Dorita Hannah
Event space : a performance model for spatial design
The stark divide between the mundane and the spectacle that can be found within this, is highlighted by Dorita hannah. The design of interiors in her lens is seen through the fluidity between the “ephemeral and eternal”, existing in a space where architecture is both relevant and superfluous. Framed through performance theorists Richard Sheshners research , Hannah’s work develops how even the unintentional can be viewed and perceived as performance. Hannah sites many theorists, particularly Henri Lefebvre who highlights how “space is socially produced” which she extends in stating that this in turn “produces social relationships.”
Designs ability to powerfully represent something is highlighted. In particular reflexivity – the dynamic and reciprocal relationship between person and place – informs us of performance design as social stimulator. “The complex dynamic of specific sites” particularly evokes my own experiences in varying sites and how fundamental they are in affecting mood. At mid afternoon, the house i once lived lost the sun. on returning from school, my home would be sunken in shade. I became tired earlier. The tiredness was in response to this absence of light, and poorly placed windows couldn’t have helped less. An awareness for the space was evoked. A fascinating article i once read discussed spaces ability to slow you down. “You catch yourself and realize you have slowed down just to be in that building…that’s the essence of slow architecture.”— ml Robles states. We not only adjust our way of life to be in a space, but a space adjusts to a company ever changing social cues. On a more political scale, the mass mediation of everything as explored in hannahs work proves timeless. Policy makers themselves are affected by space. Therefore architecture binds us and relies on us to push it forward in this co dependent relationship. This becomes a responsibility. Perhaps in attempts to capture the indirectly performative aspects of space, i can call on this….
Rebecca Solnit
The Encyclopedia of Trouble and Spaciousness
Two forms of materialism are highlighted in Rebecca Solnit’s work. A yearning for “invisible furniture” marks one form. The other is signalled by the comfort found in matter. Whilst elements of our homes may go unnoticed, everything possesses its own poetry and reason for being. Elements that constitute our homes sneak in everywhere. These objects transform the three dimensional rooms into a space one can call home. Objects manifest around us. We accumulate superfluous clutter. This in turn clutters the mind. Solnit captures how even though things are so accessible, we still yearn for more. This is a natural aspect yet should we stop to consider when enough is enough. On the contrary, Solnit finds the deep value found in collecting. The more indistinct appreciation of “the sparkling of dew as well as diamonds” underpins how although readily available, sometimes material things do bring joy.
Depriving oneself of materials exhausts the scenes. An interesting relationship is established between these two types of materialism. Both highlight how personal space can be. Excess objects clutter our spirits. Surround yourself with too little however and one can be left empty. How Solnit approaches this balancing act leaves room for personal interpretation. Space of course, is a personal thing. The differing forms of materialism are aided by Solnit’s definition of our homes that they are both “real estate speculation and sanctuary” precisely to the point, …………linking this to a fascinating concept. Lagom is not an interior “trend” more so a way to live in balance. Translated from swedish as “appropriately in balance”, or “just right”. It encourages the editing of a space. Determining a rooms necessities. “Let there be air around and on top of your furniture so the room can breathe” Interior designer Katerina Dima writes. Perhaps this speaks to me deeply as i am one to appreciate this struggle between materialism and minimalism. Being consciously aware of your surroundings is challenging. Things creep into your life. A spoon really does have something to say. In the context of your room, that something may be a whisper, but the dialogue between materials can be coerced in your favoured direction.
Jun’ichiro Tanizaki
The Japanese Toilet – in In praise of shadows
A poetic dichotomy is found at the heart of Tanizaki’s writing on japanese toilets. Tanizaki explains that “compared to westerners who regard the toilet as utterly unclean and avoid even the mention of it in polite conversation”, the japanese design ethos allows a much more respectable approach to the matter. Light is shed on this divide between the typically unsanitary and what tanisaki describes as a space of “spiritual repose”. Nature plays a pivotal role in japanese toilets. Elements of “finely grained wood… blue skies and green leaves” prove fundamental in establishing the poetic values behind japanese toilets. This value in both the seen, and unseen aspects of these toilets showcases them as a carefully considers space. In favor of cold white porcelain, instead Tanisaki prefers an aged blackened wood, where the subtle grain “acquires an inexplicable power to calm and soothe”
In an inner tokyo neighbourhood Yukiko Kuroda’s home comes to mind. Her home reflects both ancestral and cultural wisdom of this same poetic japanese architecture. Particular poignant is her concerns over her homes material construction choices. The shoji paper dividing walls are in her view “ too easily broken by an enemy, like a samurai rushing through your house.” Kuroda’s finds herself asking why her ancestors did not choose a stronger material. She lives mostly without electricity. Her home lacks basic modern appliances. Instead of air conditioning she simply “let the wind whistle through the house” harkening back to this deep respect for nature. “I made a choice to incorporate japanese traditions into this modern life” kuroda’s states. More than simply prescribing to some predetermined philosophies, Kuroda’s are a way of simply being. For her work, she mends broken pottery in a traditional japanese craft named Kintsugi. Here, a respect for an object’s history is acquired, its story is highlighted. It seems as though the japanese approach to design is upheld by this appreciation of the minute, poetic details, perhaps blind to most eyes. In designing my sleep/wake space for two strangers, this valuing of the poetic could prove interesting. Perhaps Rooting my design in traditional japanese ethos will imbue a sense of poignancy within the work. This could provoke a shared Connection between the strangers to nature, light and even a poetic dialogue.
Daniel Eaton 