They say architecture is a form of art, far different from the ones you generally see in a gallery. Indeed, seeing as architecture presents its form of art as the gallery itself, it has far more potential as an art form than anything it could possibly house. Architecture aims to please not only our sense of sight, our vision, but it also aims to please the other four senses. But wait, architecture of the SEVEN senses? This seems like a lot to accomplish, seeing as we are only aware of five senses so far in our lives.
However, architecture does make an impact on all of these senses, whether or not we are aware of this process. The building in which architecture presents itself, is not an end to itself. It frames, articulates, restructures, gives significance or hierarchy, relates, separates and unites. facilitates and prohibits. It does all these to create authentic architectural experiences. These consists of approaching a building rather than the facade itself, the act of entering a space and not simply entering the frame of the door, as well as looking out the frame of a window, not just the window itself.
To properly understand the concept behind the seven senses involved in architecture, we have to look at how architecture plays a part in these seven senses. The sight is the one architecture has the biggest impact upon. Before we enter or truly experience a building, it swiftly takes us by our sense of sight, we then allow ourselves to admire the architecture of a certain building, judging it from pillar to pillar, tile by tile. But the experience is not complete with only a single sense. As we approach the building, we experience things through our sense of smell. These scents mark the building, reminding us of the place whenever we chance across such scents, be it pleasant or less than so. Be there a garden with fragrant flowers or an unsightly pile of trash in the area, the scent will always be related to the building in which we first experienced such smell.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Monday, July 12, 2010
Monuments, Testimony & Memory
In history we try to commemorate the great people who have made our countries or the world what it is right now. We build sculptures and objects to remind the current and later generations of the contributions and sacrifices of the people who are long gone but not forgotten. Historians dedicate their studies to such people and museums are build to honor such people's contributions. Often the sculptures remind us of the great things in history, but the less pleasant things should not be far from memory as well. As the saying goes, 'those who do not learn history are doomed to repeat it' and it holds a certain amount of truth. Therefore, heroes and villians are commemorated to ensure we learn from their good values and learn from their mistakes. Along with events that affected the lives of the people then and now.
We find different sorts of ways to commemorate the dead, the ones who have gone before us. The more commonly seen ones would be sculptures, sculpted in the image of the people intended, with their legacy etched in stone. We learn to be appreciative of history and its course, creating works of art that reflects the deeds of the people who made our country or world what it is now. Several ways such as sculptures as well as architecture can properly commemorate these people if done properly.
Daniel Libeskind's Jewish Museum is such an effort to commemorate an event and it does it beautifully. The museum greatly represents the part of history it wishes to present. The building was completed in 1999 and opened to public in 2001. The intention of the museum was to remind the people of the fatal years of the Holocaust, Libeskind himself being affected by it, having lost most of his family then. Libeskind called this project 'Between the Lines', saying it is about two lines of thinking, organization and relationship. One being a straight line broken into many fragments while the other is a tortuous line continuing indefinitely. Libeskind, a musician himself, took inspiration from music and considered the museum the final act of Arnold Schoenberg's unfinished opera, Moses und Aron . Walter Benjamin's One Way Street's 60 sections determined the number of sections that comprise the museum's zigzag section. Crossing the zigzag sections is a straight line creating a linear void along the entire museum. The void represents what Libeskind claims was a part of Jewish German history which could not be exhibited, 'humanity reduced to ashes', referring to the Holocaust. The seemingly random lines on the museum are taken from Libeskind's interest in the Holocaust itself. He read the Gedenkbuch, the memorial book which had names of people who were deported from Berlin and killed in concentration camps during the years of the Holocaust.
The museum itself appeared to be a massive sculpture when it was completed, not having been open to public yet. The lines outside give no feeling to the interior space as a building should. As a sculpture, it presents itself beautifully, opening up to interpretations and having people read between the lines as Libeskind intended. As a building it properly tells the story intended, having voids and bridges signifying the sacrifice of so many people during the world war, the murders of the German Jews. As a museum, it completes the tale of the even, filling in blanks in which people interpret from the building itself. It is a successful way of commemorating the dead as it tells their story without a single word, even before you step into the building itself.
However, the monuments and museums in Malaysia do little justice to the ones who have done so much for our country. Daniel Libeskind put in a lot of thought into his design, as well as the fact that he was affected directly, having lost loved ones in the Holocaust. Most monuments in Malaysia do not cause us to look twice, having end up as a landmark or a proposed meeting point. Often we forget that it was because of the sacrifices of the war heroes in the past that we are what we are today, otherwise we might have still been under the colonization of the British, or worse.
