Rachel's blog

Group Seminar - Lorne Street Penthouse Apartment

For our group presentation assignment, Wai, Anastacia and I chose a penthouse apartment in Lorne Street designed by Alasdair Hood as our subject interior space.  We separated our presentation into three main parts: The Bachelor Pad (Wai) The Gallery (Anastacia), and The Art Itself (me).

The client is a wealthy businessman based in LA.  As well as being his “home away from home” when he occasionally stays in Auckland, the apartment is intended as a place for other artists and writers to stay when in town.  This feeling of an art community and the notion of a transient coming and going is reflected in the design, which does have a hotel-like ambience.

Wai talked about how the minimal nature of the apartment and the materials used gave it a masculine feeling, like a bachelor pad.  The apartment is mostly clean lines and matt white walls, with the exception of the black, glossy surfaces found in the kitchen and bathrooms, which are mostly hidden from public view.  This minimalist approach is linked to masculine spaces on the notion that it is a masculine trait to “bare all”, rather than a feminine modesty, covered by ornamentation.  Wai illustrated this by using Joel Sanders’ quote “Architecture fabricates a masculine environment by undressing rather than dressing its surfaces: less is more masculine”[1] 

Another very masculine feature to the interior was the furniture, also designed by Hood, in particular the bar and bar stools.  When looking at the bar stools, it is not that much of a stretch of the imagination to see a phallic form, perhaps created intentionally, perhaps subconsciously. 

Bar stools

Anastacia talked about the way the apartment acts like a kind of gallery.  In our initial interview with the designer, Hood claimed that rather than to create a gallery feel, that the aim of the interior was to be more like a container for art, less “precious” than a gallery.  Anastacia looked at several gallery designs and found similarities to Hood’s design in the lighting and flow of the spaces.  She also used Photoshop to remove the artwork from the apartment, leaving white walls, which were strongly reminiscent of a gallery-type design.

Lastly, I looked into the particular pieces of artwork on display.  We chose to investigate the artwork because it is an integral part of the design and the relationships of the art to the interior are very important.  In particular, there is a John Reynolds piece hung around the huge central column in the apartment as shown in the image below.

John Reynolds - column

Reynolds is known for the “performance” of his work and considers the energy a piece acquires from its context an important factor[2].  He tries to create a “dance between the artist and viewer”[3], to prompt a “journey across a wall”[4].  He is interested in the spatial experience of a poem, and in this case uses a poem by Bulgarian writer and poet Kapka Kassabova as material for his artwork.  The title of the poem is unknown, but it talks about harbours, sunsets, moons rising and reflections; time passing, beginnings and endings, yearning and remembering.  The viewer/reader is spatially led around the column as they read the poem.  At times the viewer/reader will see the harbour, reflections in the water and possibly the sunset through the large windows in the apartment as a backdrop to the poem.

Another idea conveyed by the art is one of communication.  Many of the pieces on display have a reflective (Winston Roeth, image below) or luminous (Jim Speers, image below) quality.  Considering the position of the apartment atop a high-rise building, these pieces give the feel of emitting some kind of signal to those outside the apartment, those in other high buildings.

Winston Roeth

Jim Speers lightbox

Although I agree our presentation would have benefited from more preparation and a proper run-through as a group, I believe our research was sound in each of the three areas and I think we all came away with a deeper understanding of the interesting and complex issues raised by this interior.

 

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[1] Joel Sanders, Stud: Architectures of Masculinity. (New York: Princeton Architectural Press, 1996) 16.

[2] John Reynolds, Certain Words Drawn, ed. Laurence Simmons (Auckland: Godwit in association with Dead Letter Office, 2008) 261.

[3] John Reynolds, Certain Words Drawn, ed. Laurence Simmons (Auckland: Godwit in association with Dead Letter Office, 2008) 262.

[4] John Reynolds, Certain Words Drawn, ed. Laurence Simmons (Auckland: Godwit in association with Dead Letter Office, 2008) 263.

Sustainability in the Built Environment

Today’s lecture was given by Jane Henley, CEO of the New Zealand Green Building Council (NZGBC).  Along with learning about NZGBC, the Green Star rating system and ecological footprints, we came to appreciate how much impact and influence we can have as designers on sustainability and the environment.  We also considered how, as individuals, we can become more aware and active in protecting our earth.  Relating this back to our studio brief, we considered how we could approach our design from the perspective of sustainability, then researched an existing design example to see how others have incorporated sustainability into their practice.

Ideas we came up with to activate change in everyday life and strategies we can all employ to become more sustainable:

energy efficient light bulbs... turn lights off when not in use... compost... grow own veges... buy groceries from a local farmers’ market... recycle everything possible... bring own coffee cup rather than using disposable ones... catch the bus, car pool or walk instead of drive... buy second-hand goods... collect rain water for use in the garden... use eco-friendly products (e.g. washing powders)... don’t eat meat!... use green, reusable shopping bags... make sure house (and hot water cylinder & pipes) are insulated

Jane Henley’s lecture reminded me of how much influence we can have as individuals and as designers on the sustainability of our lives and buildings.

From Jane, I learnt that society’s current considerations when decision-making look something like this:

Current Societal View

 The main factor considered when making a decision is the economy, followed by society.  The third factor, if it is even considered at all is the environment.  A more balanced model would look something like this:

Balanced View

All factors are sometimes considered in relation to another, and occasionally all factors are considered at once.  Moving toward a more sustainable future, the ideal model would be as below:

Ideal view

Here, the environment is the over-riding consideration, within which sits society, and within society, economy.  My understanding of this is basically that if you don’t have a stable and healthy environment, you can’t have a stable and healthy society.  It follows then that if you don’t have a stable and healthy society, you can’t have a stable and healthy economy.

