Category: Life

Attention is all we need

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What our brains can learn from our buildings?

“Attention is the thing we offer, that we owe most to the world we live in… I do find it the regulatory ideal. I mean attention as a bodily and political act, not just an intellectual discipline. That form of attentiveness but writ large and political.” – Katherine Rundell 

  1. INTRO: 

Philosophy is an activity of climbing a ladder, reaching the top and noticing the ladder has disappeared so that one wonders at the existence of the world.  -Ludwig Wittgenstein.

Have our new computational tools brought us to a Promethean moment whereby everything must change?

Computing technology permeates every aspect of our lives. Digital-based data-collection devices managed by AI-based machines run almost all human creations, from large pervasive infrastructures such as utility grids to indiscernible systems such as body implants. Knowledge and information are defined in terms of data. Power is a function of automation and predictive processing machines seems to drive every major decision, whether in a corporate board room or on a congressional pulpit. 

Recent histories detailing the string of innovations leading to our current AI revolution identify 2017 as the breakthrough year. In November of that year, a gang of Google researchers published an article entitled “Attention is All We Need,” They presented a novel form of computing called self-attention. Their paper argued for a language-based model of learning that processed entire sentences at once instead of reading text word by word. The number of possible connections encoded by this breakthrough caused a massive jump in comprehension. 

The self-attention transformer, as it was called, could leapfrog a linear approach to language comprehension and arrive at a multivariable understanding of language. The transformer captured context and patterns better by generating text more accurately. With selfattention, the transformer computed all the words in a sentence at the same time. This simultaneous processing occasioned computers that were faster to train not only because of their efficiency and ability to scale but because they captured context in an entirely new way. 

Self-attention rests on a holistic understand of relationships between words. The transformer expanded comprehension beyond sentence boundaries creating a model of attention that afforded greater understanding of how and when a word is being used. The computational breakthrough marked a new way of seeing context.

The democratization of knowledge sparked by the internet and powerful microprocessors turned a new corner with the software understanding occasioned by self-attention. Computers were in effect given a new way to see. 

Self-attention represents a new stage of seeing, understanding, and processing information in the information age. The effects have been enormous. Fields adjacent and even unrelated to technology, such as medicine, energy and finance are applying this processing framework with remarkable developments at frightening speeds. 

The real sway of AI and its generative intelligence-based understanding of the world lies beyond language. The transformer models can recognize and predict any repeating motifs or patterns. From pixels in an image, using tools such as Dall-E, Mid-journey, and Stable Diffusion, to computer code using generators like GitHub Copilot. Software applications fashioned on self-attention transformation are predicting notes in music and designing drugs with novel proteins strands. Self-attention, suggests that in seeing context differently we can speculate on the present-future with greater accuracy.

The promethean fire emanating form these technological breakthroughs burns bright and fierce. There is no cure to progress for their dangers, as Benjamin Labbatut has written, are intrinsic. The ambivalence of application rests on human engagement. 

The debates surrounding AI and generative intelligence have centered on the reasonable challenge of control and regulation. A few observers have questioned the definition of human intelligence. Does the third industrial revolution beckon a new way of reinterpreting the human mind? Could the emergence of a potential sentient machine be the moment to rethink how we understand our brains and conceive of our ability to perceive our surroundings? 

Neuroscientists are finding that our brains think through space. We remember and regulate information by creating cognitive maps. Our built environment is not only a container for our bodies but an active participant in how our brains function. As such, our brains are deeply connected to our built environment. 

The cells in our minds, such as the hippocampus, subiculum, and entorhinal cortex process information through cognitive mapping. Boundaries, directional flow, and locational points provide our minds a scaffolding-like understanding of space which in turn serve as cognitive structures to organize other mental facilities such as language and spatial relationships. 

Architecture works in tandem with our brains. The concepts suggested by our built environment are not independent of our engagement with space. In fact, our built environment is only completed once occupied. Numerous recent books on the neuroscience of navigation such as Michael Bonds’, “From Here to There,” document medical breakthroughs utilizing MRI scans that demonstrate how our brains employ spatial approaches to the processing of complex interactions.

The cognitive maps we carry, construct and employ are not simply mental. Embodied cognition, the fact that our brain is inseparable from the body as a machine of knowledge, has been studied comprehensive in the last few decades by neuroscientist documenting how cognition is taking place within the body.

The experience of being lost coincides with moments at which our minds are busiest constructing the tools to help us find our way. Navigation, as the molecular biologist Christopher kemp has wonderfully documented in his book, Dark and Magical Places, is “one of the most complex cognitive tasks that we perform, and we’re doing it constantly- a thousand times a day”. 

Architecture is, therefore, both a data-base and a form of knowledge. Our brain’s storehouse of experiences relating to architecture could be more than just data points regarding place, scale, light and orientation but produce an understating about how our environment is structured. Our brains treat spaces like a pattern language. A modular framework underpins our world AI and the self-attention model of seeing context represents an opportunity to re-assess our cognitive frameworks. 

Like AI, architecture is built on modularity of all kinds, harnessing the power of both standardization and customization to generate anything with repeating patterns. Architecture, from the 3,000-year-old pyramids in Giza, is dependent on repeatable systems that can be organized to create space from the sandstone blocks quarried miles away down the Nile to the solar tiles tessellating a Dubai skyscraper.  

Architectural form is modular. The scale of our modular construction systems determine our how we shape our surroundings. The manner in which we choose to aggregate these modular systems into a built environment define we design our world. 

Architectural knowledge involves both a know-why and a know-how. Architectural design is a bridge between concept and detail. Concepts in architecture are drawn from the question of how to do live. Architecture suggests a way of life happens in direct response to the conundrum of what we make of community, communication, and the environment. 

. Architects are notoriously fond of manifestoes. We build to address needs. Yet every building acts as both a portal and a mirror, locating reality in an increasingly surreal and utopian world. Architecture is therefore not only a technology to interface with our world but also one with ourselves. Our built environment is our best data-base on co-existence The concepts offered by architecture have to do with how we aim to manage our surroundings and our communities. 

