Thesis Book

Wall Perceived, Wall Projected:the Dialogue of Experience

Stavroula E. Birmbas-VendouriWentworth Institute of TechnologyMaster of Architecture 2013

To my advisor Professor Dan Hisel that put up with my crazy ideas and pushed me out of my comofort zone,to my secondary advisor Professor Lois Ascher that challenged my methodologies and way of thinking,to my friends and colleagues that listened to me ramble on and on about experience and memory,and to my family for pushing me to be the best i can be,

thank you.

introductionabstractmethodologyrecyclewalldefineabstractmakeperceivebumpkinmemorynarrativeexperienceappendixprocess workliterature reviewbibliography

Primary advisor: Professor Dan HiselSecondary advisor: Professor Lois Ascher

Wentworth Institute of TechnologyMaster of Architecture 2013


the multi-faceted and fast paced lives we are forced to live are driven by a society of change and multi-tasking. architecture has fallen victim to these distractions, therefore widening the gap between experiencing space through personal engagement. articulating space in a way that heightens cognitive experience allows each user to perceive space in a very personal manner, often evoking emotions and reactions relating to memories. the engagement of personal memory allows a space to speak to architecture’s true poetic nature, thus freeing us from the chaos of our daily routines.


a process of intuitive making and thinking has fueled this investigation of experience in architecture to understand how language and built forms are perceived through cognitive and spacial interaction.

using narratives, perception of memories, and the act of making - this thesis has turned into a translation of experience through non-literal means. the ability to translate both what is being experienced and the projection of private, subconscious thoughts has cast a new light on the way one may experience a space.

through continuous recycling and reinterpreting of images and words, blumpkin island became the site in which this investigation took place -

a fusion of realistic and subconscious experiences.



create: create an image using charcoal, be intuitive

interpret: conduct survey phase one, asking for the first word that comes to mind when confroned with each image

recreate: redraw the image using words collcted from the survey phase one based on the most common responses

reinterpret: conduct survey phase two, asking for a memory or emotion evoked from the list of common words collected from survey phase one

narrate: create an imaginative scene based on the words collected from the survey phase two

visualize: observe and photograph things that show enhance the atmosphere of the poetic narrative

perception: a way of regarding, understanding, or interpreting something; a mental impression.

the tweleve charcoal images to the left initiated an indepth investigation of perception and how one interprets and internalizes an image. the original images were sent out via survey to begin to understand how one image can translate and become reinterpreted into something else. by introducing both images and words, this survey was able to engage ones cognitive thinking through interaction with each phase of the survey. the six part survey becomes a reinterpretation of the image originally presented through a range of formats. the responses collected during each phase of the survey directly correlate to how each narrative progresses.

blur

BLURDARK

MOVEMENT

NIGHTSHADOW

TORNADO XRAY

spinefuzzycloudy

abyss

baby

caverns

charcoal

duality

dust

face

fading

fear

fibers

ghost

muscle

pull

rainsmoke

speed

spirit

tunnel

twilight

ugly

water

wind

window film strip

darkness

fuzzymovement

night

shadowtornado

xray

the flashes of lightning give me small glimpses of where i am, although i still can’t put a name to the location. i am confused.

each raindrop that seeps into my clothes makes each step harder and harder to take. i fear what is around me; i need to get out.

treerainhaircharcoalforestlinebarcode

BARC

ODE

HAIR

LINE

RAIN

TREE

CHAR

COAL

FORE

STstr

ingtelepho

ne line thin

bambo

o

bark

cont

rast

trans

porta

tion

wat

er ri

pple

s

win

dow

woo

d

zebr

a

dist

ance

gras

s

linea

ge

orde

r

para

llel

pins

tripe

sre

eds

rhyt

hm

rippl

e

rope

s

shel

l cas

ing

smud

ge

strip

es

i hear the playful cries of the kids splashing around the edge of the lake. it reminds me of the summers i used to spend camping with my family.

i can’t let their laughter distract me. i look up ahead and all i see is the never-ending sight of tree trunks.

the thin rays of sunlight coming through the branches remind me that i’m almost there; i’ve almost made it.

oceanbeachlandscapehorizoncliff

BEACHCLIFFHORIZON LANDSCAPEOCEAN

shorepaint strokemountain top lake

angle darkdescent

nightopen plain progressiondisperse

dune far too closefield

ink meadowcarnival

slope streaksunset

swamp

sweeptransitionvalley water

i look down at my new white sneakers, untouched. my toes are hanging over the edge, practically floating in the air.

the rock i’m standing on literally keeps me grounded. it keeps me from becoming part of the unknown.

i love this sense of freedom. i am standing on the edge of the world.


after understanding how an image is perceived through language, narratives, and reinterpretation, it became clear that the way people perceive and experience space is also very similar. demonstrating the importance of a narrative when experiencing a space became a very clear goal after conducting the first survey. the relationship between a physical experience and simultaneous cognitive interpretation became very strong. it became critical to choose a very specific and well known physical form that would focus in on how both “sides” of experience relate to one another.

the answer was obvious: a wall. seemingly simplistic, yet complex and intricate - the wall would serve as the framework through which the relationship between words and architecture would be explored.

the following section shows how the idea of the wall can be both literal and abstract. the translation between image, words, and abstraction show a range of understandings and explanations.


