#architectural journalism

[calvinpo]

For the Architectural Review

Bass Coast Farmhouse in Victoria, Australia by John Wardle Architects

Calvin Po

For the architectural profession, building on the unceded lands of Indigenous people is a conflicting proposition, yet one that is almost inevitable for architects in Australia. Bass Coast Farmhouse, by John Wardle Architects, is one such project, built on former farmland among coastal heath reserves off the Bass Strait in Victoria. As they do with all their projects, the architects acknowledge the Traditional Owners, in this case the Boonwurrung people of the Kulin Nation.

Between the role of the architect, duty to their client, and wider questions of postcolonial ethics, these tensions permeate the house’s character and its distinctive relationship to the land. The Kulin Nation’s Tanderrum ceremony extends to outsiders a welcome to Country conditional on honouring the land and its intertwined relationships with its people: ‘The land ... is our mother. These cliffs are like our cathedrals, this is our church.’ On this sacral land, the architect’s exploration of ‘the nature of building on terra firma’ is not just an architectural fantasy, but a reflection of this quandary, and rejection of colonial myths of terra nullius – the land is not a blank slate.

From ecological footprint to the architectonics, this sensitivity is omnipresent. The house is entirely off-grid and the construction is largely prefabricated to minimise onsite waste and disturbance. The house sits gingerly on the ridge of a dune, making only the necessary contact with the ground. It is then cantilevered as the dune falls beneath the house. The cantilever, with its barn-like void and its suspended walkway, evokes an archaeological shelter, spanning over and shielding artefacts, and framing them for display. To enter the house, a set of stairs descends from this walkway as if down into geological strata of times past.

As for what is being sheltered – the dune and a scattering of stones – they too become imbued with new significance. After centuries of European colonisation, few traces of Boonwurrung heritage remain. It is the land itself, and the Boonwurrung people’s intergenerational custodianship of it, which is left to be protected. A critical part of the project is repairing parts of the site degraded by modern agricultural extraction, with a specialist advising on a massive replanting project for carefully restoring indigenous grass, shrub, and tree species. In contrast with the landscape, the house’s timber cladding (already silvering in the antipodean sun) and the corrugated galvanised steel roof seem to acknowledge its fleeting presence, relative to the long histories of the Kulin Nation.

The house is the antithesis of being ‘monarch of all [it] surveys’, to quote William Cowper’s poem on Alexander Selkirk, the British castaway in the Pacific. The Anglocentric ideals of Capability Brown’s Picturesque landscapes, where the earth itself is reshaped for the pleasure of the house’s gaze, are rejected. All the outward-facing windows, including the living room’s picture window, can be shuttered at a moment’s notice. For a house surrounded by expanses of nature and the coast, it is surprisingly introspective, with its primary aspect oriented around the central courtyard. The house is also extensive for a single-storey family home, with beds and bunks in polished, timber-panelled rooms, accommodating over a dozen people. But rather than bearing down on the terrain or asserting its panoramic dominion, the house seems to recognise that the views and the land are on loan, not owned.

John Wardle Architects, with its recently inaugurated Reconciliation Action Plan, joins others in Australia in re-evaluating their relationship with First Nations. But in the end, the impact a private house can have on reconciliation is limited. As Carolyn Briggs, a senior Boonwurrung elder, once reflected, ‘I’m always trying to find markers that inform me that we still have a part in this place. ... I think it would be amazing if you can start to read the land and wonder about the history of the people who lived and died before we were here. Hopefully one day you’ll know it. But we can’t see that now in the built environment.’

Link to original article here.

[pygmypouter]

This place is a message... and part of a system of messages... pay attention to it!

[miamaimania]

Unveiling the Next Chapter: A Symphony of Contemporary Art and Architecture in New Yonder Journal

[unfurl-th]

november mood 🕯️🦢

[coloursteelsexappeal]

The Atlantis by Arquitectonica

Miami, Florida; 1979

[alienssstufff]

Character study: Usagi’s (dream) House

A (mostly) rustic kitchen that despite his sci-fi look, dreams of living a life of anything but that. But as someone who’s never actually been to a house like that his perception is never perfect. There are always things like commercial exit signs, minimalist chairs that never reach optimal counter height and irregular island benches that tarnish the perfect image.

Ghost!Usagi doesn’t eat. His digestive system was ripped out of him and he’s missing 40% of his body parts. But he loves to cook so there’s always food on the table.

[door]

more queer houses!

Klovharu Summer Cottage by Raili Pietilä for Tove Jansson and Tuulikki Pietilä

1964-1965, Klovharu Island, Porvoo Archipelago, Finland

Tove Jansson and Tuulikki Pietilä spent every summer in this cottage for nearly 30 years. Tove chose the site by camping on various places on Klovharu, and they designed it with Tuulikki's sister-in-law, based on a fisherman's cabin on the island of Pellinge. It lacked electricity and running water, and if guests arrived, Tove and Tuulikki would give up the bed and camp outside. the cottage is a single room, with a cellar underneath--for food storage and a small sauna--built into the rock. the cottage is now an artist residency--with the original interiors preserved--but can be visited during one week in July. More about the cottage. Interview with Raili Pietilä. Tuulikki's films.