Our built environment is a representational device as much as a functional one. Buildings, landscapes, and cities do not represent a way of experiencing our world. Architecture is a model of life with accompanying effects. It embodies a particular awareness about the boundaries that make space possible. The space in question is that which enables life to be interpreted. In other words, we are not speaking of the actual shape of space but of the experiences of spaces strung together in an environment in our world that we then employ as a model. 

Architecture is our oldest and most successful technological form because of its ability to be a backdrop, container, and infrastructure for living. It enables human civilization because of its power to evoke emotion; elicit ambience and serve as a setting for the re-imagination of ourselves. It is therefore not unseen and felt. We don’t need to understand architecture as a construction system or an economic paradigm for it to be palpable as the stage for our lives.

Architecture is already and always a social practice. A social practice with a debt to other individuals, creditors, owners, communities, clients, and cities. Architecture aesthetics is a method of negotiation: being in between, looking for connections between disparate parties and mediating conflict is the art of architectural representation. Ornament is criminal because its promiscuous in its associations with other fields of representation: botany, anatomy, and the plastic arts. Architecture has managed to transform the means of construction into a customary procedure for the creation of culture. 

 The role of seeing and interpreting our built environment is political. In interpreting the difference between lightness and mass or the relation between symmetry and the whole object, we disentangle the knots of a particular context. We have developed an instinctive ability to map context, track divergent behaviors as they relate to our bodies and then share this information with our peers. Paying attention to our built environment is a cognitive act that defines what it is to be human.

The brain has, in the last two decades, has been one of the most exciting topics of scientific research. A quick bibliographical search pulls dozens of popular titles published this millennium with titles like The Secret Life Of The Mind, Brain Rules And A Thousand Brains: A New Theory Of Intellgince. The tools have expanded, the funding has increased, the research subspecialties  has spread resulting in an wealth of new discoveries. As an architect, the main takeaway, is just as The Nobel prize winning neuroscientist John O’Keefe write at the start of his famous manifesto The Hippocampus As Cognitive Map: “space plays a role in all our behaviors” 

Neuroscientists are discovering that our brains create map-like structures to build models that in turn help us know the world. our built environment is a collection of many of these very space-informed structures. In fact, it is not surprisingly or even coincidental that our buildings are designed in much the same way. In other words, we build mental models of our world before we then construct what becomes the world that in turn shapes our surroundings, our perceptions, our communities, and ourselves. 

What do these scientific discoveries mean for how we see architecture? The novelty and radicality of these findings suggest that our built environment is more than just a functional machine that enables civilization. It is even more than a cultural signifier. It is an artifact of our collective brain power that represents how we perceive the world, why we have a sense of self, and the origin of high-level thought. 

The neuroscientist Gyorgi Buzsaki from NYU’s Langone Health institute has been studying the hippocampus for the 4 decades and assets that these cluster of brain cells are not only involved in navigation,” He describes the complex spatial navigation mental travel for they enable the mind “to go to the future” to imagine and plan an array of possible outcomes. The place cells in the brain can perform this mental travel twenty times faster than it is possible in real space. 

Robert Clark, a neuroscientist at the university of California, San Diego, has investigated what the human mind does with its cognitive maps highlighted the “difficulty of disentangling navigation from memory.” As Christopher Kemp, the molecular biologist from Michigan State university, writes: “space and time are the scaffolding on which memories are built environment. 

The neurobiologist André Fenton has gone as far as suggesting that these traits of forward imaginative projection are what tie place cells in the mind with the accumulation of knowledge. He calls them knowledge representers, as a nod to how they use the construction of complex maps based on the abstraction of space to understand social hierarchies and store knowledge. 

Architecture’s history of creating space for us to live can teach us something about how our minds work by providing solutions to the spatial problems. Architecture is part of our brains’ pattern language. Every built environment represents a set of spatial solutions on how to live in this world that our brains and those of others interpret and make use of. . “Understanding how we see, therefore, is to understand ourselves,” as the AI scientist Fei-Fei Li wrote in her book, “The Worlds I See: Curiosity, Exploration, and Discovery at the Dawn of AI.”

Heuristics is our best technique of self-discovery. Heuristic tools help the human mind extrapolate solutions from little information. Architecture’s a heuristic effect rests in the ability for space to connecting cognition with action.   Brains are not fixed cellular organizations but a plastic organ that like a muscle is altered by what we ask it to do. Neuroscience has been testing and revealing the ways our brain change based on the activities we ask it to perform. Journals and studies in the last 20 years using animal modeling, virtual reality and MRI scanning has shown that humans can develop more sophisticated spatial cognitive abilities by activity using our brins to navigate space. 

Moving through a building with attention can be a means for our minds to understand how we acquire cognitive map-like knowledge of our world. architecture can be an answer to the age all question of where we are. Our built environment offers a means to interpret what of our where is changing. 

Being attentive to architecture involves placing ourselves in our spaces so that our lives become entangled with the spaces we inhabit. We become aware of how our movements and thoughts might be affected by the scale, orientation, and atmosphere of a space. The cells in our minds, such as the hippocampus, subiculum, and entorhinal cortex process information through cognitive mapping. Boundaries, directional flow, and locational points provide our minds a scaffolding-like understanding of space which in turn serve as cognitive structures to organize other mental facilities such as language and spatial relationships. 

The spatial context presented by architecture offers our brains a chance to learn how we decipher space. Design is a form of programming that demands an interest in unfamiliar territories. Designers imagine the space of others, our users, as a place filled with possibility. The foreign becoming something cherished, interesting and even intimate. The outcome of architectural design is the invention of new place to explore. Architecture offers our bodies as chance to exercise its faculties of spatial discovery. How does our brain make sense of a building, a city and the places in between? 

When we pay attention to our built environment, we are addressing architecture’s cash value the way William James would have instructed, asking what difference a building makes in the world. An experience of another person’s thought. An encounter with the cognitive structure of another group. 

Our buildings manage and control our relationships to our environment. They move air, process water, hold waste, consume energy, and transform the soil in complex metabolic processes that enable us to persist. The very best of contemporary architecture represents our brightest ideals for regulating our fragile environment.

