Installation = very simple, relies heavily on non-visual elements.
Studio model at one end, House model at the other, blocks of wood in between representing the smells along the path to the studio.
- pine closest to the house contains vanilla, Worcestershire sauce, sesame oil (dinner)
- kanuka blocks next
- a larger piece of pine with a fresh scent of peppermint to represent the pause in my walk, the middle place where I experience my own sky, the fresh scent of night air in the forest
- next are fresher, younger pieces of pine and macrocarpa, teatree that are in our woodshed next to the studio
- the studio itself smells like the fresh burnt smell of laser cut MDF (model making)
To me, some of the most important elements of architecture are those we cannot see - the things we're often not even aware of like sensing the size of a space and it's materials and temperature. Smell is our most basic sense and one that is not usually associated with architecture.
But it is the one that can conjure up the most powerful involuntary recollections of a place, and the emotions associated with that image.
We can close our eyes and put our hands over our ears but we cannot stop breathing.
Smell enters our body in a breath.
Interviews with blind people highlight the importance of these nonvisual ingredients; one of the most basic is smell.
The path to my studio contains my own sky.
At night I leave our house, after cooking and eating dinner, to walk the path to my studio to work. Our house is nestled down in a valley with trees and birds as our neighbours. There are no street lights or city glow, no city noise.
I leave the house behind me, closing the door, leaving the clatter of dinner dishes, sounds of TV and chatter of my family.
As I walk the path I am in limbo between my domestic life and my student life.
With each step closer to my studio, the smells of cooking waft away to be replaced with the velvety night air with it's fresh smell.
Its dark so my other senses are not distracted by vision, though the night sky and stars start to glow as I move away from the lights of the house.
I could navigate this paths by the scents in the air.
The house no longer exists in my vision, but I still catch the faint fragrant smells of maybe vanilla, ginger, sesame, lemon, or smoked paprika from the meal we sat around the dinning table to eat.
As I walk further though I can only smell the fresh scent of the night air in the trees and perhaps a hint of smoke from our fire.
This is the point between the house and studio,
when the trees clear,
when I'm not a mother, a partner, a daughter, but not yet a student or worker,
I am just me.
This is the time when I always look up at and I drink in the sky, my own sky.
I can't quite see the studio yet but I know it's close, I can smell the wood stacked up next to it. The macrocarpa and pine, tea tree, these smells conjure up images of our lounge with this wood stacked next to our fireplace, my family sitting watching the fire with cups of tea.
Climbing the steps to my studio, I turn the door handle with an aroma of old brass and enter to the smells of a freshly laser cut model.
Video link for presentation
http://www.youtube.com/watch?list=PLxhrp3iLzEuAU_fDrtmdeeWNIZPTsxIXd&v=YAmZ9RXA0E8&feature=player_embedded