Hangover House by William Alexander Levy for Richard Haliburton

1937, Laguna Beach, California, USA

Hangover House, or Halliburton House, was designed by William Alexander Levy (he later dropped Levy from his name) for celebrity explorer Richard Halliburton and his ghostwriter and lover Paul Mooney. Supposedly, by the time the house was completed Halliburton and Mooney's relationship had expanded to include a third: Alexander himself. The house was built of concrete, with large public rooms and three small bedrooms, one for each of the men. Sadly, Halliburton and Mooney were lost at sea in 1939, and Halliburton's family sold the house and buried all references to his queerness. The house still stands today and is a private residence. More images here.

Azurest South by Amaza Lee Meredith 1938, Ettrick, Virginia, USA

Azurest South might be the first International Style home to have been built in Virginia, and instead of in a wealthy white enclave like you might expect, it's located just off of the campus of Virginia State University, an Historic Black College/University. it was built by pioneering artist, architect, and educator Amaza Lee Meredith for herself and her partner, Dr. Edna Meade Colson. colson was the head of the education department at VSU, and meredith was head of the art department (which she had created in 1930). we know from her scrapbooks that meredith was looking at european designs and experimenting with them in the house. the result was something unlike everything around it--flat roofs, glass bricks, bright paint and tilework inside--an antidote to traditionally conservative virginia architecture. azurest south today belongs to the vsu alumni association. it is not open to visit, but has received increased attention and grant funding over the past few years, so it may well be someday! More about Meredith as architect. More about Azurest South. And more! (additionally, if you're near richmond va there's an exhibition about meredith & azurest south at the institute for contemporary art until march 9 2025)

Six Acres by Mary Imrie and Jean Wallbridge 1954-1957, Edmonton, Alberta, Canada

Mary Imrie and Jean Wallbridge were partners in work and life, establishing the first all-female architectural firm in Canada. in the 50s, they built a house to serve as their home and office along the banks of the north saskatchewan river and called it "six acres" after the size of the lot. they traveled enthusiastically and widely (pdf) and were avid outdoorspeople. like a lot of women architects at this point in the 20th century, they were largely relegated to residential commissions, which they found frustrating. that said, they gained a reputation for helping clients who were struggling with construction costs by encouraging gatherings of friends and neighbors to assist with the work, something they had hands-on experience with, having assisted in the building of their own home. the house is still standing and is now the office of the alberta land stewardship centre. timeline of their lives and careers. more about the house itself.

Finella by Raymond McGrath for Mansfield Duval Forbes c. 1850, renovated 1929, Cambridge, England, UK

Mansfield Forbes was an english don at clare college, cambridge. in 1928 he leased a victorian home called "the yews" and spent the next year working with Raymond McGrath (previous seen here) to transform it into a modern fairyland, named in tribute of Finella, a 10th century Pictish queen. the interiors were a celebration of new materials--there were floors made of induroleum (wood and asbestos powder), walls painted with iridescent cellulose paint, something called copper plymax (??), and the entry hall had a vaulted ceiling covered in glass panels backed with silver leaf. forbes intended it to be a gathering place of sympathetic minds, to host salons in celebration of modern art and architecture in a setting a queer and future-looking as he himself was. unfortunately, he vastly overspent in outfitting Finella, and when he died suddenly in 1935, the contents of the house were auctioned off. Finella is still part of Cambridge and houses fellows of gonville & caius college. the college recently restored the hall, which can apparently be toured on specific days. interior photos from 1929 and 2004.

112 Charles Street by Eleanor Raymond 1868, renovated 1922, Boston, Massachusetts, USA

When Eleanor Raymond began work on 112 Charles Street, it had recently had the front 10 feet sliced off to allow for the widening of the street, so her renovation was essentially a reimagining. eleanor designed the house for her mother, who had her own apartment, as well as eleanor herself, her sister rachel, and her partner ethel powers. the three of them shared a floor. powers wrote for the magazine House Beautiful (and would go on to be its editor) and featured the home three times. in the largest feature on its interiors, she emphasized that since it was a home of three business women, it needed to be "self running." raymond would go on to design and build much more modernist houses, and the conservative appearance of this one might be due to how early in her career it was (she graduated from her architecture program in 1919), but i think it's more likely that she was aware of the necessity of appearing somewhat inconspicuous in her surroundings, as a queer woman with a career. read more about her work here. and here.

[blogalahezy]

[weightedplushie]

⚠️ BIVE STIMBOARD

1 2 3 • 4 5 6 • 7 8 9

[hristinasview]

Maybe I'm back, maybe not. .-.

[calvinpo]

An exhibition/pavilion review:

Ringing Hollow: A Review of Black Chapel, the 2022 Serpentine Pavilion

Calvin Po

It’s perhaps an unfortunate coincidence that on my way to this year’s Serpentine Pavilion, Black Chapel, designed by Chicago-based artist Theaster Gates, I had a rather more spiritual experience when I passed by a group of street preachers on the square next to Speaker's Corner. With their Union Jack bunting draped all around their assembly, placards with JESUS IS LORD, large banners of the English flag adorned a patriotic lion and names of the all the London boroughs proudly proclaiming LONDON SHALL BE SAVED. Puncturing through even my atheistic, bemused scepticism, the blaring music and odd bursts of song had a patriotic, messianic energy that was electric. By the time I got to the Chapel I came to see, it had simply been upstaged.

