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CONTENTS the work contained in this portfolio is a collection of my architectural pursuits. throughout my study i have only just begun to realize the responsibility designers have and their role in society. the power of design is significant in shaping a community, a city, and a culture. this realization has led me to seek out different ways of organizing space, articulating volume, and using material purposefully. each project in this body of work explores new territory in my perception of societal improvement. the bredth of work spans material, use, connection, development, and the power of an idea and that idea’s capability. i believe that there are better ways to build the world, and architecture as more than a service is a start.


5th year comprehensive studio

SAMPLING 4th year topic studio


3rd year comprehensive studio

IN-BETWEEN URBANISM 4th year east asia abroad studio


5th year degree project

TIMBER as a concept, TIMBER is an experiment in material as a means for societal benefit. the project is an office highrise designed with heavy timber stretching eight stories above dtla’s arts district. natural materials are used instead of typical concrete and steel as a push for sustainable building with innovative form. TIMBER is completely constructed from wood. CLT panels create the floorplates and structural core, while prefabricated sections of glulam and pre-charred dimensional lumber make up the exoskeleton and envelope. TIMBER is primarily private leasable office space, but contains continuous public access which any passersby can explore during regular operation.

3rd and traction

public circulation form

facade and exoskeleton section study

unrolled public circulation section

enclosure assembly

west facade

foundation system

south facade

structural systems

light well


environmental systems

leasable floor area

site forces

east facade

north facade

SAMPLING SAMPLING is designed from a highly conceptual process. i was set on develenclosed oping a generator for form which satisfies the spatial requirements for functional architecture as well as new formal organization.

res idential


the studio explored musical sampling techniques (cutting, rearranging, remixing, shuffling, etc.) and applied them to the design process. form, program, exposed interaction, and ultimately purpose, is derived from sampling a catalog of forms and modifications. SAMPLING is a live-work community protected communal which provides space for artisan bicycle builders who design, build, and sell their bicycles. a continuous conveyor belt spatial types moves through the building to transport and showcase finished bicycles.


ob servator y

offi ce

factor y


tower transition_slight



circulation_people 01

bend nick



fold split
















housing_units 01

housing_units 02


circulation_people 02

circulation_people 03

public / landscape samples


o ffi c e s a m p l e s


s e c t i on a

se c t io n b

1/8” = 1’ - 0 ”

1 /8 ” = 1 ’ - 0 ”

section B

factory samples

residential samples

communal samples


section A


site plan

floor plan L11 observation tower

floor plan L07 residential block

floor plan L05 residential and communal

floor plan G01 cafe and bicycle store

floor plan B01 factory and loading

sample iteration A

view from city hall

sample iteration B

view from parking lot

view from street

view from back alley

CALA, A+D CALA, A+D is a museum, public gathering space, and an access point between two disconnected los angeles communities: boyle heights and the arts district. the project is sited over the los angeles river beside the historic first street bridge and provides an opporunity to relink these zones. my process focused on the reconnecting potential by joining the bridge, CALA, the A+D museum, arts district, boyle heights, and the los angeles river together. the proposal includes a gold line metro stop on the bridge and extensive public space for all communities. the project opens up and circulates around a center atrium to the river below, furthering the connection to the los angeles river redevelopment project.


To Bridge


To Bridge

Auditorium Perch

Auditorium Perch



Auditorium Level Plan

Auditorium Level Plan

Scale: 1/32” = 1’ - 0” River Bank + 60’-0”

Scale: 1/32” = 1’ - 0” River Bank + 60’-0”

Auditorium Level Plan

Scale: 1/32” = 1’ - 0” River Bank + 60’-0”

Exterior Event Space A


To Auditorium

To CALA First Street Bridge Access Point

Exterior Event Space B

Auditorium Stage


Back of House

Bridge Level Plan

Scale: 1/32” = 1’ - 0” River Bank + 40’-0”

Bridge Level Plan

Scale: 1/16” = 1’ - 0” River Bank + 40’-0”

To Library

Gallery Space

Classroom A

Gallery Space Classroom B

Classroom C To Retail


To Bridge


To Retail Office Kitchen


To River

CALA Level Plan

Scale: 1/16” = 1’ - 0” River Bank + 25’-0”


Library / Book Store

LA River Access Point

Reception / Gift Shop LA River Bike Path

Side Entry Make Maker M ker Sp pace ce e To CALA Cafe Kitchen

Utility Room


LA River Vehicle Path

River Level Plan To CALA

Scale: 1/32” = 1’ - 0” River Bank + 5’-0”

River Level Public Park Level

Section N1


Scale: 1/16” = 1’ - 0” Courtyard Facing North


Water Level

Section A1

Scale: 1/16” = 1’ - 0” Auditorium Facing North


Public Outdoor Gathering



Boardroom N1


Library Auditorium Level

Bridge Level

Auditorium Level

Public Courtyard

Bridge Level

CALA Level

CALA Level

River Level

River Level

Public Park Level

Water Level

Public Park Level

Section E1 Scale: 1/32” = 1’ - 0”

WaterEast Level Main Gallery Facing

Section E1

Scale: 1/16” = 1’ - 0” Main Gallery Facing East

hts Bank02

yle Heig ew - Bo

r Park Vi

LA Rive

Site Plan

Scale: 1/64” = 1’ - 0”


Auditorium Entry

Auditorium Seating Stage




Public Courtyard

Bicycle Path

Mechanical Room Section A1 Scale: 1/32” = 1’ - 0” Auditorium Facing North

Auditorium Acoustics


3/8” Plywood Reflectors Double Pane Heavy Glass Occupied Seating

Major - Steel Trusses Minor - Post and Beam Foundation - Concrete Caisons

NRC: 0.15 NRC: 0.05 NRC: 0.32

Reverberation Time: 1.74 seconds

Longest Span: 155’-0”

Circulation / Access

Building Systems

Gold Line Metro Stop Bridge Level Drop-off LA River Park Pathway

HVAC Plumbing Electrical

Facade Conditions North Faces East Faces South Faces West Faces

Open Glazing 12” Fins 12” Louvers 8” Fins

Estimated Unconditioned Temperature: 82°F

Proposed River Condition Bike Path Seating Community Gardens Consistant Water Level: 18’-0”


Proposed River Condition

Proposed River Condition

Work Learn Play

Bike Path Seating Community Gardens

Bike Path Seating Community Gardens

Total Occupiable Space: 36,890ft³

Consistant Water Level: 18’-0”

Consistant Water Level: 18’-0”

auditorium and gold line

view from arts district

INBETWEEN URBANISM during my semester abroad in east-asia i observed a number of peculiarities. chief among them was the intense utilization of any and all space in urban zones. this short essay is an identification of existing areas conducive to that spatial utilization and postulating how that can be used to positively change similar urban zones. areas i visited in japan, china, hong kong, and taiwan seemed to value leftover space more than in western urban areas. my findings suggest that fostering conditions for community occupied development builds a stronger communal bond with immediate economic results. the INBETWEEN is the community.

Terms In-between: The leftover space after major real-estate acquisitions and developments. Interstitial. Top-down: Large volume capital development; corporate investment; exported prots. Bottom-up: Small volume capital development; personal investment; community-retained prots. Urban Landscape: The structure of urban interactions, including but not limited to built form. Convenience Interaction: Contact between urban inhabitants on the grounds of ease. Destination Interaction: Contact between urban inhabitants on the grounds of interest. Ephemerality: Of or describing the temporary nature of something.

Much of the world’s urban landscape is already established. Its core is occupied, the footprints are set, and the land is occupied. Vacant property is unattainable—cost and opportunity restrict reasonable development. How can there be further growth in such conditions? Must there first be removal of what exists before new opportunities can arise? Do new developments need to wait for vacancy before they can have their turn? How long do they have to wait? Through the Metabolist lens, the only way for growth to continue efficiently is by starting again from nothing—a clean slate allows society to accommodate all the opportunities which utter densification requires. We know, however, that other more realistic possibilities exist. There are proximities within existing conditions that reveal usable spaces in even the tightest scenarios. In Western development there is threshold of space below which we are afraid to occupy—even when that means using more space than is necessary as shown in Figure 01. Things can only be so cozy before we begin to find them claustrophobic—the threshold between coziness and claustrophobic being different in Western and Eastern urban zones. In contrast to Western developmental ideologies, East Asian urban centers shows how functional and how critical the in-between spaces are in the development of community within the urban environment. The in-between urban condition is solely reserved for the community-driven, bottom-up.


LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA Figueroa Corridor, The Row Center


KOBE, JAPAN Kitanagasadori


TOKYO, JAPAN Ueno Station, Ameya Yokocho


TAIPEI, TAIWAN Da’an District, Alleyway Stalls


Figure 01: Diagrams highlighting an identical urban typology (neighborhood commerical) as it exists in different urban zones. Drawing credit to author.


Certain of East Asia’s urban zones deal with space quite differently. This reflection will observe documented instances in Tokyo, Taipei, and Kobe. Every square meter in the urban core has more value (or more accurately put, more opportunity) than an equal dimension in a Western setting. Development in the Western world seeks to continue outwards and upwards only. Only on vacancy does Western development re-look inwards. We often forget about the in-between. There are critical precedents in East Asia where development seeks to occupy the in-between. This is not always an expression of efficiency, but rather of necessity. Pairing this with the extensive infrastructures and the volume of space that infrastructure would otherwise render ‘unusable’, the value of the in-between begins to be apparent. The in-between in the urban environment is a phenomenon capable of enhancing the everyday urban dweller’s experience, and is a condition that should be emulated and studied in parallel urban zones while conditions necessary for its natural growth are fostered.

