Fig. 1. Layers of an old door. Charleston
“A place belongs forever to whoever claims it hardest, remembers it most obsessively, wrenches it from itself, shapes it, renders it, loves it so radically that he remakes it in his own image.�
Joan Didion
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Fig. 2. Savannah’s Factor’s walk
Fig. 3. Street encounters. Savannah
MATERIAL MEMORIES: Sensory experience, place and memory by Leidy Tatiana LaRue
A Terminal Master’s Project School of Architecture and Community Design College of the Arts University of South Florida May, 2015 Chair: Professor Steve Cooke Committee: Professor Josue Robles Caraballo Professor Chadaphan Hanwisai Brian West 03
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Fig. 4. Final Master’s Project presentation
Dedication I would like to dedicate this Master’s Project and document to my mother and sister who have supported me in my dreams and their arduous pursuit. I have learned that success is not achieved merely by our own merit. Thank you for your encouragement.
Acknowledgments
I feel that my years through this program have changed me tremenduosly, they have transformed the way that I think and have allowed me to see the world in a new light. This Master’s research and project were largely influenced by the teachings of professor Steve Cooke. In my time at USF, I had the opportunity to have him as my design instructor as well as take some of his elective courses which taught me about the love of craft and the beauty in the world around us. Furthermore, my experiences abroad have expanded my understanding of the character of place and the richness in the variety of cultures across the world. I believe that these experiences alone allow us to grow and change our perception of humanity and our built environment. With that said, I would like to thank professor Steve Cooke for providing me with the basis for my research endeavor. I would also like to thank professor Josue Robles Caraballo for his enthusiasm and his fervor in the matters of designing for the betterment of the community. A big thank you to professor Chaddy Hanwisai for her very gentle but honest advise and her continuous encouragement through this process. Last but not least, I would like to thank my former T.A. Brian West for taking time out of his schedule to mentor me and listen to my ideas on the subject. A special thanks to professor Daniel Powers for his lessons on the realities of the profession as well as his off the cuff advise in studio. I have a huge amount of respect for these mentors who are truly invested in the education and growth of their students and colleagues. Lastly, I want to thank my friends and classmates in this program. They have been my family for four years. We have seen each other suffer and triumph and through all of it we have built friendships and relationships that will last a lifetime. To my boyfriend Jesus, thank you for your support and encouragement, you are truly special to me. 05
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Fig. 5. Organizing thoughts
Table of Contents
List of figures 09 Introduction 14 Abstract 16 Problem statement 19 Interaction. Engagement 21 Visual overload 23 Hapticity 27 Memory 31 Connectedness 35 Ritual 37 Companionship 41 Individual. House. Environment 43 Stories of place 45 Awareness. Consciousness 47 Place Markers 49 Dwelling as a receptor 53 Life of the material 57
Introduction to an escape. The project 60 Water Ferry Terminal. Site explorations 61 Beginnings. Constructs 71 Culmination of project. Walkthrough 77 The approach 81 Botanical garden 85 The promenade 93 The lantern 95 Waiting area 101 Conclusion 108 Works Cited
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List of figures
Fig. 1. Layers of an old door. Charleston Fig. 2. Savannah’s Factor’s walk Fig. 3. Street encounters. Savannah Fig. 4. Final Master’s Project presentation Fig. 5. Organizing thoughts Fig. 6. Beauty in the rawness of wood Fig. 7. Hanging notes installation: Play of light and movement Fig. 8. The fast paced world we live in; http://tomazon.deviantart.com/art/The-world-around-me-is-running-fast-331823264 Fig. 9. Insecurity; https://www.flickr.com/photos/paperpariah/2424839255/ Fig. 10. Slave to technology; http://media.silive.com/advance/photo/2014/05/-2585f20a19d41900.jpg Fig. 11. Boredom; http://www.josjansenphotography.com/index.php?/portfolio/new-lieve-vader-in-lava/ Fig. 12. Anxiety; https://escvpereality.files.wordpress.com/2014/08/img_4676-0.jpg Fig. 13. Smell; http://artcafegallery.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/Depositphotos_7420372_original.jpg Fig. 14. Hearing; http://kjhk.org/web/wp-content/uploads/2014/04/Record-player.jpg Fig. 15. Taste; http://pbs.twimg.com/media/CBKIQVQWYAAYvJp.jpg Fig. 16. Touch; http://cs419816.vk.me/v419816191/92e8/CjCLkf9XbqM.jpg Fig. 17. Sight; http://cfile5.uf.tistory.com/image/2566244C52DB14AA16EEAB Fig. 18. The craft of orange peeling: Old San Juan Fig. 19. City haze; http://lovattostudio.com/Forum/styles/Flato%20-%20Black/theme/images/bg1.jpg
http://www.allwalls.net/wallpapers/2012/09/Bokeh-City-Lights-1152x2048.jpg
Fig. 20. Vintage coffee; http://imgbuddy.com/vintage-coffee-photography.asp Fig. 21. Diagram of visual variations Fig. 22. Tunnel view of escalator in London Fig. 23. Haptic Beads construct Fig. 24. Bead variety Fig. 25. Assembly
Fig. 26. Winter in Central Park Fig. 27. Diagram of muscle memory Fig. 28. Repetition and learning; http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Muscle_memory#/media/File:Playing_the_piano.jpg Fig. 29. Worn steps; http://www.mariyarosedesigns.com/sites/default/files/well-worn-stone-stairway_thumb%5B6%5D_0.jpg Fig. 30. Weathered wall Fig. 31. One with nature; http://nonsense-society.s3.amazonaws.com/images/posts/2014/alex-greenshpun/alex-greenshpun-2.jpg Fig. 32. Chicken Point Cabin by Tom Kundig; http://www.olsonkundigarchitects.com/Projects/101/Chicken-Point-Cabin# Fig. 33. Top. Japanese tea ceremony; http://s233.photobucket.com/user/lunarh/media/teaceremony4vj1.jpg.html Fig. 34. Left. Tea ceremony components; https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/4a/f3/e9/4af3e9685aba4f5c3535f751f26f2563.jpg Fig. 35. Right. Tea ritual; https://38.media.tumblr.com/05f0850bda651721c012cb4ba1b73cae/tumblr_inline_mud263CAvx1qzgmxb.jpg Fig. 36. Scandinavian Lavvu Structure; https://dgprhltfudt76.cloudfront.net/assets/Articles/72/Images/_resampled/SetWidth1200-lavvu-9.jpg Fig. 37. A Sami (Lapp) family in Norway; http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/8/87/Saami_Family_1900.jpg Fig. 38. Interior of Lavvu; http://www2.robertharding.com/preview/RM/RH/VERTICAL/843-109.jpg Fig. 39. Diagram of daily cycle of energy transfer Fig. 40. Charleston Single house; http://41.media.tumblr.com/dfd2be4cbd250be9c868a16b1b80c6e9/tumblr_mw3ihrnnVo1qcs0udo1_1280.jpg Fig. 41. Modern suburban house; http://blog.easystand.com/2013/10/accessible-home-search/ Fig. 42. Serenity in space Fig. 43. Buddhist prayer tools; http://images.fineartamerica.com/images-medium-large/a-buddhist-lama-with-prayer-book-gordon-wiltsie.jpg Fig. 44. Window to reflection; http://cdnq.duitang.com/uploads/item/201407/16/20140716143459_fPwiw.jpeg Fig. 45. Kitchen work; http://www.silversurfers.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/04/bigstock-cooking-food-and-home-concept-82453145.jpg Fig. 46. Sense of place: Tampa Fig. 47. Bamboo construct Fig. 48. Metal construct Fig. 49. Coffee beans Fig. 50. Process of making Fig. 51. Teshima art museum interior; https://s0.smlycdn.com/data/product2/2/348ffb8752fc75c31a5d2696b8079c0fb20121bc_m.jpg Fig. 52. Teshima art museum exterior; http://www.benesse-artsite.jp/en/teshima-artmuseum/ Fig. 53. Journey of a water drop; https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/3c/51/c5/3c51c5f1e562122be6c9bb7891086bc2.jpg Fig. 54. Analysis of Savannah, Georgia (Historic District) 09