any various permanent upright constructions having a length much greater than the thickness and presenting a continuous surface except where pierced by doors, windows, etc.: used for shelter, protection, or privacy, or to subdivide interior space, to support floors, roofs or the like, to retain earth, to fence in an area, etc.


the following still frames are taken from a short film that juxtaposes the literal building of a masonry wall and the abstract interpretation and building of the definition of a wall. when watched

at the same time, it is difficult to focus on one over the other. this “conflict of interest” is an analogy to the way one responds to space when experiencing it.


reinterpreting the wall through large scale abstract drawings became more about the technique and rhythm in which the drawing was constructed than the image itself. a new experience is created out of translating the idea of a wall. images of “natural” walls, or boundaries were used as inspiration, as a reminder that a wall doesn’t have to be something physical. it can be abstract or it can be implied.


survey what three words best describe a wall?

who classmates friendsfamily colleagues public106 different occupations

226 responses collected in 24 hours

six hundred and sixty words totaltwo hundred and seven original words

a second survey was released simply to gain futher insight on what others perceive a wall to be. the sucess of interacting with “the public” from the first survey would translate the same way here: it simply brought more ideas to the surface of the experiential investigation. with a reinterpretation of the definition of a wall from the survey, it became clear that a wall is something that must be interacted with in order to experience it.

the most common words were internalized and translated into narratives and abstract drawings.

Boundary: It keeps shifting, one moment its to my left, and the next to my right. What is it doing? Holding me back? I’m not really forced anywhere, I just choose to walk to either side of it. The more I continue down this path, the more it becomes clear that I’ll have to choose a side – not yet though. I still have the freedom to do what I want. I can make the choice.

Solid: He stands there – meticulously looking at each component, wondering how to disassemble it. The weight associated with the addition of each piece is massive. There are a couple of spots in which the white light shines through. Maybe the more he tries the faster an opening will appear. Its as if the pieces were perfectly put in place so they would never come apart. The boy hasn’t realized that these small openings are the only progress he will ever make. A puzzle – pieced together perfect-ly so it never comes undone.

Flat: I look straight ahead – well I don’t even know if I’m looking straight because I can’t see the horizon. It just keeps going and going and going. I suppose I should just follow this thing to my left. I can’t see over it but something tells me it is hiding something. There is not a single point n which I can even grad hold of this thing. Its matte quality and lack of textures makes it impossible to engage. Untouchable. I start to run; in hopes the surface changes before my eyes. Man this is tiring, is it ever going to end? I’m not even sure if I’m moving. There is no sense of shadow or change that would indicate I’m even making any progress. I am trapped. This is so boring; I need a change.

Barrier: He stands there, looking through the small opening slightly below his eyes. Far on the other side she waits for him – standing still, as if she too is part of the wall. He looks up, then down, and up again; there seems to be no easy way to overcome this obstacle. It is the only thing holding him back. He takes a small stone from the ground and attempts to scrape away at the stone massing that separates him from her. It’s rather useless. HE walks to the right, and there he finds what used to have been a door, some sort of opening – its blocked now. Sealed with only the strongest of materials. He walks back to his original spot, she is back in view – he sighs. This will have to do for now – its as good as its going to get.

Preventative: Suddenly, I felt something holding me back; my feet became immediately implanted in the cold, hard soil I was standing on. The crashing of the waves below me kept me in some sort of rhythmic sway – left to right, left to right. I lift my hands out, forming a 90-degree angle between them and my body, the wind slightly moving them in a whimsical pattern. I try to pick up my right foot in hopes to let the wind bring my entire body into a harmonic rhythm of the waves. I couldn’t do it – I wanted to, but my foot would not let go of the ground. As if the landscape didn’t want to let go of me, preventing me from dealing with the imbalances of motion and movement.

Obstacle: Staring at this thing for twenty minutes isn’t helping it get any less complicated. The angles in which all these piec-es come together is quite puzzling. Of course there isn’t a single spot in which I could fit through and reach the middle. I just need that one thing in order to move into the next task. I’ve argued with myself that I should just walk around it and pretend I never found this mound of God knows what. No, I can’t – I’ve got to try, right? Maybe if I walk around to the other side I’ll find a slightly larger opening. Or perhaps I can try to break these pieces apart until I reach the center. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do, not impossible. This’ll just take some time, that’s all.


the use of a narrative to describe spatial experiences became the driving force behind the thesis. the narrative allows for enough ambiguity between what is real and actually happening verses how ones mind interprets and engages with space.

choosing blumpkin island as the site in which a sequence of experiences would be translated was crucial in that the island’s rich history and physical ruins produced very ambiguous atmospheres which could be easily interpreted. ruins and pieces of walls scattered all over the island served as a reminder that the physical objects had a presence and could not be ignored.

using memory, narrative, and the act of making to translate my experiences when on the island into drawings and small scale installations, one is able to see how experience is not only translated - but simultaneously looked at through two distinct lenses. the reality of the physical moment fused with the subconscious projections onto a space create a heightened sense of experience.


