AAVS
project [vic]toria 2022

- Introduce assigned Project Brief - The Room - Initial Refrences (Victoria, and Fiction) - Early narrative ideation - Fragments and worldbuilding - Early room composition
- Scene re-composition
- Lighting inspirations & composition
- Colour & density
- Photography & lens depth
- The final project
- A speculative world, and the not-sodistant future
THE PROJECT:
Carbon Equivalencies serves as a fundamental exploration of principles of Speculative Fiction, a storytelling genre that exaggerates and re-contextualises, among others, cultural and technological trajectories of our present lives, envisioning them into a future setting. Set in 2050 Victoria, we were tasked with producing a speculative interior space. We assumed the role of a production designer in digital space, where all choices, from colour, texture and spatial arrangement, to the minute details of clothing, packaging, and food, imply a broader world—a setting outside the room’s boundary. To inform our decision making, we looked to film and cinematography refrences, from classic to neo-noir sci-fi, to anachronistic speculative fiction.
In developing our prompt, we looked to current trends of environmental activism and the evolving nature of finance, as evidenced by the rise of Cryptocurrencies and NFTs. In exaggerating these trends, we ultimately posed the question, “what if, in 2050, carbon emissions were currency?” To convey this concept, we employed 3D modelling and realtime rendering software, to produce a high-density rendered image and three-dimensional animation of an interior scene—our room of choice, a shared inner-city apartment.
As opposed to an architectural scheme which would propose an optimal way of living, Carbon Equivalencies is a project featuring an array of conscious design decisions to illustrate a futuristic Victoria where carbon emissions are systematically tracked, and people have more incentive than ever to cohabitate as a household’s carbon-credit score defines wealth as much as its financial status.
In response to a heating climate, Victoria’s urban centers are shrinking.
At the edges of Melbourne’s urban sprawl, the once spreading tendrils of new development are being abandoned in favor of a more densely packed, locally focused urban strategy. Essential goods, food products, waste management, are all managed at much smaller scales. People travel less, and local variations in culture and produce have become far more pronounced and specific.
The shrinking city edge becomes a site for ecological regeneration and the rewilding of local flora and fauna. The impact of individuals on the environment is tracked through systems like carbon credits, that act as currencies to incentivize low impact/regenerative behaviors.
“The architecture of the set is really driven by economic factors... We figured out what [the characters] could afford and what part of town they would live in first.” and “An important element of the set’s realism quotient is its clutter and evidence of everyday life.” - Michael Whetstone and Jane Shirkes, set designers for FOX’s New Girl (Miller, 2014)
Despite it’s repetitive, generic, and unimpressive features, this particular structure, a public housing tower, has become somewhat of a landmark in regards to its size; towering over its low-rise neighbours.
It drew particular attention during the covid-19 outbreak, as its residents were placed in “hard lockdown,” forbidding them from leaving the property at all. (Weedon, 2020)
QUERY: What challenges could a high-density living paradigm present? How would our residents occupy their space in a way that would be most convenient and functional for them?
Interior snapshot of a refurbished Melbournian terrace house. The linearity of the living space we considered could inform the spatial arrangement of the apartment; an architectural choice, made while we were still leaning toward architectural design to develop our proposal.
CHOICE: A linear/corridor apartment, as opposed to an apartment “cut” in a multitude of sections to showcase different rooms, could serve well to illustrate Victoria
STRATEGY/APPLICABILITY: While the linearity was implemented well, the allusion to the Victorian terrace house was not exceedingly present—to the degree that we ourselves omitted mention of this item arrangement strategy.
In The Matrix, we are introduced into Neo’s room very early in the film; the hacker’s apartment overflowing with electronics and other paraphinalia, from coffee that has been there for who knows how long, to a number of CDs and Floppy Disks lying around, and the blatant fire-hazard that is his cable arrangement.
There is an initial understanding of Neo’s desire for escapism. His space is detached from any semblance of care or warmth, the space lit by a single fluorescent ceiling lamp. One could assume that Neo is focused solely on how to make his workspace setup most functional.
While it is unclear what the world is beyond Neo’s walls, it is heavily implied that it’s not one worth living in.
