Claris is a writer, multi-disciplinary designer, transgressive architect, and art historian. Her work seeks to complicate notions of reality, materiality, and normativity. She is creative director at Memory Insufficient and the design consultancy, Silverstring Media.
Dear Reader,
We are all drifting through time and space, some for longer and with more intention than others but all are on a journey of unclear beginnings and uncertain endings. Some of the most meaningful moments of our lives — connecting with another mind, exchanging intellectual and emotional energy — can leave little trace, even though they shape who we are, what we do, and what we create.
Letters are a crude but robust form of both space and time travel: for all of human history, and until recently, letters were the main way that humans crossed space to speak to each other at a distance; afterwards, they become records of conversations, moments, and relationships for future generations, and the authors themselves, to gaze back upon. Part of the robustness of the letter comes from its formality, they stand alone while being designed to construct a conversation. Unlike the essay, a letter is a gift with a particular receiver in mind; it is imbued with the warmth and generosity of the human relationship that created it, and leaves room for the reader to enter and receive it on their own terms.
Reading the correspondence of others has given me a sense of familiarity with an intellectual process and comradery that was at once foreign and familiar. Two great examples of this in the games scene have been Leigh Alexander’s letter series with Kirk Hamilton about Final Fantasy VII and Deus Ex, and the what-feminism-means-to-me-as-a-woman-in-games letter series Dear Mitu, Dear Emily.
It is with these inspirations in mind that we launch a new type of content at Memory Insufficient: a series of semi-regular (~one every other month) letter exchanges between myself and a special guest pen-pal. Each chain of letters will orbit a single, timely topic — something that has been weighing on my mind, or the subject of much discussion on Twitter.
We see this as another form of historical practice in the present, akin to anthropological field notes: a new expression of our intent to recenter histories and narratives that get left behind. In games and new media, interviews or post mortems are often our only view into this sort of process, and they are typically recorded after the work has been completed, constructing a narrative about the past that serves the interests of the present.
It is the hope of a field observer to take these documents forward in the years to come, as material for analysing what it was like to experience a context in time and space. When years from now we think about how games and play have changed, we do not want to be reliant on memory alone.
Sincerely,
Claris Cyarron, creative director at Memory Insufficient
Claris is a writer, multi-disciplinary designer, transgressive architect, and art historian. Her work seeks to complicate notions of reality, materiality, and normativity. She is creative director at Memory Insufficient and the design consultancy, Silverstring Media.
I’m an architect, though I rarely turn my talents to the design of physical installations anymore. I matriculated at a major university, in a well-regarded honours architecture program. After several years of hard work and study, I successfully graduated, and, upon shaking Many Important Hands, I received a sad, austere piece of paper stating as much. I also went home thoroughly disgruntled with the architectural academy.
Architecture is a very large and very old field, and while I’m aware that there are many programs that provide valuable knowledge ( *cough* not all architects *cough*), I have found the architectural profession and academy largely dismissive of the kind of work that I have come to practice: namely, the study and creation of spaces such as videogames and the internet. Traditional architects have often described this work to me as “not concrete” and sometimes simply “not architecture.” I choose to describe these spaces as “emergent.”
Despite the frustration I feel toward my discipline, I still find its approaches and lessons extremely valuable. The act of consciously reading and interpreting what a space is doing to its inhabitants, and the ability to use that knowledge to design systems and entities in spatially informed and deliberate ways will always, in my opinion, be worthwhile.
So when my friends and colleagues from other creative disciplines come to me and ask where a good place to begin their own private study of architecture is, it is always with a large measure of glee that I begin to respond. They, unlike me, have begun their journey prudently; by electing to remain outside the gravity-well of the architectural establishment, they bring vital outsider sensibilities to a craft dominated by where conservatism and caution frequently rule the day.
There is, of course, much more to architecture than the formal considerations of how space is designed and composed, but it is here that we will begin. We’re going to cover some practical introductions to architecture as a craft, and then in a future post, trace a barebones lineage of architectural thought from ancient Rome to contemporary Europe and America.
Architecture: Form, Space, and Order by Francis Ching
Filled with hundreds of gloriously detailed, hand-rendered images of buildings, landscapes, and cities throughout history, famous architectural draftsman and lecturer Francis Ching walks the reader through what each example is “doing,” and how it was achieved. Further, he fits all of these discrete critical readings into a comprehensive introductory framework of spatial “movements.”
What is gained by centering a piece of architecture around a single node? What is gained by extending the node upward, to form a tower? What is gained by pairing that linear element with another a short distance away, creating an implied plane? How and why can this structure in three dimensions read as a plane? How might such a place be experienced by its occupants? These are the questions that Architecture: Form, Space, and Order both asks and answers.
I tried to keep the three introductory texts as inexpensive as possible, but unfortunately, this one is the most expensive, due in part to the fact that it is a textbook. Let me assure you, however, that of all three of these introductory texts, this is by far the most comprehensive and useful. All of the texts mentioned in the piece are commonly found in local and university libraries, and some have been made available as PDFs. Search around.
Architectural Drawing Course: Tools and Techniques for 2D and 3D Representation by Mo Zell
Don’t panic! This is normal. Capital-A-Architecture is distinguished at making practitioners feel inadequate, with disciples often passing on the abuse. Mo Zell’s excellent Architectural Drawing Course contains all of the exercises your professor would have asked of you, but won’t expect you to forgo sleep for 3 days straight to prove your “commitment.”
This book is constructed as a series of short “assignments,” commonly known in the design community as “charrettes” — so named for the carts the underslept architecture students of 19th century France rode upon as they frantically worked to amend unfinished drawings. The book begins with basic exercises to get you thinking spatially, slowly building in complexity as it also builds your confidence. My own prized copy was unavailable at the time of this writing, but if my memory serves, none of the exercises are longer than a day’s (or a few afternoons’) work. These charrettes follow a structure similar to the previous book, inviting you first to explore the line, plane, and volume, and what working with each can grant you. This makes it an excellent companion for making sense of the more abstract groundwork laid by Architecture: Form, Space, and Order.
Don’t mistake this 140-page wonder for a mere survey of what you’d get in school; the exercises contained within cover just about all of the physical media techniques used by architects to sort out their ideas on any given project. Digital techniques are largely not covered in this book, but don’t fret about that too much, I’ve often found stopping work in CAD to do a quick model from foam or paper to be a fruitful change of pace. However if you find that not to be the case, these approaches can be approximated by whatever digital modeling program you prefer. These rapid-fire architectural charrettes are certain to serve you well no matter what your relationship to architecture and digital modeling is.
Clear some time and savor each exercise, spacing them out to allow for rest and reflection.
101 Things I Learned in Architecture School by Matthew Frederick
The title is fairly self-explanatory, though I’m living testament that even if you did attend architecture school, you can miss many of these lessons. Better to buy this cheap reference book, and save yourself on hilarious tuition costs.
How do you capture the essence of postmodern architecture in four words? What was the difference between sections and elevations, again? And what the hell is a parti? (only the single most useful design technique in architecture!)
Each of the hundred-and-one architectural lessons occupies a two page spread — one page for a simple and evocative doodle, and the other with a few words to summarize the idea. The previous two books will likely have over-filled even the most focused and diligent mind, and that’s where this one comes in. Let each of its short, sharp lessons serve as a hook for the voluminous information you’ve already absorbed.
An inspired volume to keep on your desk to flip through.
