project development

The project developed first in section. Though I began by drawing the traditional catholic church plan, I only used it as reference for the eventual explorations to be made in section. I first aimed to soften the orthogonal sharpness of the section, both by perforation and added curvilinearity. I also wanted to challenge the predominant source of light, which traditionally filters in horizontally through stained glass, by creating multiple angled skylights to let light filter in from above. Playing further with the sectional traditions of the church, the geometry of the dome was carried down into a stage pit, which runs below a nontraditional descending nave. Spatial hierarchies are queered alongside potentially queered use case scenarios for a traditionally fixed and stable typology.

Before diving into the programming, I think it’s necessary to bring to light a quote by queer historian George Chauncey that I found especially powerful in terms of this project’s stance:

“There is no queer space; there are only spaces used by queers or put to queer use.”

In harmony with Chauncey’s definition, I would argue that the most impactful form of subversion is not in the design of space itself, but the occupation of it, and all its layered meanings. The phases are indebted to many interdependent actors and are only successful when a series architectural norms liberate themselves from imposed or inherited positions.

Programmatic Synthesis

The programming of each typology is more fluid than fixed, with abstract definitions relating to larger experiences. They are pointedly divided into three: RECLAIM, RESTORE, and REFORM.

In the development of the site plan, which took many iterations and continues even today in exploration, I kept exploring the notion of shimmer. From the inverted shadows and surface reflections to the relational glow between building and landscape, the notions of color, hue, statics and slippage point towards desire and possibility without much fixity.

For the plan cuts, a similar mechanism of protection is at play. They are not meant to be traditionally normative in clarity or convention, but rather act as evocative images only meant for those who have seen its interiors. There are various sets of plans.

A question that I kept coming back to was frustratingly simple: who enters, and how?

Above is a gradient diagram of two different passerby and their relation to the building’s only main entry. In dotted blue is the everyman, maybe on their daily walk, who happens to pass by the site. Seeing a church elevation, bell tower, and likely open doors, they come in, see the altar, and leave, having satisfied their curiosity. In pink, however, is the intended audience of the proposal: those that do not fit under the heteronormative umbrella. This is their space in a world not designed for them.

In order to control this point of entry with nuance, the plan opts for a “faux altar,” in which only those “in the know” are able to pass through, drawing on decades of queer coding. If you know you know.

existing flat waterways (-) sensual mounds (+) filter trees plantings

The “queering” is carried out onto the landscape and used as a filtering mechanism. Waterways flow from a coded entry past the exedra, receding under the monastery & reemerging to snake through a protected landscape before resting directly under the baths. Gentle mounds offer visible and occupiable protection depending on their adjacencies. Trees are the primary source of visual covertness, planted strategically to limit eyesight views and/ or signal coded entries, like the one directly under the faux altar from the left street into the exedra gardens. Plantings, such as flower beds and trimmed hedges, offer flexible, ecologically architectural spaces for informal intimacy and formal enjoyment.