Jordan Crowder

SELECTED WORKS 2024

openings

ABOUT

Jordan Crowder is a Canadian writer, artist and architectural designer based out of the greater Toronto area.

Jordan holds a Masters of Architecture from the University of Waterloo - School of Architecture, a Bachelors of Science in Architecture from Lawrence Technological University - College of Architecture and Design, and an Advanced Diploma in Architectural Technology from Sheridan College, all with distinction; also holding five years of professional practice experience in architecture and design offices in Canada.

His research and design interests focus on the intersection between architecture, representation and modern science. More philosophically the role of architecture in our post-modern condition; specifically the loss of architecture and subsequent being in cities today. His work and research expand outside this portfolio through his photography, writing and readings. Design and telling stories for him are inseparable.

Thank you for reading.

ACADEMIC

SPINE

(PG: 08)

LIVING TO GROW

(PG: 16)

REPLANTING THE CITY

(PG: 28) (PG: 36)

INSIDE OUTSIDE

THESIS

(PG: 50)

PROFESSIONAL

IBI GROUP (ARCADIS)

(PG: 68)

RAW DESIGN

(PG: 72)

PHOTOGRAPHY WORKS

(PG: 78)

SPINE

Time Course

Advisor Skill Set

Duration

Fall 2017

ARC3116 Integrated Design 3

Steven Schneeman

AutoCAD, Adobe Photoshop, SketchUp, and Laser cutting 10 weeks

Looking at architecture and tectonics through the lens of material, process, and construction. I have processed this information in an explorative and speculative manner that questions the connections and relationship of the parts to the whole.

Tectonics

“activity of making the material requisite construction that answers certain needs, but rather to the activity that raises this construction to an art form.”

Structure/Light

Building design informed by the structure, delineated by the sun path. Focus on structure based on environmental factors, shifting the architectural design narration from a program/ client perspective to a conceptual narrative.

May the light carve into our souls

Giving life to space

May the spine hold us all together

Giving strength

The human spine, an intricate yet essential axis, not only holds our bodies upright but orchestrates the delicate balance between stability and motion. It is a conduit for circulation, a network through which life flows. In the architectural realm, this spine metaphor transcends the corporeal. The spine becomes the architectural scaffold, not just as structure, but as a dynamic force allowing for circulation— of light, movement, and connection.

In this design, the goal was to manifest a system that transcends mere utility, invoking movement, transition, and passage, where light and bodies traverse seamlessly through space. The structure invites the sun to carve its pathways, allowing it to sculpt the building’s form as it streams through openings. By mapping the sun’s journey, the building’s layers are punctuated by light, shaping the rhythm and layout of each floor.

These spines, more than singular backbones, become multiple, intersecting lines of energy—each a passage, each a conduit for light and movement. They redefine the experience of space, creating an organism where structure and circulation are one. The floor openings become not mere voids but expressions of the building’s intimate relationship with the sun’s trajectory. The shifting columns, aligned with celestial data, guide the light into even the most recessed spaces, allowing for

each level to take on its own unique form and purpose, guided by this interaction.

In essence, this architecture is a choreography of light and matter, where the interplay of sun and structure echoes the spine’s essential role in the body—a delicate balance of strength, flexibility, and movement.

Axonometric

Transverse Section

Longitudinal Section

1/8” Iteration 1

1/8” Iteration 2

1/8” Iteration 3

1/8” Iteration 4

LIVING TO GROW

Time Course Advisor

Skill Set Duration

Winter 2019

ARC4126 Comprehensive Design

Alexander Briseno

Rhino, AutoCAD, Revit, 3DS

Max, V-Ray, Adobe Illustrator and Photoshop

Semester-long

The proposal reimagines the vacant site of the New York Terra Cotta Works as an urban threshold, linking the community to the waterfront and park. This space is not simply a connection but a reawakening of the site’s forgotten layers, where the boundaries between city, water, and nature dissolve. The design emphasizes movement—views and pathways that draw people toward the waterfront, encouraging engagement with the landscape. It promotes active life while recalling the vernacular of the past, offering a space that is both resilient and attuned to the rhythms of the natural world.

