Daydream / Nightdream, a story ‘Made In Athens’ #4

[Daydream/Nightdream, model and photograph by draftworks*architects]

There is a woodcut of M.C.Escher, called Day and Night [1] where a flock of black birds flying in a day sky coexists in the same picture with a flock of white birds in a night sky. At a zone in the middle of the painting a magic transformation occurs as the black birds change into white birds and the day changes in the night. With his mastery of optical illusions Escher creates a threshold where the exact moment of transformation becomes untraceable. The fourth story of Athens, Northwest Passage, is the story of Leontis, a tribe that have a similar idea about the threshold between reality and imagination, comparing it with the undefined threshold between day and night. Leontis believe that dreams are the catalysts between the two realities. They don’t just speculate that the dreams are some kind of indication of their imagined desires; they actually believe that dreams are true experiences of their desires. In a similar way the city for them consists of two realities that fit into each other. They believe that we actually live in both realities.

In our wooden model we recreate the miniature world of the two coexisting worlds in the form of two typical opposing resident blocks in the city and introduce the threshold between the worlds as an opening and closing of a cupboard. 

Excerpts from the story Daydream / Nightdream, part of the project 'Athens: Northwest Passage', by draftworks* Exhibited at the 13th Venice Biennale, Greek pavilion [curators: Panos Dragonas, Anna Skiada] 

This is how the story starts:

‘There was a time in this city, that, as I was walking ‘many times in the night’ I could listen to people’s breaths through the open windows.  I could listen to their erotic conversations, their whispers, their agonies for insignificant or important concerns. And the more I was getting far from the neighbourhood, the more I was entering into the transparency of their world.  At that time the human presence at the neighbourhoods and the suburbs was omnipotent. As well as the presence of love. A love that was moving in the streets and was transforming the whole city into an erotic workshop’   [1]

Leontis, Day 2, A Dream Within the Dream

[...]

They also believe that dreams should have their proper space in the city. They say that there is a second dream-like city that wakes up within the first one every time they go to sleep. Constructed by the material the desires are made of, Leontis do not just believe in this second city as a fable, they believe in its actual materiality. Having mixed the two cities in their minds sometimes they confuse the threshold between being awake with being asleep and they often can’t even tell the order of things: do they first make things happen and then they dream of them or is it the opposite?

[...]

All these people from the opposite flats may have never met, and may also never meet in their entire life. However, for Leontis, the worst fear is not that, it is not having a dream to share. 

[draftworks*2012. All rights reserved] 

Notes:

[1] M.C. Escher, Day and Night, 1938, Cornelius Van S. Roosevelt Collection

[2] ManosHadzidakis, from an interview to Stathis Tsagarousianos, 1985 

[Daydream/Nightdream, model and photograph by draftworks*architects]

Clair De Lune, A story 'Made In Athens' #3

[Clair de Lune, model and photograph by draftworks*architects] 

The third story of Athens, Northwest Passage is about Hippothontis, a tribe that believes it originates from the night sky. This is why they know everything about the night sky, all the stars and the constellations, with the slightest scientific detail. They however mix scientific knowledge with fables, myths and imagination and they can’t actually distinguish astronomy from astrology, or even sometimes reality from fiction. The most magnificent of Hippothontis inventions is the Planisphere. This is a structure that, like an inversed planetarium on which the night sky is engraved, covers the inner patios of their blocks. The Hippothontis people orientate their daily life according to this structure. Their friendships, the flat they live on, more or less significant moments in their life are linked with the view of the structure. At the end of each month, when the moon is full, the structure is lit from below and all the stars of the night sky glow in their patio just for one night. This is when the Hippothontis celebrate their biggest fair.

Excerpts from the story Clair de Lune, part of the project 'Athens: Northwest Passage', by draftworks* Exhibited at the 13th Venice Biennale, Greek pavilion [curators: Panos Dragonas, Anna Skiada] 

This is how the story starts:

CLAIR DE LUNE, THE PLANISPHERE OR THE INVERSED PLANETARIUM

‘I would cheerfully have died then, because I had lived through the most beautiful story I had ever read in my entire life. Perhaps I had found that we all look for in the pages of books and on the screens of movie theatres: it was a story in which the stars and I were the protagonists’

Umberto Eco, Six Walks in the Fictional Woods

Hippothontis, Day 5, Maupertius

Hippothontis is a tribe that is not too much attached to this world. Some people say that their origin is from the sky, the night-sky, and that is where they tend to return.

