LAGOON HOUSE - STUTCHBURY & SUBURBIA

The ideal of Modernism is unique individuality; a singular, bespoke identity that anchors itself in superior isolation, be this a personal presence or a stand-alone building. The ‘hero’ architect becomes the fantasy vision, the professional ambition – see:https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2025/09/the-architects-lament.html - with buildings ideally being built on remote or isolated sites as a matter of fact; and if this is not possible, the images are carefully framed for publication to exclude the neighbours and ignore the context, presenting the preferred, lone, ‘iconic’ vision as a set of specially selected, artful pieces (again, see: https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2025/09/the-architects-lament.html and https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2024/01/architecture-as-bitsnpieces.html): such is Modernism – ME!

Peter Stutchbury has gained a reputation for exquisitely detailed structures, most of which seem to be on remote sites, stand alone structures, or places that are presented as this. His work is beautifully and carefully resolved, often being referred to as ‘precious,’ not in any disparaging manner, but in the sense of being of great value; highly esteemed or cherished; refined – https://www.merriam-webster.com › dictionary › precious.

Invisible House.

Deepwater Woolshed.

Oddly, the Media Summary of his ‘Lagoon House’ seems to go out of its way to claim that this project is ‘not precious,’ presumably seeking to avoid any sense of suggesting pretence or affectation that the word could also imply; but the house is precisely resolved and assembled in a considered, self-conscious manner, standing self-assured and different in its context with its bespoke identity. The point in this ‘Lagoon House’ project is that it is on the perimeter of a suburban location that is in the proximity of a lagoon that gives it its name.

The site.

Stutchbury’s ‘Lagoon House’ is located at North Curl Curl, (a search on Google Earth reveals that the residence is located at 6 Surf Road), in New South Wales, on what can be described as a ‘suburban block’ that is really a very special place, not ‘suburbia,’ being located on the edge of a densely developed suburban sprawl, on a site opening out to a reserve area near the Curl Curl Lagoon, adjacent to where it enters the ocean at the Curl Curl Northern Sand Dune and the North Curl Curl Beach. The subdivision is typical of that seen in most suburbs, with small blocks being built on almost to the limits, giving the usual awkward adjacency to dwellings in these places, which, with the struggle for individuality, often causes potentially troublesome clashes both in fact and function.

The Stutchbury project addresses these annoying, unsettling suburban matters, managing them adroitly with the usual tools for such proximity, along with some additional inventive detailing. The residence comes with everything one might expect on such a site, all designed with the determined precision that one sees in Stutchbury’s work. The circumstance of neighbours and density seems to have been accepted and tolerated here, rather than addressed in any radical manner with form. Stutchbury has given us a very neatly detailed suburban home squeezed in between the neighbours as a precisely proportioned, precious box with a snug fit. Strangely, one reads the place as halves that could belong to, or be referencing the different neighbours, striking an unexpected schizophrenic stance in the understanding of what one is looking at: a split identity, like a half black and half white face. The irony here is that the house seems to be a ‘fit’ by acknowledging the other with its bespoke identity, presenting a somewhat modest, self-deprecating, but certain, self-assured, determined mannerist expression. One could see the house as fragments of the neighbours colliding into the spare lot between, trying to be 'at one,' while making a concentrated effort to be different.

The project is published in the Australian Institute of Architects site: https://www.architecture.com.au/archives/awards/lagoon-house-p-s-architecture where it is recorded that the traditional land owners were the ‘Garigal people.’ It notes that Curl Curl, the name of the lagoon and the region, comes from the aboriginal Curial Curial, referring to ‘river of life.’ One wonders just what this reference to traditional land owners is for, because there seems to be nothing done in relation to this fact other than the ticking of the ‘politically correct’ box. The unstated comment seems to be: "As if we care." The land is not going to be given back to the traditional owners; and the development of this parcel of land is self-consciously deliberate, responding to a brief that has little to do with this recognition that remains merely a noted fact, with seemingly nothing to do with any story or reference to ‘country,’ even knowing the ‘river of life’ explanation. The project even wipes out the recent history of this place as if it were irrelevant, happy to be forgotten.

