A Dream From The Air Conditioned Nightmare

There is nothing worse than waking aggravated from a well deserved rest exhausted because you had a nightmare about the Job and Place you're exhausted from day after day. Yes. I had dreamt of work. I've had these "nightmares" as of late and it's very annoying knowing that in a few hours, I have to go back there for better or worse! The "nightmare" in question was about a telephone call I received at work ( I get these annoying customers calling our Job from time to time. It's part of the ecology of the business) about an item in our store. I stutter once from frustration and the customer turns t a complete asshole, mocking my handicap the entire conversation! You see, this is a constant issue I have to deal with every waking hour and working in a place where you have to communicate to people has a devastating effect upon me psychologically and I assume I will never be rid of it: that fear which hits you when you see the words that will eventually breakdown mid way between thought and verbalization. What's more interesting, and oddly comforting, is that birds also stutter (I saw this on the Discovery Channel)!
I get teased enough at work about it, now I have "nightmares" about it too..... It's late. I still have a few hours before work. I'll try to get some sleep.

Remembering, Now

I'm not sure about many things in Life. I suppose as one gets older some things about human nature become 'expected' while others seem to encourage mystery. I managed to survive the dawn of the 21st century and I have seen people die in car accidents, suicides, racism, wars and war mongering, a first ever Black President and on the same token a regressive Black culture. Music has hailed to the masters of old, originality and the "Cool" are things of the past, fashion is nothing more than resurgence and Architecture is now the playground of computer aestheticists. My youth has distanced itself enough for me to look at it, to relive the mistakes and paths I took, the promises broken and the dreams that have faded away. I think about my childhood friends (I wonder what they are doing now?), our house, our neighborhood in the four seasons---the best was at Christmas time, the clear winter nights where the moon made the snow look like diamonds; and the Christmas lights, and the promise of all those toys my brother and I have gotten. I realize I do not want to die. I want to see the future. I want to live to find out my true potential. There are so many questions I have. Now I just read that astronomers in Europe discovered 32 planets outside our solar system!!!

I'm not sure about many things in Life. I don't have answers... "Questions are evolutionary. Answers are History." a Rabbi once told me. "Knowledge is its own path. It has its own rules and many of us are never prepared for the destination. What happens if Man Knows? Where would His desire be?"

Observations On Architecture Pt. II

Los Angeles is a plague. A City of such poetic catastrophe and virus, such beautiful decay, such a powerful evocation of Forgetfulness, but a plague nonetheless; a city that struggles to thrive though the Post-Future Dream Machines its connected to desperately strums the threads of Fate. There is very little density to this city and I'm always amazed at how moderately anti-pedestrian its streets and public places are; how non-intuitive our urban planning and architecture, in reality, is. We fight against this public density, pushing it away, scorning it in favor of beautification (which really means the strategy of "sub-urban-izing" the City by eliminating diversity).

We tend to forget that Cities are a mass human effort that involves everyone: poor, working poor, homeless, mentally insane, working class, middle class and upper class. The more we attempt to "purify" our Cities (via implementation of wider streets for public transportation, usually at the expense of pedestrians or forcing though design, renovation and planning, the "undesirables" from its stable environments to the outskirts) we get outstanding vistas of empty streets and city views and little to no social interaction. Los Angeles doesn't know how to survive after 6pm

Its streets become hazardous and empty and viral and beautiful. Abandoned. Pockets of life will persist but the plague still slowly ravishes the body of my City. Instead of architects masturbating in digital space with design that affront the senses or catering to the ego-centric industrialist/co-operation, brand-monopoly or well-to-do, maybe we can start by re-examining our methodology and the various ways we think about the human body and its need for shelter;

starting from the psycho-economics of shelter to the social need of the built environment, to understand the various forces involved in how strangers use the built environment and the political processes that cater to institutionalizing the systems that we use to orchestrate our daily lives. Instead of endless sprawl, fenced communities and the inefficient use of transportation, maybe a programme of Proto-Urbanism---a candid view of how are Cities really function and strategies to enhance those functions through design: parking, walking, entertainment, shops, etc.,). Flaws will exist as the shift from old to young and the shift of ideologies ensue, but that's part of human nature and since Cities are fundamentally a product of human nature, it must be allowed to fail and succeed, to experiment and stabilize or disrupt and displace. If these elements are not in play, the City becomes a ghost town.

