KĂ…RK #36 aarch kadk
The anthropocentric world view suggests that the human being is the center of the world and has greater value than other species. A result of this attitude is that nonhuman species are a potential resource to be exploited. This has, historically, meant degradation and even extinction of other species. But what is beyond anthropocentrism? How do we proceed in the technological revolution? And how can we from an architectural point of view explore the posthuman condition? As architecture students we try to imagine what isnâ€™t already there but what will come. We use our imagination to create new solutions. But how do we create for the future? With the theme posthuman we wish to unfold the various comprehensions and interpretations of the term. KĂ…RK is a collaborative magazine by architecture students from Aarhus School of Architecture and the Royal Danish Academy of Fine Arts. Each issue explores a different theme. Through the reflections of academics, we aim to gain knowledge and understanding of the chosen theme and insight into the projects made by students at the two institutions.
Happy reading! On behalf of the editorial team, Kaisa Hjorth Kristensen Jens Rudolf Ugelstad Dzifa Bravie Mia Christina Forslund
Middagen som intervention
Testament of the Last Human
Sesam 2020 Poliklinika
Karoline Bonde Larsen
Juan Cruz, University of Buenos Aires
Ida Leonhardt Jespersen, AARCH
Linguistics and architecture: a re-review
Notes from Honjima
Joshua Nash, Aarhus University
Ada Zalecka, KADK
Mathilde Møll Helms, AARCH
Ashkan Rezaee, AARCH
Inhabiting the roof Archipelago
The Digital Sublime
Sigrún Perla Gísladóttir
Ditte Horsbøl Sørensen, AARCH
Linn Johansson, AARCH
Notes on: surviving the fittest
Terrazzo Surface Machining Toya Causse, AARCH 12
Materialer 2. year, IBT, KADK 20
Bibliotek Faxe Peter Grue, KADK 24
Uddrag fra en virkelighed Uddrag fra et bachelorprojekt Asger Højlund Olsen, KADK 28
Lucia Pells, AARCH
Hannah Keagan, AARCH
Siloen: On the Verge of Demolition
3D Printing Workshop: Computation in Architecture
Tankestuen, AARCH Alberte Klysner Steffensen Frida Nielsine Bommenskjold Thomsen 66
Illustrations Rosa Prichard 70
Gabriella Rossi, KADK 94
A Stranger in a Foreign Land Rune Wriedt, AARCH 97
Nature Joanna Foxley, KADK 98
Time Witness: an architectural adaptation to new climate conditions Johanne Marie Skalle, KADK 104
Et Rituelt Samlingssted Sofie Højgaard, KADK 114
Connections: Establishing an Architecture of Interrelations Sean Lyon, AARCH 118
A Place for Exposing Darkness Mads Juul Krogshede Stine Dines Schmidt, AARCH 127
Sailing into Grenå Huiru Huang, AARCH 135
Hershey Fishing Pavilion Kristian Knorr, AARCH 142
Værket Signe Bay Bøgh Larsen, KADK 149
MIDDAGEN SOM EN INTERVENTION Text: Karoline Bonde Larsen, Unit 1B, og Ida Leonhardt Jespersen, Unit 1C, AARCH Illustrations: Unit 1A and 1B, AARCH
På Unit 1A og 1B studieåret 2019-20 er der blevet arbejdet med begrebet intervention. En intervention forstås som et indgreb, hvor man enten tilføjer eller fjerner noget. Indgrebet vil altid ændre på et rum, en tilstand eller en udvikling. I dette tilfælde tog interventionen udgangspunkt i en middag for 4-7 personer med fokus på ændringerne ved middagsbordet over tid. Opgaven havde til formål at belyse, hvordan noget så simpelt som en middag kan give os et indtryk af, hvordan mennesker fysisk bevæger sig, men også hvordan de interagerer med hinanden. Med inspiration fra arkitekten Sarah Wigglesworth’s projekt Increasing Disorder In A Dining Table blev de studerende bedt om at arrangere en middag, hvor der skulle tages højde for, hvordan bordene skulle placeres, hvordan hver enkelt studerende skulle forholde sig til resten af gruppen og koordinering af mad - dvs. både hvad der skulle spises, men også hvordan det skulle spises samt dokumentation af hele middagen. Under middagen blev de studerende bedt om at tegne den første middagstegning i frihånd, som skulle være en registrering af middagens indtryk samt bevægelserne ved bordet. Med udgangspunkt i interventionen skulle de oversætte den første middagstegning til en teknisk tegning. På baggrund af dette skulle de studerende med den tekniske tegning som underlag lave en tegning, der udfoldede interventionen over tid. Denne tegning skulle konstrueres ud fra en videodokumentation, de studerende var blevet bedt om at lave undervejs, samt deres egne erindringer og de givne informationer fra den tekniske tegning. På den måde konstruerede de studerende både et overblik, men også et nærstudie af deres middag. KÅRK
Illustration: Celina Camille Grabowski
Illustration opposite page: Sophie Bygballe Mikkelsen Illustration this page: Jonathan Klit Sørensen
Sarah Wigglesworth beskriver hendes projekt som en undersøgelse af, hvordan forholdet omkring et spisebord kan sammenlignes med samspillet mellem beboere i hjemmet. Med denne middag fik de studerende selv lov til at udføre projektet og fik undersøgt, om der er en sammenhæng mellem interaktion omkring et spisebord og den interaktion, der foregår på tegnesalen. Den måde, vi bevæger os på ved et spisebord, er bestemt af nogle forskellige faktorer. Disse faktorer kan f.eks. være, hvordan vi sidder, altså hvilke stole vi sidder på, eller hvem vi sidder til bords med: Er det nogle, man kender godt? Eller er det et menneske, man ikke har snakket med før? Sidder man omkring et rundt eller firkantet bord? Disse faktorer er afgørende for det bevægelsesmønster, vi har i lige netop denne sammenhæng med disse mennesker. Det samme gælder, når vi befinder os i bestemte rum. Bevæger man sig hurtigt, fordi det er et gennemgangsrum, eller stopper man op, fordi rummet tillader det og åbner sig op. Denne opgave belyser og giver indsigt i, at den måde vi mennesker bevæger os på, både ved et middagsbord, i et rum eller i verden, er bestemt af arkitektur.
Terrazzo Surface Machining Jonathan Foote, Associate Professor, MArch, PhD and Robert B Trempe Jr., Associate Professor, MArch Text: Toya Causse, Aarch Unit 2/3 E Photos: Toya Causse, Aarch Unit 2/3 E, Uyen Phuong Nguyen, Aarch 2/3 F
Digital fabrication is an important part of the education at the Aarhus School of Architecture. Every year the students explore the possibilities of digital fabrication through experimental workshops. The workshops strive to investigate the possibilities of architectural realisation at the intersection of materials and computational processes. Robotic Terrazzo Surface Machining was a workshop in collaboration with Dorte Mandrup Architects and Contec, supervised by Jonathan Foote and Robert B. Trempe Jr, with the intention of exploring the new possibilities of terrazzo as a material and of robotically machined terrazzo surfaces. Their current research project, Nordic marble, which investigates new possibilities in marble from Norway, Sweden and Greenland, inspired the course. The art of terrazzo was initially developed by the Roman builders. Chips of marble where combined with a cementitious material and then further polished and used for flooring. Terrazzo was an intelligent way of using otherwise useless pieces of marble, but it also provided a durable material with a unique aesthetical character. As architects we have a great responsibility to imagine new ways of creating sustainable architecture. By looking into ancient techniques one can inspire new solutions adapted to our current needs. As waste material from the building industry and the short life span of certain materials are a great challenge, terrazzo, with its potential as a modern resilient material, is worth investigating. Digital fabrication differs from traditional crafts as you design a workflow, rather than intuitively shaping your product using a personally acquired skill. It is interesting to see how the intersection between this approach to technique and the material shapes the character of the final result. The ABB Industrial Robot is a six axis robot which can be combined with a variety of tools. By programming its KĂ…RK
tooling path using Grasshopper, setting the engraving speed and using a specific diamond-tipped engraving tool, it lets you engrave the surface of the terrazzo slab. As with many new technologies, knowledge about the possibilities and limits of the manufacturing process can only be discovered through experimentation. Parameters such as speed, tool path and tool affect the outcome and the potential of the specific fabrication method. The purely experimental nature of the workshop pushed the limits of the ancient craft of terrazzo. We investigated the potential of terrazzo as a durable material to create modern sustainable architecture. We also reimagined what terrazzo could be made of, how it might be processed and how it can be used in architecture. In our experiments we were interested in examining how waste materials such as concrete could be used to make terrazzo. We focused on letting the intersection between the material and the technique dictate the character of the outcome. As terrazzo has its proper pattern we wanted to engrave a layer of depth and texture to the material. We imagined a homogenous pattern that would allow the material to emphasize its context by reflecting the sunlight or changing character when hit by rain. We have found terrazzo to be a material with great sustainable, aesthetical and practical potential.
Robotic Terrazzo Surface Machining I Graphic analysis. Investigation of the characteristics of terrazzo, through analysis of a given terrazzo panel. II Making terrazzo at Contec. Choosing aggregate, sand and cement. III Engraving strategy. Development of tooling strategy and programming in grasshopper. IV Engraving test in MDF. Understanding the intersection between the programming, technique and material. V Engraving the terrazzo. Three axis robot, 20 mm flat tool. VI Hand-finish. Improving the look of the engraved terrazzo using oil and wax.
Rethinking terazzo as a resilient material, where reuse of debris of concrete from demolition are given new purpose. Exploring the way machining can be used to develop the surface of the material.
collecting aggregate creating composition preparing the cast
Experimenting with robotic milling to add depth, texture and new attributes to the material.
ABB Industrial robot with a diamond-tipped engraving tool engraving the terrazzo.
Digital toolpath drawn in Grasshopper.
MATERIALER Institut for Bygningskunst og Teknologi, 2nd year, 5 week course
Modeller af bygningselementer udført af 2. års studerende på Kunstakademiets Arkitektskole KADK, i forbindelse med 5-ugerskurset MATERIALER efteråret 2019. På Kunstakademiets Arkitektskole KADK, indledes hvert semester på studiets Bachelor del med et obligatorisk 5-ugerskursus. Kurset Materialer er et af disse kurser. Antal studerende pr. kursus er ca. 160. Bachelorstudiet omfatter seks semestre inklusive et praktikophold.
Assemblager Materialer pulserer. De påvirkes stort set altid af ydre forhold som f.eks. klimaet. Man kan sige, at materialer opfører sig forskelligt, både i forhold til klima og i forhold til hinanden. Et bygningselement er på den måde altid i proces. Fra opbygning til nedbrydning.
Vi vælger at se byggeriets materialer i assemblagens lys. En assemblage er et begreb, vi har lånt fra billedkunsten. Assemblagen bringer eksisterende genstande sammen med en kunstnerisk intention
Bygningselementet kombinerer altså flere forskellige materialer under hensyntagen til deres måde at virke sammen på i selve elementet. Det sker også i forhold til en lang række fysiske egenskaber og udefra kommende parametre, fx i forhold til konstruktive forhold og klimatisk påvirkning,
på samme måde som et bygningselement bringer materialer og produkter sammen med en funktionel og arkitektonisk hensigt.
økonomi, æstetiske egenskaber, overfladeegenskaber som vedligeholdelseskrav, og ikke mindst bæredygtighed. Parametre, som naturligvis igen vurderes i forhold til overordnede arkitektoniske intentioner.
Bygningselementer set som assemblager De opgaver som de studerende arbejder med, fokuserer på bygningselementer som væggen, taget, vinduet og sokkelen eller fundamentet. Det er elementer, forstået som netop sammenhænge af materialer. I bygningselementet indgår materialer som produkter der skal fungere sammen. Det kan fx være stållægter, gipsplader, mineraluld, glasfibervæv og acrylplastmaling. Sammen skal materialerne i et givet bygningselement løse særlige problemer, dels materialerne imellem, dels mellem forskellige klimatiske påvirkninger eller miljømæssige forhold i øvrigt. Eller også mellem konstruktive og æstetiske krav. Som i en assemblage skal materialerne fungere både i forhold til hinanden og til omverdenen der iblandt det rum og de mennesker der bevæger sig i det.
Opgaverne Opdelt i grupper, har de studerende igennem kursets fem uger arbejdet med og undersøgt materialerne og deres samvirken i forhold til givne bygningselementer udvalgt fra 11 bygninger, som i årstal spænder fra et bindingsværkhus fra ca. 1740 til et parcelhus der knapt står færdigt. Hvert af de i alt 44 bygningselementer er undersøgt i modeller, tegninger, og skriftlige arbejder i form af datablade og analyser. Parallelt med gruppearbejdet har der hver formiddag været forelæsninger i bl.a. materialelære, tektonik, anvendt byggeteknik, statik og filosofi med bæredygtighed som et gennemgående tema.
BIBLIOTEK FAXE Peter Grue, Institutt for Bygningskunst og Kultur, KADK
Et Bibliotek på kanten af Faxe Kalkbrud som udover at være en lokal institution for dannelse, forsøger at vende byens fokus mod bruddet og åbne op for det storslåede landskab og dets betydning for byen. På sydsjælland ligger Danmarks måske mest spektakulære industrilandskab. Et enormt hul i jorden, som bare har vokset sig større i løbet af de seneste 900 år. Men brydningen af Faxe kalkbrud står til at blive reduceret, og spørgsmålet er hvad der venter Faxe Kalkbrud i fremtiden. Stedet har alleredet vist sig at have stor betydning for alverdens geologer, da det er en helt særlig koralkalk som brydes ved Faxe. Men mon ikke kalkbruddet også rummer et større kulturelt potentiale end det lever op til i dag.
Et bibliotek skal åbne verden op for lånerne. Men bibliotekerne har ikke længere monopol på viden og information, og derfor bliver deres rolle nu genovervejet. Et af bibliotekets store egenskaber er at det er stedsspecifikt. Det kan altså sige noget om lånerens position. Med en afgørende placering, som kan binde by og brud sammen forsøger projektet netop at fortælle noget om Faxe. Hvad det er og hvad det har været. Samtidig kan udsigten over de store, åbne vidder slet og ret skabe en højtidelighed for bibliotekets brugere. Bibliotekets indre rum placerer sig under jorden fra gadeplan. Kun rammestrukturen, som leder ned til bibliotekets samlinger, og bogtårnet blotter fra byens perspektiv. På den måde bliver biblioteket et plads i byen, en forlængelse af det nærliggende torv, og man undgår at afskærme kalkbruddet fra byen. Bibliotekspladsen bliver et udsigtspunkt over Faxe Kalkbrud, og bliver samtidig det sted, hvorfra der er adgang til det hvide kalklandskab.
UDDRAG FRA EN VIRKELIGHED - UDDRAG FRA ET BACHELORPROJEKT Skabelsen af en stemning Asger Højlund Olsen, Institut for Bygningskunst og Teknologi, 3rd year, KADK
Jagten på en stemning
”Everything you invent is true, of that you can be sure. Poetry is as precise as geometry, inductions is the equal of deduction, and then one finally reaches the point where one no longer errs in these matters of the soul.” Gustave Flaubert Historier om hvad der var engang, og historier om hvad der er i dag. Forestillinger, der på et tidspunkt bliver til virkelighed. Lige så langsomt som tiden kan gå, lige så hurtigt kan et fiktivt scenarie udvikle sig til en faktisk virkelighed. Projektionen af en fiktiv verden på en faktisk virkelighed bliver til dagligdag. Det er ikke til at sige, hvornår det begynder, eller hvornår det slutter. Historier fra Amager, fra villakvarteret omkring Skolen ved Sundet. Samtaler med kvarterets mangfoldighed, i et forsøg på at artikulere et steds specielle stemning. I jagten på en stemning, en hidtil ukendt stemning. Tiden skal bare have lov til at gå sin gang, give plads til at ideer fra en anden tid kan væves sammen med forestillinger om en ikke så fjern fremtid. Bogen begynder at skrive sig selv. Samtaler med tidligere tiders idéer formuleres og artikuleres på ny. Skolen ved Sundet Projektet tager udgangspunkt i den forestående tilbygning til Skolen ved Sundet. Den eksisterende hovedskole, to gymnastiksale, rektorbolig samt Friluftsskolen er alle tegnet af Kaj Gottlob i 1938. Skolen er sammensat af heterogene geometriske former, som er vævet sammen til et komplekst konglomerat af bygningskroppe. En pergola løber på tværs af hovedskolens udeområde og binder de opbrudte volumener KÅRK
sammen. Funktionalismens idéer har endvidere sat sit tydelige præg på hovedbygningens taktfaste facade, den bestemte orientering efter verdenshjørnerne samt forfølgelsen af idealet om at sikre lys og luft til byens børn. Men Skolen ved Sundet er så meget andet end et funktionalistisk hovedværk. En blandet skare af referencer fra fjerne dele af verden ligger spredt ud over skolens område; maurisk inspirerede vandfontæner i skolegården, en port i træ leder tankerne i retning af Japan, flisebelægninger som lyrisk svinger sig over skolegården i store bueslag og bløder den stramme logik op. Kompleksiteten og sammensatheden er allestedsnærværende, fra rumlige intentioner til valget af materialer og byggeteknik. Skiver af jernbeton opspænder hovedbygningens store vinduespartier med rammer i træ, mens liggesalen i Friluftsskolen lægger sin lette og lyse filigrankonstruktion i træ og stål forsigtigt oven på en tung støbt stueetage. Der er ikke én gennemgående tektonisk idé, i stedet er flere forskellige løsninger spredt ud over hele skolen.
PLAN_Fem nye bygninger erstatter fire temporære, udtjente bygninger. Et langt fritidshjem, et aparte udformet madhus, et højt og slankt værksted, naturfagslokaler med et mærkeligt ansigt og et musikhus, som er flyttet i skoven.
Man skal dog ikke tage fejl. Trods heterogeniteten er Skolen ved Sundet et yderst bevidst byggeri, som afspejler et mangfoldigt kvarter på en mangfoldig ø. Få minutter fra indre København, tæt på havet og ikke fjernt fra de to store fælleder samt en 200 år gammel skov, hvor kongen i sin tid havde et fasaneri. I zonen mellem storbyens møde med det gamle Amager opstår en kompleks blanding af det urbane og det provinsielle.
nemt at tage for meget for givet. Hvad der dog kan opleves negativt som en fragmentering og en mangel på kontekst kan dog også opleves positivt som en høj grad af kompleksitet, som en rigdom af fragmenter, som et væld af økologiske og sociale nicher, og som en subjektiv rumlig udvidelse ved ikke at have det store overblik på en gang. ”Et miljø af blivende kvalitet må aldrig komprimere sig selv til et billede. Ved hvert ny møde skal det i stedet danne en ny sky af billeder, som svæver ind og ud af hinanden”, skriver Thomas Sieverts i Zwischenstadt fra 1997. Ved at forstå historierne bag konteksten, forstås mulighederne for at tilknytte noget andet, som ændrer det eksisterendes tone også. En ny tilbygning skal generere en samtale med det eksisterende, ikke nødvendigvis tale det sprog, som var engang. Ved bare at tilpasse sig eller bygge videre på Skolen ved Sundets umiddelbare omgivelser, forstås der ikke nødvendigvis, at konteksten ikke altid har været der. Det ville tendere til at glorificere denne kontekst, at gøre den til en tidsløs konstant, som er fritaget for en reflekteret kritik.