Figure 02: A zakkyo building with 34 different businesses in Tokyo, Japan. Photo credit to author.

The in-between extends across many typologies; it can be dining, fruit stalls, local markets, drug stores, tourist trinkets, snacks, clothing stores, laundromats, currency exchanges, massage parlors, bookstores, karaoke, creative offices, manufacturing, specific retail, pet grooming, bars, counterfeit goods, and even sleeping accommodations. They are found in various zones within the urban environment, including residential streets, alleys (especially around tourism zones), subway stations, beneath train tracks, and in repurposed buildings as with Tokyo’s common zakkyo buildings, shown in Figure 02. In much of Japan, especially Tokyo, the in-between is most apparent around transportation infrastructure. Figure 03 shows that infrastructural infill is not ‘clutter’ or unappealing, but can serve as a showcase for infrastructural monumentality. The spaces which are undesirable to certain top-down developments leave lots of nooks and crannies for the bottom-up to grow. While top-down does find itself in close proximity to transport infrastructure, it is typically found at the destination—the area around a station or the station itself. It is more common to find bottom-up developments along and under the endless stretches of top-down infrastructure. It is in this developmental climate that allows for the rich variety of businesses, which in other circumstances may not have a chance, to experiment and thrive. This ties into the next important factor in urban environments: speed. 4

Development, renovation, redevelopment. The urban is rapidly and constantly changing. It is growing, decaying, revitalizing, and simply existing—at all times. The inhabitants follow a similar rhythm. How long does it take to get somewhere? where can I go from there? has that area improved? can I make it before my meeting at 2:30PM? The current urban climate is catering toward a culture of convenience. The effort-to-satisfaction ratio is something which these types of spaces can easily accommodate. The in-between in Japan does respect its cultural context. Privacy and independence are a big issues in the culture, and the in-between can support those needs on the micro-interaction level. Personal space is still attainable despite tight physical limitations shown in Figure 04. Join convenience and independence and it is clear how the in-between is so prevalent in Japan—it is a supplement to the cultural practices which its occupants participate in.

Figure 03: Bicycle storage underneath a highway overpass near Uguisudani Station in Tokyo, Japan. Photo credit to author.

Figure 04: An ‘Ichiran’ ramen restaurant with optional individual booths for privacy in Tokyo, Japan. Photo credit to author.

Figure 05: The Kitanagasadori directly underneath train infrastructure in Kobe, Japan. Photo credit to author.

A specific example in Japan which expresses several types of in-between would be Kobe’s Kitanagasadori, visible in Figure 01. In this area there is a continuous stretch of small shops, restaurants, arcades, and karaoke bars located underneath the Tokaido Main Line. This area hosts three storefront faces, one facing the street from underneath the elevated rail tracks, and two others facing each other in an enclosed under-track corridor. This corridor is where the bottom-up thrives. Identical ecosystems exists in Tokyo’s Yurakucho station, Ueno station, Tokyo station, Kanda station, and essentially every station on the Yamanote line (Figure 06). Japan does an excellent and intentional job incubating this type of urban space. The existence of these spaces provide enough opportunity for business owners to occupy only the space they need—an efficiency 5

not possible in much of the Western developmental mindset. They are however, just one of several societies which realize the potential of the in-between. Taipei, Taiwan. A city of night markets. Here the in-between grows differently, and perhaps with less control. Street markets are abundant across the city, and these examples are in-between in time as much as they are in space. Most operate between 5:00PM and 12:00AM, leaving certain urban areas less active for much of the day. Take Shilin Night Market for example; this market (among others) is a mix of micro to medium scale businesses and temporary street stalls carts which sell food, clothing, souvenirs, alcohol, and even offer carnival games (Figure 07). The ephemerality of much of the market (the carts and stalls which disappear from the area during nonbusiness hours) gives almost too much potential for bottom-up growth—too much meaning that sparsely regulated businesses have the potential to take advantage of urban participants. However for reasons soon to be highlighted, that type of nefarious activity is self-correcting in certain ways. Shilin and other night markets are points of intense urban interaction. They are frequented not only by tourists, but by families, students, adults, and the elderly of the immediate community (Figure 08). This is quite contrasting to other ephemeral markets in parallel urban zones (Hong Kong’s Mong Kok or Temple Street markets specifically) where the majority of clientele are tourists and the vendors are primarily interested in unloading merchandise, not in enhancing and interacting with the community. Community driven goals make these areas become more than just a shopping or dining zone—they become integral parts of the community for gathering, recreation, and small scale businesses. They are truly run by the community, servicing the community, benefiting the community.

Figure 06: An abundance of restaurants underneath train infrastructure near Tokyo Station, Tokyo, Japan. Photo credit to author.

Figure 07: Shiling Night Market has businesses moving with the crowd in Taipei, Taiwan. Photo credit to author.

Figure 08: Gongguan Night Market is known for its focus on food in Taipei, Taiwan. Photo credit to author.


It is useful to compare the above examples of Kitanagasadori and Shilin Night Market, as we can see what is central to successful in-between. Similarities are immediately recognizable. The urban inhabitants are constantly given the opportunity to interact within these spaces. In the Kitanagasadori that means that the workers, students, and residents who use the transport infrastructure itself must pass through and interact with the in-between, exposing them to what it offers constantly. This does not guarantee a successful typology of in-between, but it does offer a significant ‘convenience’ factor when, for example, a person is traveling home and stops for dinner or groceries in-between along the way. This type of interaction is what could be classified as a ‘convenience interaction’. Shilin also offers a type of convenience, but with a different twist. The ephemerality of the market makes the organization different every day. Visitors can expect a comfortably similar experience, but never the same experience. The market’s proximity to the MRT is helpful but not critical to its success in the same way proximity is to in-between in Japan. This type of in-between is better classified as a ‘destination interaction’ which in turn promotes urban interaction directly. The in-between as destination generates a focal point for bottom-up opportunities as opposed to Japan’s more micro-linear and macro-web manifestation of the type of space, which is more preferential to gradient bottom-up development (Figure 09).

Figure 09: Tokyo’s rail network (not shown are all minor lines) estimated at around 4,000 km of track. A signicant portion of that length, especially near stations, is utilized in-between space. Image Available:


In both cases the programs and opportunities exist in a dense state. The spaces which these programs occupy are utilized more efficiently in terms of space allocation than typical storefronts, malls, or other top-down commercial constructs. It is this density of urban content on a micro-scale that makes the in-between successful. Drawing from the brief comparison above, it is apparent that this urban condition works from the within the community outwards. The community must be interested in occupying, generating, maintaining, and interacting with the various programs within. Although regulatory conditions vary between the above examples (as they do with all others) the underlying theme is the interaction between people remains constant. Even on microinteractions such as server to diner, diner to diner, or shopper to cashier, there is interaction outside of the realm on top-down, and inside of the realm of ‘convenience’. Efficiency, value, interaction, and opportunity are manifest directly due to this condition. But are these zones of in-between something which will only be successful in East Asia? It appears that each society has its own flavor of in-between in some way. Cultural specificity is necessary in the implementation of the in-between, and may explain why exporting such typologies is unsuccessful. Accepted cultural norms and local societal and political factors are clearly influential in the size and frequency of these interactions and spaces. Cultural comfort in small-scale and micro environments are not niche, but mainstream in Japan, and the Taiwanese urban zones allow for their night markets to exist, despite them being impossible to fully regulate and control. What needs to happen for a more successful, more widespread, in-between in Western nations, namely the United States? From the observations made in field research and subsequently this writing, there are several key factors which have been identified as necessary for the in-between to exist. First, there must be some type of difficulty in new development or redevelopment. This difficulty is arguably already present: entrepreneurs already struggle with acquiring space to operate, and the most lucrative spaces are among the most difficult to be regulated (i.e. in and around public transit hubs, in alleyways, on sidewalks, etc.). In addition to universal development issues, much of East Asia deals with intense land scarcity in urban zones. This is a problem that areas in Western development are beginning to feel more strongly than in the past 50 years. Second, the building and business regulations must allow for such developments—something which in most cases would be impossible in the Western mindset. Finally, and most importantly, the urban inhabitants must be willing to utilize these in-between spaces. With these conditions met, there is potential for in-between urban space to be effectively utilized. These observations may indicate the potential for this condition to spread into urban centers which are not or have not yet reached critical points in their lack of space.


The overall benefits of the in-between are apparent in nearly every facet of the urban condition: underutilized space serves the city in meaningful ways, greater opportunities for bottom-up development become possible, the urban condition will inherently have more variety, and the urban inhabitants have more opportunities to interact with each other through the city itself. More dense conditions allow for more ‘convenience interactions’ which point towards Jane Jacob’s vision of cities, and in her words “[c]ities have the capability of providing something for everybody, only because, and only when, they are created by everybody.” The in-between is a direct of a manifestation of Jacob’s vision for healthy urban interaction. It is only when the city is responding to, and accommodating of, all inhabitants in all of their dealings, that they can be called successful.


References 1.

Boontharm, Davisi, and Darko Radovic. Small Tokyo. Tokyo: Flick Studio, 2012. Print.


