It's been a long time since I last posted anything on this blog. But this blog is not dead! I guess I really do only post when I feel the need, or urge, to really post anything.
It's a great fortune of mine that reflecting on my design experience is part of my required homework. So to is the visiting of sites, locations in Singapore I normally wouldn't go to, or at least to see things with a new eye...
Indeed, the choosing of architecture was the correct choice. I don't regret it at all. Although I'm still at the beginning and am merely a child in front of the great architects who have come before me, but I'm willing to walk down this path, and continue learning adn growing along the way. It may not be my final destination and I may end up switching paths somewhere, sometime in the future, but then again, who can determine the future? As long as I stay true to myself and carry on doing what I love, I believe that I'll get somewhere eventually.
I've also been quite influenced by the light novels I'm currently reading, which let me know a little more about Daoism (the "real" kind, not the kind that deals with praying to the gods) and Chinese culture. I'm not like the others and am strange in the sense that I want to embrace Eastern culture, go to China sometime in the future, and learn about the ways of design from Chinese architects and not the prevailing Western way of thought. I believe that that can be found through university modules, travelling, and studying, to at least a perfunctory level; and if I manage to fuse the two and apply it to tropical, tiny Singapore (the start, at least), then I will obtain my own unique way of designing and creating architecture.
This semester has been a dream in letting me experience the three scales of urban planning, architecture, and tectonics and construction. Each let me learn different aspects of design, and strengthened my design process and thinking. After all, the point of university and even working in different companies is to emerge with an improved design process; at least, that's what everyone says, although I believe that to be true as well. These past two days, I've been sitting around, reading my light novel and slacking quite a bit. But I also learnt about my own design process, and this excites me for Year Two, really. Although my way of thinking might change over the years of my life, I believe that Year One has been invaluable in first exposing me to architecture and art in Semester 1; and now in Sem 2, to emerge with a grasp on how to design... is this not the first step to being a true architect?
I'm quite influenced by Louis Kahn's quote: what does this building want to be? This man, who worked magic with brick; although in post-modern times, the dominant building material is reinforced concrete, and especially so in Singapore. I've gotten into the habit of asking myself, what does the architecture want to be? In the case of P1, the first assignment dealing with an urban scale, the question was: what does the neighbourhood want to be? I somehow assumed the lead design role in this project, and came up with most of the designs. What this meant is that it improved my thought process for the urban scale. I worked from the moment I woke till about 2am each night. It felt fantastic.
P1 was an exercise in fitting in the macroscopic needs and functions into a unique neighbourhood; in this case, Queenstown, south of the MRT station. While others chose to start with a blank slate (literally, 'tabula rasa'), I started by keeping the geography and thinking about the history of the site and the buildings.
To this end, landscape (another module) played an important role. I've always held it close to my heart. In primary school, I was a bookworm who preached plant species names to my friends as we walked. In secondary school (and on this blog), I lamented the loss of the big strangling fig, and the eventual building of what is now called Kovan Melody. In retrospect, landscape is the fundamental I base my designs on. It exists before what I create is constructed upon it. How can I not respect it? The tutors said, start from a tabula rasa and it'll be easier. To me, however, there is no such thing as a blank slate! Before the current designs stand, there was most probably another building on the same site; in Singapore's case, perhaps a graveyard. Before that, even a virgin patch of forest originally had that forest, with its full assemblage of flora and fauna living there, with streams flowing through, with the same wind blowing and rustling the leaves... How can this be called "nothing"? Even whilst building in a desert, you can never say that sand is only, simply sand. It was previously rock... and what may now be desert, could have been a forest, such as the Sahara.
I bought a small piece of square canvas and coasted it with some white acrylic paint. Then, I dabbed a huge swatch of black acrylic in the centre. Once that was dry, I started painting layers and layers of white acrylic over it, from top to bottom, from left to right. To the unassuming eye, it looks to be a simple piece of canvas painted in white. But a strong light shining from behind reveals some of the depth of thought put into the canvas. However, nobody, me included, can ever correctly deduce the order of strokes in which the paintbrush touched the canvas, or the number of layers I painted. But this simple piece of white canvas clearly shows that there is no such thing as a blank slate, indeed. This is what I feel, and painted in order to capture the zeitgeist, the spirit of the moment.