Kontekstens genbesøgt Det er fragmenteret og blandet, forskelligartede typologier ligger side om side. Der er mange steder at kigge hen, nok at give sig hen til. ”Virkelighedens marmorering”, som Per Kirkeby kalder det i hans Syv tavler om Arkitektur. Det er på godt og ondt, og det er KÅRK
Tilbygninger til Skolen ved Sundet Skolen ved Sundet og kontekstens spraglede karakter giver mulighed for at tillægge et nyt bygværk en ny egenrådig logik. Stram og stringent, legesyg og løssluppen, i et dialektisk forhold. En klar orden, hvor fravigelser nærmere er reglen en undtagelsen. Bygninger kobler sig på og slår sig fra, men hele tiden i stram snor. Som karakterer, små og store personligheder, der fylder forskelligt. Som skal fylde forskelligt. To store haverum genforenes efter mange års adskillelse, den åbne græsplæne og det tættere beplantede haverum syd for den eksisterende hovedskole bindes på ny sammen. En brat opdeling erstattes af en flydende overgang, fortætninger af træer markerer overgangene fra et haverums tæthed og intensitet til det næste. Fra porten langs den eksisterende gymnastisksal i vest byder et nyt madhus elever og kvarterets beboere velkommen. Fra ankomsten ledes man straks ind på et nyt centralt gårdrum som omkranses af madhuset selv, det nye fritidshjem samt den eksisterende gymnastiksal, hvis retning forlænges af nye naturfagslokaler. Madhuset er sammensat af et halvt cirkelslag og en halv ellipse, trækker på mindelser fra hovedskolens aula, og giver kontrast til gymnastiksalens lige bagside i
samtidig frigives plads til, at de omkringliggende bygninger kan slå sig omkring den lange stang. På den bærende teglmur ligger en trækonstruktion, som bløder bygningen op ud mod det åbne, flade haverum. To centrale trapperum kobler sig på den lange teglgang, fordeler og forsamler, over flere niveauer og med diagonale kig. Rummene orienterer sig mod syd, nedgravet to trin foran den store åbne flade, som ligger frem for. Ud af vinduerne langs fritidshjemmets sydlige facade anes det nye musikhus, klemt inde mellem træerne. Igen folder en teglmur sig rundt, nu som en udstrakt oktagon. Muren bærer en høj trækonstruktion, som blander sig med trætoppene inden et højt placeret vinduesbånd lader ovenlys falde ind dagen lang. Musikhuset ligger isoleret i skoven, giver plads til fordybelse i et ellers intenst miljø. Tværs over den flade græsplæne ligger en høj, slank værkstedsbygning. Vinduerne sidder stringent og taktfast, en overdækning markerer et bredt indgangsparti. I forlængelse af det lange fritidshjem afslutter den høje slanke og elegante bygning det nye byggeri ud mod gaden. Præsenterer sig selv over for det omkringliggende kvarter, byder ind og siger farvel.
jernbeton. Den aparte form holdes i ave af en taktfast afrundet facade, der åbner sig op mod et tilspidset haverum. Haverummet er omkranset af en lang, tæt hæk på den ene side,og det nye fritidshjems rygrad på den anden. En 80 meter lang foldet teglgang udført som en bærende diafragmamur, der ligger i forlængelse af den eksisterende pergola. Rygraden fastholder en fast struktur videreført fra den eksisterende skole, og 32
Upper left hand picture: ANKOMSTEN Upper right hand picture: MÃ˜DET Lower left hand picture: GANGEN_den foldede gang Lower right hand picture: TRAPPERUMMET
Testament of the last Human Juan Cruz, University of Buenos Aires
Dear Post Human, As the last human on earth, itâ€™s my dearest will to leave you everything that humankind has ever created. Attached you will find a catalogue of images in which you will see a series of architecture and works of art - among other humanmade productions, which will help you understand a bit more of what you will see in the world. The images in this catalogue are examples of the result of six hundred thousand years of work, in which we - the humans - projected pieces of art as our interpretation of the world. During this period of time we made mistakes, but we learnt from them and we pushed ourselves to be even better. We knew this moment would eventually come, a moment in which we would have to hand over the world to you. So I hope, that you take this gift as your heritage and that it will help you to understand how humankind, who is now extinguished, has interpreted and represented the world. Best, The Last Human
Hollywood Sign Thomas Fisk Goff Los Angeles, USA 1923
Vitruvian man Leonardo Da Vinci 1490
Giza Pyramid Hemiunu Giza, Egypt 2560 bc
Barragan House Luis Barragan Ciudad de Mexico, Mexico 1948
Big Duck Martin Maurer New York, USA 1931
Villa ¨La Rotonda¨ Andrea Palladio Vicenza, Italy 1566
2001 Space Odyssey Stanley Kubrick New York, USA 1969
Nefertiti Tutmose Aketaton, Egypt 1345 bc
Ponte Vecchio Taddeo Gaddi Florence, Italy 1335
The Rape of Proserpina Gian Lorenzo Bernini Rome, Italy 1989
Time Square New York, USA 1904
Saint Maradona Buenos Aires, Argentina 1989
Corinthian Capital Calimaco (atribute to) -,Greece 400 bc
Cenotaph for Newton Etienne Boulee Paris, France 1795
Gioconda Leonarda Da Vinci 1503
Elevator Elisha Graves Otis Vermont, USA 1854
Kaaba Mecca, Saudi Arabia 630
Partenon Ictino, Calicrates & Fideas Atenas, Greece 447 bc
David Miguel Angel Buenarroti Capresse, Italy 1501
Cataldo Cementery Aldo Rossi Modena, Italy 1971
Bycicle Karl Drais Karl Sruhe, Germany 1817
Simpsons House Matt Groening Springfield, USA 1989
Panteon of Agripa Apolodoro from Damasco Rome, Italy 118
Mac Oscar Niemeyer Guanabara, Brasil 1996
LINGUISTICS AND ARCHITECTURE: A RE-REVIEW Joshua Nash, PhD / Associate professor / Aarhus Insitute of Advanced Studies, Aarhus University. Introduction by Kaisa Hjort Kristensen.
Why look at linguistics and architecture? How can interdisciplinarity affect architecture and architects? Maybe other disciplines can push architecture in exiting new directions and extend the architectural vocabulary. We have invited Dr. Joshua Nash, associate professor at Aarhus University in the field of linguistics, to contribute with his research in linguistics and architecture, language and culture, because we are interested in reconfiguring disciplinary boundaries.
In 2015 I reviewed Rod Barnett’s (2013) volume, Emergence in Landscape Architecture, in the broad in scope landscape studies journal, Landscape Research. This was around the same time that I had begun publishing research melding linguistics with architectural history and theory. I had by that time had several theoretical articles combining linguistic analysis and the built well rejected by editors and reviewers in more than a handful of traditional and less conventional outlets. One of these rejected pieces was a review article of Hélène Frichot and Stephen Loo’s (2013) edited work, Deleuze and Architecture, published on Edinburgh University Press. This review, in which even the journal Deleuze Studies published by the same press was not interested, and which draws largely on the linguistic and architectural undertaking in which I was involved in 2014 with several Australian architectural colleagues, amalgamates creative takes on linguistics, architectural spatial writing, pilgrimage-mobility, and ideas of languagemeets-built crossover. Three reasons for these rejections: “The engagement with relevant theory and accompanying citations and references were not of the standard usually expected of academic journal articles; Were this intended as creative writing or creative nonfiction, the structure does not permit the kind of narrative flow or focus that would facilitate storytelling; The longer discussions of history and linguistics interrupt any narrative development.” I disagreed with the import of this reasoning. However, I was and remain in author position. Disagreeing with a reject verdict usually does little for the hope of getting things out. That said, I was not surprised by these comments or by the number of times this piece was rejected. It was quietly ambitious. Still, after rewriting the piece on several occasions in response to received comments, I am definitely disappointed that more details of my writings about the linguistics (and-but not necessarily the language) of architecture are not yet out in the world to the extent that I would like, as fringey as they may be taken within the respective fields within which they exist. This piece attempts to remediate this hitherto non-acceptance.
Along with a presentation and reconsideration of my review article and Deleuze and Architecture as a complete volume and my own linguistic-architectural work on the Muslim cameleers in the South Australian Outback, I first consider once again Barnett’s Emergence, a key work in open minded approaches to landscape architecture, ideas of self in(volved in) architecture, and a call to task which queries what, how, and why landscape architects do what they do. In parallel, I return to several of my formative and even naïve thoughts about coupling linguistics with architecture using my non-published Deleuze and Architecture review article as a launching pad (I acknowledged yet another rejection of this piece today—24 May 2019). I intend my writing to be a polemic about two largely disparate fields: linguistics and architecture. While these fields may nominally have received some academic coupling, I argue that this nominal usage requires unpacking for linguistics to be a useful trope in architectural theory. For example, to speak of syntax and semantics in linguistics brings with it the requirement of knowing first how these levels of linguistic analysis work and subsequently how they can be applied to architecture. Few linguists look to architectural theory for assistance; even fewer architecture theorists know what a morpheme is and how morphemic analysis works. Or succinctly put: how linguistic is architecture?; and how architectural is linguistics? As a linguist and an architectural theoretician, I believe I am in a position to offer a well weighed enough critique of both of these positions. Linguistics and architecture. Language and culture. Barnett and Deleuze. First to Emergence.
Emergence (2013) in 2019 In my review (Nash 2015: 517) I summarise the volume: Emergence emerges. It emerges as a synthesised, theoretical conglomerate, almost as a living organism within the ecologies and ideas being described. Where other ideas split, Emergence integrates; wheras some theories cut, Emergence heals. While any philosophy can stand alone, Emergence melds. Barnett’s treatise-cum-manifesto of a holistic approach to situating a theory of landscape architecture emerges out of and among a combination of disciplines and practices: ecology, field theory, chaos theory, urban planning, and even art and film. It is here that I whiffed a hint of Barnett’s idea, namely that he is not really about (landscape) architecture at all, but is offering a different lens through which to observe. Observe what? The world, ecological underpinnings of life, pleasure gardens, and the fringes of things: Here lies Emergence’s most obvious strength and concomitant failing: eclecticism spreads the conceptual and fulfilled landscape architectural net wide which is exciting and challenging. However, at times, the net falls thinly, too thinly one could argue to warrant a major theoretical shift in the stodginess of the discipline. Still, Barnett duly acknowledges his encounters trace the barest outline of an approach’ (p. 199); where some may consider many of the broached subjects and praxes are not at all relevant to or not even of peripheral significance to landscape architecture and landscape research. (Nash 2015: 518) I did not necessarily agree with what I wrote here; the use of may was operative and somewhat removed me from personal responsibility. I think Barnett’s tack was of great significance and continues to be a noble undertaking. Throughout his work, he accentuates the necessity and ability to be bold and to warrant a major theoretical shift in our thinking about ar-
chitecture, place, ecology, and self. To this run I add language. More specifically, I addend linguistics to reconsiderations of architecture et al. And here I define linguistics as the assumption that language can be studied scientifically as a system. Before I honour this addendum, let me indulge in what I have learned about architecture through my own travels, theory focused teaching, and critical writing in several fields in the social sciences. I hope Barnett and Emergence as an idea would agree at least to some extent with several of the positions I put forward. Architecture is not really about building buildings. I argue (Nash 2015: 518) that “[Emergence] is a mission statement whose purport falls way beyond the prima facie ambit of landscape architecture into a philosophical and existential re-examination of the role and emplacement of humans within natural, urban, cultural and built ecologies.” I still agree with Barnett and myself here, although four years later I would be happy to remove the modifiers natural, urban, cultural and built. Emergence, then, is all about ecologies. Sure, Emergence is about ‘little a architecture’ (the built) and ‘big A Architecture’ (thinking about the built) at the same time that it leans toward rustling and shaking around architecture as a discipline and querying what work the branch of knowledge as a membrane can actually do. Barnett muddies the water of architecture nicely, solution through which several of my students have not been able to see the light of day: “But I came to architecture school to learn to design and build buildings not to learn about history and theory and write essays,” said some. “Well,” I responded, “perhaps a technical college would have been more fitting for your desire instead of a university.” I really do not believe architecture as a mode, model, and process of thinking and acting has very much at all to do with designing and building buildings. It is a fluid and transparent overlay, a polarising veil through which we can use to make sense of the world and which we can use to help us make the required decisions we need to make. Architectural thinkings and their essential transparency of reasoning provide fantastic microscopes into any number of problem areas, for example, 42
how societies are structured, how people talk about other cultures, what materials actually are and can do, and the complex nature of ecological issues. Shifting these ideas to linguistics, I offer in transfer that architecture and its concomitant yet varied lines of thought can be brought to bear on researching, for example, how language as a system and languages more generally are structured (commonly labelled grammar), how discourse is organised (discourse analysis), and the structural nature of human speech sounds in context (phonology). What does not appear here, and we are using tropes, metaphors, and analogies, after all, is anything about plans, sections, and elevations, eaves, architraves, and lintels, fenestration, overhangs, and setbacks. While these may be within the purview of the practical side of architecture, as they should, they are also-often present in the theoretical adjudication of architecture. Here I want to situate myself on a parallel track with Barnett as we travel forward to-through the world of thought. Thus spake Nash in concluding his review of Barnett: Some viable philosophical destinations are anticipated, as are pertinent methods with which to arrive at these ports of call. However, I suspect, and I am sure Barnett would concur, when we arrive at our termini, whe ever these may be, we must be already primed to employ a different tactic in order for Emergence to persist and thrive and change, with or without us. (2015: 518) Emergence, architectural theory, linguistics, and any other viable philosophical investigations and destinations in whichever field we find ourselves should not be limited or limiting. Like biology or cultural theory, mathematics or anthropology, architectural theory is a different category of layer, distinct sunglasses through which to perceive and take in the view in a different manner using a definite set of available and hopefully flexible tools. Deleuze and Architecture and the linguistics and architecture of concrete AND dust in the South Australian Outback KÅRK
I now wish to take Barnett and the basis of Emergence to task on a little jaunt in the South Australian Outback where I am employed in 2014 as a researcher to “look around, take in the view” (Nash 2018: 113). The view is of the present and absent built remains of the Muslim cameleers, immigrants who in a colonial landscape from the 1850s onwards constructed a physical-architectural and cultural life in their new land. Although Nash (2018) is now out—it was rejected five times before it found a home—my review article ‘Deleuze and Architecture, the conjoined, and the linguistics of concrete AND dust’ is all but homeless. And the temporal nature of the review is becoming less relevant—the edited volume Deleuze and Architecture came out six years ago in 2013—even though to my knowledge not a single review of the work has been published. In addition to a conglomeration of lingo-spatial moves, here I envisage this revisiting of my review article in part as a re-review of Deleuze and Architecture. From the outset, I claimed: As a linguist, my architectural reading– writing is necessarily–also driven by an impulse towards phrasing my arguments within language(s) of written architeture(s), and the discipline of writing as contributing to creative (architectural, linguistic, worded, and spatial) practice. Here I implicate personal research on pilgrimage and Outback architectural-historical walkabout and the conviction that writing architecture and writing linguistics can be submitted and realised as actual (physical–corporeal) and idealised (thought–abstracted) linguistic and architectural pilgrimage. I strive for a reading–writing–interpretation of selfselected (specific) missioning to peculiar architectural and language–centred loci within critical linguistic spatial writing and site–writing. Linking linguistics and language-as-grammar with architecture is nothing new. My position is that few linguists, if any, have looked to architecture for disciplinary assistance. While several architectural theorists have done things the other way around having drawn directly on
linguistics for aid, e.g. Jencks and Preziosi, we should remember that these scholars were not linguists by any stretch of the imagination. I feel that the architecture is grammar metaphor is commonly employed in a weak way because those who use it are not aware of what the tools of morphology, syntax, semantics, phonetics, and phonology within the study of linguistics and grammar can actually do. That is, scholars have used the architecture is language, architecture is grammar, and buildings are words metaphors primarily in nominal ways rather than in ways effective to the actual analysis of architecture through the possibilities linguistics offers and vice versa. After all, language is not linguistics. And as I am arguing, architecture is not (necessarily) building, nor do I believe that linguistics (essentially) has much to do with analysing language. Again, it is another membrane, lens, and tool to gain insight into the nature of things in the world. In a similar way, having worked as a linguist for almost 20 years, I am starting to think, feel, and experience that my discipline is less about analysing language as a system and more about understanding the possibilities of what assuming one is working with a system can actually produce scientifically. That is, it appears that linguistics on a deeper level has little to do with language at all. I believe linguistics is more about setting up a system or assuming such a organisation can be set up, which itself is a large conjecture, and then seeing what work this assumption can do. Linguistics is linguistics. Doing and studying languages is language-ing (as distinguished from languaging in late modern sociolinguistics). Emergence and Deleuze and Architecture are not exactly form-and-content bedfellows, but they certainly attempt to reconfigure disciplinary boundaries. The latter presents 16 chapters relating how the philosophical work of Gilles Deleuze applies and is applied to a myriad of concepts, from considerations of smooth and striated space, the process of folding, immanence, and the virtual in digital architecture to the manifestation of critical approaches to climacteric ecological, political, and social questions relevant to architecture and design. Such concerns include relationships between aesthetics and ethics, the fold
and care, incompletions and finalities. At the same time, the work is an attempt to demystify the philosopher’s appearance within architecture circles. Through applied studies for architectural thinking and disciplinary formation in architecture using Deleuze’s ideologies – from understanding walking as embedded practice within merged psychogeographies of urban and inverted space–time to a reconstitution of what constitutes a body and what a body can do – difficulties in accessing Deleuzean thought (for architects) are minimised. The result is a synthesised account “accessible not only to researchers and practitioners who are currently engaged in the field between Deleuze and Architecture [capital intended], and beyond, but also to students of architecture, design and art who are still wondering what all the fuss is about and still wondering what is the worth of reading Deleuze” (p. 9). The short discourses consider how a Deleuzean philosophy is equipped to and does challenge architecture as a creative and productive discipline. This is where I aspire to add linguistics to this mix. In parallel, I want Emergence and linguistics-architecture silently to step up on stage. The chapters in Deleuze and Architecture further substantiate ways in which architecture contributes to philosophy and how the discipline and trade of architecture can come to understand the complex politics of space within the confines of a contemporary and often pell-mell world and cultural milieu. The contributors make up a team working toward a return to the initial push and excitement of the 1980s, where–when Deleuze’s philosophy allocated the fuel for a renegade generation of architectural thinking, some of which led to the design of a global array of and within the contemporary built atmosphere. Deleuze’s work has also alerted architecture to crucial ecological, political, and social questions the discipline needs to reconcile, and so houses scholars and practitioners with both philosophical pointers and practical recommendations for handling an evolving and advancing edification, amelioration, and betterment of (the) hitherto architectural order. There is much on offer for the architectural historian, built theoretician, and cultural studies renegade in Deleuze and Ar-