Published: August 2, 1901Copyright © The New York Times


twenty seven still frame images - a narrative of the existing sitetwenty seven written narratives - descriptions and projected observationslayered ontop of the other, creating a wall in front of what is real

clusters of refuge.rough and jagged

they make it hard to navigate.

wait long enough and the tide will recede,

the sand will dry.a narrow path revealed.

a surge from the left,in return a push from the right.

the self-containing rhythm of the bay has an agenda of its own.

it knows nothing but that, of its self.

a feeling of confinement,the pools of water begin to interconnectas the pulsating ocean comes closerand closer.

broken and drythe bare branches struggle to remain whole.disjointed twigs lay on a warped paththe end is nowhere in sight.

the crevices that consume the pavementmake it hard to pay attention to anything but the ground.

back bent, eyes down, each step is calculated and taken with caution.

red brick, brown brick,yellow brick,

no brick. they lay there

lifeless, without purpose.the immediate clearing allows for a glimpse of the city skyline.a reminder of the distance between here and reality.the low tree line seeks regrowthattempting to cover the mistakes of the past.

broken corners reveal the fragmented details.large and small alike joined together.the surface does not read collectivelyas each tries to be its own.

broken yet stable,the concrete mass claims its space.

fighting to remain recognizableamongst its overgrown and uninviting

neighbor

the uneasiness caused by the splitting of the stonequestions the power of what is below.

a crack that acts as a gatewayto what is underneath the surface.

open and clear at firsthidden and vague beyond.

hints of red and yellow in the distancequestion what used to be.

an endless seapiles upon piles -crushedrotateddismantledoldweathered,but somehow,they are all still the same

two faces create one.a wall that extends

beyond its physical limits.boundary.

a never ending supplycreates a new ground covering.a new layer,surpassing the value of what was before.

the remains of what used to belay scattered across the clearing.

traces of enclosed spaces stand outagainst the aging ruins.

twisted,contorted,upright,downright,sideways.tossed,misused,crumbled,stuck –chaos.

the rhythm of the openings establisha pace, a sense of clarity.

structure and orderunderstanding of space.

signs of no enclosureworn and abusedthe stones endure the sunand the cold crisp ocean air.

a synthesis of nature and built.a shelter that protectsa space that prohibits.

an intricate surface ofextrusions and gaps.

the space betweena place for growth.

discouraging interaction between the two worldsa series of trees crown the top of the moundprotecting whatever is inside

three distinct layers.deposits of sediment

tell the story of the earth

embedded in the path, the brick tries to fit insurfaces as smooth as the stones around it,it has become part of something else.

one last look back.the island still stagnantjust like it was found.unaltered,unbothered


a series of large scale collages were made and recorded using fundamental principles from stop motion animation. playing with the idea of time, each collage is built up from nothing using ripped paper and charcoal to create a new experience or perception of space.

the first set of images describe the relationship between the existing site and the new experience in which the character has.

the series of small still-frames show to actual making of the drawing. using still frames to slow down time - one is forced to be immersed entirely in what is happening.

by playing these two films next to each other and at the same time, there is a lack of clarity as to which film should be more important. by watching both at the same time, the realization that experience happens both in the moment of the real situation as well as in our subconscious construct proves that experience is multi-dimensional.

reality: wall as a built form, the character intuitively builds upon existing ruins

subconscious: nature as a wall, the character projects its own interpretation onto the site


the following pages include work that was relevant to the process and methods in which the thesis was developed. research and analysis of scholarly work established the groundwork in which big picture quetsions were attempted to answer this year. this theoretical investigation is something that will be an ongoing endeavor, which will hopefully help drive my passions in architecture into the professional world.


early sketch models experimenting with text overlay, transparencies, and light

small scale installation models exploring ideas of the wall as deconstructed and fragmented

draft character development - the masonsequential narratives and abstract drawings

The alarm goes off, he gets up. Still asleep he performs the morning routine as if his muscles have precisely memorized every movement and the sequence in which they are performed. Almost lifeless, he stumbles out the door. Dragging his feet across his driveway, he gets in the beat up truck and heads to the office. Today is a new day, he thought. Work for the previous project was done and he was to be assigned a new job today. The slight chance that work would not be the same was thrilling. Not that there was anything wrong with that kind of work – it just left no room for originality. Having worked as a mason for over fifteen years, the man had realized the importance of respecting the nature of specific materials. Made with certain strengths and weaknesses, each material preferred to be treated slightly differently on site. The drive didn’t seem as long this morning – perhaps the hope and excitement was getting to him.

He walks into the office; headed straight to the disheveled table in the corner of the room Coffee was the last and final step in the morning routine. No one was in the office yet, which was odd. By this point in the morning, superintendents and laborers would be running in and out of that stupid red painted door; grabbing invoices, credit cards, tools, coffee, you name it. It was a mad house, except for today. He sat down at the oblong table to enjoy the first few sips of his coffee. To his surprise, he found a white piece of paper with a sticky note attached to it. He looked at it, then up at the door of the office where the owner was almost always yelling at some contractor about scheduling and financing. Today, the room was completely silent. The slightest sound came from the coffee machine, no one ever shut off that damn coffee pot.

He picked up the paper, which to his surprise had his name on it. “137 Sunrise Lane. Supplies on site. Should take two days tops.” Well this shouldn’t be too bad, might as well get going, he thought to himself. Filling up his mug with a fresh cup, he headed for his car to begin the day’s work. The chance of making it home before dark was looking rather promising at the moment. Mornings usually consisting of hashing out client complaints, shooting the shit with the guys, and lets not forget about the occasional brave contractor that would step into the office.

He set his GPS to the address, he had never heard of this street before, it was only a couple of towns over too. All the roads looked familiar until he was directed to turn left on a poorly kept street that looked more like a trail. Unpaved and low hanging branches, he turned and began to plow through the overgrown landscape that existed. One by one, they scraped along the body of the truck, and quickly sprung back to their initial resting point. What kind of job could possibly be out here wondered?

