Showing posts with label Thinking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Thinking. Show all posts

Sunday, June 9, 2019

Storming of Venice

"Anonymous" people visiting "Famous" pavilions [*]
Photomontage: Nacym Baghli, 2018
Source/Photos: Instagram
Storming of Venice
(time to?)
Introduction
.......
We aim to bring the light to both anonymous architecture and architects. To this end, we have initiated a process of reflection and action.
The idea is simple and coherent at the same time: instead of having "famous" pavilions visited by anonymous people, we will (for once) have anonymous pavilions visited by "famous" people.
For this purpose, we will use the repressed spaces of Venice: the floating cemetery of San Michele, the mainland of Mestre and the sequenced beaches of the Lido. (sketch below)
To better understand the whole reflection process (still ongoing), please take a look on the texts below, including a letter we wrote more than a year ago to Paolo Baratta on this subject.
We obviously invite everyone to take part of this "temporary and ephemeral" Storming of Venice for the next biennales (and triennales), it is time to!
Our objective also, in the same vein as this one, is to obtain (finally) a first participation of our country Algeria in the Venice architecture Biennale. Project already attempted in the past by some actors and personal initiatives (including us), but in vain. It's time for that too!
.......
N&S Baghli


Learning from Denise
Philadelphia, June 28th, 2019
Signed book - Philadelphia, Oct. 30th, 2014
Robert Venturi & Denise Scott Brown
Photo: Nacym Baghli
Dear Nacym and Sihem,

Thank you so much for your message.
Your comments about the inclusion of “anonymous architecture” and the ordinary fits with our own ideas of the vernacular.
You are taking the underdog’s side against “starified and (over)mediatized architecture” but I think the fight for the ordinary is a worthy cause.
I salute your effort and the extraordinary work you are doing for your country and Venice.

Warmly,

Denise Scott Brown

Read our tribute to Denise here >>



Network
.......
Dear all,
Hope you are doing well.
We wanted to share this important issue with you.
We want to bring Anonymous Architecture (and thereby Anonymous Architects) to the biennale in a kind of a temporary/ephemeral ‘Storming of Venice’.
No matter in 2020, 2022, or 20xx.
We believe this is crucial for the survival of architecture as a whole, critical, consistent and coherent.
We hope you would join us into the AA collective to contribute to this project and vision in the way that seems most appropriate to you.
As a reminder, AA - Anonymous Architecture - constitutes 99,99% of the global built (and unbuilt) heritage, and therefore, 99,99% of Architects remain Anonymous.
They will never have any visibility, their architecture neither. Never ever.
It is time to give them the floor, and the ‘image’.

For this, we recently sent a letter to Mr. Paolo Baratta, the president of La Biennale di Venezia, to explain our approach and deep concern vis-à-vis the turn that are taking biennales and triennales of architecture nowadays.
Please read it below (in both langages: english and french)
(the letter is now public since June 9th, 2019)

More information to come.
Please let us know if you had any question or suggestion regarding this.
All the best,
.......
Nacym & Sihem Baghli
Architects
AA Collective [Algiers]
May 29th, 2018

.......
[*] Location: Swiss Pavilion at La Biennale di Venezia
FREESPACE: 16th International Architecture Exhibition 
.......
Issues
United Colors (Minds) of Venice
On Critical Architecture today...
La Pensée Unique ?

.......
Hashtags



"Storming of Venice" Project
Sketch: Nacym Baghli, 2019
Text in the introduction (above)
Letter from a COUPLE
of ARCHITECTS
to Mr. Paolo Baratta
President of La Biennale di Venezia
Algiers - May 27th, 2018
[EN]

Dear Paolo Baratta,

We are (re)writing to you today to share with you an innovative approach that we are planning for the next architectural biennale in Venice, in 20xx.
It reflects many of our current concerns, including the invisibility and silence surrounding ordinary, invisible, architecture, which we refer to here as anonymous architecture.
This is a major concern for us, both intellectually and formally.

