In 2001 I had a little three piece
blues band in Zimbabwe. The three of us would cram ourselves plus all the gear
into my little hatchback mazda and drive across Harare to weekend gigs. Seen
here at the Art Cafe in Avondale.
Kudos to Neville for laying down a solid rhythm guitar
plus operating the dreaded drum machine. And to Sydney for his fluid and
responsive bass playing. I took the bulk of the vocals, but everyone chipped in
on the harmonies.
It was good while it lasted, a necessary outlet for me
in a period when I was both project architect and effectively single parent to
teenage boys.
We did "versions" by mixing lyrics from one
source with riffs from another and mixing in improvised solos mostly anchored
around a five note scale.
The name came from one of those songs and I designed
the logo, drafted in Autocad of course 🤣🤣🤣
Dividing things into three parts
seems to be a very deep human instinct. The "rule of three" is
evident at many different scales but most obviously in the three side-by-side
windows of a Singapore shophouse.
Sometimes they are identical. Sometimes the middle one
is a door, flanked by three windows, or a balcony sticking out like a nose on a
face.
You can't break the rules if there are no rules. Three
houses, each with three storeys and three identical bays. Such strong symmetry,
broken by an off-centre paint scheme in vivid colours.
This is living history, a tradition that prospers and
evolves. Climate, culture, materials and function, wrapped up in a tight little
package.
A page from my history pack of 1992.
Returning to architecture school as a mature student I was pursuing the idea of
architecture as the reflection of a particular time and place, often
subliminally expressed.
We think we are fulfilling the brief, or developing a
personal style, but in retrospect we notice distinct periods and regional
styles that reflect the nature of the society in which they arose.
I was gathering quotes to this effect from architects
of note and illustrating them with enigmatic sketches using a mirror as
metaphor.
Perhaps I should have given Mies a cigar... Another
missed opportunity 🤔
Most of the light wells that are the
defining feature of shop-houses have been glazed over in these days of air-con.
Multiple layers of adaptation for reuse in all the ones I visited yesterday.
I was struck by the huge timber beams, a reminder that
Singapore was carved out of rain forest where supplies of hardwood must have
seemed limitless. Some of the trimming beams around the light wells were six
courses deep, so 18" x 9" and carrying brick walls over spans of up
to 5 metres.
Mixing my units here as a concession to diversity and
inclusion. 🤣🤣🤣
This one is for Paul
Aubin. Some rather #liberal interpretations of the #Corinthian Order that we have both tackled in different ways using
Revit. These ones are from the shophouses I walked around at the weekend with Thomas
Milburn and Vicky
Truong
It never ceases to amaze me how adaptable classicism
is, a perfect reminder of the paradox of #freedom. Free expression often flourishes within a framework of
apparently rigid rules.
Call me a #conservative but... I love me some boundaries 🤣🤣🤣
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