architek10 eStudio

The Foun10head

2011-12-16T14:10:00.006Z

I graduated from the MArch course at the University of Ulster in June 2011. The course was a long, difficult, often thankless and occasionally fruitless task – and I loved it. I loved what Rem Koolhaas referred to as ‘the freefall of pure speculation.’* The creativity, much like the theoretical possibilities, were endless. Architectural education is a chance to act like the ‘StArchitects’ or the early modernists. A chance to conceive and (somewhat) realise an idea of purity, selfishly uncompromised by the ideas or interference of others. A chance to live that Roarkian** fantasy.

And then I graduated.

I stepped out into a professional wasteland, at first dazzled by the light beyond the confines of academia. As the reality of the situation gradually slid into view I realised I had little or no possibility of actually building within the confines of a professional office. The practices I called requesting employment sounded as desperate and as scared as I did. The one interview I was lucky enough to get was in a gray, ramshackle civil service office conducted by an eccentric, ramshackle civil servant who filled me with excitement regarding the design of gray functional boxes for gray functional activities.

The e-mail of rejection was waiting in my inbox when I arrived home. Oversubscribed, the position given to a past employee. Understandable, infuriating, demoralising.

I joined a host of job agencies in the vain hope of landing something related to my chosen path, no matter how vague the connection may be. One place painstakingly took details of my qualifications, experience, proficiencies and interests. They got me a job in a bowling alley.

It is from these ashes that Architek10 was reborn as a design practice. Originally started as a student organisation, apathy amongst everyone but it’s two founders put a halt to it almost immediately. Perhaps now it will allow us to return in some way to that Roarkian fantasy. This would never have happened had we been warmly ensconced in some office given a different economic climate. I could easily cite romantic notions about scorched earth being more fertile, about the fresh green shoots of creativity, but the fact remains that it all still remains a struggle. I still need to work in order to live, which architecture simply cannot support at the minute. The difference seems to be that this new rash of architectural activity means that it doesn’t feel like I’m just living for the future anymore.

* 'Imagining the Nothingness,' Rem Koolhaas (1985) - Found in 'Content' (2003)
**A reference to the main character Howard Roark in Ayn Rand's The Fountiainhead (1943)

Architectural Education & the Fee Increases

2010-11-24T12:44:00.008Z

We have all seen the fees demonstrations, and many of us have been too busy to participate. Unfortunate, but we can’t all afford to attend sit-ins in the run-up to the exam period. I was aching to join in but, as I near then end of further education, it isn’t really my battle.

Well, that’s not really true.

The architectural profession is going to suffer a catastrophic change as a result of this legislation. Indeed, society will change fundamentally. As we all know, as a university degree, architecture is unique. It doesn’t quite belong anywhere. And it already costs a bloody fortune. Most of us will graduate with around £40,000 debt. Ten years ago, you might have graduated with a £1,000 overdraft to worry about. Ah, wouldn’t that be a dream? Now, those coming behind us will be worrying about whether there will be architectural education at all.

There are several issues at play here. The first is the issue of diversity in architecture. The profession has fought long and hard over the past twenty years to try to redress the traditional imbalance within the field. For too long, architecture has been the mainstay of upper-middle class men. For too long women and the working classes have been discouraged from entering architecture. We can now all but cede defeat on progress on that issue. No more will people from low-earning families be able to contemplate a career in architecture, and with a massive increase in pressure on places, women can be sure to be squeezed out too, all to the detriment of the profession; because lets face it, architecture is aggressive, and it will become more so.

The structure of education will change fundamentally. The past decade or so has seen a shift in architecture, with particular regard to architectural education, from an engineering discipline with an artistic aspect towards an artistic endeavour with an engineering basis. The changes in funding mean that arts degrees are going to loose all funding, spelling the end of arts architecture degrees. This will mean all those youthful, innovative new architecture schools up and down the UK will close, and we’ll be back to the stuffy, traditional form of architecture education. The profession will return to a rational discipline, eschewing the artistic endeavour it has become.

Architecture schools are already under-funded, with huge pressures on space. It is quite expensive to provide the current facilities. We all know that studios are often too meagre in their space provision, and it will get worse. Architecture schools without workshops are often much poorer, and these resources will be the first to go. The result will be an educational culture which takes place outside the studio, with students working from home, attending university only for lectures and the odd tutorial. The student will be much more isolated, and the learning experience will be much less collaborative.

Already, students with the financial resources of wealthy parents always succeed in architectural education, because they can comfortably afford all the resources which working-class students cannot. Architectural education requires vast amounts of money to produce the investigation required to succeed. A student loan barely covers the cost of living, so unless you have other resources, you will struggle to keep up with your peers, much less excel. The proposed changes will deter anyone but the wealthy from entering the profession. The gap will widen, not narrow.

As we have seen over the past decade, the cost of education has risen exponentially. We are told that there will be a £6,000 fee-cap, unless in exceptional circumstances. With architecture being one of the most expensive courses to deliver it is likely to qualify for the top band of £9,000. But we can be virtually guaranteed that it won’t stop there. How high are fees likely to go? £15,000 £20,000? Who knows?

How many working class people are likely to want to start out on life with a £150,000 debt? That’s a £300,000 debt per household, before you even start out on life, never mind the interest. Will this mean the end of private home ownership for all but the upper classes? Lets not forget that in the modern world a university degree is all but a necessity in the workplace, and hardly a privilege at all. So, in order to achieve anything other than a minimum wage job, you will be required to get into £90,000 of debt. And where will all this money go? Who will provide these loans? Will they be provided by banks, who will make money from the interest after having squandered the nations value and gotten us into this mess? Or will, as currently happens, the government bank your monthly repayments, take money off the monthly interest that you repay, before making annual repayments on your loan, thus pocketing the profits of speculations on your money?

This brings me to the fundamental issue of the principle of this change in how we value our society. The argument is that students should invest in their own future. We know from international research, and we can see it quite plainly in action, that national investment in higher education benefits everyone in society, not just the graduates. The most vulnerable members of society, those on benefits, benefit most from investment in society. If we look at countries with imbalanced higher education systems, like America, we see that their education system is a disaster, an international laughing stock, with an incredibly unequal society that results in a much less productive economy. And everybody suffers because of it. The poor are much poorer; crime rates are much higher; the health system is much worse; the social security system costs much more; the average life expectancy is much lower. And even the best graduates are much dimmer than you would expect.

Not only do the proposed changes in educational funding imply the end of architectural education, but they also represent an erosion of social progress; a regression to a Victorian standard of class division and values.

I think, no matter what my university commitments come the next round of protests, I’ll be out on the street.

Gabhan Bradley - 6thb year architecture student

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The Grand Tour (Five Architects & ‘de’ Volvo)

2010-11-24T12:19:00.007Z

A reflection of the trip from Belfast to Porto - 15th to the 24th January 2010

The University Of Ulster School Of Architecture has always encouraged students to travel so they can learn through exploration and experience. Cultural context forms an integral part of the schools education programme and experiencing other cultures first hand is one of the best ways of learning about them.

Porto was the destination chosen for 2010 and the dates were set for the sixth year trip. Porto only being a mere 2000 miles drive away gave some of us the perfect ‘excuse’ to take the car. Our intentions were to see as much as possible and be free to stop where and when we wanted. Kitted out with a sat-nav, The Phaidon Atlas (travel edition) and frequent access to Google we were guided to some interesting projects. Our logical thinking was telling us that the trip ahead was ambitious, but limits of distance and time fell within our capabilities. We sacrificed the comfort of a plane seat to satisfy our desires to see more along the roads, and we got more than we bargained for.

Two hundred years ago The Grand Tour of Europe was the most exciting travel experience any young person was likely to encounter. The privileged youth of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries went on voyages to experience new cultures, learn about geography, art, language and architecture. Their experiences were wide and varied, they documented details of carriages breaking down, lives lost and treasured artefacts of art and literature were exported back to their home lands as souvenirs. Their high class morals were often left at the border as they veered from their path to gamble and drink in bathhouses and brothels across Europe.

