Embraced a verdant New England

At 2:00 this afternoon we made a decisive move that changed our perceptions of the City forever - we decided to cross the bridge and tread upon a shore that we are so close by and so distant from at the same time. The lunch itself was so-so but as we took a left turn at N Street we found an exciting buzz and murmur of a street crowd that we have yearned for. As we strolled down the street (as an attempt to escape from the shadow of a cloud that has been constantly hovering above our heads in Village C) we hopped in and out of every happy niche on two sides.

Perhaps a wonderful day like this should, in lieu of being contaminated by my own writing, be enriched by further imaginations?

processing? processing what?

Two weeks have quietly passed since the 'd-day'. To my relief, the stress has not quite acted on me yet - having run all the errands and done all the chores concerning my semester leave I find myself watching each second passes by purposelessly (with the aid of re-re-re-runs on my cableless TV), which feels great.

But the relaxed mode did not last long. I did not hesitate at all to, finally, dwell into processing - a programming environment that I refrained from touching last semester. To a great extent I consider my ignorance in programming environments a shame - was it a good thing that I got around Mark's studio without scripting a single line? Anyhow, my first attempt was proved unproductive - mostly due to the fact that my TV is on during the whole time while I was reading about the basic syntaxes of processing. But with my currentl level of adrenalin I think it is impressive enough that I could gather my will to at least get started.

For the same reason, my mind was wandering in outer space yesterday for my kids' final review. I first came late for the preparation of the room, swanned off multiple times during Bill's clown show and constantly gazed at the air particles (and the trajectory of his saliva droplets) whenever he spoke. Lame as it may sound but I blamed my 'depraved indifference' towards the organization of the review on our different views on architecture. At least subconsciously I wanted to show how much disrespect I have for him. A sensitive gay man of his age, of course, did not miss my somewhat blatant display of rebellion. I was waiting to see when that bubble of 'puritan/ anglo-saxon impartiality' would be engulfed by pure anger, which, to my surprise, did not emerge (though came pretty close). The price of entertaining myself by being a prick is, of course, a decent reference letter. Well, why should I care?

Perhaps I would care had he not invited that silly eunuch to my crit room. His apparent lack of self-confidence among his professional peers clearly fueled an 'inspiring' speech for the first year kids. Unfortunately however, his monologue did not translate into love and respect - at least from my point of view, since the more he spoke, the more I felt the urge to poke at him. I was even a little concerned when yung-ho came in - what an embarassment, to have invited a critic of that quality.

I do notice that whenever I carry that hubris around with me something bad is destined to happen. I have not a single reason to bring up the miracle of science episode again - what more could I say? karma turned around and bite me.

all these blend description of how a day passed by like water running down a stream... give me another day - perhaps my diary will be enriched by a few images of some processing stuff of which I would be proud?

apocalypse, Chris Marker and my craving for a beach barbeque

it's been a long time since I last posted something here. Studio has gone a long long way from mid term to final. But my life and experience did not accelerate accordingly - they are just remarkably slow in proceeding forward.

London London! After counting down for studio final it is time for a London countdown. I get there on the 22nd June and start working in the lonely city on the 3rd July. the city's 'high Modern' flavor notwithstanding, it is actually quite archaic - its language (the persistent use of the word 'surname', as opposed to last name, often sends a chill up my spine), food (either indian or shepherd pies. Food for barbarians) and metabolism (which is, to me, noted for that strange, unique sense of viscosity) could easily put me into a deep, contemplative melancholy. Afterall, it is a city of black trenchcoats and black umbrellas. But as usual, I will be forced to anticipate, enthusiastically, yet another great adventure and sweep all my unnecessary apprehensions aside. But since when did Cambridge feel so much like a safe haven to me?

I cannot help but to think that the semester is approaching an apocalyptic stage again. Perhaps not so much for the school itself - afterall, it is a system that flourishes upon annual regeneration. For me, however, it feels like everything has to be razed down to ground zero - an apartment that I finally got myself acquainted to, a breathtaking view that delivers the 'sublime' at my disposal, a friendly neighborhood... all these memories, along with my nomad gears, will be swept into a 5x7 cell and left ferment for 6 months in a building that seems infinite . Until then I will harness my sentiments onto something/someone/somewhere else.

To construct a Self that I am not in order to shelter myself - that is my ultimate architectural aspiration. Want to see my latest construction/ fabrication?

2 weeks in Hong Kong, I hope, will serve well as a buffer between two intense experiences. My latest discovery on my travel agenda informs me that I will not be able to attend John's wedding - what a shame. It could very well evolve into the worst, and thus the most entertaining, wedding of the 21st century. What strikes me is not only the level of organization/disorganization which is, as far as I know, literally unheard of, but also the cast that will participate in this act of sheer baffoonery: a 42 year-old virgin who refuses to grow up is marrying a 41 year-old accountant who has probably grown up too much. To me it sounds very much like a 17 year-old marrying a 61 year-old, or a monkey trying on a gorilla's suit.

And I pray to god that no one is reading this.

