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As of now, my stool is nearly complete. In order to construct the stool, I utilized a cardboard box along with three USPS boxes. With my stool, I wanted to focus my attention on strength, but center the majority of the stool’s structural capacity around a strong, basic geometry. Specifically, I wanted to create a simplistic design that would still resemble a typical stool. By doing so, the tectonics of my stool are quite visible to the viewer. In the conception process, I initially drew a design utilizing four legs with the same shape seen in the current iteration. After designing the pieces, I found that with the amount of cardboard I had that three reenforced legs would serve to bear the weight better than four singular segments of cardboard. Once I made this change, my design consisted of strictly the center triangular structure, with small pieces of cardboard slotted onto each of the three legs in order to keep the pieces together. The three legs were reenforced by multiple layers of cardboard and designed thicker towards the bottom to improve strength, but ultimately this was not enough to bear the necessary weight.

After testing, I realized that the stool was experiencing too much torsional force, to the point that it would warp and become weak with added weight. This was due in part to the lack of structure towards the bottom of the stool. Additionally, the pre-made folds in the original cardboard boxes would buckle under the stress, allowing the stool to twist. In order to combat this issue, I added the triangular frame to the bottom of the stool. While it is not the most aesthetically pleasing buttress, it allows the stool to bear my entire weight. All connections are accomplished via slots, located on each leg at the intersection with the base triangle and the center where the small pieces of cardboard are located. Over the coming days, I will be focusing on ways to improve the aesthetics of the design and potentially reimagine the triangular frame.

The people that used to watch out for me no longer come. My friends on the roof used to light up in anticipation everyday, waiting for them to arrive. As soon as they’d enter the doors, light would flood every corner. The stoves would be turned on to make breakfast. I miss the light and I miss the warmth.

I don’t have any windows. I know that the other places people go to have windows, but it never bothered me until now. My outside structure was only structural, meant to keep people warm. But now, with no one to come see me, it’s been dark and cold. Now, I wish I had windows. Maybe I’d be able to keep myself warm that way.

The days have been passing by. No more than three people have come to see me recently. It’s better than a few months ago though. A bunch of people came then, dressed in odd hats and boots. They said they came in to fix things after the accident, but they just ended up tearing apart everything. The ceiling panels that concealed the ugly things, now let loose an array of wires and cords. The kitchen doesn’t look like a kitchen anymore. It’s been dark and cold, and I can barely recognize myself.

I have a lot of time to think now. The presence of people scurrying around during dinner time rush, the heat of the stoves radiating throughout the kitchen, and the sounds of people’s voices seem like a distant past. Sometimes I want to forget, so I don’t miss it, but the empty stoves and dirty walls remind me. I think too long and I can’t remember how long it’s been.

I try to have hope. There’s been a few days where the man and sometimes the lady visit. They usually takes things and leave, but I always get the feeling they’ll come back. And so far they have. I’m still not sure why everyone left. Till I find out why, I will keep looking forward to my short visits from the couple, and I hope that one day, they’ll turn the light on and stay for a while longer.

 

 

 

If we observe closely around us we can see meaningful imagery everywhere. The concept is known as pareidolia. It is “the tendency to perceive a specific, often meaningful image in a random or ambiguous visual pattern”

Over the course of my life I have noticed that I often see images in other images. Always having a hyper imagination has led me to see things, often animals, in completely random objects. When you look at the random detail in the building detail pictured above you might just see a metal sheeting or not see anything at all except the white and black shapes. When I look at it I see a Manta Ray glowing against the dark background. Swimming smoothly in the dark sea. Its small eyes peering at you as it swims past. If you look closely the small black eyes are nails drilled into metal. As I continue to walk around I see other details such as the one below. While some might interpret this as only metal gate, I see a swordfish jumping out of the water. Maybe the swordfish and manta ray could be friends. They’re both made out of metal so how could they not be! While they may not near each other in the oceans, in my imagination it does not matter. The Manta Ray and Swordfish live in a peaceful harmony.

A story:

One day, the manta ray and swordfish are swimming in the bay, having a lovely conversation. They decide they are tired so they head towards the shallower area where the trees hang over the water. Both the swordfish and manta ray lay floating on their backs relaxing in the water. Suddenly they pass under a tree with a nest in it. The swordfish has always had a great appreciation for birds so he gets very excited. He tells the manta ray where to look and both of them stare up into the branches together. They see a small chick peeping down at them. Its beady eyes staring in confusion.

Suddenly, out of know where, the chicks mother comes SWOOPING down towards them. The manta ray and swordfish dive deep into the water in a panic. That mother bird was not happy with two strange sea creatures looking at her and her baby. The Manta Ray and Swordfish swim off into the sea, deciding that was enough action for the day. The End.