In P1, I sought to reinstate Queenstown's status as the first satellite town built almost entirely by the HDB (SIT, the Singapore Improvement Trust, started first, but HDB completed the job); to restore neighbourliness and walkability; to create an architecture that yielded to the lowly sloping hill it would be built upon while simultaneously offering a straight view to the bustling civic centre at the top; to bring back commerce and hence life round the clock and hence energy. The fact that my design was changed so completely at the end because of deadlines and project members opposing (too hard to build, too complicated) was somewhat sad, but nonetheless, the rewards reaped were immense.
P2 was a chance at being a client, an architect, and a "builder" who makes the model for another studio mate. Although there was no real site context, since my group made our own little streetscape with no geographical location to base it upon, I still designed by taking climatic factors and the presence of the other pieces of architecture into account. This time, the challenge faced was to integrate Japanese concepts into a tropical, urban setting. And as before, I found that the type of architecture I create is probably different from the rest. If I do design for loud and flashy clients in the future, then my architecture would be loud and flashy as well; but otherwise, that wouldn't be the case. My type of architecture is quiet, and recedes into the background. It is not loud; neither is it flamboyant. It is in harmony with the landscape while standing on its own. It draws people to it. Its concept reveals itself through the experience of physical interaction, and the more one interacts with it, the more they fall in love with it as the building slowly reveals aspects of itself that were not apparent on first glance. I don't aim to create showpieces. I aim to create a living organism, almost; to breathe life into the architecture, to let it embrace the people who dwell within it, and to let it grow up, grow old, perhaps be rebirthed anew with another identity, but always retaining a vestige, a palimpsest of its former self; and to eventually die and fade away into the ground but still live within people's hearts and minds as memories of experiences. I'll touch more on that later. Essentially, the brief for P2 (project 2) was to create a Japanese-styled spa (with additional things but mainly an onsen, a Japanese hot stone spring). I approached this by first taking into account the site and climatic factors; then using that and my research into the different functions and the essence of those functions to come up with a concept - in this case, to block off the exterior to allow a full, but gradual experience of the interior. As it is with the building, so it is with the user, who is almost imperceptibly guided onto a certain path to complete the ritual that is bathing in an onsen. More accurately, it is not a bath; it is a cleansing of the body and soul to re-root the client back in the environs, away from his everyday life, and to enjoy a little bit of time together with family or friends in a warm, intimate space. As it is, I'm not very religious, but I tend towards Zen buddhism and Daoism, more so than Christianity, to which I owe a debt of first starting to sing, which then led to six years' worth of choir and an accompanying sense of spirituality.
P3's brief was to create a little pavilion of at most 2.1x2.1x2.1m along the walkway in the School of Design and Environment, where the architecture majors reside. I resolved to only use plywood, and nothing else but plywood, including the joinery, taking a leaf from my studio master's book.
Again with methodology: there is first and foremost the brief, and the parameters set by the it, the architect and the authorities; then there is the climate and landscape and site context. Then the question arises again: what does the architecture want to be? For this experience pavilion, I first determined the direction I wanted to go in before selecting my precedent stud(ies). The design then comes about, influenced by the steps that come before it, and goes hand in hand with architectural construction. A change in scales - such as zooming in to the tectonics - influences the larger design... Only then does the form emerge. To me, with the consideration of these design factors, and the underlying conception of the building as a living thing that protects and nurtures the ones dwelling within it... the form, influenced by the concept, then naturally emerges.
