It
was the 16 November 2017: Christmas was approaching; and all of the ‘end
of year’ events. It was the day for the opening of the Spring
Exhibition at the Abedian School of Architecture: see -
http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2017/12/abedian-school-of-architecture-spring.html
Oddly, the title of this display sounded more European/American than
anything local: 'Spring.' Australia does not really refer to its
seasons in this manner; but perhaps that was the aim: a touch of
class? Australians still look to other countries for some recognition
of status. It displays something of the young country’s lack of
confidence; its insecurity. The seasons in Europe and the USA are
much more defined than in Australia, so there is real sense in
referring to them there – they punctuate the year memorably. It had
never occurred to me, but recently, after explaining the lack of definition in the Australian seasons,
the tiny changes, I was asked by a French visitor: "But doesn't it get boring?" Maybe that
is an inherent part of the bland Australian character, its drawl: we
tolerate things 'boring' with a careless, lackadaisical ineptitude -
"She'll be right mate."
House as portrait?
Hannah Tribe
In
parallel with this display of the student work, the Spring
Exhibition, there was to be a talk by Sydney architect Hannah Tribe,
part of the annual lecture series run by the school – the last for
the year. The drinks and buzzing chat of the exhibition lingered on.
It was not until 6:40pm that the crowd was called to order and asked
to sit down. Was this going to be another long, late-start, evening,
dragging on, careless of everyone else’s schedules? Professor
Keniger introduced Ms Tribe by suggesting that he knew little about
her and her work - he had looked up her web site for information. His
comment was that she was discrete and modest in her description of
herself, adding that she had won the final year's prize for her
student work at university, and has subsequently been running a
respected and successful Sydney practice that has undertaken an
astonishing broad scope and variety of projects for its youth. He
then handed the microphone over.
Google Images Renaissance portraits
Now
any comment on clothing here has nothing to do with gender, or any
insipid, 'royal' commentary: it has all to do with the quaint habits
of those in the profession. Hannah Tribe wore a long black dress, a
colour that seems to be preferred by architects. Unusually, her
'Corb' glasses were white. She moved straight into her talk without
any preamble, with the comment that she saw her houses as “portraits
of her clients;” “like a portrait, the house had a likeness to
the sitter.” Read altogether, collectively, “the houses could be
seen as a portrait of a culture.” This statement of her philosophy
was accompanied by a collection of Renaissance heads, (from Google
Images?), followed by the words of Lucian Freud: "Everything is
biographical."# (On Freud, see:
http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2017/05/freud-on-painting.html
and
http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2017/05/graphic-freud-design-as-sex.html
) This was her core strategy and logic, seemingly the basis of her
work: its raison d’etre. She did not illustrate her words with any
of the stunning Freud portraits.
Lucian Freud portraits
House as portrait?
The
screen opened up to lovely line drawings as Ms Tribe developed her
ideas: “a bunch of houses tells the story of culture and time;”
“the house compares with the city – intensely personal and
public; the house as portrait expresses the client; there is no
elegant, uniform housing theme, only the super mongrel.” Her work
was “the experiment in the mongrel: to tell the story of culture.”
The stage was being set; we were being encouraged to see her projects
in a certain manner, (c.f. John Berger Ways of Seeing; and
Wittgenstein’s ‘seeing as’ - the duck-rabbit example), as a
cohesive set of projects organised by the same, core philosophy: a
mongrel one! There looked to be a latent irony here that sought
rigour in chaos; order is a shambles.
Hannah
Tribe explained that she had returned to talk to her clients about
her work, and planned to use their recorded words in her talk. It was
a good idea; clients and their thoughts are usually ignored in favour
of ‘archi-speak.’ She started with her extensions: cool, white
boxes that explored light and shadow, shaped for their unique
contexts. Each project developed a theme and was given a catchy
title. The old was kept with the new added beside it in sundry ways.
Various and different strategies that had been adopted for extensions
were sketched, named, and explained. The words told of creating “a
little piece of architecture;” of an “interest in light; in
'interesting' spaces;” in “romantic overlays; and the celebration
of things suburban – the very things that Robin Boyd hated.” Ms
Tribe spoke of how she “celebrated ugly things,” and added
lean-tos to the old structures to create “an extension of self
through architecture.” Just what did this mean? The words framed
poetic ideas that attempted to shape the ordinary world of the
everyday in a special, an unusual way. There appeared to be an
inherent contradiction here, but it all sounded intriguing. Was one
not meant to think too deeply about things, just feel good about the
set scene?