Los Angeles is a plague. A beautiful catastrophe that needs to be understood.

Seeds Of A New Urban Ecology

This is the genesis of the "Protocaust" research: a hetero-Urbanism. It's a project that will, no doubt, involve Architecture, social theory, photography and writing. I hope to make installments in the near future.

This:That

What are the romances of Humanity? What drives us to become the Beings that we are? We evolved on this great but fragile planet--Man. Woman. And the verisimilitudes that exist in-between--strive, and striving further still, to reach the heights of myth and legend; to surpass the natural boundaries of the Body itself; to become Mind.

Maybe the social systems we initiated to dictate ourselves is the "flaw" of the human condition. Maybe to understand the system is to understand the concept and praxis of Power and Predestination. In other words: authority over the masses and control over its destiny. If this is the case, then the system is a network of control to predict and modulate human behavior. Dreams, Hope, Romance, Song and Love would be anarchy to the social system's inhuman determination to modulate the human will [Once the system learns to be irrational, i.e., human, it is the End for Humanity].

Everyday I see people waiting at bus stops, hurrying to their next appointment, huddled in corners, standing in lengthy lines for food and temporary shelter, slaving away in lousy retail establishments or counting beans in air-conditioned bee hives.

How did Humanity get this way?

OBSERVATIONS ON ARCHITECTURE pt.1

It is time that Architecture realizes its position.
(1) The want of space. The need/lust for expansion is not, holistically, the venue of architecture. 'Space' is an inherent psychological state (desires, creative expressions, ego, ideology, etc.) of human nature. Space in its practical form is engineered by the virtues and vices of territorrialization: politics, economics, consumerism, commercialization, militarism, etc,.

(2) Architecture is a small but necessary part of human culture and how said culture acquires its "physicality"---Cities---which goes through a constant state of culmination, expansion and regression through the function, malfunction and mutation of human use. Cities don't function because of logic, planning and design, at least not solely on those terms, but by the imagination and circumvention of the various systems perpetrated by its pedestrians due to complexities of inclusion and exclusion and secrets; opportunities exterior to the planning process.

(3) Buildings, as a physical entity of architecture, can't solve those conditions of the 'Human State' in and of itself (I personally consider this a grave educational flaw in the study of architecture). A collaboration between the disciplines and social consensus must be met beforehand. In other words, human culture must be ready for the next step to its environmental shifts...

(4) Housing has yet to resolve homelessness.. Communities has yet to surpass Class. Urban planning has yet to resolve the conflict between ethics and politics/ economics and the human will. World views are Utopian views. Architectural design, no matter how abstract, practical or ideological. is predicated on a world view and can never account for the unpredictability of human nature. Purposes lose their meaning as different states of of culture evolves and shifts through various consequences of growth; places become abandoned or disappear from urban memory or mutates into a different function.

When confronted with a changing and challenging human world, architects need to have a grasp of multidisciplinary activities, though this position doesn't default to a plausible "End" but an understanding of the various ways humans make use of places and space.

To me, the idea of 'Public Space' does not exist in physical terms (program-form) but as an "experience". Most of what we consider public space is in reality "transitory Space" which allows for "cells" to gather, mobilize and dissipate. Corners become way-stations as well as opportunities beyond its geometries. Does the above image represent 'public space'?

As I move through the City I always ask myself: "What criteria can architecture offer towards the argument of the human condition? What are its strengths and how can we address its weaknesses? Is functionality and determinism an ethic of design or a state of enforcement?