As we are not affected directly by such events, we know too little to properly commemorate the ones who have so lovingly sacrificed for the country. Having only writings and word of mouth to go by, we may not be able to properly commemorate the patriots. However, we can help these people remain in the memory of every Malaysian. Simple sculptures do little justice to ones who do so much, therefore a structure that could tell their tale is more effective, one that could cause people to think, not just look. A building or a structure that could properly tell the story of the people who have gone before us, their tales and legacies left behind, their fight towards the liberation of this country from the rule of other countries, not simple sculptures that we drive or walk by everyday without even noticing.
We find different sorts of ways to commemorate the dead, the ones who have gone before us. The more commonly seen ones would be sculptures, sculpted in the image of the people intended, with their legacy etched in stone. We learn to be appreciative of history and its course, creating works of art that reflects the deeds of the people who made our country or world what it is now. Several ways such as sculptures as well as architecture can properly commemorate these people if done properly.
Daniel Libeskind's Jewish Museum is such an effort to commemorate an event and it does it beautifully. The museum greatly represents the part of history it wishes to present. The building was completed in 1999 and opened to public in 2001. The intention of the museum was to remind the people of the fatal years of the Holocaust, Libeskind himself being affected by it, having lost most of his family then. Libeskind called this project 'Between the Lines', saying it is about two lines of thinking, organization and relationship. One being a straight line broken into many fragments while the other is a tortuous line continuing indefinitely. Libeskind, a musician himself, took inspiration from music and considered the museum the final act of Arnold Schoenberg's unfinished opera, Moses und Aron . Walter Benjamin's One Way Street's 60 sections determined the number of sections that comprise the museum's zigzag section. Crossing the zigzag sections is a straight line creating a linear void along the entire museum. The void represents what Libeskind claims was a part of Jewish German history which could not be exhibited, 'humanity reduced to ashes', referring to the Holocaust. The seemingly random lines on the museum are taken from Libeskind's interest in the Holocaust itself. He read the Gedenkbuch, the memorial book which had names of people who were deported from Berlin and killed in concentration camps during the years of the Holocaust.
The museum itself appeared to be a massive sculpture when it was completed, not having been open to public yet. The lines outside give no feeling to the interior space as a building should. As a sculpture, it presents itself beautifully, opening up to interpretations and having people read between the lines as Libeskind intended. As a building it properly tells the story intended, having voids and bridges signifying the sacrifice of so many people during the world war, the murders of the German Jews. As a museum, it completes the tale of the even, filling in blanks in which people interpret from the building itself. It is a successful way of commemorating the dead as it tells their story without a single word, even before you step into the building itself.
However, the monuments and museums in Malaysia do little justice to the ones who have done so much for our country. Daniel Libeskind put in a lot of thought into his design, as well as the fact that he was affected directly, having lost loved ones in the Holocaust. Most monuments in Malaysia do not cause us to look twice, having end up as a landmark or a proposed meeting point. Often we forget that it was because of the sacrifices of the war heroes in the past that we are what we are today, otherwise we might have still been under the colonization of the British, or worse.
As we are not affected directly by such events, we know too little to properly commemorate the ones who have so lovingly sacrificed for the country. Having only writings and word of mouth to go by, we may not be able to properly commemorate the patriots. However, we can help these people remain in the memory of every Malaysian. Simple sculptures do little justice to ones who do so much, therefore a structure that could tell their tale is more effective, one that could cause people to think, not just look. A building or a structure that could properly tell the story of the people who have gone before us, their tales and legacies left behind, their fight towards the liberation of this country from the rule of other countries, not simple sculptures that we drive or walk by everyday without even noticing.
Monday, July 5, 2010
Remembering The Home
In the process of growing up, it holds true that the childhood home affects a person the most, in terms of growing up and the moulding of a person's personality. Some may say it's a process no child cares about, but subliminally it is the house that shapes the child subconsciously into the person he/she is today. It shapes our understanding of spatial characteristics and qualities, the house is a silent teacher. The creaking staircase, worn out floor tiles, walls that held for years without a single complaint and the doors that tire from being slammed repeatedly. The house teaches us patiently, over the years, without regard for whether or not we understood the lessons taught.
Truthfully the house one grows up in leaves a lasting impression on the person, whether or not the person decides to admit it. What your house was, is or should have been will forever be perhaps at the back of your head, playing an important part in an individual's perception of space. The place i grew up in, the place i call home, is but a simple brick house. Often i fail to understand how this simple double storey house plays a vital part in my understanding of place and architecture. Perhaps i've began to take the place i grew up in for granted. However i find that i have learnt much from this house.