Projects,
all extensions, were shown, along with a couple new homes. One new
building was accompanied by the frank words of the client. It was
good to see that the client’s descriptions were not edited to all
be in favour of the architect, effuse with personal praise: “I will
never use an architect again!” Strangely, these family places all
appeared similar in a certain way. While externally they had
different expressions in response to the original suburban building
being extended - “you’ll never see the architecture” - the
interiors were all white surfaces with polished concrete floors,
clear glass and clear finished timber, complete with slick,
minimalist kitchens, elegant storage units, and smart detailing:
truly modernist. The subtlety of place encompassed externally was
transformed into simple abstractions as interiors. Windows and other
openings were scattered about appropriately, architecturally, like
the other detailing, to try to frame jacarandas – there always
seemed to be a jacaranda somewhere. The lovely purple glowed in the
glazed rectangles – a speck of colour in the bright light of white.
It was never said that the open purple haze looking pretty against a
bright blue sky only lasted for a few weeks a year!
American Gothic
These
were portraits? Oddly every project appeared similar, familiar, in
one way or another. Then, when one saw the families photographed with
their home – reminding one of Grant Wood’s American Gothic
- something bizarre happened: all of the family groups started to
look the same too! Was this the basis of the similarities: that Tribe
attracted a certain type of client? The concept of the house as
portrait appeared to become a concern as it was pondered. Was this
merely a catchy idea on which to structure a talk? Can a house be a
portrait? Is Ms Tribe merely saying that the function and expression
of the house relates to the family's specific requirements, its
lifestyle and expectations? Is it too old fashioned to talk of
specific form following specific functions, (not forgetting Louis
Sullivan’s ‘function of the rose’)? 'Portraits' sounds much
more exotic than this FFF cliché, more academic and theoretical;
new; quixotically elite and intellectual. Is this what architecture
is – has become?
There
were other ideas too that elaborated on the details of the
philosophy/strategy: “prosaic inner poetic; the family life
response to the street, the bungalow; the connections between spaces,
between inside and out; contextualise; new out of old; overlay with
a new story of the family; exploring the idea of the familiar and
unfamiliar in suburbs; materiality; have lots of fun with materials
and language; to help find a poetic in the mundane; only good if
portraits of clients – honour the invitation to do the house; what
a home needs to be (Louis Kahn was not mentioned as the reference);
collage of pieces and parts; dialogue with Victorian heritage;
patterns of light and shade.” The words lingered as they shaped a
thoughtful, caring and sensitive, responsive world: or were they
clichés?
House as portrait?
A
few larger projects were illustrated, and some current projects. Ms
Tribe then repeated the Lucian Freud statement, turning it into
“everything is a portrait” – was she adapting Freud to give her
theme standing and relevance? – as if to neatly sum up the
evening’s presentation. One wondered: were her words explanations
after the event – a way of making sense out of a hybrid set of
random, disconnected projects: the ad hoc? But there was more: she
continued with her talk, introducing her staff and explaining their
ambitions for the future, one by one. It was a nice change to not
only see the clients have a say, but the staff also. Too often,
architectural firms frame the glory, the accolades, in the company’s
name only, not those of the staff involved – the back-room workers
usually remain concealed.
The Tribe office
Hanrahan A Setting 2017
Hannah
Tribe then moved on into more abstract matters, as if to further
enrich her ideas; to give them some abstract, arty relationship:
“amateurs of the imaginary; a sense of mystery; calligraphic/
runic” describing A Setting
2017, the work of Christopher Hanrahan – see:
https://www.google.com.au/search?biw=1006&bih=633&tbm=isch&sa=1&ei=Xg0zWpDsCsf98gX4toLgDg&q=christopher+hanrahan+artist+the+setting+2017&oq=christopher+hanrahan+artist+the+setting+2017&gs_l=psy-ab.3...29571.36328.0.36983.19.18.0.0.0.0.459.3055.0j5j3j3j1.12.0....0...1c.1.64.psy-ab..7.0.0....0.4sAUICzpkf4#imgrc=E50gmR4gDx8jOM:
“antiquity describes armature; new disturbs old subservient; how
to weave back together again.” Were these merely clever words
seeking status; recognition? Was this postscript an attempt to
capture, to cast some of the mystery and magic into the Tribe work:
to shape a way of seeing it; feeling it?
Then,
as if this was not enough,
she quoted A.A.Milne The Old
Sailor*:
a story about procrastination. It
is a long poem to make such a particular
point, but it made its mark, letting Milne,
of Christopher Robin fame, his sensitivity,
get close to her, her thoughts, and her
work. The message seemed to be: do not get
into such a muddle that you give up - “create
a happy healthy
working environment; want conceptual work with pragmatic work;
respond to heritage not as an
apology.” In short: “firmness,
commodity, and delight.”