On the opposite end of the soloapartment owner, we have Owen Milgrim’s room from Maniac. White dominates the scene, and all his items are organised in the neatest, most inoffensive way possible. The most striking element is the neon ‘OralB’ sign, as through a single detail, we know advertising is rampant in what must undoubtedly be a consumer-led society. Unlike Neo, Owen appears happy to comply with his bland, chronically-ambiguous reality—rather, as we learn that he suffers from schitzophrenic hallucinations, Owen could be considered someone who *chases* reality.
Later in the series, we are presented with an image of the same apartment, where Owen houses his medical hallucination-induced family of about eight. The apartment overflows with colour, the excess of items drown the space, and the hanging hammocks showcase the lack of bedrooms (or beds, for that matter).
EVENT: Shift Change
SETTING: End of Semester, one Moving in, one Moving out.
PEOPLE:
The Protagonist: The inhabitant whose living status has not changed.
The Artist: Moved out right after the exam period concluded. Took great joy in painting on the bathroom tiles to disguise the cracked tiles and faded grout. The Musician: Moving in. Messy, slow-moving, overwhelmingly present.
“A rummaged suitcase lies on the floor. Its contents spill out—from black stockings and a pleated skirt to cheap jewelry and trinkets—lying alongside an electric guitar case. An unacceptable condition. Floor space in the apartment is a commodity of the most valuable kind. Cardboard boxes, packed, unpacked, and flattened alike fill up what looks like every nook and cranny of the already claustrophobic apartment. A soft snore and Chocobo’s methodical pecking at her chicken feed gently fill up the room, momentarily drowned out by the screech of a tram running up and down the apartment boundary.
Printed sheets are forgotten in the printer tray, a used post note with big messy writing stuck on a computer monitor that’s been left on—the green light bathes a leftover slice of vegetarian pizza, making it look even more unappealing; a difficult task to fulfill regarding a food item left unrefrigerated for three days. Books are presented in the display cabinet, in alphabetical order— almost like an artwork itself. Some of the editions would be considered rare at a time where physical prints were not rare in themselves.
The shower wall is still damp with water droplets, and on the tiled floor, soap suds have pooled up next to a bottle of men’s 3-in-1 shampoo. Old paint persists on the wall; each cracked tile has been meticulously painted over, adorned with flowers and ducklings. However, unlike old smocks lying on the dining chairs, no paint or brushes were forgotten behind.”
In characterizing the scene and developing worldbuilding, the “fragment” played a crucial role; each specific item was designed from scratch, from modelling to texture.
are combinatinos of twodimensional and three-dimensional designs, and each one’s existence would inform some part of the broader world, as found within the scale of the room.
Re-defining the triptych, this iteration depended on physical as opposed to implied boundary. The design was becoming less concerned with architectural program, and more concerned with composition; the location and differing spatial depth and height of each “heavy” item, as “boundary.”
The placement of furniture was initially very modest; we had concerns that furniture in the foreground or background would be too intense. The placement reinforced the triptych arrangement, but the composition was notably unbalanced, and, overall, lacking a foreground.
The placement of specific items in the scene served the purpose of creating a “foreground” but ended up being very right-side heavy. Initially, we had envisioned the left side to be filled with a plethora of character-specific paraphinalia, but that idea was scrapped. We had considered the varying depth of each item to be a good way to define foreground, midground, and background. This later became more prominant as the design developed further.
Offering ⅓ of a BED in a luxury, Low-Footprint apartment, starting July 2051. Currently occupied by a Male Daytime-Dweller our occupancy is a rare opportunity for any involved to Carbon Footprint Credit, the hydroponic vegetation system
Close to public transportation, with the nearest VertiTram compatible workspaces provided, we offer an unmissable Rent rates negotiable;
NOTE! Carbon-Point utilities Shared Equally by all Shift-Dwellers,
apartment, located at CBD, 3000. Looking for a Midday-Dweller student of any Gender, for a Semester-long lease Daytime-Dweller and Female Nighttime-Dweller—Law and Architecture students respectively—this opening in indulge in one of the most sustainable and productivity focused households in Melbourne. Optimising our system in our apartment bounds provides an excess of 30,000 Carbon-Points annually alone. VertiTram station located only two floors down, and a fully customisable desk available, with shared VR and AR unmissable opportunity for a fellow roomate. Pets are welcome, provided they do not pose a threat to our Chicken.
