Where Writing Builds

An edited entry for Architecture Foundation UK’s 2022 Writing Competition

Based on a question posed by J. Newstadt - Thank you so much for the wonderful prompt that has sparked this piece!



“So which do you prefer? Writing or Architecture?”

The space was filled with a complete minute of silence when my colleague posed this question to me. Having giddily shared my freelance writing during idle moments at work, my colleague humoured me with a challenging prompt. To choose between writing or architecture initially felt like a demand to choose my favourite child. Although, after some considered thought and nervous energy, it came down to seeing writing as my driver to design. After all, witnessing how writing has functioned as a vessel towards my final year – it wasn’t too hard to understand how I have clung so tightly to my pen and paper, crafting a sculpture or space in a landscape of words.

 

Writing, to me has always been my method of communication (hence the catalysing of this blog). Growing up, I lived in-between various fantastical worlds and illusions through countless children’s picture books that included Shaun Tan, and Graeme Base, which eventually evolved into short stories and fiction. Simple cover art and selective vocabulary used to ignite an image within as I read were magical, and eventually encouraged me to embrace the development of my own imagination.

 

And so, the application of visual storytelling gradually found itself in my own architectural practice. From writing and drawing my own collection of illustrations and poetry or short stories, I soon realise the craft it takes to shape the surroundings of our atmosphere. It didn’t take me long to develop an admiration for the efforts a film production (that also includes set designers, costume designers, producers, actors, etc.) would go through to achieve the realism and believability of the worlds we see on our screens. It would be ignorant for us to not acknowledge the resources that can be a combination of photographs, illustrations and writing that has aided them in achieving the effect. Additionally, it would be a miss if we don’t consider that these resources are often found in historical accounts, journal entries and possibly theoretical accounts – which majority of the time are encapsulated in visual and written forms.

 

Thus, given that the world and setting we see in these adaptations and novels we read are successfully established by those who are not in the realm of architecture – then perhaps we cannot deny that the written language can confidently function as a mechanism for architecture.

 

As architects, we are often tasked to establish convincing imagery to argue for the vision we have for our clients. From writing stories that require an appetising setting to now writing architecture reviews to envelop architecture enthusiasts – I’ve experienced what the power of writing can do. Writing invites time to ponder and develop our thoughts – which enriches our communication and presentation with a wide audience. Sometimes it engages with our readers’ other senses beyond sight. Sometimes, we can expound upon the principles and philosophies we have read or studied. Writing becomes a mind map that questions whether what we desire to verbalise can be transcribed in a coherent sense. Like how certain audiences depend on gallery descriptions to accompany the artwork, writing is a companion to our architectural ideas when the presenter is absent.

 

The way I see it, writing is a thread throughout the production and methodical approach within architecture. Often, we’d like to begin our vision and context with a narrative before shaping it through and through. Should we refer to the famed and classical texts from the likes of Le Corbusier, Rem Koolhaas, and even Denise Scott Brown, these architects use writing as a mechanism to exercise if not test their ideas. The field of text becomes a working material for future architecture students to reference, understand and challenge the plausibility of their thoughts that would be seen in their own architectural works.  

RE: Reflect - 2018 - Final Project and Poems can be found here

This should explain as to why we are often encouraged to explore and dissect the theories written by the great ‘starchitects’ of the past. As two of my beloved mentors have said to me ‘when you are writing, you are writing a thought’, writing in architecture and about architecture provides the opportunity to edit our thoughts altogether. Thinking back to my years of studying architecture, my writing evolved from being an accompaniment to my final outcomes to becoming the main mechanism for my overall outcome. Where my project was focused on the atmosphere and appealing to the senses, I sculpted my space with words. I envisioned the design, which is a space for mourning, to be developed by a series of poems that documents grief, compassion fatigue and guilt. The series of words established the walls, heights of ceilings and the open field of mazes – all formed because of the way I have built in my writing. 

 

“When you are writing, you are writing a thought”

Having said that, it is important that we should see writing in architecture as a reflection of the times. Thoughts preserved in texts are paper architecture yet to be realised as tangible materials. For instance, the highly regarded topic ‘house of the future’ that is drawn in diagrams and texts of what it could be is now manifested into various forms of technology. Where gender bias was evident in the theories documented in the past, writing gave us an opportunity for us to expound and reframe our visions today, ensuring that our standards provide an even playing field for everyone (which we still have a long way to go). 

 

To return to the original question of between writing and architecture – which is the one I prefer? Perhaps I would argue that I prefer writing as the beginning of shaping my architectural visions as it is a crucial device in my professional practice.  On some days it’s a playground for thought, and some days it’s a foundation for speech, and on some days it’s for reflection. An important yet encompassing tool for my design development.


Related works: Re: Reflect (2018); The Narrator That Shaped Architecture (2016); Blank Space Fairy Tale Competition - a collaboration with Rebecca Li (2020)

Notes:


This entry is written on the lands of the Wurundjeri Country of the Eastern Kulin Nation.