When we five voyagers were packed into the Volvo saloon you can imagine the lessons in scale we went through. Firstly there was the problem of baggage, and hence the boot had to be practically vacuum sucked for it all to fit. Then there was the lack of leg room, arm room and even air! However the very fact of travelling like this added to our experience, ideas and opinions were shared and there was no space avoided. The conversations were at times both agreeable and argumentative. The important thing is that we did this collectively and as one shared others listened. Travelling through the landscape allowed us time to reflect on many things, whether it was the breakfast we had that morning, the price of fuel or the delicately finished surfaces of Le Corbusier’s Firminy Church. We were learning more from each other than ever expected, I suppose you could say the ‘studio’ environment was taken to new levels; no models, no laptops… just conversation and sketch books.

Architects travel every second of every day, their paths are constant journeys of experience and education. Metaphorically the mind is used like a sponge to absorb surroundings, and when ‘rung’ out onto a page these previous experiences help form the position of that designer’s mindset. Education through contact with other people, sights and societies is essential to the formation of that mindset.

We received valuable lessons as we got a hands on feeling of the materials each project was constructed with, some which were effortlessly joined and others were incredibly simple but successful. Le Corbusier’s use of in-situ concrete in contrast with the glazing of Musac - Leon, Spain – presented us with logic, craft and an understanding of the thought process that went into each detail.

We sampled the local treats along the way, whether it was the nicotine drenched ‘tapas’ we downed at 3am in St.Ettien in some lonely bar or the brochettes at 8.30am at the foot of Abalos and Herros’s Four Towers in Victoria they all added to our experience. This trip was one where the phrases ‘por favor’ and ‘grandes, más grande’ were getting regular use. The notorious visit to McDonnalds even surprised us as we were delighted to see they severed the local brew, complimented with insulated cups, plastic lid and all. All this however did not dampen our appetite for discovering the next project on the ‘hit’ list. In fact it was essential in attempting to understand the culture that surrounded us.

Our tour was an unforgettable ten day experience, and it was worth every penny and every mile.

A special thanks: Thanks to Michael and Lorna Ferguson for hosting us at their converted church in the South of France. Your kindness will never be forgotten. Thank you. It’s worth noting: Most university trips are self funded by students who are already under financial pressure. These opportunities for travelling are invaluable experiences, especially in the field of Architecture. If you have any ideas as to how future students can raise funds or receive grants/scholarships then please comment below.

Travellers(from left to right): Keith Willis, Peter McGonigle, Eamon Phelan, John McGuigan & Ronan Fitzpatrick.

Projects Visited: ENGLAND Cambridge - Accordia Housing - Feilden Clegg Bradley Walsall - The New Art Gallery - Caruso St John Architects Birmingham - Selfridges Commercial Centre - Future systems FRANCE Eveux, Lyon - Monastery of La Tourette - Le Corbusier Firminy - La Stade - Le Corbusier Firminy - Masion de la Culture - Le Corbusier Firminy - Swimming pool - Le Corbusier Firminy - Unité d’habitation - Le Corbusier Firminy - L’Eglise Saint-Pierre - Le Corbusier Mancioux - Church (Residential Conversion) - Michael Ferguson Millau - Millau Bridge - Norman Foster SPAIN Leon - City Morgue / Funeral Home – Baas Architects Leon - Concert Hall - Mansilla + Tunón Leon - Musac - Mansilla + Tunón Leon - Council Offices (Casa Botines) - Gaudi Bilbao - International Airport - Calatrava Bilbao - Guggenheim - Frank Gehry Bilbao - Palacio Euskalduna Concert Hall - Aala Fererico Soriano & Dolores Palacios Bilbao - Zubizuri Bridge - Calatrava Vitoria - Four towers – Abalos & Herreros Behobla Irun - Civic Council Office Tower - HF Arquitectos Bilbao -Bridge - Calatrava Bilbao -Bridge - Calatrava PORTUGAL Porto - Swimming pools – Alvaro Siza Porto - Tea House – Alvaro Siza Porto - University of Architecture – Alvaro Siza Porto - Museum and Sculpture Garden – Alvaro Siza Porto - Bouca Housing – Alvaro Siza Porto - Burgo Office Tower - Eduardo Souto de Moura Porto - Casa de Musica - O.M.A.

John McGuigan - Graduate of the University of Ulster's Masters Program

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Learning Like The French

2010-11-24T11:50:00.011Z

Why would anybody in their right mind, extend a six year course, by their own choice? Additionally why would anybody extend their architecture studies? Well, I did. In May 2009, I opened an email offering two masters students a chance to study in France, the catch... it doesn’t count towards RIBA studies. Spending a year in France, semi-funded versus extending my 2 year masters by a year? The decision wasn’t easy, lots of consultation and lists of pros and cons, led me to do one thing... flip a coin, France it was?

I arrived in Saint Étienne, the small former mining town in France, in early August to house-hunt with a friend. It was raining; not the summer weather we had expected. Walking down the very first street and looking at what was seemingly, from my map, the centre of the town; I began to cry. It looked so destitute, all the shop shutters were down even though it was the middle of the day- I found out later that this was the period of ‘les grandes vacances’ , when all of France closes down.

I left with a better impression... in the mean time the sun had decided to grace us with its presence. Although house-less, we left Sainte, to enjoy a real holiday in Lyon. It was only three weeks later, I returned, suitcase in-hand to my fellow Erasmus-ers in the centre of Sainté. I soon found an apartment with 5 other people,3 other French guys, a French girl and a Spanish girl. Enormous, slightly bohemian and gregarious; I was content. The first few weeks in the house were comical; sign-language of sorts was invaluable; as I hadn’t a clue what they were saying to me. I spent the whole time smiling like a weirdo because I was trying to come across as a nice person... without speaking.

This trend followed suit in uni, ENSASE, l’Ecole Nationale Superior de Saint Étienne. Following two weeks of ‘intensive French classes’, I realised that my French, although by no means conversational was better than other Erasmus students , who were lost after ‘Bonjour’. I by contrast was lost after ‘Comment tu t’appelle.’ I went to France for two reasons: to learn French and to study architecture. I did both, however it wasn’t all rosy, until Christmas I just sat around with a confused look on my face, even when something was being explained directly to me, after that it slowly began to sink in. The snow and cold weather didn’t do much to lighten the burden of my apparent lack of intelligence that had overcome me...through the language barrier. This left my, already low, architectural intelligence in a bit of a sorry state.

With the sun, came the fun. In the second semester, I changed my design modules, of which we had three to pick. From Urbanism, Design and Landscape in the first semester I, unfortunately, chose urbanism. I didn’t make the same mistake twice; I chose design for the second semester. A new energy was added to my week... I finally had work and project and ideas. For the first time since May ’10, I felt stimulated in class. The final semester was juggling this newfound workload and fitting in all the things that we didn’t get around to doing in the area. Erasmus nights out made a come-back from December in the knowledge that we didn’t have much time left. It was fast and furious but the days were longer, the sun had started to show its face...summer and the excitement and sadness that the year was over filled my last few weeks. Luckily our studio group had a week-long trip to Switzerland; which was probably the most amazing architectural trip that I have ever done. It has left me with the want to return someday to work.

I stayed on in France until the start of August, travelling and enjoying the weather. Coming back was...ok. It marked the end of my French experience, and therefore was tinged with sadness but I was ready for the madness that is architecture in Belfast. No more two-hour lunches or multi-cultural nights out in flats and woollies but noise, chat and my own desk! Would I do it all over again? No, I could be finished rather than facing into the depths of 6th year. Would I change it if I had the chance? No.

‘Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbour. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.’ Mark Twain

Catriona Hickey - 6th year MArch student

When the school of architecture finally decided to introduce the possibility of study abroad through the ERASMUS program a year and a half ago, I jumped at the chance. It has always been my dream to study in France, and frankly I was, at that point, too terrified and unprepared to start my final year. I decided it would be a great opportunity to put this horror off, but that it would also look great on my C.V.

