the MOONROOMHow I came so far I don’t know. I wander. I’m a wanderer. No I’m not a wanderer, I’m a thinker but I get lost easily. I have walked this forest many times and I’m lost again. I need to rest. I need a place to mute my mind. Its dark now and my legs are getting soft. I walk slower and slower. This dark blue hue with moving shadows and invisible sounds is getting more vibrant with each new step. I need a place to lay my weary body and rest. I keep walking and I’m lost. There it is, again. I don’t know who put it there and for what purpose. This uncertainty burdens my mind more and more. There it hovers, in darkness, mimicking the moon. The door is open. At least, that is what I endlessly have concluded. Somehow I know it was built for me. It’s always me, the moon and this floating room. But I’m tired and I need a place to breathe without fear. There I stand again, in front of the door, looking at the handle. There are two doors on each side. They are identical. How then am I supposed to choose? I don’t know who built this but I know it’s for me. I blink in hope to reset my mind but it’s no use. I’m lost and I need a place to rest. The door is open. As it always has been….. by p-851 architecture READ MORE click HERE.
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the MOONROOM

How I came so far I don’t know. I wander. I’m a wanderer. No I’m not a wanderer, I’m a thinker but I get lost easily. I have walked this forest many times and I’m lost again. I need to rest. I need a place to mute my mind. Its dark now and my legs are getting soft. I walk slower and slower. This dark blue hue with moving shadows and invisible sounds is getting more vibrant with each new step. I need a place to lay my weary body and rest. I keep walking and I’m lost. There it is, again. I don’t know who put it there and for what purpose. This uncertainty burdens my mind more and more. There it hovers, in darkness, mimicking the moon.

The door is open. At least, that is what I endlessly have concluded. Somehow I know it was built for me. It’s always me, the moon and this floating room. But I’m tired and I need a place to breathe without fear. There I stand again, in front of the door, looking at the handle. There are two doors on each side. They are identical. How then am I supposed to choose? I don’t know who built this but I know it’s for me. I blink in hope to reset my mind but it’s no use. I’m lost and I need a place to rest. The door is open. As it always has been…..

by p-851 architecture READ MORE click HERE.

Crooked Tree In the forest, there was a crooked tree and a straight tree. Every day, the straight tree would say to the crooked tree, “Look at me…I’m tall, and I’m straight, and I’m handsome. Look at you…you’re all crooked and bent over. No one wants to look at you.” And they grew up in that forest together. And then one day the loggers came, and they saw the crooked tree and the straight tree, and they said, “Just cut the straight trees and leave the rest.” So the loggers turned all the straight trees into lumber and toothpicks and paper. And the crooked tree is still there, growing stronger and stranger every day. text: Tom Waits       photograph by:Jean-Baptiste Mondino
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Crooked Tree

In the forest, there was a crooked tree and a straight tree. Every day, the straight tree would say to the crooked tree, “Look at me…I’m tall, and I’m straight, and I’m handsome. Look at you…you’re all crooked and bent over. No one wants to look at you.” And they grew up in that forest together. And then one day the loggers came, and they saw the crooked tree and the straight tree, and they said, “Just cut the straight trees and leave the rest.” So the loggers turned all the straight trees into lumber and toothpicks and paper. And the crooked tree is still there, growing stronger and stranger every day.

text: Tom Waits       photograph by:Jean-Baptiste Mondino

Shelter of Fears I do not believe the house is a safe place. For me, it is a collision of dream, nightmare and circumstance: a portrait of an inner life. The primal shelter is also the site of primal fears. Its interiors are a map of the conscious and the unconscious: of their securities and insecurities. There is danger in the house. Closets, hallways, stairways, doors and windows, attics, basements, eaves and cabinets expand and contract with fear and desire. They are the night side of the house, in which the identity and security of domestic life is symbolically tested: they form another realm where daily life is displaced, condensed, fragmented. Within every contented home there resides the house that anxiety built and buried to counterbalance the security of the known self. text: Anne Troutman (essay Inside Fear)project: p-851 architecture, The man who was never alone 
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Shelter of Fears

I do not believe the house is a safe place. For me, it is a collision of dream, nightmare and circumstance: a portrait of an inner life. The primal shelter is also the site of primal fears. Its interiors are a map of the conscious and the unconscious: of their securities and insecurities. There is danger in the house. Closets, hallways, stairways, doors and windows, attics, basements, eaves and cabinets expand and contract with fear and desire. They are the night side of the house, in which the identity and security of domestic life is symbolically tested: they form another realm where daily life is displaced, condensed, fragmented. Within every contented home there resides the house that anxiety built and buried to counterbalance the security of the known self.