Shift-Dwellers, inclusive of Night-Dwelling rates.
The midsemester panel discussion centred mostly around implementing carbon credits and the human element, which we found very helpful as we were aware that they were the elements the project was sorely lacking in at this stage. Small details get picked apart quickly, and that was a wake-up call to divert our thinking from one of presenting an architectural scheme and more into one of creating a moment. Speaking of detail, I didn’t expect we would spend about half the review session on a chicken and its viability in this space. However, it made an excellent point in that in a small scheme such as this one, every choice is crucial, whimsical touches inclusive.
What was most striking, however, was how the spoken narrative framed the project’s tone in an unexpectedly profound way; the narrative deeply affected the receptiveness of the crit panel. Lily and I had been thinking of this scene more cynically, where the residents would “hack” the carbon credit system and create an optimised way of living that was oddly successful at rebuilding relationships with our fellow humans. However, the chosen narrative didn’t convey this to the panel, and, in retrospect, that should have been expected. In utilising a roommate ad, we were advertising the space; when creating our narrative, we emphasised the positives, the why this space would be desirable to live in, and that, alongside the cleanliness of the scene, we missed the mark as a narrative device.
Re-defining the triptych, this iteration depended on physical as opposed to implied boundary. The design was less concerned with program, and more concerned with composition; the differing spatial depth and height of each “heavy” item, as “boundary.”
The foreground-to-background discrepancy was much clearer in this iteration, and the image much more balanced.
Each space in the triptych features its own predominant organisational regime—gradually increasing in dishevelment from left to right.
This was an initial marker on defining character; we intended that the three areas contrast each other, in messiness and where possible design sensibility, yet still appear homogeneous as a home.
Jars, plates, food, shoes and clothes, all items as forms of specific characterisation. There is a form of “character bleed” starting to appear, where different characters leave aspects of their lives in others’ “areas.”
Additional fragments were later added in Unreal Engine in a similar fashion.
High Contrast, fluorescent lights, but with a warmer palette.
Strong futuristic minimal, blues and whites, with a touch of yellow.
Low-contrast day scene; this example presented an interesting dichotomy of a period-esque scene (persian rugs, hammock) with a futuristic twist.
The overall lighting sceme was what we would consider “classic neo-noir sci-fi,” with high-contrast scenes and futuristic neon and fluorescent lights, reminiscent of films such as Blade Runner and Minority Report, but with a warmer palette; a homely aesthetic. This drove us to some blues and whites, as a means of contrast, but also drew us strongly toward yellow, orange, and red.
Environments and back-lit scene; rain and atmosphere.
Backlit, ambient light; highlighting the urban environment as a background. The “neighbouring building” provided most of the illumination in this atmosphere, and was an interesting lighting technique
The urban context of the scene was clearest in this iteration.
Diffuse light, rainy ambience, still maintaining a backlit quality. The background is distorted, yet still legible.
The background distortion was a welcome accident, as it allowed the interior to be the focus, while still contextualising the room.
The softest, warmest and most inviting iteration, depending less on interior lights to illuminate the scene.
This however posed an issue in creating a highcontrast scene, where everything would begin to be evenly-lit.
A balance between the backlit and highexposure light qualities of the night and day scenes respectively, we chose to proceed with the rainy scene.
The weather also established a level of warmth and cosiness in the interior.
As to showcase the “neo-noir scifi” aesthetic, many of the fragment designs included selfilluminating elements. We included some additional visible light sources in the scene, mostly from light fittings, as to also showcase this aesthetic in the apartment’s design.
Emissive visible light from visible sources was the first step to building up lighting in the scene; we can see said sources, hence they *must* emit light.
Some areas were still lacking in illumination however, promting a 2nd layer of lighting.
In addition to the visible light sources, there are also a number of light fixtures in the scene that *could* emit light. As the workbench and living area were still very dark, we chose to have additional lights emit from said sources.
