Monthly Archives: March 2016

A Thousand Miles: For the Seeing, Nomadic Folk

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by Alexis X.A. Roberts

IMG_6340“I think that a strong sense of identity is like an ideology: You anchor something, when you’re feeling slightly at sea, by coming back to that place.” – Penny Martin

8,212 miles away from his homeland of Taiwan, Hsu-Jen Huang has chosen Savannah, Georgia as his anchor, but those who know him understand that he remains on the go. The words on this screen aren’t the only evidence, for Hsu-Jen has the passport stamps, photographs and FB posts to prove it. Beyond his love of architecture and photography, the ever smiling but seriously gifted guru is able to hang with the best of urban storytellers. A Thousand Miles is his visual curation of landmarks from his wanderings.

IMG_6341Stories bring meaning into our lives. They indicate how and why we understand ourselves in the manner that we do. It matters not whether these tales are scripted, drawn or spoken in nature, the true significance is found when we pass them on. In light of this, it stands to reason that we constantly add to and share our stories with others. Fastened to the walls of Eichberg Hall’s second floor hallway are fragments of such stories. They are pieces of Hsu-Jen’s history. Many of us seek to make the world a more beautiful place but few of us actually stop to record the beauty that already exists within it. Makers like Hsu-Jen, however, though in motion, often take time to document both natural and urban worlds.

Perhaps he is a true nomad. During studio hours you’d have better luck finding Hsu-Jen wandering between studios dropping small gems of knowledge than inside the partitioned walls of his own studio space. For those more familiar with his role as professor of architecture, it may be surprising to learn that it is outside the walls of the institution that he is most creative. The wanderer’s path is his true makerspace. It is a studio in nonstop transformation. Ever-changing cityscapes provide the perfect backdrops and focal points for his work. Despite a seemingly essentialist approach, his sketches continue to move and inspire both students and colleagues alike. Although they may feature intentional markings, Hsu-Jen’s work never lacks personality or feeling; an accurate reflection of the man behind the brush and pen.

For the most creative individuals among us- meaning those who’ve discovered and developed their craft- life must remain an adventure; almost decidedly so.  Growth in an ingenious field requires quite a bit of exploration, spontaneity and in some cases bravery. The same rings loud and true for Hsu-Jen. Anyone who has taken Hybrid Media or has been on the Hong Kong Immersion Trip with Hsu-Jen can attest to that. Working under Hsu-Jen is a collaborative experience that stresses the importance of seeking new techniques and experimental modes of visual communication. This is how we expand and thus refine our toolkit; how we gauge who we are. The result of such exploration is evidenced in A Thousand Miles.

“Sometimes the ones who have sight are the blindest.” R. Fenty

Many moments are featured here and countless others line Hsu-Jen’s sketchbooks. However, he shows few signs of slowing his travels or artistic output. In an increasingly technological field governed by deadlines, there are those who argue against the significance of this art form. The sheer craftsmanship and skill needed for such work is not the only justification for graphic recording, but it should serve to remind us to look up. It is never too early to see the world around us. We may all view it from our own perspectives but, we can express this through a common language if we choose to do so. Having the ability to see cannot not rival the gift of sight beyond the surface, but pausing to sketch forces us to engage our senses. It allows us to introduce ourselves to local and foreign characters; to interpret living environments at work. Some creatives search their memories and souls to reflect the happenings of their past but this immediate confrontation changes one’s output and perspective in a contrasting way.

Nature is a life-changing concept. Learning places and more importantly people, is something different altogether. Artists of the urban landscape give insight into the worlds and systems they capture; making for some incredible ethnographic offerings. A Thousand Miles is a visual journal but conversations with the artist reveal it to be something far greater than a collection of building perspectives and hours of mark making. Hsu-Jen sketches to check in with his extra-sensory self. Our resident urban explorer doesn’t simply hop from region to region. By truly immersing himself within new surroundings, he experiences the raw nature of place. There are layers of complexity to the built world and those who remain solely transient don’t allow themselves to consider the work before and around them. If you take one thing away with you after viewing Miles, let it be the admonition to pause, look, listen, smell and when appropriate, touch. This exhibition and conversations around it indicate that some of us are paying attention.

We have all heard the arguments over the death of hand work within the current world of architecture. Has it lost its value in favour of the modern machine? Will the young be given the opportunity to appreciate it?  What of the relationship between artist and his toolkit; mankind and his built works? Sketching as a way of seeing has shifted over time but, its ability to inspire remains constant. There are many reasons to believe that its prominence will return. Many of us continue our personal search for the meaning in our lives. Life is indeed a process; the journey we take to do great things, to settle down and eventually to die. For the creative, this journey is one of continued change. Never complete or officially mastered, each experience darkens or lightens the overall image. What stories will we leave behind?

Pinned to these walls are captured moments, pieces of time and parts of Hsu-Jen’s own personal journey; parts of him but apart from him. Unafraid of a little grit or colour, each stroke emits a wild but somehow experienced measure. They possess a certain structure yet own their ghostlike rhythm. Though confined to the surface of the canvas, it seems this is where Hsu-Jen is most free. This is work for the seeing, nomadic folk but, also for those who aspire to be.