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List of figures Fig. 55. Wabi Sabi interior; https://www.pinterest.com/brinnmarbentley/wabi-sabi/ Fig. 56. Table of things; http://image.architonic.com/img_pfm2-2/207/7701/rough-table-norr11-image-2012-04-h.jpg Fig. 57. In a moment; http://www.wallpaperup.com/79011/Subway_Train_BW_Underground_Motion_Blur.html Fig. 58. Initial site selection Fig. 59. Connections graphic Fig. 60. Stockholm ferry terminal by Marge Arkitekter; http://img1.adsttc.com/media/images/53bb/b511/c07a/8005/ce00/0371/medium_jpg/
stromkajen122.jpg?1404810502
Fig. 61. Stockholm ferry terminal by Marge Arkitekter; http://img5.adsttc.com/media/images/53bb/b48d/c07a/80a3/4300/034e/large_jpg/_FOW
ELIN_113.jpg?1404810362
Fig. 62. Produce at the Saturday morning market Fig. 63. Left. Sketch of site and features Fig. 64. St. Pete photo collage Fig. 65. Quick site diagram Fig. 66. Abstract diagram of project site Fig. 67. Orientation sketch Fig. 68. Initial sketch construct Fig. 69. Evolution of construct Fig. 70. Developed sketch construct Fig. 71. Catano water ferry station in Old San Juan Fig. 72. Porous metal enclosure. Catano station Fig. 73. Sketch Fig. 74. Top. Construct. View 1 Fig. 75. Bottom left. View 2 Fig. 76. Bottom middle. View 3 Fig. 77. Bottom right. View 4 Fig. 78. Final model Fig. 79. Left. Ground floor plan
Fig. 80. Right. Top view of final model Fig. 81. Pedestrian bridge Fig. 82. Pedestrian bridge rotated Fig. 83. Tunnel sketch Fig. 84. Final construct. Pedestrian approach Fig. 85. Left. Pedestrian tunnel. Rendered view Fig. 86. Right. Overall project sketch Fig. 87. Top left. Corten steel fountain; http://www.sniperight.com/outdoor-wall-fountains/ Fig. 88. Center left. Corten steel panel wall; http://www.urbangardensweb.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/metal-art-by-inge.jpg Fig. 89. Bottom left. Early sketches of path through garden Fig. 90. Right. Final model. Garden on west side Fig. 91. Botanical garden path. Rendered view Fig. 92. Model. View from park Fig. 93. 2nd level floor plan Fig. 94. North view. Beginning of promenade through park Fig. 95. View of garden path and study rooms Fig. 96. View of promenade Fig. 97. Left. Final model Fig. 98. Right. Sketches of lantern piece Fig. 99. Left. Kengo Kuma’s Nest We Grow; https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/4c/5c/9f/4c5c9f43b996df31742aa66c15d89ac8.jpg Fig. 100. Right. View of lantern from park Fig. 101. Connection to water. South side Fig. 102. Steps at the Julliard School in NYC; http://ad009cdnb.archdaily.net/wp-content/uploads/2009/11/1257861572-dsr-julliard-09-09-6652.jpg Fig. 103. Waiting area and dock Fig. 104. Hanging notes installation Fig. 105. Bamboo ceiling installation Fig. 106. Left. Waiting area. Rendered view Fig. 107. Right. Sketch Fig. 108. Top view of final model without roof 11
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Fig. 6. Beauty in the rawness of wood
Introduction
[Borrowed from The Temple in the House]
The Japanese tea master Sen no Rikyu built a teahouse on the side of a hill overlooking the sea. Three guests were invited to the inaugural tea ceremony. Hearing about the beautiful site, they expected to find a structure that took advantage of the wonderful view. After arriving at the garden gate, they were perplexed to discover a grove of trees had been planted that obstructed the panorama. Before entering the teahouse, the guests followed the traditional custom of purifying their hands and mouths at the stone basin near the entry. Stooping to drain water with a bamboo ladle, they noticed an opening in the trees that provided a vision of the sparkling sea. In that humble position they awakened to the relationship between the cool liquid in the ladle and the ocean in the distance, between their individuality and the ocean of life. 13
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Fig. 7. Hanging notes installation: Play of light and movement
We experience architecture and our surroundings with our collective senses. We touch, we smell, we taste, we hear, we see everything around us through our experiences with spaces, places and objects. We take these interactions and we compare them with everything we have previously experienced in order to make an assessment or a judgment of them. We extract what we feel from the experience and through repeated encounters this idea that we keep with us is reinforced and stored as a memory in our heads. As architects and designers of the material world around us, we can help shape these experiences and these memories. Moreover, we have a responsibility to positively affect both the people and the environment in which we are building. Modern architecture seems to have become detached from nature and rather than facilitating connections with our surroundings, it works to isolate the inhabitant from the outside world. This International style of architecture made with “international materials� with no real connection to a place can be sited anywhere. We rely on the walls around us for protection from the outside and allow them to close us into synthetic worlds of fluorescent lights and artificially temperature-controlled rooms. It takes only to look at vernacular architecture throughout the world to realize how important and instinctual it is to build with a consciousness of the natural world and its cycles and patterns.
In our modernity we have forgotten how to build with respect to the land, with consciousness of the future, with pride in what we create knowing that it will serve a good purpose without harming the existing fabrics of people and landscape. We have become accustomed to fabricating materials, which are too durable and non-biodegradable, without thinking about their greater energy, social and monetary costs. As architects we have a responsibility for our work to respond in a way that is sensitive to the needs of the environment and the people.