This light is located in my room and I often stare at it when I am laying in bed. Even though I know that it is just an empty bulb I see a small chick sleeping inside of a nest. Do you see the bird peeking through? The yellowish background looks like it could be its fur and then there are two beady eyes. Do you notice yourself seeing things and animals in random objects? Maybe this is a symptom of being an art student but I find myself fixating upon these details constantly. Even if it may not be a useful skill, it is entertaining.

General John Nixon Elementary School has, quite literally, been a bastion of education for 60 years, accented by its castle-like turret and heavy brick construction.

This was, of course, before the virus came. Gone are the days where the main hall was full of students struggling to contain their excitement while in their single-file line to lunch, and if one looks through the main hall, past the colorful pillars supporting the turret, and out the opposing doors towards the playground, all one will see is a couple greens columns of the sad, lonely playground wondering why no one wants to play with it anymore, far off in the background.

The auditorium and gym is formed by a triangular shape, almost like that of the bow of a ship, floating above the water, that cantilevers over the columns supporting it, revealing the diagonal beams that actually support most of its weight. Pointing into the sky, this seemingly floating representation of the upwards trajectory of its young, bright students is equally depressing; its optimism now ironic, for the students no longer are able to pursue their musical, artistic, and athletic passions within it. Tragically, this place of learning and happiness will remain dead until May 4th, 2020, or in all likeliness, far longer.

Although it’s only been 2 weeks to the day, my imprisonment feels like it has gone on for centuries. The seconds stretch themselves into hours and boredom and gloom are heavy within the house. In my cell of a domain,  I glance over to the furnace vent from my nest of a bed. The continuous clang from the steam used to keep me up at night, but for the past month, no noise has breezed through its structure. I contemplate taking my tea mug and running it across the bars, hoping to awake the beasts hot breath but I know that to be silly. The scales are too intricate to produce much noise with my single tea mug. I would need hundreds, no a million! to produce the breath of the dragon.

I sigh and turn over to the window.

‘Maybe I should ask my housemates if we can turn the heat up a degree or two? It is supposed to get warmer over the next few days so maybe not’. 

I glare at the window. It’s taunting me, I can tell. The sky is blue and from the single-paned glass, I can tell there’s not a cloud in the sky.  The window pokes its small little tongue out at me like a small child.

“Na nah Na na nah na nah you can’t go outside” it seems to sing.

I turn back over to the door. Hoping to escape the silent hurling of insults.

‘Oh no, am I going insane?’

I shrug the thought away. I look into the beady black eye that is my doorknob. I blink. It does not. I blink again. Again, nothing from the doorknob.

“Ooooh I see how it is, you’re challenging me to a staring contest”

The doorknob, ever the enigma, refuses to answer.

A put in a few eye drops, lubing up the good ol’ googlies ooglies. This is it, what my entire life has been leading up to. The staring contest to end all staring contests.

On Your Marks. Get Set. GO!

…

…

…

I lost. I barely made it past 32.89 seconds. I’m a failure. I have lost my marbles and I’m a failure. At least I have this blog post to show the doctor as my plea of insanity.

11:46 am, I’ve arrived at the residence. The wooden house is dark and ominous from the outside, just like I remembered it to be. The entrance is strategic: the wooden panes of the ever so slightly align with the panes of the house. The darkness illuminates the metallic handle. Despite the darkness, the window reveals the transparency of the house. It lures outsiders in, giving me the feeling of being inside the house, looking outdoors to the backyard. It’s almost as if I am invited inside…

Inside I realize I have been deceived; the emptiness is welcoming. Those who live here now haven’t made this place theirs yet. Although the canvas is blank, light paints the ceiling.

As I walk under the doorway to the living area, I feel a rush of relief. I can leave this place content now. I remember where I left the gold.

The electrical box sits quietly in the back corner of the basement, waiting in times of disaster. For when power outages hit our neighborhood. It is masked by a white cabinet that attempts to beautify the underground bedroom it sits in. However, the bedroom is not in isolation, the wires from that box connect the entire house, making it bright. The cabinets beautify an item that beautifies other things. It is the end of the loop in a house of decoration. The basement brings this beauty to the tip of negative space, where light is able to highlight the diagonal beams running through the ceiling. This gives way to an eye catching asymmetry in the main hallway. Even though the hidden beams and the electrical box are in completely different spaces, they depend on each other for both support and lighting. They are a perfect couple in a complex system called home. The same beam that makes the ceiling possible, is supported by a large metal pole, decorated in wood and paint. Without the pole running through almost the entire house, neither the diagonal pole nor the electric box can do its job. As kids, we played around the pole, ignoring the protectiveness it provides for us. Without these details, our house wouldn’t be what it is. A complex system of beams, columns, and wires make up what I call home.