Lest we forget.

Neither Stutchbury nor the AIA publication mentions anything about the previous house on this site that was demolished to make way for the new ‘iconic’ structure, but Street View on Google Earth illustrates the story of the quaint little ‘Fibro’ cottage that was removed to make way for the grand Stutchbury project. One senses that the same disregard has been given to the aboriginal referencing. It is as if this existing modest home meant nothing, just something to be obliterated when compared to the proud, smart, new build which completes the suburban squeeze. The scheme has something of the quality of the siting of the Reitvelt Schrőder house, with its eye-catching, rectilinear fragmentation and articulation standing against the different adjacent development which rarely gets photographed – see: https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2021/02/rietvelds-schroder-house-utrecht-seeing.html. It is a suavely considered and exquisitely expressed scheme cleverly placed as a collage of things different.

Reitvelt Schrőder House.

From the street, the massing of the building appears to self-consciously connect the voids at the front of the ‘Lagoon House’ with those in the adjacent residences in an unfortunate manner that seems to mock the other’s privacy. It looks as though there could be, or was meant to be a relationship between these separate verandah places that all appear eager to grab the view, and in doing so, share their open spaces at the cost of blinkered privacy. The ‘offset’ Stutchbury verandahs appear to have been adjusted to specifically align with these neighbours’ verandahs; they seem to be looking at them, trying to be ‘polite’ extensions of these other spaces in spite of the attempt at privacy seeking to achieve the separateness that this demands. The verandahs of the project sit together back to back, as if they were trying to ignore each other in a petty standoff, a gay tiff; a concept heightened by having each side of the house finished in a different material. This de Stijl fragmentation and articulation seems to have been used for patterning alone; for interest; an attempt to turn boxed simplicity into self-conscious, ‘precious’ style. The rear elevation is managed in the same deliberately arranged, fragmented manner, with it all being very tastefully assembled.

One is left wondering about the tensions of proximity that this suburban block has offered; some associations seem to remain an issue. One is always concerned about this matter and keeps looking for subtle approaches that could help attend to these impacts on a broader, more general, everyday scale – such is the problem. Stutchbury seems aware of these issues, and has managed to handle most of them in a modestly clever manner, but some clashes and intrusions still appear to linger.

The photographer's eye defines the interior.

The interiors, as presented – one should always best see the place in situ – seems skilfully handled to cleverly manage light, breezes and adjacency, offering a sense of openness in a confined, private environment. One could agree that there is some sense of connection to place, if only by the circumstance that it is there, and opens up to it. These internal spaces are neatly articulated, beautifully detailed, and subtly refined. They appear to hold a more relaxed stance than the external expression, with the outer expression being something of the ‘harder shell’ with the softer interior, a resolution which seems appropriate to the context.

The site is so tight that the exterior photographs cannot but include some portion of the neighbours; but still it seems that the effort has gone into concentrating on ‘the one.’ Street View reveals the broader siting that has been excluded in the published images. The point is: why has this effort been made when the project is able to hold its own in the broader context, held in place by its neighbours, while remaining alone and styled in a finer, more determined, controlled manner, with its own quietly singular, lonely expression in its particular situation?

The interior images present the usual piecemeal 'artful' glimpses of the place considered 'aesthetically.'

The proposition that needs to be responded to is: how do we build better, more coherent places – suburbs, towns, cities? How can we improve our gathering that currently is a mere cluttering of separate pieces all trying to be ‘iconic,’ ‘statement’ buildings, even if they try to address the inevitable problems of proximity? It is a challenge that needs to be accepted, because even good design for one residence is not enough to do anything about this greater communal complexity other than to share the singularity, even if, as in this case, this has been handled with a special sensitivity that softens the blow.