An ecological footprint measures how much land is required to supply your living and lifestyle needs - that is food, housing, energy/fuel, transport, and consumer goods and services.[1]  It can be calculated for an individual, a business or even a country.  In New Zealand, our ecological footprint is now 7.7 global hectares per person according to the latest WWF Living Planet Report released on 29 October 2008[2].  This has increased from 5.9 global hectares per person in the 2006 report.  We are now ranked sixth largest in the world behind United Arab Emirates, the United States, Kuwait, Denmark and Australia.  The average worldwide ecological footprint was 2.2 global hectares in 2006 and rose to 2.7 global hectares per person in this latest report.[3]

So, although New Zealand still has a relatively “clean and green” image, we’re not actually living up to this, which is starting to be noted internationally.  Henley pointed out that the MFE’s Environment Report 1997 highlighted real threats to our environmental reputation.  She also noted that 70 percent of New Zealanders do actually want balance in respect to sustainability and the environment, but that we need education to make that a possibility.

Worldwide, Henley states, buildings account for around 17 percent of all water consumption, 25 percent of wood harvest, 33 percent of CO2 emissions, 30-40 percent of energy use and 40-50 percent of all raw materials.  The sector we will be working in as interior designers uses a huge amount of resource, so has a big opportunity to make a difference.

The NZGBC has developed the NZ Green Star Framework, a Green Star rating tool which is used by the industry to rate buildings at various stages of their design, construction and operation.  There are 8 environmental categories as shown on the diagram below[4]:

Greenstarnz

A 4 Star Green Star NZ Certified rating signifies “best practice”, a 5 Star is “New Zealand Excellence” and a 6 Star is “World Leadership”.  Examples are 92 Albert Street, Auckland, which has a 4 Star rating, and BNZ Quay Park, which has a 5 Star rating (see my BNZ blog for further details on this).  It is interesting to note that any new government building must be a 5 Star rated building.

I believe that a care and concern for sustainable design provides us as designers with opportunities to become more innovative practitioners.  The areas of design innovation, I believe, will lie largely in new product development.  Designers working collaboratively with suppliers of products and materials are a great combination to produce new and innovative solutions driven by a sustainability requirement.

Our current studio brief was for a Cinema design based on a manga cartoon of our choice.  One element of my design that has been bothering me is the use of resin, which became integral to my project quite early on.  Resin is a toxic substance which produces fumes, especially when mixing and during setting.  I also felt that the model I had made was “just another bit of plastic” floating around in the world, which probably didn’t really need to be.  I needed a clear, hard, material that could be poured into a mould and set.  I looked at glass, but the price was prohibitive and I had concerns over the safety of glass in an installation such as I was planning.  I had heard of an “eco resin” and wanted to find out more.  I found a product by 3Form called ecoresin^tm, which has a 40 percent recycled content and can be reclaimed at the end of its life.  It is also a low-emitting product, which contributes positively to indoor air quality.  3Form also has a Low Impact policy, whereby they are aiming to eliminate the impact of their products on the environment.  By choosing other suppliers with similar values I would know that my brief was being carried out with sensitivity and care for the environment.  I could also include things such as light sensors, bike racks and low flow plumbing fittings to conserve water.

An exciting example of sustainable architecture I came across is the Spanish pavilion at Expo Zaragoza 2008, an international expo on “Water and Sustainable Development” which ran from 14 June to 14 September 2008.  The Spanish pavilion was designed by the architect Francisco Mangado, who says the building imitates a forest, and describes it as, “a natural space that is both so simple and so complex, in which the light penetrates the treetops, and the sound of water transports us to an experience which today, because of environmental deterioration and urban lifestyles, is almost a luxury” [5].

Spanish pavilion forest affect shading. Image by Francisco Mangado

 The forest of columns is made of terra cotta tubes with a metallic core.  When in contact with water, air currents are created within the building achieving an interior microclimate that has a cooling effect to counter the 40ºC in Zaragoza, without using excessive energy for air-conditioning.  The terra cotta columns also provide dappled shade to the interior.  Photovoltaic panels provide energy and heat when needed, and rainwater is collected in tanks for later use in the column cooling system.

Inside Spanish pavilion. Image by Francisco Mangado

One feature that could be improved is the remaining reliance on gas, which is used, in combination with the solar panels, to circulate hot water through the columns in winter[6].  Increased efficiency of the solar panels along with a greater capacity to store energy generated from the wind and sun would eventually remove the need to use a fossil fuel.

Buildings such as Mangado’s pavilion inspire and encourage us as designers to think seriously about sustainable design and how it can be incorporated into our work.  In Mangado’s case, the sustainability and self-reliance is integral to the design itself.  Sustainability must be “bought into” by everyone: designers, manufacturers, consumers and governments for it to work.  As designers we are in a position of responsibility both personally and professionally to “sell” this idea, to push the boundaries of innovation and encourage others to follow. 

In the same was as people say “if you don’t have your health, you don’t have anything”, the same can be said for earth and all its inhabitants: if we don’t have a healthy environment, we don’t have anything.

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[1] New Zealand Ministry for the Environment http://www.mfe.govt.nz/withyou/do/footprint/ accessed 31 October 2008

[2] WWF Press Release, Wednesday, 29 October 2008, 2:25 pm, Scoop Independent News http://www.scoop.co.nz/stories/PO0810/S00476.htm accessed 31 October 2008

[3] WWF Press Release, Wednesday, 29 October 2008, 2:25 pm, Scoop Independent News http://www.scoop.co.nz/stories/PO0810/S00476.htm accessed 31 October 2008

[4] Diagram from NZGBC website http://www.nzgbc.org.nz/index.php?option=com_content&task=blogcategory&id=80&Itemid=75 accessed 31 October 2008

[5] Treehugger website http://www.treehugger.com/files/2008/09/expo-2008-spanish-pavilion.php accessed 31 October 2008

[6] Cèsar Reyes, Ethel Baraona Pohl and Claudio Pirillo, Architecture Sustainable 5, 1st ed. (Valencia: Editorial Pencil, 2007).

Tales of the City: Transitory, transient, transformation

On 27 August, our class visited the ARTSPACE gallery on Karangahape Road in Auckland City.  The current exhibition at that time was “magazine station no. 5”, part of a participation art project by New York-based Thai artist Rirkrit Tiravanija. 

The two main aims/outcomes of the exhibition were: to engage the community in casual discussion, workshops and performances – basically to foster communication and interaction; and, to create the 5^th edition of Ver magazine, a publishing project run by Tiravanija and his partnership PLAN.b.  Previous editions of Ver have been created from exhibitions in Tokyo, Milan, Oslo and Berlin[1].  The resulting product from each event is an unbound, large format magazine and an accompanying CD presenting photographic images and sound recordings documenting the goings-on at each exhibition.