chitecture. From Karen Burns’s opening survey chapter, which presents the influence of Deleuze conjoined with the work of feminist theorists from the political point of view of minor architectural voices, to Simone Brott’s more specific treatments of history as architectural subject and object, the editors’ and authors’ depictions of (historical) Deleuzean encounters with architectural theory should satiate the theoretician with fodder enough. A common issue with Deleuze is that his philosophies were adopted wholesale in architectural and design theory because they were so permissive and lenient. However, this collection seeks to set this record straight by submitting a broad set of theoretically and historically footed offerings, texts which weave a synthesised whole which serve as an adequate base upon which future theoretical literacy about Deleuze could conceivably build. What is significant in accounting for this volume as a marriage of ideas and theoretical nudges is to discern how and where it is placed within an oeuvre of Frichot’s and Loo’s own philosophical work in general2 and specifically Frichot’s ‘Deleuze and the Story of the Superfold’ (chapter 4) and Loo’s ‘Abstract care’ (chapter 14) as applied to ‘Deleuze the architect–politician’ and ‘Deleuze the feminist critic’. It is here an integrated ensemble surfaces, one which is indicative of a general post– something–or–other mood within contemporary architectural theory. A Deleuzean account of a post–feminist and post–structuralist architecture–within–the–humanities takes us on a jaunt within a materiality of writing (architecture). As Cixous and Frichot lead us to believe, this ‘childless’ and solitary exploration of writing is architectural3; Rendell would also want us to have confidence in the synonymy of ‘writing architecture’ and ‘architecture-writing’.4 These are not just words bandied about but a lived experience of wording encountering architecting, the nominal becoming verbal, a predicated inchoative subject. I want to know how spatial and architectural excess and dearth can force their linguistic and written equivalents.5 Boundaries are interchanged, and I, too, substitute the distant with the corporeal, the abstract with the real. Parr writes in his chapter ‘Politics + 44
Deleuze + Guattari + Architecture’: When Deleuze entered architectural discourse and practice, a shift toward experimentalism and the logic of conjunction and connection that typifies a Deleuzian ontology pushed architecture in exciting new directions. (Parr p. 197) This ubiquitous (en)folding, becoming, swelling, perforating, and smudging drives most of the philosophical and applied reflections in Deleuze and Architecture. The motif and noun fit to centre on is ‘conjunction’ and the role of conjunctions in ‘together joining’ writing architecture and architecture–writing. Conjunctions also impart ground upon which the philosophical moves in Deleuze and Architecture (the editors’ work) can be applied to the applied (my work about the cameleers in the South Australian Outback). Let us turn to this application of Frichot and Loo’s treatment of Deleuze, this writing of architecture, the project made flesh, the deconstructed built, and a search for the built–unbuilt within linguistics and architecture(s). Cameleers played a vital role in the European discovery, exploration, and settlement of Australia’s vast desert interior in the nineteenth century.6 Quietly but indelibly, these peripatetic Muslim pioneers also constructed their own places and dwelling spaces within this harsh landscape, and made it home. Along with their cultural settling, one would also expect a degree of linguistic housing to have occurred, specifically in placenaming practices. While their concrete remains are scant and few, my assignment is uncovering much regarding that which is absent, and what (architectural and linguistic) absence discloses: the previously organised dust I discover in the course of my walkabout. The non–present Outback exhibit of nothings and the distancing of time–space from the evidence of the could–have–beens all conjoin in the present on the Deleuzian object of exhaustion: The combinatorial exhausts its object, but only because its subject is himself exhausted. The exhaustive and the exhausted [l’exhaustif et l’exhausté]. (Deleuze 1998: 154) KÅRK
Let me tell you, I was stuffed (read: exhausted, l’épuisé [the exhausted, see footnote 1, p. 10]) when I returned from the Outback in July 2014. This was not, however, in the exhaustive sense of Deleuze. As Frichot and Loo tell us (p. 3), “being exhausted is much more than being tired”.7 Sure, the strong, built architectural residue fashioned in the late 1800s by the cameleers was as much in my view as the weak and absent residua of the unbuilt they never fabricated or erected. Scrutinising did wear me out, make me tired. Still, as the editors would have us believe, “[b]eing exhausted, however, arrives when we renounce preference, goals or choices regardless of the possibilities that lie in front of us” (p. 3). So while I was exhausted from architectural pilgrimaging, I posit I was not tired; exhaustion did not lead to tiredness. I do not reckon I became le fatigué (the fatigued) but simply remained l’épuisé (the exhausted): The tired (le fatigué) is someone who can no longer actualise the possibilities that still exist for them. The exhausted (l’épuisé), however, is someone who can no longer provide the conditions for possibilities. (Footnote 1, p. 10) I searched the thought remnants of these explorer–builders, hoping to uncover something more than (the) concrete lees of primitive construction left after makeshift mosques and rural settlements had been deserted or rendered defunct. And, the tangible and non-present frames prompted deliberation on the relationships of (the) language of the weak, the linguistics of concrete(ness), the grammar of architecture, and the definite versus the indefinite. Through this journeying, and more concretely put, I experienced a different kind of exhaustion: I lost critical distance on the conditions for the possibilities I was witnessing and was exposed to. I sought connection elsewhere, in language, conjuncted. Similar to Burns’s treatment (Chapter 1 in Frichot and Loo’s volume) of Bloomer’s ‘minor architecture’ as “mobilised matter normally considered abject – bodily waste, dirt, animal enclosures, animal tracks/animal habitats – to construct a different architectural
practice” (p. 18), my architecture-writing and architectural writing (practice) is analogous to Deleuze’s idea of an–the execution “a minority constructs within a major language, involving a deterritorialisation of that language”.10 The architecture is non–major, non–canonical, so my writing implies “[t]he transfer of literary tactics into architecture revealed the complexity of the relationship between writing and making architecture/space. Writing interrupts conventional ideals of visual form” (p. 18). This case in point advances writing within metaphors which are to nurture links “between material considered to be dissonant or dissimilar” (p. 18). My minor literature, my minor language is a pidginisation and creolisation of linguistic and architectural territories, the verge of where an and begins and a but and if disappear. This minor(ity) architecture also necessitates a mobilisation and reinvention of the (minor) architectural canon alongside new ways of perceiving the non-canonical built in terms of minority cultures and absent linguistics. The languages of the cameleers – they were linguistically marginalised, they spoke Hindi, Urdu, Baluchi, Pashto, Farsi – in contact with the colonial lingua franca, a developing Australian English idiom–cum–cant, were also pressured to the brink, the linguistic perimeter. Pidginised and conceivably creolised medleys evolved, forming parallelled linguistic and architectural parlance, hybridised states, creolisation. Financially limited because of their short term contracts, they never occupied nuclei of outposts but would convene their forced dispersal in makeshift and improvised fringe bivouacs. Like my exhaustion of the Deleuzean, I perceive an exhaustion of conjunctive and conjoining language within these pidginised and creolised architectural vocabularies. These vernaculars are impressed on architectural and linguistic landscape within encounters of and–buts, what-ifs, conditions– possibilities, and language–contact. I hope you are still with. Like Catherine Ingraham, I pose the architecture incident on my walkabout as animal (mute, tongue–tied); a setup whose most prominent quality is its materiality, regardless of its state, not its ability to word, formulate, or utter.11 In Burns’s eloquent reading of Ingra-
ham: “architecture gives ‘meaningful materiality’ to the ‘unsaid of culture’ (p. 20)”. The not–there of cameleer architecture, the dearth of cameleer names in the landscape – there are no very few placenames or street names equated to the linguistic continuation of the cameleer legacy. The personal names of the Muslim cameleers – Abdullah, Bejah, Khan – endure abstractly (singularly on gravestones) amid the contradiction separating the grounded dust fated relics (the now unbuilt, the thinked, the linguistic) and architectural realis (it is there, I know it because I can see it) in amalgamated linguistic terrain and architectural reach. I feel acquiesced in thinking of these micro colonies the cameleers occupied in this non-urban land. Still and again, I am exhausted. I have little more to give. And it is in this exhaustion, I hope I have made and used my conjunctions clear.
An appraisal of Deleuze and Architecture Frichot and Loo’s compendium–cum–conglomerate is impressive for several reasons. First, because where–while some writers have considered the relevance of Deleuze’s thought exhausted vis-à-vis architecture, this alleged exhaustion gives rise not only to a pertinent re–application of Deleuze but to a soft disregard for the past. Such an accomplishment is both exciting and possibility–creating. Second, the editors have appeared to have exhausted the lower case application of and through a transformation to an upper case AND. While an architectural dad joke (read: groaner) could lead us to suppose the volume’s writers moot Deleuze as having ‘conjunctivitis’ (i.e. Medicine: inflammation of the conjunctiva of the eye, also known as ‘pinkeye’, Here: the state of having exhausted the use of one’s conjunctions, the result of which leads to upper–casing, camels and architectural pilgrims with dirty dust in their faces leading to pinkeye), what strikes me as more probable and profitable (cf. my initial claim of Frichot and Loo’s ‘conjunctive profiteering’) is that the formation of exhaustive conjunctions in Deleuzean thought and practice was precisely what the
editors envisioned. Like the exhausted architectural detritus of the cameleers, which presented much, then quite little, and–then vice versa, this fused work takes up forgotten, philosophically abstracted diddly–squats, submits them as real and whole, and subsequently leads us to a regime of irreverence: a crusade away from buildings and thoughts of little or no interest to Deleuze AND Architecture, while being partial to that we want to see and know. L’exhaustif did lead us to l’exhausté; le fatigué was kept from l’épuisé. However, like the residua I found on my barren expedition, we are still left with something, some things which we can use to continue the exchange and possibly transform it into a tête-à-tête. Like most readings of philosophy, my spooring of the spatial behaviour and architectural relics of the Muslim cameleers was and still is filled with unease, disconcert, and even fret. What happens when I find nothing, where do I turn, and what should I say? This is the real exhaustion Deleuze proposes as that to be experienced: ‘someone who can no longer provide the conditions for possibilities’. Although I have labelled my vocation positively as ‘pilgrimage to and through camel poo and dust’, my verbal reactions to this nil are often expletives, something wholly malapropos. These utterances are as much my linguistic duds and utensils as the polite interrogatives which garb my wordage and questioning of those in 46
the know (informants). The secular mission is deserted (as in, it is in the sand and dust) and deserted (once I leave the company of others, there is no one else around, there is a lot of space). Here I find a sense of the sublime in architecture and language, some solace in the isolation. I can say what the hell I like. I dub the conjunction of such linguistic and architectural profanities and language and architectural abilities presupposing and involving movement irreverential (linguistic) pilgrimage. In the frustration, I utter one profanity after the other. One cannot but be a foreigner in these surrounds, a non-native artefact within the swear words of the ‘oh my God, when the … are we going to find something’–ness of architectural fieldwork. I want to doubt Gilles would disapprove. I hope we are still on the same architecture–writing page. The case study of the architecture of the Muslim cameleers, and the architecture–writing I embarked upon, lays bare several parallels between Deleuze and Architecture and spatial writing. I posit I have augmented Frichot’s ‘reading and writing relation’ within an apprenticeship of writing: Sometimes we need to commence without having established all the credentials, all the paperwork that suggests we are fit to write. Sometimes we need the humility to begin writing without presuming the exhaustive availability of knowledge, and must instead feel our way amidst provisional bodies of knowledge.12 Let me confess and plead guilty. It is through my reading and study of Frichot and Loo’s (and Barnett’s) work that I have been able to propose, reinvent, and transform my own impressions of my own architecture–writing. The ideas have equipped me with a spatiality of ideas and a prospect of reconciliation. If this development is but the only outcome of the publishing of Deleuze and Architecture, which I highly doubt, then this book exists as worthy action.
Emergence, Deleuze, and a new position on linguistics and architecture I have purposefully used some convoluted language to get some difficult points across. I have used artistic license, because I am able. I have been in this game for a while. And I have conjoined Emergence and Deleuze and Architecture because I read and reviewed them both (one out, the other continually rejected). There is always something to be gained from both personal and academic rejection. In this the scholastic case, I have re-packaged old and formative ideas-as-wine in new and revised pastures-cum-bottles. Barnett’s Emergence is valiant work, just as Frichot and Loo’s edition is sturdy theory applicable beyond and across disciplines. And, of course, it is a relief that the exhaustion of getting my tardy (not of my own volition) review of Deleuze and Architecture is now finally over. To conclude, let me please indulge a little more in the sunglasses analogy in order to round off my argument bringing together linguistics and architecture, Barnett and Deleuze, essence and symbol. As I experienced when I was in contact with Barnett in what led to a democratic dialogue when I was reviewing his work, I have a hunch several will disagree with my perspectives here, as many have disagreed with Barnett. I cannot remember asking Frichot and Loo about how their editing was received. I have a premonition it was not read with the most open mind as they would have hoped, mainly because Deleuze is not exactly in vogue these days in modern day architectural theory circles. Whatever the case, these and my approaches are what could nowadays go for being interdisciplinary. Again, linguistics and architecture are not really the bedfellows we might imagine them to be. Still, to interdisciplinarity I wish to add the possibility of pan-disciplinarity and even extra-disciplinarity. That is, as Barnett and Frichot and Loo would want us to seek out and consider, what lies within an enmeshment of disciplines (pan-) and even outside the realms of disciplines at all (extra-)? Here I ask: what does it mean to our disciplines if we contend that linguistics is not really about language and the spoken just like architecture is not about buildings or the built? Where does this leave us? Are our disciplines motile and changing sunglasses and vantage points through which to look and not necessarily solid foundations upon which unchanging truths can be laid to rest? Are all branches of knowledge looking over their shoulders thinking others are doing better elsewhere? Do anthropologists think physicists have the game sown up? Do biologists believe it is the social scientists and artists who are asking the crucial questions? To set about answers to these enqui-
ries, let me briefly re-quote my own review of Barnett: [W]hen we arrive at our termini, wherever these may be, we must be already primed to employ a different tactic in order for Emergence to persist and thrive and change, with or without us. (2015: 518) The case of the Muslim cameleers in the South Australian Outback has offered one terminus through which to reconsider the nature of the disciplinary meadows upon which we in related fields derive and sustain our livelihoods. By being brought closer together under a more critical and complex glare, linguistics and architecture can now sit better beside each other. And a re-reading, re-reviewing, and re-writing of Emergence and Deleuze and Architecture has been brought to bear on a more specific scene of thinkers and a receptive audience. It has been a pleasure to share my thoughts and re-thoughts with you. Thank you for listening, reading, and engaging.
2 See Hélène Frichot (2013) Persephone’s Margin
Barnett, Rod. 2013. Emergence in landscape
Call: Off the Page Toward Life in Space, Architectural
Theory Review, 18:2: 175-188, for aspects of
Deleuze, Gilles. 1998. Essays Critical and Clini-
Frichot’s philosophical thinking, and Stephen Loo
and Undine Sellbach (2013), “A picture book of
Frichot, H. 2010. Following Hélène Cixous’ steps
invisible worlds: semblances of insects and humans
towards writing architecture. Architec-
in Jakob von Uexküll’s laboratory”, Angelaki: Journal
tural Theory Review, 15 (3), 312-323.
of Theoretical Humanities, 18 (1): 45-64.
Frichot, Hélène. 2013. ”Persephone’s Margin
3 See specifically Frichot’s (2010) ‘Following Hélène Cixous’. 4 See Jane Rendell (2010), Site-Writing: The Architec-
architecture. London: Routledge. cal. London: Verso.
Call: Off the Page Toward Life in
Space,” Architectural Theory Review,
ture of Art Criticism London: IB Tauris, for a detailed
Frichot, Hélène, and Loo, Stephen. (eds.) 2013.
explication of Rendell’s posing and coordinates of site
Deleuze and architecture. Edinburgh:
writing and spatial writing.
Edinburgh University Press.
5 Elizabeth Grosz’s oft quoted Architecture from the
Grosz, Elizabeth. 2001. Architecture from the
Outside: Essays on Virtual and Real Space (2001,
Outside: Essays on Virtual and Real
MIT Press Cambridge, Massachusetts/London, En-
Space. Cambridge, Massachusetts/
gland) provides much content regarding ‘Architec-
London, England: MIT Press.
tures of Excess’ (chapter 9 in Grosz’s volume),
Ingraham, Catherine. 1991. “Animals 2: The
writing architecture, and relations between architec-
Question of Distinction (Insects for
tural subject(s) and object(s).
Example)’, Assemblage, 14, 24–29.
6 This is not the place to provide details of the role of
Jones, Philip, and Kenny, Anna. 2010. Australia’s
the cameleers in the Australian colonial project, nor
Muslim Cameleers: Pioneers of the
to supply details on the literature. The interested
Inland, 1860s-1930s. Kent Town, SA:
reader is referred to historical work by Jones and
Stevens and initial architectural documentation by
Loo, Stephen, and Undine Sellbach. 2013. “A
Scriver: Jones, P. and A. Kenny. Australia’s Muslim
picture book of invisible worlds:
Cameleers: Pioneers of the Inland, 1860s-1930s.
semblances of insects and humans
Kent Town, SA: Wakefield Press, 2010. Originally
in Jakob von Uexküll’s laboratory”, Angela-
published 2007; Scriver, P. (2004). Mosques,
ki: Journal of Theoretical Humanities, 18
Ghantowns and Cameleers in the Settlement History
of Colonial Australia. Fabrications 13, 1: 19-41.
Nash, Joshua. 2018, ‘Linguistic spatial violence:
Stevens, C. (2002). Tin Mosques and Ghantowns: A
The Muslim cameleers in the Austra-
History of Afghan Cameldrivers in Australia. Mel-
lian Outback’, Refract, 1(1): 103-118.
bourne: Oxford University Press: Melbourne.
Nash, Joshua. 2015, Review of Barnett (2013),
Originally published 1989.