Colour in our scene also served as a narrative device; a symbol of character ownership. By colour-coding, we begin to reveal the existence of three distinct individuals in this space. This was particularly crucial considering the generic nature of some items, but also to correspond them with other known elements. E.g: the pink shoes, red shoes, and red bed, likely belong to the owner of the also red/orange guitar.
For some residents, this relationship was more clearly established than in others.
Coupled with the implied understanding of colour assigned to character, the items in the scene were positioned in ways that revealed three distinct organisational paradigms, each practiced by a resident. Creating a sense of dissonant homogeneity was a key driver to the project’s worldbuilding—the apartment is arranged in a way that contrasts three ways of life, and would make the viewer question, what prompted these three opposing characters to live together?
[focal length at 8mm]
While it captured the most elements from the scene, this distance deeply distorted a number of elements, and sent the composition further back, losing the foreground element.
[focal length at 12mm] BALANCED.
[focal length at 20mm]
At this distance, the image had lost almost all its dimensionality; the foreground-midgroundbackground relationship we tried to develop in scene organisation had almost dissapeared.
Currently, sustainability calculations is associated with carbon offset, based upon the amount of emissions that activities or goods produce. In a carbon-currency future, the level of emissions offset, or carbon-positive behaviours, would determine a household’s carbon score—a systematically tracked rate. A household’s carbon score would be able to determine their access to services and goods, much like a current-day credit score.
By envisaging what it’s like to live in a system where each home is responsible for redeeming the carbon emission they have produced, the project presents a snapshot of an highrise apartment, shared by three distinct housemates. In a carbon currency future, a shared home of people from different socioeconomic backgrounds is something we consider likely; a symbiotic relationship between low-income low-carbon spending, and high-income, high-carbon spending people.
This project presents one such speculative household, showcasing an apartment located on the 58th floor of 312 Collins street. It is home to three housemates; low-income architecture student Stella, who outsources the house’s financial needs, from rent to house bills and council rates, to professional chef Blair, and internationally-successful musician Rin. In return, her low carbon spending and active emissions management strategies allow the others a carbon spending they would otherwise be able to afford. A balancing between the trio act as a means of financial well-being.
As a society, our sensibilities toward climate activism as a fossil-fueled Victoria are growing, and the nature of currency is rapidly changing—from what seems to be the inevitable obsolescence of physical money to the seemingly out-of-nowhere developing value of digital token ownership. It is not unreasonable to think of the future as an amalgamation of the two trends.
Carbon Equivalencies, through its speculative image, aims to ask: is this future a desirable one? Considering the discourse around financial and class inequalities, is this vision perhaps fueled by a desire to quantify goods and services not in money but in the more equitable quantifiers of lifestyle choices and environmentally ethical behaviours? Could carbon emission currencies become a proxy as a response to this phenomenon? Would it be worth it if it meant an environmentally sustainable future? Or is this an inevitability, an extrapolative vision, drawing from the current climate of increased stock market dealings, the rise of cryptocurrency and NFTs, and ever-growing climate change activism?
In true speculative fiction fashion, is Carbon Equivalencies not-so-extreme a speculation than we may envision it to be?
Astbury, J. (2019, Aug 23). Matt Gibson extends Melbourne terrace with glazed kitchen undercroft. dezeen. https:// www.dezeen.com/2019/08/23/north-melbourne-terrace-matt-gibson-melbourne-architecture/
Fukunaga, C.J., (Director & Executive Producer), & Sommerville, P. (Creator & Executive Producer). (2019). Maniac [Miniseries]. Netflix.
Miller, J. (2014, Sep 30). New Girl’s Los Angeles Loft Set Design. Architectural Digest. https://www. architecturaldigest.com/gallery/new-girl-fox-set-design-slideshow
Wachowski, L., & Wachowski, L. (Directors). (1999). The Matrix [Film]. Warner Brothers.
Weedon, A. (2020, Jul 9). Melbourne’s public housing coronavirus lockdown tells a story of two cities. ABC News. https://www.abc.net.au/news/2020-07-09/flemington-north-melbourne-public-housing-lockdown-twocities/12431898