In groups, we were asked to venture out into the local “K’Rd” neighbourhood to conduct a site analysis.  Nikki, Wai and I put our inquisitiveness and observational skills into top gear and scanned the street, the buildings, the inhabitants and activity in the area, making a record of our sensory responses as we went.  Each group’s findings were then brought back to ARTSPACE for presentation to the class and, perhaps, to be included in the next edition of Ver magazine.

Later I will share a couple of our images and observations, but first I wanted to look further into Tiravanija’s work to understand how our group task related to the exhibition.

On the Ver website, the intended function of PLAN.b is to act “like bile, as an active agent bringing together people from various places and working collaboratively” [2].  The name of the magazine Ver is taken from the English word “over”, and is used in the context of meaning “across an intervening distance” [3].  So it speaks of a kind of coming together.

This involvement and coming together is not only evident in the Ver magazine series, but in Tiravanija’s individual work as well.  He is widely recognised for his installation-performances during which he cooks a meal for visitors to the exhibition.  In this sense, the visitors become participants and the importance, as noted by Anna Dezeuze, is placed on the performance and process rather than the finished object[4].  In Claire Bishop’s article Antagonism and Relational Aesthetics, she notes that “several critics, including Tiravanija himself, have observed that this involvement of the audience is the main focus of his work: the food is but a means to allow a convivial relationship between audience and artist to develop.”[5]

The term “relational aesthetics” comes from Nicolas Bourriaud’s 1997 collection of essays entitled Esthétique Rélationnel.  Bourriaud is co-director of the Palais de Tokyo in Paris, a contemporary art venue utilizing a studio or experimental “laboratory” concept rather than the “white cube” model familiar to many art galleries[6]. In his book, Bourriaud attempts to define artistic practice of the 1990s by stating that it is concerned with “the realm of human interactions and its social context, rather than the assertion of an independent and private symbolic space”[7].  So the significance or meaning of a work is arrived at collectively rather than individually; understanding and reading of relational art is dependent on both its environment and its audience.  Furthermore, the viewers or audience are actually coming together and creating a type of community as they participate in the art.  Bourriaud says “It seems more pressing to invent possible relations with our neighbours in the present than to bet on happier tomorrows”[8]. There is a theme of democracy and emancipation; a claim that relational art has political, democratic potential and that it frees up inter-human relations[9].  Of course, this is a significant claim to make and it is not without controversy and criticism.  Julia Svetlichnaja goes as far as to suggest that relational aesthetics promotes rather than resists the core ideology of the third spirit of capitalism[10].  However, I have not explored this further for the purposes of this piece.

For our purposes, relational aesthetics is about the here and now, “learning to inhabit the world in a better way” rather than trying to change it; instead of looking forward to a future utopia, this art sets up functioning “microtopias” in the present[11].  It is about use rather than contemplation.  Svetlichnaja highlights a quote used by Tiravanija, which was in turn borrowed from Wittgenstein: “Don’t look for the meaning, look for the use.”[12]

Frances DeVuono comments that Tiravanija’s pieces “welcome interactions from everyone, whether they are art initiated or not”[13].  He further suggests that museums and galleries in the Western world are realizing that “friendship and social relations are the last bastion of culture that needs archiving and explaining”[14] and that Tiravanija offers a new method of achieving this.

Keeping this understanding of Tiravanija’s work in mind, we can now go back to K’Rd and our site analysis where perhaps K’Rd has become a performance and a work of relational aesthetics in itself…

Here are a few images and observations from our research:

K'RD CLAN

To me, this image can be read as a strong statement about the local community in the K’Rd area.  The Shorter Oxford English Dictionary[15] defines the word “clan” as following:

clan ~ noun & verb

noun

1. A group of (esp. Highland) Scots claiming descent from a common ancestor, acknowledging a patriarchal chief, and usually all having the same surname.
2. Any similar tribal division or group; a (large) close-knit family
3. A group of people having shared attributes; a party, a coterie, a set.
4. A group of objects, animals, plants, etc., sharing common origins or attributes

verb

1. Combine (together) as members of a clan

These characteristics and definitions of “clan” (especially definitions 2. and 3.) can be applied to the community we observed on K’Rd.  From the 1920s onwards, Karangahape Road was “stamping itself permanently in the collective psyche of Auckland society as a significant and diverse urban area.”[16]  It was forging its own identity, becoming a concept in and of itself.

Although we observed diversity in the demographic groups and communities inhabiting K’Rd, there is also a sense of cohesion, a feeling of belonging to a wider group.  The Karangahape Road Business Association states among its values that it is “embracing of a diversity of individuals, cultures and communities”.[17]  This embracing could be seen as similar to the verb “clan”, as in to clan together. 

When we observe all the different people and their activities in K’Rd, it is not a stretch to imagine them as a participatory audience in one of Tiravanija’s performance-events; they are coming together, using K’Rd and leaving their mark as a kind of communication.  We are, in effect, going into their world and documenting their social interactions in a similar way to Tiravanija and PLAN.b in Ver magazine.

As a slight aside, it seems significant that this word is cemented onto a brick wall in the K’Rd area, like a name on a letterbox or on a house, it is a possessive gesture, the locals have claimed their patch and are communicating this to the public at large.  In observing the nameplate, it is interesting that feelings of both inclusion into and exclusion from the local group are present.

K'Rd Rubbish Bin

I chose to include this image because it reminds me of Tiravanija’s Untitled (Still) performance in 1992 where he cooked curry for the gallery visitors and left the detritus (food packets, leftovers, utensils) in the gallery, which then became the art exhibit – a kind of documentation of the interactions that had taken place there. 

The items in this rubbish bin on K’Rd act in a similar way.  They document the events, performances or interactions that have taken place recently on K’Rd.  The discarded items have been used in the performance (as opposed to contemplated) and the bin and even K’Rd itself becomes like a gallery or stage.

In summary, our observations and documentation of the comings and goings on K’Rd are comparable to Tiravanija’s work and relational aesthetics in that K’Rd can be considered an experimental “laboratory” where the participants are the occupants of K’Rd and the exhibition or artwork is created by their actions and captured by our cameras.