Emergence in Landscape Architec-
ture, Landscape Research, 40(4):
7 Deleuze, G. (1998), Essays Critical and Clinical, London: Verso, p. 152. 10 Jennifer Bloomer, J. (1992), ‘Big Jugs’, Fetish: The
517-518. Rendell, Jane. 2010. Site-Writing: The Architec-
Princeton Architecture Journal, eds S. Whiting, E.
Mitchell and G. Lynn, p. 86 (footnote 9), quoted in
ture of Art Criticism. London: IB
Burns’s chapter, p. 9.
Scriver, Peter. 2004. “Mosques, Ghantowns and
11 Catherine Ingraham (1991), ‘Animals 2: The Question
Cameleers in the Settlement History
of Distinction (Insects for Example)’, Assemblage, 14,
of Colonial Australia.” Fabrications
24–29, quoted by Burns’s chapter, p. 20.
13, 1: 19-41.
12 See specifically Frichot’s (2010) ‘Following Hélène Cixous’, op cit., 315.
Stevens, Christine. 1989. Tin Mosques and
Ghantowns: A History of Afghan
Cameldrivers in Australia. Melbourne:
Oxford University Press.
Mathilde MÃ¸ll Helms, AARCH
50 5051 51
INHABITING THE ROOF ARCHIPELAGO connecting the disconnected? - speculaitons on a post-material world Sigrún Perla Gísladóttir and Ditte Horsbøl Sørensen, AARCH 2/3 E
Post-human, yet our species is far from outdated. We travel in time, allow ourselves to project forward, to imagine a future. Within the world we live today the question isn’t really how this future will be, we rather ask if it will be. Post-human, we’ve strived for the perfect human for ages, but once we get there - can it then still be human? We thought the next years and decades would be about artificial intelligence and virtual reality, but actually it is about being human. It will be, and is, about food, shelter, energy, water, friendships and families. The need to safeguard primal human needs has probably never been as urgent. Some think it is already too late to pull us out of the spiral we’re already within, we should let go and enjoy - but while scientists still see a future and a hope, we are obliged to take action. We must dare to dream. We need the dreams not to be blinded by the reality we live within, to get further. We seem to be stuck within a system that is hard to get out of, yet moving too slowly. The buffer for spontaniousity, hence change, seems to be hard to get. We decided to do a project, projected into a unforeseen future. The project takes place in a 10 m flooded future. (We know it will happen one day, when - no one has figured.) The fjord has grown deeper, water swallowed up land, split up the city. Rosborgs mountains of refuse stubbornly stick out on a flood-map, traces from the past, drawing contours of the future. KÅRK
A future where everything is possible, where the perfect human is just human. Human labor will most likely have become mechanical, maybe emotions algorythms, and individualism might have taken over. We will though still be human. What will here be phrased as the “post-” scenario is the material world. All material production has come to an end, we work with only what there is and exists, let me tell you, it does. Inhabiting the Roof Archipelago is a bachelor-project staged in a flooded future of the given site of Ny Rosborg, Vejle, Denmark. The project speculates on roof surfaces as the only land left, introduces families as communities of individuals, sees the material world as a closed cycle. The project takes the current program of the site as Recycling Terminal as its offspring for everything, reprocessing its information in every decision made. The project writes itself as a counter-text to one of Italo Calvino’s invisible cities, Leonia. “The city of Leonia refashions itself every day... it preserves all of itself in its only definitive form: yesterday’s sweepings piled up on the sweepings of the day before yesterday and
all of its days and years and decades. A fortress of indestructible leftovers surrounds Leonia, dominating it on every side, like a chain of mountains, mountains of refuse” This is the case of Ny Rosborg status quo.
They sit by the nets and watch the sun rise, far out behind the big bridge. Hours by the nets, this is the working day. Colorful objects of plastic, buckets and bottles, strand in their nets. Traces from productions of the past. They keep coming back. At the end of the day the family counts together, sorts, and cleans catch of the day. This is the valuta, the value left in the world. From previous production loops, that we long time ago realised was nonsense. The items are treasures to be celebrated.
5252 53 53
In the flooded landscape, houses become islands, their roofs the only land left. This is the land, we are to inhabit.
Inhabitants: Families An assembly of individuals sharing + caring 1. Kemifamilien 2. Administrationsfamilien 3. Værkstedsfamilien 4. Betonfamilien 6. Keramifamilien Activities: Genbrugsterminal
Within and around Recycling Terminal 8. “Production” Hall 9. Material Library 10. Material reception: 3D Scanner 11. Incoming “stuff” 12. Public: Plastic fishing nets 13. Power Tower Activities: Forsøgshaven
Within and around Research Garden 14. Human Composting: Soil Generation 15. Forsøgshaven: Food production 16. Regenerating the landfill
Shared domestic facilities // living: 1. Table 2. Tools + Utilities 3. Laundry, washing wall 4. Food-delivery shaft 5. Preperation station 6. Food Storage 7. Power-Tower 8. Plug-In: Shower
A room of your own for being: 1. Table 2. Bed
3. Plug-In: Toilet
4. Plug-In: Power 5. Human-waste compost collector
Plan A Plastic fishing net
Plan + Section
The project introduces a new form of “FAMILY”: The residents live by contributing to the society, the community generated by co-creation. Each family consists of 8-12 members. The project houses five families in the site of New Rosborg. The family members share domestic facilities, yet the framework provides a room for individual seclusion, individual essentials - the rest of the space and objects, are considered as to be shared with others. Residents build their own minimum dwelling space within a given steel structure, designed for disassembly. This building process is the main generator for the community. KÅRK
An architecture of USE against architecture of property.
Model Photo : Melted Plastic toilet plugins
In a waterscape, land-occupation has vanished, - there is no land to be owned. Here roofs as the land left are to be public spaces, accessible to all. The project proposes habitation around the roofs, hovering above the surface. Seperating the building from land, and the inhabitant from owning. Hellical-energy piles are piled in and around existing building bodies, reinforcing the existing while operating as a structure for new to come. The project sees the material world as a closed loop, activates the on-site material as well as incoming “stuff” // waste as value. Incoming “stuff” is welcomed in the “production” hall, scanned and categorized, stored in the material library to be borrowed out for use at site.
“Marx noted that the origin of private property is the origin of the possibility of owning the means of work and production. ... Refusing ownership of something means simply using it. The concept of use is thus the opposite of the consept of property. ... Use is here understood not as a value, but as the act of sharing things and thus as the supreme form of living together in common.... To use implies the temporary appropriation of an object by an individual. This object may be released after its use, and subsequently shared with others.” -Pier Vittorio Aureli, A room of ones own 56
Shower-plug-ins casted in plastic collected at site, hanging below water-tower
allowing water to siver through, go back in to circulation. Toilet plug-ins casted in plastic collected at site, replacing single inner cladding panel. Water is pumped up from below for flushing . Human waste is gathered in a compost-collecting-chamber, - to be picked up by a drone and pulled along the water to reseach garden for soil generation, regeneration of the landfill -- food production.
The only waste produced is human. KĂ…RK
Interior view from Home (d. fælleshuset). Vegetables are delivered by a boat from Forsøgshaven (e. research garden).
As architects we are able to generate ideas, imagine worlds that are to be, yet not existing. We see them in our minds, we can talk about them to each other. Do our best to share them with everyone interested or involved. It is within those worlds, we are able to imagine the change we want to see. Allow it to exist. Utopia seems to be in trouble these days, many no longer believe that a better world or life, is possible. This is the privelige of our virtual space. As trained thinkers and creaters, we have some sort of obligation to dream those worlds, view the visions, share them for others to see. In all honesty, this project came to existance after being handed out what in our eye seemed as a dead boring assignment. Recieving a site in a highly contaminated area, a recycling terminal built up on a landfill, - in a wetland, facing huges threats for floodings, our hopes were not high.
It was in a way debilitating, just as news and red flags on climate crisis can be. as architects dear to dream, it is there, we can see it and we can be it. The beauty of our subject (a r c h i t e c t u r e) though, IS this incredible force it has to turn challenges to possibilities, further dreams to realities. If this isn’t the magic existing in architecture, This is the magic, this is our role - we can dream we can see, we just must dare. To use architecture to tell stories, to envision futures. It is the privelige of our educational institutions, where projects exists on a board or a screen or a paper. There everything is possible. The possibility of paradise is already within us. We should be turning the discourse of a crisis in a direction of being empowering. We should be turning discourse to action.
power of disaster, and at utopias, “not as a resault of a partiasn agenda but a broad effort to salvage society”1, we dreamt for weeks and months about this positive possible future, created a disaster utopia. If we create worlds where strangers become friends and goods are shared freely. If we as architects dare to dream, it is there, we can see it and we can be it.
We decided to take this bad case, and turn it into a worst case, - searching for a best possible outcome. Looking at the disruptive 58
Artificial intelligence is no longer only mimicking human behavior but improving on it. Human labor has become mechanical. Emotions algorithms. Art computer generated. Synthetic organisms have outperformed the human. Ironically technology has shattered the human-centrist philosophy of its own makers. However, our species is far from outdated. There is an important distinction between technology and human nature - the human nature is uniquely flawed and unpredictable. To exist beyond a posthuman society means to adapt and contribute. The imperfect qualities of the human species provide a different perspective to a perfect automated future. An imperfect, much needed human touch. Marius Wold
Hvad bliver arkitektens rolle, når kunstig intelligens, i takt med moderne teknologi, bliver fastgjort i vores menneskekroppe? Vi manipuleres og tvinges til at leve et perfekt liv - i et samfund, hvor alle mennesker opfylder de perfekte værdier og idealer. Men hvad er det perfekte liv? Hvis vi kan optimere eller ændre vores gener ved hjælp af teknologi, kemi eller lægevidenskab, hvor meget menneske er der så tilbage? Hvad sker der med mennesket, menneskeligheden, de menneskelige relationer og vores hjem? Arkitektur er for mennesker. Den sætter rammerne for vores liv, og den præger os med sine værdier og idealer. God arkitektur giver trygge og funktionelle rammer med plads til udfoldelse. Hvordan løser arkitekten fremtidens krav fra det posthumane menneske? Har vi mistet vores legende kreative tilgang til livet? Ida Houmann
VIRTUAL PLAYTIME Critical Written Reflection Spring Semester 2019 Lucia Pells, Studio 2A, AARCH
The social consequences of the evolution of technology from material transport infrastructure to instant digital communication, has been and still is the core subject matter of numerous urban theorists and commentators, who provide us with apocalyptic visions of a digital dystopia; loss of communities towards an emphasis of the individual, flattening of ‘natural’ landscapes and an unwaning new, global capitalism that is so flexible and uncontrollable in nature that we evoke an image of a malevolent deity. The age of exponential technological advancements and society’s seemingly total dependency on digital information and connectivity in daily schedules alone means most people no longer look for play outside of the now, all-encompassing digital realm.
Let’s play, today
The relationship between architecture and play is multiplicitous, and has been informing how to approach building, urban design and societal change for decades. With the advancements of technology throughout the last century, the relationship between play and architecture has now become ever more expansive, as vast forms of unusual and unpredictable virtual worlds are being developed by digital game industries at an inconceivable rate. Through the analysis of current digital gaming culture, the project aims to investigate the current ludic conditions society finds itself in, from children to adults, and the substantial transformative impact
phrase; time flies when you’re having fun.
it has on space. It was an opportunity to brace for and engage with, rather than rebuff, the emergence of this new gaming phenomenon, as it is presenting undetermined and exciting future typologies. KÅRK
In order to begin to understand the conditions of play in the digital age, let us first look at the pre-existing definitions of play in the physical dimension. When I think of play, I am able to evoke a very specific feeling; a feeling of pleasure, joy and excitement. And yet play can signify an infinite number of activities, making it hard to define. To recognise play, I have to be able to distinguish it from regime and seriousness. On the most rudimentary level, play is the absolute opposite of productivity; it doesn’t serve the player to gain any material wealth outside of the confines of the game and places everyone on an equal status. Play is the freedom from routine and of time passing. To use the common
sm pa all ra ll str el ea to ms ra run il ni wa ng y
Exploring Typologies of Rural
Landscapes along Railway Tr
Aarhus to Streur
Whilst taking the train from Aarhus to Stoholm, I drew parallels between the sequentiality of the Danish landscape through the window of the train, with the temporal spatialities of a digital game. Discovery in digital gameplay is driven by the temporal nature of spatial sequences; the digital world is blackness until it has been explored by the player. I drew the axonometric as a sequential analysis of what I saw through the train window and my impressions the landscape gave me, from the rigidity of the strictly orthogonal landscapes of farms to the undulating hills with streams and forests.
We play games to remove ourselves from the Augmentation Goggles Adapting to a New Reality
outside world, to close ourselves in. Little by little, reality is unpeeled, until the player becomes totally immersed in the game. I explored this concept with a device that could be worn and used on-site. The device works with reflection in order to disorientate the wearer. By placing mirrors that redirected my vision to look in multiple directions, I had to adapt to this new way of interpreting the landscape in order to get from one end of the site to the next. The device contained mirrors of different heights and curvatures that could be placed along a grid at the base of my face. Through this process, I was removing reality and entering an augmented one.
Critical theorist Roger Caillois, author of one of the most influential texts on play, Man, Play, and Games, categorizes gameplay into four distinct forms: agon (competition), alea (chance), ilynx (vertigo) and mimicry (simulation)1. It is possible to recognise a combination of these components when looking at digital games. (For example, in the popular online game Fortnite, there is mimicry, agon, and ilynx, as the player takes on the role of a character that must navigate a simulated open-world environment, using skill in order to fight characters which are controlled by other players in the game in order to continue to next levels. The game is marketed mostly towards young people and children, therefore alea is not a component of the game. This is because chance is playful when the limits of risks are understood. Children, however, have not yet developed these critical faculties of foresight and objective calculation.2)
play-space. People are connected to their devices almost all of the time, therefore this form of escapism makes for an ideal situation for the games industry. The ease at which the game is accessed means that play can be inserted into daily routine, squeezing in moments of ‘play’ on the commute to work, as a form of distraction from an assignment or to avoid social confrontation. Social commentators such as Will Self claim that this is not truly play, but instead a form of anoesis5, however, it cannot be ignored that this type of ‘play’ is conceived by many as an accepted form of play. On the reverse side of the coin, there is a growing network who adapt their routine around digital play. In the last decade, there has been a transformative shift in how society regards these ‘full-time’ gamers.
Whilst games can have any combination of these components, the most characteristic power of the game is the sense of illusion, of entering a new world.3 Johan Huizinga, in his book Homo Ludens, describes this characteristic in gameplay as entering the magic circle, the metaphorical or concrete space which separates reality from the game, the freedom of ‘stepping out of “real” life’ into a tempo-
Taking urban theorist Paul Virilio’s critical and bleak perspective, gamers could be assimilated with the ultimate static vehicle or ‘terminal man’ body with the flick of a hand and click of a finger, the physical body being the last urban frontier in the virtual world.6 Virilio argues that because of this transmission revolution – the instantaneous speed of how people send and receive information, and transport their virtual selves across the globe – will
rary sphere of activity with a disposition all of its own.’4 In digital play, people step into this magic circle by opening up an app or connecting to their games console, the virtual interface acting as the threshold between reality and the
lead to a crisis of the present moment, which he defines as the ‘here-and-now’, resulting in the loss of the family unit, communities and whereby the world moves around the human neighbourhoods. However, since Virilio wrote
1 Roger Caillois, Man, Play, and Games, (New York: Free Press of Glencoe, 1961), p. 12 2 Quentin Stevens, The Ludic City, (New York: Routledge, 2007), pp. 36–46 3 Alberto Iacovoni, Game Zone: Playgrounds between Virtual Scenarios and Reality, (Basel: Birkhäuser, 2004), p. 10 4 Johan Huizinga, Homo Ludens: A Study of the Play Element in Culture, (London: Temple Smith, 1970), p. 8 5 Nesta - The Innovation Foundation, Will Self speaks about the future of play at FutureFest 2016, online video recording, YouTube, 29 September 2016, <https://www.youtube.com/ watch?v=maSvwpB6Tks> [accessed 19 April 2019] 6 Paul Virilio, ‘The Third Interval’ in Rethinking Technology: A Reader in Architectural Theory, ed. by William Braham and Jonathan Hale, (New York: Routledge, 2004), p. 363 7 Youri Loedts, ‘Facts and figures about games industry in Denmark’, FLEGA, 2015 <http://www. flega.be/facts-and-figures- about-games-industry-indenmark/> [accessed 29 March 2019]
The Third Interval almost twenty years prior, an unexpected turn has occurred in the nature of online gaming. From being perceived as an anti-social, minority group of isolated individuals, spending hours in the gloomy darkness of ‘gamer caves’ to becoming influential public figures, academics on gamer theory and gender politics as well as being scouted for the Air Force due to comparable skills that are developed in gaming to that of being a successful fighter pilot. Online gaming has become so popular and so widely accepted, that recent statistics indicate that almost half of Denmark’s online population are playing digital games, with a quarter of gamers playing weekly.7 In fact, as seen both with adults and children, the initial interest in online games is sparked by the enticement of community, of a shared sense of play. Games today allow for an infinite amount of individuals to play at the same time, creating the largest network of people to be engaged in a single activity to ever exist. To put this into perspective, World of Warcraft (WoW), the largest online gamer community, has at any one time more active online players than Sweden has inhabitants.8 This also sees the emergence of LAN parties, from small groups of friends playing together at gaming cafes, to hundreds or thousands of people competing in gaming stadiums. The explosion of interactive computer and video games has been made possible by a new generation of social software programs, today a multi-billion-dollar global industry.9 This new form of play, rooted entirely in the Internet and software programming with its diversity combined with ease of access, is now a major component of how modern society chooses to play. And with this, people find their virtual identities just as important as their physical ones, and in the not-too-distant future, more so. KÅRK
A new framework A movement that identified play as the centre of artistic and political action was the Situationist International. One of the founding members of the group, Constant Nieuwenhuys, attempted to explore the future of architecture and cities with his project New Babylon, by creating a better world for a citizen that did not yet exist; an architecture that ‘ignored the materiality of power in the real world, where there was no work and only play.’10 An example of a spatial condition that they believed would create ‘a mixed, never before seen environment’, was that of the labyrinth.11 We see labyrinthian conditions in the virtual spaces of games, where it is possible to construct space that flows and links in endless combinations, changing its structure from one moment to the next, unstable and fluctuating in form and geography. Rather than just catering to vision alone – which is what is seen with great frequency in cities today with skyscrapers designed to view outwards from glass and steel structures – the interactive space has the capacity to activate each of the human senses. Yet, despite the metaphorical ‘cloud’ of data, the Net has not, for the time being, transcended the physical; servers still require brick and mortar enclosures, with diesel generators, cooling towers, fans and chimneys. The architect’s ambition should now be on how to explore the existing preconception of an enclosure of technology and industry, with its inward-looking, faceless box in the landscape, to a spatial synergy between the physical and digital landscapes, looking through the lens of digital play as it could provide for interesting relationships with architecture. Through the advancement of technologies, people are able to transport themselves in a speed that obliterates the common percep-
tion of geographical space and time. Humans have finally achieved the ultimate static vehicle, whereby the human body is an immobile entity, with the Earth orbiting around it. With new technologies, people are able to navigate through space and time without making more than a few hand gestures. The human physical body has become the last urban frontier of the digitally mobilized, causing the ‘terminal man’.12 Architects can resist this new condition by looking back at romantic ideals of the past, taking solace in the bleak and dystopian texts like Virilio’s about all things technological, whilst in the meantime clients ‘vote with their feet’.13 It is more productive, and definitely more playful, therefore important that the architectural profession embraces the virtual worlds of play in order to not just improve our way of life, but evolve it.