The simple act of paying mind to our built environment rather than our digital devices may appear obvious, yet the cultivation of individual attention remains, as Justin E. H. Smith writes, an act of resistance in our attention-extraction economy. To pay attention to architecture today means to take time to look at our buildings in their setting, to imagine how the rooms in our homes create a domicile, to measure the proportions, temperature, and humidity of a new space with our bodies and to think about how the structures we built make the people we have become.

Cognitive scientist, John Bargh and James Gibson, have argued that perception and action are deeply intertwined. Anthropologists, like Dr. Katherine Loflin, have studied how our bonds to a specific location help individuals and communities thrive through, a three-year Knight Foundation study of 26 communities across America known as the Soul of the Community project. 

We have all participated in the making of this environment. We have learnt how to take raw materials, mold them into usable shapes, organize them into parts and then assemble them into some meaningful whole. The translation from drawing, as a set of instructions to a team of builders, to building, as a cultural artifact is intrinsic to the way in which architecture transforms the world.  

Our world has been remade by the mining, excavation, material transformation. Transformation and destruction are intrinsic to architectural production. Our built environment represents the potential for a feedback loop: for the histories surrounding a work of architecture to affect individuals in a direct emotive way, touching people, impressing identities through a connection with our built environment that is not purely transactional, not driven by a functionally driven thereby allowing for an opening in how we might relate with our physical surrounding, presenting the prospect for our world to remake us

Material innovations abound, allowing for structures to be lighter, larger, and more ephemeral than ever. Building codes result in architecture projects made from radically thin surfaces layered into 3-dimensional crepes. Architecture is a tool and an attendant accessory to the wild, raw, and ugly urges of human greed. 

The architecture profession dawdles in the dens of power, yet it is helpless against the forces into which it is thrown. Opaque Financial instruments, hard nose construction contracts, interlocking technical specs, overlapping municipal codes. The complexity seems endless. Architecture coordinates multiple systems to afford the chance of singularity. Our built environment is a result of coaching teams, convincing neighbors, coercing financial complexity, characterized by greater levels of abstraction into a model of cognitive mapping. 

If the 19 century was about styles and the 20th century one impelled by industrially charged manifestos then 21st-century might be about extreme mediated experiences. The focus on a mediated life aligns with a heightened sensibility towards how we interact with of our environment or that outside of ourselves. What is the environment? Is it a backdrop for the mediation? 

Mathematics in both the ancient and renaissance tradition was a science requiring performance. Three quarters of all pre-modern math books have annotations by amateurs in the margins. Euclid meant for mathematical diagrams to be embodied. Looking and seeing remain open-ended. Heightened attention so we sense ourselves in the act of perception.

Military and math emerged as sister disciplines in the 14th century. Galileo taught us how Perspectival optics was used to measure a surface. Soldiers in the late renaissance had to be mathematically competent. World War 2 introduced statistics as data science. Prediction became the new science of warfare. The behaviorist revolution unleashed the ghosts of multiple agents onto the modern architectural field. 

The experience of space is equivalently transformative. We encounter borders, passages, openings, categories, hierarchies of order and in so doing integrate these into our cognitive framework. Our brains make architecture into models of the universe and vice versa. 

Space was no longer a void. The paradigm set forth by Bramante in his wondrous drawings for Saint Peter’s wherein form shaped a beautiful void of nothingness transforming the space of architecture today a field of subjects, nodes and vectors. The concepts suggested by our built environment are not independent of our engagement with space. In fact, our built environment is completed once occupied. Like Christopher Nolan’s definition of film making, a movie is only finished once the audience views and reacts to it. 

Scale is the mediator of body and site. Architecture is a technology of both orientation and connection. It’s a tool for both inclusion and segregation—as such it one of the ways by which community is made. Connection to the material and ultimately geometric side of things. We work for more reasons that to capture energy and build structures for more reasons than to provide shelter.

Architecture as an active field welcomes both the body and the brain. Our identity as agents becomes indistinguishable from our technologies. The shaping of our environment via technology correspondingly defines our communities today. If we can build, we can think. Architecture is more than just a solution to a building problem. It is a map of our ideas about world, a trace of cartographic journeyers into new geographies. 

Architecture is a spatial practice trapped in a temporal paradox. Buildings involve a grammar of past project the imagination of plans.  Architecture is a practice about ideas about the future. The best buildings are the ones that create new ideas about how to live in this world. The ideas embedded in architecture are specific to how we organize the world into categories of matter.

What then is our built environment at the opening decades of the 21st century? We accommodate all things: from the poly valent, the nonhierarchical, the multi-centered, the non-symmetrical. Our critical discourse is an amalgam of the classic with the modern. Vitruvius three principles for a well-designed building remain relevant: firmitas, utilitas, and venustas.  

What is architecture at a time of intangible capital and economic volatility? What is architectural aesthetics during the third industrial revolution, one defined by computing instead of steam or electricity? How do we fit into this new place we are creating and which in turn changes us? 

The pandemic exposed the fragility of interdependencies and the need for a model to manage isolation. We have been living in a state of permacrisis. Fragmentation abounds and volatility rules. architecture has been radically changed by technology and the arrival of Anthropocene. 

Architectural space today is different because of ecological crisis and digital revolution. Both phenomena have changed the meaning of space. The first made it active as a participant. The second has made it flat, omni-present, intimate, and painful. 

If we are participants in the making of our built environment today, what do we have to say about it? How do our contemporary fears, obsessions, desires, and anxieties inform our built environment? The best of our contemporary architects as themselves these questions every day. Their work contains ideas reflecting our time. Our buildings are cognitive structures that reveal our attitudes about self, community, and environment.

Our planet is precariously fragile, close to broken. The World Bank’s annual report from 2023 was titled our future is burning.  We are aware that our participation in this place has broken it. That realization is at the center of our understanding of beauty in our building permit.

Today’s architectural forms, from Gehry’s Bilbao to SANAA’s Grace Farms, represent a massive range of spatial effects. These effects are modulated by our body and by the interaction of other bodies. We touch feel and remember, our planet and other people through architecture. Elements we perceive as being divergent or oppositional exist simultaneously. For Kant the question of the human was one of identity, today one of localization. Where is mankind after the third industrial revolution? A topological turn, from enlightenment to entanglement. 