The semesters were longer than I’m used to but the year flew by; in September I made a complete hash of my first French presentation and the first years were welcomed in a hail of flour, eggs and other embarrassing integration games. In October, we celebrated Halloween a week early causing a lady on the tram to offer me a tissue because she thought the blood was real. November was filled with exams and coursework due before we went home in December. Still feeling festive in January we celebrated being back together again. In February, our numbers were halved and then doubled, because some of our friends were there for one semester not two, but we celebrated that too. In March, we built a shelter from cardboard boxes, one resembling a labyrinth of caves big enough for thirty people and then I started to plan my April holidays; a trip to Lyon and Paris with a friend who was spending the year in Perpignan. Suddenly it was May and my friends from the University finished up and started moving on, so we partied on a hill top, we had a picnic, watched the sunset and one guy spat fire. June flew by too quickly; exams, projects and planning for Les Briques d’Or, the final part. A great night, everybody dressed to impress, we all laughed as the teachers received their awards, we danced and then I had to go, my train left in the morning. And it was over. A whirlwind of awesome events, great people from all over the world and the whole culture I had experienced, gone, left behind.

I miss it, and I miss my new friends, but I’m not sad. That was our year, the only time we’ll all be together like that, all I have now some great memories and fantastic photos, but I like that. We’ve all gone home to continue our studies, different and hopefully better people and I know that I’ll see them again, it’s also a great excuse for me to travel a bit and visit new places. It was also a great opportunity to learn who I am on my own, and I’ve come home feeling much more confident and ready for my final year.

Eva McGowan

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The Elephant in Opmeer (that nobody wants to talk about)

2010-10-29T13:02:00.010+01:00

It’s incredible how the ‘global recession’ has impacted on Architecture throughout Europe and the UK. One aspect I find interesting, and perversely magnificent, is the existence of half built projects that have halted as a result of funding being pulled from under their feet.

During my placement year as a Part 1 Architect I spent some time in The Netherlands working for a company called Dok Architecten. Shortly after I arrived at Dok I was informed that our team, Dok 1, would be attending a ceremony that takes place at the beginning of most important construction projects in The Netherlands. This celebration was called the ‘Eerste Paal’ or ‘First Pole’, the foundation element required in most Dutch projects, known to us as the simple Pile. It certainly was a prestigious event, with bands playing and balloons flying. This project would be the ill fated Scheringa Museum.

Over my time at Dok I had the opportunity to work on the Scheringa Museum, be it through interior model making to constriction detailing. The design Architect for this project was Herman Zeinstra, one the great Dutch Architects who, for some reason, does not hold the fame of some of his peers outside The Netherlands. It was a beautifully detailed project, as was the nature of Hermans Architecture, with a mix of classical extravagance and modern minimalism. The client for this grand project was the Dutch tycoon, sports enthusiast and art collector, Dirk Scheringa.

Dirk Scheringa, as well as owning the already existing Scheringa museum, also owned a Dutch soccer team, AZ (Alkmaar Zaanstreek), and his own bank DSB. It was reported that Scheringa had used the art collection already existing in the museum to get a mortgage to build the new 32milion Euro museum in Opmeer.

When the financial crisis continued at full wrath, it became clear that Scheringa was unable to payback the loans given by another larger Dutch bank, ABN Amro. In October of 2009 ABN Amro sent the heavies round to confiscate the art from the existing museum. As a refusal to lay back, the staff of the museum decided to keep the museum open with what remained of the collection, offering customers, who now entered free of charge, to pick up felt pens as they entered the museum, and encouraged them to write messages on the walls where the art once resided.

So what does all this mean for the mighty new museum, standing large in a field in the town of Opmeer? For now, who knows? The disaster was brought to my attention when contacting a friend, Steve Reid of Joustra Reid Architects, back in November last year. In an email Steve said, “Now there’s a half finished beast standing in the middle of nowhere… not sure what they’re going to put in it.”

Putting aside my feelings towards capitalist excess, for Herman's sake I hope this project gets finished. If this trend continues for years to come, archaeologists may be uncovering skeletal structures in 2000 years from now, wondering why the screed of this magnificent building had never been laid.

Roy Fitzpatrick - 6th Year MArch Student

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A Day at the Museum

2010-10-28T18:21:00.013+01:00

My first visit to the Ulster Museum must have been some time in 1987 or ’88 as a primary one pupil, a sort of ‘rite of passage’ for many Belfast primary school children. From that trip not much is remembered – the vastness of the Machine Hall, the T-Rex skull and for some reason, the water feature in the central courtyard. There were many subsequent visits during my teenage years and later as a student of architecture, when the sheer brilliance of the building began to become more apparent: how the sequence of spaces actually worked (the ‘promenade architecturale’), the references to Le Corbusier in the form of the balconies and the fenestration patterns, and just how skilfully and successfully this Brutalist monolith had been married into a reserved and pretty stuffy 1920s neoclassical building (consider what was happening on the Continent at the time). Here was a world-class piece of architecture, and it was right on your own doorstep.

Upon approaching the new ‘‘visually stunning’’ [sic] version I was struck immediately by how unbalanced the front façade appeared. The new entrance opening punched in the centre of the elevation looks lost and the glazing of the café on the eastern side gives the impression the whole structure might just keel over into the park, or that the left side will collapse, the weight of the concrete boxes above becoming too much to take. The position of the entrance in relation to the new foyer beyond - previously the central courtyard - is slightly odd, requiring one to veer to the right in order to avoid walking into a wall instead of the foyer. The café, off to the left, feels claustrophobic and relies heavily upon artificial lighting due to the low ceiling and its location on the north side of the building. Ironically, it was this same claustrophobia in the old entrance foyer that made the Machine Hall such a delight to walk into, making its scale even more impressive.
Previously, the Machine Hall acted like an introduction of what was to come, providing the visitor with views of other levels and begging the question of how to reach these vantage points. It wouldn’t be until later stages of the journey, when walking out onto the different platforms, that the Hall could be looked upon from a whole new perspective, at the same time enabling you to orientate yourself within the building – but not completely, which for me was such a major part of the building’s charm. Not quite knowing exactly where you were within the structure meant the building retained an element of surprise that never seemed to wane, despite numerous visits.

The new foyer feels somewhat over scaled and is poorly handled. The huge blank walls make the space seem larger than it is and along with the finishes creates a cold, clinical appearance. As in the café, there is too much reliance on artificial lighting, the result of the new roof. To the rear of the foyer there is a new circulation system (core doesn’t seem the appropriate word, it would suggest something that is organised and considered), which serves both the old building and the extension. Instead of using this I opted for my preferred route through the building and headed left, across the afore mentioned water feature (via an incredibly tiresome access ramp) and into what was once the Machine Hall, now housing a large exhibition ‘stand’ of sorts boasting rather dubious displays that bear no meaningful relation to one another. This proved difficult. The once seamless journey felt laboured. Previously clearly defined spaces have been subdivided and cluttered with rather gauchely handled exhibits.

One of the criticisms of the old building was that it was hard to navigate and to be fair the new circulation system has made the building a lot more open. However this creates confusion to the visitor and is to the detriment of the overall experience. There was no need to ‘navigate’ the old building, the architect - one Francis Pym - had already worked that out, leading you from one space to another on a route through the building and leaving you back in the entrance foyer where you’d started any number of hours earlier. All that was required of the visitor was to look at the exhibits and walk from one room to the next. With the new system there was more than one occasion when I found myself wandering into an exhibition I had already seen, and on others, I missed rooms out entirely. This is something that would not have happened previously. The elements of surprise and mystery referred to earlier have also been lost, so much of the building now on view upon entering the foyer - I thought of Mussolini’s escapades on the Via della Conciliazione.

The gallery spaces at the top of the building appear to be the least interfered with, and there are opportunities to venture onto the balconies overlooking the foyer. It’s just a shame that there’s not much to see. Looking down, the glass and steel balustrades of the walkways give the impression of being in an airport rather than a museum and are at odds with the weight, presence and solidity of the extension, and indeed the whole building in its previous incarnation. The treatment of the balconies too detracts from the intended character of the place, now covered in white render where they were once exposed cast concrete, the continuum between exterior and interior disrupted. It was on the upper levels where I also noticed that windows had been given PVC window boards.

