words of the aspiring architect
sahibajot
No need to reinvent the wheel, they say, Handing me texts on my very first day. What worked then will surely work today. You will learn their tricks and apply them in new ways. Understand, examine, reproduce and learn, Before you jump to take your turn. The stakes you built have already been burnt; Don’t waste your effort – to the books you must return. People grow and times change, But the principles at heart remain the same. Learn now, how to play the game. We do not design – we simply reframe. Now, don’t get confused – It is the thinking that is reused – Not the object in which it is infused. Plagiarism is strictly refused. Also do not fall prey to anachronism – The most common of which, is metachronism. Chronological error leads to displacement and descent. But hopefully, that’s what learning from history actually prevents.
She sits. She thinks. She sips. A sharp whistle pierces the air – and her train of thought. Her chai bounces in the glass as the train jerks forward. Goodbye to another town. She can’t help but glance out the window; take one last look at the crowded platform – the crowd she has grown to love. She wants to take in the air – the smoky, musky, air – the signature of this place she has started to consider home. She catches herself in the process. The scene outside slowly slides away – the coolies taking time out on the side of the steps, the mother tightly clutching her child’s hands as she stands beside the bench, the backpackers rendezvousing under the archways, the family of five bundled up against the side of the ticket counter… This place is their home. The train is in full motion. “Hello.” She turns to see the beaming face of the man seated beside her. “Myself Rajvir.” “Oh, hi. I’m Linda.” “Where you from, Miss Linda?” “Well,” she pauses. She looks out upon the boundless plains rushing past. “I’ve lived in the terrace houses of Paris, under the imperial roofs of Beijing, in the apartments of New York, amongst the palaces of Mexico City, alongside the theatres of Venice, in the cottages of Bern, the bungalows of Chandigarh… But I don’t think I’ve ever been to where I’m from.”
Architecture is a means for so much more than shelter. Architecture speaks in a way that words can’t. It tells a story of its conception and fabrication – a story of time, place and people - the builders, their families, the common civilian – or in its early days, the all-in-one architect, who could use both, pen and chisel: arkhitektōn. Architecture can be read like a book that is forever open to all who catch even a glimpse of it – but the most significant part of its story lies in the mind of the reader. Architecture is a vehicle for commenting on society – its author being the architect, and the reader determining its meaning. Architecture is a palimpsest of a thousand gestures.
Studio is always a challenging subject. How do you tell the difference between a concept worth pursuing, and a concept with no potential? Well, usually, every concept has some potential - something with can be explored and pushed something out of which, a real programme can be derived. The trick is, I’ve found, to choose just one concept - one that speaks to you - and run with it. There is not time to indulge in lengthy research or experimentation in order to pick a concept to focus on - well, not in this subject, anyway. Secondly: does a concept always have to arise from the physical context - site - of the to-be building? I wish I had known earlier, that the answer to this is ‘no’. A concept can come from anywhere - a theory of philosophy associated with the function of the to-be building, perhaps. It just has to speak to the brief in one way or another. So, once you have your concept, just stop there. Best to not forget about your team members. So, what if they wish to explore a concept totally different to yours? What if both concepts have equally good potential? Compromise. But how do you compromise? Do you find a happy medium between the two concepts? Is that even possible with diluting the essence of each? Do you just choose one? Which one? There’s always the ‘what if ’ factor; what if the other one is better? What if this one doesn’t yield as good a solution as that one? The questions are endless. And such is the process of design. Design thrives on confusion because confusion encourages deeper exploration and harder thinking. Some more questions: how do you find a balance between conceptual thinking and pragmatic thinking? Perhaps pragmatism only comes after the solid development of a concept. This semester, I feel that my partner and I fell into the trap of thinking too pragmatically before deciding on a concept and actually working it. Just when I thought I had understood the expectations and ‘tricks of the trade’ of this subject (at the end of last semester), expectations increased, briefs became more complex, and a totally new curve ball was thrown: team work. Team work - especially in something as subjective as Studio - is a whole new skill on its own. Personally, I find it a very tough skill to master. And as with anything, it has its fair share of pros and cons. The most difficult thing, I find, is to be able to truly share a single vision/concept with your team - a vision that you are all passion about, and driven towards. But ultimately, we must remember that every design ‘solution’ is, in fact, unresolved in many ways. Perhaps the process is what’s more important. I don’t think it’s worth getting caught up on arriving at a stunning solution, to the point where you stop enjoying the process, and working with other people - it’s about developing your ability to work through the design. For, in the end, a design is never ‘complete’ - it is simply ‘abandoned’.
sahibajot kaur
Bachelor of Design in Architecture III The University of Sydney tumblr: sahibajot.tumblr.com insta: @theaspiringarchitect issuu: /sahibajotkaur