8 Digital Culture, Play, and Identity: A World of Warcraft® Reader, ed. By Hilde G. Corneliussen and Jill Walker Rettberg, (Cambridge: MIT Press, 2008), p. 9 Manuel Castells, The Information Age: Economy, Society, and Culture. Volume I: The Rise of the Network Society, (London: Blackwell Publishing Ltd, 2010), p. xxix 10 Iacovoni, Game Zone: Playgrounds between Virtual Scenarios and Reality, p. 89 11 Iacovoni, Game Zone: Playgrounds between Virtual Scenarios and Reality, p. 77 12 Virilio, ‘The Third Interval’ in Rethinking Technology: A Reader in Architectural
Spatial Arrangement along Rail Explorative Axonometrics
Theory, p. 363 13 John Beckmann, The Virtual Dimension: Architecture, Representation, and Crash Culture, (New York: Princeton Architectural Press, 1998), pp. 215–216
SILOØEN: ON THE VERGE OF DEMOLITION Tankestuen Alberte Klysner Steffensen Frida Nielsine Bommenskjold Thomsen Text: Alberte Klysner Steffensen
Why should we preserve Siloøen at Odense Havn? Do the industrial buildings at Siloøen possess historical or architectural value? Can the structures even be regarded as architecture?
Odense Havn is, like many other former industrial harbours in Denmark, going through a great change, where the harbour front is being transformed into a new residential area. In this rapid transformation the historical buildings at Siloøen in Odense Havn are on the verge of being demolished. The question of whether to reuse or to demolish the buildings at the historical harbour is a current ongoing debate among citizens, architects and politicians in Odense. This essay searches for arguments that speak for the fact that the inactive industrial buildings at Siloøen can be regarded as a new form of cultural heritage. In the text, the understanding of the several industrial leavings as potential cultural heritage will be explained, mainly, from two different perspectives which are the perspective of cultural history and sustainability. KÅRK
THE HISTORICAL CONTEXT Siloøen is centrally placed in the harbour of Odense and has a significant role in the historical context of the city. The site is constituted by various industrial buildings representing different typologies and industrial eras. Muus Pakhus was the first industrial building to be built at Siloøen. The building is a red masonry from 1885 and was originally made for housing a factory for the production of chicken feed as well as silos for its storage. At the end of the 1950’s, ideas of new factory plants at Siloøen were discussed, which led to the construction of several modern concrete silos at the harbour. This included, among others, the FAF silo and the cylinder silo constructed in the 60’s as well as the Vitfoss silo constructed side by side of Muus Pakhus, which housed a new factory and larger silos for storage and mixing of the feed. Together, the different structures represent a storyline of different industrial eras, global changes and shifts in human activity that runs from the early industrialization embodied in Muus Pakhus from 1885 to the post-war recovery period of the industry and the globalized society represented by the modern concrete silos from the 1960’s. Where the typology of Muus Pakhus with its patinated masonry and arched windows expresses something textural, the functional, streamlined in-situ casted silos of reinforced concrete from the 60’s emphasize functionalist and modernist ideas. The transformation of former industrial buildings or areas into a new purpose is a widespread phenomenon in many Western
countries. Since World War II ended, increasingly industrial production facilities are or have been closing down or outsourced to other parts of the world where raw materials and manpower are cheaper. The continuously closure and outsourcing of various production sites create urban voids where bigger or smaller areas and edifices are abandoned and left without a current purpose. This tendency posits the question of whether to keep or not to keep these inactive structures. So why should we keep these big, ’ugly’ structures in posterity that reveals an unpleasant history of consumed resources; which caused pollution and which in many ways are ‘inhumane’? Do these ‘worn out’ buildings even possess architectural and spatial qualities? Can they be adjusted for new functions in a modern city with new needs?
There are many reasons to preserve former industrial structures. Firstly, the reuse itself, no matter if it regards a single building volume or a bigger area, can contribute to re-orientation and re-interpretation of the historical buildings or sites, where the inactive industrial volumes
spaces, where past, present and future can be seen together in a mutual dialogue. In this relation, it is essential to take history, preservation and active reuse into account while transforming an urban area. There is cultural history hidden in all inactive industrial volumes. The buildings of the industrial heyday testify an important historical foundation of a drastic change in the 20th century societies as well as they constitute a cornerstone in our present, modern, globalized world. They are embedded in our everyday culture and lives and thus in our culture of remembrance. The industrial structures are, for instance, associated with the working lives of a large proportion of the population of the Western World and played a significant role in the growing wealth of many countries by creating thousands of job opportunities. The Italian architect and designer Aldo Rossi said that: “One can say that the city itself is the collective memory of its people, and like memory it is associated with objects and places. The city is the locus of the collective memory.” (Aldo Rossi 1982:130) For any given person, places are infused with memory, and different people’s memories in relation to the same place are not necessarily consistent with each other. In the same way, a given place is infused with a
can be seen as potential new cultural heritage. Thereby, the edifices can become reactivated in another present context. The reusing of the de-industrialized facilities can create new
collective memory, which is in contrast to the personal. As Aldo Rossi mentions, you can understand the city as a mosaic of different memories; of different buildings or situations which
REWRITING THE HISTORY Active reuse and cultural history
work as or leave physical traces of a shared history and culture. These moments or ‘monuments’ of architecture have a close relation to the dynamics of the historical life process that has changed, and together they represent a continuum of the past, present and future. It is important to preserve buildings from different eras in history - both the ones associated with the merry and the melancholic, because together the different buildings constitute the city as it is today. Siloøen is a landmark in Odense and marks an important change in the city’s history which has been essential for the development of the present city. It would be fatal to delete this important part of the history of Odense. Siloøen could be treated as an example of how to actively include the post-industrial structures in the present city by respecting its historical value and importance. Adapting the buildings and letting them present memories of the lost industrial times, would constitute a dialogue between the historical center of Odense and the new urban harbourfront. The two sites could enter a dialectic interplay which might reinforce the total and diverse identity of the city and parts of its genesis. KÅRK
SUSTAINABILITY _Environmental and cultural Transforming an old building and giving it a new life, processes two aspects of sustainability. Firstly, the environmental by the fact of
collective perception of what is of value or not, has to change. It is therefore fundamental to change the general perception of Siloøen as
dialectic relationship to enroll in a new history.
reusing what is already there instead of tearing down to build again from the bottom. The big industrial buildings, such as silos, are structures which have been standing for more than 50 years and will still stand if we let them and treat them well. These building typologies are often robust, stable structures of much better quality than many of the buildings that we construct today. The idea of sustainability leans, in this relation, upwards a so-called adaptive reuse that refers to the process of reusing an existing building for a purpose other than which it was originally built or designed for. Adaptive reuse of buildings can be an attractive alternative to new construction from an environmental sustainable perspective in terms of contributing to a circular economy, which aims for minimizing waste and making the most of resources as well as evading destruction and material waste. It contributes to the creation of a kind of building ecosystem.
well as the general aesthetic values of its belonging concrete silos that currently are “not worth preserving”.
al transformation of the area at Siloøen and its former industrial buildings, where the change is clear. This is important for marking a new era of the place, attract people and change the old reputation of the buildings or areas into a new, positive perception. The various typologies at Siloøen are all very time-specific typologies since all buildings were planned and realized according to specific needs in a specific timeframe. A transformation or adaptation of the different existing building volumes is meant to keep the existing architecture updated to be suitable for the new timeframe: the present and the future. Conceptually, adaptive reuse can in this relation be used as a tactic to keep the buildings active, where the reused buildings will merge the values of the original construction as well as of subsequent adaptations. The evaluation of the adaptive reuse process relates to the capacity to add a new layer of sense to the existing significance and to the quality of reusability that the interven-
Secondly, the other aspect of the argument of sustainability is the cultural sustainability. In this regard, adaptive reuse is also relevant. Adaptive reuse is defined as the aesthetic process that adapts buildings for new uses while retaining their historic features. Using an adaptive reuse model can prolong a building’s life and be used as a strategy for keeping the building active, both from a material and immaterial point of view, mediating the relationship with the past and its different layered meanings. Making use of as much as possible of what is already there of a building or an area, presents an architectural challenge to change an existing perception, that rules in the present, of what we may automatically or normatively regard as valuable or important. In other words, the
ing building it is necessary to keep it inhabited, occupied and active. By giving an existing building new life and at the same time keeping alive the spirit of the former place one must explore how to evaluate, understand and transmit these values into the current, physical context. It can be done by evolving a relationship with our heritage and history, because every history establishes relationships of engagement and detachment, insight and overview. This is not just relevant in relation to the past - it must also relate to the present and the future history of a given place. Thus, the intention of reusing an existing building must accommodate new functions, meanings and activities, in order to establish a relation to the existing surroundings. Thereby, the old and the new can enter a
PROLONGING THE SILO LIFE _How to preserve the silos at Siloøen Finally, it’s important to point out that in principle a complete preservation of the industrial leavings at Siloøen is of no interest either. Preservation should not be understood as a static, stagnant, reverent consideration of a building, but rather be perceived as a dynamic, critical process with investigations and assessments which includes the historical details in every historic part of the building, its cultural values, its unique relation to its historic life and its living condition in relation to the present context. Preservation is linked with the idea of rescuing something from the danger of decay, damage or destruction. In order to preserve an exist-
On this subject, it is important to make a visu-
1. Rossi, Aldo. 1982, Architettura Della Città, Graham Foundation for Advanced Studies in the Fine Arts, Institute for Architecture and Urban Studies
Rosa Prichard, AARCH
POSTHUMAN What if the human being weren’t dependent on the body? How would it move? How would it interact with the surrounding space? The futuristic concept of a non-physical world is abstract but liberating. In virtual space the human being can move differently. The senses can be manipulated. In the avant-garde artist Laurie Anderson’s virtual reality piece Chalkroom the participant is flowing through an abstract, atomized, monochrome space. The participant can decide which stories and rooms to enter and discover. Inside the intriguing world of Chalkroom the experience is individual and surreal. The virtual space liberates the fantasy. It facilitates spatial concepts against constructive, static, and gravitational forces. In virtual space one can create utopia or dystopia. Imagine the architectural freedom.
Kaisa Hjort Kristensen
SESAM 2020 POLIKLINIKA Organizers: Eduardo Cassina Yana Buchatska Liza Goncharenko Mariia Pastukh Alexandra Polyakova Maryna Zaitseva German Mitish Text: Liza Goncharenko Photos: Alexandra Polyakova
28.05.2020 - 07.06 .2020 SESAM: Small European Students of Architecture Meeting SESAM is an overall name for all meetings, seminars, and events within EASA platform. 250 young architects from Europe and beyond will come to Slavutych, Northern Ukraine for 10 days. During the event participants will inhabit an abandoned hospital in the city centre and will help to bring it back to life. Around 30 workshops, run by architectural students and young professionals, will tackle the issue of this post-atomic city. Workshops will be selected by an open call and may vary from design and construction to theoretic research and conceptual art.
Slavutych, the youngest city in Ukraine, was built to rehouse Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant workers and their families after the explosion in 1986. Slavutych was built by 8 different Soviet republics, each in charge of building a different district, that they named after their capital. Each republic brought their own architects, workers, and materials to erect the city of 25,000 people in record time. The closure of CNPP in 2000 meant the crash of the modernist utopian dream in this (post)-atomic town. The new identity of SlavutychÂ´s development vector of the city and its future remains undefined. As Slavutych is looking for a new identity, we feel it is time to advocate for its incredible late soviet modernist architectural legacy, which showcases incredible examples from different practitioners in the former Soviet Union. Over the past five years, Slavutych has started to gain recognition, both in Ukraine and internationally, after hosting the 86 Film and Urbanism Festival. Since the last edition of this festival was held in 2018, we are hoping to keep the interest alive by highlighting its cultural importance in the architectural and urbanism field in the context of Europe. 74 7475
POLIKLINIKA The polyclinic was a prime example of the late modernist architecture designed to heal the trauma and wounds of those most affected by the radioactive cloud. Abandoned since 2014 the building, a municipal property which occupies several thousands of square meters, is quickly becoming a ruin in the centre of Slavutych. In order to activate the space, and aligned with our intention of focusing on the architectural legacy of the city, we are going to use the â€™poliklinikaâ€™ (clinic, hospital) as a base of operations for SESAM 2020. During the event participants will not only inhabit the building, but they will also have a chance to use it as a space for workshops, where they can propose spatial experiments, as well as for various events. Interventions inside the building will remain till the next event, creating a platform for experimentation on forms of habitation, interacting with empty spaces of the building, as well as re-thinking and reflecting on earlier interventions. Through the activation of the hospital ruin we are aiming to bring Slavutych back to avant- garde architectural discourse, where it was in the beginning of its creation, when the city was designed by leading architects of 8 different countries.
For more information about participation in event and workshop calls please follow: https://sesam2020ukraine.com https://www.facebook.com/EasaUkraine/ https://www.instagram.com/easaukraine/
Notes from Honjima Ada Zalecka, Institutt for Bygningskunst og Kultur, KADK
Kosaka hides generations of fishermen and women within a mixture of low maintenance houses and more traditional homes. There is a small ‘hokora’ around every corner and if you follow the path between two buildings located near the main road, you will soon be overlooking Kosaka and the Setō Inland Sea before entering a shrine. There are many shrines on this island and every settlement we’ve explored so far connects to at least one of them. Temples are also a permanent part of the area, once housing 40 temples on only Honjima. Today there are 11 left standing. At first glance, Kosaka is an empty town with a harbor for fishing boats where working people have varying schedules depending on the season and market opening hours. On Thursdays all the lovable and tough old ladies come by the parking lot by the harbor to shop for food and other groceries. They look like a retired gang of hooligans as they approach from all the quiet houses, using walkers and firmly moving their folded bodies forward. There is an amazing humor, strength and kindness as soon as you greet them. After activities like the collective and ephemeral grocery shopping, some of the inhabitants stay for a little chat, invited to Ooe-San’s terrace or just by Kubota-San’s house right on the street. Luckily, there isn’t much traffic most parts of the day. Sometimes the neighbor drives by from Kosaka with his 17 Golden Retrievers stuffed into two tiny cars. Overall, people bike around and to/from the ferry. The near-empty roads let us bike quickly up hills and around winding paths, either with direct visual contact to the clear sea below or sheltered by massive areas of bamboo, jungle-like forests and the never-ending sound of cicadas. Crabs quickly dribble sideways out of our way as we ride past cats and clusters of buildings. In Fukuda, on the north-west part of Honjima, we arrive one morning to a surprisingly active main street. There’s an older man biking past us, eight lazy cats relaxing on the asphalt, 3 men delivering some sort of order, and locals here and there on their way to work or already in deep concen78 7879
dozou covered with namakokabe. At the end of the village there are instances of destroyed traditional houses where roof structures have fallen in as if to showcase the number of layers needed to complete a building. Layers is a recurring theme in our wayfinding on Honjima. It seeps into many parts of our steps towards an understanding of the style of Shiwaku Daiku and other traditional techniques. It is our hope to use this newly attained knowledge towards something physical and present, as to represent it all from our point of view. The factor of time – layers of eras and overlapping generations, culture and ways of existing – is combined with a more practical take on layers in the form of materials. The countless names of vernacular Japanese carpenter methods built up and modified regionally depending on accessibility to certain materials are manifested in these structures we will learn more about. The inheritance that is Shiwaku Daiku has ended due to the passing of the last carpenter, taught by the previous Daiku. It is now more important than ever to map, understand and transcribe parts of this heritage. Hopefully an interpretation, created with the uttermost respect to local culture and people, will take place. To capture a fragment of Shiwaku Daiku, to make place for interaction and furthermore, to pass on the knowledge.
tration. Some are gardening on the nearby plots of land, all ladies covered from the soon-to-be harsh midday sun with hats, gloves and long-sleeved outfits. Fukuda strikes us as a quite collected place, where the decline is safely hidden away behind neat gates only giving us a tiny glimpse of the state of things. The seafront holds more modern houses as well as a shrine (of course), and while going deeper into the village you experience the beautiful wooden facades, tiled roofs and traditional KÅRK
Reading Honjima is a platform for projects located in the Shiwaku area in the Setō Inland Sea in Japan. Currently they are organized by a company called CONNECT, which sells and restores Scandinavian furniture. During fall of 2019 there are two active projects - one is mentioned by the name “Villa Kosaka” and the other by “Interpretations of Shiwaku Daiku”. My colleague and friend Signe Bay Bøgh Larsen and I work with the latter by understanding the history and patterns of the Shiwaku carpenters and their creations. The goal of the project is to interpret and propose an object or instance where the knowledge and physical examples are manifested through our own point of view. Photographs and sketches come from both our daily life here on Honjima, as well as the project itself.