On that note, it would be great to see some of our images in the 5^th edition of Ver!

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[1] http://www.artspace.org.nz/exhibitions/2008/rirkrittiravanija.asp, accessed on 27 October 2008

[2] http://www.verver.info/office.html, accessed on 28 October 2008

[3] http://www.verver.info/office.html, accessed on 28 October 2008

[4] Anna Dezeuze, "Everyday Life, 'Relational Aesthetics' and the 'Transfiguration of the Commonplace'," Journal of Visual Art Practice 5.3 (2006) 143-152.

[5] Claire Bishop, "Antagonism and Relational Aesthetics," October.110 (2004) 51-80.

[6] Claire Bishop, "Antagonism and Relational Aesthetics," October.110 (2004) 51-80.

[7] Nicolas Bourriaud, Relational Aesthetics, (Dijon: Les Presses du Réel, 2002) 17.

[8] Nicolas Bourriaud, Relational Aesthetics, (Dijon: Les Presses du Réel, 2002) 45.

[9] Julia Svetlichnaja, "Relational Paradise as a Delusional Democracy - a Critical Response to a Temporary Contemporary Relational Aesthetics," BISA Conference (University of St. Andrews, St. Andrews, Scotland: 2005)

[10] Julia Svetlichnaja, "Relational Paradise as a Delusional Democracy - a Critical Response to a Temporary Contemporary Relational Aesthetics," BISA Conference (University of St. Andrews, St. Andrews, Scotland: 2005)

[11] Nicolas Bourriaud, Relational Aesthetics, (Dijon: Les Presses du Réel, 2002) 13.

[12] Julia Svetlichnaja, "Relational Paradise as a Delusional Democracy - a Critical Response to a Temporary Contemporary Relational Aesthetics," BISA Conference (University of St. Andrews, St. Andrews, Scotland: 2005)

[13] Frances DeVuono, "Modern-Day Anthropology: Rirkrit Tiravanija Goes to Work," New Art Examiner 26.10 (1999) 26-29.

[14] Frances DeVuono, "Modern-Day Anthropology: Rirkrit Tiravanija Goes to Work," New Art Examiner 26.10 (1999) 26-29.

[15] William R. Trumble, Shorter Oxford English Dictionary on Historical Principles, eds. Lesley Brown and Angus Stevenson, 5th ed. (Oxford; New York: Oxford University Press, 2002).

[16] http://www.kroad.co.nz/kroad/history/1920.asp, accessed 28 October 2008

[17] http://www.kroad.co.nz/kroad/values/default.asp, accessed 28 October 2008

Ugly & Ordinary

This week’s lecture looked at the possibilities and restrictions implied by the assertion of boundaries upon the human form, occupancy and the provocations those conditions generate.

We were asked to write about how we might consider designing for general populations when having to consider potential political issues.  In order to answer this, I felt I first had to unpack the terms “general population” and “political issues”.  I also wanted to understand the reference in the lecture to Jacques Rancière and his quote “the ordinary becomes beautiful as a trace of the true”[1], which is where I will start this blog.

One of Rancière’s key ideas in regard to the politics of aesthetics is “The Distribution of the Sensible”.  “Sensible”, in this case, means the ability to be understood by the senses; the ability to be seen, heard and the ability to speak.  “Distribution” can be viewed as a continuum of these abilities.  For my own understanding, I drew the following diagrams as an illustration of this idea:

diagram 1

diagram 2

Part of this distribution is the labelling or identifying of each member of the society in relation to his or her sense-ability (their ability to be understood by the senses).  Some people have more visibility, audibility or ability to speak than others; some have less or even none at all.  This sets up a system or an established framework of identification and classification, which Rancière refers to as police or police order[2].  It establishes borders between the visible and the invisible, the audible and the inaudible, the sayable and the unsayable.

When the people outside these borders (the excluded, the marginal, the anonymous individuals who have no part in the common world or society) attempt to challenge or “take a stand” against the existing framework they are attempting to implement equality.  Rancière calls these acts politics[3].  It is interesting to note here Rancière’s definition of equality: “equality is not a goal to be attained but a presupposition in need of constant verification”[4].  So it is something that needs to be continually worked at.  We will never just “arrive” at equality, it needs to be verified and reconfirmed all the time.

These anonymous individuals first began to become noticed (visible) in literature, where writers such as Balzac, Hugo and Flaubert investigated and described a whole era and society through the lives and environments of ordinary (anonymous, invisible) people.  Previous to this, there was a strong connection between the subject matter and the mode of representation.  For example, a rich nobleman would be represented in a painting of a tragedy, whereas a lower class person would be sketched in a comedy.  The new approach by these writers was the beginning of the anonymous becoming more visible.  Truth was studied and valued, and this new visibility and representation of people who had previously gone unnoticed was considered to be a search for and celebration of the truth.  Hence Rancière’s statement “the ordinary becomes beautiful as a trace of the true”[5].

An example of this provided in the lecture was a replica of a Guantanamo Bay detention centre cell reconstructed in a Swedish shopping mall.  The replica cell was created by the father of Mehdi Ghezali, a Swedish citizen of Algerian descent, who was captured by the Americans and held without trial at Guantanamo Bay in Cuba.  The recontextualising of the cell illustrates the boundary between the visible and the invisible and gives a voice and visibility to the hundreds of (mostly anonymous) people held at Guantanamo Bay.  It is an act which attempts to take a stand against the accepted framework and investigate the truth about how and why these people are held captive.

Going back to the original question on how we might approach a design for general populations when having to consider potential political issues, I have decided to use the example of “gated communities”, which are becoming increasingly common in the US[6].

A gated community is essentially a town where everything is monitored and controlled minimise any unpleasantness, such as unkempt yards or theft and vandalism.  Two examples of gated communities are Seaside and Celebration in Florida, although both try to distance themselves from this label.  Seaside was used to film scenes of The Truman Show, where the main character lives an impossibly perfect life in an impossibly ‘perfect’ town, which later turns out to be the massive set of a reality TV-show.