Every built environment is a project of world-building however small or mundane. The stories we conjure out of our built environment influence the way we build out our “real world”. Architectural production is an exercise in creating our own version of reality and in so doing make sense of life in the outside world. As our communities change and our desires for being together Architecture can help us determine and comprehend what is our emerging sense of collectivity.

Allegory as a way of making a story personal, local communal. What architecture does to typology when it transforms it for a different locale at a different time. Type is universal but not unrestricted. It’s content requires adaptation. Allegory offers an alternative version of functionalism. Allegory as the possibility of another world inextricably connected to the articulation of reality, stability and posterity. The making of place that unites body and mind for as Paul Virilio wrote, the “Body cannot abstract itself from space” The Japanese word for downtown, Shtimachi, refers to more than a locality in Tokyo but as the Arata Isosaki write is  a  “region that is both physical and imagined with very blurry boundaries. “ 

So much of filmmaking these days involves world-building, whether it’s the Marvel Cinematic Universe or “Avatar.” Each time Yeoh and company “verse-jump,” Academy members see a version of what they do: beam moviegoers into another dimension. The multiverse isn’t just a philosophical concept—it’s a mode of storytelling that represents the movies’ strongest contemporary hold over cultural imaginary. 

The cultural goal of architecture is the creation of spaces for the imaginary, an aesthetic about our environmental situation. We are cultural creatures. We are always finding ways of talking about the expressive potential of our built environments. We take variation in our environment and incorporate it into our aesthetic preferences. Architecture has almost always dealt with materials pared down, exposed to the problem of humanity civilizing force, a force that extracts nature from its context. A paradoxical fluidity results between architecture and its context. The work of building an environment begets context. Our occupation of these spaces activates space generating a new context. 

Architecture offers a way of experiencing awe. What is awe? Awe “is its own thing,” believes Dr. Keltner. It is “the absence of self-preoccupation.” We perceived vastness” and in so doing, researchers have found that we experience tremendous health benefits that include calming down our nervous system and triggering the release of oxytocin, the “love” hormone that promotes trust and bonding. 

Our bodies respond differently when we are experiencing awe than when we are feeling joy, contentment, or fear. We make a different sound, show a different facial expression. Dr. Keltner found that awe activates the vagal nerves, clusters of neurons in the spinal cord that regulate various bodily functions, and slows our heart rate, relieves digestion‌ and deepens breathing.

Let us actively participate in the occupation of space by becoming literate in how our buildings are, drawn, made and eventually demolished. Recognize how our buildings partake in process. Turn away from a simple functionalism or an optimized utopia and towards and aesthetic of the 

We can learn not to objectify our buildings as either duck or shed but think of our built environment as a series of actions that are both transforming their surroundings and ourselves. The qualities of these spaces are made manifest by our occupation. The essence of the container is therefore, not the cask but the liquid in the cask, as Heidegger was fond of saying. 

The deep interest in attention comes at a time when our grasp on our own intelligence has been shaken by the inconceivable discoveries of AI. Digitization has rendered human thought both “less contextual and less conceptual,” according to Kissinger, Schmidt and Huttenlocher, while paradoxically, our AI tools lack the ability to contextualize and reflect. We receive information today without a deep understanding of how it has been processed. Our lives are now being driven by technologies that are automated on a cascade of networked data fields that we cannot see.

The Internet’s greatest strengths are its nonhierarchical architecture leading to the scalability muscle offering no separation between the subject and object.  “The joy and wonder of the internet”, as James Ball has noted “is that everything is connected.” Utility shifts in a digital world characterized by the spaciousness and blindness of  social mediation. Instead of a physical power to transform materials and assemble new forms, utility turns towards the desire to see through a medium. The new paradigm prioritizes optics over systems.  

So as our world marches and stumbles from one crisis to another, let’s lift our heads, pay attention to our built environment and, in so doing, keep our minds sharp, noticing structures that help us determine and comprehend our emerging sense of collectivity. After all, it is this self-reflection that makes us human. 

Introduction to CAZA

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“Cooking is the language through which society unconsciously reveals its structure” -Claude Levi-Strauss

Our stance on authenticity stems from a love affair with the primitive forms found in the dustbins of Euclidean geometry. We have been stirring them around and firing them up, all the while imagining that we can remake the physical and chemical properties of known forms by putting them under specific kinds of pressure.   

Not unlike the cook who stands between nature and the material world, we are occupied with the making of intangible forms of culture from blunt and plain objects.  The ancient Greek word for cooking, mageiros, is etymologically linked with magic. We think it necessary that the practice of architectural wizardry include both a study of formal limits and a commitment to the making of new pluralities from old architectural concepts.

This is an architectural cookbook that documents how we get from the raw to the cooked. Authenticity cannot be a hierarchical pyramid of connoisseurship or a parametric sea of infinity possibilities. Our work is based on the idea that architectural experimentation consists of a small set of technologies that incrementally transforms material culture into bursts of social expression. 

We have organized 7 projects into three states of transformation: PRIMITIVES, EXPRESSIONS & SIGNATURES. Each phase change has a story about how we understand the ingredients we have assembled. The work is described in terms of recipes encouraged to dissolve the sense of heavy material realism. We don’t have to believe that things are the way they are. A circle can be pickled and roasted into a triangle.  

We have sought to avoid the tropes of late capitalist abstraction in favor of the pursuit of a careful transformation of geometry into something we don’t know. Our proto-culinary pursuits have enabled a mixture of errand and epiphany in our labors. We analyze shapes as if they were beautifully butchered hogs that arrived on our cutting boards—entrails and guts all conjoined yet open to dismemberment. We slice and pull, anticipating the marinade, preparing the stages of fermentation, and railing behind the ghosts’ of modernism while scoping the limits of contemporary beauty.

Architectural breakthroughs consists of incremental transformation of material culture into bursts of social expression. 

Failure

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How do we make sense of failure? Most of our projects will be stymied or interrupted. Near bankruptcy seems endemic to a new architecture practice. Is there a method to connect these incessant disruptions into an intelligent pattern? 



