Really just an extension of what I presented to Yui.
Studio model at one end, House model at the other, blocks of wood in between representing the smells along the path to the studio.
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.
Original concept = path to my studio, containing my own sky
At night as 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 path by the scents in the air and know where I am.
The house no longer exists in my vision, but I still catch the faint fragrant smells of food that we sat around the dinning table to eat.
As I walk further though I can only smell the fresh scent of the night air. This is when the sky is clear, between the house and the studio, 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.
So, invisible architecture with 'my own sky'...
A garden path, an oasis in the city.This path takes you from the city street, through your home and finally to a space of contemplation and thinking.
At one end is domesticity with concerns of everyday living, at the other is the studio, a place of contemplation, practice, thinking.
The path connects these 2 spaces, winding through from one to the other, presenting the scents of the architecture and nature along the way.
The path is not lit so you rely more heavily on your memory of where to move, this memory is enhanced by the smells along the path.
The scents in the air tell you where you are if you cannot see.
The smells of everyday life, the fireplace the cooking smells become less apparent as you close the living room door behind you.
You walk past the smells of basil and mint, thyme and citrus from the kitchen garden near the dining room.
Past the bedroom blocks with the strong smell of cedar cladding, the mortar in the path here is scented with lavender, a calming sleepy smell.
Past the bathroom with the slight sensation of steamy air and fragrances from showering.
The path is still warm from the sun, and a soft scent of rose water wafts up here just before the door to the outside.
By now, the noises and smells of everyday life are slipping behind you and your concentration is just on navigating the path in the dark - the darkness concentrates the light coming from above with the stars and moon and city lights.
You open this door and immediately feel the change in temperature and smells, the sky, your own sky is above you. Away from domestic life but not yet at your destination.
You are in limbo alone with your own thoughts and you feel more sharply the absence of a sheltering roof so your eye is drawn up to the sky. Your own sky.
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