Ms Tribe had
cleverly linked
her work and ideas
into the perennial philosophy of things architectural, as identified
by Vitruvius and confirmed by Wotton.
What could be better
than to end in this manner, after weaving
Renaissance portraits, Freud, Hanrahan
and Milne into the poetic, feel-good,
special-ordinary mishmash?
The
talk finished at 7:22pm. No, it was not to be a late evening that
tediously continued on with endlessly indulgent words explaining ME
and MY special brilliance in every intimate, extended detail that
means most to the presenter.
It
was an astonishing talk, thoughtful, to the point, snappy, cryptic,
thorough. It is the most compact of the Abedian talks attended to
date, (Leplastrier must be next on the list – see:
http://voussoirs.blogspot.com.au/2015/01/richard-leplastrier-ephemeral.html
), and the most dense with substance, sense, structure, and subtlety.
It was a beautiful talk, sensitive, (to both clients, staff and
audience), with endearing illustrations. By way of contrast, the
exhibits all had a sense of exhibitionism about them, work to be
displayed; egos to be promoted by glossy publication: of things
authentic being shoved aside to become ‘attractions’ - where
ordinary simple architecture is trampled upon, seen as lesser.
Architecture is not fairy floss or pretty fuzz: it needs substance,
feeling. It has to touch the real world of work and ideas as
expressed in Hannah Tribe’s projects.
The
Tribe talk exposed these matters with rigour and intellectual skill,
and nice drawings. It was complete, truly lovely; even if one might
have some questions about various issues. Is this not the challenge
of debate and review – the search for that elusive sense of truth;
the perpetual testing of conjecture with refutation (Karl Popper)?
The profession must accept this process or become a
self-congratulatory, self-indulgent mate’s club. It was wonderful
to see good, sensitive work, modestly and carefully, thoughtfully
presented; work that ‘had its feet on the ground, and with the head
connected to them.’ One hopes that the students were listening and
learning.
Portrait?
#
Michael Ondaatje expands
on this quotation:
“Everything is
biographical, Lucian Freud says. What we make, why it is made, how we
draw a dog, who it is we are drawn to, why we cannot forget.
Everything is collage, even genetics. There is the hidden presence of
others in us, even those we have known briefly. We contain them for
the rest of our lives, at every border we cross.”
*
The Old Sailor
by A.A. Milne
There was once an old
sailor my grandfather knew
Who had so many things
which he wanted to do
That, whenever he
thought it was time to begin,
He couldn't because of
the state he was in.
He was shipwrecked, and
lived on a island for weeks,
And he wanted a hat, and
he wanted some breeks;
And he wanted some nets,
or a line and some hooks
For the turtles and
things which you read of in books.
And, thinking of this,
he remembered a thing
Which he wanted (for
water) and that was a spring;
And he thought that to
talk to he'd look for, and keep
(If he found it) a goat,
or some chickens and sheep.
Then, because of the
weather, he wanted a hut
With a door (to come in
by) which opened and shut
(With a jerk, which was
useful if snakes were about),
And a very strong lock
to keep savages out.
He began on the
fish-hooks, and when he'd begun
He decided he couldn't
because of the sun.
So he knew what he ought
to begin with, and that
Was to find, or to make,
a large sun-stopping hat.
He was making the hat
with some leaves from a tree,
When he thought, "I'm
as hot as a body can be,
And I've nothing to take
for my terrible thirst;
So I'll look for a
spring, and I'll look for it first."
Then he thought as he
started, "Oh, dear and oh, dear!
I'll be lonely tomorrow
with nobody here!"
So he made in his
note-book a couple of notes:
"I must first find
some chickens" and "No, I mean goats."
He had just seen a goat
(which he knew by the shape)
When he thought, "But
I must have boat for escape.
But a boat means a sail,
which means needles and thread;
So I'd better sit down
and make needles instead."
He began on a needle,
but thought as he worked,
That, if this was an
island where savages lurked,
Sitting safe in his hut
he'd have nothing to fear,
Whereas now they might
suddenly breathe in his ear!
So he thought of his hut
... and he thought of his boat,
And his hat and his
breeks, and his chickens and goat,
And the hooks (for his
food) and the spring (for his thirst) ...
But he never could think
which he ought to do first.
And so in the end he did
nothing at all,
But basked on the
shingle wrapped up in a shawl.
And I think it was
dreadful the way he behaved -
He did nothing but bask
until he was saved!
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