Indeed, this anonymous architecture, which represents 99.99% of our built environment, our cities and our countryside, and yet serves as the backdrop and foundation for barely 0.01% of visible architecture, must in our opinion finally be revealed, with dignity, to the public at large.
It is nothing more than a "takeover" of the media space that we consider legitimate and necessary, albeit temporary, for the one that has always carried and wrapped in a case the starified and (over)mediatized architecture that we all know.
In the current trends where we fortunately see the emergence of movements in the wake of gender equality such as Me too, We too, and Voices of women,... to name but a few; it seems important and timely to us today that a movement of the kind of AA (for Anonymous Architecture) is emerging soon, inexorably.
Anonymous architecture, very real, is carried by these men and women whose names and faces are unknown, but who, however, actively contribute to the construction of tomorrow's architectural heritage.
They constitute the very matrix of it.
We must pay tribute to them.

So, we asked ourselves, what better opportunity than the Venice Biennale to serve as a megaphone and a critical and intelligent receiver/receptacle for this project?
We remain convinced that such an event will set a precedent in the profession and in the discipline, both in terms of content and form.
This will generate a strong interest for the media, the general public, academics and professionals. A new angle of view will be proposed to them.
The benefits will, in our opinion, be so significant that we expect a paradigm shift at the end of this process.

We would be, (we are!), quite willing to take up this immense and noble challenge for 20xx, after your agreement, of course, and with your precious support.
Be careful, this exceptional edition (a special edition biennial?) will not be about putting names and faces on a distinction or prize.
It will be a question of highlighting, for once, the common sense (apparent or hidden) of a collective, the modest and resonant imagination of a group, the common and sober creativity of a neighbourhood, the daily initiatives of a local community, the ordinary madness of a city, or, quite simply, the consecration of banality in this anonymous architecture, the very one that represents and embodies the 99.99% (built or not), and which is carried by the silent majority of women and men, both architects and anonymous.
Our ambition is to restore the image of the banal, the ordinary, of this anonymous architecture so that it no longer carries this heavy burden, this negative connotation with a pejorative impact.
The emergence and highlighting of anonymous architecture seems to us to be crucial, even fundamental.

Precisely and in this regard, after the exceptional and masterly "Fundamentals", AA will now set the tone (donner le La) for young critical minds and future generations of architects insofar as it will stimulate a new and unprecedented reflection and approach in our relationship to everyday architecture. De facto, another report, this time dispassionate and demystified, will reveal itself in the face of mediatized architecture. Balance.

We, a collective of architects of various nationalities, representing all continents, filled with this humanist and universalist spirit, want to finally give voice (and image) to these thousands of anonymous architects who contribute, throughout the world, each in their own way and culture, to the construction of the cities and countryside of today and tomorrow.

Mister President of La Biennale di Venezia,
We would be extremely pleased and honoured to meet with you to further share with you our project and vision for this temporary and ephemeral "takeover" on your biennial, with your good consent, of course.

A reversal (of the situation) and a critical, peaceful and much needed questioning of Architecture. This is our ambition.

Yours sincerely,

Nacym & Sihem Baghli
Architects



The Golden Lion awarded to Anonymous Architects
Biennale Architettura 20xx
Photomontage: Nacym Baghli, 2018
Lettre d'un COUPLE d'ARCHITECTES
à Mr Paolo Baratta
Président de La Biennale di Venezia
Alger - 27 mai 2018
[FR]

Cher Paolo Baratta,

Nous vous (ré)écrivons aujourd’hui afin de vous faire part d’une démarche inédite que nous imaginons pour la prochaine biennale d’architecture à Venise, en 20xx.
Elle traduit plusieurs de nos préoccupations actuelles, dont notamment celle relative à l’invisibilité et au silence pesant entourant l’architecture ordinaire, invisible, que nous appelons ici architecture anonyme.
C’est une préoccupation majeure pour nous, tant intellectuelle que formelle.