Abstract
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W
Fig. 8. The fast paced world we live in
W
“All of us from time to time experience boredom, insecurity, loneliness or stress- states of mind which need something outside ourselves to provide a balance. Where our environment can offer intriguing interest and activity, timeless durability, and the sense of roots, connection with the natural world and its renewing rhythms, sociable and relaxing places, and harmony, tranquility and quiet soothing spaciousness, it can provide soul support- the first step to recovery. Where these soul needs aren’t met, there is dependence on prescribed or narcotic drugs, alcohol, television and consumerism amongst others.� Places of the Soul Fig. 12. Anxiety
Fig. 9. Insecurity
Fig. 10. Slave to technology
Fig. 11. Boredom
Fig. 13. Smell Fig. 14. Hearing Fig. 15. Taste Fig. 16. Touch
The issue at hand Despite our efforts to connect with everything around us, mostly through virtual means, we are increasingly becoming more disconnected than ever. In the name of convenience we have learned the shortcuts and efficiencies that in turn deny us the chance encounters that make life so special. We no longer need to remember as much because we have technologies that do those things for us. We desperately need the renewal of these connections; an awareness of the cyclical nature that we are a part of. We need to turn down the noise to create a relationship with place. Architecture is the link between us and our nature, between the built and the unspoiled. How this connection is handled in terms of the preservation of the existing natural and cultural contexts is vital to our physical and emotional well being.
Fig. 17. Sight
Let us then begin to understand the intricacies of connection and perception, as well as the possibility of creating a place that will stay with us in our memory.
Perception and modernity The underlying theme of this thesis is our sensory experience of space and material. Although the journey has taken me further and allowed me to bring to focus other ideas which I have previously studied as well as some new concepts, the true heart of the research and the project rely on our body’s experience of these elements and the spiritual and holistic connection that they provide our souls. More and more there is a declining identification with place in our build environment. Many of our modern buildings have become indifferent to nature and its cycles. Take for instance the typical housing blocks in Eastern Europe, their forms not adapted to their surroundings and their orientation arbitrary to their sites. Most of these have similar facades on all sides of the building, not particularly responding to the sun’s patterns or other climatic factors. Because of modern technologies for heating and cooling among others, architects are freed and allowed to think beyond the basic protection as a means of design. In turn, these same technologies that we heavily rely on have caused us great peril by denying us of the stimulus that we receive from our environment and resulting in a monotonous experience. 19
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[ Interaction. Engagement ] We become acquainted with our surroundings, with space and material, through repeated engagement and interaction. We utilize our senses to gather information and to experience a first time encounter, but as we continue to repeat this experience we begin to get familiarized with the space or the object. We begin to understand it and we begin to mold it in our minds, or sometimes physically to adjust it to our ideals.
Haptic Sense | Touch According to Juhani Pallasmaa in his book Eyes of the Skin, the sense of touch is the mother of all senses and the most important at that. Our bodies are covered with skin; even our eyes are made up of a thin layer of protective skin. He quotes the French philosopher René Descartes in saying that touch as a sense is “more certain and less vulnerable to error than vision”. Everything we touch with our bodies affects us and molds our perceptions. Fig. 18. The craft of orange peeling: Old San Juan
Ocularcentrism As Pallasmaa notes in his book that our society has become ocularcentric, meaning there is a strong reliance and emphasis on the visual sense, so much so that the other senses are sometimes negated. We see constant pictures of what we should want on television and billboards and of what we should look like on social medias. There is an overload of visual information for us to take in daily as we go about our day. Imagery is a powerful tool and one that could be delivered efficiently and cost effectively to the masses. I believe deeply that this reliance on technology and visual gratification is dampening slowly the connections that we have with others and with our surroundings. I speak only of my personal experiences of course, but I see how social media has replaced personal human interactions; how text messages have replaced conversations, even though it is so difficult to convey tone in so little words, but we have become so afraid to lose time that we have begun to lose touch.
Architecture has done much of the same. I refer to architecture as the built environment around us, not just the work of architects but that of contractors as well and those who are mostly concerned about profits and the bottom line. I call this the architecture of functionalism. Many of the structures and buildings around us are well functioning in a physical form but fail to satisfy us in an emotional way. These buildings may meet all of the rules and requirements set forth by the authorities in regards to spacing and function, but somehow the beauty and the quality is sometimes left out of the equation.
In that sense we have a connection to the outside world through climate and light. Nonetheless, this is not the rule for every space, and so we are sometimes subjected to spaces, which completely remove us from our surroundings.
Of course this is not an absolute statement as we do see some rules that call for us to maintain a connection with our environment. For instance, the law states that every bedroom must have a window facing the exterior of the building. The main reason for this, and the main reason behind most of our building rules is safety. The window serves as a fire escape in the event of a fire. However, the window also serves to ventilate the room and to bring in natural light. 21
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Fig. 19. City haze
On Vision | Juhani Pallasmaa We have an innate capacity for remembering and imagining places. Perception, memory and imagination are in constant interaction; the domain of presence fuses into images of memory and fantasy. We keep constructing an immense city of evocation and remembrance, and all the cities we have visited are precincts in this metropolis of the mind.
Our capacity to imagine, remember and inhabit a space; the metropolis of the mind, built from every city we have ever visited; the power of enchantment that is elemental to art; the aura that surrounds a work of art; the interplay of our own emotions and state of mind with (and on) a work; encountering ourselves in what we see.
Visual Overload
Enhancing the visual experience
Fig. 20. Vintage coffee
Focused vision allows no escape. Everything is laid out in front of your eyes sharply so that you may analyze it but the conclusions are drawn and the picture is rigid and unchangeable. The end of the story has been told, and you are a mere spectator.
The scope of peripheral vision allows for a narrower focus with an undefined perimeter. This pinpoint focus still allows the viewer the pleasure of a guided discovery.
With blurred vision you get to tell the story. You see an aura of the space, through its colors and shapes. It allows you to be a part of the world presented before you and to envelop you.
analytical
peripheral
creative 23
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On Vision Vision has become the dominant sense in our society. Every day we are bombarded with images trying to sell us something, we rate ourselves in comparison to others on how we look physically, what clothes we wear, what things we have and many other superficial factors that are part of the visual realm. In turn, this has opened up opportunities for designers to capitalize on. Everything that we use is a product of design, good or bad. I often see students in my field get caught up on the aesthetics of a project and how they are perceived on the outside, mainly because it is a concept reinforced in our society.
Architects, as designers of space and the materialized world, have a responsibility to create environments that engage the user deeper than what can be seen. I
In Eyes of the Skin, Pallasmaa states that the deliberate suppression of sharp and focused vision allow for a remarkable experience of space and hapticity.
In our modernity and with the use of our current technologies, we have become accustomed to the clarity of vision provided to us by our high definition television, our smart phones with their ever-sohigh megapixel cameras that can capture a moment in which there is nothing left to the imagination. In this manner we are given everything up front and laid out before our eyes for examination and we are given little room for our own interpretations of what things could be.
Two alternatives for sharp vision would be blurred vision and peripheral vision, both which allow for part of the experience to be left up to the individual to sense what is being shown.
Blurred vision In blurred vision we can only discern colors and maybe some shapes, but it is not clear enough to understand what we see. We must use context clues from the visual, if possible use our other senses to hear, to feel, to make assumptions about what it might be. This takes more time than analyzing an image, which is sharp and making a quick decision in how we feel about it.
Peripheral vision Peripheral vision works in conjunction with focused vision. We may be looking at something but through our peripheral abilities we can sense what is around it and around us. Peripheral vision heavily influences our experience of space and our surroundings.
According to Pallasmaa, peripheral vision integrates us with space, while focused vision pushes us out of the space and makes us mere spectators looking from afar. We can then understand the levels of vision that can be utilized in the creation of architecture, how we can render a world clear and defined for the individual to analyze or we can begin to mold their experiences with the manipulation of visions into something that allows the individual to be the creator of part of our story untold.