Should I consider myself lucky, that I already have a long list of visitors in London well before the trip actually starts? Steph's arrival will be quite exciting but I am a little concerned that the responsibility of figuring out the 'logistics' would fall upon me. For no fewer than 20 times I have helped people to join with each other but this will be my first time helping them to avoid each other. This sense of contrived poignancy hurts my head often. And Sophia, my fellow nomad, will be passing by as well. I am particularly intrigued by the possible visit of Hannah - afterall we have only briefly exchanged a few words in Kyoto. Of course, as the cliche goes, 'in the age of internet....' yet still, how often does that happen anyway?

For no apparent reason whatsoever I have been craving for Chris Marker's Sans Soleil lately. Checked on Amazon and lo and behold, there it is. A compilation of Le Jetee and Sans Soleil - a perfect antidote to my curious ailment. But the antidote comes in expensive - $60.30, or the equivalent of 4 decent meals at a restaurant. Unfortunately the calculation does not go that way, not quite. Those 4 meals mean a whole life to me, particularly in the times of apocalypse when everything is slipping through my hands like a full handful of sand.

Speaking of sand, I wonder if I could somehow organize a beach barbeque with a few friends of mine. Too bad I am in this hell profession, in which no one, not even one, has time to prepare a decent piece of steak for barbeque. Well, does anyone still do that? it is such an 80s thing. I recall Uncle Pat's greasy right hand holding a chicken wing and his greasy left hand holding a barbeque skewer. Everything was then wrapped in a black and white silk polo shirt, a pair of grey suit pants, a pair of cheap Spanish leather shoes (with a tiny copper plate stitched on the right side, and a pair of rubber soles that looks very much misplaced), a fake Rolex and tied together by a goldlion leather belt. Speaking of contrived poignancy one must not leave out the vivid memories of the 80s.

parametric design.

it's totally magical - i'm not referring to its generative power here but how pyschologically captivating it could be. I worked from 8 to 9 last night (somehow this doesn't make sense) just to make one model and god, I swear, I didn't leave my seat more than 8 times, each time less than 30 seconds. (apart from, of course, a regular interval of '5-minute-breaks') That's miraculous, particularly for an ADD like myself. All I had to do is to finish a dumb model and watch it generative different forms on its own.

The anti-climax was, of course, the 9:09 email from Mark saying that the mid-term is postponed, after an all-nighter. I still cannot figure out whether I should feel stupid or not.

And of course, prior to that I also worked on my fabrication project. Yet another dumb project but quite informative still - at least for the first time I started on a 3D model and fabricate it on a laser cutter. Kind of a late start but a good one nonetheless, I guess.

moneo

I. Critique of Moneo’s account: What exactly is the difference between before and after, anyway?

A. Given the dramatic theoretical shift that Moneo claims to have occurred, one would expect a no less dramatic revision of architectural forms from Rossi. Nonetheless, while we do recognize some startling changes in Rossi’s designs in terms of materiality and the use of ‘iconography’ (both seem to manifest his reference to personal history and memories), he did not detach himself from the use of elemental forms (as one could see from the plans and sections of his buildings). It seems, therefore, that Rossi’s ‘pre-America’ designs did not differ from his ‘post-America’ ones as much as Moneo attempts to show in his account. We would like to show the following projects in order to substantiate our argument:

1. The San Vincenzo Project (1986) vs. the Gallaratese quarter (1969)
2. Teatro del Mondo (1979) vs. De Amicis School, Broni (1970)
3. Cemetry of San Cataldo, Modena (completed in 1984) vs. Memorial of Resistance, Cuneo (1962)

In fact, even Moneo alludes that “[Rossi] couldn’t go beyond repeating the images coined by the architects of the Enlightenment”. Rossi himself, not coincidentally, acknowledged his ‘compulsion to repeat’ in the Scientific Autobiography.

B. If Rossi did find, as Moneo notes, that “the Lukacsian reality that he had pursued so anxiously [in the 60s] was now unacceptable”, why didn’t he radically renounce the use of elemental forms in architecture all together, in lieu of accepting his own “compulsion [architectural forms]” even after his trip to America? While we agree that a shift in theoretical position did take place after Rossi’s American trip, we find Moneo’s account for Rossi’s departure from the ‘Lukacsian reality’ and typicality exaggerated. We attempt, with reference to Lobsinger’s account and Rossi’s Scientific Autobiography, to argue the following:

1. He did not renounce his rationalist position in Autobiography. Quite the contrary, Autobiography surveys and recognizes the ‘inexplicable’ – at times translated into ‘cultural sentiments’ by Moneo – without relinquishing his rational ground.
2. A Scientific Autobiography illustrates, with a sense of subtle and yet not entirely indiscernible reluctance, Rossi’s recognition of the inherent conflict of his ‘scientific’ approach against “historical obstacles [in relation to ‘culture’ and ‘context’ that he attempted to break away from] that hinder every reconstruction”.
3. In that sense, one may postulate, as Lobsinger does, that Rossi’s repetition is, apart from being a gesture of his adamant and consistent opposition against the modernists’ “perpetual desire for formal innovations”, his attempt to reconcile the two ideologically opposing aims of his architecture.