Comprehensive Design

The comprehensive design project engages deeply with the site’s historical context, environmental conditions, and global culture. Set on a long, narrow parcel, the design emphasizes views and access toward the

waterfront promenade, transforming the space into a place of vitality and life. Strict setbacks and form limitations shape the building’s facade and height, making these elements essential in asserting its identity as a wellness center—an active hub for learning, movement, and community. The project integrates sustainability, structural systems, and spatial order, responding to the need for accessibility and life safety while fostering connection and belonging.

Connecting the Community

Located in Long Beach, Queens, this project envisions a midrise, mixed-use complex with affordable housing, a community wellness center, and an early childhood education facility, all connected by a public waterfront space. The current site lacks cohesion, with underutilized spaces and inefficient public resources, dividing the community.

The goal is to transform this vacant waterfront into a model of biophilic, healthy urban living. Panels, glass, and structural components are composed to express openness and connection, while elevating the buildings ensures privacy, public access, and uninterrupted views across the site toward Manhattan.

Vernon Blvd

Vertical branches elevate the program 72’, allowing for new projections below, adjacent views to coexist and a unique introduction to the land usage solutions.

Hung facade as an extended language of the branched columns. Terracotta usage ties back to the vernacular site elements.

Plan design considers ease of use, way-finding simplicity, clear circulation, separation of public/ private and priority for views and safety.

Phylogenetic inspired facade, as facade is an extension of the building, as branches are the extension of the tree.

The design allows for additional typologies to function on the ground plane, fully allowing the green-space to act as a connection between the waterfront and street edge.

Running track suspended one level, providing an immersive experience within the green density below.

Lightwells allow for natural light into each programmatic space, function as the interior playgrounds, and enable a clear visual connection, important for a daycare facility.

Roof as outdoor play area, contrasts the interior playground(s) below. Provides nature in a protected environment and retains private views for the daycare users.

Formal design of the Wellness Center was to elevate the programs into the sky, translating views to a new language, and maintaining those of the existing adjacent uses, while interlacing nature throughout each space and back into the site. Lifting the building allows for full park access, privacy where needed, separation between public and private and unobstructed views across the site towards Manhattan. The lifted programs allow for an inseparable site experience, bridging the waterfront to the street edge. The suspended track creates a more intimate experience within nature, as users run through a forest while enjoying views of the waterfront. Structure is expressed along the interior and facade, blurring the boundary of inside and out, while guiding users through the space.

Design of the Early Childhood Education Center focuses on privacy, safety, and integration of site. Situated along the south setback, the structure is pulled back from the main site corridor and is elevated one level to limit views and interaction from the public. Interior Playgrounds function as both lightwells and allow for daycare residents to exist in nature, while in a protected environment. The terracotta walls branch from the site and enclose the entrances from three directions. The parametric waffle slab structure starts as an extension of the earth below into the program itself, and secures the inhabitants inside. Together, the functions became private but intimate, protected but not isolated.

Elevation (Wellness Center)

Elevation (Early Childhood Education Center)

Level 5 (Track)

Level 7

Level 8

Level 9

Below Grade (Auditorium)

(Interior Playground)

REPLANTING THE CITY

Time

Course Advisor

Skill Set

Duration

Winter 2022

ARCH690 Urban Design

Studio

Lola Sheppard

Rhino, AutoCAD, Lumion, Enscape, Adobe Illustrator and Photoshop

Semester-long

The conception of “replanting the city” comes out of a lost history of the land, an exploitation of natural forest resources, and a call to return to its roots before urbanization. Where nature will not take back itself, rather reintegrate into the urban fabric.

Located in the northeast part of China. Yichun, the once thriving timber town, one of the forest cities, is left decaying, where government actions led to improper land management and poor planning strategies. Human retreat from the region has severely influenced how the space has lost its touch and depopulated over the years, currently decaying and rotting as we speak. Existing residents are left to make use of all that is, either choosing to enjoy the decline or doing the most to leave everything behind and move elsewhere for a more prosperous and equitable life. This project promotes degrowth by fostering sustainable building and living practices within the context

of community and culture. The master plan features two key elements: a science and research hub and a food and culture hub, connected through planting strategies and supported by Yichun’s tourism industry.