Fig. 21. Diagram of visual variations Fig. 22. Tunnel view of escalator in London 25
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Fig. 23. Haptic Beads construct
Hapticity [mimesis] In representation of these ideas of engagement through hapticity, a construct was made. The object, which is called Haptic Beads, represents the contact between the person and the object and through repeated interaction the creation of memories and the imprint left on both. Because our hands act as explorative tools in our quest to experience and of fulfillment of our most primal haptic sense, the intent of the object or construct is to engage the hand at the very sensitive fingertips, leaving a trace of said interaction both on the hand and on the object.
The goal of this object was two fold, to facilitate an interesting interaction for the hand through the materials chosen, and to create an imprint of this interaction as a means of creating a memory and a story. This is a prime example of how experiences with our built environment work. We take from the object a physical proof of the interaction and a mental imprint in form of a memory. In turn, the object and the space also show traces of our use, like stone steps that wear out from repeated use or a small dirt trail on a grassy area created by our journey through it every day. I call these body memory and material memory. 27
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Fig. 24. Bead variety
2. Texture | size
Parts to the whole 1.
Scent and memory
The object is composed of a wooden, Spanish cedar frame, chosen because of its soft and delightful scent. This type of wood is used in cigar humidors for two reasons. One because it is absorbent and helps to stop moisture from building up, and the second reason is because of its strong smell which helps drive away tobacco worms and also imparts a light woody flavor to the stored cigars. Scent plays a big part in the recollection of memories. As the author Helen Keller, who was deaf-blind, stated “Smell is a potent wizard that transports you across thousands of miles and all the years you have lived�. I hoped that the scent of the Spanish cedar could play a small part in the imprinting of a memory of the interaction with the construct.
variation
The most important part of the engagement for this construct is the beads. The wooden frame holds within it rows of round beads. Most of the rows contain medium sized wooden beads, but there are a few variations in size and material to allow a diverse tactile experience. The rows are organized from smaller to larger, in order for the hand to be able to feel all of the beads, and are attached to the wooden frame by a bungee clear cord tied at the ends. This allows for the hand to press down into the beads and cause them to sink lower. The arrangement of the beads is as follows. On the smaller side there are small mineral beads, they are small round rock like beads with crystals inside. These are colder than the rest and are followed by the medium sized wooden beads, which keep at a constant comfortable temperature. Following the wooden row of beads is a special row. This row of beads is made up of larger, cloudy glass beads, which are attached to a metal rod that can be removed so that the beads can be placed in the freezer and made very cold to the touch.
Fig. 25. Assembly 29
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Fig. 26. Winter in Central Park
Memory [body + material] I quickly touch upon the idea of memory, which has not yet been fully explored, as it can be a topic on its own. In an attempt to understand the concept of memory I have broken it down into two parts: Muscle memory and material memory.
Body memory Muscle memory or body memory is synonymous with motor learning. Its definition is to consolidate a specific motor task into memory through repetition. Thus, the more we encounter the same interaction the more our bodies and our brain build up a memory of it. The simple graph below illustrates my understanding of muscle memory.
The first contact or experience is important in assimilating the sensorial information that we are receiving. This encounter may be exciting as it is unprecedented and the sensations are new, although we use our recollections of previous experiences to make observations and form our opinions. After this experience where we have recorded our feelings and responses to the interaction there is a learning curve. With consequent encounters with the same object or space, we become more familiarized with it. In turn, less focus is needed as our body begins to learn the ins and outs and create more intimacy and trust with the other.
Fig. 27. Diagram of muscle memory In a simple equation: muscle memory = motor task + repetition.
With every encounter we begin to create a muscle memory and a motor reaction to the object or space, and after we understand, we may begin to act upon it, explore it and manipulate it to our imaginative satisfaction.
Fig. 28. Repetition and learning 31
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Material memory The opposite of the aforementioned begins to happen to the object or the space as the interactions increase. Depending on the materiality of the object or architecture we come upon, our imprint begins to be seen or felt on the other sometimes changing it. Take for instance, a pencil. As we use it we are literally taking from it and changing its appearance. We might be a bit stressed and begin to bite down on its eraser. We may be a mechanic or a shop welder and so the pencil begins to become dirty with rust and oil. The pencil itself begins to adapt to change according to how we use it until it has served its purpose and is no longer required. These types of connections that we have with the things around us are vital in the creation of memories and in creating a sense of purpose for them in our lives.
33 Fig. 29. Worn steps Fig. 30. Weathered wall
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Fig. 31. One with nature
Connectedness [Wearing in]
“Everything is connected. The wing of the corn beetle affects the direction of the wind, the way the sand drifts, the way the light reflects into the eye of man beholding his reality. All is part of totality, and in this totality man finds his hozro, his way of walking in harmony, with beauty all around him.�
Tony Hillerman, The Ghostway
We are in a way connected to everything that we encounter and it becomes a part of us. We build relationships not only with people and animals, but also with objects and places. We often hear the expression of something wearing out with use. I like to think that even though the material physically wears out, the object is really wearing into us. Like our favorite shoes that with each use and each experience of different terrain and different adventures begin to get scuffed up and marked until they start to come apart and become no longer usable. We have established a relationship with these shoes. They have made us hate them at first for being a bit uncomfortable but we loved how they looked. They went with us on trips, walked with us, protected our feet from the hot pavement and lived a life with us. The same applies to our spaces and in particular our dwellings, the places where we live, where we work and where we feel safe. These places wear into us and live with us even after we have moved on. The small rituals that we perform while utilizing these spaces enrich our experience of them, like opening and closing an old wooden door that creaks, or drawing the curtains placed on a track to adjust the light coming into a space every afternoon. These manual tasks and engagement with our surroundings helps to reinforce the relationship we have with it. Take for instance the architecture of Tom Kundig in Seattle, in particular his large wall/window for the Chicken Point Cabin shown on the right. This window opens up the space to the outdoors through the manual manipulation of a mechanical system. Every time you want to open this window, you must engage intimately with it and feel the motion of the wheel with your hands and maybe even feel the weight of the window. In Kundig’s view, the object is saying to the user “stop for a moment and be aware of what you’re doing and where you are”. What you’re doing is acknowledging the window, analyzing it, learning how to make it work and in doing so, you are rewarded with a splendid view. Where you are is in a materialized moment in time. Fig. 32. Chicken Point Cabin by Tom Kundig 35
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Ritual
[ Function. Symbol. Ritual ]
“Modern dwellers have now mostly lost their knowledge of how to migrate within their houses or how to transform them. The rituals that once accompanied such adaptations no longer exist to carry out the story of the place.� Ritual House Fig. 33. Top. Japanese tea ceremony Fig. 34. Left. Tea ceremony components Fig. 35. Right. Tea ritual
According to the Oxford dictionary, a ritual is a gradual change of a useful action into a symbol and then into a ritual. Note that the change is gradual, so there is the idea of repetitive engagement, which was previously discussed. Through repetition of the action, we begin to imbue meaning into it. Whether it’s praying the rosary every night, taking a hot bath after getting home from work, or listening to your favorite piece of music in the morning before going about your day. Such actions serve a purpose, whether it’s to strengthen our faith, or to relax our body and mind. We begin to incorporate these functions into our lives because we find them important or useful and so we assign them a meaning. These symbolic actions then become small rituals that make up a part in who we are and how we live our lives.