A couple of hundred feet down the road he saw a clearing and what seemed to be a small house. Parking his truck next to a pile of neatly stacked bricks, he stepped out and looked for any sign of the client, or life for that matter at this point. With no luck, he got back into the truck to finish his coffee, hoping someone would show up at this time to provide him with some sort of direction.

The sun was finally out now, as he could feel the sweat forming on his forehead. Trying to pass the time, he reread the note he grabbed from the office, hoping there was another clue as to why he was here – no luck. Getting anxious, he stepped out of the truck and started walking around what seemed to be an empty plot of land besides the small house to his left. He approached the pile of bricks, hoping they would somehow be able to answer his question of what he was doing here.

The bricks were stacked perfectly on a palette, not a single one missing. Towering above his shoulders, he reached up to the top layer of the bricks to see if a receipt or note had been left in attempts to instruct him at this point. The familiar feeling of the brick texture made him feel a little better, these things were the only familiar thing to him in this cleared land. Brushing his hand across he pile, he felt the rhythm of the brick and void, as if the mortar was already placed within them. The proportioned rhythm reminded him why he was there, although the task was still unclear. It was obvious a wall or walls had to be built. There was no hint as to where though.

He slowly walked towards the house, hoping to find someone or possibly even the start of a foundation for proof that he was supposed to be here. Approaching the house he noticed the door was painted bright red. That’s an odd coincidence he thought to himself. The small fogged up window next to the door wasn’t much help – it was so fogged up and old you couldn’t even see through it. He didn’t dare touch it, the glass looked like it was going to shatter even with the slightest noise.

His curiosity led him to walk around to the two sides of the house he could not see from the drive in. The first thing he encountered upon turning the corner was the lack of enclosure of the house. Half the exterior wall was burnt, with nothing but fragmented edges and a pile of what was now burnt planks on the ground. He reached his hand out to touch the fraying edge. His touch made the wall almost immediately crumble to join the existing ruins on the ground. He touched the wall again, this time grabbing the wood plant firmly and slightly shaking it to test its integrity. More of the house came falling to the ground.

At this point it seemed pretty obvious he was sent here to repair the wall of this abandoned house. Perplexed at the fact that no one was even around, he walked back to the truck to call the office. No one was picking up, which again was odd. He checked his phone to make sure it was Thursday, and sure enough it was. He was aware that the big job in town was pressed for time, but he didn’t think the whole company was out on site helping. With about half the morning gone, he figured he might as well do something while he was here – he was on the clock after all. Being the honest man he is, he never felt right slacking or not taking work seriously.

Grabbing tools from the bed of the truck, he made his way back to the damaged wall. The opening had gotten larger and he was starting to think shaking that plant may not have been the best idea. In attempts to not damage the little amount of structure that was left, he went around the corner to open the door to access the situation inside. Avoiding the window, he grabbed the doorknob and turned it to the right. He quickly realized that his wrist, although rotating was not actually making the doorknob move. Getting slightly frustrated, he rattled the knob and it fell to the ground. It was pretty obvious that nothing else should be touched unless he wanted to be responsible for the entire house crumbling to pieces. The only way to fully understand how to fix this was to get inside through the existing opening.

Walking back to the other side, he observed the size of the opening. The top third of the wall was still in tact and maneuvering under it was going to be a challenge. He was determined to fix this wall, seeing as half the day had already been spent trying to figure out why this abandoned property even existed. He began to seel as if he owed something to this place, especially since he was pretty successful in defacing parts of it already. He felt obligated now.

Crouching down and taking every step in careful stride, he slowly crossed the delicate threshold, pausing and looking u at every step to make sure he didn’t brush up against the edge. The interior was one big open space, no furnishings or lights. The sun was still bright enough to bring in light from the opening in the wall behind him. He quickly realized why the note said two days, once the sun set tonight there was no work he could do. He walked around the perimeter of the interior space, looking for any sign of occupation of life for that matter.

In the corner closest to the window he saw a pile. As he got closer and leaned over he realized it was the beginning of a brick wall. Perhaps it was started to cover up the window – in an effort to keep the rest of the house from falling apart. Thirteen bricks split between three rows were stacked delicately and in perfect alignment. Their precision was incredible, and the mortar set in between each brick was immaculate. It would take a couple of hours to finish that portion, which would leave just enough time before sunset to move some bricks over in preparation to the build the exterior wall.

Not wasting any more time than he already had, he rushed outside to grab some bricks. Getting slightly less cautious about this approach in and out of the house, he barely ducked and managed to snap off a large edge, leaving another foot of the interior space exposed. He was going to have to patch up that wall anyways so he didn’t care as much now that the sun was no longer working in his favor.

Without a wheelbarrow in site, carrying the bricks over to the house was going to be anything short of a good time. Staring at the pile, he started grabbing from the top and stacking them in his left hand. Using his chest to support the stack he was able to stack eight comfortably. This process was going to be a bit more tedious and drawn out than expected.

Returning to the interior space, he was careful to place the bricks on the ground. They were all perfectly shapes, he appreciated whoever took the care to transport them so gently – for he understood how easily a brick could gain the slightest deformity or scratch if handled incorrectly.