Seaside Florida

2seaside

Celebration is a town developed by Walt Disney Corporation, which first opened to residents in 1996.  Enforcement in Celebration is handled by the Covenants Committee, which will issue warnings before assessing fines.  There is also a twice-yearly inspection of the town and rules such as: no more than two cars per household can be parked on the street; trash cans must be stored out of site on non-pick-up days; and certain types of vehicles, such as campers, can only be parked on the street for a restricted length of time.[7]  It is interesting to note that in the 2000 Census, Celebration’s ethnicity was recorded as being 93.6 percent White[8], and the diversity quotient of Seaside falls well below that of the state of Florida generally.[9] 

Celebration_1

Celebration, Florida, USA

Neighbourhood watch groups and anonymous informant phone numbers as well as prolific surveillance cameras and security patrols are found in many of these communities.  According to Sven Lütticken in his article Park Life, “Celebration, like Seaside, defines the good life in terms of a secession from the rest of society.  The big bad world has to be kept at bay.”[10]  There is a definite feeling of “them” and “us”, of fear and otherness.  The gated communities, even if they do not literally have walls and gates at their perimeter (although some actually do), “exude a strong sense of unity, which gives ‘undesirable visitors’ the impression that they do not belong here.”[11]

This act of withdrawing from wider society and setting up a smaller, managed society could be seen as a political act, although it would be difficult to argue that the residents in Seaside or Celebration are anonymous or excluded.  What seems more exclusionary are the rules, regulations, monitoring and policing that occurs within these towns.  These strategies could be employed when designing for general populations in consideration of potential political issues such as crime, rubbish and aesthetics in general, however, they are not an ideal solution and will only lead to further re-distributions of the sensible once excluded members feel strongly enough to push for change.

The next question we were asked was how we would develop a design for a structure when the operation of the site contravenes your personal conviction and concepts of how we ought to interact with others.  For this question, I researched the example of psychiatric asylums and the relatively recent idea of deinstitutionalisation.  My initial thought was that complete confinement of people with mental disorders in an asylum contravenes my own personal beliefs and values, a view shared by those pushing for deinstitutionalisation of these people and greater inclusion into the community.  This was reinforced by Daniel Schreber’s account of his own confinement: “Many of the activities and delusions described in the memoirs were presented as by-products of this forced interiority: It was precisely the silence of this situation, Schreber argued, that produced the effect of noise and other hallucinations”[12].

Two ideas that are spread throughout the writings I found on asylums are exclusion and classification: exclusion meaning to physically and spatially separate people from the community, which can be motivated by wanting to place affected people in an environment which will be beneficial to their treatment and recovery, or by a need for social control and custody; and classification meaning a “preoccupation with diagnosis, sorting and labelling”[13].

Towards the end of the twentieth century, the trend towards deinstitutionalisation began and people with mental health problems were moved from asylums on the outskirts of towns into the urban community.  My initial response to this was positive; I believe everyone should have a part in the community and that no one should be hidden away.  However, Graham Moon suggested that “deinstitutionalisation accomplished…the replacement of ‘concealed others’ with ‘visible others’.  The confinement of potential violence was exchanged for a visible (perceived) threat to safety.”[14]  So in an attempt to include those people which were previously excluded from the community, a lack of understanding from the general public can create a negative situation driven by fear and actually recreate an “asylum without walls”[15].  After a little research, my original conviction and opposition to confinement has lessened.

If I were to develop a design for residential care of people with mental health problems, I would first want to know the extent of their illness and their potential risk or dangerousness to the public.  This would seem to be a return to the classification and labelling of people, but what it does enable is a more tailored and selective approach to individual care.  Some individuals who do pose a threat to the public would, I think, need to be confined in some way.  Part of me still disagrees with this, so in my design I would try to include features which allowed the patients some sense of community and ability to feel a degree of freedom and perhaps even communicate with others in a safe way.  This could be via the Internet or in a room or rooms where all possible aids to violence are removed, i.e. padded walls, soft furniture, maybe calming music and lighting.  Other, less dangerous patients, perhaps such as Daniel Schreber, could be allowed more access to the community, especially if it improved their symptoms.  

When considering points of contact you can maintain with others, I would determine my safety mostly upon my knowledge of the other person.  If it is a person I know very well, I would feel safe and secure up to the point of touch.  I would also feel safe and secure (although not to the same degree) if that person was someone who I agreed to let touch me after knowing their intentions and perhaps qualifications (for example, a doctor).  If it is someone I do not know at all I would be more cautious.  If it is someone on the street or at a bar wanting to contact me by talking, I would feel reasonably safe and secure as long as there were other people around and that the conversation was general (as opposed to personal).  If someone came to my door, they would have to prove they had a legitimate reason to be there before I considered even talking to them!

When considering speaking to someone on the street or in a bar, I would translate this into a designed space by creating space where people could communicate casually while others were nearby.  I would avoid creating hidden or secluded spaces and I would ensure that there was a degree of visibility to all areas.  This wouldn’t have to be direct, and could be semi-screened, but as long as the feeling of others being close-by was maintained, I think this would be sufficient.

 

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[1] Jacques Rancière, The Politics of Aesthetics. Trans. Gabriel Rockhill. (London: Continuum, 2004) 34.

[2] Jacques Rancière, The Politics of Aesthetics. Trans. Gabriel Rockhill. (London: Continuum, 2004) 89.

[3] Jacques Rancière, The Politics of Aesthetics. Trans. Gabriel Rockhill. (London: Continuum, 2004) 90.

[4] Jacques Rancière, The Politics of Aesthetics. Trans. Gabriel Rockhill. (London: Continuum, 2004) 3.

[5] Jacques Rancière, The Politics of Aesthetics. Trans. Gabriel Rockhill. (London: Continuum, 2004) 34.

[6] Harm Tilman, "Architecture in Control Societies - Security as a Selling Point," Open 6. Angst: (In) security (2004) 88-103.

[7] http://www.celebrationinfo.com, accessed on 26 October 2008

[8] http://factfinder.census.gov, accessed on 26 October 2008

[9] Jill Grant, "The Challenges of Achieving Social Objectives through Mixed Use," New Urbanism and Beyond, ed. Tigran Haas (New York: Rizzoli, 2008) 80-85.

[10] Sven Lütticken, "Park Life," Open, Angst: (In) security (2004) 72-87.

