Architectural Fairy Tales Competition
Collaboration between Pop Architecture & The Hotham Street Ladies.
The Fairy Tales competition invites creatives and designers to submit their own unique architectural fairy tale. Submission requirements are a text narrative and five images.
The brief is as simple and open as a ‘unique architectural fairy tale’, with supporting briefing material commenting that ‘the competition returns at a time when real news is often grim and scary, and ‘fake news’ sows discord and diffidence. In a time like this, storytelling might be the most powerful tool to unlock universal truths and rediscover what matters.’ And furthermore, that ‘these stories are as universal as the buildings we inhabit’ and ‘design is best when it tells a story. Your story.’
Narrative Synopsis
The story explores the social trend of starchitects and their buildings. These buildings are symbols of their egos and are often functionally deficient or not designed in a way which prioritises their inhabitants. They are an exercise in their particular brand of form making. The buildings are about a sole author and do not recognise the tireless work of the others working with/for them. How can we subvert this trend and return the buildings to the people and the common good?
One star does not a firmament make
Once there was a land where the cities and their landscapes were lovely and harmonious with the earth and all whom dwelt there. They were created by architects, men and women and the many shades in between, who came in every shape, colour and size from all stations in life - low and high - and were much valued by all the subjects of the land. The architects worked respectfully together in collective practices made pleasurable by the institution of fair and equitable work rituals. No one ego or name was placed higher than another and they had ample time away from work to spend with family and friends, to pursue their hobbies and have their children without fear of reprisal…now doesn’t that sound like a fairy tale? But this was not always so.
Our tale begins deep within the submerged, rocky base of Boullee’s Temple of Death and Reason where, obscured in the shadowy nether regions of a subterranean colonnade, the secret architectural sect of Diana of Ephesus continues at their needle work. The sisters of the sect had, over the years, fled their unsatisfying jobs in the cities in which they lived- and that were designed not for them- to gather under the protection and mentorship of Diana, mother goddess of fertility and creation.
This is why they left. There was no place for them or their practice in the cult of brand name personality architecture, its principles promoting a reprehensible narcissism where fame is valued over humanity. These male architect gods manifested as powerful and dominating forces. Their religion was one of hero worship and whose needs must be propitiated with unconditional praise. Diana, their champion and protector had led her architect and designer sisters hence, seeking to create something quieter, more collaborative and anonymous.
“If only we could help create the towns and the buildings” was their lament. “It will be our collective skill and endeavour not our name that will make it right.”
So, they kept to their secluded retreat and entertained themselves with works and craft and studies. They developed their creativity, reading and discussing their ideas and supporting each other though listening and encouragement. Together, they imagined that they could magically transform the landscape, the towns and the cities and the buildings, and they dreamt of the world they could create together.
One day Diana sent her sisters out into the world to see the master works so they might know what to avoid. They followed a long passage which led them to a great city where each building was known not just for its form and function but its famed author. As they wandered the streets, they noticed that the city was haunted by a foul and noxious miasma which stung their eyes and sickened their stomachs. Lonely citizens moved dead eyed past the grand soulless edifices oppressed by their inability to connect to their environment and each other, and dispirited women and children huddled in their stark interiors and fretted over where to place this thing or that so as not to upset the imposed stark order.
They walked through this dark and perilous land, and drank in its tyranny until their eyes were like stars and a fire grew in their bellies. Eager to share what they saw with their sisters, they Face Timed Diana. Deep within the cave, the sect gathered around the iPad to hear their stories.
“Tell us sisters, what did you see?” asked Diana
“I saw a round building that fetishized a man’s genius, its principles promoting the total absence of ornament and other”, said one.
“I saw a rectangle that had no soul”
“I saw an ostentatious jumble that helped define a man’s name above all others”
“I saw many erections that left me unstirred”
They raised their phones to show their sisters all that they saw, and together they decided that it was finally their time to use their skills to change their world. They returned to the grotto where they talked and talked, and finally conceived of a magic cloth they would spin together that would blow apart this male fantasy: a resplendent, vivid and richly textured building fabric, which - when joined at the seams - would shroud the egotistic constructions with a riotously decorative display, and right all the wrongs.
And Diana and her sisters each plucked a hair and added it to the thread so they might weave in their compassion, their selflessness, their humour and their sensitivity until the magic fabric shimmered like a bird’s wing and radiated warmth and well-being.
Back out into the world they went with a renewed sense of purpose and power. The sisters threw their magic fabrics high into the firmament to catch the stars and when they fell the buildings were enveloped with potent symbols of female fertility and fecundity, casting out the city’s revolting aura of self-serving fame.
When the miasma dissipated the shimmering, magical fabric had transformed the city in to a delectable place that was fertile for many fresh and inviting uses, bejewelled with buildings made of a great variety of materials and smothered with vegetation and flowers. The citizens found much to delight in their new environments- within and without- and they revelled in each other’s company as all felt welcome and included.
And the architectural sect of Diana did not revel in the glory but instead ushered in the contribution of many new collaborators and creators to establish a land where the cities and their landscapes were lovely and harmonious with the earth and all whom dwelt there because they were created by architects, men and women and the many shades in between, who came in every shape, colour and size from all stations in life - low and high - and were much valued by all the subjects of the land. The architects worked respectfully together in collective practices made pleasurable by the institution of fair and equitable work rituals. No one ego or name was placed higher than another and they had ample time away from work to spend with family and friends, to pursue their hobbies and have their children without fear of reprisal.
The End