Craft

Adam’s Contribution to February 2018′s Zine examines how craft is applied in architecture. 

Architecture as Craft

Philosopher Aristotle introduced us to the theoretical question of, ‘what came first, the chicken or the egg?’ describing an infinite sequence with no true origin. The same notion can be applied to architectural design, how can you design a building without knowing how to build?

This is where architects must aspire to that of a craftsperson in their pursuit to create beautifully considered architecture. The craft could be defined as the endeavour to become conversant with materials in the ever‐ changing landscape of manufacturing processes, fabrication techniques and construction methods. Furthermore, it could be to actually engage with the craftwork itself ‐ to learn through making.

Undertaking this allows the architect to close a loop on design through the continuous investigation and understanding of their craft informing their drawings, models and visualisations. It is here where words by famed architect Louis Kahn echo, ‘reflecting the process of construction to illustrate the craft is merit in itself to achieve.’

Therefore, to practice craft in architecture is to embrace materials, which leads to a parallel appreciation of how material can establish a sense of architecture. Although designing buildings may primarily be considered a visual exercise, architecture can also have an impression on the other human senses of hearing, smelling and touching through material qualities. This promotes an enhanced and emotional experience of buildings.

In essence, craft gives substance and sensuousness to our architectural ideas.

Alex Ashman riffs on our Craft theme with the classic tool collection.

Photo of a Craftsman

The man I never knew paints a dolls house in his still life black and white world.

Frozen, squinting at the minute details of a picture-perfect abode, he precisely covers the walls and his recent memories of air raid sirens, shrieking and even more devastating silence.

The ink marked left sleeve betrays the handedness that would trickle down my family tree, along with the awkward posture that has over the years stooped over paintings, half-finished violins, whittlings and Macs.

In between us, him captured working in a three piece suit complete with pocket watch, and me in my trusty Doc Martens, there have been those that have live by their craftsmanship and those that have used their hands to make what their money could not buy.

But when I sit down to work, hunched over a painting or decide to make a clumsy attempt at producing something for my own place of sanctuary, time collapses like one of my Uncle’s attempts to fashion an accordion. I’m sitting next to my fellow amateur ancestor.

The are many differences between us, but in his breathless world and my hurried days, there exists squints at details, splinters in fingers, back aches, wrist cramps and the loss of sunlight when enraptured in a project – these things can transcend time.  

Chessie Contributed beautiful illustration to our first zine of 2018 - we have a limited number to give away at each event. If you would like to contribute - get in contact via twitter DM: twitter.com/crftmcr. follow us there too for ticket and line up announcements.

Cennydd is a digital product designer and writer who contributed to our Zine for episode 06 - Our first Craft event of 2018. 

The machine I've felt closest to

The machine I’ve felt closest to wasn’t the nebuliser that saved my blue-lipped life as a child. I don’t want to sound ungrateful: it did its job admirably, but it’s hard to truly connect while you’re gulping for oxygen. Too many appendages anyway; too many clamps and hoses. Thing buzzed so hard the whole ward shook. I’m surprised I didn’t end up with some sort of medical kink.

Nor is it the Stratocaster. I know, I know – I’ve told you a hundred times how the frets had worn down to just the right height, the dials had finally nestled into their best positions. For a short while I did feel the thrill of mastery that only a well-honed tool can offer. But I have to confess: I never truly made her sing like others could. Her circuitries were always too obscure, her temperament too fragile. I felt a pang of guilt yesterday as I wiped off the dust with uncallused fingertips.

I suppose I do feel indebted to the implant. No way could I have got this job without augmentation. My memories feel more vivid, sure, and my communication scores are up 30%. But I think I slept better before the recorders were online, and the whole cultish thing that’s grown up around it doesn’t strike me as healthy, you know? At least with Mensa you couldn’t just buy your way in.