Media summary

Lagoon house is located along the north outlet of Curial Curial (Curl Curl) lagoon meaning river of life. The project responded to the client’s brief and beyond; it has engaged with the exploration of space and light whilst sandwiched between two large residences. It reinforces the tradition of elemental architecture characteristic of p.s.architecture in this instance in suburban Sydney.

Entry Court is an extension of the back dunes the ground floor living introduces scale light and breeze typical of this place. Stairs are lightweight and provide joyful access to a variety of upper level places bathrooms and laundry practical. Bedrooms buffer both with qualities of light, one east one west.

Lagoon house is not precious but relies on the knowledge of daily activities to embellish life, the familiarity of one’s favourite clothing to dwell comfortably all within the one of Sydney’s landscape.

. . . 

Our dream was to build a family home that would stand the test of time. Working with Peter to create this legacy has been a personal, metamorphic experience where the outcome has exceeded our expectations. Through design and materials, Peter and his team met all the objectives of our brief.

While situated on a beautiful site with views of the ocean and lagoon, the challenges were weather exposure, lot size, and proximity to neighbouring homes. Peter responded with an innovative design that not only provides connection to the natural environment, but also offers luxury of privacy and flexibility of space.

Client perspective

https://www.architecture.com.au/archives/awards/lagoon-house-p-s-architecture

SITE HISTORY

from Street View

Jan 2008

Nov 2009

Nov 2013

Nov 2016

Oct 2018

Sept 2019

Jun 2025

. . . 

'My place.'

The Lagoon House in situ.

Memories: we manage history selectively.

The traditional land owners were the ‘Garigal people.’

SWELL 25 – NECESSITY & ESSENCE

Cover showing No. 3 Verdant Deployment Frederick Beel - 

'native seeds to be released on a bombing raid.'

It's Swell time again; the sculpture festival at Currumbin. What can one say? Yet again, we are getting the replay, the familiar format as that is seen year after year. It is as though the festival is run on auto, in accordance with the handbook.

What can one say other than “What can one say”? It has all been said before, and no one seems to care. Why is a sculpture festival so predictable? Why does it not set an example of experimentation, of variety, of challenges – inspired surprises, rather than the mere pushing of a product; the presentation of a brand – with the same graphics; the same formats; the same schematic map; the same blurbs; even the identical identity? The celebration seems to thrive on nostalgia. One can see some sense in this, but is it really just too predictable? No doubt the response will be the mantra: when one is on a good thing, one should stick to it. Why change something that is not ‘broken’?

No.50: From Pelican's Perspective Pimparat Tantisukarom - 

'reconsider . . . relationship with nature.'

Perusing the artworks submitted, one can see a very general environmental referencing in most of the ideas. The blurb written for each submission frequently mentions these environmental concerns: our planet, things green, climate change, nature, and the like; or some other lifestyle sentiment like well-being and wholeness that is intertwined with these concerns.

No. 68: Endangered Species Installation - Birds And Flowers Al Phemister -

'This powerful visual highlights the scale of the crisis.'

These intentions all appear admirable, but the major problem seems to be that the referencing is most generally managed by signs or similarities, or something like a suggestive, schematic parallel or allusion that has to be mentally manipulated to connect with some obscure analogy in order for one to perceive the proposed, supposed relevance which frequently has to be carefully calculated, assessed, deconstructed, reconstructed, and interpreted in order to be 'seen': “Ah!”

No. 65: Daydream Claudia Hickel -

'nature has the power to restore us.'

Often the words refer to subtleties and esoteric concepts using hard facts and figures of speech which destroy and deform rather than enlighten the vision, creating that stark contrast that lies at the heart of humour and farce, shattering the seemingly heartfelt concerns seeking to be expressed with dreary, hopeful, motherhood statements and the distracting bland realities of form.

No. 72: The Shanty Men Monte Lupo - 'unity, resilience, and collective energy.'

Examples have been selected here in order to illustrate the problem. The choice of these works is not a personal critique as the issue is a general one.