The sound of the rocks scraping against the bottom of the kayak meant he had reached his destination. He brought the paddle to the left side, dug it into the coarse layer of stones and sand in an attempt to propel himself closer to the shore. As the kayak slid a couple more feet closer to shore, he lifted his foot up, out and down into the freezing water. The slight waves from the tide bashed further up his leg, as his foot searched for something to stand on. The sharp edge his foot initially came into contact with jolted through his body, resulting in the kayak tipping closer to the water. Trying to gain balance, he felt around with his nearly frozen toes for a smooth surface. Cautiously skimming past the edge he previously stepped on, he found a smooth stone in which he placed his foot. Firmly grabbing the handle at the top of the kayak, he slowly walked through the ankle-deep water until the kayak was resting entirely on a bed of rocks that were once covered in water. The tide was going out – so he had plenty of time to explore before he had to come back and bring the kayak completely ashore.

Taking is first step onto the sand blasted pavement was such a relief. The continuity of one surface was a surprise. The walk up to the moment had to be carefully planned out before any more was physically made. The effortlessness of walking on this path allowed him to lift his head and observe his surroundings. Contained to this path by green walls on either side of him he continued to walk to the only way he could – straight. The overgrown bushes prevented him from seeing what was on the other side of him. Suddenly – he felt a tug on the side of his shirt. A branch lined with thorns had managed to attach itself to the cotton fibers of his shirt. Carefully turning around in attempts to not get pricked again, he grabbed the branch and released it from the fiber of his clothes. Turning forward, he squinted to try to see further down he path. The peak of the path left him wondering what was beyond his view. All that was in view were the overgrown bushes and plateau of the cracked paved way.

A slight opening formed off to the right. Intrigued he walked closer to the edge of the path. Not caring about the branches brushing up against his arm, he eagerly walked towards the thinning of leaves. Grabbing the branch in fron of him and moving it out of his path, he turns his head – unsure of what he is going to discover. Another path; this one is unpaved. Significantly smaller in width, he cautiously walks downhill towards an opening. Between the dirt that is being kicked up from his own footsteps and the reckless reaching out of the branches, his attention once again focuses on his each movement. The placement of each step closer to the opening becomes more strategic, trying not to get tangled in the thorns. The branches clear, and before him sits a large pile of red and yellow bricks. The way in which they are laid out is unclear - as if they were taken from elsewhere and dropped into this ditch for hiding. Hiding from what though? He takes a few steps towards the pile stepping on a few red bricks laid out flat – the way a brick should be. The boundary between this opening and the untamed brush is unclear, as bricks and branches shift beneath and on top of each other.

The sun sets over the top edge of the trees. Anxious to rest, he approaches the vine-covered concrete wall in front of him. Rising another six feet over him, he assumed this wall was once part of a complex of sorts on the island. Perhaps the pile of bricks used to connect to this area. He walked besides the wall, encoun-tering large openings every few feet. He brushed his hand against the rough texture, and let his hands trace the organic nature of the vines growing along the wall. Allowing his hand to lead him, he took a few moments to look up at the brilliant hues of pink and purple in the sky. His hand dropped – the wall ended. An un-recognizable space appeared in front of him. Taking a few steps forward, he reached his hands out to his sides in hopes to find the continuation of the wall behind him. To his right, his fingers felt the cool, rough texture that was familiar to him seconds before. Comforted by this, he sat down on the packed dirt beneath him. His mind sunk further and further into a state of relaxation as his body did.

mason narrative, blumpkin island - draft

character development - mason

The trail of wet sand reveals itself as the tide pulls itself back and away from the narrow and almost undistinguishable trail. Small impressions in the sand collect the salt water, making the path less noticeable. The path, just slightly above the water level, whimsically curves to the left in the distance, ending at a sandy bar at the edge of the island ahead. Four distinct layers are visible: the brilliant blue sky, the trees, the sand and rocks – all grounded by the ocean and the changing tides.

The branches struggle to claim a spot of their own amongst the tangled layers they have created. The struggle each endures to find its place on top of one another is mesmerizing. Unknowingly intricate patterns are created, a complex system of small objects. The intertwining and overlapping act as a structure, a wall that cannot be broken. Thorns stick out of a branch to the left. The small sharp protrusions make the wall untouchable; it cannot be changed or bothered.

Spewed across the clearing are thousands of bricks, varying from burnt red, to faded yellow, to chalky white. The accidental sculptural qualities of the bricks create uneasiness to the existing path that lead to the clearing. There is no telling where the bricks stop, they seep into and under to leaves of the bushes. A sea of red bricks scattered out on the ground, enduring the weather and the elements.

Purpose, the bricks serve a purpose. The continuation from wall to ground creates a seat – perhaps a place to rest. The flat nature of the blocks allow for a small surface to sit up against the wall. Small gaps between each brick exemplify their nature, they are not meant to be read as a solid entity; not like the concrete they are pushed up against. Each component, important as the next one – creating a composition.

Dead end - the wall prevents the continuation of the path. A small crevice between the built form and the wall of brush hints that it continues. The wall, soaring up to the sky is sturdy, strong – and not moving. Each brick is stacked precisely to create flat faces. Not a single brick sticks out further than another. The corner of the wall, so sharp it could tear whatever comes into contact with it. The sun above is positioned perfectly at the edge of the top layer of the wall. It is too bright to see what is at the top.