As a young studio, we survive because of our bias towards relentless action. Our work makes more associations than we can realistically handle. We are hungry for a  “very odd family of deer,” as Dr. Seuss wrote “whose horns are connected, from one to the other, whose horns are so mixed they can’t tell them apart, can’t tell where they end and can’t tell where they start! Each deer is mighty puzzled. He’s never yet found if his horns are hers, or the other way’round”



The last few years in our studio have resulted in the accumulation of a lot of drawing. We produce more iterations and more studies in the hope that this accretion of architectural work amounts to a kind of tacit knowledge of the places we work in and the clients we service. Drawing is our form of professional mindfulness. It allows us to aggregate matter and exercise a physical transformation upon reality. Drawing enables us to adopt an orientation and disentangle our odd affair with failure.  It represents our archaic conviction in projection as a form of magic.  

We have charted maps, traced vectors, exploded plans and unfolded all sorts of complex volumes. While working on these drawings, the world outside tumbled through a barrage of vertiginous crises: financial meltdown, environmental catastrophe and incessant global warfare.

How is our practice related to this volatility? 

We have consultants breathing down our throats, regulations tying our hands and purveyors suffocating our vision. Markets favor a resolved sleekness in super-sonic speed. And yet our environment is defined by erratic bursts of new information. Autonomy is no longer a valid stance– our practice is nested in other disciples and systems of thought. 

Our advantage as a new practice is in our inability to envision a project without holes—something between relaxation and efficiency. We cannot produce perfect machines with a hard armature. Our work must be slow and intimate in recognition of the fact that our bodies exist as uncontrollable and incomplete ecologies ravaged by the capricious winds of late-capitalism. 

Our curse, as a new practice, is that once we have figured how to do something, we must go on to something else seeking the joy and pain of our misadventures. We must keep up the illusion that we can build what we don’t truly know. We must keep on drawing madly, studying our scraps for lessons of what is yet to come and staying hungry for that “very odd family of deer.”

Looseness

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1 looseness. Relaxaxtion 

2 pull back fast after contact

3 constant rhythm

4 move right when you want to hit left.

5 protect but open. Stay closed but open to lure the other in

6 use all systems – turn your waist – to conserve energy. The goal beign effortlessness

7 close palm and turn fist

8 strong foundations. Your stance is crucial

9 Bias towards a relaxed action

10 know the combinations. A system that starts with regulars and builds complexity is

11 boxing is more about failure than success. Most boxers fail, most of the time.

12. Keep your eyes open. Watch your opponent. It’s a dance. 

13.  Hit right after you block. Mix defense with offense 

14. don’t foreshadow. 

15. snap punch do not overcommit to one effort.

16. improtntce 

Boxing and architecture

1 looseness

2 pull back fast after contact

3 constant rhythm

4 move right when you want to hit left.

5 protect but open. Stay closed but open to lure the other in

6 use all systems – turn your waist

7 close palm and turn fist

8 strong foundation. Your stance is crucial

9 Bias toward action

10 know the combinations. A system that starts with regulars and

builds complexity is

11 boxing is more about failure than success. Most boxers fail, most

of the time.

12. Keep your eyes open.

13.  Hit right after you block.

Every punch is connected to another move

An opponents punch is the best opportunity to attack

Always look and watch

If they give you lines offer them circles.

Making The Shot While Falling: On Iversonian Beauty

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“Something beautiful fills the mind yet invites the search for something beyond itself, something larger or something of the same scale with which it needs to be brought into relation.” – Elaine Scarry

“beauty is political not despite the fact that it feels subjective but precisely because it is, in fact, subjective. Beauty enters us into a world of dispute, contention and conflict at the very moment when we feel to be removed from the social world… beauty exists at the tense intersection of the individual and society, with the individual neither fully subsumed nor fully free from social norms and cultural hierarchies… beauty is not something given but something that we do and something that we change.” -Dave Beech

The professional basketball player Allen Ezail Iverson played a different kind of game. He was shorter than most of his peers yet insisted on going deep into the court to score. His speed was legendary and his trajectory never straight. He would spin back and forth in a dizzying staccato of repetitive corkscrews, testing the field in front of him then leaving his opponents flat-footed. His most famous points were made while he was almost tumbling down to the ground. 

Iverson’s movements were almost like those of a frenetic 3D printer. He tracked every possible play without predetermination then orchestrated a rapid blend of actions that left everyone—including sometimes himself—in shock. His game seemed based on the recognition of emergent patterns instead of on the execution of a preconceived plan. Iverson’s form felt nearly digital. His breakthrough was in being able to make athletic opportunities through a variable non-linear probalistic process. 

Iverson on the court looked as if he was actively learning to play.  He appeared to be sampling the environment for new forms. His game was arresting because there was something about it that we recognized yet didn’t know or anticipate. His basketball was a kind of exercise in restless prototyping. This probably explains his proximity to near failure. His successful moves exemplified a promise, at the level of the imagination that the game might be played otherwise. 

Watching Iverson play is an altogether contemporary experience of the beautiful. His game is not concerned with idealized form. His basketball is beautiful because, rather than being a thing in itself, it suggests that the sport is a game about the immediate world around us. Iverson’s plays demands an extension of one’s experience. They are models to think of athletic form as a discursive practice that connects us with the basketball court in unpredictable ways. 

Our contemporary experience of architecture is not dissimilar to Iversonian basketball. Buildings cannot be isolated from their surroundings and as such any concept of architectural beauty cannot be autonomous from the world. We cannot assume unmediated knowledge of our surroundings and our sense of enduring exile is a given in our post-humanist age of continual crises. Our buildings are similarly part of their context but not altogether integrated: building systems are widely parcelized, the construction industry is Balkanized and the execution of any project involves multiple constituents seeking consensus through design.

The whale of social media and electronic exchange has swallowed architecture. Buildings today are no longer objects of contemplation or even unmitigated distraction. We see them proliferate as images on screens dissolving their solid mass of material realism. Our image-driven economy treats buildings as proxies for future investment scenarios. Architecture in the age of unremitting online declaratives and multi-player video games has become an open interface for the emergence of infinite publics. 