En effet, cette architecture anonyme qui représente 99,99 % de notre cadre bâti, de nos villes et de nos campagnes, et qui sert pourtant de trame de fond et d’assise pour à peine 0,01 % de l’architecture visible ; elle se doit à notre avis d’être enfin révélée, dignement, au grand jour et au grand public.
Il ne s’agit, ni plus ni moins que d’une « prise de pouvoir » de l’espace médiatique que nous considérons légitime et nécessaire, certes temporaire, pour celle qui a porté depuis toujours et enveloppé dans un écrin l’architecture starifiée et (sur)médiatisée que nous connaissons tous.
Dans les tendances et courants actuels où l’on voit heureusement émerger des mouvements dans le sillage du combat pour l'Égalité des sexes tels que : "Me too", "We too", et "Voices Of Women" (la voix des femmes),… pour ne citer que ceux-là ; il nous semble important et opportun aujourd’hui qu’un mouvement de la sorte, tel que AA (pour Architecture Anonyme) voie incessamment le jour, inexorablement.
L'architecture anonyme, bien réelle, est portée par ces femmes et ces hommes dont on ne connait ni les noms, ni les visages, mais qui, pourtant, contribuent activement à la construction du patrimoine architectural de demain. Ils en constituent la matrice même.
Nous nous devons de leur rendre hommage.

Alors, nous nous sommes demandés, quelle plus belle occasion que la biennale de Venise pour servir de porte-voix et de récipient/réceptacle critique et intelligent à ce projet ?!
Nous restons convaincus qu’un tel événement constituera un précédent dans la profession et dans la discipline, tant par le fond que par la forme.
Cela suscitera un intérêt certain pour les médias, le grand public, les académiques et les professionnels. Un nouvel angle de vue leur sera proposé.
Les retombées seront, à notre avis, tellement importantes que nous escomptons bien un changement de paradigme au terme de ce processus.

Nous serions, (nous sommes !), tout à fait disposés à relever cet immense et noble défi pour 20xx, après votre accord, bien sûr, et avec votre précieux soutien.
Attention, il ne s’agira pas dans cette exceptionnelle édition (une biennale Hors-Série ?) de mettre des noms et des visages sur une distinction ou un prix.
Il s’agira bien de mettre en avant, une fois n’est pas coutume, le bon sens (apparent ou caché) d’un collectif, l’imaginaire modeste et résonné d’un groupe, la créativité commune et sobre d’un quartier, les initiatives quotidiennes d’une collectivité locale, la folie ordinaire d'une ville, ou, tout simplement, la consécration de la banalité dans cette architecture anonyme, celle-là même qui représente et incarne les 99,99 % (construite ou pas), et qui est portée par la majorité silencieuse de femmes et d'hommes, architectes et anonymes à la fois.
Nous ambitionnons bien à travers notre démarche de redorer le blason du banal, de l’ordinaire, de cette architecture anonyme afin qu’elle ne porte plus ce lourd fardeau, cette connotation négative à portée péjorative.
L’émergence et la mise en lumière de l’Architecture Anonyme nous semble capitale, voire fondamentale.

Justement et à ce propos, après l’exceptionnel et magistral « Fundamentals », AA donnera désormais le « La » pour les jeunes esprits critiques et futures générations d’architectes dans la mesure où elle suscitera une nouvelle réflexion et approche, inédites, dans notre rapport à l’architecture de tous les jours. De facto, un autre rapport, dépassionné et démystifié cette fois-ci, se révélera face à l’architecture médiatisée. L’équilibre.

Nous, collectif d’architectes de diverses nationalités, représentant tous les continents, emplis de cet esprit humaniste et universaliste, voulons donner enfin la parole (et l’image) à ces milliers d’architectes anonymes qui contribuent, de par le monde, chacun à sa façon et dans sa culture, à la construction des villes et campagnes d'aujourd’hui et de demain.