The result of the various interventions is the total loss off spatial hierarchy and flow that was integral to how the building functioned as a museum. There is a feeling that the exhibition spaces have been pushed outward to make way for the central foyer, robbing individual spaces of their relationship with one another and of each to the whole. The ‘opening up’ has made the whole museum feel a lot smaller than it did previously, another part of the genius of the design that is only becoming clear to me now – just how well Pym had utilised what is in fact not that much space in such a way as to make the building seem enormous. There was a Tardis-like quality to the place. Now interior spaces no longer relate to the exterior form and there are a number of areas where the plan feels unresolved, a failed attempt perhaps, at making little nooks and crannies to keep the younger visitor excited and interested. Crucially though, I would question whether the issues of disabled access have been successfully resolved.

Upon leaving the building it was overcast and raining quite heavily, summing up my experience really. But I was unable to take cover under the beautiful sailing concrete canopy that marked the original entrance – a meaningful gesture from the architect considering our wet climate – as it has been rendered completely useless. It now houses part of the café behind a glazed wall, more than robbing the feature of its significance and potency.

Public reaction to the building however has generally been positive; although it wouldn’t make sense to publish any negative press would it? The only gripe people have had was the fact that the museum was closed the Monday of the autumn mid-term break. At the very least it might have been expected that the museum’s board of trustees and the curators would have been aware of the building’s importance, let alone the planners, (as if). The controversy surrounding the refurbishment never really seemed to go beyond architectural circles. In another country, say Germany or the Netherlands for instance, this would have been considered a news worthy item, but here BBC Newsline seem more concerned about reports letting viewers know the shops in Ballycastle will now be open on Wednesday afternoons when they were traditionally closed, and UTV even went as far as awarding the architects responsible their ‘Architect of the Year’ award. They did also win BD’s Carbuncle of the Year award for Liverpool Ferry Terminal, although this is hardly compensation for the act of thoughtless vandalism inflicted on the Museum.

Again Northern Ireland has shown itself to be in the dark ages when it comes to dealing with architectural matters, the scandal over the Giant’s Causeway competition springing to mind. Belfast has been robbed of arguably its one true Modernist gem… and now I have to think of a new favourite building.

Jordan McIlroy - Graduated from the UU masters program 2yrs ago
- written Nov '09

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Review: ‘The Secret Laboratory’ - an exhibition at PLACE.

2010-10-28T18:18:00.007+01:00

Since its foundation, ‘PLACE’ - our little architecture centre - has served as an important space of engagement between our architectural identity and the wider community from which it emerges. Despite actively communicating through a constant and wide ranging schedule of events and exhibitions, sometimes limitations of space and resources can hinder the centre’s potential. Recently however, passing through Fountain Street’s increasingly vibrant (daytime) collage of cafe – bar – barber – library – restaurant – grocer – baker – busker - skater, we catch a glimpse of something different beyond the narrow frontage of Number 40.

An exhibition of architects’ sketchbooks entitled, ‘The Secret Laboratory’, has managed to strike a resonance with the discreet, windowless and confined space. Curated by Paul Clarke, the intervention has cleverly modified the character and ambiance of PLACE, while lending the space an intriguing presence within the bustle of its surrounding streetscape.

A heavyweight line-up includes local heroes, emerging talents, and the internationally renowned. As a private and very personal document, their sketchbooks usually remain hidden at the owner’s discretion. The idea of examining the raw architectural process of our most gifted architects appeals to the voyeur in all of us, and this theme of curiosity is extended to the design of the exhibition itself.

Each contributing architect has been given one beautifully crafted timber case in which to present their chosen work. Toying with our temptation to leaf through the pages, the cases are loosely sealed with a weighty slab of polished perspex that rests freely on top. The work is illuminated from within its case; a gentle, ochre glow, just bright enough to reveal the content. The effect is more like a museum – antiquated documents, precious scripts.

A bold scribble across one of Tom De Paor’s pages declares, ‘Architecture is negotiation (developed) between inside and outside.’ As an architectural intervention in the context of the street, a glimpse of a glowing, snaking object within the depths of the gloomy interior, manages to catch the attention due to its contrast with the loudness of neighbouring shop fronts. Once inside, the confines of the small space are overcome, as the intricacy and depth of the content mean each finely crafted case can be dwelled upon and explored, defying its A1 scale to acquire the significance of a room-full of exhibits. The space has probably never been used in a more effective way.

The exhibition begins and ends with a splash of colour. The viewer’s attention is ensured by the day-glo highlighter used to develop the immediately recognisable sectional drama of Graftons’ Luigi Bocconi University, while the clarity and richness of Sheila O’Donnell’s watercolours complete the journey. The collection of drawings and text in between is wonderfully diverse, ranging from skilful efficiency and control to almost chaotic intensity, from the abstract to the painstakingly detailed.

De Paor’s display documents his design process for a cinema in Galway, and refers to his rigorous consideration of the cinematic experience, while suggesting the relationships between film and architecture: His open sketchbooks are arranged to resemble a film strip, each page treated as a ‘still’ from the narrative of his design. Other highlights include Paul Clarke’s travel journal, within which a Tokyo streetscape is vividly evoked in text and collage, while, in stark contrast, a rural scene from Iona is traced through a beautifully restrained line drawing, depicting only the scene’s manmade elements. Nature is left to the imagination - as white paper around stone walls, electric wires, cottages, boats, sheep.

The exhibition celebrates the symbolic tool of the architect with great success, and in doing so illustrates the unique value of the profession itself, which currently and locally seems to be devalued and misunderstood.

Amid the drawings, critic Shane O’Toole presents a selection of his interview notes, one of which quotes John Tuomey describing the materialisation of a project, cast in concrete ‘like a thought embodied.’ Although a workaday object that usually lies at the bottom of a bag or is thrown on cluttered desk, ‘The Secret Laboratory’ presents the sketchbook as a unique collection of embodied thoughts: Each case is a window into the psyche of its architect, and the room is full of clues to the mysteries of the architectural process.

Fearghal Murray - written April '10

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The Trace of the Fugitive Gods

2010-10-28T16:18:00.007+01:00

I am not a spiritual person. I do not believe in a higher power or an afterlife. I do not believe that bad deeds always get punished or that good deeds always get rewarded. I do not believe in fate or his grand design.

I understand the world as a sequence of meaningless events, most without consequence. Consequences are accidental. They are not unintentional as this implies a possibility of intent. I believe in six and a half billion people acting and reacting to the world on a largely instinctual level.

Amid this mire of meaningless causes and pointless effects patterns can often be discerned, like seeing a man on the moon or faces in the TV static. I believe it is important to search for these patterns in life, notice them when they happen.

Take pride in coincidence. Celebrate birthdays and anniversaries, observe when dates and numbers coincide and read the subtle poetry life has to offer, but remember that the world is indifferently random. Any poetry you find is of your own making. You are the poet, you are the creator, you deserve the credit.

‘…poetically man dwells…’ asserts Martin Heidegger in his 1951 lecture of the same name. Poetry, I believe, lies at the heart of all human endeavour that attempts to bring order to the world. Poetry is found wherever standardized elements, wielded as totemic signs, are arranged in such a way as to communicate a distinct individuality, a Way-Of-Being far removed from our own yet made explicit through a syntactic structure of objects.

Heidegger describes the contemporary state of mind as being amid a destitute night, lost in the abyss. The gods no longer interfere with the lives of man and are largely blind to our pain and torment. The gods are fugitive. ‘To be a poet in a destitute time,’ Heidegger states, ‘means to attend, singing, to the trace of the fugitive gods.’ It is a poet’s charge to locate the divine amid the profane, to wrest beauty and order from the chaos.

Poetry is not limited to those who deem themselves poets. Anywhere man dwells on earth, beneath the sky and in conjunction with nature (in Heidegger’s classic fourfold) poetry is achieved.

Poetry transcends logic and instinct, yet derives from them both.

Andrew Molloy - 6th Year Architecture Student

All quotes taken from 'Poetry, Language, Thought' by Martin Heidegger (1971)
For more from Heidegger on Poetry and thinking see 'The Thinker As Poet,' a beautiful blend of poetry and philosophy.