Caballero, Jorge Almazán, and Yoshiharu Tsukamoto. “Tokyo Public Space Networks at the Intersection of the Commercial and the Domestic Realms: Study on Dividual Space” Journal of Asian Architecture and Building Engineering November 2006/308: 301-308. Print.


Caballero, Jorge Almazán, and Yoshiharu Tsukamoto. “Tokyo Public Space Networks at the Intersection of the Commercial and the Domestic Realms (Part II): Study on Urban Content Space” Journal of Asian Architecture and Building Engineering May 2007/150: 143-150. Print.


Caballero, Jorge Almazán, and Yoshiharu Tsukamoto. “Tokyo Public Space Networks at the Intersection of the Commercial and the Domestic Realms (Part III): Study on Transit Urban Centers” Journal of Asian Architecture and Building Engineering November 2009/468: 461-468. Print.


Hakamori, Yo-Ichiro. Urban Structure: TUC, CUC. California. Los Angeles, California. University of Southern California School of Architecture. 2016, April 07. Lecture.


Hou, Jeffrey. Insurgent Public Space : Guerrilla Urbanism and the Remaking of Contemporary Cities. New York: Routledge, 2010. Print.


Jacobs, Jane. The Death and Life of Great American Cities. New York: Vintage, 1992. Print.


Kaijima, Momoyo, Junzō Kuroda, and Yoshiharu Tsukamoto. Made in Tokyo. Tōkyo: Kajima Shuppankai, 2001. Print.


Kanto Traffic Report Association. ”v Online.


Koolhaas, Rem, Hans Ulrich Obrist, Kayoko Ota, and Thomas Daniell. Project Japan: Metabolism Talks.../ Rem Koolhaas, Hans Ulrich Obrist ; Ed.: Kayoko Ota with James Westcott, AMO ;. KoÌln: Taschen, 2011. Print.


Mathews, Gordon. Ghetto at the Center of the World : Chungking Mansions, Hong Kong. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2011. Print.


















MEMORY the final embodiment of my architectural undergrad pursuits. in my degree paper and project i am interested in seeking out how architecture can fend for itself as an independent entity, and whether it survives, thrives, or fails in its own goals. ultimately architecture is a human construct: the bricks and mortar need human intervention to fall into place. however, the conceptual nature of architecture as an idea—or as a communicative medium—is beyond the physical. The non-physical is capable of existing beyond even the best maintained physical architecture. as long as the idea exists in memory then it is immortal. this is a work-in-progress that i plan to identify common factors of a memorable type of architecture.

Memory​ ​is​ ​a​ ​record.​ ​It​ ​is​ ​a​ ​reminder​ ​to​ ​the​ ​possessor​ ​of​ ​previous​ ​occurrences.​ ​The magnitude​ ​of​ ​the​ ​event​ ​affects​ ​the​ ​longevity​ ​of​ ​the​ ​memory.​ ​An​ ​insignificant​ ​memory​ ​may​ ​fade, while​ ​an​ ​exciting​ ​one​ ​remains​ ​vivid.​ ​In​ ​this​ ​same​ ​way,​ ​a​ ​section​ ​is​ ​a​ ​memory—a​ ​moment​ ​that exists​ ​statically,​ ​chosen​ ​for​ ​its​ ​excitement.​ ​A​ ​frozen​ ​representation​ ​of​ ​an​ ​object.​ ​The​ ​architect uses​ ​section​ ​to​ ​predict​ ​the​ ​future.​ ​The​ ​architect​ ​imagines​ ​the​ ​experience​ ​before​ ​it​ ​is​ ​possible, making​ ​a​ ​portal​ ​into​ ​spaces​ ​not​ ​yet​ ​crafted.​ ​This​ ​is​ ​the​ ​prediction​ ​of​ ​memory.​ ​It​ ​is​ ​in​ ​this prediction​ ​that​ ​architecture’s​ ​memory​ ​is​ ​first​ ​created.​ ​Each​ ​sketch,​ ​plan,​ ​and​ ​section​ ​becomes​ ​a different​ ​moment.​ ​Every​ ​iteration​ ​alludes​ ​to​ ​an​ ​architectural​ ​possibility.​ ​The​ ​architecture’s design​ ​produces​ ​its​ ​wildest​ ​memories.​ ​It​ ​is​ ​only​ ​after​ ​architecture​ ​is​ ​completed​ ​that​ ​memory​ ​can become​ ​repressed​ ​and​ ​upon​ ​completion,​ ​every​ ​other​ ​possibility​ ​is​ ​ignored​ ​(F​ igure​ ​01​).​ ​If architecture​ ​kept​ ​a​ ​record​ ​of​ ​those​ ​moments,​ ​it​ ​would​ ​be​ ​part​ ​of​ ​the​ ​architecture’s​ ​memory—the series​ ​of​ ​decisions​ ​that​ ​influenced​ ​its​ ​trajectory.​ ​A​ ​childhood,​ ​if​ ​you​ ​will.​ ​Each​ ​decision​ ​informs a​ ​moment​ ​of​ ​memory​ ​and​ ​therefore​ ​a​ ​moment​ ​recordable​ ​by​ ​the​ ​section.​ ​The​ ​architecture’s upbringing​ ​is​ ​its​ ​speculative​ ​conception.

Figure​ ​01​​ ​_​ ​The​ ​potential​ ​for​ ​architectural​ ​change​ ​throughout​ ​its​ ​lifetime;​ ​all​ ​of​ ​it​ ​is​ ​memory.​ ​Credit​ ​to​ ​Author.

There​ ​are​ ​memories​ ​in​ ​architecture​ ​in​ ​the​ ​same​ ​way​ ​there​ ​are​ ​memories​ ​in​ ​people. Perhaps​ ​a​ ​building​ ​thinks​ ​back​ ​to​ ​its​ ​first​ ​sketch,​ ​or​ ​its​ ​scaffolding,​ ​or​ ​to​ ​when​ ​its​ ​component parts​ ​were​ ​joined.​ ​Or​ ​perhaps​ ​it​ ​thinks​ ​to​ ​when​ ​it​ ​was​ ​nothing​ ​but​ ​an​ ​idea,​ ​nothing​ ​but​ ​words. The​ ​architecture​ ​has​ ​more​ ​than​ ​a​ ​physical​ ​presence;​ ​it​ ​is​ ​more​ ​than​ ​the​ ​sum​ ​of​ ​its​ ​parts.​ ​The architecture​ ​is​ ​a​ ​sum​ ​of​ ​its​ ​memories.​ ​It​ ​is​ ​the​ ​sum​ ​of​ ​the​ ​experience​ ​of​ ​each​ ​part—a​ ​process concealed​ ​by​ ​the​ ​finality​ ​of​ ​its​ ​own​ ​existence.​ ​I​ ​propose​ ​to​ ​show​ ​how​ ​the​ ​section​ ​is​ ​capable​ ​of describing​ ​the​ ​invisible​ ​iterations,​ ​decisions,​ ​and​ ​culminating​ ​existence​ ​of​ ​architecture​ ​and​ ​its memory​. In​ ​architecture,​ ​buildings​ ​have​ ​historically​ ​been​ ​a​ ​representation​ ​of​ ​solidity.​ ​Structures endure:​ ​they​ ​have​ ​the​ ​capability​ ​to​ ​exist​ ​long​ ​beyond​ ​their​ ​makers,​ ​occupants,​ ​observers, admirers,​ ​and​ ​critics.​ ​They​ ​outlast​ ​external​ ​forces—societal​ ​shifts,​ ​new​ ​cultures​ ​and​ ​dying customs,​ ​the​ ​pinnacle​ ​of​ ​empires​ ​and​ ​the​ ​birth​ ​of​ ​revolutions—and​ ​internal​ ​stresses—states​ ​of care​ ​and​ ​neglect,​ ​people​ ​and​ ​events,​ ​colors,​ ​materials,​ ​and​ ​programming.​ ​Architecture​ ​can​ ​live​ ​a hundred​ ​lifetimes.​ ​Imagine​ ​if​ ​a​ ​piece​ ​of​ ​architecture​ ​wrote​ ​a​ ​history​ ​book,​ ​if​ ​all​ ​of​ ​the​ ​knowledge a​ ​building​ ​had​ ​could​ ​be​ ​communicated,​ ​if​ ​a​ ​building​ ​could​ ​share​ ​its​ ​memory. But​ ​what​ ​does​ ​it​ ​mean​ ​for​ ​a​ ​building​ ​to​ ​do​ ​such​ ​a​ ​thing?​ ​Let​ ​us​ ​begin​ ​by​ ​defining memory​​ ​through​ ​two​ ​distinct​ ​categories:​ ​biological​ ​memory​ ​and​ ​architectural​ ​memory​.​ ​First,​ ​and generally,​ ​memory​​ ​will​ ​refer​ ​to​ ​moments​ ​of​ ​interest:​ ​firsts,​ ​collisions,​ ​conflicts,​ ​resolutions, discoveries,​ ​traumas,​ ​and​ ​achievements.​ ​Biological​ ​memory​​ ​will​ ​specifically​ ​refer​ ​to​ ​what​ ​a person​ ​can​ ​remember​ ​while​ ​architectural​ ​memory​ ​will​ ​specifically​ ​refer​ ​to​ ​what​ ​the​ ​architecture has​ ​experienced.​ ​Architectural​ ​memory​​ ​can​ ​be​ ​the​ ​manifestation​ ​of​ ​collective​ ​biological