Their knowledge of astronomy is very precise, and yet they confuse astronomy with astrology, most likely on purpose. They have written countless books about each one of the stars and the constellations, extremely detailed with all their physical properties and exact distance from earth. And yet, if you ask them, they will tell you that according to the old myth ‘stars are the pinholes in the curtain of the night poked by blooming-birds trying to escape’, or they will passionately try to assure you that, ‘as the French scientist Maupertuis has taught the nebulae are openings in the firmament, through which the empyrean can be seen’. That is not because they are confused, but because they have an eccentric understanding of reality; most of the times they don’t want to distinguish reality from fiction, or precision from approximation. They sometimes take for reality events that they have imagined, or events that others have narrated to them, and the opposite; they may take a real event for a caprice of imagination. That is why when they talk to each other one may understand them as being ironic, or schizophrenic; and a foreigner may even be insulted, as he will not understand if they are true to him or tease him and making fun of him. And yet what I admired to them was exactly that: they can talk about something obvious as being totally irrational and make something absurd seem to you as the most self-evident true in the world. And you will know that they never lie about it.

[...]

And this is how the story ends:

Hippothontis , Day 12, The Moonlight Landscape Fair

For 29,53 consecutive days each month, in between the two full moons, the Planisphere is full-lit and the constellations shine as if they have moved from the sky to the ground, the walls and the roofs. However once a month, when the moon is full and the stars in the sky have disappeared, when the moonlight casts on the buildings top and blind walls, they celebrate their biggest fare. They all go below the Inversed Planetarium and raise their look up. This is when the stars become actual pinholes and the ceiling becomes a glorious nebulae, lit by the moon, and then they tell you with pride: ‘Here, now you see how Maupertius was right’. This is when they switch the constellations off for a day 'And through the quiet moonlight their songs rise’:

Votre âme est un paysage choisi

Que vont charmant masques et bergamasques

Jouant du luth et dansant et quasi

Tristes sous leurs déguisements fantasques.

Tout en chantant sur le mode mineur

L'amour vainqueur et la vie opportune

Ils n'ont pas l'air de croire à leur bonheur

Et leur chanson se mêle au clair de lune,

Au calme clair de lune triste et beau,

Qui fait rêver les oiseaux dans les arbres

Et sangloter d'extase les jets d'eau,

Les grands jets d'eau sveltes parmi les marbres.

‘Clair de Lune’, poem by Paul Verlaine

[draftworks*2012. All rights reserved] 

[Clair de Lune, model and photograph by draftworks*architects]

[Clair de Lune, model and photograph by draftworks*architects]  

[Clair de Lune, model and photograph by draftworks*architects]

The Unfinished Cathedral, a story ‘Made in Athens’ #2

[The Unfinished Cathedral, model and photograph by draftworks*architects]

The second story is that of Erechteis, a tribe that is famous among the tribes of the Northwest Passage for their love for Chance. As they totally rely on Chance’s schizoid routes, they are incapable of ever finishing a thing by their own. The text exhibited tells the story of the only time they agreed in something and achieved in finishing it: that was the temporary dome of their cathedral. And they agreed in that only by chance, because the dome was just a temporal substitute for the real dome in the construction of which they never managed to agree. The temporary dome still stands there today, beautiful and mesmerizing. Without even knowing it, it manifests their most important achievement.

The Cathedral itself is a fill-in of a typical Athenian crossroads, as seen in the drawing below.

Excerpts from the story The Unfinished Cathedral, part of the project 'Athens: Northwest Passage', by draftworks* Exhibited at the 13th Venice Biennale, Greek pavilion [curators: Panos Dragonas, Anna Skiada] 

Here is how the story starts:

‘Where the gods reside even the most subtle deviations obtain huge dimensions and show how important is both in our actions and our thoughts what we have thought as insignificant’

Odysseas Elytis, Idiotiki Odos

Day 2, unfinished business

Erechteis are famous among the tribes of the North West Passage for their love for chance. Their notorious love is definitely expressed by their passion for chance games. They are very fond of games like cards and dice; they may spend their whole day at the stock market and put bets on everything. They use to start their phrases with ‘My bet is that...’ instead of ‘I believe that...’ or ‘I suppose that....’ or even ‘I wish that...’ they say ‘I bet on you...’ when they want to say ‘I believe you...’, ‘I trust you...’ or even ‘I love you...’. On the other hand they despise games where chance is not so much involved, like chess. They say ‘things that can be planned are the devil’s work!’. They are also highly superstitious; they paint their black cats white, they never use ladders and they don’t sleep on beds in case they forget and leave their hat on. Beyond that they also use to pay attention to the slightest detail. And when they talk to each other, they may fix their attention to a small detail and miss the whole picture. That is why they often misunderstand each other, get easily irritated and pick quarrels.

  

[...]

And here is how the story ends:

[...]