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Dr William Thompson - A New Whole

2010-10-28T16:13:00.007+01:00

Dr Bill Thompson helped to found the Undergraduate Architecture course at the University of Ulster and played a large part in it's evolution and progression into a masters course. His Cultural Context classes quickly became notorious for their ability to beguile while simultaneously pickling heads across the school. He also played a large part in encouraging us to establish this newsletter, and many of the things discussed within it's pages derive from the agenda laid down by the Cultural Context module. Bill retired last year and kindly wrote the following piece as a eulogy to his decade spent at the UU.

I have been invited to write a short comment on this architectural course of ours at the time of my leaving it because my age precludes my continuation in the educational system. Old farts have to make way for fresh young things with, hopefully, more years in them than I probably have in me.

Setting aside all the banal and trite though true comments concerning the pleasure of working with colleagues it has been my privilege, as it turns out, to have learnt from those I am supposed to have taught.

I have learnt that the social conditions people find themselves in as a result of the process of bringing objects into being, commencing with simple media and moving on to complex media skills as we find around us today now, remind us that we always have the ability to turn our back on the systems we make using specific objects although we are then forced to make different ones. On this basis, there is some reason to suggest that, hypothetically, all individuals could revert to anarchism and exist autonomously acting only as a result of their own cognitive and organisational abilities were it not for the fact that what has already been constructed cannot be easily ignored but must be de-constructed in the space of appearance which in the case of certain media such as building is next to impossible.

The centripetal force is the social and cultural, in other words the increasing forms of order required in the creation of any system contributes to the difficulty of escaping from that system that once created involves so much resilience in overcoming our familiarity with it if we are to make the objects that are required for that purpose out of the phenomena that we actually experience.

Dr William Thompson - former UU lecturer in architectural theory

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Editorial (2010 Issue)

2010-10-28T15:50:00.015+01:00

After a lengthy sabbatical, Architek10 is retuning with a long overdue newsletter for the new academic year. A lot has changed in Architecture since the last newsletter, largely due to our current age of austerity, where my friends and peers who left university last year and now spending their days working at the post office, and the lucky ones, cobbling. The articles included in this newsletter give a little insight into the past year, and will hopefully spark a little debate to the future.

In March, I represented Architek10 at the ‘Belfast – City of Quarters’ conference which took place in various venues within the city. The topic for my brief interlude was our view of Belfast in 2030. It some ways, this is a very difficult avenue to present, without churning out an experimental Archigram view of the city or falling back on old faithful, sustainability. “What will Belfast be like? It will be Green”. Yawn!

I’ve always been an advocate of learning from the past; from our mistakes. Unless we look at the mistakes we are making now, how can we ever change things for the better? It’s not always about forming new ideas; it’s about amending old ones. Refining the things that have been laid out for us. Fixing and changing Belfast one step at a time. I think it was Confucius who once said “A journey of a thousand miles begins with wondering how Belfast will look in 2030”.

Architecture has links with a number or arts and disciplines. It is the aim of Architek10 to include as many of these in our newsletters in the future. For now, please enjoy our 10 new articles and please join or start a discussion. Without discussion (and thumbs) we are but no better than the Belgians.

Roy Fitzpatrick - 6th year MArch student

Index
- - hello - Steven Spier
- - the secret laboratory - exhibition review
- - a visit from mr libeskind
- - the elephant in opmeer
- - the trace of the fugitive gods
- - learning like the french
- - architectural education and the fee increases
- - the grand tour (five architects and 'de' volvo)
- - a day at the museum
- - the thesis and the artifact
- - goodbye - Bill Thompson

architecture and music

2009-10-21T18:04:00.009+01:00

"A composer's music should express the country of his birth, his love affairs, his religion, the books which have influenced him, the pictures he loves. It should be the sum total of a composers experience."

Sergei Rachmaninoff

I believe this statement to be true when attempting to fully understand both Architecture and Music. The concept holds true for Composers and Architects alike. One thing I must point out though is that my application of this statement holds a different emphasis on ‘should’ than Rachmaninoff had intended. For Rachmaninoff, the ‘should’ is an essential ingredient to the music. If a composer’s context is not discernable from the music then the composer is not remaining true to himself or his art. For me the ‘should’ is an unavoidable by product. Context i.e. our experience, is who we are.

I believe there is one significant connection that aids in the understanding and appreciation of both Architecture and Music alike and this link is simply Context. Like Architecture, the context of music must be understood when listening to give a more detailed comprehension of the art. This definition of context remains the same for Architecture and Music. Context in Architecture does not solely derive from the area in which it is situated although this is clearly an aspect of it. It also refers to the period in which it was designed, the aspect of the brief that made it unique, the peers and influences the architect was dealing with, the social movements and ideologies of the area in which the architecture was created and the wider context. All these things are the same with Music. To really feel music you must understand its context. When was it composed? What where the technological capabilities of the time? What social movements where happening? Was the music a result of a particular movement or did it even initiate one? Did the composer’s nationality, race, ideology or religious beliefs influence their composition? All of these things help formulate a greater understanding for the music we listen to. On the flip side, we also need to understand that some music is just diabolical and no level of appreciation for its context can change that fact.

Roy Fitzpatrick - 6th year MArch student

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guerilla alleyway intervention

2009-10-21T16:31:00.012+01:00

The word ‘student’ has become a four-letter word in Belfast’s Holy Lands. The events of St Patrick’s Day three months ago served to underline years of strife between the student population and local residents of the South Belfast neighbourhood. A new creative collective based in Belfast calling themselves Guerilla Architecture decided to try and turn the tide of local opinion in student’s favour.

Born out of an RSUA organised student forum held at PLACE, the idea was not established as a direct response to St Patrick’s day, but rather sought to re-evaluate the vernacular Belfast terrace, paying particular attention to what the society’s members regarded as it’s biggest design flaw, the rear alleyway. This leftover, utilitarian space has become synonymous with anti-social behaviour, including drug-use and fly tipping, and is often used by burglars to gain discrete entry into properties.

After talking with the local residents of University and College Park Avenue the participants came to the conclusion that this was mainly due to the lack of surveillance. One local resident recalled the days when, instead of being confined by nine-foot high walls, private yards were enclosed with two-foot fences over which gossip and chat were exchanged, intended to simply demarcate ownership rather than create an aggressive fortification.

This vision of the alleyways’ halcyon days inspired the society to attempt to recapture this atmosphere, and use it in an attempt to address the anti-social behaviour that takes place in such spaces. Hugh Magee, one of the event’s organisers remarked “No space is provided for interacting with your neighbours any more while the alleyway would be perfect for this. If we can make landlords and residents rethink this space a greater sense of community and security could be created.” Time and budget restraints made any permanent intervention unrealistic, so the group decided upon attempting to transform the existing alley space into a social area, creating a positive interface between the Holy Land’s permanent and temporary denizens.

This was the thinking that led to the Guerillas invading one of these alley spaces on the 5th of June. A series of simple plywood partitions created a sense of place along the linear spine of the alley. A basic roof structure combined with overhanging foliage proved effective in creating the perception of an urban garden. And most importantly a bottle of beer, free food and a warm greeting created a welcoming atmosphere for anyone who turned up.

Despite initial fears that the event would be treated with suspicion and apathy in the wake of St Patrick’s Day, the intervention was greeted with overwhelming positivity from all who attended. Over sixty people turned up over the three hours the intervention was in place, and even the PSNI made an appearance condoning the positive action within the area. Local resident and psychology lecturer at the University of Ulster Professor Peter Weinreich gave his thoughts on the intervention, saying “the evening transformation of part of this space by this group of students was a lively encouraging event, successfully bringing together students and local long-term residents for lively chat. Music, food and beverage outside in the open contributed to a pleasurable occasion.”

The group made the following video of the intervention which is currently showing at weePLACE until the 31st October.

[video created by Daniel Bell]

Andrew Molloy - 6th year MArch student

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architecture and the recession - an interview with ciaran mackel - part one

2009-10-21T14:17:00.002+01:00

RF - Firstly we’d like if you could tell us what is was like to start your new practice just as the recession started.