Hot-pot as parti

“Hot-pot” as base of programme and design stems from the existing Chinese culture and history within Yichun and beyond. The parti extends to the site programme, design and social fabric of the proposal. The procedure of learning and making, together help elevate the existing typology and building functions.

Questioning Degrowth

This project rethinks sustainable design through a degrowth framework, focusing on social inclusion over technology and industrialization. While traditional degrowth pushes for shrinking and scaling back, this proposal takes a more passive approach, giving back to both the land and the people as they diverge. It emphasizes slowing down and making the best of the inevitable, fostering a balanced relationship between growth and the environment.

photo(s) courtesy of Ronghui Chen

Yichun documented

Phase 1 (1-20 years)

1/4th of trees planted.

Science and research hub is built. Food and culture hubs are planned. Planting begins.

Replanting the city

Phase 2 (15-35 years) 1/2 of trees planted.

Food and culture hubs complete and in full operation.

Through strategies rooted in replanting and green growth, we aim to revive Yichun by focusing on its natural assets and cultural heritage. The development framework transitions the city away from its logging past, tapping into the underutilized tourist infrastructure, especially during the long winters. This uneasy transition makes Yichun a classic case of de-urbanization in China.

Phase 3 (30-50 years)

3/4 of trees planted.

Phase 4 (45-65 years)

4/4 of trees planted.

Planting overlap and integration takes place within science and research hub. Large scale planting stops, management and research continue.

The master plan is divided into smaller blocks, creating urban and forest hubs that serve as seeds of new growth. These hubs connect the city to the forest and locals to tourists. The urban hub introduces food and culture, while the science and research hub focuses on forest growth and future planning for Yichun. Both hubs remain in close contact with nature, ensuring sustainable development that prioritizes the wellbeing of inhabitants, even as the city shrinks.

This program mix reconnects distant tourists with the city core and provides opportunities for locals affected by depopulation and unemployment. The tree replanting strategy fosters a healthy exchange between land and forest, reshaping the city landscape. The inclusion of learning, environmental, social, and recreational programs will help extend the life of the city and its residents.

The replanting framework unfolds over four phases across 65 years, reflecting Yichun’s projected lifespan.

1:100 Chunk Model

sharing story around a fire

INSIDE OUTSIDE

Time

Course Advisor

Skill Set

Duration

Fall 2021

ARCH691 Comprehensive

Design Studio

Val Rynnimieri

Rhino, Revit, 3DSMax, Lumion, Adobe Illustrator and Photoshop

Semester-long

During the pandemic, we collectively lost touch with nature, the outside world, and each other. Healthy lifestyles were compromised as we inhabited environments that accelerated our decline, both physically and digitally. Ironically, little has changed. This project seeks to synchronize healing with land and building, merging inside and outside. The pandemic has negatively impacted mental and physical health, compounding struggles many already faced, with no relief in sight. Understanding how architecture affects mental health, physical well-being, and human connection drives my ideas across spatial and temporal scales. While the proposal addresses long-term COVID-19 patients, it also speaks to the broader need for healthier indoor/outdoor environments. Although most were not directly exposed to the virus’s suffering, we all faced lockdowns, social distancing, and a life reduced to simulations—a state of being too alive to die yet too dead to live.

Return to the real

A bringing in of natural ventilation, light and greenspace within proximity of the footprint boundary. The goal is to help reconnect to what the human body and psyche needs and begs for. To not detach us from our external surroundings in our tower and cybernetic blocks, from each other per se, rather heal the soul and reintegrate back into society, while creating a new dimension to escape and retreat.

Form through programme

A nest that explores what transforms a house into a home; like a birds nest that connects directly with nature. A shell, like one in nature that hides and withdraws towards in security before preparing a way back out into the peripheral; a providing of motion within an organic enclosure in preparation for a new home. The home, that central place which calls us back to our first human universe we always remain connected to; the womb. It reminds us of our past, present and future, integrating our thoughts and memories, leaving an indelible mark on us.

The window has lost its significance as a mediator between two worlds, between enclosed and open, interiority and exteriority, private and public, shadow and light.