Architectural beauty today is less and less actualized in any particular shape. Visit any famous building and witness how the flow of digital information mediates architectural form: countless people frantically snapping pictures to send instead of stricken still, as Odysseus once did, when confronted with the beautiful. Our contemporary relationship with architecture is entirely rhizomatic. We seek out connections and are drawn to objects because of their ability to relate to other objects. 

Umberto Eco’s comparative treatise on the history of beauty established its inexorable mutability. Beauty we learned is not absolute. Its diverse history is directly dependent on our changing models of the universe. Any reflection on contemporary beauty is, therefore, a consideration of the language we have to discourse our world. If so, contemporary architectural beauty might then be a node in a network connecting our concepts of aesthetic judgment to ideas about our environment, our political precariousness, our economic volatility, and ultimately ourselves.

The Western philosophical tradition of beauty when applied to architecture, however, has had the effect of separating the beautiful building from its surroundings.  Plato’s cave established beauty as an approximation of an idealized environment. Buildings are, as a consequence, turned into shadows of a perfection we partially glimpse through an encounter with the beautiful. Aristotle’s paradigm of organic unity set up beauty as complete which in turn makes it impossible to define architectural beauty in terms of a building’s engagement with any fluctuating spatio-temporal phenomena such as light. Immanuel Kant’s expression of the beautiful as “disinterested delight” further separated buildings from the actuality of our daily engagement with architecture. Beauty’s irresistibility thus confirmed architecture’s autonomy. 

The Iversonian model of basketball calls for an understanding of beauty based on how individuals relate to a changing field of forces in front of them. Playing basketball like Iverson becomes an exercise in the generation of new positions, rather than a rerun of known forms. The beautiful in architecture must similarly be conceived of as a creative act of ideation. The appearance of things in architecture is inseparable from their working in the world and as such any discussion of beauty in architecture is an engagement with a conceptual framework about buildings and their physical and cultural milieu. 

The trouble is that architectural beauty does not tell us what it is about. Beauty does not involve a didactic transmission of ideas. We know it when we see it. To encounter beauty is to become instantly acquainted with the mental event of conviction, as Elaine Scarry wondrously documented in her readings of the beautiful from Homer through Rilke. The experience of the beautiful is an experience of momentary buoyancy that insinuates itself as a discernibly exuberant event.

We see Iverson make the shot and feel something that leads to a declaration.  Beauty begets pleasure that in turn creates a desire for communication. The beautiful in architecture becomes an invitation to describe that which lies beyond us. Like Einstein’s theory of how stars are made, beauty demands the creation of its own space. The crystallization of beauty exemplifies a triumph in our ability to connect with our built environment and to take delight in our imaginary exploration of this outside. 

Hans George Gadamer’s essay on the relevance of the beautiful imparts a model to think of beauty as a discursive event of transgression. The beautiful is an activity centered on the possibility of exceeding the logic of current systems of thought. Architectural beauty is a proxy to play with our limits as individuals. Play, for Gadamer, is how we create community through communication. The beautiful challenges us “to construct new compositions directly from the elements of the objective visible world and to participate in the profound tensions that they set up… it challenges each of us to listen to the language in which the world speaks and to make it our own.” 

Contemporary architectural beauty offers up the possibility to think of connectivity as an optimistic gesture. We not only discern something clearly but we are provoked to deliberate. We want to make connections back and forth with other places both real and imagined. The beautiful creates the desire to relate buildings to their contexts and histories—it is a rouse to experience architecture as part of a community of people. 

Robin Evans once described his encounter with the Barcelona Pavilion as an experience that focused our attention on how see. This is an example of beauty producing a concept.  The beautiful in contemporary architecture can be like meeting Deleuze’s friend of wisdom whose “presence is intrinsic to thought, a condition of possibility of thought itself—in short, a living category, a constitutive element of thought.”

The beautiful in architecture transforms our built environment into a repository of possible ideas about how things work and why they can be different. Experiencing beauty makes us momentarily like Iverson on the basketball court. It is an alchemical process of conceptualization that sets up a tension between facts and experience. We can talk about new perfections in the work of Alvaro Siza and Kazuyo Sejima or different truths in projects by Jacques Herzog and Pierre de Meuron or partial multiplicities in buildings by Enric Miralles. These architects produce singularities that acknowledge their contingent situation, reordering reality in ways that are both enduring and touching. 

Beauty is an activity of creating concepts in architecture. Concepts do not wait. To actualize a new world through design is to be engaged in the production of imagined communities. We live in age that exalts in the frenetic as it produces a wondrous improbability that is distinct from the silence and coherence of the sublime. Our expectations are constantly bombarded by what can happen as result of the fact that our world has been exposed to be incomplete. Our designs must be made in response to this static-filled reality. We must try, like Iverson, to imagine how we can move through space in improbable ways and make the shot even while we are falling down. If the beautiful in contemporary architecture has an optimistic structure it is in the awareness that empathy results from the desire to transform our improbable physical environment into a cultural space of exchange. 

On Innovation

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We have started to doubt the innovation narrative. What if our thirst for the cutting edge is misguided? What if all this running does not bring us to the front? What if the nature of the new is not about disruptive innovation but about connections with people and places other than ourselves?

What if the importance of design is in its ability to foster exchange instead of revolution?

Our questions are driven in a large part by our need to survive. We reside in a converted warehouse in Brooklyn and work on projects in Manila, Hangzhou, San Jose, Cebu, Lima, and Bogota. The geographical gulf in our work cultivates a necessary fondness for resilient identities. We do not comprehend most of the languages we hear so we must listen closely, make things up as we go, and relax.

Our projects are conceived as an ongoing archive of the foreign bodies we encounter in everyday practice. We invite more associations in our work than we can realistically handle because overlapping ways of thinking are more interesting than an ideology that must be continually transgressed. We attempt to build moments of conviction upon a fragmentary universe of fickle consumer trends, friction-free markets, political unrest, and mind-numbing technological advances.

We are drawn to the aberrant situations and alternate rationalities in a project. We spot an imbalance in our environment and produce a story about it: a setback dictate that exacerbates density, a curtain wall constraint that makes us rethink thinness. Our designs seek to refract these existing conditions and nest commentary in architectural form. Our formal accretions become a tacit knowledge of these places and their communities.

