integrates with the architecture. It bothers me that almost none of our professors know about oral history and music, while so many of the students are really into music and play instruments.â&#x20AC;?

In architecture school we often talk about being in a postmodern or contemporary era, but modernism still has a huge influence on our curriculum. And modernism is problematic in many ways. It bothers me how pervasive it is. Modernism isn’t just buildings by Le Corbusier and other architects you typically think of. There were huge impacts on people in the Global South, and people living in the monolithic apartment buildings that went up during that period. There’s a professor at the University of Detroit Mercy who did his thesis on Le Corbusier and the birth of hip hop. I think it’s cool that he could make connections between the music that originated in these modernist buildings and the damage that modernism has done to certain communities. There was also a suggestion from the Harvard GSD saying that you could teach modernism by taking jazz records from Oscar Peterson or Miles Davis and looking at how the structure of the music integrates with the architecture. It bothers me that almost none of our professors know about oral history and music, while so many of the students are really into music and play instruments. It’s important to so many cultures, yet we just push it aside because our professors don’t know anything about it. I didn’t realize how deeply embedded racist ideologies are in Le Corbusier’s work until

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my exchange term at TU Delft, where we had some readings that were eye-opening. It’s not just that his schemes were dehumanizing, which is a more common critique, but you can see them through the lens of racial patriarchy. I couldn’t believe we hadn’t talked about it at Waterloo, even though we’re given his work as precedents from first year. We were talking about Le Corbusier in Brazil last term, and apparently he went to Rio de Janeiro for one day and proposed that they build a highway right through the middle of the city. He had the audacity to go somewhere he didn’t know and push his ideas onto a place that was working fine without him. I think Rio was much better off without his vision! To a lesser extent, I feel that still happens a lot—in this age of globalization, architects often work on projects in countries where they’re not based from, and claim to have solutions for places they’ve never lived in. That bothers me so much, and it plays into white saviorism. There’s a professor named Germane Barnes who teaches in Miami, and his first project was working on a neighbourhood in poverty in Miami. It used to be flourishing and it had this wild 1920s fluorescent architecture. His job was to revitalize the neighbourhood, and he

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decided to move there so he could talk to the people who lived there, go to the grocery store, drive around the streets, and use the community centre. I really respect that he lived there and didn’t just have a community consultation. I think it would be best if every architect was either local, or had to move to their project’s location. That would solve a lot of problems with the saviorism complex. How do you think architects can be activists? I often feel like many architects just do what they’re told. I’m questioning that too. A lot of American civil rights leaders in the 60s didn’t like architects. They saw them as sheep working for a wealthy and racist clientele. One of the first African American licensed architects, Paul R. Williams, did a lot of housing for wealthy white movie stars in Hollywood. He would draft in front of them when they came to the client meetings, but he learned to draft upside down because they didn’t want to be on the same side of the desk as him. It’s impressive and sad at the same time. Architects can be more vocal when they choose to be, but it’s always that issue with the client guiding the decisions. Some 214

people have suggested giving more work to the government to organize big projects, but I think that can be problematic. I don’t know if we can return to a more communitybased approach, where everyone invests in a building co-operative. Maybe you could have architects who work start to finish within the community. Maybe we could have a model where the building is more integrated into the community and architects work with other kinds of makers, artisans, and artists. Another issue is that a lot of female architecture students aren’t comfortable with manufacturing and building construction—especially at the beginning of our education, they may not feel comfortable in the workshop handling tools and machines. That leads to women being less involved with the design process because construction remains a sexist space.

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Have you ever done more participatory architecture through your work experience?

Bringing it back to your project, how do you see yourself moving forward with Design with Colour?

NIARA VAN GAALEN

The firm I worked at did community consultation services. Instead of asking the community to tell them everything they wanted, they offered chips with options for things the project could have. For example, the community centre could have a pool, a community kitchen, offices, or a small library. Each thing had a price tag attached, and the building had a limited amount of tokens for what it could include.

In addition to mental health resources, I want to do a few more interviews and look more at intersections with other social justice and environmental movements. I havenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t really talked much about climate change and how it intersects with racial justice. Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s so pressing and I feel like time keeps flying by and nothing is changing, so itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s something I want to explore.

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follow @ozmiumbarium + @thechutneymag

making chutney a conversation with osman bari Tell us about the publication you made for your E co-op. OSMAN BARI: It’s called Chutney, and it’s a publication that provides a platform for marginalized and misrepresented voices. My intention was to curate a selection of personal stories from diverse voices in the hopes of enriching understanding, and breaking down the monolithic attitudes toward other communities and individuals that are prevalent in the media. The way people of colour are represented in the media is usually through the lens of pity or terror, and it comes with a lot of negative connotations. I wanted to shift the attention away from that and talk about everyday experiences while delving into identity and culture in particular.

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It seems like your publication took on a broad scope of topics and perspectives, which is ambitious. How did you define your focus for the first issue? To be fair, it’s not like I had a plethora of submissions to begin with, so narrowing them down wasn’t a big challenge for the first issue. There are nine stories in the publication and I did three of them myself. But I understand that it’s not easy to be vulnerable and share your experiences. I wanted to keep the topics quite broad—it’s specific in the sense that it’s for marginalized voices. For the second issue, I will probably specify that it’s for people of colour, Black and Indigenous voices, and queer voices. But I didn’t want to be prescriptive about

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OSMAN BARI

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what people could submit. I did structure the publication through three sections, called “Chop,” “Mix,” and “Preserve.” Those are essentially the steps to make chutney. “Chop” was for stories that broke with convention and defied stereotypes, “Mix” was about different cultures and identities blending and mixing with each other, and “Preserve” was about how traditions are evolving today. Did you learn anything from the project that you could apply to school projects? I think the conversation we’re currently having about inclusivity and accessibility in the school definitely relates to my experience working on Chutney. We’re becoming more aware of all the different people we’re designing for, and how our curriculum doesn’t always acknowledge that. We’re usually designing for a set group of people with certain abilities that are considered the norm. Just being more aware and sensitive to others when designing is something I’ve tried to incorporate into my work. But until there’s a shift in our overall attitude, there’s only so much you can do. With the 4B studio, for example, accessibility was part of the brief, but it was contradictory because the whole site in itself wasn’t accessible. I feel like these issues are often just tacked on to projects, instead of being integral to them. The professors can’t expect students to know how to design inclusively when we 218

don’t have any seminars or lectures on how to do that. It’s easy to just slap it on the brief and say it’s a requirement, then disregard it for the rest of the project. In school we often design for visual purposes, while in the workplace we have to more deeply consider the people actually using the space. Did any of your co-ops inspire what you did with Chutney, such as designing for inclusivity? I think it was the lack of inclusivity and diversity that pushed me toward exploring those topics further in the publication. I worked in Europe for a number of terms, and inclusivity and accessibility weren’t really acknowledged. On top of that, being a person of colour in Europe, you become attuned to the ways people interpret you and others who look like you. So more than the actual work, I learned from the experience of being in a place where you stood out. It heightened my awareness of the surroundings and made me more attuned to people who weren’t comfortable in these spaces. I know a lot of other students in the program feel the same way, and have had similar experiences. You created Chutney as an architecture E co-op, so did you relate it back to architecture, or were you trying to break away from that? I actually found myself shifting away from architecture. I was more interested PERIPATETIC MAGAZINE

A set of risograph stickers of nostalgic Pakistani snacks

Do you have any ideas for increasing awareness about inclusivity within the architecture community?