memory​,​ ​as​ ​in​ ​the​ ​case​ ​of​ ​events​ ​within​ ​the​ ​scope​ ​of​ ​the​ ​architecture​ ​in​ ​question.1​ ​Events​ ​define architecture​ ​more​ ​than​ ​architecture​ ​defines​ ​itself.​ ​The​ ​goal​ ​of​ ​most​ ​architecture​ ​is​ ​to​ ​influence events,​ ​and​ ​those​ ​events​ ​comprise​ ​the​ ​architecture’s​ ​memory​.2​ I​ n​ ​biological​ ​memory​,​ ​each instance​ ​is​ ​a​ ​record​ ​of​ ​an​ ​event​ ​from​ ​a​ ​single​ ​perspective,​ ​whereas​ ​architectural​ ​memory describes​ ​each​ ​instance​ ​as​ ​the​ ​sum​ ​of​ ​biological​ ​memory​​ ​overlaid​ ​on​ ​form​ ​and​ ​space.3​ ​Artifacts of​ ​use​ ​are​ ​apparent​ ​in​ ​the​ ​city.​ ​Roads​ ​crack,​ ​colors​ ​fade,​ ​materials​ ​wear.​ ​Wear​ ​is​ ​both​ ​biological and​ ​environmental.​ ​The​ ​section​ ​is​ ​capable​ ​of​ ​exposing​ ​the​ ​memory​​ ​in​ ​architecture​ ​in​ ​several ways,​ ​first​ ​being​ ​its​ ​physical​ ​state.​ ​To​ ​reiterate,​ ​biological​ ​memory​​ ​is​ ​a​ ​section​ ​of​ ​time​ ​recorded, stored,​ ​and​ ​retrieved​ ​by​ ​a​ ​single​ ​entity​ ​(a​ ​person),​ ​and​ ​architectural​ ​memory​​ ​is​ ​the​ ​total​ ​collection of​ ​biological​ ​memories​ ​within​ ​its​ ​own​ ​boundaries,​ ​and​ ​of​ ​relevant​ ​environmental​ ​forces​ ​without its​ ​boundaries—biological​ ​memories​ ​are​ ​the​ ​parts​ ​of​ ​an​ ​architectural​ ​memory​’s​ ​whole, generating​ ​a​ ​flux-field​ ​condition​ ​of​ ​reciprocal​ ​part-to-whole​ ​relationships.4 A​ ​section​ ​is​ ​also​ ​a​ ​memory​.​ ​It​ ​is​ ​a​ ​glimpse​ ​into​ ​those​ ​moments—both​ ​past​ ​and future—allowing​ ​us​ ​to​ ​clearly​ ​see​ ​more​ ​than​ ​just​ ​spatial​ ​relationships,​ ​but​ ​the​ ​forces​ ​influencing experience​ ​within​ ​and​ ​around​ ​that​ ​which​ ​is​ ​sectioned.​ ​In​ ​biological​ ​memory​,​ ​a​ ​section​ ​is​ ​the specific​ ​neural​ ​firing​ ​pattern​ ​that​ ​evokes​ ​a​ ​specific​ ​memory​.​ ​In​ ​architecture,​ ​the​ ​section​ ​is​ ​indeed a​ ​two-dimensional​ ​tool…​ ​but,​ ​in​ ​architectural​ ​memory​,​ ​a​ ​section​ ​acts​ ​biologically.​ ​It​ ​responds​ ​to the​ ​sensory​ ​input​ ​(inhabitants).​ ​The​ ​architectural​ ​memory​​ ​is​ ​concrete​ ​when​ ​observing​ ​the​ ​past, and​ ​is​ ​made​ ​concrete​ ​through​ ​section.

​ ​Bernard​ ​Tschumi,​ ​The​ ​Manhattan​ ​Transcripts​.​ ​Academy​ ​Editions.​ ​1994. ​ ​Ibid. 3 ​ ​Aldo​ ​Rossi,​ ​The​ ​Architecture​ ​of​ ​the​ ​City​.​ ​MIT​ ​Press.​ ​1984. 4 ​ ​Stan​ ​Allen,​ ​“From​ ​Object​ ​to​ ​Field,”​ ​Architectural​ ​Design​,​ ​1997. 1 2

The​ ​section​ ​is​ ​capable​ ​of​ ​signifying​ ​architectural​ ​memory​;​ ​each​ ​architectural​ ​memory​​ ​is created​ ​by​ ​and​ ​belongs​ ​to​ ​every​ ​person,​ ​event,​ ​and​ ​phenomenon​ ​involved.​ ​It​ ​is​ ​the​ ​sum​ ​of​ ​all individual​ ​memories​ ​that​ ​collectively​ ​informs​ ​the​ ​architectural​ ​memory​,​ ​and​ ​thus,​ ​the​ ​matured value​ ​in​ ​the​ ​architecture. A​ ​person​ ​remembers​ ​sections​ ​of​ ​their​ ​lives​ ​better​ ​as​ ​a​ ​series​ ​of​ ​firsts.​ ​Their​ ​first​ ​day​ ​of school,​ ​first​ ​visit​ ​to​ ​a​ ​city,​ ​first​ ​interaction​ ​with​ ​someone,​ ​or​ ​the​ ​first​ ​time​ ​hearing​ ​a​ ​word;​ ​that section​ ​of​ ​their​ ​lives​ ​becomes​ ​a​ ​memory​​ ​because​ ​it​ ​weighs​ ​more​ ​heavily​ ​than​ ​its​ ​immediate context​ ​of​ ​sections.​ ​As​ ​time​ ​goes​ ​on,​ ​that​ ​weight​ ​becomes​ ​less​ ​pressing,​ ​and​ ​memory​​ ​fades.​ ​This significance​ ​gradient​ ​is​ ​not​ ​unique​ ​to​ ​biological​ ​memory​.​ ​In​ ​architecture,​ ​we​ ​revere​ ​the​ ​work​ ​that was​ ​first:​ ​the​ ​newest,​ ​most​ ​unique,​ ​expression​ ​of​ ​space,​ ​material,​ ​and​ ​form.​ ​It​ ​is​ ​for​ ​that​ ​reason architectural​ ​history​ ​primarily​ ​recalls​ ​notable​ ​projects,​ ​movements,​ ​and​ ​technologies​ ​while​ ​it disregards​ ​the​ ​redundant,​ ​the​ ​unexciting,​ ​and​ ​the​ ​pastiche.​ ​Architectural​ ​history​ ​is​ ​itself​ ​a collection​ ​of​ ​architectural​ ​memories,​ ​chosen​ ​because​ ​they​ ​are​ ​a​ ​series​ ​of​ ​firsts.​ ​The​ ​architectural memory​​ ​explains​ ​the​ ​architectural​ ​context.​ ​To​ ​ask​ ​why​ ​the​ ​ancient​ ​Mayans​ ​did​ ​not​ ​use​ ​steel​ ​and glass​ ​would​ ​be​ ​foolish—that​ ​culture​ ​at​ ​that​ ​time​ ​existed​ ​before​ ​the​ ​memory​​ ​of​ ​steel​ ​and​ ​glass technologies.​ ​It​ ​is​ ​understood​ ​that​ ​the​ ​architecture​ ​of​ ​the​ ​time​ ​was​ ​influenced​ ​by​ ​its context—geography,​ ​climate,​ ​culture,​ ​materials,​ ​technology—and​ ​the​ ​architectural​ ​memory​​ ​is therefore​ ​tied​ ​to​ ​those​ ​contextual​ ​markers. In​ ​biological​ ​memory​,​ ​stimuli​ ​is​ ​stored​ ​as​ ​groups​ ​of​ ​neurons​ ​rigged​ ​to​ ​fire​ ​together, replicating​ ​the​ ​neural​ ​activity​ ​the​ ​initial​ ​experience​ ​triggered.5​ ​This​ ​implies​ ​that​ ​biological memory​​ ​is​ ​in​ ​fact​ ​tied​ ​to​ ​contextual​ ​neural​ ​markers​ ​in​ ​the​ ​same​ ​way​ ​architectural​ ​memory​​ ​is​ ​tied


​ ​Joshua​ ​Foer,​ ​Moonwalking​ ​with​ ​Einstein​.​ ​Penguin​ ​Books.​ ​2011.

