Studio project under the direction of (and perhaps to the consternation of) Francine Houben at the Harvard Graduate School of Design, Spring 2007.
This project was most recently exhibited at the International Architecture Biennale Rotterdam in 2007.
The Dutch Problem
Humans having crafted dwellings for themselves over the past couple thousand years (at least) and a smaller group who can be called "the Dutch" having done the same for hundreds of years. One wonders why the question of housing still exists. Shouldn't this be a problem which has been solved? Shouldn't, by now, every domestic plan be conceived, every diagram of public and private already drawn, every decoration of the facade given a try? Are there truly that many new problems being developed for which architects may be useful at finding solutions? Is there room in the history of housing to give it another go-- to really ask new questions?
The existential problem of defining a problem becomes even more difficult when operating in a place like Almere which has little context for the architect to respond to. Freedom, it turns out, can also be a sentence. Without history (it has not existed for very long), or physical context (it's flat), or even an abstract context (the city seems willing to bend and adapt its development plans as it seeks a hospitable condition) the problem that the architect is working on proves elusive. It's difficult to tell whether the current condition of architecture in Almere is the result of too much capital or too little context for the architects building there to respond to. With few exceptions, architects building in Almere have favored flash and ego over thought and response. The resulting Gemspace begs the question what is the question? Architecture will always be condemned to a decorative role when a problem does not exist or one is created. Precisely this conundrum is what generated OMA's successful "Block 6" with its parking mound-- given no problem OMA made a problem and then solved it.
The imperative of the dijk may be precisely what Almere needs to help inspire a little self definition. In the course of our study we have looked at what it means to build directly on the dijk, a condition which has precedents in Holland but remains an unpopular situation for a number of reasons. Playing such a critical role in defining 'dutchness' but also literally allowing the country to exist, the dijk is revered in a way that it rightfully should be. If we are to find an area of development within the fury of building which is going on in Holland (currently around 90,000 units a year) then the question of how one builds in this previously untouched context is quite interesting.
What is specific to the housing here, in Almere, and on this dijk? If the work of the studio is to be evaluated it must be on this point: what is the question? What is being answered by each architectural proposition? What, if anything, is being asked by the studio as a whole? Are there new questions being asked in these projects or are we playing Polo to Calvino's Marco-- explicating a thousand invisible cities all the same.
Zeemonster
The sea monster is a creature of ferocious might and unknown construction. Coming from the depth, but not deep itself, the sea monster is a product of superstition and shear terror. In a move of jujitsu, fear of the unknown is conquered by bundling anxiety into an iconic focal point, by manufacturing a new, more terrible, source of fear. A sea monster consolidates the various concerns of a sea-faring nation and attributes them to a central yet ambiguous source. That the monster exists can be agreed upon, but the specifics of the monster change with each telling of the story.
Taking the analog of the sea monster as a starting point, this project seeks to provoke an understanding of the extremity of the conditions in Almere. The monster is a focal point for the collective anxieties of a sea-faring nation. This project, housing that sits on top of the dijk, engenders a discussion about 'Dutchness' by challenging the (un)conventions of Dutch architecture. Asked in the brief to design an iconic building for this fledgling city, the Zeemonster is an anti-icon. It’s on the dijk when it should be behind it, it’s generic when it should be specific, it’s tall when it should be short, it’s bland when it should be extravagant.
Almere
Almere currently suffers from an overload of nice architecture. In a world of junkspace, Almere, through a process of excruciatingly careful planning, has become the opposite and the same: GEMSPACE. Without contrast the city is flat and lacking identity: a victim of its own success.
It's a veritable garden city where the residents enjoy leisure sports and easy access to the dutch landscape yet the ideal garden of Almere is actually quite a bore. With plenty of room to spread out, excellent public transit, and all the amenities of a big city there is little to provoke Almere to develop a culture of its own beyond that which has been granted to it-- the city needs a galvanizing force.
With a relatively low population to choreograph, the architectural proposal must negotiate increased density by condensing itself.... but must also maintain the main appeal of Almere which is its suburban character, the ability to have a house and a garden.