OSMAN BARI

I think the faculty and the curriculum have to bear a lot of the responsibility. It’s a disservice that when you’re in the School you’re not being taught from the perspective of marginalized communities. Our curriculum is largely Eurocentric, and it was only this term that more people started to talk about the lack of Black and Indigenous voices with the School. A shift in the curriculum and more awareness on the part of faculty will go a long way. Our student body is already so involved—we have Treaty Lands, Global Stories and Galt that are dealing with these issues. There are so many resources out there for people to educate themselves, and it’s a continuous process of learning and re-learning. 219

A risograph print of the Urdu phrase that inspired Chutney’s title (translated to: Don’t Make Chutney With My Brain) 220

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in graphic design, visual communication, and storytelling, so I didn’t approach it with architecture in mind. I know Galt, for example, is a publication that deals with similar topics through the lens of architecture. Did you do everything by yourself, or did you have any collaborators? This really wouldn’t exist without any of the contributors, and the success of the publication depended on the stories people shared. I was responsible for contacting people, editing, and designing the final product. You mentioned that you are pursuing graphic design for grad school. Was your interest in graphics a motivation for creating a publication? You can have a publication that’s more simple and less graphics-based, but because of my interests, I wanted Chutney to stand out as a visual piece and not just be a book of written text. Did you get any feedback after you released the publication? I followed up with the collaborators, but unfortunately I haven’t had a lot of feedback from readers. I’ve had a few emails from people saying that certain stories resonated with them, but I’ve also had feedback on the other end of the spectrum saying that it’s inaccessible and the stories are boring. Generally, I could do with more feedback

OSMAN BARI

and that’s something I’ll be considering in the future. Since it was an E co-op and essentially a business, how did you go about marketing it and spreading the word? I made a website (chutneymag.com), and that was the main way to buy the publication and learn about it. I also started an Instagram account. But mostly it was through personal outreach—I tried to reach out to various clubs on the main UW campus and organizations I was interested in working with. Otherwise, it was just through word of mouth through the contributors and friends. It’s pretty difficult to get stuff out there if you don’t have a large following audience. Can you tell us about the printing process—did you get any grants to help with that, or did you print based on interest? I was lucky enough to get a grant from Waterloo. As part of the E co-op program, you have a number of opportunities to pitch your project or business and get money for it. I got enough to cover the printing cost and distribution. I worked with a risograph print shop in Toronto that did a number of basic tests that I checked beforehand, and I ended up printing 75 copies for the first edition. Risograph is a printing process that involves overlaying different ink layers, rather than printing them all at once.

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Have you done any other graphic design projects? One project I’m currently working on is for someone I met during my last co-op who’s running a kind of relationship therapy course. I’ve been doing the branding and art direction for that. I’ll also be making a few more prints for Chutney to sell on the website. How did you go about teaching yourself graphic design? I looked at a lot of Pinterest boards, and worked on improving my Adobe skills. It feels weird to say I taught myself graphic design, because it’s such a broad field. I guess it’s about finding graphic styles that interest you and learning from them. In my last co-op at a graphic design firm, they were surprised I could use Rhino—I had no idea Rhino would be useful outside of architecture, but they asked me to model all kinds of things. Have you developed your own unique style, or at least is there a style you’re drawn to? I definitely have a preference toward colour and a more playful style. I draw inspiration from South Asian culture and design, graphics that are very rich and saturated. What’s your process when you’re working on a graphic design project? I guess I have a vague image in my head of what I want to do, then I further cement that by looking up references. It sounds basic, but you’ve got to make a mood board! One

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of the things I learned during my last co-op is doing design sprints, where you allot an hour to put whatever you can on a page without any parameters, just to see where your intuition takes you. After that, you take stock and see what you like and what could potentially work. You can then refine those ideas and pick a direction. I find it’s important to define a tone—with Chutney, I wanted it to be relaxed and approachable. Can you tell us more about your co-op at the graphic design office? How was it different from an architecture firm? It was essentially a digital branding office. They came up with the branding for different clients, designing across scales, whether it was a website, an app, or business cards. It was about finding a visual identity for different clients or projects. I was interested in how the office operated—it had a network of freelancers, so whenever they needed a certain task completed, they brought in someone who was more experienced in that area. There was a lot of cross-collaboration between people with different strengths. That was something I hadn’t seen in an architectural office, where there’s usually more of a strict hierarchy. The capacity to design together with many people was also evident through the program we used, which was called Figma— it was a cross between Google Docs and Illustrator. Everyone was designing in the same virtual space at the same time, which was a new way to work for me.

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OSMAN BARI

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Top: Teotihuacan, Mexico Bottom: San Cristobal de las Casas, Mexico

Mexico City, Mexico 224

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follow @ihumenyuk

iryna’s lonely planet a conversation with iryna humenyuk Can you tell us where you’ve done your co-ops? IRYNA HUMENYUK: My first one was at an architecture firm in Toronto. The second one was at a design office in Singapore, but I worked as part of their editorial team. The office releases a yearly publication, and that year’s theme was co-housing, so they hired me because of my background in architecture. After that, I did an E coop that focused on gearing my portfolio toward another editorial job. For my fourth co-op, I had a position in Mexico City, but left after working there for a few weeks—it didn’t work out. I travelled a bit and ended up getting an architecture job in New York. Because I was interested in developing my communication skills, my supervisor had me work on a travel-blog type website IRYNA HUMENYUK

for a property she had recently inherited in Jamaica. I essentially acted as a travel guide to Jamaica for two months, and full disclosure, I’ve never been to Jamaica, so it was maybe not the most appropriate job for me! For my last co-op, I was able to find another editorial job in Amsterdam at an interior design publication called FRAME. It was a really supportive work environment and they took time to train me and catch me up to speed. You’ve been all over the place! How did you become interested in publishing? In high school, I was interested in both design and communications. Now that I’ve been through architecture school, I’d like to continue more in the communications

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direction. The industry seems to be shifting towards a freelance model, which we don’t often talk about in school. It’s been more difficult finding role models and best standards for building a sustainable lifestyle off this model. I’m still figuring out which path to take.

the beginning, there were more edits and it took me much longer to write one piece, but by the end of the five months I was more efficient.

Can you tell us about your tasks in the publishing jobs?

Yes, there was quite a wide range. My boss, who started publishing 20-something years ago, went to school for chemical engineering. He was hired by a chemical company to write technical texts, then found out the company was producing an interior finish that he suspected was ethically dubious. That was when he first considered leaving. At the same time, he

In Singapore I had two projects—I wrote a paper on co-housing, then I was coached through writing a piece for their publication. At FRAME, I had two tasks: uploading archive pieces on their web platform and writing short articles concerning new project openings in Europe and Asia. In

Did your co-workers at FRAME come from a wide range of academic backgrounds?