C. Lobsinger’s psychological account for Rossi’s Autobiography, albeit a compelling argument in itself, tends to be an interpretive postulation. Vincent Scully, on the other hand, provides us a more comprehensive (as much as it is lyrical) reading of Rossi’s Autobiography in relation to his ‘pre-America’ works. Instead of arguing that Rossi reluctantly held onto his scientific analysis, Scully approached the paradox in quite an opposite way; he boldly asserts, at the beginning of his postscript for Rossi’s Autobiography, that “… the adjective ‘scientific’ which Rossi employs takes on an ironic tinge… Rossi did not begin with this vision; no one does”. Through his poetic ‘saga’ through the following works of Rossi’s Scully argues that the notion of personal memories, in relation to history and locality, has always been present in his design (the cemetery of Modena, and the Gallaratese quarter).

Indeed, the notion of memories never escaped Rossi as “a distillation… his observed things are indeed idealized by it, ‘Platonized’ into enduring shapes” – an explanation that quite convincingly answers our question for Moneo.

re-orietation

Spent a few hours last night trying to pull my concentration statement together. Well, surprisingly after finishing the statement I found myself less inundated by computation, real estate, fabrication etc. Feels good to re-orient myself once in a while.

City and Identity: Social role of Architecture in Post-1997 Hong Kong

After bearing the name HKSARPRC for 8 years, Hong Kong’s socio-political landscape has become every bit as complicated as its acronym. The past 8 years of Hong Kong were highlighted by a long series of squabbles between the government and an emerging civil society – issues such as universal suffrage, the notoriously mishandled West Kowloon Cultural Zone* debacle etc. dominate headlines on a daily basis. The ever-aggravating antagonism between the government and the public seem to eddy around one single vortex – the emerging Hong Kong Identity.

Indeed, while economic assimilation between Mainland China and Hong Kong takes place at an unprecedented pace, it is clear that culturally Hong Kong is not turning into another Chinese metropolis. Over the years the public seem to have recognized local architecture as means of establishing the city’s identity.

But how? The problem seems to be related to various fields in architecture; from ultra high-density housing to public space, preservation of colonial architecture to re-thinking about development in the 21st century… in order to answer this question my concentration, as the first step of my endeavor, inexorably involves the study of city forms and theories in relation to housing, history and city/public space design. Investigation into these fields will allow me to construct a platform; a thesis, on which I can analyze the city’s pulse and dynamics.

some more scripting!

I spent three days trying to punch holes on sashimi but something just refused to work. Frustrated, I created this trellis, which coincidentally looks a lot like what SHoP Architects do in many of their buildings.

This reinforces my desire to work for them during summer-fervent architectural experience in a sweltering New York City. Sounds like a lot of fun. But before I dwell any further into fantasizing my summer experience in New York or London I must stay focused now - for I don't feel quite ready for school yet. This semester, as I could obviously see from my schedule, is going to be hell for me. Four non-kiddish courses plus a TA job is going to drive me to my own demise at the end of the semester.

That said, I am quite excited about everything, especially the TA job. I have been rehearsing in the shower for a couple of times about what I am going to say on our first meeting. In addition to explaining basic architectural studio schedule to them (e.g. what crits are, what they are supposed to do for desk crits, what I will be expecting from them etc.), I will set them on the right track to becoming good architects - not that I am successful enough to call myself one now but I do have a vision of how they ought to be. My methodology is quite simple; designing is an art of negotiating with limitations. Conversely, without limitations one is incapable of designing. Limitations (both technical and conceptual) establish criteria or reference points with which designers are enabled to decide what the essential elements are. Without limitations everything that crosses a designer's mind would clamour and strive for an equal share of importance in the design. The product may indeed reflect these ideas, but most likely lacks control.

Then of course, I would elaborate on the 'oh my' principle, which I think is quintessential to the poetics of architecture. Bill certainly captures the idea quite well, though I think using Susan Sarandon's movie as an explanation may be odd - in fact it caricatures this important idea to an extent that one may regard it as something of little importance. I am going to pick that up by explaining how a narrative could be used to stitch different aspects of architectural design together so that one could perceive different facets of that narrative as one experiences a building.

To illustrate this idea I will bring them to Saarinen's chapel on wednesday afternoon. I will ask them to take note of every single step that they make towards the building. As soon as the cross the road they would see a wall, behind which the famous cylindrical drum stands. The well-proportioned brick wall allows the cylindrical drum to seclude into more intimate corner in the lawn. This is the first statement that the building makes - I occupy a microcosmo. Then as one proceeds one circumnavigates the building, before officially entering the building through an opening on a 'bridge'. This progression, of course, is accentuated by the specially treated brick surface, on which kick bricks cast amazing shadows on the cylindrical wall. Then one make a turn towards left and there, the shimmering sculpture under the building's skylight invites one to the buildings bosom. The undulating walls delineate a microcosmo, a realm that belongs to wonders and magic. That being said, the building is not entirely disconnected from the outside world - windows behind the two brick layers allow light to infiltrate from the building onto the pond's serene surface at night.

then the idea of layers jump in, perception of entirety.... I am way too excited to write now.