A bit of a delay

Hello,

Thank you all for looking into the site.

I have returned from Poland and am now in Winnipeg

trying to make sense of it all and what happened.

There is lots of work since the last few posts...

so I hope to update the blog soon when final presentations are

over and I present the actual thesis proposal.

thanks again,

cheers

Aleksandra

Inside the Mutating Body

Everyday that I spend inside this place, is another day of discovery.

Old pages of german books found in the ashes of one of the old stoves,

A notebook from 1955 used by my great uncle for school.

Papers on the protocol minority groups must follow after displacement

in Poland following WWII. Money and jewelry under floor boards, hidden in the sand.

From the few rooms that I've removed floor boards and plaster covered walls,

more portals were found within rooms. Marking continuous events in additions to the house.

In total, I think there were 4 major additions to the house alone.

... it is like this everyday, a continuous build up of something distinct

yet inexplicable in words.

This intense condition that exists inside the house and makes a

human feel like the lives that once occupied this house are tearing through

the walls and trying to unfurl their story.

... and it arrives deep inside your skin, as if gnawing it's way into you.

As much as I wanted to arrive at the intended form of a wall that provided

the gesture of mutation but also function... I found myself lusting

over the process of removal of the skin (pantyhose) and leaving

this portion of the body in a state of partial removal.

Being able to freeze this moment of removal was watching this

crazy internal struggle that I feel not only exists in this house but

also a social condition of the people in the region...

and it keeps me returning to the history of displacement.

In between the supple curves of the casted body and the tearing away of the skin

was an immense territory, a territory that was awaiting to be discovered...

a habitual condition of a physical region struggling to arrive

at it's proper formation yet professing a deep internal

struggle rooted in something other.

Formation of Mutations

The architecture is beginning to experience a process of mutagenesis

(development of mutation),

in its state of atrophy

(a wasting away of the body or of an organ or part,

as from defective nutrition or damage).

The evolution is not death alone, but a state of renewal.

Actions that involve the transanimation

(conveyance of a soul from one body to another)

of the body into some other adaptable form in it's surrounding habitat.

Easily manipulated to the individuals needs, the sand

with the help of water and delicate patience can

provide adaptations to the spatial conditions of the

room.

The process shown below was quite... exciting.

This was the first trial with manipulating sand

without any intermediary between sand and plaster

(to remove the sand, one can use a pressure washer,

similar to the technique used when getting the pebble affect in concrete, this will leave the surface rather rough).

The process left me feeling I was excavating in some kind of archeological site

and uncovering hidden treasures of a secret past.

It was odd, because I knew what form I had placed in the sand,

but it's turn out was more detailed and unexpected in

its relative ease.

Right now, I am in search of a medium to be placed in between sand and plaster mold.

The sand adds a nice rough affect to the castings but the sand being used from the house is rather dirty mixed with lots of grains, beetles and glass.

It would be nice to find a fabric with exceptional elasticity such as the lycra used in pantyhose, the form would then take shape of the sculpted sand and not the wrinkles of the fabric trying to catch every corner of the surface.

Could be nice too, if done right.

Experiments

A few of the experiments done thus far using

bed springs and pantyhose.

The first experiment that looks like a robust take on

a turkish hanging lamp didn't work... which I expected but still had to try.

The pantyhose got stuck in the casting as well as the springs.

In the second experiment, the reverse prosthesis came into play

with the pantyhose and using the sandbox as my container for the

the formwork... and what came out was very...

dildo-esque, but

this did provide me with further progress into manipulating the sand

inside the sand box as a possible formwork tool.

Playpen

Inside the latex portal...

under rotten floor boards

is a sandbox !!!!!

in fact the entire house on the main floor is covered in sand (and lots of beetles).

It is incredibly odd...

Here I am, inside an enclosed space in a house with a sandbox

and with the miniature analogue theatre back in Winnipeg, it seems

oddly fitting that the two conditions have found each other

in parallel spatial situations... which is great because this makes

bringing this theatre back to Canada... a simple act.

... the work begins

Latex Portal

The chosen portal.

Seems fitting to continue from last years work.

Available Materials

Above are the few remnants of the house.

There are at least 13 bed frames with rusty chains and springs.

Latex, pantyhose, grain bushel bags, old clothes and blankets.