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Hanoi, Vietnam

started developing an interest in architecture and design, and decided to start a design publication with a friend. That publication, though now defunct, eventually paved the path to launch FRAME. In terms of the editorial team, one of them came from a trend forecasting background and another did knitted textile installation work in university. I worked closely with a co-worker who studied journalism in San Francisco, then did a second degree in fashion journalism before going into interior design reporting. So there was a fair amount of diversity on the team, and each person could bring something different to the table. Have you been able to apply your interests in communication during school terms? Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ve always admired architectural projects with a more fictitious or fantastical bent.

IRYNA HUMENYUK

In 3B, I took the music and architecture option studio, and I tried to bend it to my own interests. I became interested in Danteâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Inferno and decided to design a set for the story rather than the atypical music venue that seemed to be expected in that studio. I also think it would be fun to have an option studio based on Calvinoâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Invisible Cities. Do you do more personal writing in addition to your professional work? A lot of my writing portfolio is pretty personal because I started out writing for myself. Having done co-ops abroad, I felt a need to record things, if only for personal memory. I think keeping a journal is a useful tool in post-processing. Living abroad, I felt like I was hitting a lot of new milestones, and writing them out was an important cognitive exercise.

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â&#x20AC;&#x153;Having done co-ops abroad, I felt a need to record things, if only for personal memory. I think keeping a journal is a useful tool in post-processing.â&#x20AC;?

Ha Giang, Vietnam 228

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I agree, when you have this density of experiences, like with the co-op program, it often feels like there isn’t even time to process what’s happening to you. So it’s valuable to write about it. Sometimes you’re so busy that you don’t have time to write it out! In Singapore, I barely kept a record of what I was doing, which I regretted afterwards. I ended up reading through old Instagram messages and texts to friends and in that way created an account of my travel experiences. It’s a very modern interpretation of a journal—I’m such a long text writer! I’ve heard that living abroad increases your self awareness, for example in terms of cultural norms that you may not have questioned back at home. Did you find that to be the case in your experience? I think so. I’m a huge fan of backpacking, specifically as a way of iterating through different types of spaces and life situations very quickly. Since I’m moving through these changing casts of characters every few days, it feels that I’m experiencing a microcosm of what it’s like to live a life in the greater world—but condensed in the span of a few days or weeks. IRYNA HUMENYUK

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Can you share any stories from your backpacking trips? A story I like to tell is from when I was in Vietnam—and I wouldn’t necessarily condone doing this—for my first solo backpacking experience. I was in Hanoi, and at my hostel there were a bunch of motorcyclists who told me to do the Ha Giang loop, which in Westerner-backpacker talk is this pre-established route that takes a few days to visit by motorbike. It goes north

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of Hanoi through the mountain ranges and has amazing geological features. On my way to the first leg of the loop, I met a Austrian law student who was also heading there and we decided to do it together. We rented some scooters and started off, but it was December and was so cold and windy. I didn’t realize that climbing up the hills would be so foggy and the roads would be so wet. At a certain point, I was biking in front of him and we skidded to a stop. Then he crashed into me and I fell off the scooter! I PERIPATETIC MAGAZINE

Left: Ha Giang, Vietnam Centre and right: Sapa, Vietnam

wasn’t hurt, but it freaked me out and I got, perhaps unfairly, angry with him. I decided to cut the trip short and go back. Not more than 10 minutes later I stopped to take a photo and this couple on a motorcycle stopped next to me to ask if I was okay. They volunteered to drive me back to the bus stop. What I didn’t know was that these people had met on an online dating site and this was their first date. The woman offered to drive my bike to the bus stop, and I went with the guy on a shortcut that he knew, IRYNA HUMENYUK

essentially hijacking their romantic trip! He told me all about how he ran a cafe in Hanoi, which I ended up visiting later on. That’s quite an adventure—I’m glad it turned out well in the end! Have you met a lot of people through your travels? By the time I went to Amsterdam I had developed a kind of ethos where I wanted my travels to prioritize meeting people as opposed to only seeing sights on my own or

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“I had developed a kind of ethos where I wanted my travels to prioritize meeting people as opposed to only seeing sights on my own.”

San Miguel de Allende, Mexico City 232

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Mexico City

with people I already know. To meet locals who are willing to show you around and talk about their life is such a pleasure. Can you talk more about your time travelling in Mexico? Mexico has obviously got the narco reputation and there is a petty crime culture in certain areas. Call it luck, but my experience was that if you use your common sense and stick to touristic places, it’s not a problem. It’s an amazing place to backpack through, and I found the people really hospitable. There’s so much ecological diversity between the deserts and rainforests, mountains, and beaches. It’s a country with such a rich cultural history. The founding story describes how the Aztec people saw an eagle landing on a

IRYNA HUMENYUK

cactus with a snake in its beak, which they interpreted as a symbol to start a city in that spot. At the time, it was an island in the middle of Lake Texcoco, a basin between mountains. In pre-colonial times, one of the first iterations of the city supposedly functioned somewhat like Venice, with canals and water systems. There’s one part of the city in the far south where you can still experience a version of that early city called Xochimilco—you can tour the canals on tourist boats. Starting this massive metropole on a lakebed would come to be a problem, though, because now the city sinks a few inches per year, in large part due to the unsustainable depletion of its underground aquifers. If you go to the Centro Histórico, you can see how the buildings are tilting. Because the soil used 233

Casa Barragan, Mexico City

A house in Mexico City

Mexico City streetscape 234

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to be at the bottom of a lake—and due to the fact that Mexico City is in a high-seismic zone— it’s been both technologically difficult and very costly to build very tall. Most of the city is low to mid-rise, but the population of Greater Mexico City is over 20 million people. There are so many people, but it feels like it could be a small town that just continues on and on for hours. At one end of

How did you learn about the city’s cultural history when you were there?

IRYNA HUMENYUK

the city is Santa Fe, which is considered one of Mexico City’s most modern and affluent neighbourhoods. This is one area where they have managed to build highrises that look right out of Manhattan—all glass and steel with manicured gardens—which is the opposite of what most people think of when they imagine Mexico City.

Another student from our school was already in Mexico at the time, and she introduced me to the people she knew. Again, I was lucky to meet people who wanted to guide me around. Otherwise, I enjoy consuming the films and books of the place I’m going to. Mexico has a rich cinematic history. There’s so much to take in post-fact as well that adds to your memory and understanding of the place. There is a saying about how we travel to build empathy so that we learn to care about the people and the places we go to, and that’s certainly been true for me.

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Furniture pieces by Celine, photos by Hannah 236

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follow @hannah_connolly + @jieyuwaang

temporal theatrics

a conversation with hannah connolly + jieyu wang Tell us about your co-op experiences so far. HANNAH CONNOLLY: I did my first one in Paris, at Atelier Tsuyoshi Tane Architects (ATTA) where I was making models for an exhibition. The second one was at Alison Brooks Architects in London, working on competitions. The next two, including the 8-month co-op, were in Paris at Celine working in furniture and installation design. JIEYU WANG: My first co-op was at Johnson Chou in Toronto, my second was also working at ATTA, and my third was in New York at Bureau Betak, a set design company. My latest co-op was in store planning at Louis Vuitton in Paris.