The ground packed hard into itself from pervious occupants of this path. A path that steers away from the main paved one that divides the island in two. The strength of the ground is proven by the massive freestanding wall it is supporting. The same ground also holds thick branches, vertically pushed into the dirt. Attached at the top are additional branches, which are set into the narrow openings between the layers of bricks. A natural covering of large leaves and pine needle clusters lay on top of the pergola-shaped structure, approximately four feet off the ground. A shelter, a place for rest – comfort.

A few hundred yards down the rocky shoreline emerges a flat surface. Non-reflective and non-obtrusive it sits slightly above the low tree line. A beacon, a place for observation. The large rocks that sit on top of the sand look weightless, placed there as a means of walking around the sandy shore line. The dark rocks to the right act as a clock, a symbol of power that the ocean holds.

character development - artist

Each wave creeps closer and closer to the dry sand ahead. The difference between the granulated pixels ranging from dark brown to the brightest of white, shimmer against the dark, rocky ground creates a distinct boundary. That which belongs to the island, and that which belongs to the sea. The sand rises up the sloped shoreline and continues up to what may be a path into the woods. A hint of civilization is revealed, the beginning of a paved path ahead.

The intricate entanglement of branches and twigs to the left and right act as walls containing the existing pathway. The deep cracks in the pavement tell a story of time, and of the ever exhausting changes in the weather – from summer to winter and back to summer again, there is no in between around here. The tangled walls rise just slightly above his head. He continues to walk in the middle of the path until a break in the branches to his right suddenly appears. An opening, a trail that interests the existing. The pavement stays straight on its assumed trajectory, while the opening veers off – down a dirt covered trail.

Chaotic, disorganized and unkept. The bricks lay there, scattered across the opening at the bottom of the dirt path. Their purpose is unknown. The way in which each brick carelessly sits on top of one another is reckless. They are begging to be ordered and placed upright. He picks up the brick closest to his feet. It is no longer rectangular in shape. A chalky white film covers one of its faces. Broken and weathered, it has been here for a long period of time.The ruin of what was a concrete wall has eight rectangular punctures evenly positioned along the heavy grey mass. Some of the trees have found a way to penetrate through the openings – reaching out to the paved path a few feet away. The space in front of the wall would be much more effective if those branches weren’t in the way, he thought. Still holding the brick, he places it on the left side of one of the ledges in an opening. The smooth, bland nature of the concrete allows the texture of the brick to stand out and be heard. He places another brick next to the first. A rush of familiarity and clarity overcomes him. The repetitive stacking of a single object was a ritual, something of comfort.

Stacked from the ground, each layer of bricks is perpendicularly stacked on top of each other, adding a mere three inches of height per layer. The steady incline from ground to platform sitting just below the treetops is meticulously put together, not a single brick out of sequence. Progressing up is smooth and nearly effortless as he slightly picks up his feet with each step, as if he is gliding to the top. The tips of his shoes dangling off the edge of the platform. The faint lights from the city skyline twinkle in the far distance. The thrill, the nerves – it all happens in one moment.

Rough, exposed concrete surrounds him on three sides. Faint traces of dead vines consume the lower half of the enclosure. Half of the space is covered in shadow, as the sun has almost completely set. Behind him, the concrete wall that was once punctured and exposed, now shields him from the protruding trees and branches. Perfectly stacked rows of bricks fill each opening completely. The wall now protects the space from unwanted visitors.The wide gap between the two walls carries a sense of emptiness in the clearing. A broken surface, incomplete. Each fragmented edge, reaches out toward the other, eager to reconnect. At the footing of one of the walls, six bricks rest on the ground. Placed vertically and directly next to each other, he assumes the pattern must be continued.


Experiencing the Personal in a Publicly Driven World

Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Instant Messenger, MySpace, LinkedIn, Tumblr, Wordpress, Skype, iMessage, Gmail – shall I go on? How many different ways would you like me to get in contact with you? Repetitive and unnecessary, all of these websites allow me to contact you, see what’s going on in your life, and ultimately I get to share what’s going on with mine. Between profile pictures, wall posts, status updates, tagged pictures, and “about mes,” it seems as though someone can get to know us pretty quickly. The overwhelming amount of information is simply a mask, a collection of images in which we use to describe ourselves. Sure, all the information is more or less accurate, but what’s the point of having all these images bombard us each and everyday? Italian journalist Italo Calvino calls this an “unending rainfall of images” – which is the most accurate way to describe the way society gets manipulated by the up rise in technology. All of these personal snapshots we find on social media networks is just one example of how society’s picture-frame mentality has truly become an unhealthy infatuation with an image.

With technological advances in the sciences, communications, medical, social, and consumer fields, it is clear why there is a constant temptation to be distracted by images. Sharr characterizes Heidegger’s position on everyday distractions from reality as follows: “Heidegger felt that aspects of everyday life, particularly in the Western world, served as distractions from the ‘proper’ priorities of human existence. For him, most of us, most of the time, we’re missing the point.” Heidegger’s claim, made in the mid-twentieth century, is not an alarming warning or a cry for help. Perhaps it was fifty of sixty years ago, but the over manipulated conditions we live in today serve as a breeding ground for distractions from “proper priorities”. It is fair to say that most of us won’t ever truly understand the idea behind human existence, as simple as it may seem. Our minds, consumed by pop culture, tech gadgets, and material wealth make it so easy to forget what it means to live and be alive.As technology and pictures cast us further away from what was once considered to be profound life experiences, the boundary between society and personal privacy weakens and becomes nearly invisible. Architecture historian Beatrice Colomina writes extensively about the effects of mass media on architecture. She argues that a home in the twenty-first century is no longer a private entity, but one that belongs to public spaces; it is after all constructed and showcased in every public aspect possible. Museums, art galleries, competitions, photographs, magazines, and exhibitions are all venues in which the house is looked at and picked apart until there is practically nothing left. The house is seen as a mere image, an item of mischaracterized value that we seek to obtain. Architecture, holistically speaking has also fallen victim to the image over its original values such as spatial and experiential qualities. The amount of architecture thrown at us via image would be nearly impossible to actually experience each and every space in real life.