[11] Harm Tilman, "Architecture in Control Societies - Security as a Selling Point," Open 6. Angst: (In) security (2004) 88-103.

[12] Felicity D. Scott, "Productions of Incarceration: The Architecture of Daniel Paul Schreber," In Crime and Ornament - the Arts and Popular Culture in the Shadow of Adolf Loos, eds. Bernie Miller and Melony Ward (Toronto: YYZ Books, 2001) 52.

[13] Deborah C. Park and John P. Radford, "Space, Place and the Asylum: An Introduction," Health & Place 3.2 (1997) 71-72.

[14] Graham Moon, "Risk and Protection: The Discourse of Confinement in Contemporary Mental Health Policy," Health & Place 6.3 (2000) 239-250.

[15] Graham Moon, "Risk and Protection: The Discourse of Confinement in Contemporary Mental Health Policy," Health & Place 6.3 (2000) 239-250.

BNZ Quay Park site visit

On 3 September, we were lucky enough to be shown through the new BNZ building in Quay Park by Wendy Jones, the project manager of the building project, and Julia Vercoe, BNZ’s internal interior designer.

 

BNZ Quay Park - image from www.rcp.co.nz/bnz-quay-park

BNZ Quay Park is situated at 30 Mahuhu Crescent in the Quay Park precinct in downtown Auckland.  This building, along with BNZ’s other two main building projects at 80 Queen Street, Auckland and another in Wellington, are all 5 star Green Star rated.  This means they have achieved “New Zealand Excellence” in sustainable design, as defined by the New Zealand Green Building Council (NZGBC)[1].

Within the NZ Green Star rating system there are 3 stages for the base building: new design, as built and in use performance, as shown in the NZGBC diagram below[2]. 

Greenstarnzsystem_1

 A building project can lodge an application for certification at each of these stages, which is then assessed by NZGBC to ensure the building has met the standards.  There is another stage for the interior fitout of a building, which is due to be released in NZ later this year.  For their interiors, BNZ have used the Australian standards as a guide until the NZ standard is released.

BNZ and their owners National Australia Bank Group (NAB) are committed to becoming carbon neutral by September 2010[3].  More and more companies are realising their corporate responsibility in relation to the environment and are demanding their suppliers do the same.  In their Corporate Responsibility Procurement Policy[4], NAB detail the steps they endeavour to take to ensure they and their suppliers are being socially responsible and minimising their impact on the environment. These steps include screening NAB’s suppliers in relation to their environmental, social and ethical performance and evaluating purchases with consideration for the full (social and environmental) cost over their lifecycle.

Examples of suppliers chosen to work on the BNZ project are Formway and Interface.  Formway, the supplier of the workstations (which are formaldehyde-free and have multiple configurations to enable reuse of the product as the business grows or changes) rates a perfect 7/7 on the Green Star tool and have incorporated sustainability into their day-to-day operations with methods that use less water and less energy.  Interface supplied the carpet, the backing of which is fully recycled and will be recycled again at the end of its life in approximately 15 years. 

Wendy also mentioned other certification organisations in NZ, such as Environmental Choice New Zealand and Greenbuild, both of which assess building materials against certain criteria then, once their criteria is met, allow the manufacturer of the product to display their logo.  This makes it easier for purchasers to know the authenticity of any claims of sustainability made by a supplier.

The flow of analysis and information goes both ways, with NAB stating that they will seek their suppliers’ views on NAB’s own performance and supply chain management as well.  For us as designers, this not only means that we need to be fully up-to-date and have a working knowledge of the Green Star rating system, but that we must be able to look critically at our clients’ businesses and offer advice and innovation to help them improve their sustainability.

Wendy’s concluding comments and words of advice have stuck in my mind since our visit to BNZ Quay Park.  She urged us, as designers, to think carefully about every choice we make and to think early!  She noted that we can have a significant impact on a project early on in the process, ideally as early as when the base building is in the initial stages of design.

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[1] NZGBC website http://www.nzgbc.org.nz/index.php?option=com_content&task=blogcategory&id=80&Itemid=75 accessed 10 September 2008

[2] Diagram from NZGBC website http://www.nzgbc.org.nz/index.php?option=com_content&task=blogcategory&id=80&Itemid=75 accessed on 10 September 2008

[3] BNZ website http://www.bnz.co.nz/About_Us/1,1184,3-156-702,00.html accessed on 10 September 2008

[4] NAB website http://www.nabgroup.com/0,,91277,00.html accessed on 10 September 2008

Bathroom Equipment & Cleansing Rituals - Maison de Verre

Chareau’s design strategies provide the opportunity for users to customise their environments to suit their individual needs for privacy during bathing.  Moveable screens, doors and shelves let the user slide their privacy around them as required, without having to permanently shut the space off. 

In the Maison de Verre, every bedroom has its own bathroom or washing facilities, which I would consider to be somewhat unconventional.  The main bedroom has an adjoining bathroom while the two children’s bedrooms have dressing/bathing areas within the bedrooms themselves.  The guest bathroom is located at the end of the hallway next to the daughter’s bedroom.

The main materials used in the bathrooms are rubber tiles, ceramic tiles, steel and bent duraluminium.  The materials feel quite industrial and sterile.  Throughout the house, including the bathrooms, glass blocks provide diffused natural light while most artificial light is directed upward and reflected down into the room, rather than being directed down and focused on a specific area or subject.  This provides an airy, light atmosphere without the exposure and vulnerability of natural light obtained through transparent, clear glass, or the harshness of direct artificial light.  In particular, there is a glass block wall/window between the bath in the daughter’s bedroom and the darker visitor’s bathroom, so the light is transferred and used in two spaces without compromising privacy in either.

There are five bidets in total on the second floor; each is mechanised and able to swivel or move across the floor.  This seems an excessive number of bidets for a 3-bedroom apartment; however, when you consider the client’s occupation (he was a gynaecologist) this is perhaps not so surprising.  Only the guest bathroom contains a WC.  Separate WCs are located next to the main bedroom, one with access from the main bedroom and one with access from the hallway.