HANNAH CONNOLLY + JIE YU WANG

“It’s about the theatrics and creating a world that doesn’t actually exist: making an idea feel like it’s real.” 237

Which co-op did you enjoy the most? HC: I got so many different things out of each experience—I loved all of them for different reasons. But I think my job right now has been a highlight, because it’s where I’ve had the most responsibilities. Why did you decide to work in fashion and smaller scale installations, rather than a more conventional architecture firm? HC: I got a bit tired of the scale of building projects and the steps involved in that. I really wanted to do something at a smaller scale so that I could see finished products within the time of an internship. JW: It’s a different timescale to complete something in fashion or installation design compared to architecture, where you design something and it goes through multiple other people and there’s a long process before the final project comes out. Most pop-ups and fashion show set designs get done from start to finish within the span of one month, or three months at most. And have you seen things get realized that you helped design? HC: Yes, quite a few. I do a lot of installations, so they have been built, as well as lots of furniture pieces that have been introduced to stores now. Do you think you consider details and atmosphere much more after working at these smaller scales?

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HC: For sure, because we have to plan every single component to be the way we want it. We spend so much time with suppliers looking at materials, finishes, and details. Everything has to be perfect, from the tiniest part to the biggest. So it involves a lot of research and material exploration. I’m wondering about the work culture in fashion—do you find that it’s quite a different working environment? HC: The hours are way more civilized. They never make you work overtime. These are big companies, so they really have to take care of their employees because they are under so much scrutiny. And there are sometimes feelings of secrecy between departments—we don’t really know the full picture and what direction the company is going in until it happens because you are always just focused on your part. JW: My office building closed at 8 or 8:30 pm—the security guard came and kicked everyone out so you couldn’t work past closing time. In terms of work culture, there were a lot of interns and I got to meet people from other departments. We also got CC’d on a lot of emails, so it was nice to see what other people were doing. Outside of the office, once I went to a factory outside of Paris to see how the trunks, bays, and lights were made. And they brought us on tours, which was fun!

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Installation by Celine, photo by Hannah

“Everything has to be perfect, from the tiniest part to the biggest. So it involves a lot of research and material exploration.“ HANNAH CONNOLLY + JIE YU WANG

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Louis Vuitton internal used furniture sale showcasing items currently in storage, photo by JieYu

Did you get to go to design week or see fashion shows in Paris? HC: We did some lighting tests for shows. But mostly I’ve been doing installations, like temporary installations for the main flagship stores. We went out for a lot of events during fashion week, which was really fun. We got to see a different world of people and a different kind of network than architecture. People were wearing the strangest things and there were cool musicians. It felt a bit fake, but it was really entertaining. JW: I went to visit stores, but for planning, not for events. For my job, usually the intern gets to go on one trip to visit a store. My turn was when quarantine happened, so I didn’t get to go. The previous intern before me visited stores all around France and the other intern who started a month before me went to Germany.

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Do you feel like the way that you worked in the fashion industry translated into your work as a student in school projects? HC: It definitely affected my research process, because all of our work was so heavily research-based. The way you look at things is so different: looking at paintings or sculptures or photography and seeing the way light hits things. It’s a different type of spatiality that gave me a new perspective, and it changed the way I think about materials and light. JW: In the fashion industry, you spend a lot of time looking at things that aren’t necessarily architectural, but more temporal or temporary—furniture or objects or ideas. Actually, a lot of the people we were working with were architects, which helped us understand their perspective since we came from a similar background. PERIPATETIC MAGAZINE

HC: Right now I’m working on some furniture pieces and it’s funny because normally when I’m designing furniture from an architect’s perspective, it’s about how to fill a room. The way my boss (a fashion designer) approached it was different— he looked at it as an object that ties into the atmosphere of a space. It’s been interesting to look at designing objects from the perspective of someone who is not an architect. Do you see yourself working in this area after you graduate? HC: For me, the reason I really love fashion is because it’s about the theatrics and creating a world that doesn’t actually exist: making an idea feel like it’s real. Everything you design, if you work in the industry, is telling an idea, and a story. There’s also a larger budget to do really cool things. A lot of people have really good references or teach art history. Being in Paris, there are so many good opportunities to get inspiration. Where do you tend to find inspiration? HC: Lots of museums, and Jie Yu and I visited a lot of stores as well. There’s a lot of inspiration in just taking in the culture and the lifestyle. It’s more relaxed and people really value enjoying themselves. An empty street in Paris during lockdown, photo by Hannah HANNAH CONNOLLY + JIE YU WANG

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Which areas in Paris did you spend time in? JW: We explored a lot of the area around where we lived. HC: Yes, the Marais. We spent all of our time there. JW: We went to the area around Bon Marche [the department store] a lot, too. HC: We did a lot of shopping there, around Saint-Germain. Also up by the canal in the 10th and the 11th arrondissements. There are really good restaurants and it’s less touristy, more calm. But during this latest co-op, there haven’t been tourists at all and it feels different. Was it weird seeing it totally empty during the lockdown? HC: It was freaky, but it’s also been cool to see it like this because it’s never happened before. How would you compare your experiences in New York and Paris? Were there any similarities, or were they totally different? JW: The jobs were very different in New York and Paris. In Paris, I was working more on the project management side of things. I was writing emails every single day, conveying the design between the engineer, the local architect, and the supplier. I was also only working on stores. My job in New

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Site visit to the Louis Vuitton Asnieres House, photo by JieYu

York was the complete opposite: I was working purely on the design of fashion shows and events. I got to go to every event and every fashion show that I worked on or that the office was working on. I worked with around 15 people in the New York office, whereas in Paris my department had around 30 people and the office had 200 or 300 people. How was your lifestyle different in the two cities? JW: I walked a lot more in Paris. New York was also very walkable, but when I was there it was too hot to walk. I rode the ferry a lot, which I really enjoyed. I lived right next to the waterfront so I took the ferry from Brooklyn to downtown Manhattan.

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What is your experience and impression of Paris after visiting the city so many times? Has it changed over the years?

HC: feel that it changes because of who you’re surrounded by. But in the end it’s always Paris, and it’s always promising in a lot of ways. JW: I think it changes a lot based on where you live and where you go to work. HC: Yes, like the streets where you walk, how long it takes for you to get home every day, and how late you work or stay out at night—all of those things make a big difference.

HANNAH CONNOLLY + JIE YU WANG

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A far away place beyond the river, Iceland 244

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follow @patrickjstephen

gesture and light a conversation with patrick stephen Tell us about your photography and starting your own business. PATRICK STEPHEN: Back in high school, there was a local program that provided assistance to youth who wanted to start a business, so that’s where I started doing my own freelance work. Ironically, I don’t think I got any work that summer—it was only until after that I started to get a few clients. After high school, I did a lot of video work for local businesses as well as in Toronto. That led into the E co-op program, because previously it had been a struggle to be a full-time student or intern as well as a freelance photographer. Before, it was very much more of a hobby on the side. Do you still see your work as more of a hobby, or has it become more business-driven?