Rusty tools, rusty nails... rusty bike frames.

Absurd amount of religious icons, crosses and prayer books

... bottles with unknown substances.

the hands are the measuring stick...

between thumb and pinky is 15 cm

... kidding about the measuring stick.

A Rare look at a Reverse Prosthesis

This is a rare prosthesis that caught my attention when drawing the study of

the built example in Turkey. The insides of the body

are extruded on the outside and placed so that it would be able

to contain it's own flesh when being demolished...

... now last year, I had done a study with skins and in the process

of making sausage from a pig we killed, the intestines (skin like tubes)

were extruded to contain it's own flesh...

once again...

this condition is appealing ( maybe stomach-turning for some... :))

Interpretations of Prostheses

As the thought of prosthesis lingers in my mind, examples of this condition begin to present itself in a different retrospect.

the psychological prosthesis

"home sweet home"

the metaphysical prosthesis

"the higher power"

the mechanical prosthesis

"I caught it"

and...

the building prosthesis

"all wrapped and propped up"

Turkish Prostheses Study

While in Turkey, for some reason the condition of prosthesis lingered in the back of my mind. It was suggested that I delve more into this condition of prosthesis and choose an

architectural example to study.

I had immediately chosen the place

of study and fortunately it was conveniently located near the hostel.

I took pictures of the building...

and then I caught myself in the act of my own prosthesis...

taking a picture for visual memory and planning to study it only later when I had time... But the funny thing is, I had all the time in the world to sit there and study it then! Where else was I going? It was a thought catching moment of delusion that I thought I had to take a picture of it to remind me of it later.

... so I let go of the shutter release b

utton on my new camera and felt a slight relief of freedom.

Sitting there, drawing and questioning my movements made me delve into a completely different perspective on my search in the research... at that moment there was a slight relief that the story that may have begun with death was now beginning to take a turn for something other... something more optimistic in the story... Now what may have seemed like a story of tragedy, is now a story of oo something other...

The modern man and building proportion

It seems fitting to inquiry into the condition of prostheses in relation to body and architecture.

The Vitruvian Man by Leanardo DaVinci draws out the condition of classical architecture as being proportioned to the human condition. Drawing out the proportional geometries found in man, Leonardo believed it was analogous to the workings of the universe… and my understanding is that within the architecture one is able to intuitively interpret this condition…

but modern man has slightly mutated since the mid 15^th century.

Invisible to the eye but more or less present in its comical yet unfortunate condition, our proportions have expanded into more complex manners and extensions of the human body that once seemed impossible… and so in response to this, our architecture has blown into significant proportions of mass identity through the production of mass assembly and thus behold

the Vitruvianspector!

Turkish Delight

… the cries of Istanbul

http://soundcloud.com/atrofia/turkish-delight

Istanbul, Turkey left me in a state of shock to say the least.

A state of delirium, I was like one of the many dogs and cats roaming it’s streets, in search of the next place to find shelter only to be caught in a labyrinth of cries for chai, Chai, CHAI! Slightly different from the time spent in the last two weeks in the emptiness and solitude of the abandoned farmhouse, gnawing at my bottom lip and asking myself ‘what am I doing here?’

Now in Istanbul, I was wanting to return to the house… for some intuitive reason or other, I felt that I had to go back and start… start something… not just pretty photos but actual physical building… I was hungry for it. I was ready to begin even though the first day back I kept repeating the words ‘kurwa, kurwa, kurwa' (english translation: fuck, fuck, fuck)

On the other hand, Istanbul was the sweet topping to the layers of investigation in the last few years to the inquiry ‘what of death.’Although I am unable to answer it in a few simple words just yet, the savor is long lasting and the trip provided a different interpretation of the condition...

for some reason the term prosthesis lingers on the tip of my tongue… and I am realizing just now that I am comparing the sense of taste as an analogy to the inquiry of death in architecture. Funny, but somehow fitting in a weird way ( if you had their baklava or any Turkish sweets, it would seem more fitting).

Portal 9a

Voted for by popular demand…

Portal 9a

Unfortunately, I did not choose this portal for my work… but I did choose the next on the list :)

Please watch video… enjoy!

