Thoughts

The Real Dimension of Construction

A self-construction is, first and foremost, a built fact. Ephemeral self-built wooden devices are characterized by two dimensions: one spatial and one temporal. The former is a tectonic dimension, the latter an ephemeral one.

The ephemeral is a built fact destined to disappear, to be dismantled and transformed—like all built facts, like all earthly existence. This character assigns it a place on a timescale that is measured by, and appropriate to, human affairs. Perhaps this is also why, among the various manifestations of human industriousness, it is one of those that adopts a reality principle not merely as self-assertion, but as an acceptance of the limits imposed by reality. From this perspective, then, the character of the ephemeral lies not so much in being destined to disappear, but in existing for a given time—a time necessary to find a disposition, that is, an active placement, a purpose, which in human affairs is generally relational in nature. The condition of reality, therefore, does not reside solely in the concreteness of its constructive dimension, but in the awareness and acceptance of these limits.

The active disposition for non-specialized architectural devices—which are not uniquely determined to fulfill a specific program—effectively translates into being welcoming, in a porous condition that allows the projections of expectations and the potentialities of the communities and individuals who come into contact with them. The logic of workshops is to interpret places and measure or test their potential, for the most part without introducing a predetermined programmatic presence. This is a logic not of colonization, but of (re)appropriation.

The tectonic dimension accompanies that of the ephemeral because it is the one that best enables its existence. «Needless to say, I am not clean-reveling in construction technique but rather emphasizing its expressive potential. My assumption is that the inevitably earthbound nature of building is as much tectonic and tactile as it is scenographic and visual, although none of these attributes can deny its spatiality. Nonetheless, we can assert that the built is first and foremost a concrete construction and, only subsequently, an abstract discourse based on surface, volume, and plan»1. This is a dimension of concreteness that allows no concealment of the act of building. If the construction of form always passes through the form of construction, the process in this case rarely concludes with the autonomy of form with respect to construction. Rather than how it looks, how it is made appears.

The Generative Dimension of Thickness

The tectonic character of ephemeral architectures intersects—it is fair to say—the theme of the matrix, even before a system of rules and language, synthesizing a more general generative dimension. Indeed, even in its most abstract mathematical declination, the matrix recalls an idea of weaving, of warp and weft, of an ordering and operational device, of a relational system—echoing the tectonic dimension stated above. «I have never considered architecture as an hermetic object or a piece of art [...] but as something given to other people so that, under certain conditions, they may interpret it. [...] Paradoxically, I have sometimes heard other architects say that their works were made to be contemplated. This has to do with abstraction [...] which, although a necessary tool to design and pose the questions generated by any statement, requires a return to reality and its materialization for it to be inhabitable. [...] Reality lies where life unfolds, with that power that always manifests itself over time, whether in the form of climatic variation, user interpretation, or appropriation of the place. Our profession consists not so much in generating outlines, but conditions: material elements with their geometries, scales, and ways of arranging themselves in space and time [...] that can be interpreted by the people who will occupy them and that will materialize through habitability. The architect and professor Dani Freixes commented that architectures conceived from outlines are more masculine, while those that generate certain conditions to optimize and improve habitability are feminine. [...] An architecture of conditions is like the architecture of that maternal womb that welcomes you, allowing you to inhabit a home-space»2.

The generative dimension is a dimension of the edge rather than the outline, of the margin rather than the limit, and is intrinsically thick, predisposed to managing complexity. In fact, conditions of habitability are normally linked to an increased concentration of artifacts, objects, and devices. The articulation of space allows certain parts to be characterized, modeling their form so that they can better respond to specific uses and practices. When this occurs, an increase in the density of events, presences, and relationships is recorded. Often, these types of dense aggregations manifest along edges, in transition areas, or where conformations—such as interstitial ones—"naturally" favor an increase in density. A preparatory cortical apparatus is then generated, allowing life to take root, much like a hard and arid surface etched by pioneer species, or the endometrium that colonizes the uterus at cyclical time intervals. Space and time, once again.