PATRICK STEPHEN

It’s definitely a hobby. I think for the first while I wanted the business just to fuel the hobby, because unfortunately photography depends on having a lot of equipment, which costs money. The first camera I bought was maybe a year before starting the business, and I used that for six years, trying to get the most out of it. Before I even considered photography, I always wanted to do video work, making short films and things like that. But because I lived in a small town there was no-one to go make films with, so I’d just take pictures instead, and that’s how I got into photography. Even now, there’s an idea in the video world that you do a certain job just to pay the bills, then eventually you get that one dream job to make the video that you want to do. I think I’ve had maybe one or two of those opportunities, where you have free reign to do whatever you want.

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Is your work mostly commission based? How much time do you spend outdoors versus indoors? It’s like 99% inside and 1% going outside and doing what I actually want to do. It’s similar to architecture, where design is just one part and you spend most of the time on construction documents. A lot of time is spent reaching out to people and finding ways to get business. There are some weeks where I might be out the whole week, then other times where I’m inside and doing either the pre-work, where I’m trying to generate business, or the post-work of editing and having meetings with clients. How do you find clients and promote yourself as a business?

A window on my walk in NYC

I’m still figuring that out. It’s changing constantly, and being a student, I haven’t been able to give it my full attention. But starting out that first summer, I had a goal of connecting with five people a day through Facebook, Instagram, email or calling people. I haven’t been able to do a lot of that recently, but because I built a lot of relationships early on, it’s translated into actual work. There’s a person in town I met when I first started out and we’re still doing projects together. Although I haven’t done too much with social media, I’ve found that people go to who they know and like. Can you speak about being an architecture student as well as a photographer—do you find that it’s a symbiotic relationship? I’ve given some thought to this, and I don’t think I have a full understanding of it. But there’s a critical observation that’s necessary for

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The LETT Courtyard Home, Peterborough, ON

both. Especially in undergrad at Waterloo, there’s a lot of attention given to creative work and the critical thinking process. It’s about figuring out what’s the essence of an idea, and how to communicate that idea. Drawing isn’t that far off from photography in that it’s a visual medium—drawing is maybe more technical and a photograph is perhaps more literal, but at the same time its message can be just as abstract as a drawing. So there’s a similar process in how to communicate ideas. In the last few years, critical thinking has definitely improved the photographs I take, as well as learning from other people. You mentioned you’re from a small town—does where you are influence the kind of work

PATRICK STEPHEN

you do? What’s your process for finding a place to shoot? I live in a small town about an hour and a half north of Toronto. That’s definitely influenced the photos I take, because the only thing to photograph is the landscape, and very specifically either a forest or a field. I think I got pretty good at those two subjects. At that point, it was an easy transition to architecture, because it’s all very still. From a business standpoint, you need more people to get business, and being in a small town doesn’t offer that. I do a lot of my work in Peterborough, but even that is quite small. Could you talk about a specific project you’ve done? The first summer when I was starting 247

A bus station with someone on an escalator, Vancouver, BC

my business, I emailed one of the architects in the area, and I don’t think they even bothered replying at that time. But by the end of first year, I sent them another email because they had just renovated their office, and I was interested in learning more about their practice and also seeing if I could photograph their new space—there’s not a lot of new stuff in Peterborough! That actually led to them hiring me for the summer as an intern, and since then I’ve worked with them the two following co-op terms. Last summer when I was doing the E co-op I was hired by them as a freelancer to photograph their projects. I’m actually on a photoshoot for one of their buildings right now. It’s been a long journey building this relationship. Speaking of journeys, how has your process and approach to photography changed since you started out?

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I think in high school I tried to make every photograph a beautiful thing. If you’re looking at photography through that perspective, just trying to make something look good or different than it is, you can miss telling an actual story. In the past few years, I’ve been more observant about what it is I’m photographing and its unique characteristics. Right now I’m photographing a small pavilion which isn’t so special in itself, but there are stories attached to it of people using it, sitting or having a meal, that I think I would have missed earlier on. I see what you mean—I can see a correlation between sketching and photographing in that if you start with preconceptions you kind of miss what’s actually there. When you approach the site, you don’t really know what it is you’re trying to capture until you explore and test things out. PERIPATETIC MAGAZINE

Top: End of the train, because I missed the front of the train, Cambridge, ON Bottom: A little place that no-one notices, Peterborough, ON Left: Places Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ve found after a night in studio , Cambridge, ON

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The elusive mountains, Iceland 250

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Exploring is definitely a big part of it: approaching the site without thinking “I want to take this kind of photo.” And that’s definitely a certain type of photography, which I view as part of my style, if I have one. When you’re in an empty studio and it’s just a place to create, even then there’s an observation and re-evaluation of what you’ve got and where you’re going with it. How much of that awareness comes from when you’re taking photos on site versus editing them back in your studio? It’s all part of the process; editing is just a continuation of it. There’s certainly an aspect of being intuitive, but when you’re asked to photograph a specific subject, and you’re not just out exploring and seeing what you can find, it can be difficult. That’s where you get stuck creatively, so relying on a technical observation can be useful. Very rarely will I take a photo and not continue to make adjustments afterward. I’m still learning composition and things like that. I also enjoy taking a film camera out. With digital, there’s a reliance on the editing process, where I’ll take photos and think, “I’ll just crop that later.” Whereas with film, there’s an immediate end to the creative process once you hit the shutter. There’s always manipulation of film, but to a certain extent you can’t do as much as you can with digital. So film is a good learning tool—it really makes me think differently about and be conscious of the photograph I’m taking.

How else do you go about learning about photography? When I was starting out, I didn’t know anyone in this field, and I think that made it more difficult. I didn’t have anyone who could answer my questions. Eventually I got to know a few people in Peterborough and Toronto who actually do this full time, and learning from those people has been the most educational. Even just hanging around them listening to them talk about their experiences, you pick up little things. Some practical advice, but also just a perspective on how to see things or approach a job. Are there any photographers you’ve been especially influenced by? They’re always changing. I’m terrible with names—I have a visual memory. There’s a French photographer I learned about in high school, Henri Cartier-Bresson, who influenced me a lot, even now. Another photographer I’ve been thinking about is Jay Maisel. I remember reading a description of his photography which was something similar to “a communication of gesture and light.” I like the idea of using gesture to communicate movement of some form, and light, which is the medium of photography. That’s interesting, because architecture does the same thing in a way. You briefly touched on this previously, but how would you describe your own style? I don’t know how to pinpoint exactly what it is. I only know how to describe it technically,

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like using contrast and a hard directional light. It’s hard to see the work you make as a whole, because you’re too intimately familiar with every detail of it to get a full picture. An outside perspective will always give you a better idea of what you’ve actually made. Are you ever influenced by other forms of art, like visual art or music? Music, for sure. I usually listen to music when I’m out photographing. Especially when I’m working on a video project, I find that I need to listen to a certain kind of music that

emulates the feeling I’m trying to create. I usually listen to movie soundtracks, because they have a lot of narrative and variance. Recently I’ve been listening to the Tron Legacy soundtrack—it’s very electronic and intense. When I listen to that I can visualize a certain style of motion or imagery that I want to create. In second year, I listened to the soundtrack for Dunkirk, composed by Hans Zimmer. He’s a very epic composer, with a huge orchestra and percussion. That’s what I listened to for the entire final project, and I think the intensity came out in my design.