Alexis X.A. Roberts is a currently pursuing his M.F.A in Design for Sustainability at SCAD and recently graduated with his M.Arch in 2015 from SCAD’s School of Architecture.

I Am Not Going To Be An Architect.

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by Ragon DickardArchitect Student

I have spent the past three years of my life studying architecture. Three years of pretending that “I’m definitely not going to need to pull an all-nighter tonight.” Three years of gluing tiny paper columns to tiny paper buildings, clicking through Archdaily articles, and wondering how many imaginary people should realistically be hanging out in imaginary gathering spaces. Three years of hard work, hard study, and wait-I-forgot-my-physical models, and I am not going to be an Architect.

That’s right, I will be getting my undergraduate degree in architecture and, unless something drastic happens, am not going to be an architect… or an interior designer, an urban planner, or a sustainability consultant. During the long schooling process, I made the very important discovery that I am not interested in pursuing a career in this field. The building arts field just doesn’t light my fire, and it hasn’t from the start. And that’s okay, I desperately tell myself as I hear students anxiously comparing internship applications and grad school plans. It’s okay if at any point, now or in the future, you find that you are straying from the path of the building arts, because you’ve collected some pretty valuable tools along the way. An architecture education provides much deeper skills than just designing and presenting buildings.

“Less is more,” is one of the first architectural concepts taught in Intro to Architecture, and is one of the furthest reaching. The phrase has grown so well known that it precedes even the person who uttered it. Recognizing the value of minimalism allows us to design buildings that are more practical, economical, and (at least right now) more stylish. Beyond design, the concept of minimalism can be applied to how we work, by teaching us to put more effort into fewer concepts. It is the idea of quality over quantity, which is easily translatable to a variety of fields of work. It is also a lesson in how to live our lives. Fewer distractions mean greater speed, concentration, and quality of work. Fewer, more significant possessions means less room needed to store them, less money going to corporate giants, less items filling landfills in the future, and greater appreciation of what possessions remain. Minimalism stems from design and feeds into allowing us to be better, faster, and happier contributors to the world.

“We do not design in a vacuum” has been constantly reiterated throughout my architectural education. I have learned through the process of designing buildings and spaces that there are forces beyond myself that effect me and that I am in turn affecting. Not only do we need to be aware of ways that we can manipulate design to serve a purpose of whatever kind, but we learn to be aware of our unintended consequences on the world through design, art, and action. We need to be aware that our courtyard designs could discourage crime, strengthen a community and get people to stop and smell the roses, but they can also direct polluted water to the ocean, encourage social stratifications, or eliminate an animal’s habitat. This lesson stretches beyond architectural design to our everyday lives, we find that everything we do has an immediate and not-so-immediate effect on other people, other animals, and becomes a part of history. Architectural design has taught me to educate myself on my effect on the world so that I can strive for as positive an impact as possible.

“Nothing you do should be arbitrary,” is told to architecture students constantly through their schooling. Their instructors are repeatedly asking “Why?” Why is your building shaped that way? Why is it facing that way? Why did you choose that material? If the answer is “I don’t know,” or “I didn’t really think about it,” then you’ve done yourself and your design a disservice. Every choice made in architecture is a very expensive, and potentially dangerous, choice. So building arts students are pushed to consider every facet of their designs and to be able to manipulate those facets to create a comprehensive whole. Even outside of the field, the ability to objectively question your choices and analyze their impact on the whole work is indispensible. It’s what makes great works of literature so successful; every detail serves a greater purpose in the story. It’s a skill used in business, painting, songwriting, branding, and editing. If the details are sloppy and inconsistent, the whole does not have the desired effect. Learning to design a successful building is learning to create a relatable overall experience through manipulation of details.

“Do more than just architecture,” does not mean to me to do “architecture with a capital A” or include elements of other building arts fields in my design work. Doing more than just architecture means that all art forms are linked. It means that architecture becomes a space to highlight the sound of music, to make a painting shine, or to frame a dancer’s gliding pirouette. It means that powerful films like Metropolis look to monumentality in architecture as a means of representing the social striations of the imagined future. It means that Frank Lloyd Wright did not just design homes and office buildings but also chairs, door knobs, and patterns. To study architecture is to learn a multi-purpose design process that can apply to any creative field, art or otherwise.

I majored in architecture, and now I can feel my life drifting down a different path. But I’m not a failure, and I haven’t wasted four years. Yes, I was obviously taught very building arts specific skills and knowledge, like how HVAC systems work, the nominal and actual sizes of lumber, and which way egress doors should definitely not be drawn (swinging in.) Maybe this information will be useful outside of the field, or maybe not. But an architectural education also teaches more unique skills than just general art and design, although I have learned InDesign, hand sketching, and the value of craftsmanship. More general than just buildings, more specific than just art, getting a degree in Architecture has provided me with a unique understanding of the world around me and how I affect it. So don’t be disappointed or afraid if you feel yourself desiring to become an entrepreneur, filmmaker, politician, or dog/emu trainer. It’s all a part of the journey.

And you’ll definitely never forget to draw your north arrow.

Ragon Dickard is a terrific Senior at the SCAD School of Architecture. (Architecture lost her, but the world wins her. SCAD says, “You’re welcome, World.”)