The word “thick” (spesso) has two meanings: the first qualifies a significant transverse dimension relative to the other two spatial dimensions; the second describes a condition that repeats with a certain frequency over time (spesso meaning “often” in Italian). The dimension of thickness is therefore characterized by these two entities, in both cases related to quantity: quantity of matter, quantity of time. The condition for referencing frequency is that the identity of a phenomenon remains unchanged, thereby resulting in its cyclical repetition. The nature of thickness originating from the accumulation of matter can take different forms, but it will always refer to this inseparable pairing of spatial and temporal quantities: matter and repetition. Construction is a human (and social) fact that emerges from chaos and the accidental, and it can be replicated; it follows a matrix, establishes hierarchies and orders, and, if not necessarily requiring a blueprint, needs at least rules and coordinates. Repetition is the key to recognizing, reading, or establishing an order—to writing a code, replicating it, or varying it. Whatever the form of thickness, its constitutive nature is closely identified with a tectonic dimension in which construction and form tend to coincide. From this point of view, the action of building holds even greater interest than the built form itself, shifting the emphasis from the project to the process.

The Complex Dimension of Thickening

The action of thickening operates at two different scales: a constructive one and a proximity one. The former has an objective dimension, measurable both in aspects related to material construction and figurative construction (language); the latter has a qualitative dimension that extends the depth of the former—a relational dimension that depends on the conditions into which it is inserted and the subjects and places with which it interacts.

_constructive. The construction system is defined by only two materials and two rules. Since the origins of these fifteen years of experimentation, the chosen building materials have been wood and steel. Wood has been used in various forms over time: studs, boards, panels, and pallets; steel has been used in one form and one form only: screws.

Over time, a process of reduction began toward a single construction element with a strong longitudinal development, to the detriment of other planar forms. This choice identified solid coniferous wood studs as the best basic element for construction. While constructive reductionism on one hand facilitates the clarity and effectiveness of the educational experience and reduces the ecological footprint, on the other hand, it diminishes the line of experimentation on simple planar forms (panels) and complex ones (pallets), which have likely not exhausted their exploratory potential both in terms of form and the variety of supportable programs and practices of use.

Reductionism also immediately extended to the constructive choice linked to the use of steel, which is used solely in the form of screws of various sizes and purposes. The steel almost disappears from sight, save for minimal appearances, occasionally lingering on the finishing detail of the head, embellished by the drive recess (Torx, now preferred over Phillips). The underlying logic is to avoid exposing the screws to view unless strictly necessary, and in any case, to manage their installation along alignments that, if they do not contribute to building a language as subordinates, do not introduce excessive background noise either.

This choice, which brings wood to the forefront and seems centered solely on making the steel disappear, is the determining condition for achieving an effective and efficient type of shear joint, with nodes made through direct wood-to-wood contact. The shear joint maximizes the mechanical properties of the steel screws and wood fibers, distributing forces along axes that are always perpendicular to their respective longitudinal axes, thereby ensuring maximum resistance to the stress of both materials. This overcomes the limitation imposed by the anisotropy of wood, which offers particularly low resistance parallel to the grain, pushing the limits of the screw's anchoring effectiveness.

Although on the level of image, the first layer of communication is conveyed by the material’s color, grain, and finish, it is the construction technique that is strictly related to building a recognized and recognizable language, coherent from the scale of the node to that of the entire layout. Indeed, the shear joint, executed by means of screws, allows for construction by weaving, through an explicitly and linguistically tectonic exposed framework. The fundamental rule for constructing the node necessary for this weaving is, in fact, doubling through overlapping or juxtaposition. All elements necessary for the development of the construction are made following this assembly rule. Whether creating isolated posts, load-bearing walls, horizontal or vertical screens, bracing, buttresses, anchorages, ballast boxes, linear seating, integrated seating, or even isolated seats—the stools that over time have begun to accompany every new workshop episode—the juxtaposition of elements is the fundamental rule for correct assembly.