CM – Right, you mean all the advice I got saying don’t do it? (Laughs), between my accountant, various bank mangers and friends asking me “Are ya mad in the head?”. Generally I’m not really a very cautious person. I tend to take risks in the hope that something good will come from it. Like many architects I tend to look for opportunity in places rather than look at the half empty side i.e. I felt the time had come and I had enough of a range of contacts and plenty of work to do it. The main problem, as with any business, was cash flow. It’s a real problem and, I haven’t done it here but I know people who have had to do it, but it’s difficult to resist from knocking people into a three and four day week or potentially making pay cuts, a concept that would only work if everyone took a pay cut, directors and all, in the hope that the money will eventually be recouped and returned to the business getting people back to where they where. There are too many situations where people are taking pay cuts but the mangers aren’t. The staff are suffering and I think that it’s an unacceptable problem that I wouldn’t want to happen here at ARD.

RF – You mentioned that you feel you took a risk with starting your new practice. Do you feel that the risk has begun to pay off even though you started your new practice at such a difficult time?

CM – Em, well people have asked me why I didn’t just apply to the college for a full time post and, it’s easier said than done because it just doesn’t work like that. I feel confident though that if the work situation was to dry up completely I’d still find a mechanism to keep the practice running. I read a piece in the Architectural Record about nine months ago telling Architects in practice to watch your overheads, manage your costs, promote your work and, actually, target your competitors weakest clients. In a downturn it’s easy for a practice to slip in regards to care and attention for clients who have maybe cut back on work. Architectural Record advised practices to target those clients, not by saying “leave that guy” but by talking to them and saying “this is my practice, this is what we do”, and eventually when this guys business picks up they’ll remember the neglect shown by the other practice and the eagerness of you. Spread your contacts and broaden your network and from that feedback will come through.
It’s hard to find thinking time or reflecting time as you don’t have enough of it so that’s what I’ve been trying to do.

RF – That’s something we want to touch on i.e. an Architect getting time to think, but before that we where wondering, in regards to the recession topic, how many recessions have you worked through and how to you perceive this one to be different from the rest?

CM – It’s funny you should ask that, did you go to the talk organised by PLACE in the Black Box about the recession?

RF- Yes, about a month ago?

CM – Yeah, that’s right. I remember talking to you guys there. After it everyone was saying “do remember the last one… 79, 81, 96 blah blah blah”, and I was thinking, “not really”. I know I should remember. I wasn’t that spaced out (laughs). I suppose in a way I didn’t actually remember it. Thinking back I remember practices I was in dropping staff from around seventeen to twelve but I didn’t realise it was a result of recession. I was just busy working. It wasn’t as obvious in some ways and not as wide spread. In the past there was always work in Germany, London etc but now, there’s no work there either and I guess that’s probably the big difference. Although, the thing that has made this so different is now the banks are struggling. You have to pay staff. The last wage to come out I always your own, and that can be very worrying if there is no money coming in, from fees of from loans / overdrafts. That’s what happens when you start up a business and you have to face up with it.

RF – So, since you just started this practice has the recession encouraged or even forced you to change your approach to Architecture?

CM – No, not really. I’ve worked with a successful developer in the past who has a strong belief on a particular quality his housing schemes should have. He claims he wants his schemes to be Georgian, without fully understanding what Georgian really is. Then you question what Georgian is, if it is the proportions, is it what he really wants and he’ll say yes, but only if it’s a 2.8m high ceiling. Then obviously it’s not Georgian. So now instead of writing a letter telling this guy ‘his heads up his arse’ I’ll let martin read the letters and let it rest for a day or two and try and give this guy a way back in.

I suppose the only other way that I’ve changed the way I practice is in regards to money. I’ve practiced for 30 years but never dealt with money. In the past the person in the practice dealing with money wasn’t me, so in that sense I’d have been able to maintain a working relationship with the client without having to worry about money. Now, when you are the one dealing with the money, and the financial institutions are beginning to hold back on paying out to people, then everyone gets frustrated and the conversation only becomes about money. That can disrupt the design relationship and that’s not good for practice. So now I restructure the practice to try and avoid situations like that.
I worked for a guy in the past who was very client orientated. When he told a client a fee, even if he went over, he still stuck to that fee. Now, in my previous practice and in practices I’ve worked in in the past, if the job goes over we’d return to the client and say, “yeah, I told ya £12000 but now it’s gonna be £15000”. A lot of clients don't have that money lying around. With my current practice, I just take it on the chin. If you run over, that has to be absorbed in the practice.

I take the view that around 15-20% of my time should be on non-chargeable work. There are people who say that a practice principle should never be 100% chargeable because of the amount of admin and meetings etc. that they take part in. If you are able to charge 40% of your time as a principle you’re doing well. That’s different from what I’m talking about though. My belief is that there is a responsibility, maybe from a sense of citizenship, to spend roughly a day or a day and a half on projects that do not directly earn me money. They are about giving time, potentially to voluntary things. I do a number of things like, I chair a group in the Falls Road, do some work with PLACE and with the RSUA, and that time takes up around 10-12hours a week, above my standard 35. I feel that’s reasonable and it should be a practices cost anyway. I go potentially one step further and suggest that a practice should always donate and take part in work like that, from a social point of view, in order to gave professional advice to groups that cant afford it. This concept should be adapted by all professionals, to give time to those groups who don’t have the skills or money to complete such tasks.

*****************

Roy Fitzpatrick - 6th year MArch student

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PLACE

2009-10-21T14:16:00.004+01:00

PLACE is five years established this month. Although our role to date has been to promote exhibitions, talks, debates and publications, and while it is important that that work continues we will explore opportunities where PLACE can be a catalyst for real change. Some scenarios where this may occur include the transient temporary location of PLACE activities, exhibitions and events in underused parts of Belfast, this could include vacant city centre shop units, beneath flyovers, edges & interfaces.

PLACE will shortly establish model making workshops. These will be CPD accredited for practicing built environment professionals. They may also be of interest to students looking to develop techniques. These may include digital modelling in due course. Compilation of an audio tour of belfast is already currently in progress. We can develop this in a number of directions.

PLACE is to establish a Sunday Night Film Club. It will promote understanding, debate and awareness of landscape, townscape, architecture, urbanism, public realm, planning, infrastructure, participation and the broad range of built environment issues. Venue : PLACE (subject to numbers). Suggested Films include: Metropolis, Sketches of Frank Gehry, Maya Lin - A Strong Clear Vision, My Architect: A Son's Journey, Belly of an Architect, Brazil, Blade Runner, The Fountainhead etc.

Meanwhile PLACE is seeking submissions for exhibitions in the WeePLACE Gallery. These have included photographs, video, small installations and drawings in the past. All submissions welcome and duration of exhibitions can be tailored to accommodate the volume and quality of proposals. Please email any suggestions in the first instance to info@place.uk.net.

Michael Hegarty- PLACE director

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the secret laboratory - the paul clarke prize for best sketchbook

2009-10-21T14:15:00.004+01:00

[click to enlarge]

As a child I was always interested in drawing. I used to keep all kinds of notebooks that I drew in and stuck pictures in cut from magazines. When I started architecture school there was little in the way of computers (not that long ago!) and everything was hand drawn. The sketches, the carefully drawn lines, the complex projections and the incredible renderings we all did, told a story of the hand and eye which was part of the pleasure –and at times pain- of training to becoming an architect.

I was lucky enough to gain travelling scholarships abroad in which the sketchbook became your constant companion. Before setting out on one of these I arranged to view the sketchbooks of Charles Rennie Mackintosh held in the Hunterian Gallery at the University of Glasgow. This was something of a revelation for me and the sketchbooks had a profound effect. What Macintosh observed found its way directly into his remarkable buildings and designs. The range of his visual ‘net’ moved from a door lock, to a flower, to the most intricate of vernacular building studies. Often he would layer these drawings over one another showing shifts in perception, scale and patterns of changing contours.