Nevertheless, the way my childhood home affected me was not a direct one. Perhaps like Mies, the house that helped me understand was more of a house i didn't have. I have lived in my childhood house for the past 20 years and it still feels the same. It is a simple double-storey house with 3 bedrooms. From the exterior it looks like any other normal house should be, simple and inviting. Upon entering the house one would be standing in the living room, a small one but comfortable, enough to fit a sofa and a television for family movies and the sort. Next up is the dining area, there sits a dining table for breakfast, lunch, dinner and everything in between. To the left would be the staircase, creaky but sturdy as ever even after two decades of service. Straight ahead is the kitchen, bigger than necessary however. Inside the kitchen, there is a toilet and a storeroom. Backtracking to the staircase, walking upwards there would be another living room in the heart of the first floor, three other doors visible, leading into the three bedrooms.
I'm not complaining about my house, however. But in my opinion it could have been better, in living in this house i have learnt of several do's and don't's of design and spatial planning. This house would be said to have a rather indirect method of teaching me spatial characteristics. For one, the kitchen takes up about 1/3 of the length of the house, although it consists of a storeroom and a toilet, a kitchen need not take up so much space. The space mentioned could be used towards the betterment of the comfort in the house. Not to say that my house isn't at all comfortable.
Regarding this example, i find most of my designs, whether they be on paper or not, consists of a kitchen that takes up little to no space at all, a kitchen that may be integrated with the dining room. That or a smaller kitchen would be more favorable in my opinion. For me, the living room is the heart of the house, and should be the part of the house that takes up the most area. My house does not consist of a huge living area, but i would prefer if it had. These are the sort of examples of the things my childhood home has thought me, and it has visibly affected my design choices.
This much being said, our childhood home may not be the most perfect of houses. It is there to provide shelter from the elements, and to silently guide us in whatever ways it is able. The house i live in may not be flawless, but i have found myself in this house and it has greatly affected my thoughts and ideals in architecture and spatial comfort. And for all these, i feel that there is truly no place like home.
Truthfully the house one grows up in leaves a lasting impression on the person, whether or not the person decides to admit it. What your house was, is or should have been will forever be perhaps at the back of your head, playing an important part in an individual's perception of space. The place i grew up in, the place i call home, is but a simple brick house. Often i fail to understand how this simple double storey house plays a vital part in my understanding of place and architecture. Perhaps i've began to take the place i grew up in for granted. However i find that i have learnt much from this house.
Nevertheless, the way my childhood home affected me was not a direct one. Perhaps like Mies, the house that helped me understand was more of a house i didn't have. I have lived in my childhood house for the past 20 years and it still feels the same. It is a simple double-storey house with 3 bedrooms. From the exterior it looks like any other normal house should be, simple and inviting. Upon entering the house one would be standing in the living room, a small one but comfortable, enough to fit a sofa and a television for family movies and the sort. Next up is the dining area, there sits a dining table for breakfast, lunch, dinner and everything in between. To the left would be the staircase, creaky but sturdy as ever even after two decades of service. Straight ahead is the kitchen, bigger than necessary however. Inside the kitchen, there is a toilet and a storeroom. Backtracking to the staircase, walking upwards there would be another living room in the heart of the first floor, three other doors visible, leading into the three bedrooms.
I'm not complaining about my house, however. But in my opinion it could have been better, in living in this house i have learnt of several do's and don't's of design and spatial planning. This house would be said to have a rather indirect method of teaching me spatial characteristics. For one, the kitchen takes up about 1/3 of the length of the house, although it consists of a storeroom and a toilet, a kitchen need not take up so much space. The space mentioned could be used towards the betterment of the comfort in the house. Not to say that my house isn't at all comfortable.
Regarding this example, i find most of my designs, whether they be on paper or not, consists of a kitchen that takes up little to no space at all, a kitchen that may be integrated with the dining room. That or a smaller kitchen would be more favorable in my opinion. For me, the living room is the heart of the house, and should be the part of the house that takes up the most area. My house does not consist of a huge living area, but i would prefer if it had. These are the sort of examples of the things my childhood home has thought me, and it has visibly affected my design choices.
This much being said, our childhood home may not be the most perfect of houses. It is there to provide shelter from the elements, and to silently guide us in whatever ways it is able. The house i live in may not be flawless, but i have found myself in this house and it has greatly affected my thoughts and ideals in architecture and spatial comfort. And for all these, i feel that there is truly no place like home.
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