The ooey gooey hexadecimal insides of a digital file.

As we devised clever ways to interact with the streams of water running below our feet. We will need to imagine new ways to interact and benefit from the increased flow of information from our digital infrastructure. What characteristics might these interactions have?

Ever wonder what it’s like to fully operate a woodshop from home? Kurt, carpenter in Somerville, speaks to his experience of working out of his garage. We learn about the importance and trade-off between attracting customers and having enough space to produce his products; virtual marketplaces have a hidden urbanization pull, and must be addressed with appropriate urban governance.

So, just how did the shophouse go from being an unwanted remnant of colonial Singapore, to some of the most coveted buildings around? The next couple of posts will hone in on the shophouse as a product of conservation.

I am no longer a child. I desperately try to salvage sound carcasses.

From a brief history of the aesthetic project of “the wild,” a gripping story emerges.

How un-silent interactions change the identities of places.

A personal evaluation of city branding and the role of branding in cities.

In landscape restoration projects, a restored ecology and is not only functional, but an aesthetic object in the landscape, designed to be observed and engaged with: rivers are kayaked in, glades are walked through, marshes are looked out upon. Restoration emerges as an aesthetic exercise, an endeavor to (re)create an image of a past or lost wilderness.

Ever spend hours staring at the confined space of your room at home? While I am ultimately fortunate to be able to work from this cyborgian machine we call a computer, from which I can just spend my whole day in front of and with which I complete all my “incredibly valuable” tasks for society, I began to wonder what it’s like for others who might not rely on a laptop. How does the “home” transform to suit work without a laptop?

The shophouse screams “image-type” and “facadism” … so it makes for a good photo series!

What would happen if we were able to visualize and instrument cities in the same way that a biologist captures details about molecules?

I’m not ok with the Mercator projection. In fact I’m not ok with world maps.

See how I’ve started thinking about the design of my own cooking machine/robot that can make delicious Chinese food with minimal effort!

“I will remember you.”

Continuing on the concept of the “Context House”, this week’s post will delve into one of the most distinctive elements of the shophouse, and trace its movement and changing reception from Singapore to Southern China.

Having autonomy over one’s living space allows for the development of a personal design process: a hyperindividual system of logic that responds to daily rhythm.

The Great Refractor was not simply an observation device, peeking through the crevice of the roof and onto the gleams of distant stars; it was used to measure celestial movements and tell time.

The (Context) House is a well-loved trope in architecture, conveniently legitimized with tokens of archeological, anthropological or historical significance. 

The objects of Beauty and the Beast’s castle are made to serve people. Likewise, buildings are created for human occupancy – without people buildings would not exist. Yet there are millions of buildings across the United States that sit empty, perhaps feeling lonely and longing for the day in which someone walks in their doors to reawaken them with a sense of purpose.