We are inspired by the many imperfect visions of survival on our endangered planet. The reality of environmental catastrophe is indeed frightening and if innovation is a form of exchange then perhaps we can design spaces that we have not yet seen—spaces in which irreconcilable desires co-exist. Architectural form could then be a tacit knowledge of our responsibility to dream as a community.

This is not a light task. It comes with the duty of thinking about design as a way of knowing-in-group. As we sit together in the darkness holding hands with strangers, geometry is our campfire hymn. We use measurement to manipulate, influence, and affect form. Rationality is sensible only as a system that we have incrementally translated.

Perhaps this is a foolhardy goal for a small studio in the age of corporate behemoths.

At CAZA, we all share a tenderness for these fledging realities in the form of that “very odd family of deer,” as Dr Seuss wrote “whose horns are connected, from one to the other, whose horns are so mixed they can’t tell them apart, can’t tell where they end and can’t tell where they start!”

We have posed ourselves the challenge of making environments out of a deep affection for that which we don’t control. Our romance with the idea of a manifold and optimistic future breeds an epistemological seriousness with regards to our methods. We must train, like amateur boxers, in the absence of our opponent and yet remain committed to their presence. We are natural adversaries who will fight for the chance to recognize the other person in a ring and share a delightful exchange of blows. The preservation of this wild meeting with the unknown is, as designers, our gift to the world.

Slip Left then Punch Right: Anticipating Volatility 

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“To gaze in on another may be an inadequate path to understanding, but in the case of boxing, it might be the only one” -Christopher Bedford

Boxing is probably our earliest form of civilized combat. Considered to be one of humanity’s oldest experiments in relationary dynamics, it pits two fighters in a ring bound by a set of rules. The Greeks held matches to commemorate the fallen after a war. The Romans popularized athletes into the most prized entertainers in the empire. The sport’s drama is a function of a tightly controlled volatility: two bodies are throwing punches at each other with the intensity of serious conflict while the precipitating chaos is subject to strict spatiotemporal regulation. 

A boxer-in-training, however, is confronted by none of these exigencies. Boxers train in an almost melancholic solitude repeating a combination of moves devoid of the presence of the other boxer. They punch, slip and block alone. They drill outside of the ring and typically box in front of a mirror. They gaze at themselves, attempting to imagine the missing boxer while confronting an optical inversion of their surroundings. A boxer’s practice is a kind of perverse functional diagram by which a subject projects the possibility of a specific kind of relationship with another subject through their absence. 

The ancient Hellenic sculpture, The Boxer of Quirinal, is a breathtaking homage to this process of partial and unfinished subjectivity. The Boxer rests. He is neither in training nor in a fighting stance. His genitals are scarred, his skin is cut, his hands are gently wrapped and his slanted head bespeaks a history of vicious combat. We don’t know if he is triumphant or in agony.  His repose is not free of the ghost of the other boxer. 

The Boxer’s solitude suggests the presence of another body. We consummate the implied absence of his attacker by building an imaginary bridge between his body and the act of fighting. His scars, his straps, his exhausted muscles, all refer to something outside of the space of the sculpture. We envision the ring, his opponent and the unpredictable frenzy of two bodies at war. The Boxer’s solitude is a proxy for the tacit knowledge construed out of an incomplete picture of reality.  

Critics liken boxers to dancers. The metaphor works because both dancing and boxing are radical forms of alternative communication. Professional dancers and prize boxers are obsessive readers. Their strength comes from their ability to be in extreme physical discomfort while remaining open to the shifting subjectivities of another body. Boxing technique is based on the need to interpret and anticipate volatility. 

Boxing drills appear to be about endurance yet their real purpose is to create the possibility for a feedback loop. Boxers become themselves by undoing the standard closed circuit between a body and its surroundings. They learn not to react when hit or to lurch down around an incoming body to dodge a punch. They must protect themselves while creating openings to lure the other body in. 

A boxer’s form is rhizomatic. They slip left then punch right, flowing through a cycle of unbroken vectors that map out a system of tangent relations.  They must imagine the body of their attacker while staring at themselves in a mirror. Boxers can only learn to cognitively flip their body for that of their attacker through relentless practice. 

Boxing gyms are temples of repetition. The sights and sounds of these gyms are familiar to all boxers: a hypnotic rhythm of rings—3 minutes on, 30 seconds off, 3 minutes on—with bodies moving through their combinations and punching objects that endlessly return. Repetition cultivates nerve sensitivities necessary for the dual processes of reading and reacting to volatility. 

Boxers are in constant search of a partner to analyze and in turn self-evaluate. They must defend and attack simultaneously. Their posture and their split-second movements address the other boxer. Every punch must be connected to another move. Boxing is an example of technique over ideology in a situation of hyper-connectivity. Boxers learn to how to act in a tense environment populated by another body whose unpredictable movements define their survival.  

Architecture is similarly beset with issues of connectivity and social cohesion while being confronted with piecemeal conceptions of our universe. As architects, our practice is based on the critique of forms before they are fully crystallized. We are tasked to design for life that has yet emerged. Our profession profits on the creation of spaces in the absence of people who will inhabit them. We perform interviews, conduct surveys and host countless user group meetings in the hope that we can address this gap. Like the boxer, we must build future ecologies of chance while working with incomplete fragments of ourselves in the present. 

Boxing as a model for design privileges the need to deal with change. Boxers must be watchful of what is not yet there. As architects, our work consists of a limited repertoire of operations meant to produce explosive outbursts of creativity. Our moves are simple and our technologies archaic. Like the combinations a boxer is taught, our tools consist of the rudimentary projection of matter into space. 

Boxing and architecture are practices that prosper on viewing the world the wrong side up. The power of design rests in its capacity to transform the commonplace through a different appraisal of reality.  Program, building materials and site are subject to a permanent intervention of action. We are obsessed with techniques that produce an upturned diagram of the social futures we must anticipate. Our tools of projection present nature as both changeable and eternally in flux. 

The boxer’s effortlessness in the ring is our inspiration. We strive for a practice that never overcommits to a particular ideology. Extreme conditioning in architecture demands a loose scanning of our surroundings in the hope of finding alternative patterns of inhabitation. 

