‘opposites’ dining pavilion render
-“honorable mention” (in the words of Marlon Blackwell lol) - york prize competition (1st year design studio)
-requirements: dining pavilion for 2, site given (slope which overlooks a water body), model.drawings.render)
gist of it:
-two paths/experiences, 1 central dining space
-took the heidi weber roof system and applied it to the sloping site
-users experiences the system as both a ground and roof plane
-unfortunately i never finished my model (sdflksjdlfsdjf)
(it was 9 am the day of the competition, i got a cumulative 10 hours of sleep that week, i was still making my 40”x40” rockite mold and realized the pour wasn’t going work and all my efforts were fruitless. nevertheless it was memorable )
trying to figure out the genius that is le corb
this semester has been amazing (i was so miserable last).
never slept so little, worked so hard and enjoyed it so much.
i’m so happy these days
No Excuses - Air France
grade twelve art summative:
another shot at digital painting, this time exploring repetition and motion!
-Super tired everyday. Ten cups of green tea doesn’t cut it. Can’t wait to sleep. Can’t wait for AP Physics to be over. We made a DC ammeter today, most likely won’t work. Feels like I’m in a permanent zombie state and there is nothing i can do.
-Got into my dream program, but still feeling guilty about going into the field i want to go into, like i am abandoning academia for good. Also scared about making friends. Posted a room-mate profile on facebook. Nothing yet.
-Terribly excited for next semester. Taking courses I think I will enjoy: Biology, Linear Algebra, AP Euro History. Most excited for the latter.
-Had a spur of the moment realization that I need to collect as many memories as I can from now until the end of the year. Hoping to take lots of videos of my friends. Got a new camera (T2i) because of this. Must sell old camera.
“I want you.” He extended his long finger at her, at eye-level, so she could see.
“Please don’t say that.”
“You just can’t say things like that.” She paused and her eyes fell. “Because you may want me, and I may want you but I’m thirsty, really thirsty. Do you understand? You might change me and I don’t want that.”
They met at a friend’s wedding two years back, both sporting summer skin and lazy smiles. They talked over champagne and danced when it wasn’t time to. She was drawn to him but she didn’t know why. It wasn’t good looks or nice smelling hair. She sensed he was full inside—not from anything tangible—but from something she knew she no longer possessed. And it appeared as if it would never run out. Like some everlasting spring.
They spent the rest of that summer on grassy fields staring at the night sky, talking about how the universe was expanding, how they owed it to the ones in heaven to make their lives mean something. And if silence ever came they’d stare into each other’s souls and improvise some dialogue in their heads.
If anyone asked that summer, they’d blame love.
But come winter things were different—she was thirsty again. Before dusk, she found herself wandering around cemeteries alone, reading the names of the deceased out loud, a bit curious of the warm, rising air that was her breath.
She tried digging once on some plot of land as if he was buried there. She tried digging and digging looking for that spring, for something she could hold on to. The clink of her shovel was what she wanted to hear. But the world was empty and there was nothing more.
They existed only as two pieces of driftwood then, aimless, just floating along. She didn’t know it, but she was waiting all this time. Like they were at some empty railroad for a train that would never come. But not once did they stop to wish for its arrival, for the long hollow sound of its steam whistle.
Then one day they found themselves there—at that station.
“The train’s coming,” she whispered.
“Where? I don’t see anything.”
“I know you don’t, I know. But it’s okay.” Her head turned towards the track. She was looking at an empty space surrounded by trees and broken concrete posts, in anticipation.
Then, suddenly, she screamed—for as long as she could. It was the kind that could shake the sky a bit, the kind that someone—anyone—would make if nobody was watching.
“The train’s here,” she said.
“Why are you leaving? Where are you going? Don’t go…” He was puzzled but not as puzzled as her, he knew. He’d be able to understand eventually.
“Sometimes you’re thirsty, really thirsty. If you drink, your world becomes empty and you’re left to deal with the cold—and yourself. Sometimes the world changes.” She looked at him. “I don’t know where I’m going or where I’ll be. But it’s okay. As long as I start moving and make some noise. As long as I end up somewhere, finding something to fill up my world—for now.”