It is also interesting to note that the main bathroom is quite large and complex.  It is almost same size as (if not larger than) the main bedroom.  The numerous fixed and mobile screens create an “outer” area and an “inner” area within the bathroom.  It seems that great effort has been made to provide privacy in this bathroom, which is used only by a husband and wife – presumably in an intimate relationship and requiring minimal privacy from each other.  When this bathroom is compared to the ground floor doctor’s rooms, where perhaps patients would require a high level of privacy (at least initially), the doctor’s consulting, exam and surgery rooms appear to have no internal privacy or screens whatsoever.

The bathing areas in the children’s bedrooms can be partially concealed by sliding perforated metal screens.  The screens are “mobile, perfectly balanced and absolutely silent” [1] .  One question that comes to mind when considering these areas is whether the screens are to give the bather privacy while washing, or whether they are designed to hide the “unsightly” washing facilities when not in use?  If we are talking about privacy for the bather, the partial transparency and free sound transmission allowed by the screens would limit the privacy provided.

For me, bathing in each of the different bathrooms would be quite a different experience.  In the main bathroom, I would appreciate the privacy and convenience of the shelving and enjoy the light coming from the glass blocks to the terrace.  In the children’s bathing areas, however, I think I would feel a little exposed being hidden only by a screen!  The exception is the bath in the daughter’s bedroom, which I feel is nicely and cleverly hidden by the sliding bookcase while still gaining light through the glass blocks.

 

Reference:

[1]  Taylor, Brian Brace. Pierre Chareau: Designer and Architect. Cologne: Taschen, 1992.

 

Space and The Uncanny

1. What are the key points of Vidler’s argument (do not paraphrase him –you need to write down your own ideas and interpretations).

Vidler’s article starts by talking about the history and changing importance of space in relation to architecture and psychology.  Space has meant different things to different people over time.  To modernist architects, such as Le Corbusier, open space was an answer to all the social problems of the old structures and cities.  When a house or city is open and transparent, there is nowhere for disease, dirt or danger to hide – everything is visible and can be monitored.

In psychology, the opposite phobias of agoraphobia (fear of open or public spaces) and claustrophobia (fear of enclosed spaces) are clearly related to a person’s relationship to space.  Le Corbusier determined that by creating minimal contrast (unbroken space) between open spaces and closed spaces, between interior and exterior, these spatial anxieties (attributed to urbanism) could be reduced.

Vidler also talked about Rachel Whiteread’s project House and offered possible classifications and interpretations of the work in relation to historic movements or ideals and psychological theories, particularly the uncanny.

On one hand, House could be considered as anti-modernist because it captured and recorded in plaster an unhealthy and claustrophobic past; it prevented the clearing away of debris from the problematic old city to make way for the new.  On the other hand, the abstract reversal of inside and outside allows House to fit into the modernist classification as well. 

Many reviews and critiques talked about the uncanny nature of House, a feeling brought to the surface by the possibility that the dwelling’s domestic inhabitants have been, in effect, buried alive.  A home once buzzing with family life has been abruptly silenced and preserved.

In the Compact Oxford English Dictionary, “uncanny” is defined as “strange or mysterious”.  Whiteread’s work is in this sense secretive; you can only imagine what might be inside, you can’t actually go in and have a look.

Vidler referred to Freud’s essay entitled “The Uncanny”, which linked an uncanny feeling to nostalgia, described by Freud as a primal desire to return to the origin, the womb.  House rules out this option with stark finality – there is absolutely no way home, no retreat to the known, the comfortable.  The observer is cast outside into the unknown, the unheimlich, the uncanny.

 

2. What do you understand by the term uncanny? Can you identify some uncanny aspects in the dwelling you are currently living in? Please provide an image/drawing/or movie and describe (in your own words) what makes this domestic space/or object uncanny.

As in my answer above, I understand “uncanny” to mean something strange or mysterious; something uncomfortable, a disturbing feeling of unfamiliarity in relation to something which on the surface is familiar.  I read a little of Vidler’s book “The Architectural Uncanny” and was interested in the terms heimlich and unheimlich. 

Although the words have several differing definitions, heimlich generally means homely, belonging to the home or family, known, comfortable, whereas unheimlich is generally the opposite; eerie, weird, unhomely.  So at first, these two words are completely opposite, however, on further investigation of their usage it seems that heimlich can also be used to mean something hidden from the eyes of strangers, concealed from the public – a meaning very close to that of unheimlich!  This makes a surface understanding of the words and their application difficult, especially when they are being used to define something else (i.e. the uncanny).   

Our Uncanny Tree(s):

Our Uncanny Tree

An example of something uncanny in my house is the tree trunk(s) that grows right over the entrance to our property.  It is impossible to tell if it is two trees or one that has put down roots either side of our path – you can’t see where one tree ends and another begins.  The archway creates a distinct threshold.  As you walk through it, you feel like you are entering a kind of mysterious, magical world, a feeling enhanced by the vacant, run-down dwelling on a huge section of land next door to us.  Stories of people who had lived (and died) there, stories of hauntings were discussed as soon as we moved in.  The tree causes an uncanny feeling, I think, because:

1. the tree hides our house and gives it a feeling of secrecy;
2. it is unfathomable as to how the tree(s) grew like that in the first place, and;
3. it creates a threshold, a condition of change.  Change is most often something that is unknown and is sometimes uncomfortable.

 

WORKSHOP 2: Considering thresholds

We were asked to consider the range of human senses and what design implications might arise from a lack of these senses...

1.   How does a client with a range of special needs require you to adjust to them?

For a client or group of clients who have some form of blindness, as a designer I would need to take this into account by using the other four senses (touch, taste, hearing and smell) extensively in my communication and design.  An obvious way to make use of touch is with textures and relief , much like Braille.  Ridges or bumps on the walls or floors could be used to communicate to visually impaired people for the purpose of way-finding or to help them connect to and enjoy a space.

Sound would play a large role in designing a space for visually impaired people.  Many visually impaired people use their hearing to establish the location, size and other characteristics of people and objects around them.  Taking this a step further, some blind people have learned a technique called “ echolocation ”, where the person makes a noise (usually a clicking noise) and uses the echo of the sound hitting nearby objects to determine the nature and location of those objects.  As a designer, I would need to be careful not to construct confusing spaces where sounds bounce around too much and take advantage of the blind people’s skill and sensitivity in hearing by making different spaces with their own unique sound.  The materials and angles of surfaces would be important for echolocation.