Luis Barragan

stack, program: residential + rec + clinic

split extrusions based on program grouping and prioritized factors

connect and introduce circulation pathwats

push/pull faces based on coverage, site setback, sun exposure and privacy

open facade, wall and roof, forge inside/outside motif

Located in the Galt core of Cambridge, Ontario, the site has a close relationship with the Grand River and the downtown fabric of trades and services. The 36m x 70m block sits parallel to Trinity Park, surrounded by religious, residential, and small business programs. It is publicly accessible both visually and physically. The building design reflects this openness, acting as a shell for healing—a new approach to health and well-being, especially crucial in a time when much of the built environment has been rendered ineffective.

BlairRd

GrandAveN

GrandRiver

GrandAveN

GrandRiver

BlairRd

Below: North-east axonometric

Above: South-west axonometric

the light points towards home

south sectional perspective

16’5m 5” N

roof assembly

tio-coat white membrane coating

coverboard

thermal: .2m epss rigid insulation, air and vapor-barrier membrane

substrate: structural sheathing

vented air cavity

uv-stable, vapor permeable roof

underlayment and moisture protection

structure: .036m (x5 ply) CLT slab

5ply CLT beam (250x450mm)

radiant floor heating/tubing

ERV hvac system

sprinkler and electrical lines

floor assembly

finish: .012m terazzo tile

substrate: . 03m cement plaster aggregate

thermal: .04m epss impact rigid insulation

barrier: blueskin adhesive waterproofing

membrane

structure: .036m (x5 ply) CLT slab

acoustic plaster ceiling lightwell

floor assembly

finish: .012mm terazzo tile

substrate: .03m cement plaster aggregate

structure: 160mm reinforced concrete slab

thermal: .5m rockwool rigid insulation

.1m gravel subdrainage layer

350mm x 350mm CLT column

double skin facade system

kawneer storefront wall system

i. exterior wall @ roof

ii. exterior wall @ second level slab

iii. guardrail @ mezzanine

iv. exterior wall @ grade

slow dancing in the dark

BEING ON THE EDGE OF MEANING

Time

Course

Supervisor

Duration

Result

The Server

The server metaphor and physical bind ourselves city. A fulfilling behind socially to one

The erosion of the body, the other, and the tangible world now permeate all facets of contemporary existence, extending beyond the confines of a debilitating disease—a mode of non-existence until death. We are separating ourselves from the human condition, encapsulated within a server; we are no longer present, instead existing in a palliative state where information proliferates, yet being diminishes. Servers, both physical and digital, become central to our existence, embodying non-real forms that collapse into one another, displacing both the real and us with it. Our existence becomes inauthentic, with no alternative to exist outside of it. Without presence in the server, one does not exist at all. Man is enslaved in this state, celebrated as progress erasing him from the picture, until there is no longer a picture to erase. Instead, a virtue signaling for more control, sedated from a disease that is life, until disappearing entirely. Greater anesthesia is induced, keeping him in a coma, only to need more. When an individual is presented with his own condition and a series of unavoidable losses, he is compelled to ask and reflect – to fight an incurable condition; one akin to the server that alienates one from the body, the other and reality. Man however finds himself searching for meaning in a world devoid of it. To embrace one’s pain and suffering where the other has removed it entirely; here one brings man towards death and the other hides it away, both however pull towards disability. This frustration, born from

the desire for freedom only to be constrained by his condition, signifies a descent into non-being, lacking both a functioning body and, potentially, mind. Conversely, a mode of existence the world too becomes, that a collective complies towards. For man however, falling into both results in a double disappearance. The condition, while physically and mentally debilitating, serves as an opportunity to confront more clearly the realities of life and death, independent from the server’s palliation of it. The server’s nature offers an escape to realms beyond, liberated from a hyperreal and disabled existence. The rooftop, both metaphorically and physically, connects to reality, offering a liminal vantage to reflect on the essence of being one is increasingly pulled away from. Here, man transcends the body’s limitations, the notion of access, and the reality of disability. He surpasses the server’s digital and physical confines and his condition, reconnecting with the remnants of the real world and its corporeal existence. The rooftop clarifies his condition and the underlying loss of being. Although man’s fate remains inescapable, this distancing from non-existence rekindles his freedom to that when he was a child, while drawing him as close to heaven as possible, so that when death does occur, he is already there. In this realm, man falls in love with being in the very places he should not.