Me carrying a very heavy backpack up a mountain for no reason, Jasper, AB 254

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“I find that I need to listen to a certain kind of music that emulates the feeling I’m trying to create.”

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The perfect place for someone to stand , St Martins, NB

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Your photography seems like a very individual and exploratory venture, but I’m wondering how does your approach change when you have time constraints, such as when photographing people?

That makes me think of the site as something that is studied in both architectural and cinematographic projects. Do you ever find that you approach a site in an architecture project in a similar way?

I don’t often photograph people, but I can speak about time constraints in terms of video work. In the commercial world, everything is pre-planned and set up, so there’s usually not a lot of room for exploring while you’re on the job. That sense of exploring comes beforehand, where there’s a lot of preparation and thought that goes into the shot before you even arrive to take it.

There is this endless feedback loop, where you come with an idea, you test the idea, re-evaluate, and repeat. You do that before you arrive, while you’re there, and you keep doing it afterwards. I’ve heard criticism about architectural photography in that architects design just for the photos, and those photos

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are usually taken without people and before the building has even been inhabited. What do you think about these critiques? I can’t say I’ve been able to escape that criticism, because it’s ultimately what people are looking for, and that kind of dictates what I end up making. Actually, the architect I’m working for currently has switched the way they want to present their buildings: they’ve specifically asked me to include more people in the photographs, which I think is a good move. Ultimately

that’s what I want more of, because having people in a photo creates a much more compelling story. How is the building actually used, how does it live? But it’s a valid criticism, and you can go a step further to ask how do we represent buildings as they’re actually built—I photographed a building a while ago where I had to do so much Photoshop work to make it as pristine as the client wanted, which wasn’t how it looked in reality.

Parking space 5, Iceland PATRICK STEPHEN

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That makes me think about the ethics of photography. Do you think photographers should have free reign to Photoshop as much as they want?

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Photography has always been an interpretation, and manipulation has been a part of the process since the very beginning. Early photographs would be coloured by hand, which is a kind of interpretation. The other aspect of it is about perception: when you’re perceiving something, you leave out a lot of information, so that’s a kind of editing in itself. If you aren’t perceiving something in real life, is it unethical to edit it out of a photograph? That being said, we’ve now come to trust photos more because they seem to represent reality more than older photographs did.

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A self portrait that made me late for work, Millbrook, ON PATRICK STEPHEN

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follow @its_tibboh + tibboh.com

composing, constructing a conversation with nick lupescu What have you done for your co-ops? NICK LUPESCU: I’m currently doing an E co-op teaching music—piano, guitar, and music production. It’s mainly through Zoom but I also do some in-person lessons. Last summer, I was making soundtracks for Stephen Digital and other creators, and before that I worked in Toronto. My first co-op was in Brazil where I was working at Atelier Marko Brajovic. I did 3D modeling for a circular co-living building, and the other half was doing soundtracks for their pavilions and for promotional videos. That was really neat. I wanted to ask you more about your co-op in Brazil. Was the office already interested in

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music, or were the soundtracks you did something unusual for them? They loved music. They had an office speaker and would allow the interns to pick the music during the work day. As far as my experience, I don’t know if they did much with music production prior to my working with them, but they were really interested in the idea of combining music with architecture, like how music could influence the perception of a space. They liked to add music to their pavilions. Since you’ve been composing music across three co-ops in different places, do you think the city influences your music?

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“A lot of the energy of that soundtrack came from the feeling of being in Sao Paulo.“

Absolutely. I think the place definitely influences my music. This includes the sounds surrounding the space you’re occupying, as well as just the general vibe of a place. I’m starting to realize that the general vibe consists of little nuances and even the body language of people around you. When I was working in Toronto at Gensler for my fourth co-op, I would take the TTC in the morning. On the GO train to downtown, I would notice the sounds of people’s bodies around me. I did a soundtrack featuring art by James Gilleard that can be found on my Instagram page, @its_tibboh. With that soundtrack, I started writing it during my first work term, but once I was back in Canada, I continued writing it in the middle of the study term during final reviews. A lot of the energy of that soundtrack came from the feeling of being in Sao Paulo. The drumming style in that song is very characteristic of Brazilian Bossa Nova music. The music that

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I listened to at the office and the feelings that I got while walking through the streets every day went into the energy of that song. That’s really cool, and since you wrote a lot of it afterward, it’s like your memories of the place went into the music. That’s true, although I think sometimes you can create things without meaning and inspiration—you just do it for its own sake because you like the sound—and afterwards you can go back and you find meaning in it. After you write a song, you draw connections to something in your subconscious that was influenced by it. That’s one thing that I’m learning a lot lately, that so many things can’t be put into words. So many things have subconscious influences. Even a city’s appearance might affect the conversations you have three years from now, or it might affect how you listen to music.

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“You grow up thinking of music as note after note after note, but you could just as easily look at music as interval after interval. When I play (plays four keys) I think of that as four notes, but I can also think of it as three spaces.”

How do you see the progression of your music over time? Has your music changed since high school? My music used to be much more active. In high school, I would make something like this (takes out keyboard and plays some notes). There’s not a lot of breathing room. Whereas now I make music that is more varied, like this (plays on the keyboard). Now the music that I listen to and the music that I’m making has more breathing room. Does that appreciation of “breathing room” in your music reflect a shift in your values, or maybe how you’ve grown as a person? In high school, people used to say “awkward silence” whenever there was a moment of silence at a gathering or a party. Now that I think about it, it’s so bizarre that we’re trained to fill up the silence when we have a conversation. When there’s nothing happening in a conversation, we have the urge to speak and fill the air instead of something like just making eye contact. So in your music, you’re paying attention to the spaces between the notes rather than just the notes themselves. The tempo of a song is similar to that of a conversation. That’s been on my mind lately. You grow up thinking of music as note after note after

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note, but you could just as easily look at music as interval after interval. When I play (plays four keys) I think of that as four notes, but I can also think of it as three spaces. This space has a texture and a colour— you can call it a major third—but I call it a green. That’s really interesting. Do you also associate certain spaces with colours or sounds? Yes! For example, I see a suburban kitchen as associated with yellow. Imagine a triangle with an equal sign between each point. The top point is the colour yellow, the other point is a suburban kitchen and the other point is (plays a chord). Do you ever think about the idea of the space or the interval between sounds when you’re designing something? Yes, that principle is so important, not just in music but in architecture too. I recently listened to a recording of the Tao Te Ching, a Daoist text. As far as I understand, it’s in the same school of thought as Buddhism. I think the Tao Te Ching is one of the foundational texts of Daoism, which talks about the value of emptiness. For instance, the usefulness of a clay pot actually lies in the emptiness contained within it. That reminds me of a story I heard about how there wasn’t a symbol for zero in the number system. Other numbers were established, but the value or even the concept of “nothing”

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wasn’t very clear. Now, obviously, it’s a circle. But the concept of “not existing” is challenging. Space is basically emptiness, but it’s hard to define, since the medium is space. When you think of space, most of the time you think of walls framing the space instead of the actual void. I wonder if you could draw something without thinking about lines, but instead just drawing the “nothing” that is between the lines. It would be really interesting to start drawing, and designing, a space by seeing the negative first. That reminds me of the sculpture North, East, South, West by Michael Heizer in the Dia: Beacon. It was these massive holes carved into the floor. They were the negatives of volumes, like the empty space of a cylinder. That made a big impression on me. Going back to your music, how has it influenced the way you think about architecture? As architects, we’re making drawings similar to musical scores and notations. Do you think the way you make architectural drawings relates to the way you score music?

how to read sheet music. A good chunk of my piano lessons were learning by imitation, listening then playing back. That’s a good way of learning because you can think critically about what you’re doing. How could that way of learning translate into architecture studio projects, for example? I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately, because the way that we do a studio project relies so much on representation rather than working with a medium that can properly represent a project. I wonder if there are other ways. For example, if you’re designing a sauna, instead of drawing the sauna and then building it from the drawing, could you build the sauna by grabbing pieces of wood and working with the actual scales and number? When you scale up a drawing, it loses its value. I’d rather skip the scaling up process by working with full scale dimensions. What do you think about model making, then? Does that give you more insight into building or designing?

