Der Aufzug ist verspiegelt, auch Decke und Boden. Türen öffnen sich in Zeitlupe, die Suite breitet sich aus. Keine Möbel. Sitzgelegenheiten, Flächen und Regale sind Teil der Raumes, der über verschiedene Ebenen um ein zentrales Atrium geflossen zu sein scheint. Alle horizontalen Kanten sind abgerundet, Intarsien in allen Flächen sind mit honigfarbenem Kunstleder bezogen. Warm Leatherette, gedämpftes Licht, weißes Furnier, dunkler Teppich. Niemand war je hier, nur die Reinungsfirma. Alles ist klinisch sauber.
Wenige Schritte bis zur Bar. Sie öffnet sich lautlos, vermutlich hydraulisch. Elaborierte Patisserie mit lackierten Oberflächen ist einzeln in Plastikfolie verpackt und fünfundvierzig Grad ausgerichtet. Rechts im Atrium: Lilien, violettes Licht. Links führt eine Treppe ohne Geländer auf das Mezzanin. Oben ist neben der Sofalandschaft eine Musikanlage in der Wand verbaut. Das Tray des vertikal eingebauten CD-Players öffnet sich: Jennifer Cardini – Tuesday Paranoia.
14 years after my first house, I keep drawing iterations of it, over and over, as an obsession. though they’re always different, they’re different so that they’re always the same (to resist being defined by their location). We always draw the same house, for the same person – under various pseudonyms – as if the idea were set in stone, like also Rossi says: without ever letting myself be distracted by useless people or things, in the belief that progress in art and science depends on such continuity and constancy, which are the only means of achieving renewal.
In the face of increasing complexity, we are more than ever in need of a system of thought that that is capable of simplifying without mutilating. When reality resists simplification, we have to turn to complexity. Complexity is the eruption of the disorder of the random and of uncertainty in the reality […] We all know that the future is unpredictable today, given the perpetual intervention of the new and the unexpected. And it is for that very reason that extreme complexity has a tendency to resemble a permanent crisis.
Frei Otto’s silent membrane and steel slopes woven into the grassy hills of Olympiapark are reminders of an optimistic time, of the idea that opposites could meet through the measured hand of engineering and design. An industrialized culture remembering its origins, the signifiers of which are never far in Bavaria. Organic spiderwebs made from steel and glass and concrete mimic the valleys and woods that were left behind.
While there is elegance to the engineering, and the optics are pleasing, the structures never achieve their goal of appearing unforced and natural. The park and its architecture appear sculpted without context. In an attempt to create something like nature, a sanitized spirit of nature, the sheer amount of force applied by its creators remains perceptible. Where the Japanese practiced bowing and weaving with the leaves and shrubs and moss for centuries, the germans knew only execution. All plans executed, all goals achieved.
Clothes as metaphysical objects, examined from two distinct angles. Groundwork towards a theory of my lifelong fascination.
The aesthetic perspective is rooted in communication. Garments of considered proportions and construction promise desireable narratives, ressources for cognitive dissonance, encapsulated, architectural, modular mini-worlds to place inside your reality. While escapistic in some sense, the aesthetic angle faces outwards, reflecting the world.
The fetishistic perspective is an entirely pragmatic one. Its fascination lies in the item as artefact, the detailed aspects of its construction and finishing. It aims to study obsessively, to examine every aspect of the object at hand, the imagineable universe around its constructive qualities. The fetishistic angle faces inwards, it concentrates on the object and the lessons it teaches.