excerpt

the excerpt below reveals, i suppose, the mode of thinking of me as an architecture student. in which, if you read between the lines, isn't far different from how i approach everything else. i've never seen it as an academic exercise. it is more of a personal thing, a passion that stems from the passion for life itself. as opposed to being consumed with whatever you're doing, be it 'architecture', 'thermodynamics', 'photography' etc. i've edited it heavily, so that it is more close to how i intend it to be presented, as opposed to just accomodating to the assessment criterias. but hey, sometimes you just have to strive for the best possible marks. hahah.


hm. i realise that maybe being a student makes you unecessarily cynical. because you're just forced to see everything through a critical eye. being indifferent is often misunderstood with havng nothing to say. i'd love to say "fuck off, i don't have an opinion on everything!" but anyway one opinion i currently have is that IT IS TOO COLD!! Is it really November?!

i need a(nother) coffee.

the utopia that never was

"Architecture or Revolution. Revolution can be avoided." (Le Corbusier)


The proclamation of Modernism in architecture was underscored by a strong ideological stance. Perhaps this is where Modernism became out of touch with the realities of capitalist economy. This highlights the crux of one of the main criticisms on Modernism by Manfredo Tafuri in Architecture and Utopia. For Tafuri, modern architecture was an instrument of the capitalist reorganization of the world economy, "a participant in the overall plan", and was responsible in assimilating the tension between chaos and order so apparent in modern civilization. But he pointed out that architecture could no longer offer this 'salvation' anymore, and that the architect's role as ideologists and professionals are also no longer relevant. So what of architecture then? Tafuri proposes that the architect strips off his avant-gardism, and instead takes on specified roles as a 'technician', 'organizer' and 'planner'. While it is certainly fair to assume that architects should be more in touch with the new world order, one has wonder what repercussions would entail if this model was implemented? Reducing architects into production-line workers would in effect strip off any critical sensibility left of them. For Tafuri to assume that architecture failed on its sensibilities presumes all architecture to embody some sort of ideological significance. This is clearly not true. What would remain is something that merely aims for functionalism and efficiency, and even so only in its strictest sense that favours the economy.


Architecture thus lands itself in a dilemma. It operates in the realm of both capitalism and soceity's needs, and hence is consequently carried deeper into the myth of functionalism. Most misconceptions on modern architecture lies here: that it is a formal exercise of practicality, efficiency and mass production. However, there is no common consesus as to what constitutes the 'functional'. It is precisely this uncertainty that renders functionalism as something intangible and therefore open to exploitation. Perhaps functionalism veiled itself to embody modernity, but really in fact represented a vision of extreme rationality: the idealized reality we sought for, the utopia that never was.




"Functionalism suggests a false idea, as architecture since the Classical period had always endeavoured to express some idea of function" (Jurgen Habermas)





.

tempo

it was too quiet, and in the moment he hears everything; those metal discs gliding through the tracks, fading in and out; the collective crackling noises that the blinds, windows and the apartment's steel structure make as they moved to the rhythm of the wind. together they form a tempo that accompanies him through the night.

and then the door swung open, the light switch flicked, and the shower head starts running. moments later, the scene rewinds: the running water now dripping, the light switch flicked again and the door swung shut. silence seeped in again.

all this while his eyes were transfixed. but he wasn't looking at anything in particular. it was still, with an almost photographic quality. he waits for something (visual) to happen. but even in dead stillness it was all too tangible.

nobody knows

daremo shiranai. the only movie that i have ever cried to.




la dolce vita. bellissimo.

enlighten.me

am i wrong to assume that. deep. down. everyone is, to some extent, unhappy? because really, i do not see it. for all the self-inflicted and pointless dramas i've seen people put themselves through, they seem okay. as if they are not actually not-happy. perhaps it is simply an act of veiling that gives them a little more vagueness to their otherwise predictable nature

maybe i am just naive ... i should trust people a bit more

or maybe it's just one of those days when the mind takes you on a leap. a bottomless leap that reaps no relief. while i tell myself every day that i am okay, that i am blessed, that these feelings are not unusual and that every normal person feels them ... and as much as i try to console myself, ridding myself of all the negativity and trying to piece it all together again.

it does not work.


indifferent. numb. easy to please but. almost. never. happy.

anthropo

" Don't be like me.

Salvation doesn't lie within four walls.

I'm too serious to be a dilettante and too much a dabbler to be a professional. "



and so i've been thinking about space

or perhaps more precisely, the question of the physicality and/or reality of 'space'. is it real, or merely abstract? as a vacuum of nothingness: to say that space is abstract would not be entirely wrong. however that does not complete the picture.




















we relate to space by exerting our existence onto it. this exertion enables us to define an abstract idea as we apply ourselves in a 'bigger' context. SPACE may be an empty thing, but without 'us' it would not be (measurable). if i were to use a reverse logic to this, then the concept of space is one that reinforces our existence

and so i've been thinking about walls

to define = to limit. and so we place boundaries; to make sense of this infinite realm. what better way to understand the relative than to measure ourselves against it?

WALLS are interesting things. on their own, they are just scale-less objects (in space). i don't want to oversimplify, but an analogy would be (for instance) of vastness or spaciousness, which is experienced with a certain level of enclosure and a sense of scale. walls, be them physical or emotional, articulates; the boundaries that help us put things in perspectives; the boundaries that keep things away; defines an interior and exterior; and defines direction.

all walls are man made / self-inflicted.


however, what defines us can also be what traps us. on the other hand, to just let float over an infinite sea of nothingness doesn't sound like a good idea either...

the flock listens

many choose to stay in their little bubble
this safe, comfortable haven
where it's all black, or it's all white

beyond the window of the soul
lies a vulnerable spot
that is so susceptible

it's amusing how
even the most intelligent people
slowly, unknowingly,
falls...

immersed in this emotional orgasm
it's easy to feed the real agendas

now let us wait for the impending tragedy.



sometimes the purest people are the most superficial ones.

/// ok, perhaps i shouldn't post this ///

the past week

just some stuff i shot in carlton, on the way to the city. very victorian.



usually the screens are shut, so they appear from the street vertical striations of timber panels. but once in a while, they open up.

beautiful.

and on the sides of the building are these plastic tubes. once i was walking by, i can see water condensing and flwing through the tubes, and into a glass gutter.

sigh.


ok. i shall stop.