to​ ​its​ ​own​ ​context.​ ​Biological​ ​memory​​ ​is​ ​stored​ ​all​ ​over​ ​the​ ​cortex,​ ​in​ ​specific​ ​regions responsible​ ​for​ ​processing​ ​the​ ​specific​ ​reactions​ ​for​ ​each​ ​memory​.6​ ​Sound,​ ​smell,​ ​sight,​ ​touch, pain,​ ​emotion,​ ​etc.​ ​are​ ​located​ ​more​ ​or​ ​less​ ​independently​ ​from​ ​each​ ​other.​ ​However​ ​these regions​ ​and​ ​their​ ​markers​ ​are​ ​fluid​ ​within​ ​their​ ​own​ ​confines.7​ ​In​ ​an​ ​architectural​ ​context,​ ​Peter Zumthor​ ​asserts​ ​in​ ​an​ ​Archdaily​ ​interview​ ​that​ ​it​ ​is​ ​only​ ​possible​ ​to​ ​remember​ ​if​ ​there​ ​is​ ​an emotional​ ​response.8​ ​This​ ​implies​ ​that​ ​architectural​ ​history​ ​is​ ​actually​ ​only​ ​a​ ​portion​ ​of architectural​ ​memory​.​ ​The​ ​remainder​ ​is​ ​comprised​ ​of​ ​emotion,​ ​day-to-day​ ​interaction,​ ​and​ ​the inhabitants​ ​whose​ ​biological​ ​memory​​ ​generates​ ​the​ ​architectural​ ​memory​.​ ​Zumthor​ ​elaborates​ ​on his​ ​process,​ ​describing​ ​it​ ​as​ ​observational.​ ​He​ ​finds​ ​discrepancies​ ​between​ ​textbook​ ​history​ ​and its​ ​actual​ ​record.​ ​He​ ​says​ ​“the​ ​true​ ​history,​ ​our​ ​families’​ ​history,​ ​our​ ​people’s​ ​history,​ ​is​ ​here, and​ ​here,​ ​and​ ​there,​ ​and​ ​once​ ​again​ ​here,”​ ​throwing​ ​the​ ​validity​ ​of​ ​certain​ ​recorded​ ​architectural memory​​ ​into​ ​question.9​ ​In​ ​order​ ​to​ ​substantiate​ ​history,​ ​we​ ​must​ ​record​ ​more​ ​than​ ​the obvious—we​ ​must​ ​record​ ​the​ ​architectural​ ​memory​.​ ​But​ ​how?​ ​What​ ​form​ ​of​ ​data,​ ​image, drawing,​ ​or​ ​eye-witness​ ​is​ ​necessary? If​ ​every​ ​building​ ​could​ ​show​ ​its​ ​scaffolding,​ ​then​ ​certain​ ​processes​ ​would​ ​be​ ​more apparent.​ ​Efficiencies,​ ​redundancies,​ ​techniques,​ ​and​ ​accidents​ ​could​ ​be​ ​read.​ ​Of​ ​course physically​ ​retaining​ ​scaffolding​ ​is​ ​unhelpful,​ ​intrusive,​ ​and​ ​potentially​ ​detrimental​ ​to architectural​ ​functions.​ ​The​ ​abstraction​ ​of​ ​scaffolding​ ​and​ ​its​ ​necessary​ ​influence​ ​on​ ​design​ ​are the​ ​points​ ​of​ ​interest.10​ ​The​ ​trucks,​ ​workers,​ ​and​ ​tools​ ​that​ ​brought​ ​the​ ​building​ ​together​ ​also ​ ​Ibid. ​ ​Ibid. 8 ​ ​Nico​ ​Saieh,​ ​“Multiplicity​ ​and​ ​Memory:​ ​Talking​ ​About​ ​Architecture​ ​with​ ​Peter​ ​Zumthor,”​ ​Archdaily.​ ​2010. 9 ​ ​Ibid. 10 ​ ​Enrique​ ​Walker,​ ​“Scaffolding,”​ ​Log,​ ​no.​ ​31​ ​(2014):​ ​59-61.​ ​The​ ​majority​ ​of​ ​what​ ​makes​ ​architecture architecture​ ​isn’t​ ​part​ ​of​ ​the​ ​physical​ ​architecture.​ ​The​ ​necessary​ ​but​ ​invisible​ ​parts​ ​and​ ​processes​ ​of architecture​ ​should​ ​not​ ​be​ ​forgotten. 6 7

disappear​ ​when​ ​it​ ​is​ ​completed.​ ​The​ ​maintenance​ ​staff​ ​retire​ ​their​ ​mops,​ ​buckets,​ ​and​ ​paint brushes​ ​out​ ​of​ ​sight,​ ​and​ ​the​ ​occupants​ ​are​ ​not​ ​constantly​ ​performing​ ​the​ ​intended​ ​programmatic function—under​ ​no​ ​circumstance​ ​is​ ​the​ ​full​ ​bounds​ ​of​ ​architecture​ ​apparent.​ ​For​ ​those​ ​reasons, buildings​ ​are​ ​better​ ​explained​ ​in​ ​terms​ ​of​ ​process,​ ​frames,​ ​and​ ​sequences.​ ​Through​ ​those​ ​means it​ ​is​ ​possible​ ​to​ ​expand​ ​the​ ​understanding​ ​of​ ​intention​ ​compared​ ​to​ ​result,​ ​and​ ​as​ ​a​ ​designer, more​ ​accurately​ ​predict​ ​the​ ​future. One​ ​example​ ​is​ ​adaptive​ ​reuse.​ ​I​ ​have​ ​been​ ​conducting​ ​my​ ​research​ ​for​ ​this​ ​investigation while​ ​sitting​ ​in​ ​a​ ​residential​ ​loft​ ​in​ ​a​ ​repurposed​ ​bank​ ​building.​ ​Why​ ​would​ ​this​ ​building​ ​be exempt​ ​from​ ​historical​ ​preservation​ ​efforts​ ​while​ ​some​ ​of​ ​its​ ​contemporaries​ ​are​ ​not?​ ​The contextual​ ​markers​ ​in​ ​the​ ​underlying​ ​architectural​ ​memory​​ ​drive​ ​that​ ​distinction.​ ​There​ ​is emotion​ ​tied​ ​to​ ​architecture,​ ​and​ ​in​ ​most​ ​people’s​ ​minds​ ​today,​ ​it​ ​is​ ​a​ ​misunderstood phenomenon.11​ ​Libeskind​ ​argues​ ​that​ ​architecture​ ​is​ ​in​ ​fact​ ​not​ ​recorded;​ ​he​ ​goes​ ​to​ ​say “Architecture​ ​is​ ​the​ ​biggest​ ​unwritten​ ​document​ ​of​ ​history.”12​ ​Architecture​ ​is​ ​the​ ​record,​ ​and​ ​the architecture​ ​has​ ​memory​.​ ​The​ ​designer,​ ​location,​ ​purpose,​ ​and​ ​material​ ​may​ ​be​ ​recorded,​ ​but​ ​the memory​​ ​in​ ​them​ ​is​ ​not​ ​curated​ ​as​ ​history​ ​is.​ ​Those​ ​parameters​ ​(among​ ​many​ ​others)​ ​are independent​ ​values​ ​which​ ​belong​ ​to​ ​the​ ​architecture,​ ​but​ ​must​ ​be​ ​evaluated​ ​beyond​ ​their collective​ ​sum​ ​in​ ​order​ ​to​ ​understand​ ​the​ ​architectural​ ​memory​. Material,​ ​as​ ​component​ ​of​ ​the​ ​architectural​ ​assemblage,​ ​displays​ ​physical​ ​proof​ ​of memory​—artifacts​ ​of​ ​experience​ ​manifest​ ​in​ ​the​ ​surface​ ​finish​ ​and​ ​structural​ ​integrity​ ​of​ ​the material13.​ ​Material​ ​is​ ​erected,​ ​maintained,​ ​and​ ​degraded.​ ​Material​ ​experiences​ ​luster,​ ​fatigue,

​ ​Daniel​ ​Libeskind,​ ​“We​ ​musn’t​ ​forget​ ​the​ ​emotional​ ​impact​ ​of​ ​the​ ​buildings​ ​around​ ​us”.​ ​CNN​ ​Style.​ ​July 20,​ ​2017. 12 ​ ​Ibid. 13 ​ ​Manuel​ ​Delanda,​ ​Assemblage​ ​Theory​.​ ​Edinburgh​ ​University​ ​Press.​ ​2016. 11

and​ ​wear.​ ​Material​ ​does​ ​not​ ​experience​ ​death​ ​as​ ​long​ ​as​ ​it​ ​stays​ ​architecture.​ ​Take​ ​for​ ​example, the​ ​Croatian​ ​statue,​ ​Gregory​ ​of​ ​Nin.​ ​The​ ​icon​ ​itself​ ​is​ ​a​ ​tribute​ ​to​ ​memory​—an​ ​immortalization of​ ​man​ ​in​ ​material.​ ​The​ ​material​ ​itself​ ​is​ ​not​ ​unliving.​ ​The​ ​material​ ​remembers​ ​(F​ igure​ ​02​).

Figure​ ​02​​ ​_​ ​The​ ​material​ ​remembers​ ​every​ ​touch,​ ​and​ ​every​ ​touch​ ​rubs​ ​the​ ​material​ ​smooth.

The​ ​architectural​ ​memory​​ ​is​ ​concrete​ ​when​ ​observing​ ​the​ ​past,​ ​and​ ​ephemeral​ ​when observing​ ​the​ ​future.​ ​This​ ​leads​ ​us​ ​to​ ​implied​ ​memory​,​ ​or​ ​the​ ​section.​ ​Implied​ ​memory​​ ​is​ ​when the​ ​architectural​ ​memory​​ ​is​ ​not​ ​defined​ ​by​ ​its​ ​context,​ ​but​ ​rather​ ​alternate​ ​versions​ ​of​ ​itself.14 Connotation​ ​referencing​ ​connotation​ ​referencing​ ​connotation​ ​loses​ ​itself​ ​along​ ​the​ ​way.​ ​In​ ​these cases,​ ​those​ ​who​ ​represent​ ​the​ ​memory​​ ​have​ ​the​ ​power​ ​to​ ​manipulate​ ​it.​ ​Denotation​ ​must​ ​be referenced​ ​actively​ ​otherwise​ ​the​ ​predicted​ ​architectural​ ​memory​​ ​is​ ​unlikely​ ​to​ ​align​ ​with​ ​the actual​ ​thing.