An auto-ethnography structures the writing and runs through the thesis. The first chapter begins with a story, set years ago and in-between the total timeline of the narrative. It starts in 2020, during a crisis of meaning, a premonition for later crises explored in the text—a calling into greater existential questions. Locked down and in a state of non-being, the body felt reduced, and so too did the built world and the being that follows. Living under monotony and non-movement, perpetually behind a screen and distanced from the physical and the other. Like a disability. Frustrated and unsatisfied, I sought to be “free” again, to feel the body, create something meaningful, and see the world. That outlet became something I had long set aside, something I promised I wouldn’t ignore—this something was the roof. Climbing again became an act of resistance and a search for meaning, not knowing it would re-emerge years later, driven by a new state of being, this time real disability.

The writing introduces themes for the following chapters, the next being on the birth and death of meaning: the birth of self and the death of my father, days apart. My first encounter with death from the start of life, alongside a diagnosis of a possibly life-threatening, inherited disease. This condition ultimately shapes the writing and gives life meaning, even as it takes it away.

The story moves to my earliest memories of the city and the machine, my relationship with the city tied to hospitals and MRIs— machines that encroach on our being. Not just the MRI, but all modes of servers we now “inhabit,” placing us in states of disability. One childhood memory beyond the hospital was of the towers, what I now call servers, standing around me. I questioned their use, the lives inside, and what lay on top: the roof. This story reconnects years later when, as an adult, I returned to rooftops, now not just as a patient, but as a worker, exploring alone. My childhood curiosity followed me into my passions for architecture and photography, and soon I found myself on the roof of St. Michael’s Hospital.

The rooftop became a new means of creation, a way to see the world, a dimension that compressed time, dreamlike. At first, it taught me about the city and representation, but later, it taught me about myself. A lifeline I would unknowingly return to years later, confronting what most never will, others trapped in blind conformity, stuck in the cave. If there’s one key left, this is it. Every roof becomes the last.

The rooftop brought clarity to my condition. Knowing time is short, having already lost so much, I return here to live out what’s left—a child rewatching his favorite VHS before it can play no more. Here, I rewind.

The story fast-forwards to 2021, still in lockdown, still in non-being, but now disconnected from the roof. In the same place as a year prior, unsatisfied and gripped by a crisis of meaning, I went for a run— rebelling against non-movement and imposed disability. The act was short-lived, ending in a fall, mobility stints, and a string of doctor’s appointments. Symptoms, dormant all my life, now emerged, triggering an anxiety of decline.

The months leading up to the thesis marked the writing’s gradual intertwining with my condition. Writing about loss paralleled the loss of myself—an outlet for voice and body that brought context to my research. In Fall 2022, I received an official diagnosis. While the world outside returned to normal, my personal world began closing in—a permanent lockdown. This realization forced me into deeper existential questions. I sought to understand the body and its limits while confronting my future. A confrontation with a fate I could neither avoid nor fully prepare for. Mourning for former selves, like lost objects I can never reclaim.

Once again, I returned to the roof—both for thesis research and as one of the few things I could still do, resisting my biologically determined fate. While the rooftop aided my research, I hadn’t yet fully connected it to my condition. I didn’t grasp the speed or severity of my decline, only that I had to act while I still could. To save myself. To

embrace the decline. To keep the child alive, the child who too shares disability.

I wrestled with the reality of necessary loss and the unattainable goals I had set. Experiencing metaphorical deaths, I reflected on my body, my existence, and my fears of fading away like my father, leaving my mother alone. Fear settled in.

As I continued writing, I found meaning through suffering—not suffering from a lack of meaning, but suffering well. My life, my writing, everything, filtered through this new lens. What began as nothing evolved into a collapse, both outside and within. Once more, I stood on the roof, this time in perfect alignment with my condition and writing. On the edge of a cold, icy night, I saw the city—its servers towering around me. These servers, once merely mechanistic structures, now mirrored our postmodern existence, both physical and digital, imprisoning us within simulated realities. The server, more than a technological entity, became a metaphor for our current state of existence. Meaningless, constructed to serve itself, not humanity—a simulated existence without a body.