Mulling Under Freeways

It was second year Architecture studio at Sci-Arc. 1b, Lindquist/Magar studio was a psychological roller coaster and I was eager to wrap my talents around a tangible design project. When we were settled in, in walks this tall, statuesque man with a coolness I haven't seen since the 70's (when the age of cool was fading from social memory), stalks in our company and introduced himself: Norman Millar. Studio days with him was inspiring, grueling, frustrating riddled with sleepless nights. He gave us an urban project based in a corner shopping plaza on Sunset Blvd. I remember being so happy with what I designed. We had to choose via the Iching from eight different building types to set our designs on, study them for form , logic of space and program, structure and function. Mines was based off an Morphosis project for a Japanese apartment building(if I remember correctly) they had based on a narrow lot size. The project was a Hostel/Community Service building. Teachers would stay in the hostel suites above and classroom/studios and a faculty room with offices on the lower floors with an outdoor public space/auditorium. At the time it was a lot to swallow (but as a working architect this doesn't even scratch the surface of what we have to do to get our buildings built!). Again, I was very happy with my design and a little naive. When my turn came for a desk crit, he stood back and gave a coy grin and asked me, "These spaces, will it be like standing under a freeway?" For some reason my head felt like it just exploded. He explained his reasons but he didn't have to go very far with them. Spaces to him were human, all spaces had a human value and relationship with the body and its imagination. Over exaggerated spaces become cold, impersonal and without the intimacy needed for humans to defines themselves. Scale is a very important character in architecture and we should always design what is needed first then bring in aesthetics.

Now that I'm designing project myself, I, at times, am reminded by those words. I live near the 405 freeway and sometimes I walk to Fox Hills Mall just to feel the day on my skin. At times I stand under the overpass and realized the impact of what he saw in my project and appreciate the time he took to share his criticism.

Murder In Black And White

I had a nightmare a few nights back which kept me up all morning. Two men were fighting, I don't remember if they were naked or not, but I do recall they were sweating and struggling with all their might. The older one had a pencil or a knife, I couldn't tell. The younger just had his bare hands and they were busy fending off the deadly instrument.

A girl with quiet, seductive eyes sat next to me whispering about the many ways she would rape and torture the victor in profane detail, laughing when the younger man finally weakened and the instrument went into his groin. His scream was so unbearably real that I heard it when I woke from the nightmare. I heard that scream two other times in my life. One was when I witnessed someone shooting a man at point blank range.

The scream kept reverberating though the city and it seemed every pedestrian carried the scream till it ripped their faces apart. I've never seen that much red in my life...

Just Thinking...

Why does Life seem like and endless episode of corners, bus stops and visceral intersections of familiar faces always out of time? It feels that way to me almost everyday. I have a crush on this girl, her name is Simran, and I know it doesn't make any sense, but I do. Today I ran into her on a busy crosswalk (during my common days of racing to work), actually she recognised me and called my name. Suddenly all my urgencies were aborted and the single most important thing on my mind was to go and meet her... But we just waved at each other instead till our buses came. Walking the world by yourself isn't fun anymore but if you walk too long alone, there may not be any time to change direction and you'll find yourself always waiting for the bus, or standing on corners waiting to cross the street.

Million Dollar Hotel

Between the two of us (more on her side I suspect than on mine) we decided to go to the Million Dollar Hotel. I believe there was a movie of the same name by Wenders. I think Mel Gibson stared in it. It was a beautiful idea and since we were adventuring in downtown LA, it seemed like a plan. After a day of visiting museums and exploring the city via camera and urban commentary, we arrived at the hotel. We decided to check into a room and my heart lept with excitement: this was new territory for me (and I'm sure Lily would say something similar). Our room was something of a timepiece, very 50's decor and the aura of stories waiting to be heard and visions waiting to be seen. Then Lily and I began our photographic journey: me with my Yashica-Mat and Royal 1940's typewriter, her with a brand new digital camera and her artistic sensibilities.

We traversed the hallways, stairways, people who stayed there indefinitely as well as the visitors touring through its many rooms. I let the experience settle in me, took notes along the way.

Then I discovered a way to the roof. My heart lept again. I almost couldn't contain myself. Lily on the other hand was afraid of heights. "Oh my god, I'm going to die!!" "Look. There's a ladder, see? We won't die... Just don't look down." Which we both did. The metal balcony we were on was small and you couldn't help but to look down. "It'll be alright. Let's just go." "oh my god, Efrem! I don't wanna fall!" "You won't fall. I won't let you!"

Once we made it up there, we ran and played and took pictures and I typed and we took more pictures until nightfall. Standing there on top of Downtown Los Angeles, under the neon lights with my very dear and best friend, was one of the most endearing experiences of my life. It was like discovering a new world neither of us had seen before.

I didn't want to leave.

Afterwards we went to the movies and saw "Million Dollar Hotel", ate at Johnnies Pastrami. A beautiful end to a beautiful day.