Erechtheis believe that the model of the roof is their biggest achievement. You can see it kept in a jewel case being cared like the most precious heirloom, the dome that they still try to design. This is their ‘Nuper Rosarium Flores’, their ‘blossoming flower’ of the Cathedral, the only work that, according to the prophesy, chance will let them one day to finish by their own. For centuries they believe that they are that close in finishing it. No one pays attention however to their temporary dome. They have never thought that this might be their real ‘blossoming flower .‘

[draftworks*2012. All rights reserved]


[The Unfinished Cathedral, drawing by draftworks*architects]


[The Unfinished Cathedral, model and photograph by draftworks*architects]


[The Unfinished Cathedral, model and photograph by draftworks*architects]


[The Unfinished Cathedral, model and photograph by draftworks*architects]

Making of #2: stories for the 13th Venice Biennale

[Gods' Cemetery, model and photograph by draftworks*architects]

Maybe one of architects’ most distinctive tasks is answering to questions. Now, there are two ways of answering; the first is to answer directly, like solving a problem, like proposing spaces to satisfy physical needs. We admit that this is maybe the most important and time-consuming way and it takes a lot of our own time andenergy too. There is, however, also a second way of answering, which is more indirect, more oblique, just brushing by reality, which, at the same time, means observing reality from a different standpoint.  In this particular way of answering you shift a little bit from the answer, you avoid answering directly to a problem and play dump a little bit. This does not mean avoiding reality, this does not mean escapism, this means entering into reality from another door. We remember the words of the Greek poet Odysseas Elytis who asks for:

‘A small turn of the head

Which could mean a turn of the whole world’

This means that a change of perspective can trigger a change of understanding things, which may trigger in turn a transformation of the world, a personal one.

For us, a way of doing this is by using techniques and strategies that the narrative arts -like literature or cinema- use: metaphors, allegories, speaking in first person and telling a story, instead of describing scientifically a condition. This way of answering to a question through a story also appeals to people in a different way than a building does, maybe not as users but as people that have the gift of imagining and who want to use it, which is the need that literature, for example, appeals to.

Our project consists of stories, drawings and models. The protagonist, who is an explorer that travels around a region of Athens, narrates the story in first person. In his travel he encounters imaginary tribes, each one of which has developed distinct habits and eccentric uses of space. Each tribe is also attached to a specific type of the urban environment of Athens.  The block, the crossroads, the space between blocks, the unused patios within the blocks, are the prime materials through which the eccentricity of each tribe emerges: Pandionis worship a different god every week and use to burry him in their ‘Gods Cemetery’ by the end of the week. Erechteis are against finishing things and they celebrate their peculiarity in their ‘Unfinished Cathedral’. Hippothontis believe that they originate from the night sky and they want to have the stars and constellations glowing in their back yard in ‘Clair de Lune’. Leontis are sure that their dreams is a night-reality that is as real as the day-reality. Aiantis have built a wall around their block beyond which, they believe, is the realm of the gods, the animals and the dead, in ‘Pomerium’. The allegory of the tribes at each case refers -but is not limited- to human conditions, their relationship with each other and with their city: passions, fears, desires, dangers, needs, limitations and prejudices can be read between the lines of each story.  

With the use of urban types of Athens and their imaginary transformation through narrative, we note that the city is made of a prime material, which can be transformed with the use of imagination.  This may not be the architect’s major task, it is however as much important. 

[draftworks*2012]

Please download the text here

Open publication - Free publishing - More architecture

The Gods' Cemetery, a story 'Made in Athens' #1

[Gods' Cemetery, model and photograph by draftworks*architects]


Excerpts from the story THE GODS’ CEMETERY, part of the project 'Athens: Northwest Passage', by draftworks* Exhibited at the 13th Venice Biennale, Greek pavilion [curators: Panos Dragonas, Anna Skiada] 

       ‘In the little Greece that we have left, the only thing that you can still do is pray to your gods. Which gods? Oh, but they are many. As many as the population of this country. Two meters below ground, or over your scratched sidewall, they stay awake. With broken noses, one arm cut-off, a little green of old times on the cloak or some crimson on the shoulders and a sight that does not stop on you but goes beyond‘

Odysseas Elytis, Idiotiki Odos 

Pandionis, Day 3, devout worshippers

Among the tribes of the Northwest Passage one is the most eccentric of all. Pandionis people are the most devout worshippers. They praise their god all through the day and night and at all occasions; when they talk, when they walk, when they take a shower, when they make love, in front of the TV, in front of the shop window, in the market. They worship their god all through the week, from Monday till the next Sunday. And this is exactly where their eccentricity lies: they worship their god for a week, and a week only, because then, every Monday, they kill their god and immediately invent a new one. 