Interior and exterior influences Rituals are influenced by two factors: interior and exterior. Interior factors correspond to cultural influences in our upbringing. They are embedded into us through customs and traditions, sometimes by our parents or others close to us. On the other hand, there is an influence from exterior factors such as circumstances and surroundings, and that our response to these can begin to form a ritual in itself. An example of this is walking home from school every day and taking a specific path because of the shading provided by the trees and the sound of birds on the trees that make for a pleasurable experience. Perhaps there is more than one path that can be taken home, but you chose the one that brings you the most enjoyment and you repeatedly do so, forming a habit or ritual. In relation to architecture the intrinsic rituals are reflected in how we change a space to suit our needs, thus leaving our imprint on them. Extrinsic rituals, or those formed in response to our surroundings, are a reflection of the influence that we receive from the world around us. One incites our action onto the space, and one allows the space to mold us and shape our patterns.
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Fig. 36. Scandinavian Lavvu Structure
“As we occupy dwellings, we make certain adjustments for comfort in response to changes in the natural environment. We repeat these adjustments in concert with the unique rhythms of weather and climate in our particular setting. This repetition can give rise to rituals that feed our souls.� Ritual House
Fig. 37. A Sami (Lapp) family in Norway
Fig. 38. Interior of Lavvu 39
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Companionship in escape “Without consciously looking at them, we breathe in our surroundings with all our senses. In some places, the outer, communal, world only makes us feel exhausted and unwell. No wonder people seek inner, private, relief by artificial stimulants.” Places of the Soul
In thinking about what this project should be I kept going back to the idea of dwelling and escape. According to Henry David Thoreau, dwelling in essence covers our bare needs for shelter and protection. In a way it does so psychologically as well, as in our minds we become accustomed to the physical and emotional ties we establish with our surroundings, and our intimate interaction with our place of dwelling is at the forefront of our every day experiences. Our place of dwelling at its simplest form becomes a protector of our minds and bodies and a place for us to decompress from daily stresses. Our home gives us a chance to create a positive experience through the personal relationship we have with our senses and according to Bachelard in Poetics of Space, it allows us to take root in a “corner of the world”. Our home then becomes a mediator between the world and us: it receives us, cleanses us, and releases us back into it. In this way I think of our place of dwelling and other scales of escape spaces, such as parks, as a sort of filter of our souls.
Fig. 39. Diagram of daily cycle of energy transfer
The Home Thinking of the home as an enabler of intangible and emotional connections, I can’t help but notice how far away we have skewed from that belief. Our homes have slowly evolved in accordance with our search for convenience and practicality. For instance, in many places we no longer use the front door or the porch as an entry or a social space. Because of the increasing dependency on the automobile, our homes have adapted and our progression ritual into our homes has changed. Some of us no longer use the sidewalk and walk through the pretty front garden and through our front door. We park our cars in our attached garages and proceed to enter our homes through the sometimes clutter-filled garages and laundry areas. We sometimes forget the thresholds and spaces that the house has to offer. There are different housing typologies that incorporate this idea of a space that acts as a threshold and a connection to nature, what I call an escape place. For instance, the Charleston Single, which I encountered in my recent trip to Charleston in South Carolina. This housing typology incorporates a large private garden that serves as a threshold from the outside world into the private sanctuary that is the home. It’s like a cleansing of the palate or a washing of the feet in an emotional level, to experience the beauty of nature before entering one’s dwelling.
Fig. 40. Charleston Single house
Moreover, in looking at the dichotomy of these worlds, I began to think of the outside world as chaos and of the home as harmony and peace. I recognize the need there is for balance and to counteract our daily, sometimes, hyper-sensorial experiences of noise, pollution, stress, visual imagery and the like with spaces and places of harmony with nature and the senses. Fig. 41. Modern suburban house
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[ Individual. House. Environment ]
The diagram to the left simply illustrates the relationship between us, in the center, the house around us, and the environment, which is allowed to penetrate into the dwelling. In this sense, there are three components to the equation of harmony and escape: the individual, the house, and the environment. This becomes a symbiotic relationship between all living parts, as the importance of each component and its role is beneficial to the whole. In inhabiting the escape place we become its companion. We crank the window open to ventilate the space, we clean the leaves off the drains so that water is properly disposed of by the house, and if we fail to do these small jobs, the house fails to function as it should.
All really inhabited space bears the essence of notion of home. (Poetics of Space)
We provide an auxiliary function to the space and the space in turn fills our spirit and provides us a connection with nature. The same happens with the objects that fill this space, they become meaningful co-companions in our experience of place.
Objects as companions These objects fall into two categories: objects of the body and objects of the soul. Objects of the body are those that we use in our daily functions; a chair, a pot, a ladder etc. Objects of the soul are those that connect with us in an emotional level and thus hold a high value for us. This can be a blanket that was given to you by someone else, a painting that you purchased because it spoke to you, or a small collection of figurines that remind you of times passed. These objects may not necessarily be functional in a physical way but they play their part in our emotional well-being. In addition to those two types of co-companions we also have the objects of rituals. I believe these to be objects, which hold both a function and a meaning, serving both our bodies and our minds. An example of such an object could be our rosary beads which we count every night with our fingers, or a special robe that we wear to relax at home. These items, functional and meaningful aid us in our daily rituals and allow us a connection to the place.
Fig. 42. Serenity in space
Fig. 43. Buddhist prayer tools 43
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I have a need to make beautiful, useful things on which I can place my desires. Things, which I can touch, and smell and see and their simple variety could awaken my soul. I want to make things with my hands, carve out wood, make objects for my house, which I can maneuver with my hands and be in direct contact with them and their usefulness, like large warped blinds that cover my eyes from the sun and can be adjusted to illuminate the space around me. A cushion, a chair or mat I can sit on and dwell in my thoughts. One I can unburden myself into and which can hold me closer to the ground where I belong to feel the vibrations in the ground from the footsteps. I want something to spread scents subtle and calming into the air that filters in through the louvers and touching a material, which produces sound. The sounds of night begin to penetrate my abode and I close the louvers. They creak from their weathering as I close them and as I light a fire inside to warm up the space, it is filled with the scent of burned wood and made opaque by the smoke. The house which in the morning was open to waking life around it and the waking sun, at night it begins to close on itself for refuge. During the day the sounds change. When rain falls the house receives it and projects its sounds, as if an audience was clapping for it. The life around it engulfs it, water flows through it and the sound muffles the thoughts. One can only focus on the peaceful harmony of the water falling and flowing. Then there’s silence. The storm is over and the water runs less and less in the form of a small stream. The house is different now as the sun is out and the water vapor is rising, filling the air inside and escaping through the roof. I sit, I eat, I work, I sleep, and so do my house and my surroundings, which adapt to each other. I am part of the house too. There are things I must do to aid in the labors between house and environment, making me a sort of mediator. The few things that fill the house work for the house and for me. We all work for each other. If one does not do its job and does it well, the others suffer. If the chair breaks I can no longer be comfortable in it. If I don’t move the louvers to allow sunlight into the house, I am killing the spirit of the place. And so in complete harmony the three of us stand: house, environment and inhabitant.