No. 29: I Believe I Can Fly.

For example, Number 29: I Believe I Can Fly by Gleb Dusavitskiy, presents a pair of butterfly wings fabricated in rusting Corten steel with angular strut stiffeners in order to provide the concept of delicate flight. It is a difficult challenge, turning the ambition to engage with this experienced, weightless illusion into a struggle, in spite of the idea that seeks to prompt it: “The work symbolises the limitless nature of dreams.” One is left to stand alone in front of the sculpture and be photographed to look like a person 'with wings,' using an idea similar to those playful, quirky, 'face in hole' photo boards painted with a fat lady: ‘Look at me! Ha! Ha!’: “It offers a moment of reflection, empowerment, and possibility.” The intentions are profound but the realisation appears to be everything that is is different.

No.1: Of Sowing And Reaping.

Likewise, Number 1, Of Sowing And Reaping, by Nadine Schmoll, which offers “Bales of Queensland sugarcane . . . with lines raked in the surrounding sand” to provide “a space for contemplation and reflection of the complexities and challenges within the agricultural industry.” The concept is admirable, but the idea that a few bales placed on the beach might be sufficient to induce the desired intention remains an inherent difficultly, being close to a folly. Oddly, the raked sand of the Ryoan-ji Temple in Kyoto is not referenced here when it might offer a more substantial base for understanding the idea. Rather, one is asked to make the leap and become meditative just because the artist wishes this to be the reaction. Alas, when we viewed the work, there was no raked sand, just the usual smudge of beach sand disturbed by feet; and the bales, even on this Tuesday, were looking tired, suffering under their sunny exposure. It was not a happy scene: POA. One might suggest that it might cost the artist to take this away.

Ryoan-ji Temple, Kyoto.

No.2: Bright Buoy

Note how tiny No.3 is in the background when compared to the image presented as the cover photograph above.

Number 2 highlights the word game in these blurbs: Bright Buoy by John Macdonald “is a conceptual sculpture inspired by solar thermal sun-tracking devices.” The problem is that “the sculpture itself in non-functional,” but still “it is where sculpture meets climate and creativity meets innovation” Is this so? One might like it to be, but there remains a real gap between the experiential and conceptual desires here, and even with the realities. It is a common void that one repeatedly comes across in the texts that accompany the illustrations in the catalogue.

No. 22: Roll Models Chainsaw Newton -

'working with nature, not against it, offers the most sustainable path forward.'

There seems to be a lack of understanding or appreciation here, with intentions being clear in the artists’ minds, but with the works sometimes verging on the trite when it comes to the sensitivities of the subject being explored. This might sound hard and harsh, but it appears to be so. One might reference John Betjeman’s response when he was asked what he thought about the presentation that put some of his poetry to music and dance. He noted that he admired the effort, but thought that it added very little to the poetry.

No. 41: Beach Ball Spider Drew McDonald -

'a metaphor for the absurdity of existence.'

One might say the same about some sculptures: that one can admire the effort that has gone into the fabrication and presentation of these works, and even the time given to the thoughts behind them, but that the final sculptures add very little to the latter, standing boldly as manufactured signs for thinking about thoughtful intentions that operate on a different level to that of the perception of the piece.

No. 79: Dream Rider.

Number 79, Dream Rider by Michael Brown “reflects the impact of consumerism on our environment.” One wonders how. The sculpture is of an impressive, big bird. The idea is “a dream that every human will respect our planet. This dream of coexistence rides on the wings of Dream Rider.” It is difficult to put the visuals together with the words as the artist might like us to do. There is a great gap that takes us away from these admirable intentions. There is no essential substance in the work that demands this reading; we see a big bird. We have to engage with the fantasy of the story in order to see the artist’s point, and then we find ourselves in a fairyland of make-believe rather than in any transformative experience that might achieve any outcome other than puzzlement.