The heart of this house comes from an appreciation for the fine arts and the great minds that produced them. Every day, the students who pass through are reminded of their brilliance, by both the subtle and bold details. Imagery of some of the most influential artists of all time are captured in stain glass, centered by the words “Blest be the art that can immortalize.” Just as these names have stood the test of time, this building hopes to do the same.

As you roam the halls, you notice that the rooms are unlike anywhere else on campus. High strung ceilings and light design instill a sense of grandiosity, similar to a church. Windows span this great distance, allowing natural light to illuminate the rooms. The combination of the two details creates a sense of wonderment, providing innate inspiration for those who pass through. Wherever you look, intricate details underline these greater ones. The inclusion of these intricacies reminds the mindful viewer of the immense work that was required for every detail in the space.

On the exterior, the heavy construction is as clear as day. Stone arches surround the structure, providing a sense of security for those within. The columns that define the arches are capped by carved, smooth stone, standing in stark contrast to the rough exterior seen elsewhere. With these facets, this space becomes a fortress of learning. It hopes to inspire the next generation to continue to advance the works of those before them, as it provides a safe haven for their thought.

Shokan by Jay Bargmann

Jay Bargmann’s Shokan house in upstate New York presents itself as, at least when presented solely by itself, a place of uniformity and precision. In context though, it is merely a blip in the vast forest space around it. Rather than placed horizontally along the landscape, it is slid in as to cause a lesser disruption to the broader surroundings and essentially be one with it.

While this house, comparatively, is in dramatic contrast to its direct exterior environment, it remains very natural and appropriate for the sort of perceived minimalism it gives off. With the serene forest environment surrounding it, this appears as a solid reflective glass prism designed to perfectly welcome itself in an otherwise untouchable location. While seemingly minimal, its attention to detail is prevalent on the grandest to the smallest scales. From the natural materials and muted and neutral color palette, it juxtaposes the greenery around it as a place of deconstruction and unraveling of beautiful organic environment that surrounds.

The house was designed with detail in mind. While many have an idea of ornamentation when it comes to detail, myself included, this sets the bar to what modern detail can display. “Every piece records the construction of the house and is essential to the concept,” said the architect. The story of this house is certainly one of honesty and reflectivity of its being. The natural environment around it is the star of the show and this house isn’t trying to be anything its not. Thats why the story of its construction is anything but hidden. It has a reason for being there and it’s explaining to everyone why.

This house doesn’t make sense if it were in any most places. The forest is such a raw, untouched environment that nature and its fundamental laws are all it is. Shokan is designed to capture the essence of the idea of logic and self-sustainable nature in its details. Everything has one purpose and one purpose only. I tend to believe the laws of nature follow the “form follows function” rule and the architect knew that was essential to integrate when designing this house.

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Just as in nature, the beauty lies in the details and intricacies of its natural functions. While from afar it presents a stark offset to the landscape, its entire concept is a detail in which the closer you look, the more you unpack its story.

This is Matsumoto Castle located in Matsumoto, Japan. I actually toured this castle 3 years ago, and it was one of the first examples I thought of when it comes to attention to detail. This structure tells many stories about the role of the samurai through the details, because the structure is very deceiving. The first image displays a 5 story pagoda- however, the structure actually has 6 stories, the second roof from the top conceals 2 floors. The samurais would sleep on the hidden story for safety should the castle be under attack. The story told through this detail is that the samurais life is of great importance, clever and thoughtful design can be preventative measures, and that the samurai was wealthy enough to afford drastic safety measures. Next, the castle also features many small carvings on the exterior. Many of the carvings are too small and high up to be viewed, and many even face the moat. Many of the small details are not actually for viewing, but instead for spiritual purposes. Symbols of protection like the dragon on the outside of the castle tell the story of care, craftsmanship, spirituality, and artistry that came into play when this structure was built. Finally, the interior of the castle is deceiving as well. The beauty on the outside of the castle is not continued on the inside. The structure is mostly empty, there was never any art or furniture inside of the pagoda structure, just wooden walls, beams, and poles. Further, no nails, screws, or glues were used. The beams holding the structure together join like puzzle pieces. This tells a story of craftsmanship, investment, perfectionism, and long-lastingness. The craftsmanship meant that the ownership could be passed down from generation to generation. Overall, The details are arguably the most important part of the architecture, they make this castle unique, beautiful, and long lasting. They tell the story of cleverness, intent, and investment.