Fig. 44. Window to reflection
Thoughts in the rain | Stories of place
Cooking is my passion. I get lost in a world of freshness and delight. The seasons and the earth provide me with food, which fills us and fills our souls. Every day I collect items from the garden from which to create something delicious for myself and for my working husband. I carefully select the items from the ground which are ripe and ready for the eating, and which compliment the flavor of the others. The land tells me what to eat. Whatever grows in that season with the given conditions I plant and reap for our nourishment, and every meal creates an anticipation of what combinations I’ll be able to put together. In the kitchen I feel at peace. Cooking is like conducting an orchestra, every element is different but they all have to be timed right for them to come together as a whole. The steam from the boiling water in the pot fills the air around me. The kitchen begins to warm up. I take out the wooden cutting board and knife to chop the vegetables and this routine makes a very rhythmic and comforting sound, as the knife hits the wooden board underneath it. The vegetables crunch and make a sound of their own, as if their voices must be heard. Everything in the pot begins to simmer and the house smells of a meal. Every crevice and every pore of the house is impregnated with the scent of the spices in the pot. The broth bubbles.
Fig. 45. Kitchen work
SautĂŠing is a different story, an even more vibrant one. When the food is put on the hot pan, an explosion of euphoria and clapping begins to take place, as if welcoming the much-awaited items to be cooked. Welcome! We are hungry and grateful that you have arrived.
Mess in the kitchen
The kitchen has become a mess, which tells the story of what happened there, the careful events of preparation culminating in a meal that honors nature. The house, warm and filled with its aroma. The meal is ready to be served and every flavorful morsel to be enjoyed. 45
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[ Awareness. Consciousness ] Mind. Body. Architecture
Awareness is the state or ability to perceive, to feel, or to be conscious of events, objects, thoughts, emotions, or sensory patterns. In search of awareness of place I began to think about the factors that make up each experience. Of course these would be those things that can be sensed by us, and which come together to form the perception of place. For instance a city has sounds, of birds and automobile traffic, it has smells, sometimes of food or sometimes less pleasant things, it has textures, which we can see and touch and many other small components of a holistic experience.
“Architecture can also be seen as completing the needs of the mind and body. It provides shelter from the elements, a place to cook and eat, a setting to breath and sleep. By physically supporting the renewal of the spirit, architecture can become a means of healing� Temple in the House
Fig. 46. Sense of place: Tampa 47
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Fig. 47. Bamboo construct
Place Markers [Explorative construct]
Sound in place making The objective of the place markers was to create an awareness of one of these components, in this case sound and an attempt on smell, by isolating these properties and placing them in an existing setting. These two items take the shape of wind chimes, activated by wind and motion. One of them is composed of sliced and cut bamboo flutes, hanging by a bungee cord. Some of these were filled with coffee beans in an attempt to activate a olfactory experience when the flutes were sent in motion and they collided into each other. The bamboo was chosen because of its pleasant and relaxing sound. The other construct is made up of eight inch steel square tubing cut up into three pieces and suspended on a thin rope. The sound that emanates from this one is higher in pitch and more distinct and contrasting to the bamboo place marker. The intent with these and the reason why they are called place markers, is because they were to be hung by each of the doors that leads into and out of our studio space, where we work every day. Every time anyone would open the door they would hear the sound of the place marker. Because there were no previous sounds of that kind and the experience was a new one, the initial encounters brought about an awareness of the foreign objects in the studio. My idea was that with time, people would get used to the sound and begin to associate it with the studio, and the sound would blend in and become one more of the components that make up the sense of studio as a place unique to each of us.
Fig. 48. Metal construct 49
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“Smell is a potent wizard that transports you across thousands of miles and all the years you have lived.� Helen Keller Fig. 49. Coffee beans
Scent
[As an activator of memory]
In regards to scent, the idea was to tie the scent of the coffee to a memory of entering the studio, as scent is said to be the sense closest associated with the production and recollection of memories. In fact, there is an airline that has a signature perfume for its flight attendants, so that the customers who fly with them will remember their wonderful flying experience and be drawn to fly with them again. Furthermore, You can utilize your body’s responses to scents and the memories they evoke to induce a desired feeling or effect. According to guru Deepak Chopra, M.D., you can, through Neuroassociative conditioning, link a healing response to a given smell. The way this works is by training your body to associate a particular scent with a pleasant or happy experience. Every time you smell that particular scent, your body reacts by prompting a positive response. This is a tool that is utilized by some businesses and even practiced by Realtors, who make the houses they’re selling smell like fresh baked cookies in an attempt prompt a nostalgic response from a prospect and sell a home. Fig. 50. Process of making 51
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Dwelling as a receptor
[Honoring nature and its cycles]
In designing an escape place or a place that connects to its surroundings it is important that the space becomes a receptor and amplifier of the motions and cycles of nature. A great example of such structure is the Teshima Art Museum in Japan. The space is curved and the walls and floors meld into one another. The walls become a dome overhead punctured by an oculus open to the environment. From within the space the inhabitant can feel the wind blow, whose direction is marked by a hanging string, and through the oculus water is allowed to enter the building. Once in the building, the water is highlighted by the sloped floors that create a path for it to transverse and pool to eventually be caused to evaporate by the head of the sun. In my opinion this building not only receives its surroundings as part of the experience, but it also makes you aware of the small details that have been orchestrated by nature and design. In this sense, a building can highlight the presence and absence of nature’s passage. For instance a metal roof allows you to hear the falling of a rain storm upon it, and when it ceases there is an overwhelming peace that is noticed by the absence of the rain.
Fig. 51. Top. Teshima art museum interior Fig. 52. Bottom. Teshima art museum exterior
Fig. 53. Journey of a water drop 53
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Stimulation
We require variety in sensory experiences, for without constant stimulus our senses wither. This can be achieved in a balanced way through what psychologists call “difference within sameness”. Uncontrolled variety is too bothersome and discordant, while a unified variety will bring us delight. Low stimulation of our senses gives us stability and predictability for stress-free environment, while high stimulation gives us the contrast and variety to make us feel alive. Note, however, that repeated enjoyment of external stimuli causes dullness. For instance, a cook may not enjoy his own food, or music becomes annoying as it’s played out on the radio.
We can achieve a good combination of these by incorporating slight changes in an otherwise repetitive setting. Take the Savannah historic district illustrated on the right, as an example. After being there recently and analyzing its layout, I realized that part of what makes it successful it’s the combination of these two elements. In one hand the hard grid system peppered with gardens and places for respite allow the citizen a continuous and predictable experience. It is safe and we are oriented well in the grid. On the other hand the area by the riverfront contains drastic elevation changes, changes in lighting conditions, surface textures and many other exciting and unpredictable features, that we would not expect from experiencing the gridded city.