DISRUPTIVE ASSEMBLY Instigating spaces towards connections of physical and virtual experiences Ashkan Rezaee, Studio 2B, AARCH
Passive activities such as watching people on street and the life that used to be running through cities streets, squares and meeting points has been shifted to our devices’ screens. The joy of gathering around to go to the movies, buying popcorn and the feeling of walking out of cinema buildings within different levels replaced by YouTube, Netflix, and such. Looking back to the history of architecture and urbanism, there had been three major city functions; meeting place, marketplace, and connection space. “As a meeting place. The City was the scene for the exchange of social information of all kinds. As a marketplace, the city spaces served as a venue for the exchange of goods and services. And Finally, the city streets provided access to and the connection between all the functions of the city.” (Gehl and Gemzøe, 2001). Interacting with these places had been a part of every citizen’s life. Now, with the advent of technology and social and economic changes, forms of activities has been changed, however, most of them are the same activities as before, but they have been altered in different forms. By having new ways of expressing ourselves, we have been getting new terms and meanings as well; such as scrolling, chatting, commenting, re- (posting/tweeting/...) and so on. However, I do not want to engage particularly in focusing on the advantages and downsides of these changes, but rather to explore the relations of body and environment. The idea is to use interaction as a tool of design and also as a favorable result which stimulates people to bring out their sense of collaboration and participation; a public space to help people to grow and train their consciousness. 80
From Photogrammetry To Noise-Driven Form-Finding “At their least abstract, surfaces are the boundaries of matter, the interface between solid or liquid and gaseous elements or space. They are generally complex and dynamic at the molecular scale. Designers tend to engage with more abstract and idealized surface descriptions; in architecture, the surface is predominantly a geometric idea.” (Burry and Burry, 2012). The abstraction of imitating nature came far from early ages’ line drawings to this day 3D-modeling, photorealistic rendering, volume modeling and so on. Nothing is more immersive and exciting as nature and it is because of its complexity and combination of all of them which stimulates all of our senses. It does not mean it contains copious details, yet all the balance and clashes are clear cut to our senses. Having the method and program established earlier in the project, it was time to blend them together in order to create the desired form on the site; based on Gustav Adolf ’s status. With a slight parameter change in each iteration, there were different behavior emerging from the point cloud; If the change was for barriers (something that point cloud was influenced by) or velocity (an attribute from the point cloud natural behavior itself). However, this result is the last iteration of these four months of studying on this algorithm. The design came from an amorphous shape study; it‘ll be clean and beautifully cut in the cityscape. There have been types of using the urban space as It has been visualized in the project, which will be a part of rethinking and reshaping of a new design for Gustav Adolf ’s Square. However, adding new layers to the urbanscape has called for new types; the Enter-active Types. The mission is not only focusing on enhancing more or less existing types but also aiming for involving human senses in an urban playfulness; the architecture of play. GAT Photos on Instagram \ Colour-mapping of all the photos extracted from Instagram dated from 2011 to February 2019 - 4000/4127
Generated PointCLOUD \ The final iteration of finding points based on the mentioned criteria in the previous chapter.
Hvor meget kan vi fjerne fra mennesket, før det ikke længere er et menneske? Og hvor meget kan vi tilføje? Menneskelighedens grænser bliver afprøvet inden for flere discipliner. Genmanipulation, teknologisk optimering af menneskekroppen, kolonier på Mars - muligheder, der udfordrer de gængse tanker om menneskearten (og dens overlegenhed), der bevæger sig fra det ”naturlige”, og måske endda gudsskabte, til det tekno-naturlige. Hyperrealistiske silikoneskulpturer af fabelvæsener og menneskelignende mutanter er den australske kunstner Patricia Piccininis svar på en mulig post-human tilværelse, hvor vi må forholde os til skabninger, der hverken er mennesker, dyr eller robotter, men hybrider. Hvis dette er tilfældet, hvorledes skal disse skabninger passe ind i menneskets verdensbillede? Og ikke mindst; hvordan, skal Vi leve med dem? Helene Selmer Brøndsted
Post human - en tilstand ud over det at være menneskelig. Måske er vi alle snart ved at nå stadiet, til tilstanden ud over det menneskelige. For bare 50-70 år siden, var alle lidt mere menneskelige end vi er idag. Idag har vores teknologiske udvikling sørget for at vi næsten kan leve til over de 100 år. Vi kan erstatte vores kropsdele og indre organer med teknologiske dele, som fungerer næsten bedre end menneskekroppen. Selv vores mest centrale del af kroppen kan vi nu skifte ud, og gøre os knap så menneskelige som før. Om bare 50 år, kan vi måske leve evigt? Men er vi nået en unaturlig grænse, eller er der længere at gå? Nanna Bonne Jensen
“A building which will not contradict, but enhance, the feeling of being in the middle of nowhere; has to be accessible to the public as well as to private guests; has to create a feeling of seclusion conducive to creative impulses, yet… accommodate audiences; has to respect the wildness of the environment while accommodating a grand piano; has to respect the continuity of the history of the place while being innovative.” ------The Generator Project, Cedric Price , 1979
THE DIGITAL SUBLIME Bodil Eiterstraum and Linn Johansson, 2/3 E, AARCH
Throughout history the site of Vejle has been shaped and distorted by man (for man) through acts of cultivation, paintings (for a certain political gain), and industrialisation. These acts of modulation is a part of history, standing as a memory, or display, of human interaction with nature in the past. Especially evident for our location at Ny Rosborg is the small hill, created by layers of trash and soil, standing as a landscape of human consumption. The evolution of the site has a common narrative globally, where we are now facing a future where the consequences of the cultivation of natural resources will challenge our conventional way of dwelling. Living in the “Age of Information”, technologies has become pervasive with every action, both online and offline, leaving virtual traces. These traces creates patterns and sets which has become a significant part of economy today. (Ex: personalized ads) We are moving within the age of cyber physical (sensor based communication enabled) systems.
”Architecture must do more than just look like a living organism: it should perform as a living system” ------The City of Tomorrow: Sensors, Networks, Hackers, and the Future of Urban Life, Carlo Ratti, 2016
public surface energy harvesting kite
digitally fabricated habitations
energy + data transmission
kite home base
7th platform when elevated
7th platform when grounded
1st platform when elevated
1st platform when grounded
water distribution by hydraulic power
heat from server hall distributed within structure
distance between antennas: 20
1 2 3 4 5
sailcloth (fibre) carbon fibre frame latex FRP + HDPE pipes graphene reinforced concrete
The project sets of in an imagined scenario of the year 2050, after a huge cap of the ice on Greenland has caved in - resulting in an acceleration of sea level rise globally, affecting Vejle and the river valley in terms of climate and landscape and an increased number of people relocating to the city as Denmark has been declared as one of the countries in the world best fit to survive climate change. The old fjord of Vejle has returned to its natural state, leaving the city centre under water, and the landfill of Ny Rosborg above it. Could immigration and digital technology help Vejle reach the goals of a resilient city by 2050? The intention of the project is to create architecture sufficiently responsive to the environment and man harvesting the collective intelli86 87 gence for constructive pleasure - protection and habitation in return for data.
”if density and diversity give life, the life they breed is disorderly.” ------Quotation of Jane Jacobs from ”the open city”, by Richard Sennet
OPEN STRUCTURE Looking into the future and drawing on the inspiration from open system theories (ex: open source software programming where the source code of a program is released under a copyright which allows users to use, re-write and act as co-developers) the project aims to give the inhibitor a sense of ownership in the possibility of customisation of individual units, parallel with the development of the community structure. Every man relies on the other and everyone is visible - resulting in a mutual trust and therefore also a feeling of security within the structure.
NOMADIC DIGITAL FABRICATOR The producing force of the digital sublime is run by a nomadic digital fabricator - a moving (thorugh water, land and altitude) device containing various components. This enables it to construct uniqe and diverse living-units for the inhabitants (on the basis of algorhythms for each individual). Consisting of two main components: the arm, and the drone. Working together, the drones gather information on the sorrounding environment and states of clima, as well as collecting user diagnostics - ensuring a constant learning and development of the system.
ASSEMBLY CUT PRINT MOLD SCAN LAZER COLLECT 4 SOLDER WELD MOVE ENGRAVE 5
1_Drones: transporting and harvesting material for constructing living units. 2_Cameras and sensors: collecting data, constantly learning and approving. 3_Toolbox: Storage for tools allowing for various forms of digital fabrication.
4_Arm: 6 axis robotic arm, ability to reach any point in its area, with any given orientation. 5_Docking: Docking station for drones within robot (repair, standby-mode). 6_Movement: interchangable legs for climbing and walking, and inflatable membrane for water transportation.
TIMELINE OF INHABITATION A: Scanning of persons desires and needs B: Creation of algorhythm for the living unit (negotiating other factors, such as neighbours, use of water and energy, ect) C: Construction of living unit, by nomadic digital fabricators (programming the algorhythm in the robot) D: Creation of public space (dependent on each living unit = interdependent relation between public and private) E: Loop: regenerating of space depending on information of usage
EXPERIENCE + COLLECTIVE MEMORY All data uploaded to the structure creates a collective memory. Selected memories can be projected on any surface in the environment of the structure. This ”museum of uploaded memories” will function as a tool for communication, learning and contemplation. The experiences of each inhabitant will create an enmeshed space - a connection between the virtual and physical, creating a sense of belonging.
“Architecture is no longer simply the play of masses in light. It now embraces the play of digital information in space.” ------”E-topia”, William Mitchell 90
Notes on: Surviving beyond the fittest Hannah Keegan, Unit 1B, AARCH
Ukendt Kunster, Lørdag Aften
https://www.nickbostrom.com/posthuman.pdf, ”Why I Want to be a Posthuman When I Grow Up ”
David Bowie, ”Heroes”
*lytter til interstellar soundtrack åh det farlige begær efter at ville have det hele når først man har set hvor godt det var ”jeg dyppede lillefingeren, men hun tog hele armen”1 at være POST-HUMAN eller rettere: at tro på POST-HUMAN er startet som et begær efter THE SUPERBEING a posthuman capacity, (…) a general central capacity greatly exceeding the maximum attainable by any current human being without recourse to new technological means 2 evig, elastisk, resistent, utæmmelig intelligent, forudsigelig, adopterende ”a state beyond being human”3 vi har dyppet lillefingeren, i havet af teknologi og kemiske eliksirer og fuldtudviklede hjerner og snart tager de hele kroppen og kroppen hvad sker der med den når SUPERBEING tager over er man stadig en krop? er man stadig et køn? er man stadig et rum? har man stadig et ord? er man stadig et man? SUPERHUMAN, SUPERHERO ”we could be heroes”4 Men heltekvoten findes og der er adgangskrav heltekvoten er autonom, rationel og gunstig, og den leder skibet an med nytteetikken ved sin side, og vi kan prøve at svømme med, give efter for ræset, affinde os med sidstepladsen men vi har bare lært, at dem der ofre sig i sidste ende bliver til havskum at tro på POST-HUMAN kan blive starten på the human version of planned obselesence transition bliver til udskiftning bliver til udryddelse sameksistens, overgivelse, overvindelse kært barn har mange navne må den bedste man(d) overleve 92
Hvor meget kan vi ændre på menneskeligheden og stadig være mennesker? Vores forståelse for, hvad et menneske er, bygger på gamle traditioner fra den græske filosofi. Men hvad sker der, når denne humanistiske idé om mennesket forsvinder? Forsvinder vi, bliver vi erstattet eller udvikler vi et form for supermenneske? Mange af de udviklingstendenser vi står overfor i dag, er ikke radikalt nye, men de kan accelerere og til sidst udvikle sig i en sådan grad, at mennesker ikke kan følge med. Det er her fremtidens menneske skabes, det som vi kalder det posthumanemenneske mennesket efter mennesket. Men hvem er det, og hvordan ser det ud? Ida Leonhardt Jespersen
The world is changing in limits that we cannot exceed. Technology and globalisation is modifying our ways of living as well as our needs in society. Which makes us wonder, how can we create a society for a post human world? How can we predict the non-existing, the unexpected? As an architect, you must ask yourself - how will our buildings from the past, present and future be used in a posthuman world? The architect loses control of the buildings representation once itâ€™s constructed. The building obtains a new soul and is affected by the users. The buildings purpose is always changing alongside the society. Karoline and Lisa
3D Printing Workshop: Computation in Architecture Text and workshop: Gabriella Rossi, Computation in Architecture (CITA), KADK
Deep investigation of material making and grading, and the connection of material properties to architectural performances. We will work with clay, recycled glass, cellulose, bioplastics and living bacteria to explore more novel and complex 3D-print-based materialisation processes. Architecture is being challenged to find new balances between population growth, sustainable use of resources, and the quality and form of the built environment. Where current practice has not yet questioned its contexts of production, the sheer scale of transformation needed necessitates a fundamental rethinking of not only planning, regulation and production, but also of the actual materials with which we build. This year at CITA: Computation in Architecture, we are investigating new material futures and testing the architectural implications associated with this change. Moving beyond modernist materials such as concrete, steel & glass - the source of significant environmental impact and resource depletion - we are exploring how architects can engage an alternative material paradigm centered around natural and recycled materials and the Circular and Bio Economy. We are working at the intersection of two territories: New Materials - bio-based materials such as clay, cellulose and biopolymers, recycled materials such as glass, and living materials such as bacteria - and New Digital Technologies, particularly Robotic Additive Manufacture. On the one hand, we explore the underlying behaviour of these materials, investigate the opportunities to integrate, compose and grade their properties at multiple scales, and use sensing, modelling and representational tools to register and expose different aspects of their behaviour. On the other hand, we investigate how we can start to design specifically for additive manufacturing, and relate the 3D printing process to geometric form, architectural function, and material behaviour. A series of workshops at the beginning of this semester has enabled direct material experimentation and hands-on prototyping, and opened up a set of speculative explorations about how a future architecture might look and perform.
Robotically printed Filigree glass lattices. Understanding the material behaviour during firing as a key to a successful print.
Prototypes fabricated using Robotic Clay 3d printing, showing the potential of compression-based structural elements, while using fabrication parameters for ornamentation.
A STRANGER IN A FOREIGN LAND My First Drawing of the Year Rune Wriedt, Studio 2A, AARCH
The wall drawing A Stranger in a Foreign Land simultaneously served as a catalogue, a sketchbook, initial research and a generator for the first ideas for my ongoing thesis project. It was a reflection upon the impressions from a month-long study trip to the Southwestern U.S. and Mexico, and sought to revisit the most powerful recollections of the contentious border region through the medium of (re)drawing them. The drawing seeks to decipher and condense a multitude of impressions. Its title - A Stranger in a Foreign Land - refers to the act of displacement, as well as the duty of the architect to empathise with spaces, cultures and issues beyond our ordinary experiences. The drawing itself is an interpretation, a wondering and a reflection, thus becoming a point of departure for the thesis project. It is to be read from its extremities towards the center, as the registrations of landscape, art and architecture transmute into research on Georgia O’Keeffe and Frida Kahlo. Both artists are utilised as cultural representatives of their respective countries, and through the contemplation of their domesticity and worldview the first spontaneous and immediate ideas of the project emerge. I believe that the potential of drawing goes beyond the communication and representation of an architectural project. Most importantly, it begins to establish a connection between our imagination and body - when drawing, no matter what technique one uses, one makes manifest in the world something that only existed in the mind’s eye before. In this way, the dis-
cipline of architecture becomes as much of a craft as that of the artist or the musician, a practical skill that must be honed. Digital drawing tools have become an integral part of the professional architect’s life, but we must remind ourselves not to let post-human algorithms and parametrics control our hand. As drawing is the means by which the intangible dreams of the architect are expressed through the mediation of the body, it is vital that these digital tools are not allowed to stunt the visceral relationship between the imaginary and the corporeal – something which is encouraged and refined by the directness of the analogue drawing. In the end, whether we draw with pencil or CAD, architecture without the human body cannot be architecture.
92 9899 99
NATURE Joanna Foxley, Political Architecture: Critical Sustainability, KADK
Nature /ˈneɪtʃə/ Origin Latin natura: course of things Latin natus: birth
noun The phenomena of the physical world collectively, including plants, animals, the landscape, and other features and products of the earth, as opposed to humans or human creations.
For the past year and a half, the four municipalities of South Funen Archipelago, have started to investigate the possibility of turning the South Funen Archipelago into a designated UNESCO Global Geopark. The ambition for this project comes from an initiative of local politicians, citizens, farmers and proprietors to place the archipelago on the world map. In celebrating and showcasing the geological heritage of the area and actively using it to create a framework for the development of the archipelago, alongside the area’s cultural and historical values, the project seeks to rebrand the South Funen Archipelago as a destination for ecotourism throughout the year. The criteria for UNESCO Global Geoparks is strictly defined. Geoparks are unique geographical areas where sites of international importance are managed comprehensively with an aim to protect, educate and develop the area sustainably. To be admitted as a UNESCO Global Geopark, the region in question must have a functional and operating development plan for some years prior, in order to show its eligibility. A Geopark is given its title for a period of four years, after which it must undergo a revalidation process. As part of this, a progress report must be presented and two evaluators examine the quality of the park in a field mission. At present, there are 140 UNESCO Global Geoparks worldwide. The bottom-up approach of merging conservation with sustainable growth, whilst actively engaging with local communities make UNESCO Global Geoparks more than just geological sites.
Although this project promotes the archipelago, discussions regarding the acquisition of such a status are centred around the benefit of the municipalities’ populations as well as political and economic agendas. The way in which humans have affected the archipelago however is not addressed. It is often too easy to distance ourselves from the reality of our effect on the environment, when conversations around it seem too overwhelming and do not concern our immediate settings. However, a more thorough critique and analysis of the archipelago, highlights the evident consequences of overfishing, stone fishing and intense landfarming on the local marine ecologies. It is, as Josianne Gatt Støttrup, a senior researcher in marine habitats at the Technical University of Denmark, says, impossible to talk of a pristine or wild nature in Denmark, whether it be on land or in the sea. Dependency on the sea has decreased and it is easy to understand the passive gaze a lot of locals have when looking at the waters.
“nature”, OED Online. Oxford University
“Geopark i Det sydfynske Øhav er en
Press, last modified July 2018 realitet”, Michael Thorbjørnsen, ugeavisen dk, last modified October 2018 3
“UNESCO Global Geoparks”, www.unesco.
Støttrup Joianne Gatt, interview at DTU
Nature isn’t real, Timothy Morton, lecture
“Being and Time, Martin Heidegger, 1935,
Nature isn’t real, Timothy Morton, lecture
Towards an Ecology of Tectonics, CINARK,
Essays on the Anthropology of Reason, Paul
org Aqua, October 15th 2018 given in Brussels, September 2016 page 79 given in Brussels, September 2016 October 2012 Rabinow, 1996, page 108
Derrida and Other Animals, The Boundaries of Human, Judith Still, 2015, page 10
The question therefore arises regarding both the nature and the human relationship with nature which are advertised in the future Geopark. The idea of excellence in nature seems completely absurd. Why is some nature more worthy of ‘protecting’ than other? Why do we dictate and map out an area that delimitates it? What happens to the nature that is not ‘protected’ by the Geopark? These interrogations are extremely relevant as they positions us in the new geological epoch of the Anthropocene. The Anthropocene, a term popularised by atmospheric chemist and Nobel laureate Paul Crutzen in 2000, is characterised by the irrefutable impact humans have on the Earth’s geological, atmospherical, biospherical and hydrological system processes and where no part of the environment has been left untouched. When politicians and residents of the South Funen Archipelago use the term nature, they are describing a manmade, nurtured and planned nature. This narrative, of mis-selling an artificial nature for human benefit, pervades the Geopark project but is by no means unique to it and originates from our relationship with nature and the natural environment: we perceive it as ‘something over there’, as ‘something else’, subordinating it to us. Rethinking what constitutes nature and understanding how intimately related we as humans are to it is a vital step in progressing environmental conversation.
