Thursday, August 27, 2009

But where does the Phantom come from?

I was slightly disappointed by the article because I found that it very basically defined the steps that one applies to any project. You come up with a concept (the phantom), you define the major problems (the trunk of the tree?) and then you address the problems through a concrete form (which also defines space). Yes, but that just described, more or less, the process I have been going through for the last four years. These are all things that I know, and although it would have been helpful to read this article when first trying to establish an architectural working method, by now I, and hopefully everyone else, got it. When addressing the problem of a thesis, however, I think it would be much more helpful to, instead of telling us a general method with which to tackle our phantom, step back a couple of miles and address the simple and terrifying fact that I have no phantom to tackle! Sure I have ideas, thoughts, general principles I would like to explore, but I would like some help in determining which road to take. Right now my thesis is like a very clever little fish that bonds together with a bunch of other little fish to evade a predator (yes in this analogy I made myself a shark). I suppose the point I am trying to make is that instead of telling me that my thesis will need skin, I would like a bit more direction on how to choose a problem which will be influential to my personal growth, my education and to my career as an architect (as well as keeping me motivated for an entire year). I was looking for advice like ‘don’t try to do too much’, or ‘explore an endeavor that is personal, but not limited’, or ‘some of the common mistakes made by thesis students are:’. I use these as examples because they sound like good advice, but how would I know, I have never done this before. I was not necessarily looking for guidelines, but recommendations for a student that has never really defined a program let alone a concrete conceptual theory on architecture. Perhaps the article should be called ‘how to draw up a process’. I am now going to stop complaining about not getting my hand held.

I think a thesis is a project that demonstrates the power of architecture. It is no longer about manipulating a program to be efficient, beautiful, etc., but now about flexing my architectural muscles a little bit and really explore how impactful the built environment can be. I do think it needs to be something that hits home, something personally meaningful, but also certainly extend beyond the confines of one’s personal realm. Part of the reason that I was so disappointed with the lack of direction the article provided is because I have difficulty letting go of an idea once it is in my head. It is not even a fluid concept for very long. It is like quick dry cement in my head; it dries, and its there forever. This means that if I start down the wrong road, I’ll follow it to wherever it takes me, even if it is strait off a cliff.

Currently, I am playing with the idea of architecture as a method of making uninhabitable areas livable. It is interesting to think that over the last couple decades, the advancements in architecture have changed our ability to adapt to a habitat. This is especially applicable in areas where climatic challenges hinder the populations ability to thrive, specifically in the state of Alaska. More broadly, however, this extends to our ability to diversify what is though of as a traditional community or even house. When I was in third grade, we were asked to draw a picture of our street. ALL the houses and the streets were entirely uniform, enough so that when putting the pictures side by side, it looked like one continuous street. This is not only alarming, but unnecessary in a world where homogenization is not necessary. Why don’t we mix it up a bit and see what architecture, or rather we as architects, are really capable of.