_proximity. Following the thread of construction, each level possesses its own relational projection in terms of environmental context, physical space, vegetation, and inhabitants. The visual disappearance of steel exposes wood as the "sole" material of construction. As mentioned, this becomes the most immediate vehicle of communication, especially due to its visual characteristics. This initial perception, which is also highly mediated, is merely a precursor to the material’s tactile properties, which lend depth to the image, enriching it with deeper and more physically engaging bodily perceptions. Its pleasantness to the touch is due to its smooth yet open-pore finish and low thermal conductivity.

The tectonic dimension of the construction, synthesized by the node and the rhythm expressed through the rules of juxtaposition and assembly of parts, can express itself in language, which inherently defines a potential semiotic relational field played along the lines of traceability and tractability of similar interventions across a territory. However, it is the constructive elements that these nodes allow to be realized—such as pillars, beams, buttresses, struts, tie rods, bracing, walls, screens, horizontal enclosures, seating, and ballasts—that extend the semantic field of the thickening action, linking its constitutive tectonic dimension to a morphological and utilitarian one.

If the cadenced rhythm of the wooden weaves is also a form of adaptation to the context that lightens the form from any imposing ambitions, blurring them into a chiaroscuro vibration, the resulting visual permeability builds conditions of habitability operating on different levels. At a first level, permeability translates into spaces that can be walked through and occupied by people—spaces for moving and staying, rather than objects to look at. At a second level, visual permeability reinforces the site's role as a presence; it is an architecture that does not aim to be seen, but to make seen—to show the life that surrounds, traverses, and inhabits it, while simultaneously increasing social safety and a sense of belonging. A third level translates into providing a suitable support for interaction with vegetation. The framed systems and screens are optimal supports for growth, protection from excessive heat, or wind breaks. These levels of interaction help root these small architectures to their places, including through seasonal cyclicality, while simultaneously reinforcing the creation of habitats improved by favorable bioclimatic micro-conditions.

The two scales of action of the verb to thicken move according to that dynamic of triggering and relation well described by Mansilla and Tuñón in the text “Arranque y oscilación”3, according to which, given an idea external to the context that serves as a trigger for constructing a system (formal, constructive), it is then the confrontation with reality that negotiates limits, finds potential, and determines the variations of a design development. The a priori choice of a simple construction system does not translate into a pouring out of objects indifferent to the context and self-resolved, but on the contrary, into a search for an encounter that is also tactile. This is well expressed by the verb used by the Spanish architects, rozarse (to touch, to brush against), which finds the synthesis of this experience within the dimension of the construction process, in that adherence to a reality principle recalled at the beginning.

The Dimension of the Everyday

In relation to human experience, long time is akin to an abstraction, whereas the interval—the short or cyclical duration, such as a seasonal one—shares the present time, that of life. The ephemeral condition of architecture is thus placed within a human timescale, in a generative and habitable dimension. This helps ensure that each self-construction experience can be a potential incubator and catalyst for events, tensions, relationships, measurements, anticipations, and mirages that stimulate the environment into which they are inserted, helping to trigger a habitat process.

The duration of this habitat can be tightly linked to the specific device, to the experience as a whole, or it can be the vanguard of a more stable future system. In the first case, the duration will be short and the built devices ephemeral in the fullest sense; in the second case, it can have a prolonged duration through the care taken by a community, up to the limits of the materials' durability; in the third case, it can aspire to a longer duration through replacement with permanent devices or a new design of the space.

Habitat shares a common origin with habitus, falling within the sphere of the Latin verb habeo (to have). If we look at this verb from a perspective of duration—not of consumption, but of use—then its meaning can be that of making something one’s own, of something becoming part of existence. It is interesting to highlight, then, its proximity to the term habit (custom/abitudine), because that is where the authentic placement of self-construction experiences is found: in the ordinary, in the everyday, in the dimension of the mirror (see the manifesto in this text), outside of any self-referential object logic. Turning the funnel upside down, the semantic field of habeo definitively loses the connotation of possession to veer toward a relational nuance necessary for the (re)generative processes that DAE (dispositivi autocostruiti effimeri_ephemeral self-built embedded devices) attempt to unfold: to (re)appropriate something, in its broadest and most social meaning of adopting and taking care.