I like many architects have kept all kinds of sketchbooks over the years and I have been interested in what people observe and record in their notebooks and sketches. It seemed right to me that if I was to give a prize in our new school of architecture and design, that that prize should be for the best sketchbook.

I confess amidst the busy time of the end of the year, with all the exams and exhibitions, the time I take to go round and view the sketchbooks in the portfolios is one of real pleasure. It is inspiring to see the workings of design thinking laid out. But still sketchbooks need to be valued more in our digital age. There is a need for things to be seen and thought in a reflective way, that is uniquely possible in the creative space of the sketchbook, as well as the laptop.

Paul Clarke- lecturer in architecture - University of Ulster

Past Winners of the Paul Clarke prize for the Best Sketchbook

2007 Bronagh Gordon

2008 Maeve Leanord

2009 Daniel Magowan

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the art of mortality - an introduction to wabi sabi

2009-10-21T14:13:00.008+01:00

“Places of wabi-sabi are small, secluded, and private environments that enhance one’s capacity for metaphysical musings” - Leonard Koren

Wabi-Sabi is a philosophy, it is a way of life. Since it is a Japanese term, many readers will not have come across it before, however I believe that parts of it can be found in everyday life. It can be applied to all aspects of life, however, it is rarely applied and created. In truth it happens naturally, a process that happens over time and is unique. Wabi-Sabi is a very personal philosophy, treating life with no rock unturned. Yet it is also a style of aesthetics, the beauty in imperfection. It is the fine line separating beauty from shabbiness. The enhancement of the ravages of time, being at the threshold of demise. Perhaps this is just another definition of rustic, yet it has been given more reverence.

To try and define Wabi-Sabi is an almost pointless exercise. It is associated with Zen Buddhism, exemplifying many of its core philosophical tenets. The problem with it therefore is like most things Japanese, to leave the unexplainable unexplained. Zen teachings can only be taught from mind to mind, or discussed in the most poetic of manners. Even the majority of articles and books written on the subject are by gaijin (foreigners, non-Japanese). Many Japanese would think that Wabi-Sabi is too complex a topic to discuss, due to it having very broad meanings.

It is the expression of beauty that lies between the life and mortality of ourselves and the objects around us. The old, beaten and nicked piece of wood is enjoyed more than the slick, uniform, new piece of steel cladding. The piece of wood shows its age. It gives the viewer an idea of its place and time. Wabi-Sabi has the same amount of reverence that would be given to the Greek Ideals of beauty and perfection. It is an anti-aesthetic. In its creation it was a reaction against the over furnished Chinese style that was occupying 16th Century Japan. In a way, it has quite a lot of similarities to the “Modernist” movement which was a reaction to 19th Century classicism. Both Wabi-Sabi and “Modernism” are devoid of any decoration that is not structural. They deal with ideals of beauty, one polished and smooth, the other earthy and varied. A good example of an object with Wabi-Sabi would be a simple bamboo vase and a flower. The bamboo being hollow has inherent properties of containing. It’s exterior would show the life that the plant had. The implementation of the flower would show signs of life and eventually die away. These two objects combined are intrinsically Wabi-Sabi. On musing over the two objects, they would come to relate to our very own mortality. The bamboo vase would also be unique in the way that it would grow due to the sun orientation. The vase would have more life, character and warmth than a mass produced vase.

As contemporary architecture seems to deal heavily in minimalist spaces, they can appear clinical and sterile. Perhaps it may just be me, but it has been a while since I was in a space within a piece of contemporary architecture, and felt moved by it. Too many buildings in my opinion are becoming that of non-space and as such I find it hard to sit and contemplate in these spaces. Is Wabi-Sabi something we should incorporate in our architectural design?

Anthony Stafford - 3rd year student

Further reading -
- Wabi-Sabi for Artists, Designers, Poets & Philosophers by Leonard Koren, 1994, Stone Bridge Press, Berkeley CA
- Wabi Sabi the Japanese art of impermanence by Andrew Juniper, 2003, Tuttle Publishing, North Clarendon, Vermont
- Marcel Theroux made a BBC4 documentary entitled 'In Search of Wabi-Sabi.' You can find it here.

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DDIY in barcelona

2009-10-21T14:12:00.005+01:00

Conviction and anticipation supplanted by anxiety, lethargy, and looking back, probably a touch of depression. All largely due to eight flights of stairs. The most constricted and precipitous stairs that you can envisage. The stairs to Hades, the Seventh Circle of Hell, and whatever place you regard as your personal hell rolled into one. Except the hellish direction of these stairs was up.

The idea was simple; take a tiny run down apartment and rejuvenate it. Reconfigure it to give more space for living, remove the disproportionately large bedroom, and ‘do it up a bit’. Remove a wall here, add a partition there. Strip the walls, fire in a new bathroom and kitchen. Paint it. Move in. Three months tops, probably less, and I’d have a place to live. In the sun, in the city, fifty metres from the beach.

I’ve always spent my time building things; now I was training to be an architect. What better way to test out my ideas than to build for myself, to take on a [very] small project and see what transpires. Even better if it means I have an excuse to live in Barcelona for a year or so.

It really was extremely small; thirty two square metres, subdivided into 2 bedrooms, a living room, a bathroom, and a glorified cupboard, masquerading as a kitchen. One of the bedrooms was bigger than the living room, and the place just felt bad. It wasn’t falling down, but it obviously had received little attention since it was built. About 1930, if the deeds are anything to go by. So why did it turn into such a ruinous escapade?

Three reasons really. Firstly, you never know what you will find when you take paper or plaster off a wall. Secondly, what you do find means carrying a lot of stuff down and then a lot of stuff back up the aforementioned stairs. Finally, once you get to a certain point, there’s no turning back, and things may as well be done right.

Re-wiring was added to the plan. Some plumbing. Stripping back most of the walls. Then a new ceiling because it seems the entire thing is supported off the plaster on the walls and three particularly rusted nails. Replaster. More, more, more, more, more.

And the killer really was the stairs. Nearly everything carried either in or out via a sixty degree tunnel of pain. It adds up, takes its toll. But the strangest thing is I’d recommend it. Not the stair torture per se, but the process. Maybe not entirely alone if you can help it, but first hand experience of something like that teaches you so much. About the realities of building, about ideas of architecture, about yourself.

I’d heard of the concept of ‘under promise, over deliver’ before, but didn’t realise you could apply it to the duologue in your own head. The whole thing was a trip through the entire spectra of emotion, with despair being an unexpected detour. A process we’re all familiar with only magnified; and that’s part of the reason I’d recommend it. Because after all the pain, there was satisfaction. Immense satisfaction. Joy even. And a cool place to live for a while.

Sean Finan - 5th year MArch student

[image of Barcelona apartment taken by Roy Fitzpatrick]

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what is the ideal home?

2009-10-21T14:11:00.008+01:00

[click to enlarge]

This question got me thinking about what ‘ideal’ really is. Is it something that society drives us to achieve or is it just searching for natural commodities like shelter, warmth and food?

If you ask someone in the west what their ‘ideal home’ is they may tell you “A villa in the south of France with a place to moor the yacht and a private pool” whereas if you ask Johnston Chirwa (picture of home above) as I did in central Malawi, he believes he has the ideal home and more.

The entire home is roughly 4m x2m and is situated about 20m off a dirt road. It was originally constructed as a store to house building materials and tools, he sees himself as fortunate because his home is constructed with clay bricks instead of hand packed mud, and he has a corrugated aluminium roof rather than the usual grass. There is not much internal space for accommodation just a bed and a place on the ground to sit and eat, and all storage is on the walls. Most of his household activities occur outside the four walls. Cooking happens just outside his front door over an open fire, he is in close proximity to a water source and has his own lot to grow vegetables. Most importantly, he is happy.

We strive to achieve what we see in the glossy magazines, clinical rooms with the token book on the coffee table, is this because society has said this is how we should live? Is it really what we need?

