York City Walls York Minster Treasurer’s House York Royal Theatre The Shambles York Castle Museum
I suppose if my time in York had to be summarised into two images, it might be these two – that of the city walls, and York’s winding and narrow (though this particular one isn’t fully narrow enough) alleyways. It’s perhaps most striking that a set of walls can be such a joy to use, both as a point of reference, and just a means to wander from.
Its interesting how most people spend a day or so in York, and my folks and I spent three there.
We had an immensely relaxing time in York, especially after a (overly – I admit) packed itinerary in both London and Paris (though this isn’t entirely by choice, it’s just because everything closes so early in York). And we were fortunate to be staying in an apartment-ish setting in York, so there was always somewhere comfortable to retreat to in the evenings.
I suppose the charms of being in a small-ish town is the ability to walk to anywhere – nothing was more than 20 minutes away from where we were, it was easy to get to know the city’s streets quite quickly (at least enough to get by).
I still don’t quite know what to make of York Minster; grand as it was, it still just felt like any other cathedral. Perhaps it was the rain that we experienced that day, or it was the other sights from the previous portions of our travels that left me feeling a little jaded. Still charming, in its own subtle way I suppose.
The rain does make for some lovely pictures though.
A trip to York wouldn’t be complete without a stop by the Shambles, but in spite of its intrinsic charm, something about crowds of tourists, jostling about with oversized brollies, does not quite make an enjoyable experience. Tea at Betty’s was also equally packed, though far more delightful.
It’s around seven weeks into school, and conversely, it’s been nearly seven weeks since the holidays were over. Perhaps I’ve had too much of a break then, perhaps I had really enjoyed being so care free, but being thrown back into the chaos of architecture school has been a significant struggle, to say the least. The last few weeks were especially difficult, with nearly every possible deadline being at that particular period – oh, how the celestial stars have aligned.
I’ve survived that madness. And present in front of me (and surely, very quickly, it too would slip away) is a brief respite. A week or so where the tempo slows, where studio ceases.
It’s time to breathe. And think through what had just past. And ruminate.
And finish that essay that’s due next week.
And that mapping assignment.
1. Parti model, inspired by the circulatory forces from around the site 2. Overall model, view from approach 3. Close-up of stairs 4. Tea-room at top of structure
A machined structure to appreciate the ebb and flow of the city, to sense the transitory nature of the mosaic of memories that flow between a city’s invisible grid-lines.
Certainly, a lot more went into the process than that which is seen here – there were even a few collages based on a reading of Sophronia in Invisible Cities as a means to inject added layers of complexity to the design. And of course, I do have some regrets about the final outcome: I didn’t have sufficient time to fully develop something that I wanted in the design: to have something that afforded a kaleidoscopic view of the city within the kiosk’s design. I had also failed to fully appreciate the parametric potentials of the 3d grid (the image above was the result of some severe twisting and turning of it during crit – it actually broke in the process).
But I’m generally happy with the final outcome. I still think there is some poetry in the created spaces, despite the potential for more.
No worries I guess. Architecture is a learning process. I suppose I’ll find some time this coming holidays to re-look at my past work and develop them. I guess.
Bangkok, January 2015. The end-of-year holidays seemed to pass by in such a blur. All I am left with are these photos, and good memories, and better friendships. Maybe that’s a worthwhile trade-off.
The warm glow of my table lamp mixes haphazardly with the singular strip of light behind me. It is a warm night. Tiger Striped Sky is playing in the background to accompany my thoughts and the words I am reading. “Without triggering vibrations in its place…” reads the text. I realise then, I have quite a lot of work to do.
It’s been about five weeks since my first critique, and barely two days since my second. Perhaps it is odd to measure my time in architecture school in such a manner, but those are important milestones to me – facing the critique panel can feel akin to judgement. Judgement on what one has been working on for the past few weeks. Judgement on one’s capacity to architect (to borrow Doug Patt’s transformation of that word into a verb).
Ten weeks is not much in the grand scheme of things, but it has felt like a long time. Yet, much of it passed in a seeming blur, and it’s hard to reconcile having churned out (yes, I do use that word deliberately, despite its somewhat less-than-optimal connotations) that particular amount with the time passed.