Monsieur le Président de La Biennale di Venezia,
Nous serions extrêmement ravis et honorés de vous rencontrer afin de vous faire davantage part de notre projet et de notre vision quant à cette « prise de pouvoir » temporaire et éphémère sur votre biennale, avec votre bon consentement, bien entendu.

Un renversement (de situation) et une remise en question critique, pacifique et ô combien nécessaire pour l’Architecture. Telle est notre ambition.

Bien à vous,

Nacym & Sihem Baghli
Architectes

.......
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Thursday, September 3, 2015

- = + ?

- = + ?
Vintage Sketch, 1994 (Rapidograph)
© Nacym Baghli Architects
#LessIsMore

Yet do much less, so much less, Someone says,
(I know his name, no matter)--so much less!
Well, - = +, Lucrezia: I am judged.

Excerpt from "Andrea des Sarto"
Poem by Robert Browning (1812-1889)
-Lines 76-78



Andrea del Sarto
(Called "The Faultless Painter")
1885

But do not let us quarrel any more,
No, my Lucrezia; bear with me for once:
Sit down and all shall happen as you wish.
You turn your face, but does it bring your heart?
I'll work then for your friend's friend, never fear,
Treat his own subject after his own way,
Fix his own time, accept too his own price,
And shut the money into this small hand
When next it takes mine. Will it? tenderly?
Oh, I'll content him,--but to-morrow, Love!
I often am much wearier than you think,
This evening more than usual, and it seems
As if--forgive now--should you let me sit
Here by the window with your hand in mine
And look a half-hour forth on Fiesole,
Both of one mind, as married people use,
Quietly, quietly the evening through,
I might get up to-morrow to my work
Cheerful and fresh as ever. Let us try.
To-morrow, how you shall be glad for this!
Your soft hand is a woman of itself,
And mine the man's bared breast she curls inside.
Don't count the time lost, neither; you must serve
For each of the five pictures we require:
It saves a model. So! keep looking so--
My serpentining beauty, rounds on rounds!
--How could you ever prick those perfect ears,
Even to put the pearl there! oh, so sweet--
My face, my moon, my everybody's moon,
Which everybody looks on and calls his,
And, I suppose, is looked on by in turn,
While she looks--no one's: very dear, no less.
You smile? why, there's my picture ready made,
There's what we painters call our harmony!
A common greyness silvers everything,--
All in a twilight, you and I alike
--You, at the point of your first pride in me
(That's gone you know),--but I, at every point;
My youth, my hope, my art, being all toned down
To yonder sober pleasant Fiesole.
There's the bell clinking from the chapel-top;
That length of convent-wall across the way
Holds the trees safer, huddled more inside;
The last monk leaves the garden; days decrease,
And autumn grows, autumn in everything.
Eh? the whole seems to fall into a shape
As if I saw alike my work and self
And all that I was born to be and do,
A twilight-piece. Love, we are in God's hand.
How strange now, looks the life he makes us lead;
So free we seem, so fettered fast we are!
I feel he laid the fetter: let it lie!
This chamber for example--turn your head--
All that's behind us! You don't understand
Nor care to understand about my art,
But you can hear at least when people speak:
And that cartoon, the second from the door
--It is the thing, Love! so such things should be--
Behold Madonna!--I am bold to say.
I can do with my pencil what I know,
What I see, what at bottom of my heart
I wish for, if I ever wish so deep--
Do easily, too--when I say, perfectly,
I do not boast, perhaps: yourself are judge,
Who listened to the Legate's talk last week,
And just as much they used to say in France.
At any rate 'tis easy, all of it!
No sketches first, no studies, that's long past:
I do what many dream of, all their lives,
--Dream? strive to do, and agonize to do,
And fail in doing. I could count twenty such
On twice your fingers, and not leave this town,
Who strive--you don't know how the others strive
To paint a little thing like that you smeared
Carelessly passing with your robes afloat,--

Yet do much less, so much less, Someone says,
(I know his name, no matter)--so much less!
Well, - = +, Lucrezia: I am judged.