It is unsettling to say that media defines us in the twenty-first century. It defines who we are, what we do, and a lot of times why we do what we do. The irony of a private home being subject to universal trends and tendencies have in effect left many wondering about the true meaning behind human existence. French philosopher Gaston Bachelard’s best-known work, The Poetics of Space epitomizes the house as the ultimate safe-haven for private thoughts. Contrary to what the media presents us, Bachelard’s philosophical discourse on perceiving space through sensory experience and memory gives us an opportunity to better understand the function and purpose of a home. The house shelters daydreaming, the house protects the dreamer the house allows one to dream in peace. Thought and experience are not the only things that sanction human values. The values that belong to daydreaming mark humanity it its depths. Daydreaming even has a privilege of auto valorization. It derives direct pleasure from its own being.

The house as a protector of dreams and thoughts is such a simple idea that has been ruined by technology. Before the growth in technology and all its distractions that associated with it, Bachelard’s sense of privacy and intimacy within the home was realistic and embraced in society. Published in 1958, Bachelard wrote poetically about various components of the house and their significance to our ability to daydream – or simply put, to think. He wrote about how doorknobs were comparable to keys, unlocking our deepest secrets, about drawers and chests as symbols of intimacy and places in which we can keep our most personal thoughts safe. His emphasis on the integration of thoughts, memories and dreams being the most powerful form of self-exploration asserts that the home truly is a safe haven.

Bachelard’s constant reference to his own childhood and memories of home shows the delicate relationship we as individuals hold with such a seemingly basic space that we carelessly experience everyday. The way in which he describes each of these basic spaces creates an image in one’s head as we try to understand his thinking. This visual cue that he creates through his text essentially enables us to dig into our own personal “memory bank” to relate to what he holds so highly in his memory. This trigger of memory is a more appropriate way to connect with others on a universal level. The over simplification and image-washed techniques we use today only make it more difficult to understand the fundamental ideas behind universal connections through personal experience.

Finnish architect Juhani Pallasmaa points out that modernist design has housed the intellect and the eye, but it has left the body and the other senses, as well as our memories, imagination and dreams, homeless. His argument that modernist design, more generally speaking – living in the twenty-first century – has left us with a lack of attention paid to personal experience and self-reflection. Our daily routines have left our minds and senses with nothing much more than a series of visual imprints. We associate images with a “flatness” because an image is only satisfying to the eye. A deeper consciousness, on the other hand, disappears when our actions become “automatic” or when we are functioning through repetitive reflexive responses. Our image-engaged world has left our conscious yearning for a place to think, to escape. Some architects have found inspiration in Bachelard’s example of the home as a vehicle for re-activating dreams, thoughts, and our senses. The need for personal architectural experiences within a world universally bound by images can be demonstrated through sensory, cognitive, and perceptive activation of the body and mind. In doing so, each individual has the ability to experience moments of self-reflection and thought despite the pressures and distractions society places upon us. There are four ways in which the body and mind must be stimulated in order for self-reflection to occur. Heightened sensory experience leads to heightened cognitive experience; likewise individual perception engages personal memory and emotion. Taking a look at each of these categories more closely can generate criteria for deeply personal experience [that speaks to the humanity of us all.

The study of phenomenology, founded in the early twentieth century, is the philosophical study of an observable experience that takes place in our conscious minds. It is directly related to sensory experience and the way our whole body engages space. As our world has become obsessed with the idea of image, much of what we encounter today is simply a recycled product; and with that the other four senses are displaced out of the central place of experience. Psychologist James J. Gibson regards the senses as aggressively seeking mechanisms rather than mere passive receivers. He recognizes the senses as five sensory systems: visual system, auditory system, the taste-smell system, the basic-orienting system and the haptic system. This appreciation of the senses as the instrumentation of more integrated sense-mind systems allows us to access the nature of human experience as more than a mere mechanical data collection process.

Pallasmaa’s literature on sensory experience proceeds on the basis of this framework in which architects are encouraged to allow each of the five senses to work separately, yet collectively. In his writing, he talks about how abandoned houses always have the same hollow and musty smell. The logical conclusion is that the lack of humans and the activation of objects create stagnation and emptiness. Pallasmaa suggests that visually, we recognize that the house is abandoned, and because of that we automatically assume it to have the same traits as an abandoned building that we may have previously experienced.

It becomes apparent that although the five senses – sight, hearing, taste, touch, smell – may want to act as detached mechanisms, the complex makeup of our body and mind actually makes of our sense systems as a collective and collaborative process of experiencing space. Think about walking into a kitchen and you all of a sudden smell a batch of cookies baking in the oven. The overpowering smell will most likely also make you think that the space is suddenly warmer than it would be if the cookies weren’t being baked. Heightening one sense in turn allows the others to be heightened in their respective ways as well.