​ ​Peter​ ​Zumthor,​ ​Thinking​ ​Architecture​.​ ​Birkhäuser​ ​Architecture.​ ​2010.​ ​Signs​ ​reference​ ​signs.

The​ ​section​ ​is​ ​therefore​ ​a​ ​mnemonic​ ​device.​ ​It​ ​allows​ ​us​ ​to​ ​forget​ ​the​ ​specifics​ ​of​ ​an architectural​ ​memory​​ ​because​ ​it​ ​becomes​ ​a​ ​record​ ​we​ ​can​ ​retrieve​ ​and​ ​examine​ ​anew.​ ​There​ ​is no​ ​need​ ​for​ ​eidetic​ ​memories​ ​because​ ​the​ ​section​ ​recalls​ ​them​ ​precisely.​ ​However​ ​this​ ​requires that​ ​there​ ​be​ ​no​ ​bias​ ​in​ ​the​ ​memory​—nothing​ ​can​ ​be​ ​excluded,​ ​nor​ ​anything​ ​false​ ​added.​ ​The people,​ ​the​ ​soil,​ ​the​ ​political​ ​climate,​ ​the​ ​environmental​ ​climate,​ ​the​ ​architecture,​ ​and​ ​the​ ​cultural value;​ ​so​ ​on​ ​and​ ​so​ ​forth,​ ​until​ ​it​ ​comprises​ ​everything​.​ ​This​ ​brings​ ​out​ ​another​ ​difference between​ ​architectural​ ​and​ ​biological​ ​memory​—there​ ​is​ ​no​ ​choice​ ​in​ ​memory​. The​ ​technologies​ ​of​ ​the​ ​digital​ ​age​ ​allow​ ​us​ ​to​ ​generate​ ​and​ ​store​ ​entire​ ​collections​ ​of data​ ​which​ ​are​ ​capable​ ​of​ ​instant​ ​recall​ ​if​ ​cataloged​ ​correctly.​ ​Data​ ​repositories​ ​in​ ​certain​ ​fields like​ ​weather​ ​forecasting​ ​allow​ ​predictions​ ​to​ ​be​ ​made​ ​accurately​ ​without​ ​accurately understanding​ ​phenomena.15​ ​These​ ​tools​ ​are​ ​better​ ​suited​ ​for​ ​identifying​ ​an​ ​end​ ​goal​ ​(the​ ​desired memory​)​ ​and​ ​devising​ ​the​ ​process​ ​to​ ​reach​ ​that​ ​goal​ ​after-the-fact.​ ​Accurately​ ​imagining​ ​future memory​​ ​through​ ​infinite​ ​iteration​ ​is​ ​possible.16​ ​The​ ​end​ ​goal​ ​is​ ​an​ ​unknown​ ​object​ ​within​ ​a known​ ​objectile17.​ ​If​ ​we​ ​think​ ​about​ ​this​ ​in​ ​analogous​ ​terms,​ ​the​ ​architecture​ ​is​ ​the​ ​object​ ​and​ ​its memories​ ​are​ ​the​ ​parameters​ ​influencing​ ​its​ ​manipulation​ ​in​ ​the​ ​objectile.​ ​An​ ​explored​ ​objectile renders​ ​every​ ​possible​ ​memory​​ ​based​ ​on​ ​the​ ​input​ ​parameters.​ ​This​ ​shows​ ​every​ ​possible memory​,​ ​and​ ​based​ ​on​ ​desired​ ​criteria,​ ​can​ ​lead​ ​designers​ ​to​ ​an​ ​effective​ ​solution​ ​quickly. Recognizing​ ​events​ ​as​ ​architecturally​ ​relevant​ ​is​ ​hardly​ ​groundbreaking.​ ​Bernard Tschumi’s​ ​work​ ​in​ ​Advertisements​ ​for​ ​Architecture,​ ​and​ ​The​ ​Manhattan​ ​Transcripts​ ​are

​ ​Mario​ ​Carpo,​ ​“Breaking​ ​the​ ​Curve,”​ ​Artforum​ ​International​,​ ​vol.​ ​6,​ ​pg.172.​ ​2014. ​ ​Mario​ ​Carpo,​ ​The​ ​Alphabet​ ​and​ ​the​ ​Algorithm​.​ ​MIT​ P ​ ress.​ ​2011.​ ​The​ ​objectile​ ​being​ ​every​ ​possible iteration​ ​from​ ​a​ ​known​ ​‘parent’​ ​object,​ ​based​ ​on​ ​a​ ​static​ ​set​ ​of​ ​variable​ ​parameters. 17 ​ ​Ibid. 15 16

thorough​ ​investigations​ ​in​ ​that​ ​effort.18​ ​They​ ​exemplify​ ​the​ ​importance​ ​of​ ​the​ ​time,​ ​of​ ​the​ ​people, and​ ​the​ ​influence​ ​of​ ​the​ ​architecture​ ​(​Figure​ ​03​).

Figure​ ​03​​ ​_​ ​Advertisements​ ​for​ ​Architecture,​ ​Bernard​ ​Tschumi.19

18 19

​ ​Bernard​ ​Tschumi.​ ​“Advertisements​ ​in​ ​Architecture,”​ ​Bernard​ ​Tschumi​ ​Architects​,​ ​1976-1977. ​ ​Ibid.

Figure​ ​04​​ ​_​ ​The​ ​Block,​ ​Bernard​ ​Tschumi’s​ ​MT04.20


​ ​Bernard​ ​Tschumi,​ ​The​ ​Manhattan​ ​Transcripts​.​ ​Academy​ ​Editions.​ ​1994.

There​ ​are​ ​many​ ​layers​ ​of​ ​memory​.​ ​They​ ​are​ ​difficult​ ​to​ ​quantify​ ​because​ ​they​ ​hold different​ ​values​ ​for​ ​different​ ​groups.​ ​These​ ​values​ ​exist​ ​simultaneously​ ​for​ ​the​ ​same​ ​entities.​ ​The architectural​ ​memory​​ ​must​ ​account​ ​for​ ​all​ ​perspectives—it​ ​cannot​ ​decide​ ​on​ ​a​ ​single​ ​set​ ​of biological​ ​memories.​ ​Designers​ ​must​ ​realize​ ​they​ ​are​ ​creating​ ​not​ ​just​ ​a​ ​mere​ ​object,​ ​but​ ​a​ ​site for​ ​a​ ​collection​ ​of​ ​memories—a​ ​collection​ ​of​ ​sections​ ​of​ ​an​ ​object.​ ​In​ ​the​ ​contemporary​ ​urban setting​ ​architecture​ ​is​ ​populating​ ​an​ ​intense​ ​field​ ​of​ ​interrelated​ ​components,​ ​each​ ​with​ ​a​ ​unique set​ ​of​ ​parameters​ ​justifying​ ​their​ ​existence.21​ ​The​ ​quality​ ​of​ ​each​ ​object​ ​in​ ​the​ ​field​ ​varies, affecting​ ​the​ ​intensity​ ​of​ ​the​ ​memory​.​ ​The​ ​memories​ ​of​ ​adjacent​ ​architectures​ ​affect​ ​one​ ​another. Each​ ​instance​ ​of​ ​architecture​ ​could​ ​exist​ ​independently,​ ​but​ ​could​ ​not​ ​have​ ​been​ ​created independently. Program​ ​in​ ​architecture​ ​changes​ ​constantly.​ ​A​ ​residence​ ​can​ ​become​ ​a​ ​crime​ ​scene,​ ​a sports​ ​arena​ ​can​ ​become​ ​emergency​ ​shelter,​ ​a​ ​park​ ​can​ ​become​ ​a​ ​protest.​ ​These​ ​events​ ​are temporary​ ​unplanned​ ​(in​ ​contrast​ ​to​ ​Corbusier)​ ​shifts​ ​in​ ​the​ ​architecture,​ ​and​ ​are​ ​part​ ​of​ ​its collective​ ​memory​.​ ​The​ ​French​ ​Revolution,​ ​Vietnam​ ​War​ ​protests,​ ​ ​Tiananmen​ ​Square,​ ​Occupy Wall​ ​Street,​ ​or​ ​the​ ​Umbrella​ ​Revolution​ ​were​ ​all​ ​temporary​ ​changes​ ​in​ ​static​ ​space​ ​which​ ​the space​ ​itself​ ​experiences,​ ​grows​ ​from,​ ​decays​ ​from,​ ​and​ ​changes​ ​from.​ ​Periods​ ​of​ ​increased​ ​stress on​ ​architecture​ ​at​ ​a​ ​regional​ ​scale,​ ​pushed​ ​forward​ ​by​ ​increased​ ​occupancy.​ ​Equal​ ​in​ ​importance, but​ ​opposite​ ​in​ ​intensity,​ ​are​ ​the​ ​micro-programmatic​ ​changes.​ ​Unscripted​ ​actions​ ​in​ ​a​ ​scripted programmatic​ ​environment​ ​are​ ​inevitable.​ ​An​ ​office​ ​is​ ​not​ ​built​ ​for​ ​work;​ ​an​ ​office​ ​is​ ​built​ ​for workers.​ ​The​ ​workers​ ​work,​ ​but​ ​they​ ​also​ ​relax,​ ​socialize,​ ​and​ ​procrastinate.​ ​In​ ​one​ ​moment​ ​a cubicle​ ​is​ ​a​ ​workspace​ ​(productive),​ ​and​ ​the​ ​next​ ​it​ ​is​ ​fitness​ ​(stretching),​ ​then​ ​back​ ​to​ ​a


​ ​Stan​ ​Allen,​ ​“From​ ​Object​ ​to​ ​Field,”​ ​Architectural​ ​Design​,​ ​1997.

workspace​ ​(productive).​ ​The​ ​program​ ​changes​ ​constantly,​ ​from​ ​moment​ ​to​ ​moment.​ ​The architect​ ​did​ ​not​ ​design​ ​the​ ​office​ ​for​ ​procrastination,​ ​but​ ​the​ ​building​ ​experiences​ ​it​ ​regardless. These​ ​moments​ ​are​ ​not​ ​always​ ​considered​ ​when​ ​designing​ ​buildings…​ ​but​ ​they​ ​could​ ​be.​ ​The architect’s​ ​tools​ ​can​ ​describe​ ​these​ ​moments​ ​(​Figure​ ​05​).