There burns a truer light of God in them,
In their vexed beating stuffed and stopped-up brain,
Heart, or whate'er else, than goes on to prompt
This low-pulsed forthright craftsman's hand of mine.
Their works drop groundward, but themselves, I know,
Reach many a time a heaven that's shut to me,
Enter and take their place there sure enough,
Though they come back and cannot tell the world.
My works are nearer heaven, but I sit here.
The sudden blood of these men! at a word--
Praise them, it boils, or blame them, it boils too.
I, painting from myself and to myself,
Know what I do, am unmoved by men's blame
Or their praise either. Somebody remarks
Morello's outline there is wrongly traced,
His hue mistaken; what of that? or else,
Rightly traced and well ordered; what of that?
Speak as they please, what does the mountain care?
Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp,
Or what's a heaven for? All is silver-grey,
Placid and perfect with my art: the worse!
I know both what I want and what might gain,
And yet how profitless to know, to sigh
"Had I been two, another and myself,
"Our head would have o'erlooked the world!" No doubt.
Yonder's a work now, of that famous youth
The Urbinate who died five years ago.
('Tis copied, George Vasari sent it me.)
Well, I can fancy how he did it all,
Pouring his soul, with kings and popes to see,
Reaching, that heaven might so replenish him,
Above and through his art--for it gives way;
That arm is wrongly put--and there again--
A fault to pardon in the drawing's lines,
Its body, so to speak: its soul is right,
He means right--that, a child may understand.
Still, what an arm! and I could alter it:
But all the play, the insight and the stretch--
(Out of me, out of me! And wherefore out?
Had you enjoined them on me, given me soul,
We might have risen to Rafael, I and you!
Nay, Love, you did give all I asked, I think--
More than I merit, yes, by many times.
But had you--oh, with the same perfect brow,
And perfect eyes, and more than perfect mouth,
And the low voice my soul hears, as a bird
The fowler's pipe, and follows to the snare--
Had you, with these the same, but brought a mind!
Some women do so. Had the mouth there urged
"God and the glory! never care for gain.
"The present by the future, what is that?
"Live for fame, side by side with Agnolo!
"Rafael is waiting: up to God, all three!"
I might have done it for you. So it seems:
Perhaps not. All is as God over-rules.
Beside, incentives come from the soul's self;
The rest avail not. Why do I need you?
What wife had Rafael, or has Agnolo?
In this world, who can do a thing, will not;
And who would do it, cannot, I perceive:
Yet the will's somewhat--somewhat, too, the power--
And thus we half-men struggle. At the end,
God, I conclude, compensates, punishes.
'Tis safer for me, if the award be strict,
That I am something underrated here,
Poor this long while, despised, to speak the truth.
I dared not, do you know, leave home all day,
For fear of chancing on the Paris lords.
The best is when they pass and look aside;
But they speak sometimes; I must bear it all.
Well may they speak! That Francis, that first time,
And that long festal year at Fontainebleau!
I surely then could sometimes leave the ground,
Put on the glory, Rafael's daily wear,
In that humane great monarch's golden look,--
One finger in his beard or twisted curl
Over his mouth's good mark that made the smile,
One arm about my shoulder, round my neck,
The jingle of his gold chain in my ear,
I painting proudly with his breath on me,
All his court round him, seeing with his eyes,
Such frank French eyes, and such a fire of souls
Profuse, my hand kept plying by those hearts,--
And, best of all, this, this, this face beyond,
This in the background, waiting on my work,
To crown the issue with a last reward!
A good time, was it not, my kingly days?
And had you not grown restless... but I know--
'Tis done and past: 'twas right, my instinct said:
Too live the life grew, golden and not grey,
And I'm the weak-eyed bat no sun should tempt
Out of the grange whose four walls make his world.
How could it end in any other way?
You called me, and I came home to your heart.
The triumph was--to reach and stay there; since