text: Anne Troutman (essay Inside Fear)
project: p-851 architecture, The man who was never alone 

Dissecting The reading Column consists of 2 walls of books and a rocking chair. Corresponding with the two brainhalfs the books on the left side are science books and the ones on the right are poetry books. These books are covered with an identical metal cover and are immersed in the wall. This makes it possible to climb up the books to find a book, in pitch darkness the inhabitant must rely on his memory. On the backside the books are connected with cables and pullies, the books are automatically pulled back in their original spot. The chosen book is first pulled through a hook on the floor and then locked to the reading/rocking chair. This exoskelet like reading chair is a rocking chair that generates electricity by moving. Reading a book becomes a process of constant dissecting of the material. The chair also has a waste bin for faeces and another one for storing and recirculation urine. By choice one can fully merge with the reading/rocking chair and transcend the physical world. project by p-851 architecture, The reading-rocking chair, from project -The man who was never alone
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Dissecting

The reading Column consists of 2 walls of books and a rocking chair. Corresponding with the two brainhalfs the books on the left side are science books and the ones on the right are poetry books. These books are covered with an identical metal cover and are immersed in the wall. This makes it possible to climb up the books to find a book, in pitch darkness the inhabitant must rely on his memory. On the backside the books are connected with cables and pullies, the books are automatically pulled back in their original spot. The chosen book is first pulled through a hook on the floor and then locked to the reading/rocking chair. This exoskelet like reading chair is a rocking chair that generates electricity by moving. Reading a book becomes a process of constant dissecting of the material. The chair also has a waste bin for faeces and another one for storing and recirculation urine. By choice one can fully merge with the reading/rocking chair and transcend the physical world.

project by p-851 architecture, The reading-rocking chair, from project -The man who was never alone

Deep Shadows Deep shadows and darkness are essential, because they dim the sharpness of vision, make depth and distance ambiguous, and invite unconscious peripheral vision and tactile fantasy.How much more mysterious and inviting is the street of an old town with its altering realms of darkness and light than are the brightly and evenly lit streets of today! The imagination and daydreaming are stimulated by dim light and shadow. In order to think clearly, the sharpness of vision has to be suppressed, for thoughts travel with an absent-minded and unfocused gaze.Homogeneous bright light paralyses the imagination in the same way that homogenization of space weakens the experience of being, and wipes away the sense of place. The human eye is most perfectly tuned for twillight rather than bright daylight. text: Juhani Pallasmaa, The eyes of the skinphotograph: Francesco Ferruccio Leiss, Night photography of a Venetian street 1950
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Deep Shadows

Deep shadows and darkness are essential, because they dim the sharpness of vision, make depth and distance ambiguous, and invite unconscious peripheral vision and tactile fantasy.
How much more mysterious and inviting is the street of an old town with its altering realms of darkness and light than are the brightly and evenly lit streets of today! The imagination and daydreaming are stimulated by dim light and shadow. In order to think clearly, the sharpness of vision has to be suppressed, for thoughts travel with an absent-minded and unfocused gaze.
Homogeneous bright light paralyses the imagination in the same way that homogenization of space weakens the experience of being, and wipes away the sense of place. The human eye is most perfectly tuned for twillight rather than bright daylight.

text: Juhani Pallasmaa, The eyes of the skin
photograph: Francesco Ferruccio Leiss, Night photography of a Venetian street 1950

Seperation “A human being is a part of the whole called by us universe, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feeling as something separated from the rest, a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.” text: Albert Einsteindrawing: Lebeus Woods, housepet
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Seperation

“A human being is a part of the whole called by us universe, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feeling as something separated from the rest, a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.”

text: Albert Einstein
drawing: Lebeus Woods, housepet

Dark Water There is a dark resource within all of us, a reservoir of hurt and pain and anger upon which we can draw when the need arises. Most of us rarely, if ever, have to delve too deeply into it. That is as it should be, because dipping into it costs and you lose a little of yourself each time, a small part of all that is good and honorable and decent about you. Each time you use it you have to go a little deeper, a little further down into the blackness. Strange creatures move through its depths, illuminated by a burning light from within and fueled only by the desire to survive and to kill. The danger in diving into that pool, in drinking from that dark water, is that one day you may submerge yourself so deeply that you can never find the surface again. Give in to it and you’re lost forever. text: John Connolly, The Killing Kind 
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Dark Water