Fig. 54. Analysis of Savannah, Georgia (Historic District) 55
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Life of the Material [Wabi Sabi]
In aiming to create a connection between the individual and the space and its objects, it is important to keep in mind what materials could be utilized to reinforce the spirit we are trying to create. Usually these materials will be natural and have a life of their own. They will serve their purpose and they will age, gracefully if allowed, and wither away with time. One of the most essential principles in the Japanese culture is the notion of Wabi Sabi and the recognition that the beauty of any object lies in its flaws. Wabi stands for the simplification of things to their essence, and Sabi speaks of the sense of change brought about by the passage of time. The concept of building places that age with us, that we connect to, that live along side us and help us physically and emotionally as we help keep them up is beautifully poetic. If we built in this way we might just find the satisfaction we seek in the simplicity of our nature.
Fig. 55. Wabi Sabi interior Fig. 56. Table of things 57
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An opportunity for escape [transient destination]
In seeking unity between us and our world, I propose an architectural escape for the mind and the body, in search of sensory fulfilment and the renewal of the self. Where would such an escape be appropriate? Why not insert a break amongst the chaos. The dichotomy between having a moment of pause and reflection in a place of constant movement seems fitting. A transportation hub lends itself to this idea, as it is a necessary and useful tool we encounter ceremoniously and ritualistically. This transient place touches the lives of many, and can become a place of decompression and even a destination on its own for the community surrounding it. Fig. 57. In a moment 59
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Water Ferry Terminal [Plotting our escape]
The project developed is a water ferry terminal that connects the Channelside Tampa area with the St. Petersburg downtown waterfront. The project is kept local to help alleviate existing transportation needs, as well as the need for such an urban escape.
Fig. 58. Initial site selection 61
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Transitory and stationary St. Petersburg is a great city full of public parks, amenities and businesses that the community can benefit from, including the pier which is under re-design. One of the biggest issues in our area is the lack of viable transportation options. We must drive everywhere and take up large amounts of space to park our vehicles, thus requiring parking lots and garages to pop up everywhere. The water ferry would allow for the public to travel to and from St. Pete easily and quickly, whether it be for work, school or to enjoy some time on the waterfront during the weekend.
Fig. 59. Connections graphic
More than a terminal Besides the water ferry terminal serving as a transportation hub, the effort is to de-privatize transportation stations so that they may be used more freely by the public. Take for instance an airport. Most people only go to an airport when they have to travel by plane. The water ferry terminal proposes the integration of the community by allowing the terminal itself to be permeable and accessible by all, and by incorporating green space amenities for the public. The objective is that the space can function to serve a variety of services which become accessible at different times, thus activating the area and its surroundings.
Fig. 60. | 61. Stockholm ferry terminal by Marge Arkitekter
Needs of the community St. Petersburg is known for its small businesses and the people’s support for their locally made goods. Some of these local vendors congregate at the Saturday market in a temporary space to serve the community. The terminal and park could host recurring events such as the market and other community activities, and help these micro businesses with increased foot traffic.
Fig. 62. Produce at the Saturday morning market 65
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My promenade As I walk I float softly following the path laid out for me by the sun, tiny speckles of sun, while touched by the wind, which permeates my surroundings. The waves crash beneath me and I’m surrounded by the beauty of its sound. Fig. 63. Left. Sketch of site and features Fig. 64. Right. St. Pete photo collage
Sensing the surroundings [Worlds]
The water canal that separates the shore from the marinas acts as a marked division between the two worlds experienced. At peak times, the area is vibrant with activity, from people lying on the lawn, sitting, jogging, vendors selling their goods, people walking their dogs, etc. However, once the threshold of water is crossed, the atmosphere changes and grows more silent. The area is more privatized and inaccessible. The basins are filled with beautiful private boats which sit empty in their world.
Sounds The soothing singing of birds fills the outdoor air. Small planes can be heard taking off from the Albert Whitted Airport. Sounds of chatter and music line the streets and the Saturday market. The sound of water and small boats can be heard from the shore line.
Smells The Saturday market floods the air with fragrant smells of delicious foods. The salt water can be smelled from close by.
Fig. 65. Quick site diagram
Fig. 66. Abstract diagram of project site 69
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Fig. 67. Orientation sketch
Fig. 68. Initial sketch construct
Beginnings [In response to site]
The initial form was shaped as a reaction to what was already occurring on the site and what the intent was with the project. The project initially took the form of a fragmented piece with a joint holding the two pieces together. The first piece which was parallel to the shoreline, reacted to the adjacent land and the rigidity of the grid that followed beyond.
The broken piece begins to fold and lead towards the water, in an effort to distance itself from the land mass, leading the visitor towards the ferry while physically enclosing the park more. The building itself acts as a threshold between a private sanctuary on the left, where one enters, and the open, public park space on its right.
Fig. 69. Evolution of construct 71
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Fig. 70. Developed sketch construct
Elements [The thinking behind the parts]
On a trip to San Juan, Puerto Rico made during the research phase I visited the Cata単o water ferry station shown on the right. One of the most evident and successful design decisions in this waiting area was the natural ventilation achieved by the high ceilings and permeable enclosure. I chose to adopt this idea in hopes of creating a deeper connection to place through the opening up of the waiting area to the surroundings: to the smells, to the sounds, and to the people. The terminal would be composed of a large, semi- enclosed area that leads towards the ferry docking and passenger loading, and an air-conditioned, enclosed area that extends serving a more private program. Fig. 71. Catano water ferry station in Old San Juan Fig. 72. Porous metal enclosure. Catano station
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Fig. 73. Sketch
Beginnings [The playful feedback of movement and touch]
In an effort to engage in playful construction and explore ideas of materiality, the construct seen here was created. The construct incorporates ideas of movement and adaptation of spaces, as well as haptic feedback as certain components are pressed. For instance, investigating how a walking surface could respond and slightly bounce as one’s weight presses in and releases. Our bodies would register this slight movement in the ground condition.
Another exploration was the relationships between the spaces. As the large open space begins to enter the larger enclosed space, which represents the more private program, it begins to shape the entry space below and create a small atrium space.
Fig. 74. Top. Construct. View 1 Fig. 75. Bottom left. View 2 Fig. 76. Bottom middle. View 3 Fig. 77. Bottom right. View 4
Fig. 78. Final model
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Open playground [Sheltered journey]
Given the beautiful conditions of the sunny, ocean front site, the Ferry Terminal boasts of an open air ground level, from botanical gardens over water to a shaded promenade that guides you to a ticket booth and waiting area. On the right side of the terminal is a large park with a waterfall fountain and gathering area, as well as planters with trees to provide shade along the walk through the park and the boardwalk that leads to a park beyond the site. The purpose of the openess and porousity of the ground level is to envelop the visitor with the sounds, smells and sights of the place, while providing the necessary protection and comfort.
Fig. 79. Left. Ground floor plan Fig. 80. Right. Top view of final model 79
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Fig. 83. Tunnel sketch
The approach [Pedestrian bridge]
Fig. 81. Pedestrian bridge Fig. 82. Pedestrian bridge rotated
A pedestrian bridge was conceived early on because of the opportunity to draw pedestrians coming from across the site on the south side. This path was envisioned with the idea and embodiment of anticipation. From across the small body of water that separates the site from the shore, the passerby would not be able to distinguish much of the building. The path would be mostly covered and as it approaches the building, it cuts through the botanical garden that runs the length of the west side.
