With the nine year thick glass that is directed upon this project, I see an autobiography. That wasn’t the intent; but, honest portraits are made when we are not looking for them. What I see is that architecture matters; it shapes us and how we exist in the world. I grew up in a glass house—the design of my architect father. I inhabited the visual shade that walls, trees and furniture provided. I navigated the changing paths of privacy defined by ambiguous and immaterial boundaries. I saw that where the self begins and ends is immaterial and not the limits of our bodies. Dream House incorporates a geometry that evolved out of visual shadow and shade. Like a film of fireworks run backwards—seemingly random sparks converge, with intention, on their source—one moves through the exploded geometry of the house; its found source is the blind-spot.* The design is defined by cones of vision. Walls materialized to intersect these views…vaults were thrown along their projections. The house is organized around a central stair that takes one from space to space, “room” to “room,” along a path of visual shade. One enters the house through a blink, takes a bath in fuse with the all. One can travel the invisible path from drawing-out (studio) to deep sleep dream (bedroom), to insomnia (library), to the pineal gland of the house (t.v. room). A blind-spot is buried in the core of the house where a 12” diameter lens refracts the light from outside into an image on the “stairwell’s” wall. The interior surfaces are prepared frescos of the dreams of the inhabitant. Dream Drawings are 250 watercolors of dreams I had during a two year period of living in Rome. Ten of these were printed as postcards and were distributed in postcard racks in Barcelona, Spain; Athens, Greece; Rome, Italy; Lisbon, Portugal; Bombay, India Bangkok, Thailand; Ruta, Bali; Aukland, New Zealand and Singapore, Singapore. A house is a blind-spot where images are possible. All of this is quite literal. *Is there a memory of a seed pod in the arrangement of wildflowers in a meadow? |