Point: Theories

As I have gone through these past two weeks of school I have begun to truly understand what it means to be a designer. In order to be a good designer you need to have a vast knowledge of people, and how they interact with and use their environment. Through work in both studio and this class I have learned that everything that is built or designed is made to fit a human purpose. Man is not only the measurer of all things, but he also shapes all things in his environment to his purpose.

Sir Henry Wooton may not have been the philosopher that Plato was, but he did know a thing or two about architecture. Wooton taught us to always design with the end in mind. This forces us to imagine people moving around the building going about their business. By doing this, we can prevent tragedies such as the collapsing of the glass bridge in the hotel mentioned in our readings. Thus by keeping commodity, firmness, and delight in the forefront of our minds while we design, we cannot only build a beautiful space, but a safe one.

I think of commodity, firmness, and delight every time I walk into the bathroom in my dorm, and how much I wish the architect thought of these when he drew the plan. The order of this room is all wrong. When you first go in there are the stalls, then the sinks, and then the showers. So you constantly have to back track after using the toilet. This bathroom is not functional, and thus not enjoyable.

Speaking of enjoyable, I learned a lot about myself as a person and a designer when I read de Botton’s An Architecture of Happiness. A few things struck me when I read this, but I really saw when he spoke about those individuals who “… are content to lie on the floor tracing the knotted border of an intricate Turkoman rug…” I immediately thought, “that sounds like me.” Where ever I go I take pictures of things that interest me. For example, I recently took a picture of an antique Singer sewing machine. What really stuck out to me was the artistry that went into creating such an intricate design, and the pristine condition of the paint made it pop off of the black metal of the machine. As I continued reading the quote de Botton went on to say “… then they will know something about patience and stability, tenderness and sweetness, intelligence and worldliness, skepticism and trust…”

When I read this I thought two things: One being “I hope so,” and the other being how my best friend Andrew embodied all of these qualities almost perfectly. I have been thinking of him a lot lately. I guess now would be the time to bring my other de Botton quote into play. “We may need to have made an indelible mark on our lives… or lost a loved one before architecture can begin to have any perceptible impact on us… it is in dialog with pain that many beautiful things acquire their value,” (pg.9-10).

Before Andrew’s death I had always been fascinated by intricate patterns, as seen on the sewing machine. It wasn’t until after his death that I gained a true appreciation for things of simplicity: clean lines, simple form, etc. This can be seen in the pot from my last exercise. Though simple in form, the complexity of the ideas behind its shape gives this pot, like many things, a new meaning.