Model making is closer to what I’m talking about, but when you work with scale models, you still have the dilemma of something getting lost in translation when you bring it up from 1:20 to 1:1. The model isn’t accurate. Whereas when you’re working I think the way that I draw things in at full scale, the thing you’re building is right architecture involves working more threein front of you and you can see accurate dimensionally. I’m actually only now learning shadows as well.

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Minecraft creation made in high school

There are offices who work at a 1:1 scale to test out ideas, but your idea is to reverse the process—start with the 1:1 model and then work your way back to the drawings? You can still bring drawing back throughout the process. I think that the reason I’m passionate about this idea is because I feel there’s a lack of it right now in our curriculum. The way you approach the act of designing sounds like a very tactile thing, rather than something flat on paper or a screen. This reminds me of something I used to do a lot before architecture school: Minecraft. In Minecraft, I always worked with properly

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dimensioned materials. I would make a plan with blocks—without even knowing it was called a plan—then build upward. I was working with the dimensions and materials that represented the building. So when I got to architecture school, there was a bit of a switch in the workflow since we were working two dimensionally and at a smaller scale. That was tough for me to get used to. When you’re composing music, do you still have that mindset of playing around and figuring things out? Yeah, for sure. I think most of my music has been like that, where it’s trial and error and very little is actually written down. To remember what I did, I would scribble a yellow patch then a blue patch to represent certain notes or chords.

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Top to bottom: “wet,” “underock,” “the 5th,” “ping pong,” “palette,” “longer”

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Now that you’re teaching music, are you using your colour method? Or is it something only you can understand?

I’m using this as a teaching tool. For example, I showed a student this paper with patches of colour to represent the music. I don’t know if the student has synesthesia, but if we can teach sheet music to people, then I think we can just as easily help them understand that this group of fingers plays this (plays a chord), let’s call it blue, then this group of fingers plays this (plays another chord), let’s call it yellow. If you’re geared towards learning through colours, it can help distinguish sheet music. When I see black notes that are very closely put together, as in common music notation, my brain sometimes blurs them together. And it’s a bit harder to sense the emotion of the piece.

So in a way, this is your own method of scoring or writing music. You’re teaching students music, but is there anything you learned from your students?

My students showed me that you can understand something without it being put into words. Sometimes I’m explaining something and they will go ahead and finish what I was explaining on the piano. It’s body knowledge.

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follow @simhdel

a sinking city, trekking active volcanoes, and gotong royong a conversation with simone delaney What made you interested in working in Indonesia? SIMONE DELANEY: Indonesia always interested me! Geographically, it’s affected a lot by climate disasters and I have a lot of environmental interests. I went there to work for a research-based non-profit which studied flood and disaster management. You previously mentioned that going to Indonesia was difficult to arrange. What was the story behind that? It’s expensive and difficult to do a co-op in Asia. Paying interns a living wage isn’t so much a part of the culture there, and I was working for a non-profit. I had to plan the co-op eight months in advance and get funding from outside the school. I was still

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on a co-op in Victoria when I applied to the Cansbridge Fellowship, which is mostly funded by the Asia Pacific Foundation. As a person who had never been to Indonesia, it was really generous for the organization I worked for to provide me with that opportunity. I definitely didn’t feel like the most qualified person to work on disaster management and its societal impacts, because I come from the other side of the world. What kind of work did you do? Everyone in my office was extremely welcoming. The office is called Yayasan Peta Bencana and their platform is PetaBencana.id. The idea is to democratize information for disaster management, and everything is crowdsourced from the

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Padar Island, Komodo national park (01)

community. The organization takes data from Twitter (among other social media) and whenever someone uses a keyword like ‘flood,’ a bot responds to the Tweet and gives instructions to report the flood. This creates a mapping visualization on the website, which spatializes the data. It started with flooding, which is super relevant in Jakarta, since it is the fastest sinking city in the world. Some parts of North Jakarta are sinking up to 25 cm per year. Typically, it’s informal settlements in the lowest lying land that are most affected. In those places, they’re also less likely to have access to government data. I helped expand the platform to five additional types of disasters, such as earthquakes, volcanos, and high winds. We were also expanding the platform to a national level and also

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setting up a similar platform in Manila. Since it was research-based, I didn’t have to meet the same types of quotas as in an architectural firm. Some days they would say, “You haven’t considered this, so would you like to read for the day and learn how this theory relates to our practice?” I found that super helpful, because I didn’t really get the opportunity at school to learn about non-westernized forms of urbanization. It was eye-opening to be in Jakarta, since it’s different from how any Western city is organized. They have a completely different set of issues because the effects of climate change are way more exacerbated in the Global South.

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our office since they worked out of a house, and they let me stay there for free. The other person who lived there was the housekeeper, which I found strange because I’m not used to that type of power imbalance. At the same time, though, I had to be respectful because it was a cultural norm. But it wasn’t always weird—I would play soccer with him or we would try to speak to each other even though my Indonesian was bad. He played the guitar every night and it was nice to have someone else in the house. It didn’t always have to be such a power imbalance even if that was expected. Jakarta before iftar

How did you find the work and living culture there? I feel that in North America we have an intense work culture (at least in the design industry), but in Indonesia, I found the work culture much more relaxed. Lunch would be provided everyday, so we would all eat a home cooked meal together. But I had to adapt a lot to things we don’t think about here—like, tap water is not safe to drink and you can’t brush your teeth with it. Mosquitoes can also give you diseases that I never had to think about in Canada. On a more social level, I had to pick up some Indonesian, which is actually very intuitive to learn. I learned basic pleasantries and how to be polite when addressing people. One thing I found different was that a lot of people have housekeepers. I lived at

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Michelle and I were in the Netherlands last Fall, and since the Dutch colonized Indonesia, you see a lot of Indonesian cuisine. But people there often seemed oblivious to the fact that the Netherlands was a colonizing power. What traces did you see of that period? I realized that people don’t see the Netherlands as a colonizing power to the same extent as other European countries like England and France. But having spent some time in Indonesia, you can definitely see remnants from the Dutch colonial past, and the colonization is still ongoing. For example, in Jakarta, there’s a historic neighbourhood called Kota Tua where you can see Dutch colonial political buildings that have been made into museums. There’s another neighbourhood called Menteng where most of the foreigners lived, so once

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“It was eye-opening to be in Jakarta [...] The effects of climate change are way more exacerbated in the Global South.”