Crit. 1 – Closeup of axonometric of Singapore Conferernce Hall
Crit 2. – Zumthor-esque lightrays in a Meier-like composition that was based on Le Corbusier’s compositional rules
My first critique was not the most ideal situation to have been in. Perhaps everything seemed so foreign then (it’s one thing to know about the process of architecture school, it’s another to experience it first hand), perhaps it was bad time management, but I could not finish my work in time to present it. In place of properly inked (i.e. finished) drawings, quite a number of important drawings remained executed in pencil work – albeit rather detailed ones. It was not helped by my preference for 2H pencils at the drafting stage – those papers seemed essentially blank. All this in spite of the innumerable late nights spent prior to the critique. Another incident that happened is likely to make my first critique especially memorable – I nearly missed it; I overslept. Prior incidents foreshadowed this – the all-nighters really took their toll, but I never thought it would happen on crit. day. Three things spared me from actually missing my crit: it started late, my group-mates managed to get hold of the management at my residential college to knock on my door, and that I was one of the last few to present. I suppose that can be summarised into one thing though – the grace of God. Catching up on the unfinished work during recess week was equally overwhelming – the chance to rest and recuperate during that period was quite frankly sacrificed for work that was “sufficient”. I’m slightly bummed that I never managed to execute my Armenian Church drawings to the standard that I wanted it to be (ala Geoffrey Bawa), but yet I am pleased by the outcome of my drawings on the Singapore Conference Hall. On that note, I’ve managed to learn to appreciate the beauty in the original rendition of the Singapore Conference Hall through the process of studying and creating its technical drawings. The mid-century period was really a booming time for architecture globally.
In stark contrast to my first crit’s experience is that of my second. Everything actually went quite smoothly, despite having lost a little bit of time at the initial design stage to attending a church retreat (I do not regret it, at the very least it afforded me a chance to recharge a little). That’s not to say that the end product was perfect – far from it. In the words of one of the crit. tutors, it was “too planal, too transparent”. But there is very little regret over the final outcome, and thankfully relatively few all-nighters involved in this particular project (that’s just for me though).
Crit. 2 – Final model
The visual/compositional rules that I had read about on Le Corbusier’s work: Modulor and the golden ratio, a sense of tension between elements and a rotational/pinwheel dynamic – these were thankfully relatively easy to apply. I’m quite certain that I have had enough of the golden ratio for some time to come though. I really wanted to suggest the idea of solidity to porosity through my final design, but I know I didn’t fully succeed. And certainly, there could have been more spatial qualities included, ones that play more dramatically with light (both to emphasise my idea, as well as to pay homage to the initial refrence point – Sainte Marie de La Tourette), but I think I put out a valiant attempt. Maybe I could have been bolder. It is likely to seem a bit too simple and elementary in the eyes of those more exposed to architecture, and I am quite sure that I will feel this way soon, but I am at this point quite pleased with it – it is after all my first “proper” architectural model. I’m quite glad that my presentation went decently, that my final work had a decent degree of polish to it, and that it did not seem to too directly draw from Le Corbusier’s work.
I don’t know how things would pan out in the next exercise, and consequently, the next critique, but I hope it follows the trajectory of the 2nd critique, and not the first. But then again, who knows what the future holds? And arguably, failure makes for better education than success. Hmm.
8.30pm, 25 August 2014 – That’s the earliest I’ve left studio in the past two weeks – quite a shocker considering how school has just started within the same time frame.
Ever since school started proper on the 11th of August, I’ve been meaning to reflect a little on the start of my architectural education, but frankly, time has been rather tight (albeit that was not entirely unexpected). It’s been entirely sobering, to say the least.
Few other faculties can testify to giving out assignments on the first day of school, even fewer can say that their students begin staying overnight in school rooms to complete them. I suppose Architecture has that (dubious) honour.
That very first assignment involved drawing very many parallel lines, many of which lie barely a hair’s width apart. Perhaps that’s a hyperbole. 0.7mm apart is more accurate. On A1. And one of which is executed free-hand. It’s safe to say that the first assignment proved rather vexing for very many people. Perhaps more significantly, I’ve been introduced head-on to one of the most pivotal points to take away from an architectural education – know when to stop. Mistakes are seemingly endless, but there lie more important (pedagogically-speaking especially) things ahead that must be cared for. I can’t say that I have been especially successful at applying that, but perhaps I’m just marginally better at it than some others. I don’t know why, but the pencil free-hand line exercise felt deeply like an exercise in a wabi-sabi approach to things. The pencil lines, the graphite scratching on that cream paper, the grainy outcome. Each wavy line seems to capture the quivers of my soul.
Maybe that’s a little too metaphorical. It definitely captured my cold – my hands certainly quivered with every sneeze.
I can’t say that every exercise has felt interesting. More often than not, there was an element of banality to it, complemented by the weariness of both body and mind (of both self and those around). Perhaps these both are the cause for the silliness that happens in studio – thank God for that dose of entertainment.
Yet other exercises proved to be intellectually invigorating. In trying to incorporate the idea of dichotomy, of natural forces, of lack and loss, of even Plato’s theory of Forms into mere lines…
musings 