   

To try to understand these subtle matters, one needs to look at symbols and how they are considered in tradition. Abū Bakr Sirāj ad-Dīn (Martin Lings) explains in The Book of Certainty The Islamic Texts Society, Cambridge, 2015:

p.29

. . . and since he (Satan) had in reality only the fruits of the Garden of the Soul to offer them, that is, the known and wonted objects of perception, being himself everlastingly barred from the Garden of the Heart, he could only tempt them with forgeries, giving the known and wonted objects of perception a semblance of strangeness by suggesting abnormal and irregular uses for them.

One could compare this situation with art today.

p.37

. . . when, in connection with the dhikr, the Qur’ān speaks of the mathal – ‘example’ or ‘symbol’ – it is referring to the essential or ‘vertical’ likeness between higher and lower domains, such as those already mentioned between the Heart and the soul. A symbol is something in a lower ‘known and wonted’ domain which the traveller considers not only for its own sake but also and above all in order to have an intuitive glimpse of the ‘universal and strange’ reality which corresponds to it in each of the hidden higher domains. Symbols are in fact none other than the illusory perfections of creation which have already been referred to as being guides and incentives to the traveller upon his journey, and they have the power to remind him of their counterparts in higher worlds not through merely incidental resemblance but because they are actually related to them in the way that a shadow is related to the object which it casts. There is not the least thing in existence which is not such a shadow . . . Nor is there anything which is any more than a shadow.

With this text in mind, one could say that the artist seeks to reveal the shadow rather than self-expression or some other rationalisation.

p.38

What is true of earthly objects applies also to acts: an earthly act is the last of a hierarchy of corresponding shadows which spans the whole Universe. Figuratively speaking, if each series of corresponding shadows or reflections throughout the different worlds be likened to the series of the rungs of a ladder, an earthly act is the lowest rung, or rather as the support upon which rests the foot of the ladder, and to stand at the foot in upward aspiration is precisely what constitutes an act of remembrance in the sense of the word dhikr. The traveller may thus sanctify all his acts in seeking to remember, through them, the Divine Qualities in which they are rooted.

p.39

The ladder as a symbol of the true rite and all that this rite implies recalls the tree which is mentioned in he opening quotation as a symbol of the good word;

Symbols hold a necessity and are not mere fabricated signs that one hopes might point the way to the message. Coomaraswamy noted that they are the thing itself; one of its aspects.

No. 28: Kill 'A' Koala Michael Van Dam -

'a sardonic view on the use of chainsaws.'

Modernity leaves us blind to these matters:

Seyyed Hossein Nasr, Traditional Islam in the Modern World, Kegan Paul International, London, 1987.

p.103

. . . the modern concept of man as being ‘free’ of Heaven, complete master of his own destiny, earth-bound but also master of the earth, oblivious to all eschatological realities which he has replaced with some future state of perfection in profane historical time, indifferent if not totally opposed to the world of the Spirit and its demands, and lacking a sense of the sacred . . .

p.106

Once the Transcendent Principle is forgotten, the world becomes a circle without a centre and this experience of the loss of the centre remains an existential reality for anyone who accepts the theses of modernism.

p.109

. . . the intellectual challenges posed by modernism in the form of evolutionism, rationalism, existentialism, agnosticism and the like . . .

The frustration is that we are left with the struggle to feel and be involved, even with all the very best intentions. We have nothing with which to encapsulate these ambitions for the works that become weak verbal references and analogies, like puns that take ideas and turn them into facts from which we are asked to discover meaning, when perception leaves us with simple, exposed, self-conscious realities to juggle into some position of relevance.

No.30: Love And Survival - Bush Stone-Curlews.

A few sculptures touch on a more simple proposition. Number 30, even with the exotic title Love And Survival – Bush Stone-Curlews by Sam Gowing, is presented as being inspired simply by the artist’s having seen a couple of birds nesting in a carpark. The sculpture is sophisticated and bright, with a colourful elegance of refinement. Yet the suggestion of something deeper seems to be a necessity; “As habitats shrink, these resilient birds adapt, embodying survival in the face of humanity’s changing environment.” The gap here is very obvious, with the end statement able to stand alone, away from the initial enthusiasm to shape the birds simply in line and colour, creating a fun, minimalist sculpture with nothing more essential than what meets and delights the eye.