The current depiction of nature, that we as humans have, puts it on a pedestal, it distances and separates it from us and obstructs our way of interacting intimately with other non-human beings. In Ecology Without Nature, Timothy Morton presents us with the idea that in order to advance environmental thinking, it is crucial to let go of the idea of nature all together. Our conception of nature arose in Greek humanism and can be seen in the romantic movement, where philosophers like Rousseau saw nature as a pristine ‘other’ element and as somewhere to escape to. “Ecological awareness forces us to notice that nature is an anthropocentrically-scaled concept that to say the least does not work anymore. […] There is a sharp difference between the real and “reality,” or our sense of realness. Our human, agricultural and neoliberal reality is now violently impeding less coercive relationships with nonhuman beings. Less coercive relations with non-humans would also give rise to less coercive ones between humans”. Nature is a compromised concept and instead we should contemplate co-existing with our natural environment. Through attempts at preserving nature and reversing our actions, we have slowly become aware of how much we are part of our natural environment. The definition presented at the beginning of this essay, describes nature as everything opposed to humans and human creations. To critically examine this definition, is to recognise that it is outdated. In future centuries, geologists will be able to find evidence of our impact on the planet through examining the layers of rock. There will be a rise of carbon dioxyde in the atmosphere, as well as signs of radioactive particles and fossilised plastic, some of which have already been detected in the strata forming our landscapes. Nature is therefore, the phenomena of the physical world collectively. This concerns plants, animals, and landscapes, as well as humans or human creations. Once we appreciate this interdependence, then the idea of a single and detached thing called nature becomes redundant.
Although more commonly studied in the realms of philosophy, Object Oriented Ontology (OOO) can be looked at through an architectural lens and used to inform us, as designers and makers of objects, on how we chose to value and prioritise the context in which things are placed as well as how they may function. In OOO, if something exists, then it exists in the same way as everything else, this is referred to as a flat ontology. Observing Jakob von Uexkull’s A Foray Into the Worlds of Animals and Humans: With A Theory of Meaning, we can begin to understand that architectural objects have numerous properties. Uexkull is particularly interested in how species perceive their surroundings and believes that they experience life within inner worlds of the bigger ecosystems they find themselves in, which he calls umwelt. Every object has a different meaning and use depending on the umwelt of the user. In Being and Time, Heidegger writes that objects’ qualities are not specific to the objects themselves and only begin to have a purpose when relative to something else. “To let something be relevant means to […] let them be as they are and in order that they be such”. Both Uexkull and Heidegger explain that objects can be present in two or more umwelten, and it is the object’s complete subjectivity that allows it to connect together different umwelten. We should, as architects, consider more thoroughly the implications of our designs to our relative contexts, aesthetically, globally and ecologically, across a wider range of perspectives. More often than not, our creations only speak to us and should instead be more robust and strive to actively engage and bridge the lives of a variety of organisms. Our worlds must be perforated in order to share them with other beings. Architecture should not be perceived as the mastery of life and nature but instead, enable relationships between itself and life, between human and non-human objects.
In order to build and design a world where nature can live alongside man-made constructions, it is imperative to focus on the consequences of our way of interacting with our surrounding environments. Doing so may enable us to be more aware of the interdependency between parts and wholes, between the life of an individual and the natural environment it finds itself in. “The whole is always less than the sum of its parts”. The understanding of the link between the welfare of the individual and the interest in the protection of the environment forms the foundation of eco-tectonics and ecological thinking. To build with different scales of users in mind, means accommodating one structure for a variety of beings. Just like Heidegger and Uexkull suggested, creating architectural objects with several life cycles, allows us to view ourselves as decentred actors. An architecture which is based on tectonic principals, allows viewers to understand the way in which it has been made, by revealing each small component as well as their assembly in an overall structure. Eco-tectonics, suggests a thorough study of nature in order to integrate the idea of “buildings as parts tied together as a whole in a broader context of natural systems”. This way of thinking brings to light the link between the materials chosen and the ecosystems in which they sit in, developing a new ethical principle in the practice of architecture and tectonics.
In symbiosis it is impossible to establish which being is the host and which being is the parasite. Animals are commonly perceived to be without social capacities, such as language and memory, and are generally understood to be without architecture, even though many creatures have been found to have variations of it. Architecture, as discussed previously, has the potential to involve its surroundings in its design and function. Working and designing with non-humans is a challenge facing architecture and the development of humans in general. Moving away from a desire to build for animals and rather build with them, illustrates our willingness to promote a more inclusive and animated architectural discourse. As it stands today, architecture is not thought of as living; in every scenario it excludes life. “Nature has not been natural, in the sense of pure and untouched by human works, for millennia. More provocatively nature’s malleability offers an invitation to the artificial”. Under the current system of building regulations and law, nature is considered to be property, a treatment which bestows upon the owner the right over ecosystems and nature on that land. In order to address problems arising with Climate Change, we must start to recognise that natural communities and ecosystems are entities that have an independent right to exist and flourish. Animals and ecosystems have the power to influence and inform the choice of site and design of buildings, and subsequently involve our design in a larger natural environment. A post-humanist architecture could provide a platform for visitors to engage in conversations with other animals and organisms, instead of simply being restricted to the design of space for a particular program. It is therefore vital that future architects explore design as a solution to the problems which emerge from a polyspecies environment.
“The animal, what a word! The animal is a word, it is an appellation that men have instituted, a name they have given themselves the right and the authority to give to another living creature”. The act of naming non-human as animals or our surrounding environment as nature is incredibly deceptive in its reductive simplicity. The formulation of such words in fact, highlights the complexities in human/non-human relations. Drawing from Jacques Derrida’s writings, animals, like nature, cannot be defined as something opposed to humans. It is imperative that our perception of other living beings change and that we abandon the notion of them as an ‘other’. Our arrogance in thinking we hold authority over nature and anything non-human is dated and is only made to be possible through the practice of language. In the context of the Anthropocene, the South Funen Archipelago must discard it’s urge to commodify and order nature for purely economic gains. The arguments presented in this piece do not reject the Geopark’s environmental agenda, instead they question its authenticity. There is no longer anything ‘natural’ about the landscape that can be found in the area and ignoring this allows us to engage only superficially with our surrounding ecosystems. If the South Funen Archipelago seeks to use nature as part of its rebranding, it should instead place itself at the centre of a new environmental discussion with a more thorough acknowledgment and understanding of ecologies, as well as aim to challenge our basic understand of the world. The four municipalities’ and residents’ should aspire to finding ways in which living alongside/coexisting with nature can become an interaction from which no being suffers/which does not detrimentally impact other beings/nature. Our designs and built environment must be part of a progressive ecological discussion which begins including everyone. As we move forward, it is possible to envisage a world where objects and spaces are designed for non-humans, where human interaction and shelter is abandoned completely and where the needs of other beings is considered a priority. A new posthuman argument considers removing humans from the centre of every discourse and that a broader idea of life should be considered as what a citizen can be. 102 103
Time Witness: an architectural adaptation to new climate conditions Johanne Marie Skalle, CITA, KADK
The behaviour of a moving ground My architectural intent is an investigation of adaptation and how our built environment might react to a landscape in change. The architecture exists in the meeting between artefact and a constantly moving terrain where the buildingâ€™s shifting footprint leaves marks and traces of itself within the ground. The purpose of the scheme is to reveal the slow changes taking place through architecture. The arctic region is more vulnerable to global warming than elsewhere. The changes are happening faster and in a much larger scale. Here, the abnormal becomes normal. In this environment I have developed a visitors centre. In Svalbard most of the ground is in a state of permafrost. A stable topoclimate is vital to sustaining the permafrost. However, the case today is different. The annual air temperature is increasing and threatens its stability. The permafrost is thawing. The surface layer in which the ground both thaws and freezes, is called the active layer. In the sloping sites of Svalbard, the soil gradually starts moving and creeps into new deposits.
My architectural approach has been to see the opportunities in the current situation at Svalbard and find the natural forces beneficial to explore a new type of architecture. Through adaptation my focus has moved from static - to try to make a dynamic architecture. To design with the contextual conditions in Svalbard I made a machine (the syrup machine) that were able to simulate the behaviour of a moving ground. I established a research gap and transferred a method common in the field of geology and made it productive in my design process. Through a series of different slideshows several iterations were made in order to design a proposal for a moving visitor centre in the timespan of 300 years.
ET RITUELT SAMLINGSSTED Sofie Højgaard, KADK
From top to bottom: Foreningsritual Bad Invielsesritual
Connections: Establishing an Architecture of Interrelations Sean Lyon, Studio 2B, AARCH 3XN Travel Grant + Casapoli Residency Grant
There is a deep and fervent desire in the human species to understand our place in the universe — to locate our existence within the cosmos. Is there a connection between the regularity of heavenly phenomena and the events on Earth? Can we understand ourselves by observing the clock-like motions of the planets, the sun and the moon? Where do we come from? Can we become at one with the universe? These are the kinds of questions asked by ancient cultures for millennia. Philosophers and mathematicians sought to describe the motions of the heavenly bodies as a mechanical and predictable system — everything is interrelated and everything influences everything else.
During the Age of Discovery, there was a pressing need for increasingly more accurate star charts and measurements of solar and lunar cycles to aid in navigation. In doing so, what was once thought of as a fixed, rational and geocentric universe was revealed to be variable, irrational and heliocentric. This period marked a time when/where we went from a mythical and qualitative universe, to a scientific and quantitative cosmos — divorced of god and unconcerned with human existence. In our modern urbanized world the night sky has made way for artificial lights, tall buildings and increasingly airborne traffic. Light pollution obscures all but the brightest of stars and smog further hinders the passage of light from the sky. The architecture outlined in this thesis project is an attempt to re-establish a connection between the body and the heavens. By framing stellar moments, inducing bodily movements, and initiating questions about where we are in the universe, the aim is to rekindle this ancient desire for a spiritual connection with the night sky. This project takes on a secular approach to this goal — I wish not to rely on pre-established mythologies, folklore, religions or faiths, but instead to work with the night sky itself and what it has to offer. Taking historical interpretations of the nature of space as a departure point, and translate contemporary ideas and theories into an architecture of the body. It would be up to the visitors themselves to interpret the cosmos and to draw from their conclusions about our place and relationship with the stars.
The Cosmos is full beyond measure of elegant truths; of exquisite interrelationships;
of the awesome machinery of nature. -------- Carl Sagan
The island of Hven located in the Øresund Strait was once home of the great Danish astronomer Tycho Brahe. The small island is surrounded by the large cities of Copenhagen, Malmö, Helsingør and Helsingborg — it is connected, yet isolated. This thesis proposes a series of pavilions located across the island. The visitor goes on a journey – starting with the sun setting on the West coast and then traversing through a network of installations, each of which telling a different story. Each of these pavilions instigates a movement of the body — directing views, inviting the visitor to sit in a certain position, inducing a path of travel — in order to reconnect the human body to the night sky. By the end of the journey with the sun rising over the East coast, the visitor have acquired new knowledge and a new insight into the nature of space, time and place within the cosmos. KÅRK
The architecture outlined in this thesis was designed with the aid of a bespoke digital toolset written for the project â€“ a toolset that I have released for free. The Nightingale Grasshopper plugin is now available to download so that architects, designers and artists may design with the night sky in mind. KĂ…RK
A Place for Exposing Darkness Mads Juul Krogshede and Stine Dines Schmidt, Studio 3, AARCH
for exposing darkness N
It takes approximately 45 minutes for the human eye to develop total night vision. Exposure to any light, that is not dim and red, will require a re-adaptation. We rarely reach this state of sensitivity. As a consequence the night is often associated with complete absence of light. In the city-fabric, darkness remains solely as punctures in a luminous environment of dappled colours and soft shadows - voids we cannot enter since our senses cannot adapt to let us in. There is nothing new about humans trying to conquer the day by extending it into the night, but the conquest has come to an extent where the natural night sky is disappearing due to light pollution. The few exceptionally dark areas that remain are now trending as tourist destinations. In many ways, what is even more frightening than the dark is that this thesis project can be justified.
The thesis project â€œA Place for Exposing Darknessâ€? is an attempt to gain night vision and for a moment neglect daylight-architecture with its hunger for direction, spatial continuity and sleek surfaces. The invented program is a visiting center on the island of Nyord (DK): offering a bodily reunification with the night through two landscape-interventions and a place for accommodation. The project is developed through site-specific investigations, testing 1:1 textures, 1:50 design, 1:30.000 landscape simulations and references found mainly in local initiatives and nomadic traditions. 128
The perception of Darkness - from dusk to dawn
In the natural night, darkness is not just a void in the day - it is a gradient following the phases of the moon. It begins by dawn and ends with dusk - inbetween a world in grayscale unfolds with only fragments and silhouettes for the eyes to see. The reduced vision, sets aside the ocular sense as the predominant to be accompanied by the entire sensory system. A sensuous state making intuition more valid than experience. Our relationship to darkness is full of ambiguity. We admire it. We are afraid of it. The project identify two overall perceptions of darkness to translate it into physical spaces. Darkness as phenomenon is when we approach the nightscape as spectators of the infinite night sky. The depth of the night sky provides a new comparison of scale, setting earth and body in external relation, making us feel vastness and decentralisation.
With stars literally being celestial projections of time, spectating them, gives rise to wonder - permitting reflections that is beyond our lifetime and thus aspire thoughts of possible futures. In the project this perception is architecturally interpreted as vertical connections, suspended space, limitless space, space for wondering, space for viewing. Darkness as state refers to the body in the nocturnal landscape. This is when darkness takes form as a mass - a dark mist, surrounding our bodies so we fumble to trust our senses, in this condition we look into the vast darkness and search for the familiar. It is the rational idea of the physical reality dissolved in a loss of spatial orientation. We get uncertain of its depth, its movement - maybe we even start to fear the possibility of if it penetrating us. Complementary to “darkness as a phenomenon”, this perception is very closely bound to the present, that manistate itself in a ubiquitous moment. In the thesis “darkness as state” is architecturally interpreted as horizontal connections, intimate space, limited space, space for wandering, space for sensing.
A vertical and a horizontal Landscape narrative The nocturnal landscape has a complex nature, being suspended between terrestrial and celestial scale. Liquid and solid, porous and dense, near and far - are all characters of the landscape transforming completely at night. In the project, Nyord is reinterpreted as a nocturnal landscape, described as:
Islands and bridges The wet salt-meadow and the higher moraine seems as an inverted archipelago with grass as dark undefined mass surrounding mirror streams and waterholes. The islands are connected to land by a narrow bridge, that becomes the main road branching of as paths to built areas. The bridge stands out, as a light grey line cutting through the dark grounds. The salt-meadow is divided by straight paths in the ground - traces from when it was cultivated and divided into lots. Whenever the still present lines are cutting through the streams they become footbridges. Clouds The flatness of the landscape makes the horizon clearly visible from most places, it marks the shift between dark- and lighter grey, punctured by trees and light-pollution from distant cities. Both appears as formations of clouds. Trees as fuzzy vertical ones and the light-pollution as floating yellow ones breaking the otherwise monochromatic environment.
Fragments into a whole The project identifies three â€œanchor pointsâ€? - interventions on higher grounds situated in a triangulation, connected by suspended strips of landscape. Each of these functions as an architectural-device that all together act as a constellation of fragments making up a whole. Not a visual whole, but an experience of the nocturnal landscape as a spatial whole. The interrelation can be visual, haptic, referential and altogether a journey through the experience of darkness as a phenomenon and darkness as state. The edge of the anchor points are impermanent. Due to floods and rising sea levels they shift between being land and islands. The transformation happens seasonally, but moving towards becoming permanent islands within a decade. In the far future the anchor points will become a memory of the landscape that where. Islands of remembrance surrounded by the forgotten land.
Nomadistic traditions The landscape-interventions are thought of as structures that will act as monoliths for the future. By thinking of lifetime-expectancy the structures consists of coexisting spatial intentions. One intervention rises from the landscape and allow for broad orientation that reveal the contours of the landscape. The long-lasting part of the construction will leave a vertical element in the landscape. Referencing to the concept of a menhir - a stone raised like a column, functioning as point of orientation. The other intervention that provides a gatheringpoint, that emphasizes vertical and horizontal connections in the landscape. The fragility of its context makes it inaccessible seasonally and in the far future, it will be flooded; first isolated on an island then half way under water. The entire construction is long lasting, but the building process as well, referencing to a stone cairn, a vernacular way of marking a point in the landscape over time.
openings isonometrical collage: ”the wall”
Sensible sustainability? How can this project have any impact on light-pollution? It does not change the urban overexposure! The core of the problem is that we manipulate our circadian rhythm as desired. We are lifted above the natural light. The premise for this project is to obey the natural condition. But to be real, who believes in anyone fumbling around in dark apartments or gathering with their neighbors to enjoy the blue hour from a courtyard? menhir
collage: ”the ladder”
At the same time the project strives to create impact in a bigger time perspective by approaching lifetime-expectancies of materiality through tectonic and programmatic solutions while placing the build strategically in the impermanent landscape, not only as a completed entity, but already through the building process.
collage: ”the frame”
Even though it is documented that light-pollution damages species and health. It seems too ephemeral to take action?!
A reason could be that climate issues are abstract to approach. Impact and consequences often stretch across vast scales. It seems impossible to challenge comfort and change behavior without trends and laws, which is why the discurs is now changed into a story of tragedy. This project do not envision the architect to invent a quickfix to turn this tragedy into a comedy. Instead it is the belief that through a connectedness to the natural nocturnal environment, a bodily rootedness is established. It is the belief that architecture can facilitate the inhabitation of the otherwise limitless space and complex rhythms in time. The experience might led to reunification - to see the power of intuition and ones sensuous capacity. KÅRK
collage: ”the ladder”
collage: ”the frame”
Sailing into GrenĂĽ Huiru Huang, Studio 1A, AARCH
Kolindsund, an area of 14,000 hectares ,is located in Djursland, Denmark. It was born as sea, once drained to be farmland, is now going to be water again as the sea level is estimated to rise at least 2.5 meters by 2050 due to climate change. These great geographical changes over time is perfectly described by the Chinese phrase â€˜cang hai sang tianâ€™. Facing this challenge, this project aims to embrace the changes and revive the original marine identity of Kolindsund. This geographic change can be viewed as an opportunity to open up the land, bring new water connection. By introducing the Danish sailing tradition back to this area, better accessibility will be provided to the surrounding towns including Grenaa, Kolind and other small settlements. Grenaa harbour, the entrance of Grenaa canal which connects Kolindsund with the sea, is chosen as the project site for further design developemt.
