Category Archives: Architecture

Topophilia

19 Sunday Jul 2020

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“The house resembles a child’s drawing.  A deputizing childishness which grew forth because someone prematurely renounced the charge of being a child. Open the doors, enter! Inside unrest dwells in the ceiling and peace in the walls. Above the bed there hangs an amateur painting representing a ship with seventeen sails, rough sea and a wind which the gilded frame cannot subdue.

It is always so early in here, it is before the crossroads, before the irrevocable choices. I am grateful for this life!  And yet I miss the alternatives. All sketches wish to be real.”

Tomas Tranströmer in La place sauvage- Det vilda torget

“There exists for each one of us an oneiric house, a house of dream-memory, that is lost in the shadow of a beyond of the real past.”

Gaston Bachelard – La poétique de l’espace.

 

Futurology

17 Friday Jul 2020

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Man get lost in the city without limit.  Architects enlarged the tunnel until we lost sight of its walls. They support, strengthen, charge the density of the miniaturized world and then they invent windows to run away in slow motion.

“Already more than once I’ve been asked why I think or imagine a utopian country, a utopian world where everything will be good, in which we all will be good. Answering this, if you constantly compare yourself to the horror of this everyday life, can be a paradox, because what we have is nothing. You are rich if you have something that is more than material things. And I don’t believe in this materialism, this consummation society, this capitalism, this monstrosity that is perpetrated here, this enrichment of people who have no right to get rich behind our backs. I truly believe in something, and then I say ′′ a day will come “. And a day will come. Yes, it probably won’t come, because they’ve always destroyed it, it’s been so many millennia that they destroy it. It won’t come and nevertheless I believe it, because if I couldn’t believe it anymore, I couldn’t even write anymore.”

Ingeborg Bachmann

(Rome, October 17, 1973…)

That’s what I am

30 Tuesday Jun 2020

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”Perhaps that’s what I feel, an outside and an inside and me in the middle, perhaps that’s what I am, the thing that divides the world in two, on the one side the outside, on the other the inside, that can be as thin as foil, I’m neither one side nor the other, I’m in the middle, I’m the partition, I’ve two surfaces and no thickness, perhaps that’s what I feel, myself vibrating, I’m the tympanum, on the one hand the mind, on the other the world, I don’t belong to either”

« C’est peut-être ça que je sens, qu’il y a un dehors et un dedans et moi au milieu, c’est peut-être ça que je suis, la chose qui divise le monde en deux, d’une part le dehors, de l’autre le dedans, ça peut être mince comme une lance, je ne suis ni d’un côté ni de l’autre, je suis au milieu, je suis la cloison, j’ai deux faces et pas d’épaisseur, c’est peut-être ça que je sens, je me sens qui vibre, je suis le tympan, d’un côté c’est le crâne, de l’autre le monde, je ne suis ni l’un ni l’autre »

Samuel Beckett, l’innommable, Paris, 1953, p.204

 

Space is a doubt

21 Sunday Jun 2020

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Pictures by a friend : Emil Przepiorski
The wall has been like this since the Warsaw Uprising in 1944. German bullet marks.

“To live is to pass from one space to another, while doing your very best not to bump yourself. Space is a doubt” /  “Vivre, c’est passer d’un espace à un autre, en essayant le plus possible de ne pas se cogner. L’espace est un doute.“

G. Perec, Espèces d’espaces, p 14

Sapiens Architecture

03 Monday Sep 2018

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How does capitalist man in the 21th century express his need for an interior?

The arcade heralds the abolition of the outside world. It abolishes outdoor markets and brings them indoors into a closed sphere.

The antagonistic spatial types of salon and market meld here to form a hybrid.

Man seeks to expand his living room into a cosmos and at the same time to impress the dogmatic form of a room on the universe.

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Faire du sordide – Fernand Pouillon “mémoires d’un Architecte”.

26 Thursday Jan 2017

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”Depuis cent ans, le monde des bâtisseurs joue les apprentis sorciers avec la vie des hommes. L’art, l’architecture notamment, évolue dans un sens de plus en plus ésotérique. Graphisme et photographie ont fait basculer les maisons et les monuments dans un univers d’abstraction.

la représentation prend des libertés avec la réalité ou la moque. Les génies de notre époque s’attachent trop à ce qu’ils jugent “publiables”, photogénique.”

Fernand Pouillon

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Lost Architecture with George Oppen

27 Tuesday Oct 2015

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River of our substance

Flowing

With the rest. River of the substqnce

of the earth’s curve, river of the substance

Of the sunrise, river of silt, of erosion, flowing

To no imaginable sea. But the mind rises

Into Happiness, rising

Into what is there. I know of no other

Nor have I ever witnessed it… Islands

To the north

In polar mist

In the rather shallow sea

Nothing more

But the sense

Of where we are

Who are most northerly. The marvel of wave

Even here is its noise seething

In the world; I thought that even if there were nothing

The possibility of being would exist;

I thought I had encountered

Permanence; thought leaped on us in that sea

For in that sea we breathe the open

Miracle

Of place, and speak

If we would rescue

Love to the ice-lit

Upper World a substnatial language

Of clarity, and respect.
George Oppen

Lost Architecture

27 Tuesday Oct 2015

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UN RÉCIT, 11

Fleuve de notre substance
S’écoulant
Avec le reste. Fleuve de la substance
De la courbe terrestre, fleuve de la substance
Du lever du soleil, fleuve de limon, d’érosion, s’écoulant
Vers une inimaginable mer. Mais l’esprit se lèveDans le bonheur, se lève

Au milieu de ce qui est. Je ne connais pas d’autre bonheur
Ni n’en ai été témoin… Les îles
Vers le nord

Dans le brouillard polaire
Et la mer peu profonde –
Rien d’autre

Sinon la sensation
De l’endroit où nous sommes

Nous qui sommes le plus au nord. La merveille de la vague
Même ici c’est l’écho de son bouillonnement
Dans le monde ; je songeais que même s’il n’y avait rien

La possibilité d’être existerait ;
Je songeais que j’avais rencontré

La permanence ; la pensée nous assaillait dans cette mer
Car nous y respirons l’évident
Miracle

Du lieu, et parlons
Si nous devons sauver
L’amour au Monde d’En Haut

Éclairé par la glace un langage substantiel
De clarté, et de respect.

George Oppen