Reference: http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/uk/article3341739.ece , accessed 19 August 2008.

 

1a.   You are asked by a blind person where the emergency exits are…

If a blind person asked me where the emergency exits are, I would have to either take them myself or explain the route, turns and distances verbally, being as accurate as possible.  Depending on what type of building we are in, there might be specially designed features (such as a textured way-finding stripe on the floor, or a handrail), which lead to the exits.  If I knew of these features I would either show or explain this to the blind person.

 

2.   How might being a designer with a special need dictate your perception of the lived environment, your own, and others?

If I was a designer who is blind, I would need some kind of system to describe things like colour and transparency to me.  I would be able to analyse sizes, spatial relationships and textures through echolocation and touch, but colour is a bit more difficult.  I suppose it is something you would have to ‘learn’ through someone else – what colours go together and which ones don’t.  Perhaps I would become a specialist in designing pure white or neutral coloured spaces with unique spatial and textural considerations.

 

2a.   You ask a blind person where the emergency exits are…

If I were to ask a blind person where the emergency exits are, I would expect that they either wouldn’t know, or that they would be able to describe it verbally to me.  They may also be able to describe it by touch – what the floor or wall surfaces were like on the way to the exits.

3.   If the overall skills and techniques of the designer are cited as a ‘design language’ how might special needs, and differences in spoken languages interact in a final design, in shared spaces: Consider the idea of an international airport terminal, museums, galleries, hospitals where conditions of safety, regulations, security, relaxation and service industries collide.   How will YOU as a designer accommodate these things?

The easiest way to accommodate these criteria would be to use internationally recognised images or symbols (this, of course, assumes everyone is visually able – there would need to be an additional system for blind people).  People can be guided and informed by things like arrows, pictures of man/woman indicating the toilets, a plane taking off for departure lounges, a plane landing for arrivals.  You’d have to be careful though – I read an article once about a company who advertised tinned baby food in Africa by putting a picture of a baby on the label…locals were horrified to think that the contents of the tin were actually mashed human baby!

Response to "SURVEILLANCE" lecture, 06.08.08

In this lecture, it was the contrasts between the highly visible interior of the Big Brother house and the hidden interior of the house at 25 Cromwell Street that I found particularly interesting.

On the BB set, camera angles are the dictators of space. The feeling of being watched, the lack of privacy, causes people to act in a certain way.  The few walls are constructed to give the camera (and viewers at home) the best view of the interior of the house and its inhabitants.  Everything is very open, exposed; clean and sanitised. There is no dirt, no decay and no lasting evidence of inhabitation.  The interior of the house is like a display cabinet, showing every movement of the people (or puppets?) inside.

Rosemary and Fred West’s house at 25 Cromwell Street was more like a curtain or a cloak, keeping hidden the interior, its people and their actions.  It is interesting that in this case, not being watched allows people to act a certain way.  Secrets, clues and reminders of what has happened in the house are stashed or buried deep inside.  Dirt and decay are everywhere; inhabitation (and worse!) is evidenced and recorded in what is collected behind the seemingly benign exterior.

Artist Joseph Beuys was introduced in the lecture, with an image of his 1974 “action” or performance entitled “I Like America and America Likes Me”.  Beuys saw performance art as a tool for self-healing and social transformation.  He had utopian ideals and believed in the power of human creativity, the potential for art to bring about revolutionary change.  His performances were designed to tap into the viewer’s passionate, creative soul and encourage spiritual evolution.

In “I Like America and America Likes Me”, Beuys was wrapped in fabric and taken to the gallery in an ambulance.  He then spent several days in a room with only a blanket, a torch, a stick, daily copies of the newspaper and a live coyote.

To me, the intriguing thing about this “action” in relation to today’s lecture is that it has elements of both exposure and the concealed.  Beuys deliberately put himself on public display in the gallery, but allowed himself a blanket to shield him from the viewers’ or spectators’ gaze.

 

Reference:

Website: http://www.walkerart.org/archive/5/9D43B5DB685147C46167.htm accessed on 13.08.08, article by Emily Rekow, Walker Art Center Department of Education and Community Programs

Response to "SOUP" lecture, 30.07.08

After this lecture, I undertook some further research into a few of the people and ideas discussed.

The lecture started out talking about Melanie Klein, an Austrian-born psychoanalyst who researched and created new therapeutic techniques for children.  She is also considered a co-founder of the “Object Relations Theory”, the idea that the ego-self exists only in relation to other objects.  This theory proposed that there are only three relationships that can exist between the self and the other object: attachment, frustration and rejection.  A basic example is an infant’s ego-self in relation to the “object” being its mother (or a part-object being a mother’s breast).  If the mother/breast is providing milk as demanded by the child, the child will adore (love) the mother and feel an attachment relationship to her.  If the mother/breast is not providing milk, the child will feel extreme frustration (hate) and rejection.

The images presented in the lecture showed children playing with various objects, many of which were large enough for them to climb in and around.  Psychoanalysts were monitoring the children’s actions and behaviour in relationship to the objects. 

It is interesting to conduct a similar, informal study of people in public spaces.  For example, observing people at a beach – how do they relate to the objects around them?  Do they pick up a stick and throw it?  Do they climb up on a low fence and walk along it?  Do they take their shoes off and walk in the water?  Do they avoid the water?  Do they walk on the soft sand or the hard sand? 

Another example is in a library.  Which seats or desks are most frequently sat at; which are avoided?  Are people quieter in some areas than others?

As spatial designers, it is important to consider the relationship people are likely to have with objects and spaces and that this could change from person to person, or between groups of people.

We also looked briefly at Callum Morton's work.  In particular, I was interested in his piece "International Style", which is a model of Farnsworth House, an iconic piece of architecture, reproduced at a smaller 1:50 scale, with added sound and light effects.  The sound effects are particularly unexpected as they suggest some kind of violence occurring within the house.  The change in scale of the well-known house along with the disturbing sound effects create an eerie, unsettling feeling.  It is not comfortable, not what you expect.

This is interesting to us as spatial designers as it helps us to consider impact of changes to something that is common, comfortable, well-known.