Peter McNie - 6th year MArch student

[image of Johnston Chirwa's home, Malawi taken by Peter McNie]

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forum for alternative belfast - a student's perspective

2009-10-21T14:08:00.015+01:00

For years now we as students have walked through South Belfast and into the city centre without fully appreciating the ease of our journey. In comparison with North, East and West Belfast the car has impacted least on the pedestrians in this area, particularly their journey toward the city centre.

During the Forum for Alternative Belfast Summer School we have experienced the negative impact of Belfast’s road infrastructure on its city centre development and in particular how it has disconnected the city centre from surrounding areas most notably North and West Belfast. The pedestrian has now ceased to walk these routes with overemphasised road widths, a lack of development on street edges and a reluctance to incorporate active ground floor space, culminating in the creation of an unsecure environment for the pedestrian.

With the aim for the week being to ‘fill up’ Belfast participants of the summer school were divided up into five groups; North, South, East, West and the Shankill. With each group responsible for identifying vacant sites within their area and applying one of a predetermined range of densities we would then be able to calculate the number of people who could live within walking distance of the city centre. The major point of interest within South Belfast, the group within which I was involved, was the high percentage of single level car parks and the potential development sites which could be gained should a select number of these be developed into multi storey car parking. We have also seen the negative impact that these car parks have had on the streetscapes within South Belfast particularly Great Victoria Street, Dublin Road and Ormeau Avenue. Just recently we have seen the creation of another car park on the Dublin road. Created through the demolition of existing urban fabric it has created yet another gap in the already highly perforated streetscapes of the city. A sign of promise within South Belfast was the pedestrians uninterrupted journey into the city centre however it appears we will have to fight to retain such a connection as a proposal is in place to complete the ‘Inner Box’ road, with the creation of the Bankmore link which would severe the city centres only connection with its surrounding neighbourhoods.

Continual discussion throughout the week about the essential moves required to facilitate a new demand for city living brought many different opinions from many different sectors of society. A desire that city centre living would be in high demand by all demographics within a few years is what we all hope for however I feel even demand for this by one or two sectors of society within approximately ten years would be significant progress. With the proposed development of the University of Ulster on York Street I believe there is a great opportunity for students to become the catalyst and demand a new type of city centre living. Out of this may a demand for city living by newly graduated students and as such over time these young professionals may feel a good environment exists to start a family.

[images courtesy of Mark Hackett]

Enda Clarke - 6th year MArch student

25th September, Cathedral Quarter Culture Night. I strolled past St Anne's Cathedral, the sound of samba-reggae drifted across from Writer's Square. A fifteen foot man tipped his top hat to me and offered me free culture. I took him up on the offer and crossed into the square. After enjoying the music for a while I walked out onto North Street, turned right at the Ant Circus and found myself standing in front of the Tivoli barber shop situated in the centre of an otherwise abandoned Victorian edifice. After taking a free ice-cream from the stall outside I entered the darkened barber shop. The jingle of the bell above the doorway, the scent of old varnished wood and Brylcream, the soft creak of the black leather chairs.

I wasn't the only person there that night, the shop floor was standing room only. Silence fell as the five man 'quartet' took to the stage. Ken Sterrett cleared his throat and spoke...

Andrew Molloy - 6th year MArch student

[leaflet produced by FAB, photograph of model taken by Andrew Molloy]

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inaugural lecture

2009-10-21T14:07:00.007+01:00

Early evening at the end of April saw the opening of the University of Ulster’s architectural society, Architek10. Our new society opened with a lecture from BD Young Architects of the Year 2008, Hackett Hall McKnight. As architects and custodians of the city, HHMcK take pride in Belfast whilst engaging with the many positive elements in their city. Clarity, robustness and truthfulness of structure as well as a passion for the city as a subject, typifies this young offices architecture. The practice performs various exercises in mapping the city and observing cultural and societal shifts, all of which the practice use as a basis for their architectural responses. With their principle architects having worked in practices in Dublin, Berlin and London, HHMcK brought to light interesting observations on the city.

An inspiring lecture, it was warmly received by the attending students and staff alike. Having opened the lecture with their first major commission, the Museum Arts Centre (the MAC) other mentioned works included the Fishbone project, St Anne’s Spire competition entry, one off private residential schemes such as Dowling House and Oakland Avenue, not to mention the scheme that launched the practice, the Lyric Theatre competition entry.

Anchoring the corner of St Anne’s Square, the MAC is the practices first large commission. With a comprehensive understanding of history, place and nostalgia, the MAC is a distinctly appropriate response to the brief and will become a new addition to the Merchant quarter as well as a contemporary addition to the city skyline. Along with galleries, performance, dance and rehearsal spaces, the public spaces actively work with the spatial characteristics of the merchant city. A vibrant hub in the city, the site will become a landmark to link the proposed relocation of the University of Ulster and Cathedral Quarter. It is anticipated the MAC will become not only a visual landmark but also a cultural landmark for Belfast.

A pavilion in a building, the Fishbone project employs clever spatial planning tactics to create different spaces with varied use and qualities. This scheme is a useful precedent for any student of architecture in economy and use of space.

Awarded joint first place, The Lyric Theatre competition entry sparked the judge’s arousal as it was conceived as a meeting place along the riverfront on the edge of the city, offering up a space for the city.

Posing the notion that the building is a character in the sentence that is the city summarises HHMcK’s impressive yet varied portfolio of work. A portfolio devised by a young practice who have investigated their city in order to understand and respond appropriately yet with zest for cutting edge architectural design.

Fiona Shannon - 6th year MArch student

[image of st anne's spire competition taken from http://www.hhmck.com]

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inaugural newsletter

2009-10-21T13:52:00.009+01:00

Like all products of architecture the magazine you see before you, along with the homogenized group of individuals behind it, is the result of both desire and necessity. On one hand, my colleagues and I have a lot of thoughts on art, architecture, society and the ties that bind them and we wish them to be expressed, challenged and developed in a meaningful way. This is our desire.

On the other hand, a student society at the University of Ulster was established early this year, due largely to pressure from lecturers and staff as opposed to the student body itself. No-one has yet taken ownership of the society. This is an attempt to do so. This is our necessity.

We don’t want to be an affiliate of any existing university, practice or body. We will not be exponents of any particular cause, opinion or agenda. We will broadcast any and all points of view but will remain critical of them all. We are not a soapbox. We wish to be collaborative, discursive, multidisciplinary, procrastinatory and active. We welcome feedback and criticism.

This is the apex of two years of thinking and planning, but please do not let the word ‘apex’ suggest that the process is complete. As Dominic Stevens said ‘Process has no end product but is actually a series of fixed points.’ What you have before you is merely the point we are at, and possibly some allusions as to where we are heading.

Andrew Molloy - 6th year MArch student

Index
- - inaugural lecture
- - forum for alternative belfast - a students perspective
- - what is the ideal home?
- - DDIY in barcelona
- - architecture and music
- - guerilla alleyway intervention
- - the art of mortality - an introduction to wabi sabi
- - the secret laboratory - the paul clarke prize for best sketchbook
- - PLACE
- - architecture and the recession - an interview with ciaran mackel - part one

welcome to the eStudio

2009-10-21T13:31:00.013+01:00

This is the online home of Architek10, the student Architectural Society based at the University of Ulster. While we are based at the UU, we want the eStudio, and with it the society as a whole, to be accessible to everyone interested in art, architecture, society and the ties that bind them. We don’t want to be an affiliate of any existing university, practice or body. We will not be exponents of any particular cause, opinion or agenda. We will broadcast any and all points of view but will remain critical of them all. We are not a soapbox. We wish to be collaborative, discursive, multidisciplinary, procrastinatory and active. We welcome feedback and criticism.

Please read our latest newsletter here.

Please browse through our list of articles and, having read an article, please scroll down to the bottom of the page and either leave a comment of your own or contribute to any discussions already taking place.

If you have any ideas for events, lectures or if you want to write an article, submit a photo, video or anything you think Architek10 and it's members would benefit from, please contact Andrew (molloy-a1@email.ulster.ac.uk) or Roy (fitzpatrick-r4@email.ulster.ac.uk).

Andrew Molloy - 6th year MArch student

[image of Liam McCormick's Church of the Sacred Heart taken by Andrew Molloy]