Monopoly Of Objects

I tend to fear the monopoly of Production. Maybe its our tendencies for consumption that I fear the most. As we villianize our neighbors, colonize different countries, wage wars against the weak and convert inocent peoples into wage laborers, the value of objects has slowly personified our weaknesses and frailties as human beings. The Object has become an archetype, a symbols and representation of our psyche and belief system, in that it has become a "system" and "network vehicle" for how we express ourselves. But is this right? Have we turned Objects into forms of language? Communication?

Now we have Coroperate Identities branding and labeling our "Will To Identity", telling us what to wear and what to think about and what to buy. The social shifts are staggering when you think of the excererated rate of obselence of things and ideals that once dominated our patronage; a calculated privation almost predatorial.

You see suburbanites staring in bewilderment at their garages or in their closets or at their bank statements, wondering what happened. What have I paid for? Where did all this stuff come from? It actually amazes me when my freinds and aquaintences tell me about their five warehouses of stuff they nearly fogot they had or about their closet full of shoes they only wore once because it was the fashion at that time or about their toy collection which they never opened.

People have forgotton the necessity of linits and why they are there. Yet I'm thankful to see people, at the same token, recycling (still not a major movement but as our recession hit its heights, it will become more a common practice) and giving away their "junk" and clearing the clutter from their lives---a small feat for our 21st century but the glut of our object collection continues.

Prodigy Of The Fallen

Normally my Face would serve as a valid introduction to the machines of discourse thus imbuing complete understanding of the basic nature of "Who I Am", with the agressive warnings that accompanies creatures like myself. Words, I'm afraid, will have to suffice.

It starts with the watching.

Beginning with a small pocket of space extending omnidirectionally, impregnated withe cosmic matter of all things. Sudden destruction of atomic particles releasing the Mobile Fiats traversing forbidden realms at the speed of thought---the collapse of all light then the Darkness. That is how I was born.

My name?

Dare you ask something so naive?

My Name is the face I wear: torn, beaten, stained with centuries of blood, war and disease...

Yet I Live!

My Name is a terrible immensity, a fathomless void haunting the borders of existence. How dare you ask this of me! I will, because you've made it this far on you journey, tell you this: I am the grand incarnation of Humanity's creations and am held responsible for their untimely deaths! This is the nature of the Face which you are unworthy even of its terror and eternal punishment! Your greatest crime is in the asking.

Do not hold me responsible for your future! It is in the hands you've made for yourself!

PROTOCAUST: Theories Of A Stranger World

He doubted architecture on the basis that: Constructs do not dictate future actions but present conditions. Space, place/environment and time are resolutions of current political and sociological human activities. He saw my quizical look. "Think of it this way: a door carries information as well was instruction setting a primary basis of operation. Now, think of the many times you entered said door---the unexpected locked doors, the private doors ,the ominous doors or the door that are wide open yet hinder you from entering. The concept of 'future' always fail when encountering the complexities of the human body and its behavior. This is one of the many reasons architecture fails its ideal stance; Moderism, Post-Modernism, Deconstructivism... all those buildings and places failed at some crucial point..."

I painfully remembered the 'isms' and 'ists' during my college years at Sci-Arc. He removed a sparkplug lost in an enlightened sense of facination. Then he said: "Every created thing serves a purpose." "That's a broad assertion." "As broad as the human mind, son. Everything that exists solves a problem and not all solutions are appropriate for everyone. Your ancestors knew this as well as mine in Germany." "But wouldn't that imply created things are tools?"

"If you look at the world as one big machine, maybe. I just hate refferencing the human condition in those terms, there are always alienating consequences that occur..." "So Man has replaced his Image with an Idol?" "It's an old habit. Our century has made advances that makes it easier to accept. We all have our idols and our objects of devotion."

The subject is vast but not without enlightenment. It exists between the realms of alter states of theology and the urban consciousness. It is the adventure of rooms, doors and hallways; the chance encounters with faces that roam the night through alleys and bars and on the corners. Threads are constantly woven. It is a billion eyes longing for paradise. It is who we fail to become and what we journey to Be (and always our wars). It is the City and its double, the mobility of urbanism through memory and remeberance; the experiement of what it means to be Human and th joys and evils to which we stand and fall. It is the romance of Desire, an Invisible Sun.