I reached it ere the triumph, what is lost?
Let my hands frame your face in your hair's gold,
You beautiful Lucrezia that are mine!
"Rafael did this, Andrea painted that;
"The Roman's is the better when you pray,
"But still the other's Virgin was his wife--"
Men will excuse me. I am glad to judge
Both pictures in your presence; clearer grows
My better fortune, I resolve to think.
For, do you know, Lucrezia, as God lives,
Said one day Agnolo, his very self,
To Rafael . . . I have known it all these years . . .
(When the young man was flaming out his thoughts
Upon a palace-wall for Rome to see,
Too lifted up in heart because of it)
"Friend, there's a certain sorry little scrub
"Goes up and down our Florence, none cares how,
"Who, were he set to plan and execute
"As you are, pricked on by your popes and kings,
"Would bring the sweat into that brow of yours!"
To Rafael's!--And indeed the arm is wrong.
I hardly dare . . . yet, only you to see,
Give the chalk here--quick, thus, the line should go!
Ay, but the soul! he's Rafael! rub it out!
Still, all I care for, if he spoke the truth,
(What he? why, who but Michel Agnolo?
Do you forget already words like those?)
If really there was such a chance, so lost,--
Is, whether you're--not grateful--but more pleased.
Well, let me think so. And you smile indeed!
This hour has been an hour! Another smile?
If you would sit thus by me every night
I should work better, do you comprehend?
I mean that I should earn more, give you more.
See, it is settled dusk now; there's a star;
Morello's gone, the watch-lights show the wall,
The cue-owls speak the name we call them by.
Come from the window, love,--come in, at last,
Inside the melancholy little house
We built to be so gay with. God is just.
King Francis may forgive me: oft at nights
When I look up from painting, eyes tired out,
The walls become illumined, brick from brick
Distinct, instead of mortar, fierce bright gold,
That gold of his I did cement them with!
Let us but love each other. Must you go?
That Cousin here again? he waits outside?
Must see you--you, and not with me? Those loans?
More gaming debts to pay? you smiled for that?
Well, let smiles buy me! have you more to spend?
While hand and eye and something of a heart
Are left me, work's my ware, and what's it worth?
I'll pay my fancy. Only let me sit
The grey remainder of the evening out,
Idle, you call it, and muse perfectly
How I could paint, were I but back in France,
One picture, just one more--the Virgin's face,
Not yours this time! I want you at my side
To hear them--that is, Michel Agnolo--
Judge all I do and tell you of its worth.
Will you? To-morrow, satisfy your friend.
I take the subjects for his corridor,
Finish the portrait out of hand--there, there,
And throw him in another thing or two
If he demurs; the whole should prove enough
To pay for this same Cousin's freak. Beside,
What's better and what's all I care about,
Get you the thirteen scudi for the ruff!
Love, does that please you? Ah, but what does he,
The Cousin! what does he to please you more?

I am grown peaceful as old age to-night.
I regret little, I would change still less.
Since there my past life lies, why alter it?
The very wrong to Francis!--it is true
I took his coin, was tempted and complied,
And built this house and sinned, and all is said.
My father and my mother died of want.
Well, had I riches of my own? you see
How one gets rich! Let each one bear his lot.
They were born poor, lived poor, and poor they died:
And I have laboured somewhat in my time
And not been paid profusely. Some good son
Paint my two hundred pictures--let him try!
No doubt, there's something strikes a balance. Yes,
You loved me quite enough. it seems to-night.
This must suffice me here. What would one have?
In heaven, perhaps, new chances, one more chance--
Four great walls in the New Jerusalem,
Meted on each side by the angel's reed,
For Leonard, Rafael, Agnolo and me
To cover--the three first without a wife,
While I have mine! So--still they overcome
Because there's still Lucrezia,--as I choose.

Again the Cousin's whistle! Go, my Love.

-------
Source:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Andrea_del_Sarto_(poem)
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Browning