Pavilions have often mattered more for the reason they are built, than the actual functions they house. From completing the composition of a Picturesque landscape, to Mies van der Rohe’s Barcelona Pavilion itself becoming a manifesto, the purpose of pavilions often exists beyond the building itself. In the case of the Serpentine Pavilion, it is more about the annual cycle of patronage by the London cultural elite as they pat the “emerging architect” of the year on the back. So I was intrigued when Gates claimed a loftier, more sacred ambition of creating a ‘Chapel’, a “sanctuary for reflection, refuge and conviviality”, for “contemplation and convening”, on top of the usual purpose as a place to sit and buy an expensive coffee.

The pavilion’s imposing 10.7m high cylindrical form, clad in all-black timber has an immediate presence as I approach. Gates claims the form references inspirations as eclectic as “Musgum mud huts of Cameroon, the Kasubi Tombs of Kampala, Uganda [...] the sacred forms of Hungarian round churches and the ring shouts, voodoo circles and roda de capoeira witnessed in the sacred practices of the African diaspora.” Perhaps the subtlety of these references is lost on me, but the Pavilion mostly evokes an industrial structure, like a water tank or gasometer, especially with its external ridges of timber battens  and internal ribs of timber and metal composite trusses. Yet despite the grand gesture of an open oculus in the roof, letting light into the inky, voluminous interior, it fails to move me in that transcendental way that even a modest place of worship can. 

Is it perhaps the quality of the execution? Serpentine Pavilions are often put together on hasty timescales, with six months from conception to completion. Little details give this away: boards of the decking and cladding not quite lining up, the black-stained timber a bargain basement imitation of yakisugi (Japanese technique of timber charring). Perhaps this can be forgiven of a non-permanent structure: in a nod to sustainability credentials, this year the designers have taken care to ensure the structure is demountable, down to the reusable, precast concrete foundations. But seeing that the Pavilions are almost always auctioned off to recoup the costs and relocated to the grounds of private collectors and galleries, this seems more a convenient commercial expediency, than an environmental one. Perhaps it is difficult to be spiritually moved by a structure that is sold and delivered like a commodity, with little rootedness in its physical and congregational geographies. 

Or could it be the atmosphere, a lack of drama? One of Gate’s flourishes, such as his seven silvery ‘Tar Paintings’ that are suspended in the inside walls of the space like abstract icons, are a nod to his father’s trade as a roofer, and Rothko’s chapel in Houston. Yet these self-referential gestures seem lost on the throngs of sun-seeking Londoners taking brief shelter from the heat and wilted grass, with hardly anyone giving them a second glance. Most seemed more interested in the shade than symbolism. For a project that also emphasises “the sonic and the silent”, the acoustic atmosphere of the space I found wanting, perhaps because of the sound that leaks out of the two full-height openings that puncture straight through the volume: its acoustic experience had neither the reverberant, sanctified silence once expects from a chapel, nor the sonic presence that the street preachers managed to carve out of a busy corner of a London with just their vocal chords. Instead, all I heard was the low chatter of visitors going about their own business. The Pavilion is being programmed with “sonic interventions” (read: music performances), and the jury is out on whether or not the Pavilion can serve as a suitable venue for sounds with a more explicit, ceremonial intentionality.

But perhaps the coup de grâce was the decision to relocate a bell from St Laurence, a now-demolished Catholic Church from Chicago’s South Side. Sited next to the entrance, it is to be “used to call, signal and announce performances and activations at the Pavilion throughout the summer.” Gates explains this decision as a way to highlight the “erasure of spaces of convening and spiritual communion in urban communities.” But now mounted on a minimal, rusty steel frame like an objet d’art, I can’t help but feel a cruel irony that a consecrated object that once used to convene a lost community is now used as a performative affectation for the amusement of London’s arts and cultural gentry. This perhaps exemplifies a deeper ethical issue at the heart of the Pavilion’s concept: narratives of collective worship, cherry-picked from across communities and cultures, are sanitised, secularised and aestheticised in a contemporary art wrapper for the tastes of the largely godless culture crowd. The curator’s spiels of a creating “hallowed chamber”, if anything ring hollow.

As I leave Hyde Park, I pass by again the assembly of street preachers, who have now moved on to delivering a sermon. Gates said of his Pavilion, “it is intended to be humble.” Yet I can’t help but but feel how much more these preachers have achieved, with so much less.

[pinkblanc]

Bronchial tree cast, 1962

[laleaurelie]

springtime.

[horsemeatluvr23]

why is this full time gamer a better artist than me, a professional illustrator......

[sunbeamsinapinecone]

Nilgiris

[franciscolicari]

my travel journal. Europe, SEP-NOV'23

Firenze

Napoli

Roma

Pisa & Barcelona

Madrid

Madrid

Paris

Paris

London

Zaandam & Amsterdam