As one engages a space through sensory activation, Pallasmaa claims that a sixth sense emerges – the cognitive ability to understand atmosphere. Mental phenomena have real, as well as intentional, existence. Empirically we might be satisfied with a structure as a purely physical-spatial entity but, intellectually and spiritually, we need to understand the motivations behind it. This duality of intention and phenomena is like the interplay between objective and subjective or, more simply, thought and feeling. The challenge for architecture is to stimulate both inner and outer perception; to heighten phenomenal experience while simultaneously expressing meaning; and to develop this duality in response to the particularities of site and circumstance.

As architecture is called to stimulate both inner and outer phenomena it is evident that this cannot be done in broad or general terms. Brentano, quoted by Pallasmaa, mentions that site and circumstance are crucial to heightening experience because by analyzing those two aspects, the big picture starts to fade and one starts to focus on cues and hints that can be related to on a personal level. In providing such cues to specific spaces, personal memories are activated to heighten the total mind and body experience. Memory is an aspect of perception that we cannot escape. It is second nature for us to treasure memories and use them as reference points in our lives. Pallasmaa’s theories on the perception of space not only activate our cognitive sensory system, but also encourage the body to “project” itself onto the city, while the city also projects itself onto us. The blurring of the boundary between body and space only heightens our experiences, as our bodies act as memory retaining systems. By being open to metaphysical qualities of architecture, it becomes easy to transcend beyond the forms and simplicities of space. Masters of phenomenology and experiential architecture: Steven Holl, Peter Zumthor, and Juhani Pallasmaa have theorized and designed projects that successfully bring the user to a personal mindset through articulation of common architectural space. "The perceptual spirit and metaphysical strength of architecture are driven by the quality of light and shadow shaped by solids and voids, by opacities, transparencies, and translucencies." Steven Holl’s work shows his knowledge and deep understanding of light and shadow. The Chapel of St. Ignatius in Seattle and the addition to the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art in Kansas City diffuse and magnify different qualities of light. Pallasmaa’s assertion that daydreaming is stimulated by dim light and shadow proves that juxtaposing light qualities provokes thinking. As a space suppresses the sharpness of vision, images become unclear and ambiguous, therefore taking the focus off the visual and allowing the cognitive experience to surface.

The attempt to create architecture that provokes individual memory and perception can be compared to the way Peter Zumthor uses and speaks about materiality in architecture.Materials react with one another and have their radiance, so that the material composition gives rise to something unique. Material is endless. Take a stone: you can saw it, grind it, drill into it, split it, or polish it – it will become a different thing each time. Then take tiny amounts of the same stone, or huge amounts, and it will turn into something else again. Then hold it up to the light – different again. There are a thousand different possibilities in one material alone.

The endless possibilities in which a material can be transformed are seen as a metaphor for the ways people perceive space. A common thread holds us all together, but everyone brings their own personal history to the table – creating a personal experience within a universal experience of space. Steven Holl’s design principles focused on the manipulation of light and material are two main factors behind designing what architectural theorist’s call a poetic space. Atmosphere, as we recall being the sixth sensory group according to Pallasmaa, is created in poetic or sensory activating spaces. “An architecture experience silences all external noise; it focuses attention on one’s very existence. Architecture, as all art, makes us aware of our fundamental solitude.” The silence and internal focus created by architecture detaches us from the distracting parts of our lives.

The same detachment can be experienced in a home, as mentioned earlier in regards to Bachelard’s philosophical work. The silencing of external noise and distractions, and a push for inverted focus allows each person to reflect, meditate, and experience the pure qualities of phenomenological space. For a brief moment, we escape the stresses and routine of life. Consciousness awakens and the mind is released into the realm of dreams and existential thinking. “We must try to access that inner life which reveals the luminous intensity of the world. Only through solitude can we begin to penetrate the secret around us. An awareness of one’s unique existence in space is essential in developing a consciousness of perception.” Stepping away from chaos and allowing solitude to penetrate into our body and mind gives us a sense of comfort in which we are able to think clearly. This freedom is crucial in establishing a balance between personal and universal experiences.

Architecture has taken a philosophical shift in order to fulfill the need to revisit basic human desires. Understanding space on a personal level in the publicized realm is a desired quality in order to keep humanity grounded. “The job of architecture is not the beautify or ‘humanize’ the world of everyday fact, but to open a view into the second dimension of our consciousness, the reality of dreams, images, and memories.” The second dimension allows one to explore self in the midst of others. Our perception of space can ultimately be used to recreate or articulate new things. “Each person’s ideas of space and of the visible are private memories, emotional experiences, that built the world, the cities, help to transform into shared memory. It was thus not stupid to say that architecture works like a language, that it aims to be a language.”

Architecture as a language has pushed itself to the forefront of psychological and philosophical discourse in the design field. The ability to straddle both the personal and public realm of architecture challenges us to find connections in both spectrums of thinking. The engagement of memory through space provides a frame in which cognitive and sensory experience is heightened, therefore internally creating a personalized experience for each person. The architecture must provide poetic and atmospheric qualities in order for the body and mind to become active participants in the experiential process. By allowing ourselves to participate in such experiences, we gain more knowledge about ourselves and in time find what once may have been distracting to be a mere annoyance that is easily ignored. To strike the perfect balance between personal and public understanding of space is only that of a dream, which only surfaces when architecture presents an opportunity for the activation for sensory and cognitive experience.


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Zumthor, Peter. Atmospheres. Basel: Birkhäuser, 2006.

Documents

Thesis Book