No. 27: Relics.

Unlike Number 27, Relics by Jeremy Sheehan where “Five stoic forms stand like ancient sentinels evoking the earthly and otherworldly,” with the idea being that “As we look toward the stars while making our planet less habitable and our society less hospitable, questions arise around our place in a galactic ecosystem.” One sees a set of five poles with knobs and swellings. What is one supposed to do with this? Think of Star Wars or Dr. Who? One is left hanging, feeling a little obscure about being so dumb as to not experience some galactic notion of doubt; but really, where is the necessity here other than in the artist’s intentions?# Giacometti's work comes to mind before any galactic enterprise.

Alberti Giacometti.

No. 67: Migration Saint Stephens College -

'the urgent need for conservation.'

One could go on and analyse each submission, but the point seems clear enough. We need to seek out substance and meaning, its essence, so that we can truly engage with ideas embodied in form that can transform. As it is, we linger on the border of things interesting and entertaining at the very best, with the possibility being that there is some work that remains on the level of being truly trite and boring, so shallow as to be a farce.

No.74: Think Tank  Philip Darnton - 'a sense of transcendence and the sublime.'

This is not a new or personal problem; it is the concern of Modernity. One can go back over the years of Swell sculptures and see the same problem. It is not an individual issue, and is no reflection on any particular artist. It has to do with today’s society; where we are in our centre-less world. If Swell does anything, it highlights this void for us to experience and become aware of, and, if we so choose, to do something about this.

No. 9: No Colour In War Emryn Ingram-Shute -

'a message of hope to all those suffering due to war.'

No. 26: Mystic Passage.

Number 26, Mystic Passage by Mieke Van Den Berg “invites viewers to embark on a whimsical adventure.” The artist tells us that “Using recycled materials adds to the piece’s uniqueness and highlights the importance of sustainability and imaginative exploration.” We are grounded in this adventure by the sheer statement of facts rather than enlivened and enlightened by its viewing. This is the problem: a general lack of necessity and essence.

Sayyed Hossein Nasr Traditional Islam in the Modern World Kegan Paul International London 1987

p 14

If traditionalists insist on the complete opposition between  tradition and modernism, it is precisely because the very nature of modernism creates in the religious and metaphysical realms a blurred image within which half truths appear as the truth itself and the integrity of all that tradition represents is thereby compromised.

Nasr responds to the sceptics:

p.15

The traditional perspective always remembers the famous principle of Islamic philosophy, that   . . 'the non-existence of knowledge of something is not proof of its non-existence.'

One might say that there is a lack of depth in the works that interest the observer only with their difference, intrigue, and entertainment value that draw in the crowds. The situation is made clear in the way that people line up to be photographed with the work, seeking the surprising and quirky element as a context for ME to be seen with - ready for Instagram approval?*

'ME' with No.51: Anti-Gloom Portal Nicci Parry Jones and Steve Morgan -

'reconnect with joy.'

"Mmmm."

No.74: Think Tank  Philip Darnton - 'a sense of transcendence and the sublime.'

Alas, the space was occupied by a chatty father and child eating an ice cream.

Yet there is a glimmer of hope.

As one spends more time at Swell, one discovers that not all is quite the same this year. After a while one realises that the catalogue has been organised to present the sculptures in the order in which they have been displayed along the esplanade. This is a welcome change, but why is this organisation not made clear on the map, with the sequence spelt out clearly so as to make the map more useful to anyone wanting to seek out one work in particular. We had to ask where the much-promoted big bird was.

The other welcome difference is the marking of the works. It is a real pleasure to peruse the different works and have the title, the artist, and the blurb provided for the visitor to peruse high on the place marker adjacent to the work.