Courtyard in Jakarta SIMONE DELANEY

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Padar Island, Komodo national park (02)

you cross the river you can see a huge distinction in the architecture and canal systems that were developed during the Dutch colonial era. The World Bank provides incentives and invites outsiders (usually from the Netherlands) for proposals to address flooding in the north of Jakarta, where the sea wall is deteriorating and the sinking is happening the most quickly. But the proposals are usually not culturally sensitive, and they promote real estate development on new land masses that will displace all of the informal settlements on the water’s edge. It feels neo-colonial. There is a huge culture of gotong royong in Indonesia, which is a phrase that refers to community solidarity in the face of disaster. When you

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ask an outsider to intervene, especially with these issues of flooding, they don’t understand how people already organize and adapt at the community level. I don’t think the Dutch solutions are very adaptive— they are more hard infrastructure solutions. But the physical infrastructure wasn’t something we worked on at my organization. It was all digital infrastructure, and a lot of it was done through community engagement. I wasn’t really a part of outreach sessions, since I was an outsider and didn’t speak Indonesian. But it was great to learn from my co-workers who did lead those, and were democratizing the process of dealing with disasters. It was very bottom-up.

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It sounds like this experience was really different from a typical architecture co-op. Do you feel that it changed the way you see your role as an architecture student, or shaped what you want to do in the future? Yes, I think so. I struggled a lot in my earlier co-ops because I’m interested in larger scale issues that can’t always be addressed at the scale of architecture. There’s only so much you can do related to sustainability or more equitable social spaces when you’re working at the scale of a building. I did study landscape architecture theory and I worked at firms that did urban planning, but I hadn’t been exposed to a lot of theory SIMONE DELANEY

before. I don’t know exactly what I want to do for grad school, but it’s probably not architecture—it’ll be either urban policy or design, or landscape architecture, or urban geography. So I think it definitely changed how I’d like to continue my education and eventually my career. What was it like working at a research-based office? I feel like architectural offices often claim to do research, but it’s usually quite superficial. Did you learn any research strategies you could apply elsewhere? At a research-based practice, you need to think in very complex ways before you make any intervention. That’s missing in the

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design industry, where practice is always prioritized and there isn’t a strong basis of theory. There aren’t a lot of firms that would prioritize theory. Off the top of my head, I would say SCAPE and Forensic Architecture are really good at that, but that kind of office is rare. After working more in research, does that affect your current school projects? I took the amphibious architecture elective with Elizabeth English, which is really open so you can do pretty much whatever you like. For that term project, my partner and I did a project based in Jakarta. When I was actually there, I didn’t get to think about flooding issues at an architectural scale, so this was my chance to do that. Then in Lola’s studio, we were working in Kuujjuaq, Quebec, an Inuit community, and were talking about decolonizing education. I was able to see how larger geopolitical issues affect design, even at the smallest scale. And I had a deeper, invested interest in understanding the geo-political issues that exist in Quebec and that are affecting other Indigenous communities. Can you talk more about your life in Indonesia? Were you able to go hiking or exploring? There was a long holiday period when I was there—I arrived during Ramadan. We had a few weeks when the office closed and everyone went home to see their family for Eid al-Fitr. I didn’t know anyone else in Indonesia, so I went backpacking and was

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able to visit areas in Central and East Java, which made me feel very privileged because I was funded by an external organization. I became interested in hiking, especially volcanoes. What I love about volcanoes in Indonesia is that volcanic landscapes are so intertwined with cultural and religious practices. Mount Bromo is used for Hindu ceremonies. In Bali, Mount Batur has caves that are temples within the volcano and is surrounded by Hindu communities. There’s a Hindu goddess, Dewi Danu, who is attributed to a lake at the foot of the volcano, and who is only worshipped in Bali in this branch of Hinduism linked to the water. Then in the Komodo islands, I went to a lot of the natural parts that were more remote. It’s a little overrun with tourists now, but the landscapes are so beautiful. There are pink sand beaches, where the red coral has been ground up and mixed with the sand. And there are giant bats at sundown that fly over you when you go to one of the nearest islands. So having that opportunity was really amazing. How did you learn about the cultures and the landscapes? In Bromo, I didn’t have a guide—it was a pretty easy hike, but when I got to the top there were temples and offerings that people put into the volcano. One of the people I was traveling with, who was from Goa, told me stories about Mount Bromo, Hinduism, and what he’d been learning about in the central part of Java.

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â&#x20AC;&#x153;In Indonesia, volcanic landscapes are so intertwined with cultural and religious practices. Mount Bromo is used for Hindu ceremonies.â&#x20AC;?

Top: Borobudur temple at sunrise Bottom: Sunrise at Mount Bromo SIMONE DELANEY

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So I learned from the people who I was travelling with or who were staying at the same homestay. In Bali, I ended up having a guide to go up the volcano because the government regulates it. I was lucky— normally they charge Westerners a lot to be in a group of 12 people, but I was able to negotiate a fair price that was less than half of what people regularly paid. It turned out that I got to hike with just the guide. He practiced Shiva-Buddhism at a local temple and was from the surrounding community, and we had a really candid discussion. Were these active volcanoes? Yes. There’s also one in East Java called Mount Ijen. That was eye-opening, because it was a sulfur mine and locals were climbing

with no protective equipment in the toxic fumes. These people were collecting the sulfur in a vapour form that liquifies when they collect it. When they come down it eventually solidifies and is used by cosmetic companies. But it’s not very often in North America that you see and hear that side of the supply chain, the exploitative side that happens in the Global South. All of the tourists who were hiking there had gas masks and equipment because the fumes were so carcinogenic. If you’re a tourist, you hike into the crater to see blue fire for thrills, but there are a lot of people who have to navigate this landscape just to extract the sulfur for mass production of cosmetics. So seeing that made me more aware of the power imbalances and the capitalist system we are all entrenched in. That does sound eye-opening. Do you have any plans to go back to Indonesia? I would love to go back and visit, but I don’t think I would work in that type of discipline in Indonesia full-time because I am a foreigner and I was there to learn, not impose. But I made a lot of close friends and great connections. There’s so much of Indonesia that I haven’t explored yet! Outsiders often see Indonesia as having one cultural identity, but it’s an archipelago of over 17 thousand islands and every island, every city, has a distinct culture of its own. There’s a wide array of ethnic and cultural and religious diversity. I would love to go to Sumatra or Sulawesi or other areas like Kalimantan, the Indonesia part of Borneo.

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Komodo dragon at Rinca Island

Do you have any advice or tips for someone wanting to visit Indonesia for the first time? You do have to be careful if you’re travelling alone, partly just because of the nature of being an outsider, but also because you probably don’t know the customs. It could be intimidating, but I found everyone was super welcoming and supportive. When I was in Bandung, the capital of West Java, the people I was travelling with invited me to a local wedding. I think people should go

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with less fear and trepidation because even if you’re alone, people are going to help you and be interested in why you’re there. I first met people through my office, but then during the period when I was travelling I met so many more people. So even if you start out alone, you’ll end up building lasting friendships.

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