Figure​ ​05​​ ​_​ ​The​ ​section​ ​freezes​ ​a​ ​moment,​ ​making​ ​a​ ​spatial​ ​memory.​ ​Kowloon​ ​Walled​ ​City​ ​and​ ​its​ ​various programs.​ ​

But​ ​why​ ​use​ ​a​ ​section?​ ​Why​ ​not​ ​use​ ​a​ ​plan?​ ​According​ ​to​ ​Le​ ​Corbusier,​ ​architecture’s​ ​sensation is​ ​derived​ ​from​ ​its​ ​organization—control​ ​develops​ ​experience,​ ​therefore​ ​control​ ​develops memory​.​ ​He​ ​advocates​ ​for​ ​the​ ​plan: “The Plan is the generator. Without a plan, you have lack of order, and wilfulness [​sic​]. The Plan holds in itself the essence of sensation. The great problems of to-morrow [​sic​], dictated by collective necessities, put the question of “plan” in a new form. Modern life demands, and is waiting for, a new kind of plan both for the house and for the city.” 22

​ ​Le​ ​Corbusier,​ ​Towards​ ​a​ ​New​ ​Architecture​.​ ​Dover​ ​Publications,​ ​1985.​ ​Specifically​ ​referencing​ ​his advocation​ ​for​ ​modern​ ​architecture​ ​as​ ​a​ ​style​ ​independent​ ​of​ ​site​ ​context,​ ​or​ ​architecture​ ​as​ ​a universalism.


In​ ​his​ ​vision,​ ​the​ ​architectural​ ​memory​​ ​is​ ​not​ ​contextual,​ ​but​ ​universal.​ ​It​ ​can​ ​exist wherever​ ​the​ ​designer​ ​decides.​ ​This​ ​is​ ​contrary​ ​to​ ​the​ ​aforementioned​ ​concept​ ​of​ ​memory​​ ​and​ ​its infinitely​ ​unique​ ​contextual​ ​ties​ ​to​ ​site,​ ​people,​ ​and​ ​events.​ ​Corbusier​ ​was​ ​not​ ​the​ ​only​ ​one​ ​to think​ ​this​ ​way. There​ ​are​ ​many​ ​instances​ ​where​ ​future​ ​memories​ ​are​ ​used​ ​to​ ​influence​ ​the present.​ ​Kenzo​ ​Tange’s​ ​master​ ​plan​ ​for​ ​Tokyo​ ​Bay,​ ​Archigram’s​ ​Plug-In​ ​City,​ ​and​ ​Le Corbusier’s​ ​Ville​ ​Radieuse​ ​are​ ​attempts​ ​to​ ​ignore​ ​the​ ​past​ ​in​ ​an​ ​effort​ ​to​ ​improve​ ​the​ ​future. Wildly​ ​ambitious​ ​urban​ ​schemes​ ​interested​ ​in​ ​pursuing​ ​an​ ​assumed​ ​but​ ​unknown​ ​goal.23​ ​It​ ​is​ ​a curious​ ​result,​ ​then,​ ​that​ ​unrealized​ ​architecture​ ​has​ ​a​ ​memory​​ ​as​ ​well.​ ​These​ ​experiments attempt​ ​to​ ​develop​ ​non-contextual​ ​urban-scale​ ​applications​ ​for​ ​architecture.​ ​Their​ ​origins however​ ​are​ ​the​ ​result​ ​of​ ​those​ ​same​ ​contextual​ ​markers​ ​that​ ​when​ ​evaluated​ ​fully,​ ​describe​ ​all built​ ​architecture.​ ​The​ ​political​ ​climate,​ ​social​ ​movements,​ ​and​ ​urban​ ​requirements​ ​are​ ​the parameters​ ​guiding​ ​the​ ​memory​—they​ ​are​ ​the​ ​parameters​ ​of​ ​the​ ​objectile.


​ ​Ibid.

Figure​ ​06​ ​_​ ​Corbusier’s​ ​visual​ ​example​ ​for​ ​why​ ​the​ ​plan​ ​is​ ​the​ ​best​ ​tool​ ​for​ ​organizing​ ​space.24

Architectural​ ​memory​​ ​must​ ​not​ ​be​ ​dismissed.​ ​The​ ​predictable​ ​repeatability​ ​in​ ​today’s built​ ​environment​ ​is​ ​creating​ ​a​ ​material​ ​and​ ​spatial​ ​agnosia25.​ ​Material​ ​qualities​ ​become​ ​ignored; architectural​ ​elements​ ​become​ ​expected,​ ​ ​solidified,​ ​commercialized,​ ​and​ ​defining.​ ​The​ ​lighting,

​ ​Ibid. ​ ​Agnosia:​ ​A​ ​loss​ ​in​ ​an​ ​individual’s​ ​ability​ ​to​ ​process​ ​sensory​ ​information,​ ​resulting​ ​in​ ​inability​ ​to recognize​ ​sound,​ ​smells,​ ​people,​ ​objects,​ ​or​ ​places​ ​despite​ ​there​ ​being​ ​no​ ​damage​ ​to​ ​the​ ​sensory​ ​organs or​ ​memory​ ​centers.​ ​In​ ​this​ ​context,​ ​redundancy​ ​and​ ​predictability​ ​are

24 25

fire-safety,​ ​and​ ​HVAC​ ​define​ ​a​ ​space​ ​more​ ​than​ ​architecture​ ​of​ ​late.26​ ​There​ ​begins​ ​to​ ​be​ ​a disconnection​ ​between​ ​what​ ​space​ ​was​ ​and​ ​what​ ​space​ ​is,​ ​which​ ​will​ ​lead​ ​us​ ​to​ ​not​ ​know​ ​what space​ ​will​ ​be.​ ​Biological​ ​memory​​ ​has​ ​an​ ​inherent​ ​connection​ ​to​ ​the​ ​past—it​ ​is​ ​simply​ ​a​ ​record​ ​of earlier​ ​conditions​ ​(spatial,​ ​emotional,​ ​etc).​ ​However​ ​this​ ​amassed​ ​memory​​ ​is​ ​only​ ​useful​ ​if​ ​it​ ​is actually​ ​used​ ​to​ ​evaluate​ ​the​ ​present​ ​and​ ​envision​ ​the​ ​future,​ ​predicting​ ​multiple​ ​possibilities​ ​for the​ ​architecture,​ ​which​ ​reciprocally​ ​generate​ ​the​ ​architectural​ ​memory​. Returning​ ​to​ ​Corbusier,​ ​his​ ​prediction​ ​of​ ​the​ ​future​ ​relied​ ​almost​ ​completely​ ​on​ ​the​ ​plan. His​ v​ ision​ ​for​ ​Ville​ ​Radieuse​ ​was​ ​a​ ​plan,​ ​which​ ​ignored​ ​the​ ​experiential​ ​qualities​ ​of​ ​the​ ​space​ ​he was​ ​so​ ​intent​ ​on​ ​crafting.​ ​Even​ ​in​ ​Towards​ ​a​ ​New​ ​Architecture​,​ ​we​ ​can​ ​see​ ​Corbusier​ ​advocating for​ ​the​ ​plan,​ ​describing​ ​its​ ​usefulness,​ ​while​ ​using​ ​a​ ​section​ ​to​ ​visualize​ ​it27.​ ​The​ ​fact​ ​that​ ​even such​ ​an​ ​avid​ ​advocate​ ​of​ ​the​ ​plan​ ​must​ ​employ​ ​a​ ​section​ ​to​ ​make​ ​his​ ​plan​ ​useful​ ​shows​ ​that​ ​the section​ ​is​ ​a​ ​more​ ​relevant,​ ​productive​ ​tool​ ​to​ ​architectural​ ​memory​.​ ​The​ ​section​ ​is​ ​the​ ​relevant tool​ ​because​ ​the​ ​section​ ​is​ ​a​ ​temporal​ ​tool. The​ ​section​ ​describes​ ​intangible​ ​experience​ ​through​ ​breaking​ ​physical​ ​boundaries.​ ​If​ ​the architecture​ ​is​ ​physical,​ ​then​ ​its​ ​memory​​ ​is​ ​temporal—intangible​ ​but​ ​still​ ​existing.​ ​The​ ​memory in​ ​buildings​ ​can​ ​inform​ ​the​ ​future.​ ​We​ ​can​ ​learn​ ​from​ ​them—which​ ​conditions​ ​were​ ​productive and​ ​what​ ​prompted​ ​stagnation,​ ​identify​ ​tyranny​ ​and​ ​predict​ ​benevolence—using​ ​the​ ​same​ ​tools as​ ​predicting​ ​the​ ​weather.28​ ​It​ ​is​ ​important​ ​to​ ​understand​ ​that​ ​memory​​ ​fades—it​ ​loses​ ​clarity​ ​the longer​ ​it​ ​goes​ ​without​ ​retrieval.​ ​Architectural​ ​memory​​ ​is​ ​no​ ​different.​ ​It​ ​must​ ​be​ ​recorded. Architecture​ ​must​ ​not​ ​continue​ ​down​ ​its​ ​road​ ​of​ ​self-inflicted​ ​dementia.​ ​Memory​​ ​is​ ​recorded