No.16: Sand Soldiers Joanne Adler - 'chaos and order coexist.'

One can only be pleased with these variations that do improve the exhibition, but it would be good to see some other changes too: a greater exploration of possibilities beyond the mere repetition of the same, something along the lines of Google with its ever-changing graphic play that reinforces the brand rather than impedes its promotion.

No.8: Forever For Now Charlie Trivers -

'a life form that props itself to provide actual physical and compositional balance.'

This year has seen the southern expansion of the exhibits, with fewer placed on the less accessible sand. This is a great success that makes good use of the existing walkway, adding new experiences and facilities to the ocean frontage festival with the fluttering flag avenue connecting this growth area.

No.35: Mightier (2) The Artist Trebor -

'WORDS is an anagram of SWORD . . Not everything written is true.'

Being an art exhibition with works for sale, we experience the expectation stirred up by the remarkable prices paid for ‘art’ at auctions. It is this sometimes astonishing experience that gives rise to the circular game that uses the logic that the ‘better’ the work, whatever this might entail, the more it should cost. The rationale developed from this thinking seems to support the approach that the higher the value placed on a work, the better the ‘art.’ So, for example, we get Bright Bouy on sale for $30,000. Oddly, when we visited, this inflatable form was being fixed by the artist. One wonders what lifespan/guarantee it has for $30,000. One could go on, but . . .

No. 53: Community Housing Project Claudia De salvo and Laura Cope -

'shelter and water for the little creatures.'

All is not lost. We look forward to next year. While ideas for the festival have been repeatedly put forward and ignored, one can only hope that, with these little organisational changes, bigger and braver steps will be taken in the future to surprise and enrich. The saddest concept that gets ignored is the idea for Council to add something to the area each year so that there is a lingering legacy for the Coast, a commitment to place rather than this ‘sugar burst’ each year; and one’s repeatedly envisaging ‘artworks’ in the ordinary surroundings can only prompt one to again suggest that more needs to be done in a self-conscious manner to encourage the care and development of urban space.

A bench seat.

No. 59: Hello Cockies!

#

One has to note that there are some sculptures that seem more grounded than others in their ambition. The inspiration for the sulphur crested cockatoos – Number 59, Hello Cockies! by Julie M Milton - has simply been their comical playfulness. The sculpture has no intentions beyond sharing this experience as modelled birds swaying, spinning, and swinging joyfully in the wind. Likewise, the nearby Number 57, Cocoon by John Van Der Kolk, has a similar clear intention, wanting to do no more than to explore ‘a state of suspension, delicately balanced between what is and what will be.’ Neither of these works attempts to suggest some esoteric meaning is being expressed or implied in the work. One is left experiencing just what the artist has been exploring; what is before one’s eyes, rather than what has been presented in the blurb as some applied intellectual relevance that one struggles to perceive or sense without some mental gymnastics.

No. 57: Cocoon.

No. 38: Monolith Hayden Phoenix -'

'a language of form that invites reflection on existence, memory, and our boundless inner potential.'

*

Choosing meaning

We like to say design reflects culture, but that’s only half the truth. Culture also reflects design. And the interfaces we are building today don’t just echo nihilism — they embed it, normalize it, and accelerate it. The real question isn’t whether design has agency, but whether designers are willing to own the meanings they create — or the voids they leave behind.

Part of the work is rhetorical. Designers can learn to reframe meaning as a kind of metric in itself — arguing that coherence builds retention, that conviction breeds loyalty. If the industry only speaks numbers, then one task is to translate values into that language without losing the values themselves.

If we refuse that responsibility, our interfaces will go on teaching the same lesson, swipe after swipe—that meaning itself is negotiable, optional, disposable. And the more we live inside those lessons, the more we risk losing the very capacity to imagine life beyond the abyss.

Michael Buckley

https://uxdesign.cc/contemporary-design-doesnt-just-reflect-nihilism-it-creates-it-4b8617293462