This habit makes Pandionis a tribe of many gods, however in a strange way they cannot be considered impious or unreligious as they are uninterrupted worshipers; they have never run out of gods, and there was not a single day that they didn’t have a god to worship. They even have spare gods. Although they usually bury their gods themselves, sometimes the unexpected can happen: the god may die by himself before the week has ended. That is why they keep a couple of them as a backup, in case they run out.

Pandionis, Day 5, the burial feast

At the end of each week Pandionis people celebrate their biggest feast. This is when they bury their god. There is a place especially reserved for this kind of god-burial and they call it the ‘Gods’ Cemetery’. It is a place with crossed paths made of wood, placed on different levels. As the paths cross there are bits of ground that can be seen remaining between them like patches.

[...]

Depending on the size and the importance of the god they choose the burial site. There are gods so tiny, buried with only a few bottle tops or soda cans, plastic bottles and used pens. There are also gods so big, buried with their inflatable elephants and 12-valve cars, vending machines and commercial signs.  Accordingly there are tombs that are humble, with just a few rocks on them, and others that are grandiose, extravagant and tall, and can be seen from a few blocks away.

[...]

Then something beautiful happens: you can see bushes, colourful flowers, and some times trees, to grow over tombs. These gods are the luckiest. Due to the trees that cast their shadow, the bushes that attract the bees or the musky flowers that please the passengers the gods that lie underneath can be forever useful. Although their divinity week has already long expired. Then, they can be even remembered at times, mostly in spring.

[...]  it was the God of LifeLost, who was buried with a loading of guns, the God of TimeLost who was buried with boxes of folders, office desks, old PC’s and stamps, but also less pompous gods, like the god of lilac, who was buried with lilac lipsticks, lilac earrings and lilac flowers, the god of lids who was buried with used coffee cup lids, wok lids and pod lids, or the god of hair, who was buried with all the hair that have fallen from all the Pandionis people heads during the week of his kingdom.

There was also once that they worshipped the God of Danger, they buried him with a bomb. Some people say that this habit of burying their gods may someday be the Pandionis ending. Someone may forget and step on the God of Danger ‘s tomb. 

[draftworks*2012. All rights reserved]


[Gods' Cemetery, drawing by draftworks*architects]


[draftworks*2012. All rights reserved]

Haarlemmerstraat playground, the forming power of imagination

      At the west side of the old city centre of Amsterdam, off Haarlemmstraat (a small street with local stores and cute lunch shops) there is the old ‘West-Indisch Huis’ aka the home of the Dutch ‘West-Indies Company’, the organisation responsible for the Dutch colonial activity during the 17th century (The NY city founding pact was signed there in 1625). 

    Now, hidden behind the building there is one of the most well preserved Aldo van Eyck’s playgrounds. I had the chance to visit it exactly three years ago in August 2009, during a research trip to the playgrounds. In the middle of it there is a rectangular sandpit. It is ten by ten meters in size with a short continuous concrete verge surrounding it and a cylindrical altar-like stone in the middle. Three children were playing in it the day we visited it, totally absorbed by the world of their play. I stood there for a few minutes and imagined how the sandpit would work in the children’s imagination: the verge could take the form of a monumental wall, or a home couch, or a long table, and the altar would count as an imaginary large magical stone, or a stove to bake sand-balls or even the centre around which the world turns. However, the most prevailing element of all was the sand. It filled the sandpit and with its uneven surface looked like a stormy sea. The sand created the impression of a matter that there was always there and not just as an infill of the pit, like a primordial substratum that extended underneath the whole city. What kind of force could create this absurd impression?

     Van Eyck in his writings highlights the importance of children’s imagination, not as a cute childish thing, but as a power that can motivate the city. He discusses that imagination is the form of power that can re-combine things creatively, that can transform things and he pushes his argument so far as to support that eventually the only things that exist are those that are filtered through imagination: 

      'All things are recreated continually in the mind through the power of imagination –they would not exist otherwise, for only what passes through imagination really ‘exists’ –consciously or unconsciously – and is born anew. As all things pass through the continuum of man’s mind –the continuum of interiorized reality –they merge, become permeable and are recreated, transformed’ Aldo van Eyck, Writings 

     Looking back at the sandpit through the filter of imagination one could probably agree that it was not just a pit filled with sand. The concrete verge worked as a frame that opened a window to a second ground of the city, below the first man-made one, connecting our reality with a mythical landscape. We were lucky enough to catch a glimpse of this landscape through the frame of this pit. The verge, the altar and mainly the fluid matter of the sand were then formed in the hands of the children into small fictional worlds. Shouldn't the city offer such kinds of matter which, like sand, can be formed in the hands of children? Or in the imagination of the adults?


[draftworks*2012]