​ ​Rem​ ​Koolhaas,​ ​“Junkspace,”​ ​Quodlibet​.​ ​2006. ​ ​Le​ ​Corbusier,​ ​Towards​ ​a​ ​New​ ​Architecture​.​ ​Dover​ ​Publications,​ ​1985. 28 ​ ​Mario​ ​Carpo,​ ​“Breaking​ ​the​ ​Curve,”​ ​Artforum​ ​International​,​ ​vol.​ ​6,​ ​pg.172.​ ​2014. 26 27

casually​ ​as​ ​it​ ​is​ ​experienced,​ ​but​ ​must​ ​be​ ​remembered​ ​with​ ​discipline.​ ​Memory​​ ​implies sequence,​ ​but​ ​does​ ​not​ ​define​ ​it. The​ ​collective​ ​experience​ ​that​ ​architecture​ ​records​ ​becomes​ ​more​ ​valuable​ ​than​ ​any architecture​ ​the​ ​designer​ ​could​ ​have​ ​intentionally​ ​made—not​ ​only​ ​do​ ​we​ ​learn​ ​what​ ​material, form,​ ​and​ ​spatial​ ​conditions​ ​produce,​ ​but​ ​the​ ​potential​ ​interaction,​ ​program​ ​change,​ ​societal reaction​ ​to,​ ​and​ ​usage​ ​of​ ​architecture.​ ​It​ ​is​ ​the​ ​flexibility​ ​of​ ​architecture​ ​that​ ​creates​ ​its ephemerality.​ ​For​ ​instance:​ ​a​ ​designer​ ​builds​ ​a​ ​bank,​ ​but​ ​it​ ​becomes​ ​a​ ​loft,​ ​and​ ​also​ ​a​ ​gallery,​ ​and also​ ​a​ ​fitness​ ​center.​ ​The​ ​architecture​ ​has​ ​grown.​ ​It​ ​has​ ​assumed​ ​new​ ​responsibility,​ ​served​ ​new occupants,​ ​and​ ​undergone​ ​material​ ​change—what​ ​would​ ​happen​ ​if​ ​the​ ​designer​ ​intentionally designed​ ​a​ ​building​ ​capable​ ​of​ ​satisfying​ ​all​ ​programs​ ​simultaneously?​ ​Does​ ​the​ ​architecture​ ​fail to​ ​satisfy​ ​the​ ​needs​ ​of​ ​one?​ ​Do​ ​the​ ​market​ ​forces​ ​drive​ ​the​ ​program​ ​to​ ​whatever​ ​generates​ ​the largest​ ​margin?​ ​We​ ​must​ ​recognize​ ​the​ ​designers​ ​role​ ​in​ ​architecture​ ​is​ ​limited,​ ​but​ ​profound. The​ ​designer​ ​must​ ​see​ ​the​ ​future​ ​a​ ​hundred​ ​times​ ​before​ ​acting​ ​in​ ​the​ ​present.​ ​The​ ​designer​ ​must recognize​ ​that​ ​the​ ​building​ ​will​ ​grow​ ​and​ ​learn.​ ​The​ ​designer​ ​must​ ​remember:​ ​“One​ ​who​ ​cannot remember​ ​can​ ​hardly​ ​imagine​ ​because​ ​memory​​ ​is​ ​the​ ​soil​ ​of​ ​the​ ​imagination.”29


​ ​Marc​ ​Trieb,​ ​Spatial​ ​Recall:​ ​Memory​ ​in​ ​architecture​ ​and​ ​landscape”​.​ ​Routledge,​ ​2009.

References Allen,​ ​Stan,​ ​“From​ ​Object​ ​to​ ​Field”​ ​Architectural​ ​Design​ ​(AD)​,​ ​vol.​ ​67.​ ​Pg.​ ​24-31.​ ​May-June 1997. Carpo,​ ​Mario.​ ​The​ ​Alphabet​ ​and​ ​the​ ​Algorithm​.​ ​Writing​ ​Architecture.​ ​Cambridge,​ ​Mass.:​ ​MIT Press,​ ​2011. Carpo,​ ​Mario.​ ​"Breaking​ ​the​ ​Curve."​ ​Artforum​ ​International​ ​52,​ ​no.​ ​6​ ​(2014):​ ​169-170,172-173. Corbusier,​ ​Le.​ ​Towards​ ​a​ ​New​ ​Architecture​.​ ​Dover​ ​Publications,​ ​1985. DeLanda,​ ​Manuel.​ ​Assemblage​ ​Theory​.​ ​Edinburgh:​ ​Edinburgh​ ​University​ ​Press,​ ​2016. Foer,​ ​Joshua.​ ​Moonwalking​ ​with​ ​Einstein:​ ​The​ ​Art​ ​and​ ​Science​ ​of​ ​Remembering​ ​Everything​. Penguin​ ​Books,​ ​London:​ ​Allen​ ​Lane,​ ​2011. *Hill,​ ​Jonathan.​ ​Architecture—the​ ​subject​ ​is​ ​matter​.​ ​New​ ​York,​ ​Routledge.​ ​2001.

“Architects​ ​are​ ​caught​ ​in​ ​a​ ​vicious​ c​ ircle;​ ​in​ ​order​ ​to​ ​defend​ ​their​ ​idea​ ​of​ ​architecture​ ​they​ ​often​ ​adopt practices,​ ​forms​ ​and​ ​materials​ ​already​ ​identified​ ​with​ ​the​ ​work​ ​of​ ​architects.​ ​Traditionally,​ ​architectural matter​ ​is​ ​understood​ ​to​ ​be​ ​the​ ​physical​ ​substance​ ​of​ ​buildings,​ ​and​ ​architects​ ​employ​ ​a​ ​limited​ ​palette​ ​of materials​ ​such​ ​as​ ​steel,​ ​glass,​ ​brick​ ​and​ ​concrete.” “There​ ​are​ ​now​ ​many​ ​architectures​ ​This​ ​book​ ​acknowledges​ ​architecture​ ​far​ ​beyond​ ​the​ ​familiar​ ​boundaries of​ ​the​ ​discipline​ ​and​ ​reassesses​ ​the​ ​object​ ​at​ ​its​ ​center:​ ​the​ ​building.​ ​Architectural​ ​matter​ ​is​ ​not​ ​always physical​ ​or​ ​building​ ​fabric.​ ​It​ ​is​ ​whatever​ ​architecture​ ​is​ ​made​ ​of,​ ​whether​ ​words,​ ​bricks,​ ​blood​ ​cells, sounds​ ​or​ ​pixels.​”

Libeskind,​ ​Daniel.​ ​“We​ ​musn’t​ ​forget​ ​the​ ​emotional​ ​impact​ ​of​ ​the​ ​buildings​ ​around​ ​us,”​ ​CNN Style.​ ​July​ ​20,​ ​2017.​ h​ ttp:// Koolhaas,​ ​Rem.​ ​“Junkspace,”​ ​Quodlibet​,​ ​Italy.​ ​2006. Rossi,​ ​Aldo.​ ​The​ ​Architecture​ ​of​ ​the​ ​City​.​ ​Cambridge,​ ​Mass.:​ ​MIT​ ​Press.​ ​1984. Saieh,​ ​Nico.​ ​"Multiplicity​ ​and​ ​Memory:​ ​Talking​ ​About​ ​Architecture​ ​with​ ​Peter​ ​Zumthor." ArchDaily.​ ​November​ ​02,​ ​2010.

Treib,​ ​Marc.​ ​Spatial​ ​Recall:​ ​Memory​ ​in​ ​architecture​ ​and​ ​landscape​.​ ​New​ ​York,​ ​Routledge. 2009. Tschumi,​ ​Bernard.​ ​“Advertisements​ ​for​ ​Architecture.”​ ​Bernard​ ​Tschumi​ ​Architects​,​ ​1976-1977, Tschumi,​ ​Bernard.​ ​The​ ​Manhattan​ ​Transcripts​.​ ​New​ ​ed.​ ​Academy​ ​Editions,​ ​London​ ​:​ ​New York,​ ​N.Y.​ ​1994. Walker,​ ​Enrique.​ ​"Scaffolding."​ ​Log,​ ​no.​ ​31​ ​(2014):​ ​59-61. Zumthor,​ ​Peter.​ ​Thinking​ ​Architecture​.​ ​Birkhäuser​ ​Architecture.​ ​3rd​ ​edition.​ ​June​ ​2010.

morphing typology A.rep // 502a // assignment 12

c3 tower

g1 monument

c2 office

c1 warehouse

r1 residential

morphing typology B.rep // 502a // assignment 12

USC SoA Architecture Portfolio  

5 year undergraduate portfolio for the USC School of Architecture

USC SoA Architecture Portfolio  

5 year undergraduate portfolio for the USC School of Architecture