Where do art and architecture depart, differ, diverge?
While architecture is indeed art it does not have the same agenda as art. The above project from Beijing seems to attempt to prove that if artists (read: Yayoi Kusama) can create mesmerising spatial art by throwing around with dots and mirror balls then so can architects – but in so doing ends up emphasising nothing other than exactly the objectives that set art and architecture apart. And while we can feel sorry for the people who have to live in this building, we can also – as critics of art and architecture – be grateful for and reflect upon this building as an example of what architecture is not. Below are a couple of images of Kusama’s spaces to which SAKO Architects seem to owe more than a lot:
One can only guess but it seems safe to say that this facility holds such architectural merit not because of it’s audience (of which there would be next to none) but because of it’s function; such a solemn mission demands an equally monumental physical presence:
The Svalbard Global Seed Vault is a secure seedbank located on the Norwegian island of Spitsbergen near the town of Longyearbyen in the remote Arctic Svalbard archipelago.[1] The facility was established to preserve a wide variety of plant seeds from locations worldwide in an underground cavern. The seed vault holds duplicate samples, or “spare” copies, of seeds held in genebanks worldwide. The seed vault will provide insurance against the loss of seeds in genebanks, as well as a refuge for seeds in the case of large scale regional or global crises. The island of Spitsbergen is about 1,300 kilometres (810 mi) from the North Pole.
The seedbank is constructed 120 metres (390 ft) inside a sandstone mountain at Svalbard on Spitsbergen Island. The bank employs a number of robust security systems. Seeds are packaged in special four-ply packets and heat sealed to exclude moisture. The facility is managed by the Nordic Genetic Resource Center, though there are no permanent staff on-site.
Spitsbergen was considered ideal due to its lack of tectonic activity and its permafrost, which will aid preservation. The location 130 metres (430 ft) above sea level will ensure that the site remains dry even if the icecaps melt. Locally mined coal provides power for refrigeration units that further cool the seeds to the internationally-recommended standard −18 °C (0 °F). Even if the equipment fails, at least several weeks will elapse before the temperature rises to the −3 °C (30 °F) of the surrounding sandstone bedrock.
via Svalbard Global Seed Vault – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.
[Image: Geoglyphs of nowhere].
In the desert 100 miles northeast of Los Angeles is a suburb abandoned in advance of itself—the unfinished extension of a place called California City. Visible from above now are a series of badly paved streets carved into the dust and gravel, like some peculiarly American response to the Nazca Lines (or even the labyrinth at Chartres cathedral). The uninhabited street plan has become an abstract geoglyph—unintentional land art visible from airplanes—not a thriving community at all.
The unwitting parallel to Coober Pedy is striking
The town [Coober Pedy] is known as the opal capital of the world because of the quantity of precious opals that are mined there. It is also famous for most of the residents living below ground, mostly in old mines refurbished, due to the scorching daytime heat. [Wikipedia]
- for all we know (sitting up here in a satelite), and with reference to Coober Pedy, this California City could be inhabited: we couldn’t possibly tell….so similar in form but for completely different reasons yielding completely different content.
Slightly reminiscent of James Turrell’s lighting effects and Andy Goldsworthy’s nature settings – but nonetheless entirely unique; enigmatic and haunting
Is this image of a playground really the environment we want our children to grow up in? This super-sanitisation of visual stimulation in the name of “purity of form” cannot possibly engage childrens imagination. The children, it seems, exist in this space merely to provide the self-reinforcing contrast – in both colour and form – to the minimalistic vocabulary of the room. This room is not for the children – the children are for the room. If this is the so-called “didactic relation to real life” which is promoted here then I pity the children…
© Domagoj Blazevic
The children and staff premises are completely intertwined. This typological innovation mirrors a series of didactic relations. A child can see a woman typing on a computer, the other ones counting money, sewing linen or cooking their meal. There is a man who receives the new goods, the other ones control the heating or repair the furniture. Walking down “The Children Street” and seeing all the professions lined up left and right – like an everyday situation in the city. An introduction to the real life.
via Medo Brundo Kindergarten / njiric+ arhitekti | ArchDaily.