The concluding chapters delve into the role of death, both personal and collective, that the server seeks to erase and forget.

The server is explored in relation to humanity, the body, and being. The text begins with my present state during thesis research in 2023, starting with the loss of meaning— personally and collectively—both tied to disability, one imposed, the other chosen. It reflects on my condition a year after diagnosis, two years since the fall, and 28 years since birth. No longer moving the same. The world becomes a limitation, less real as sensations fade. The body disconnects from the world, which becomes less real through the server. Once confined by lockdowns, the body is now limited by a condition. Similarly, man faces losses tied to the server, forgetting the body, freedom, and humanity.

The pandemic ignited this loss, made permanent by the server. Though the pandemic has passed, the body remains behind a screen, avoiding pain and suffering. We’ve grown weak, sheltering in cells, avoiding shadows. We conform to survive in a system where thoughts are limited to the simulated self. We become disabled, not by injury, but by surrendering the body for comfort and simulation.

In this palliative society, life becomes meaningless. Like disability, our intangible existence relies on machines, erasing the self. We spend more time inside, disconnected from the real world. As we dwell in virtual realities, the body is neglected, and our sense of solidity

fades. Disability and digitalization hasten this shift. When one can’t use their body in the real world, they too become disabled.

I identify the simulations dominating our existence, where life is contained in digital formats, severing connections with the tangible world. This creates uncertainty, where not existing online means not existing at all. Architecture mimics the server, “existing” online to validate its presence. The city becomes a spectacle—a mall, a stage, a digital panopticon. We exist behind screens, interacting only through digital exteriors.

Architecture doesn’t exist until it is hyperreal—seen and shared online, often before being built. Its digital presence outweighs its physical form, creating an illusion. Architecture, like our devices, offers only simulacra. Both are servers.

The chapters reflect on the role of “architecture” today and its impact on society and the body. Hypotheses suggest a future where servers blend, differentiated only by digital footprints. A world where architecture is projected through phones or headsets, with no need to leave one’s space. In this world, fully contained in the server, existence is questioned, and the writing suggests ways to revolt against it.

CHAPTER 3: THE SERVER

Through a series of rooftop recollections, I connect rooftopping to escaping the server; a response to the loss of meaning, with the rooftop only emerging through architectural and technological meaninglessness. The chapters juxtapose our hyper-modern condition: flattened experience, lost connection to nature, and the inability to reach the cosmos. Rooftopping offers a contrast, allowing one to find an urban cosmos and confront the sublime beneath the server.

The rooftop becomes an act of reaching what’s left of the real. It transcends disability—both my condition and the server’s imposition—allowing me to briefly break free. It marks the city’s elevated spaces that are no longer accessible, the once-natural spaces now beyond reach. The peak of the panopticon offers a view of all but is seen by none. In a landscape where horizontal space diminishes and horizons are obscured, the rooftop remains the last point for vantage. The city’s noise falls away, replaced by distant hums and the sound of my breath, offering introspection and perspective on one’s place in the urban environment.

The rooftop challenges conventional access and ability. As abilities fade—balance lost, movement restricted—one becomes stuck on a single plane of existence, isolated among abled bodies, increasingly separated and living online. This mirrors the effects of the server: what use is there to explore a world no longer

accessible? The child recognizes neither. Of all the things I can no longer do, the roof remains paradoxically inaccessible yet fleetingly accessible. It feels like the last thing I can do, despite being what I shouldn’t. It serves as a revolt against both disability and the server. It’s all that’s left.

Here, transcending disability is possible through a delicate dance with the server— both relying on and discarding it. The rooftop exists outside the server’s realm, where I embrace what I’m still capable of, until my abilities decline further. Choosing to rooftop challenges the boundaries of disability.

The rooftop takes me beyond my condition and the server. Atop it, I taste fleeting freedom, a space where I exist freely, if only briefly.

This illicit freedom, where freedom is found only through transgression, becomes a revolt against the system.

The child plays with his toy once more before it’s taken away, unsure of what comes next. For now, enjoying what’s left.