The ideological battles of the last few decades can be summarized in terms of their neglect of technique. We must design navigable environments for the shifting sensibilities of users we don’t know or who don’t exist. Architectural form-making should never be absolute. We are, after all, practicing an applied sociology in the future. 

Architecture as spatial technique first before ideology enables us to re-assign the making of form as the means by which we acknowledge our precarious state as beings continually threatened by near ruin. Our design techniques, like those of the boxer, are based on an admission of incomplete knowledge through active engagement. We must make do with the imperfect reality of our profession by focusing on how we make things in this world for users we can never fully know. 

The body of the missing boxer is the strategic regulating factor in this relationship. The boxer construes the other body in the ring through a specific series of operations in space and time. His attack is conceived as a series of forms that adapts as it occupies time.  The presence of other moving bodies in space triggers a pattern of proportions, distances and volumetric overlaps. Geometry is hereby activated by use and charged with the ability to produce effects. 

 “If they give you lines offer them circles,” a boxing coach tells his young pupil. Understanding thrust as a function of shapes moving through space is a boxer’s technique for both defense and attack. Geometries calculated in relation to their potential for influence turns architecture into a method to both think and act. We can see our world, assess our failures and devise delightful ways to make it work differently. 

Architecture at a time of massive information overload demands a bias towards action. Why would one select a straight line versus a curve? The answer depends on a way of understanding how forces affect a territory. Architectural technique requires us to be connected to our surrounding systems in a specific formal way. Our practice necessitates a continual evaluation of the shape and organization of these connections. Our work entails the construction of fractionally new worlds out of old recyclable forms. 

Global production cycles force us to commit to the impossible. We are expected to innovate. Our industry values disruption. Novelty is our means of reacting to an environment that is defined by its ability to never stop. The current mediated design marketplace has brought about a situation of watered-down populist sleekness. 

As architects trying to be in the vanguard, we don’t truly know what we are doing—keeping this in mind is our strength and advantage. Geometry offers us a method to deal productively with our madcap desires. Major details remain in flux while we run towards tighter implementation deadlines.  We are asked for magic so we must keep the illusion up. Like the boxer, we are compelled to diagram the unpredictable, to listen for the future movements of other bodies in this world and imagine new architectural configurations that bring about spaces between relaxation and efficiency. 

Architecture is a spatial practice obsessed with relationships that might fail. Failure in the system is the reason we admire the boxer’s effortlessness in the ring. Looseness with agility or strength with flexibility ensures that energy can be dispersed across multiple figures in a field of activity so as to enable the machine to re-boot itself after a partial collapse. The correlation of points in the space not the abstract volume of the space itself is how failure is averted. It is a form of working that is as interested with what is physically present as with that which passes through a space. The boxer trains relentlessly to be able to see the transient eruptions of force in the ring. All that work helps them understand volatility and react accordingly. 

Boxing and architecture offer a technique to intervene on the world by always watching for the logic of action outside ourselves. Our environment, our cities and our communities are at stake anytime we choose between specific geometric patterns of action. Our capacity as designers rests in being able to gather entropic forces and create meaningful connections without cancelling out the reality of our precarious present. Design as an anticipatory relationship with others, albeit a kind of action-based ethics, offers up the possibility of civility as a physical and emotional aftershock to late capitalism. 

Overlay

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Our first job is to stack one thing on top of another without seeking alignment. This doesn’t block or cancel the previous layer—it multiplies the original through a deliberately crooked repetition. We force the limits of the archetype past its breaking point. We are drawn to this method of excessive duplication in the hope that we can let go of our beginnings. 

We seek systems in disequilibrium and geometries that are not entirely complete. We are looking for a way out of the labyrinth of staid solutions through the idea of overlay as the controlled proliferation of our work: the more we make the better we can see. 

Iterations

The systems surrounding our practice have a brutal wilderness: regulations, economies, and political arrangements in persistent flux. Our ambition is to out run this volatility through the production of relentless architectural iteration. 

Operations

The agent of change is our modern-day shaman. In a profession dedicated to stability, the idea of architecture as a set of operations enables us to dream of a practice that can change our world. We want to always stare at a frog and see a prince. 

Machine 

Drawing is our device to resolve the seemingly unsolvable. It is our deus ex machina. The vectors we project through the endless cloud of points indicate the possibility of making architecture that is biased yet contingent. 

On Practice

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We have worked for the last 5 years on projects in the Philippines—an archipelago located 5,000 miles away from our studio in Brooklyn. On a map, the Philippines floats, more like a constellation than a country, just above the equator, between China to the north, Vietnam and Indonesia to the west and the Pacific Ocean to the east.

The history of the Philippines has been marked by this floating geography. Chinese traders, Hindu merchants, Muslim chieftains, European missionaries all crossed its waters. The country is a collection of things that have never truly been unified: islands, tribes, dialects, ethnicities. The Filipino sensibility has evolved to work with this idea of a loose amalgam.  Hybrid identities are a norm in this place. People and spaces in the Philippines feel as if they are constantly drifting apart. 

To design in the Philippines requires a different idea of order. We have come to think of scatter and spread as its own kind of organization. Our plane of projection is an archipelago with fifty seven dialects and an urban population of over sixty five million people. We have replaced the usual concepts of solidity and legibility in architecture with branching, drifts and other technologies of itineracy.  Our drawings seek out connections, mining the points of instability in a culture with so much room between identities. 

The story of the Filipino has become our research agenda. We have studied its history, economy and explosive diaspora. Diagrams of migration, mixed breeds and successive political revolutions fill our Brooklyn studio. Our methodologies have become married to the local knowledge we have found. We think of geometry as a means to build loose structures of association between the social phenomena we observe. Our ambition is to create an architecture that transforms the physics of everyday life in this distant archipelago into unexpected cultural expressions. 

As outsiders to the Philippines, we embrace foreignness as a boon. New York is a city that has built itself on the back of exiles. Being without a place has informed our idea of what cities can be. We are all slightly unmoored. Our prescription for the future of the profession is to practice in a hyperlocal style through our shared reality of exile.