It is a dream (at least, my dream) for all architects that their designs are realised in real life. Only then can they know if their preconceived notions were right; if people like it and feel what they are supposed to feel; and the magical, unforeseen experiences that could never have been predicted and only serve to add on to the overall charm of the architecture. Although my design wasn't selected and was put down by a particular studio master during crit, I firmly believe in it. It is an architecture of experience and not form, and only unleashes its power when built; but that is not to say that it looks bad as well. It merely looks plain, but to me at least, it exudes a charm that pulls people to go closer and enter.
For me, the most charming aspect of the site would be the tree canopy above, especially when the moon is at its brightest (about now). From any other point of view, the ground is ugly and has been trodden bare during the construction phase; any horizontal view meets with a building or lamppost glare (or Macdonald's glare) during the night. I sought the prone, lying-down position as the main driving factor. To me, it reminds me of lying down and seeing the stars through the canopy in my old home; of simply experiencing and not thinking, of a harmony with nature that was always there but never sought out by the people who always walked past this patch of grass. I sought to deliver that sort of magical experience. And while architects are notorious for being their harshest critics, I think that having a firm belief in what you create matters as well. And I do believe in my own designs.
These three projects of different scales furthered my process of design.
Firstly, the architect works on three scales: the urban scale; the architectural scale; and the details (tectonics). He changes perspective to allow one to inform the other and further the overall design intent based on the concept. (And I would like to be fortunate enough to one day work on each scale freely with the status of a designer and all that it encompasses: craftsman and industrial designer; architect; landscape architect; urban planner; in short, a specialist in construction and the built environement.)
The principles of design on any level funamentally boil down to a dichotomy. It is always about opposition, or contrast; the other, complementary but yet different.
The self is one, a single individual experiencing what is designed, alone. An individual may be among others who collectively experience something together, but his experience and interpretation are unique and belong to him and him alone. Design has to first and foremost take into consideration the needs, emotions, and experiences of the individual, before expanding to others. Architecture is about the interaction of human with something manmade and yet at the same time, completely natural, born of the earth, but placed in particular ways that form something new.
What is design to me? It is the making of an experience with an intent, expressed through its form, its function. The concept relates to its surroundings, draws on the intangibles of history, culture, language, and is comprehended by the individual on a subconscious level. It is simply understood without any need for explanation.
What is architecture? It is function that is supplemented by design intention - by a concept - to influence. It is purposeful. It is a harmony, an intermediary between man and nature, because it is designed by man, using materials from nature. It is sublime.
The architect first designs by considering the landscape, then the architecture, then the tectonics of the architecture, all tied together by a fundamental concept, or design intent. The architect cuts his teeth by understanding the beauty in the craft of detail, the spatial quality of the architecture he creates, and the way it relates to the larger milieu.
What is the role of the architect? Everything is connected in this world. When people meet each other, relationships form and exist as memories. When a person meets nature, nature may influence man, or man may influence nature. When a piece of architecture is built, memories are influenced, because the landscape changes; the ground itself is affected, because the building is rooted with piles and takes the place of whatever existed there before it did. Lives grow up, work in the architecture, experience what it has to offer, fall in love with the building and the landscape which contains it. The architect possesses a power to change the environment. The architect is responsible for deciding what memories to keep in physical form and what to sever; what to create. Sometimes, architecture already has a function, for the user is known and the meaning is specified. At other times, the architect has to imagine the future: the children running through the place; the place where a couple is married; the cafe where work and relaxation is carried out. This envisioning of the future is carried out and brought to life, and a newborn piece of architecture, like a baby, carefully handed over to the people, who grow up with and give the architecture its meaning, in the form of the memories they hold, and the physical marks left in the building. The architect's role is to shape the lives of other people by influencing them with the architecture he creates.
For Singapore, these memories have largely been physically wiped away through the constant rebuilding and redevelopment that is encouraged. The younger generation is left incapacitated and without heritage, while those who are older are largely nostalgic for the world that existed before. The memories remain as part of the culture, but slowly and surely fade away. I hope to become someone who preserves the physical heritage of my nation and while reinventing and redefining architecture, simultaneously works to give older buildings a second, and even third lease of life. I hope to one day spread my way of thinking to students and other architects around the world. That is my credo.