There is a dark resource within all of us, a reservoir of hurt and pain and anger upon which we can draw when the need arises. Most of us rarely, if ever, have to delve too deeply into it. That is as it should be, because dipping into it costs and you lose a little of yourself each time, a small part of all that is good and honorable and decent about you. Each time you use it you have to go a little deeper, a little further down into the blackness. Strange creatures move through its depths, illuminated by a burning light from within and fueled only by the desire to survive and to kill. The danger in diving into that pool, in drinking from that dark water, is that one day you may submerge yourself so deeply that you can never find the surface again. Give in to it and you’re lost forever.

text: John Connolly, The Killing Kind
 

Symbol-machines The only beauty that Duchamp is interested in is the beauty of “indifference”: a beauty free at last from the notion of beauty…The figures Kafka, De Chirico, and others take their inspiration from the human body; those of Duchamp are mechanical devices and their humanity is not corporeal. They are machines without vestiges of humanity, and yet, their function is more sexual than mechanical, more symbolic than sexual. They are ideas or, better still, relations -in the phyiscal sense, and also in the sexual and linguistic; they are propositions and, by virtue of the law of meta-irony, counter proposition. They are symbol-machines. text: Octavio Paz, Appearance stripped bare 1978photograph: Marcel Duchamp & “Bicycle Wheel”, October 1965. 
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Symbol-machines

The only beauty that Duchamp is interested in is the beauty of “indifference”: a beauty free at last from the notion of beauty…The figures Kafka, De Chirico, and others take their inspiration from the human body; those of Duchamp are mechanical devices and their humanity is not corporeal. They are machines without vestiges of humanity, and yet, their function is more sexual than mechanical, more symbolic than sexual. They are ideas or, better still, relations -in the phyiscal sense, and also in the sexual and linguistic; they are propositions and, by virtue of the law of meta-irony, counter proposition. They are symbol-machines.

text: Octavio Paz, Appearance stripped bare 1978
photograph: Marcel Duchamp & “Bicycle Wheel”, October 1965.
 

Painful landscape The feelings that hurt most, the emotions that sting most, are those that are absurd; the longing for impossible things, precisely because they are impossible; nostalgia for what never was; the desire for what could have been; regret over not being someone else; dissatisfaction with the world’s existence. All these half-tones of the soul’s consciousness create in us a painful landscape, an eternal sunset of what we are.” text: Fernando Pessoa, The book of disquietphotograph: The Great Man’s Lady (1942, dir. William A. Wellman)
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Painful landscape

The feelings that hurt most, the emotions that sting most, are those that are absurd; the longing for impossible things, precisely because they are impossible; nostalgia for what never was; the desire for what could have been; regret over not being someone else; dissatisfaction with the world’s existence. All these half-tones of the soul’s consciousness create in us a painful landscape, an eternal sunset of what we are.”

text: Fernando Pessoa, The book of disquiet
photograph: The Great Man’s Lady (1942, dir. William A. Wellman)


Monstrosity  Don J.A. ordered all the furniture, tapestries, books and paintings that suggested the outside world taken out of the houses at La Rinconada; nothing was to stir a longing in his son for what he was never to know. He also had all the outside doors and windows walled up, except one door, the key to which he kept. The mansion was converted into a hollow, sealed shell consisting of a series of empty rooms, corridors and passageways, into a limbo of walls facing only the inner courts, where he gave orders to uproot the classic orange trees with their golden fruit, the bougainvilleas, the blue hydrangeas, the rows of lilies, replacing them with bushes trimmed into strict geometric forms that disguised their natural exuberance. … Don J.A. saw to all these details, because nothing around Boy must be ugly, mean or ignoble. Ugliness is one thing. But monstrosity is something else again, something of a significance that was equal but antithetical to the significance of beauty and, as such, it merited similar prerogatives. text: Jose Donoso,The obscene bird of night.Photograph: Old brewery Berlin, photographed by okaitis
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Monstrosity 

Don J.A. ordered all the furniture, tapestries, books and paintings that suggested the outside world taken out of the houses at La Rinconada; nothing was to stir a longing in his son for what he was never to know. He also had all the outside doors and windows walled up, except one door, the key to which he kept. The mansion was converted into a hollow, sealed shell consisting of a series of empty rooms, corridors and passageways, into a limbo of walls facing only the inner courts, where he gave orders to uproot the classic orange trees with their golden fruit, the bougainvilleas, the blue hydrangeas, the rows of lilies, replacing them with bushes trimmed into strict geometric forms that disguised their natural exuberance. …

Don J.A. saw to all these details, because nothing around Boy must be ugly, mean or ignoble. Ugliness is one thing. But monstrosity is something else again, something of a significance that was equal but antithetical to the significance of beauty and, as such, it merited similar prerogatives.

text: Jose Donoso,The obscene bird of night.
Photograph: Old brewery Berlin, photographed by okaitis