… and back to the motherland

I am struggling to figure out where to begin… the portals were a vice for me to get into picking where I might begin to start working…

but instead I found out that when given the choice of choosing more than one portal, people will bank on the offer of providing more than one option.

… also the majority of choices were concentrated around 4 portals,which was somewhat anticipated but also surprising.

Portal 9a: without a door

Portal 7a: door inside a door

Portal 5a: from cellar darkness to light

Portal 4b: multiple level passages

I don’t know where to begin to describe why I am drawn to this house… There are moments when I am in its presence and want to run away… walking into this place is as if I have stepped back into decades past… accept I am in the present amongst swarms of spiders and there spinning webs in every possible juncture where it is feasible… and I tense up really quickly and try to dodge the webs, only to walk into the next one… I feel the need to shower constantly in these moments… but of course there is no running water or electricity in this house. The toilet is a hole carved in some wood planks in the barn… works just fine.

Albeit my modern prosthesis in living style, this condition was once familiar to me in my youth and well recognized in the simplicity of our need to shit and bathe.

I still find myself drawn to the room I worked in last year and can’t help but stare at the barren spot left behind from last years casting with a dead butterfly laying inside this imaginary frame…

I took this as a sign and have made my choice.

Meanwhile back in Winnipeg…

The miniature analogue world under Sister Mary’s Skirt…

(Unfortunately I didn’t take a photo of the outside of the theatre, but for those who have not seen the theatre, picture the matte grey, pleaded and button dresses that nuns wear in convents… and of course everywhere else)

allows time to slowly (yet superficially accelerated) creep on the

decay of materials. A latex sanctuary of UV lighting that eats

away at the microscopic impressions of our building materials

surface.

Left behind unattended, the masts begin to reveal light through

the body. The skin perishing away possesses… inevitable growth?

of something other…

What is other?

Why the interest of death in architecture…

In the last 3 years of study in architecture, the choice of material was a thorough way for me to get into the study of the conditions of built form.

Beginning with bamboo in 2008, the material when broken was followed

by the reciprocating strands that allowed me to delve into finding form through action.

In the following year (2009), I was awed by a castle in the woods, a castle that I had spent living across the street from before immigrating to Canada. The castle had degenerated in less than 30 years into crumbling sand and collapsing wood beams. I had stared out my window and played in these woods for years and not once noticed its slow death but only remember it being a grand fortress. As a child, it was my forbidden playground that I was told not to play in… but being the devilish child I once was…

I couldn't resist.

This lead to the initial investigation into the degeneration of skin (surfaces) in both animal and architectural bodies which allowed a further investigation into the degeneration of architecture and it’s affect on the human psyche but also on the potentials in building from whatever matter is left behind. Time began to play a critical role in the materials used(clay).

And today, the lingering interest lays in the condition of

“what then of death?”

Why does this afflicting desire keep drawing me into building from death? Or is it that I am drawn not to death itself but to the condition left behind… am I simply trying to pick up pieces to a shattered puzzle?

My understanding is that this desire has sniffed its way into the abandoned house of my late uncle, who’s slow decay even in his physical presence withered away together in simultaneity.

Through this uncanny parallel, both human body/character and architectural body/character seem to be uniquely similar… and the more time I spend in this house and listen to the stories of the inquisitive neighbors about the farm and my uncle, the more I find myself engulfed in the right trajectory of interpreting if not for others at least for myself the significance in sense of place, the role of architecture in our rather illusively short lives and why we find the need to continuously build even amongst the ruins.

I am HEARTH

Which PORTAL would you pick?

From the following portals,

do you wish to enter into any of these portals?

If so...

please pick the one you wish to enter and explore.

... if you can't settle with just one portal

pick three... or more, as you wish.

please leave your choice in the commentary section.

Where Are We?

Witamy/Welcome to Nieszczyce, Poland.

Please listen...

http://soundcloud.com/atrofia/stryjo-ed-1

The Act

... begins with death.

A story about the degeneration of an architectural body through an understanding of it's transformation between our own human biological clock and that of the earths biological clock.

Architectural ecology sits niched in between these two chronological orders and as the ongoing narrative develops, so do the characters who emerge from the scene only to bestow upon us their role in the larger context of our evolutionary processes and the significance of their actions in which they perform.

Here is their story...