Vision of Kolindsund: Flooded Farms & trees as landscape
To remain the traces of change, certain afforestation is to be planned periodically as the prediction of sea rise level. Part of the flooded farms will be kept in place and transformed into monument, art installation or boat camping site, market on water etc. This monumental landscape seeks to alarm us of the changing climate and urge actions to protect our land. 136
NAVIGATING IN FLOODED KOLINDSUND
This map shows the transportation in Kolindsund in three ways. By car, by train and as the new proposal, by boats. By bringing sailing transportation into the new lake Kolindsund, the area in and around the lake becomes more accessible. Even some flooded buildings, like farms, will gain new access via sailing after losing the road connection, have the potential to become part of the navigation system as well as churches. This will also provide Kolind more possibility and strengthen the connection between GrenĂĽ and Kolind as one region around the lake.
Vision of Grenaa Harbour Grenaa harbour is the entrance to Kolindsund lake from the sea, the buffer bay between the sea and the canal, the meeting point of sea and land. Thus, it plays an important role for the whole marine vision of Kolindsund. It consists of three main elements: urban post-industrial harbour, natural wetland coast and artificial marine island, each with its own strong identity.
A Forest Island for living and working The quality of living here at the Grenna harbor comes from living in the â€˜forestâ€™ close to the sea with a good connection to the city. To qualify each house with a sense of living by the water, waterways consisting of ponds and streams are introduced. The whole island is a forest with openings of building clusters connected by waterways, while at the edges, buildings are facing the sea directly.
Each cluster consists of three to five houses surrounding a courtyard with big trees and a pond. The pond collects and purifies rainwater and is connected by streams leading the water into the sea. To better collect the surface rainwater and to give a more natural feeling, the edge of those courtyard ponds are naturalized. But to keep the urban feeling in public space, the ponds next to plazas are framed with a clean hard edge. This waterway not only brings a water feeling to houses, collects rainwater, but also act as view guide as the sea is visible at the end if people look along the streams. At the north edge of the island, office buildings are rising 3- 4 stores high among the trees, looking over the water to the industrial harbor at the other side. This provides the possibility to live and work on this forested island, experiencing different harbor feelings in daily life. KĂ…RK
The Coast Walk The coast was a dune. While with the sea level rise, the coast is partly flooded, creating a changing wet landscape. Forestation strategy is used here to keep the soil to protect the coastline and create a dynamic coastal landscape. Some openings along the wetland are created in the forest. A simple walk path in concrete defines the dryer wetland forest and the more flexibly flooded dune coast, at the same time protects the inner city from flooding. The path starts with a deck for shuttle boat, which marks the historical entrance of Grenaa canal, circles around the bay and ends at a viewing deck pointing to the further sea.
A Blue Marina to access the sea The marina, of which the main function usually is for people to keep their boats, is also a dream place to live, for those who are passionate sailors or enjoy so much the sea view that they want to live really close by the sea and watch the boats. It is also a destination for people to have easy access to the sea, to bath, to walk, to eat, to drink, to buy fresh seafood, or just to watch. The marina is shaped as a circle, in responce to the straight edge of the post-industrial harbor and the organic edge of the dune beach embracing it. The piers are embraced by a row of tree, with boats lining up neatly. The only connection with the mainland is a bridge. At the end of the bridge is the fish market with a good connection to both the city and the pier. Restaurants, bars and hotel are provided here for recreation. Along the outer edge lines up a row of pitch-roof houses with great sea view and easy private access to the sea. At the side facing the inner land, people have easy access to the calm sea through decks and bath. Seventeen plots are planned as houseboats for alternative living.
Hershey Fishing Pavilion Kristian Knorr, Studio 3, AARCH
Located in Hershey, a former industrial town on the north coast of Cuba, the fishing pavilion utilizes an aquacultural system to generate an economic foundation for the social spaces it is offering the community. Three courtyards made of rammed earth form the social and structural cores of the structure. Their different sizes and neighboring functions offer different uses and levels of privacy. The pavilion is managed by the Hershey Aquaculture Cooperative which is owned by the inhabitants of Hershey who have been involved in the construction process and the maintenance of the structure. The pavilion is constructed of old rail tracks and soil available in the immediate surroundings of the project site.
SEASONAL COURTYARD Once per year Basin 2 will be harvested and emptied of water. This will leave the basin empty of water for a week and the annual “Dia del pesca”, an event celebrating the harvest, will be conducted as a giant feast after sunset within the basin. After being dry for one week the basin will be filled again to be used as a pool for inhabitants and tourist over the four hottest summer months and the start of the hurricane season.
FISH BASINS To ensure a healthy population of fish the basins will host a polyculture. The five different species of fish have been chosen due to their different feeding habits and in their relation to the other fish in the basins. While Basin 1 and 3 are triennial, Basin 2 will be harvested and emptied once per year due to the fast growth of tilapia and giant freshwater prawns.
FACADES Due to the sun-shading vegetation on the southern facades, approaching the pavilion from the North will be drastically different than from the South. Tourist approaching the North-East facade will have the entire structure exposed. Locals approaching the South-East facade will see a structure blocked by trees and covered in climbing plants.
VÆRKET En håndværksefterskole ved Nivaavgaard Teglværk Signe Bay Bøgh Larsen, Kulturarv Transformation og Restaurering, KADK
Det at kunne mestre et håndværk er noget ganske særligt, og det har jeg altid været fascineret af. Det at kunne skabe, formgive og opbygge med sine hænder er utroligt dragende, og personligt har jeg selv svært ved at sidde stille med hænderne i skødet, for jeg har lyst til at tilegne mig ny viden gennem mine hænder.
Desværre er det en realitet, at flere traditionelle håndværk er uddøende, og tilgangen til erhvervsuddannelserne har i flere år været faldende i vores højere grad fremadskuende, akademiserede videnssamfund. Men som den græske filosof, Anaxagoras, hævder ‘... er det menneskets hænder, som gør os til det mest intelligente dyr’. Lige præcis derfor må vi heller ikke glemme den tavse viden, som vores samfunds kloge hænder besidder. For mister vi vores rige håndværkstraditioner, vil vi stå kulturfattige tilbage. Den evige effektivisering og optimering i den maskinelle og teknologiske udvikling har medført en tendens til at nedprioritere den unikke kvalitetsmæssige substans og den generelle ressourcebevidsthed, som tidligere har eksisteret. I kølvandet af det er ‘brug-og-smidvæk’-kulturen opstået, hvor kvaliteten ikke længere kan overdøve med sit ‘Less is More’. ‘‘Valodia’’ står der smedet i jern på det gule hus i Vejenbrød, landsbyen jeg er opvokset i. Navnet gemmer på en helt specielt historie om ”særlingen” i landsbyen. I fortællingen lyder det, at han hver dag kørte med sin trillebør til teglværkerne i nærheden. Her samlede han kasserede mursten, teglsten og andre teglprodukter, som han lidt efter lidt byggede sit hus af. Landsbybeboerne lo af ham, for hvad nyttede én trillebør kasserede sten om dagen til et helt hus? De var vel kasserede af en grund?
at være ressourcebevidst med et mål for øje, uanset hvor lang og bugtet vejen er. Så ”hvad-lo-de-af”? I strandkanten i Nivå vidner murstenene blandt muslingerne om en svunden tid. Murstenene er rundslebne efter årtiers dansen i bølgernes evige bevægelse. På stierne i naturreservaterne og i skoven træder man på flere mursten end sten af granit, flint eller kridt. Byen er forlængst vokset uden om lergravene, nu er de store smukke søer, og flere navne på gader og bebyggelser afledt af en tidligere industri afslører dog stadig egnens fortid. I et område, hvor bysamfundet er opstået af en skelsættende industri, har ikke mindre end 27 teglværker i Karlebo Kommune gennem tiden produceret teglstensprodukter og derved sat sit aftryk. Men teglværkerne, der førhen markerede sig i landskabsbilledet med deres karakteristiske høje skorstene og de monotome dominerende tørreladers tagflader, er jævnet med jorden. Håndværksmestrene har forlængst holdt fyraften, ovnene er slukket og de sidste sten borttransporteret. Sporene fra produktionen udviskes og slettes konstant, og den trehundrede-årige lange fortælling er hos mange gået i glemmebogen. Som et punkt i horisonten står Nivaagaard Teglværk tilbage som det eneste velbevarede industrimonument i omegnen men frataget sin oprindelige funktion. Bygningerne er fastfrosset i deres fortid, og den fre-
Fra folkefortællingen ‘‘De tre små grise’’ er det børnelærdom, at bygninger af mursten besidder en vis robusthed, og det gule hus står således stadig mange årtier senere. I virkeligheden går historien om Valodia egentligt ud på
dede ringovn og de tilhørende tørrelader står tilbage som artefakter i et sjældent åbent teglværksmuseum. Disse bygninger står indlemmet et kulturmiljøområde med sine lergrave mod nord, tidligere udskibningsmole mod øst 150
og Nivaagaard Malerisamling mod syd. Håndværksmestrene har ikke længere deres gang på stedet, og teglværket står på trods af sine voluminøse bygninger hengemt og glemt som tavse bygninger. Men på deres egen sofistikeret måde formår de dog stadig at synge. Materialernes egenskaber dikterer arkitekturen, deres stoflige virkninger skaber atmosfæren, der tilsammen stadfæster strukturerne til deres helt særlige karakteristika. Konstruktionerne vidner i deres samlingspunkter om en intellektuel håndværksmæssig dygtighed, hvor løsninger, foruden materialemæssige og tektoniske kvaliteter, også besidder en æstetisk holdbarhed. Egenskaber som disse er vigtige at tage hånd om, så vores bygninger står som stærke bæredygtige robuste elementer. Min intention har derfor været at skabe et nyt VÆRK. Et samlingspunkt der former rammerne for en håndværksmæssig læringsproces gennem praksis, der samtidigt kan bevare og formidle Nivaagaard Teglværks kulturarv som et levende minde gennem et aktivt miljø. Et værk der vil kunne bidrage til lokalsamfundet men også have mulighed for at indgå som et tandhjul i det nationale maskineri. Derfor har jeg transformeret Nivaagaard Teglværk til en håndværksefterskole, der kan være med til at præge vores samfunds unge, inden de skal vælge, hvilken livsvej de vil gå.
Skjult bag hegn og højt bevoksning vidner Nivaagaard Teglværks bygninger stadig med deres robuste arkitektoniske finesser om en epokegørende industriel periode.
TRANSFORMATION Teglværksgrunden er i dag opdelt i to - gennemskåret af kulturmiljøafgrænsningen. På den ene side favner museet de ældste og arkitektonisk mest interessante bygninger, hvor den anden side huser de nyeste teglværksbygninger, en trælasthandel og en mindre distributionsvirksomhed. I den nærmeste fremtid vil også disse bygninger blive funktionstømte, og jeg har derfor valgt at se på området i sin helhed. På teglværksgrunden har bygningsvolumenernes placering ændret sig gennem århundrede. Tydeligst ses betydningen af distributionsvejene fra tipvognssporerne til udskibningsmolen mod sydvest, der blev erstattet af jernbanen og senere landevejen mod nordvest. (rigtige placering ift. tekst?) Da alle bygningerne er produkter af en funktionsbetinget arkitektur, har jeg valgt at opdele bygningerne i tre konstruktive typologier: nemlig stablingen, sammenføjningen og støbningen. Stablingens konstruktionsprincip gør sig gældende i de murede bygninger samt Ringovnens base. Vognporten, Smedjen og Forvalterboligen står alle i tegl enten som blank mur eller hvidkalket. I modsætning til dette findes sammenføjningens konstruktionsprincip, der ses i Traversladen og Storrums-tørreladens åbne lette tømmerkonstruktion. Disse førnævnte bygninger har alle en høj bevaringsværdi, hvorimod Ringovnen er fredet. Til sidst er at finde støbningens konstruktionsprincip, som er repræsenteret i Tunnelovnens betonstruktur, som tillader bygningens store spænd.
Stablingens konstruktionsprincip er representeret i overstående bygninger: (øverst til nederst:) Smedjen, Ringovnen og Vognporten. Traversladen åbne struktur er det tydligt at se sammenføjningens konstruktionsprincip (til venstre).
Tunnelovnens mere end hundrede meter lange facade består af en base i gul tegl og et øvre vinduesbånd. De Røde Lader har samme betonstruktur men er beklædt med træ. Disse sidstnævnte bygninger har alle en lav bevaringsværdi, og jeg har derfor valgt at lade disse transformere med fokus på Tunnelovnen. De resterende bygninger som tæller Kasseføderhuset, Maskinhallen, Tørrehuset, Folkestuen og Højladen, har jeg på baggrund af en analyse og værdisætning valgt at fjerne fra området pga. manglende arkitektoniske kvaliteter og dårlige tekniske tilstande. På baggrund af de tre typologier har jeg opmålt, undersøgt og studeret henholdsvis Ringovnen, Traversladen og Tunneloven. Ringovnen står solidt funderet med sin massive base i tegl, hvor den ydre trækonstruktions hæftning på basen tillader et øvre åbent rum. Traversladens står modsat som en let åben struktur, hvor teglsten tidligere har kunnet tørre. De taktfaste fag er åben til kip og har et bredt udhæng, som har sikret en optimal tørringsproces. Tunnelovnen har fungeret som en beskyttende skal for den indre ovn. Betonkonstruktionen er det bærende element, som på et bindingsværkshus er mellemrummene udfyldt med murede tavl. Derudover er de højtsiddende vinduer og tagets lave hældning karakteristisk. Jeg har valgt at transformere den tidligere industribygning fra produktionshal til en bygning, der kan rumme ophold og beboelse for efterskoleeleverne, hvilket
har stillet krav til bygningens eksisterende tekniske tilstand og energiforhold. Gennem en energioptimering er kun den eksisterende betonkonstruktion, det indre betongulv samt den nederste del af teglmuren bevaret. Særligt tagfladerne har givet teglværkerne deres karakteristiske træk, og ved transformationen af Tunnelovnen har jeg ligeledes lagt vægt på tagets udseende og dets betydning for værkets helhed. I en nyfortolkning har jeg valgt at videreføre Traversladens brede udhæng og åben til kippen, der giver bygningen sine karakteristiske træk. Det brede udhæng beskytter bygningen mod det værste nedbør og den kraftigste sol. Det store tagvindue tillader direkte lys til øverste etage. Ved at bevare den eksisterende, bærende betonkonstruktion er den ydre, isolerende skal blot en sekundær ‘let’ tømmerkonstruktion, der fæstnes på den massive teglbase. På samme måde er teglbasen en nytolkning af ringovnens konstruktive opbygning. Et nyt lag tilføjes til den eksisterende teglmur, hvor den isolerende porothermblok skjules af en ydre teglsten. Ved ankomsten til VÆRKET mødes blikket af de lange volumener og den høje skorsten i baggrunden. Fortsætter man ind i anlægget, mødes man af den første bygning, som huser reception, auditorium, festsal og udstillingsmuligheder. På modsatte side befinder Tunnelovnen sig, hvor der i grundplan findes rum til ophold og almindelig undervisning, studieområder, mindre værksteder, bibliotek samt en spisesal med køkken.
På 1.sal findes værelser til eleverne med praktiske faciliteter. Fra spisesalen har man mulighed for at bevæge sig udenfor på det store indre gårdsplads. De Røde Lader overfor indeholder grovere værksteder med større maskinel. Her opbevares ligeledes materialer som tømmer, mursten og andet byggemateriale. Vognporten kan bruges til almindelig undervisning eller gæstelærerbolig, hvor Forvalterboligen bliver indrettet til bolig til den faste lærerstab. De resterende bygninger tilføjes ikke nye funktioner men har mulighed for at indgå i en undervisningssammenhæng. Håndværksefterskolen er tiltænkt at kunne rumme hundrede elever, som påny vil kunne give puste liv i området og samtidigt vil være istand til at gribe fat i den fremstrakte hånd, vores samfunds kloge hænder rækker frem. Jeg har forsøgt at efterleve budskabet om, at ‘‘Less is more’’. I en videreudvikling af proportionerne, nøjsomheden og det forsvarlige materialeforbrug har jeg forsøgt at lytte til de ‘‘tavse bygninger’’. Gennem denne transformation håber jeg derved, at Nivaagaard Teglværk en dag får sin stemme igen og vil være i stand til at kunne skrive flere kapitler til sin rige historie.
Værket, Nivaagaard Teglværk Fremtidige forhold
21.05.2019 Signe Bay Bøgh Larsen
Plan af fremtidige forhold i Tunnelovnen. Værket, Nivaagaard Teglværk Fremtidige forhold
21.05.2019 Signe Bay Bøgh Larsen
Udsnit med undervisningslokaler og materialebibliotek, og spisesal.
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This is the essence of our AART approach – recently manifested in our winning proposal for the transformation of the Southern harbour in Aarhus, where we before sketching any building have engaged with local artists, entrepreneurs, homeless and business people – all with the aim to grow city life from the bottom up. Check out our internship programme and see what we have on offer at www.aart.dk
THE SOUTHERN HARBOUR IN AARHUS / OUR WINNING TEAM
Creating great architecture starts with asking why, and challenging the ordinary. It’s not just about creating beautiful buildings, but about passionately striving to improve how people live, learn, and work – and all the things in between.
A. ENGGAARD • AART ARCHITECTS • SCHMIDT HAMMER LASSEN • LABLAND • RUM3 STUDIO
Are you ready to grow city life from the bottom up?
EDITORS Kaisa Hjort Kristensen Jens Rudolf Ugelstad
LAYOUT Jenny Bjerketvedt Huiru Huang
EDITORIAL TEAM Helene Selmer Brøndsted Nanna Bonne Jensen Ida Jespersen Ida Houmann Johansen Karoline Bonde Larsen Asta Wittrup Lindenborg Clara Troldborg Ohmann Lisa Sawada Petersen Marius Wold
EDITORS Dzifa Bravie Mia Christina Forslund
EDITORIAL TEAM Anna Louise Damgaard Jensen Annemette Juel Anders Rovsing Kristiansen Kaja Dons Petrusson Victor Buch Rasmussen Jens Marcus Røisi
FORMAT 200 x 265 mm PAPER Cover Content pages
300 g Offset 120 g Offset
TYPOGRAPHY Times New Roman Helvetica PRINT Clemenstrykkeriet Issues: 1400 November 2019
Arkitektskolen Aarhus Nørreport 20 8000 Aarhus C Det Kongelige Danske Kunstakademis Skoler for Arkitektur, Design og Konservering Philip De Langes Allé 10 1435 København K
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