CHAPTER 4: SELF-TRANSCENDENCE (THE ROOF)

To fall back in love with being. A collection of essays; all that pair back to essential modes of being either taken for granted or forgotten in the presence of the server, the digital and the physical. From the functioning of the legs as a means of transportation and fundamental encounter with the world to the function of the eyes; eyes that are always screened, detached from the body. One today walks without the eyes, one walks with the server, one stares at screens instead of the physical world around them, a world too implanted by screens. One is in a sense back inside of a metaphorical “cave”, always behind a wall.

The essays serve as another response to this very hyper-modern condition and disembodied mode of existence. The essays provide neither suggestion nor solution, rather extensions and a personal trace back to my own set of losses which I aim to transcend. Here one goes for a stroll - one more time, before I can walk no more. Here one slows down; a body that is forced into slowing down as the world around accelerates. Here, one finds meaning in being offline in a mode of existence that must always be online. Here, one closes the eyes. One takes control of vision as a reaction to a world dominated by visual stimuli. Closing the eyes goes beyond the literal act of shutting one’s eyelids; it’s about turning away, recognizing the constructed projections, and stepping out of the cave. Here, one lives in a more authentic form to be remembered, living with awareness

of mortality that better shapes actions today and directly influences ones said legacy. To not deny death, to move towards and with it. To grow with death by its side and get as close to it as possible, so when death smiles at me all I can do is smile back. To live more mindfully and gain a sense of legacy; to not fall into digital obsolescence. Seeing our death occurs twice, first by the loss of our physical and bodily presence and second by the memories of our actions - so to live in a way that deepens our being and our given immortality projects, makes it so that when death does occur, it does not strike as any kind of calamity.

Lastly, a final climb; that which was left on my bucket-list, a list realized and made meaningful. Here, a final climb.

It was profoundly freeing.

In addition to the thesis submission and defense, I chose to curate a piece of my work in a gallery space as a means of sharing a part of my efforts and themes within my research. The name of the gallery is titled: THE CITY IS A SERVER. I wanted others to understand and feel my work not by text behind a screen but as close to my lived experience as possible, to better grasp my voice and ability, my condition behind it all that motivates my being, and more collectively, the server that we both share, the server that encompasses both of our modern existences. The server that too pulls towards disability, that erases us, both dimensions of it, and how I transcend it. I wanted to show my perspectives on the condition of urban life and said architecture in the city, or server rather, in a different way - one that we are beyond recognizing as we consume and are trapped in all of it.

Here, not below the surface or behind a screen, but completely on top of it. Every piece in the gallery works at showing different experiences I’ve had and allows me to speak even when I am not there. As we increasingly “inhabit” and “dwell” in both the real and the hyperreal, or the digital for some that has become more real than reality itself, instead preceding and determining it; in the limited time and space available I wanted to show that the digital and the physical boundaries of being, the lines between reality and simulation, have become irrevocably blurred. We are not only stuck

inside of machines, servers we hold with our hands, but also the city - the city that is as much a server as the other.

IBI GROUP (ARCADIS)

RAW DESIGN

PHOTOGRAPHY WORKS

Selected Archive Architecture http://memory-haven.com/

My interest in photography and urban exploring stems back to 2013. I remember craving the ability to sit on the edge of a skyscraper, witness the city exposed, silenced, framed, yet open. A way to converse with the buildings and environment face to face, from one roof to another. The adrenaline rush, the thrill and near-death moments held together through images and shared with my closest of friends. The experience of space and architecture at heights most never will. We build skyscrapers that the average person only touches at the pedestrian scale, that only some live through behind a glassed in fixed view cell which they deem their home, yet always stay on the same channel architecturally. Our world is to be explored in it’s full entirety.

With that said, I don’t want to limit myself to a single type of photography or design. I believe there’s beauty in everything, the question is on one’s ability to take the time to grasp and capture these fleeting moments within our very finite existence. Everything I do is for myself first and foremost and as a way to document my experiences.

The mood I’m in and the emotions I want to express are an amplifier and motivator to take photos. I want my photos to speak to me of a specific time, place, event and experience.

A way to playback what has passed and allow the memories to live a second longer. I capture to trace back later what I felt, to hold still, what I remembered, the emotions, the intensity, the heaviness, the vehemence in the nostalgia. A way to trigger my memory.