taking an element of nature as inspiration
interpretting it into an abstracted drawing
Until it is almost unrecognisable and unearthly
it becomes a foreign entity. Scale transforms a seed pod into a space bunker
Trapped, drifting ambiguously between Nebulas 451XFG and 17QJ9 for three thousand years. A gaseous world, yet frozen solid in both temperature and time. A traveller is sucked into a void; cold, lost and scared. An Asylum ... --- ... stop. meteoroids. A pulchritudinous cascade of rock, iron and ice fractures the surface. The hybrid replies with a shield; an epidermis of millions of hexagonal shaped cells, breathing and transforming simultaneously .--. .-. --- - . -.-. - .. --- -.stop. Its dormancy is broken. Copper aluminium phosphate emanates from each perforation, blanketing the entity in a fine, glacier blue plume. Trembling, splitting and morphing to the occupant's desires .-. . ..-. ..- --. . stop. cold vacant spaces extrude from its hearth. Corridors yield warmth and harbour feelings of hope --. ..- .. -.. .- -. -.-. .stop. But only when all five suns align shall shadow dissipate and a universal beacon emerge. it shall become visible from 34.0231° N, 84.3617° W, but only to those who require it...
A beacon for the lost space traveller.
its form continually changes
Until it returns back to Earth
7 HOUSES
Based on Steven Holl’s Seven Houses on a Bridge, each house surpasses any preconceived notions of domesticity and instead becomes a refuge for its inhabitants; a place where the form and spatial dynamics both reflect and interact with each facet of its occupant’s day-to-day life.
THE NANO AGE Matter and Memory; a homogenous relationship between physical substance and the cognitive processes of the mind. This house serves as a catalyst to the unvailing of a multitude of technological advancements. Its resident, a specialist in materials research and development, Professor Raymond D. Webb is a 46 year old nanotechnologist currently working for the Australian Army in correspndence with the military stealth operations team. He likes muffins. His house is a cruciform, a symbolic intersection of oblique tapered passageways and a vehicle for accessing the four consciousnesses of the mind - four small internal courtyards representative of the conscious, unconscious, matter and memory.
8am. Rush hour. Masses of train commuters swarm the northern abutment. A friendly man, he slides the door open in hope that just one person will one day stop to explore his space and show interest in his work. They never do. They only walk in one direction, the same direction, maintaining their same routines, disregarding and never stopping to explore the lateral corridors of the cruciform. 11am. He begins work in the neocortex. The lab; a conscious space. A space where analytical thoughts, logical (illogical) decisions and a constant state of awareness prevail. He succumbs to his obsession with science. Investigations into chemical matter, reports, and research into the experimentation of carbon nanotubes take hold.
Microscopes are setback exactly 250mm from the edge of the brushed aluminium work bench at all times as an extremely intelligent radar detection specialist begins manipulating fabrics and surface coatings to be used on military vehicles and personell. This entire space is enclosed in a skin of 2mm thin photoreactive glazing, which absorbs infrared light, reflects heat and generates most of the homes electricity. The interior walls contain solid aluminium particles and are coated in glossy cyclamen coloured paint. The paint is infused with iron oxide and evaporated aluminium, and sees the space become almost invisible by radar detection.
He works until he succeeds. Failure is non-existent. With his success comes scientific discoveries. Discoveries lead to new mateirals, and with new materials comes samples. These samples are housed in the frontal lobe, an exhibition room devoted purely to physical matter. It is a direct correlation to the conscious mindset and a room where its only concern is the chemical formulas, structures and relationships that compose each item. Each 2mm glazed shelf suspends from the ceiling via 2mm steel rods and meticulously displays the materials in chronological order of discovery. The result is a seemingly invisible gallery, whereby the objects appear to float in space and only appear visible from the reflection off the external skin. Each day he takes a break between 2-3pm to gather resources that will help him in his work.
Adjacent to the exhibition room is a library and storage room, a temporal lobe; a room devoted to Memory, perhaps one of the most crucial components of the human consciousnesses. It is separated into three phases: encoding; the receiving, processing and combining of information. Storage; creation of a permanent record of encoded information. Retrieval; the recollection of stored information in response to a cue, process or activity. Each of these phases is represented through shelving joinery and Webb's detailed cataloguing and filing system, thereby storing a vast number of books, electronic journals and research papers. Finding exactly what he needs is never an issue as organisation is almost compulsive.
The unconscious can only express itself through symptom. Thoughts that cannot be directly accessed begin to be tapped into as the continuous atmospheric changes of the cruciform uncontrollably stimulate his mind and begin to evoke repressed memories and sensations. Colour bears happiness. Light is hypnotic. He invites his neighbour, his only companion, to come share in his experiences. She brings muffins -banana and cinnamon- his favourite. He and Verity walk around the cruciform, admiring the light reflected off each glossy coloured surface and the green-pigmented concrete of the solid geometric forms. It is an escape for Webb, a contemplative junction for both the conscious and unconscious, for matter and memory.
He stands, gazing through one of the perforations in the wall pondering the future, while Verity describes her day. He turns and asks her... "if I can make a chair supported by legs no wider than the diameter of a needle, will you still sit on it?"