The creation of the approach bridge incorporated the visual elements investigated in the vision portion explained previously. The objective was to have a focal point of vision, which is the lantern piece in the center. Everything besides this focus point becomes blurred. From afar the path can be seen piercing the botanical garden and terminating in the lantern. Once aboard, the pedestrian bridge encloses you from your surroundings, allowing you only hints. Slits on the wall allow sunlight and wind, and allow you moments of views, while an opaque wall on the right makes the shadows from the trees and plants around you come alive inside the tunnel. This way, its like feeling your way around the space and slowly learning what it is about. Fig. 84. Final construct. Pedestrian approach 81
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The approach [pedestrian bridge] Fig. 85. Left. Pedestrian tunnel. Rendered view Fig. 86. Right. Overall project sketch
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Botanical garden [Scent-station]
After entering the site through the pedestrian bridge, the journey takes you through a sort of cleansing space. The botanical garden was conceived as a buffer from the city and also a place to come in contact with nature and its wonderful scents, colors and textures. The walk through the botanical garden is on an elevated platform atop a pond that runs north and to the end of the building. This outdoor experience is meant to evoke a tranquilty and peace, removing you from reality and submerging you into a world of the elements. When it rains, the water cascades down the large slanted wall and into the pond. The wall is made of corten steel so that it shows the trace of the elements with time, and also serves as an amplifier of sound when the rain hits it.
Fig. 87. Top left. Corten steel fountain Fig. 88. Center left. Corten steel panel wall Fig. 89. Bottom left. early sketches of path through garden Fig. 90. Right. Final model. Garden on west side.
Botanical garden [scent-station] Fig. 91. Botanical garden path. Rendered view
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Fig. 92. Model. View from park
“I think about how the light changes over the course of the day and during different seasons. Changes in light and color over the course of the day can create very different atmospheres.”
Scott M. Gustafon
“If you’re lucky, and a building succeeds, the real product has many more dimensions than you can ever imagine. You have the sun, the light, the rain, the birds, the feel.”
Peter Zumthor
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A world above
Fig. 93. 2nd level floor plan
A series of elevated semi-private spaces begin to be elevated above the promenade on the way to the ticket booth and waiting area entrance. These spaces are air conditioned and serve to fulfill the communitie’s existing needs for rentable spaces for small businesses. For instance, the space furthest north can be envisioned as a yoga studio that overlooks the pond and nature around it, as well as the park to the right. In contrast to the public open promenades through the botanical garden, park, and the naturally ventilated waiting area, the more private spaces for rent as well as a cafe within the waiting area are air conditioned to provide thermal comfort as needed.
91 Fig. 94. North view. Beginning of promenade through park
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Fig. 95. View of garden path and study rooms
The promenade [Hall of shadows]
Once around the pond on the north side, the visitor gets a full view of the promenade, the lantern, the park and the water. This shaded but open air promenade serves to provide thermal comfort while allowing the enjoyment of the beautiful weather. The large spaces above along with a roof structure aid to shade the space and provide an interesting interplay of light and shadows as the day progresses.
Fig. 96. View of promenade
The promenade offers planters and spaces for seating as well as access to the restrooms inside the structure and stairs to access the floating rooms. The restrooms are located just inside the slanted wall so that they may experience it in a different way, and have windows that face the botanical garden. above the restrooms and across the rentable business spaces are small individual study rooms that can be accessed during the day when a secluded space is needed for homework, work or just reflection. 93
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The Lantern [Joint . knuckle . Guide]
Fig. 97. Left. Final model Fig. 98. Right. Sketches of lantern piece
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The Lantern [Joint . Knucle . Guide]
The lantern piece is where all the other pieces come together. It serves as a knucle from which vertical circulation arises. At its bottom, it holds the ticket booth and becomes the entrance for the waiting area. Because of its semi-translucent materiality, the lantern’s skin allows sunlight to penetrate it during the day, displaying in return the shadows of those inside it. At night, the lantern is lit up and becomes a beacon to be seen from the surrounding land and water. This piece was named the lantern because it rises taller than the rest of the building and becomes an iconic piece that visually connects you to the place and allows you to identify it from afar.
Fig. 99. Left. Kengo Kuma’s Nest We Grow Fig. 100. Right. View of lantern from park
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Reaching to the water The terminal culminates in a large open waiting room, which has a full sized framed view to the water and the ferry docking station. Directly in front of it, its roof extends to provide protection to the boardwalk and seating area just off the water. Once across the waiting room, the landing pier extends out and into the water. A large double layered wall lines the path and provides views to the other side as well as beautiful reflections of streaks of light onto the water. The dock provides an area for boarding the ferry and terminates in a platform that lowers itself onto the water to allow contact with it. Fig. 101. Connection to water. South side
Fig. 102. Steps at Julliard School in NYC
Waiting area [Permeable sound box]
This is one of the first envisioned spaces and it was important that it became something permeable by the elements to allow the inhabitant a full connection with the surroundings. Another reason for its openess is so that it does not become a very private space, but rather a gathering space for those who need it and essentially are part of the community sustaining it. The space lends itself to people with different objectives, weather someone just awaiting their ferry ride or someone looking for a space to gather with friends and head for coffee and conversation.
Fig. 103. Waiting area and dock
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Fig. 104. Hanging notes installation
Fig. 105. Bamboo ceiling installation
Wind activated sound installation [elemental reactions]
From the beginning of this set of investigations, the hanging notes and the bamboo place makers, there was a fascination with hanging installations because of their ability to be set in action by natural wind forces and thus produce an ambient sound. In the design of the water ferry terminal, the large waiting area is enclosed by a ceiling structure that would have the potential of holding such installations as the one pictured on the left made of bamboo or another light weight material. Because the space is largely open and the ceiling is high, the wind can come in and activate the sculpture to fill the place with the soothing sounds produced by collision of the bamboo pieces. 103
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Waiting area [Permeable sound box] Fig. 106. Left. Waiting area. Rendered view Fig. 107. Right. Sketch
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Conclusion
This Master’s Project explored the issues of disconnection to place and investigated ways in which the connections between the built and natural world could be balanced and strengthened through design. Eventhough we have become a society that relies heavily on the visual sense, we understand how this reliance can be mitigated and our senses enhanced in creative ways. Through the utilization of our other senses, our very primal touch and our sense of hearing, we can begin to integrate ourselves with our spaces and engage with them to create lasting memories. Through the incorporation of rituals our lives are enriched and our relationship with objects and space takes a deeper meaning. The reciprocity of this relationship we have with space and objects around us, leaves in us a strengthened bond and the evidence of use through the weathering of the other. It is a testament of the fragility and ephemerality of our world. In finality, the water ferry terminal seeks to be a mediator between building and place. Opening up to its surroundings and accentuating the sensorial elements given by the site, the building allows the user an uninhibited connection with the existing landscape. Furthermore, the terminal is used consciously to address the current needs of a community through a sensible and responsible approach. 108 Fig. 108. Top view of final model without roof
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Works Cited
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