wallpaper

I had half a mind to continue over the windows but thought better of it...
needless to say I had architectural nightmares

good advice

Thank God for Tesco Allergy advice...
I, for one, would never had thought that milk contained milk.

the Beano.

"The freckled face of Rooney appeared on field, as if fresh from the pages of the Beano..."
C4 News journalism, you've gotta love it.

well hello out there

Back. (So it wasn't exactly 'shortly' but who's counting...)
Hmmm...I seem to have absolutely nothing to impart unto the virtual terrain, ah well.
Let us all become lotus-eaters and be done with it.

back shortly

...in stasis for the very near future, I shall depart with some, perhaps relevant, words of Schopenhauer; an excerpt from his essay 'On the Suffering of the World' (not recommended reading if one's feeling suicidal):

[4]

"Not the least of the torments which plague our existence is the constant pressure of time, which never lets us so much as draw breath but pursues us all like a taskmaster with a whip. It ceases to persecute only him it has delivered over to boredom."

...crikey, he was a cheerful chap.

off to see the wizard

Hello out there... This post is brought to you from yonder... in the sky... to be more precise, lets see... I’m now above Tekirdag (which is on the coast of the Sea of Mamara, of course), near Istanbul.... but not for long, only 8646km and 9 hrs to get to Singapore, then another few to Adelaide! Its apparently -52 degrees outside (nice) and we’re travelling at 620mph, 10,000 m above sea level.
And sure we have wifi up here - how cool is that?! (ok, so its not that cool, but hey).
So off to oz for a couple of weeks, we are taking part in the Adelaide Arts Festival (hence why I have my laptop, p-lease, of course I wouldn’t take her *cough* it on holiday with me).
More to come... of course nothings free, 10 dollars an hour for access up here so I think I’ll log off and ruminate on the dynamics of empty crisp packets falling from two arbitrary points in space, amongst other things. Or I think I’ll just go to sleep... been awake for about 2 days now, had a jury (where we present to our stuff to an external panel of critics) yesterday, so was busy preparing for that, not a complete disaster, which was nice... ramble ramble ramble...
I’m obviously having trouble understanding what I’m doing with this blog... is it a diary? Is it about architecture? Is it supposed to disseminate information? Or make one laugh? I don’t know...

Ps. Go check out Carina Round, she rocks! Deserves a bigger audience for sure - saw her last week at the Hoxton kitchen... raw.

within storage, the beach

the posterman

...from his monograph;
Ken Sprague, People's Artist - deserves a closer look, methinks (Consequently, you may be able to attach an author to some of those apparently random images stored in your head)

seen any kegs lately?

Be afraid, all you keg snatchers out there...
Don't look a me!... I don't even drink

lead by example?

So these are the type of people who 'teach' me at the aa.
See?
It all becomes clear...

privacy wars

“...London wasn’t the first city I’d lived in, but it was certainly the largest. Anywhere else there is always the chance of seeing someone you know, or at the very least, a smiling face. Not here. Commuters crowd the trains, eager to outdo their fellow travellers in an escalating privacy war of paperbacks, headphones and newspapers….”
- Belle De Jour: Intimate Adventures of a London Call Girl

My weapon of choice has got to be the paperback. Better still paperback and headphones emitting inaudible music... and sunglasses (especially when it’s dark). Alternatively, may as well cover my head with a paper bag (might attract peculiar looks but, fortunately perhaps, I wouldn't notice)
So what’s yours?

Just occurred to me that if one wishes to spread propaganda, could do much worse than a tube ad... whenever I happen to make eye contact (which appears to be a heinous crime) with a fellow passenger in a carriage, our eyes involuntarily and immediately avert their gaze aloft to re-read that (most interesting) advertisement regarding travel insurance; yes, the one I’d just read six times in the preceding four minutes...

star*ucks? - phase two

'phase two'.... or what happens when the
rave comes to town ( more specifically;
when it sets up in your exhibition space)

starbucks or star*ucks?

(Recent installation exhibited in December at Event:space gallery, Bethnal Green.)

Mixed media installation; Analogue text, digital animation and video projection.

Coffee outlets provide a privileged space of 'home' away from home. It is the 'third space', homelike but not domicile, selective and branded, specific in style and function. This industry is dominated by Starbucks, who promotes itself as an extension of one's home, providing an environment of comfort and coffee for a social unit. But is its global proliferation and stronghold over the coffee industry posing a threat to the urbanscape, saturating cities with their brand, eliminating diversity and culture? Is their sprawling network of outlets cloning the high streets, diluting identity and commercializing heritage for the sake of economic gain?
We explore 'home' within the Starbucks outlet. Coffee retail is one of the UK's fastest growing industries, and London boasts the second highest density of Starbucks in the world. With their rapid growth for long term dominance, will we eventually find our 'home' and a latte on every street corner?

The design is derived from information in the form of data statistics, online research, interviews, case studies, individual judgments and opinions. Through this knowledge a critique is developed towards the proliferation of the Starbucks model. It is a study which highlights commercial globalization, advertisement propaganda, marketing campaigns and expression of thoughts and sentiments. The individual versus the collective. The people versus Starbucks.
The space becomes a changing region of information, a situation created to negotiate between personal feelings and reality. The walls become a dynamic surface through participation over time. The coffee table, the heart of the coffee lounge, is an object of intervention. It is the interface for which we can govern a virtual condition of the future volume of Starbucks. The installation expands with existing and new material, forming a collection of data from which one draws a personal conclusion.

Concieved and constructed by:
Pavandeep S. Panesar - Kevin Ling - Yumeng Chan
12.05

the setup...


myself pretending to be a disinterested subject...


Interactive coffee table before.
Interactive coffee table after.
The lads.
The aftermath.
Desire for individuality.

festive cheer

I happened to find myself in Venice last month so, of course, went along to the Biennale. They were handing out free Illy coffee pods at the entrance which I thought kind of absurd (presumably I'm supposed to suck it for a caffeine buzz?); the old tin of mushy peas without a tin-opener conundrum. On wondering around, I stumbled upon a big shiny Illy espresso machine... et voila; coffee pod + coffee machine = you got it, fresh espresso! (Ok, so not all that fresh, considering it was from a pod). Yes, great marketing Illy, I must commend you.
Oh, and the exhibits were pretty good too.




Anyway... I think this pic (incidentally, the last one I took) describes Venice perfectly and presents a suitably festive ambiance. Merry Chrimbo.

spoookay...

Durham. Cathedral. Monolithic. Night. Drizzle. Floodlight. Ephemeral. Alone.

pantomime socialist thuggery?

"Was New Labour really so different? Refresh your memory of the previous version by looking at John Prescott — the pantomime socialist thug conveniently retained by Mr Blair in the meaningless post of deputy prime minister to appease the old guard. Mr Prescott, virtually invisible during this campaign, was the party Mr Blair inherited. Ponder that, look at the party now, and see how far it has come."
Economist 05.05.05 (print edition)

'fatty-two-jags', one has to love him, no?...

a sign of our times...

How unreservedly apt.
Need I say more?
Quite.

so why do i have a 'blog'?

Fantastic.

WhyIHateWebLogs

This one's for you A

plastic fantastic

Have you ever seen such a ridiculous object? It’s great; it even demodulates FM (which you probably won't hear over the amusement of your friends).
And the fun doesn’t stop there, lo and behold, the little chick(?) has (equally ridiculous) egg shaped friends... yes that green ones a frog.



The designer must have been having an acid flashback from a bad trip exhibited in those long forgotten bohemian days...

Ok, so I may have too much time on my hands...

kids, hey

“What about the dog Bim? And the chickens; they are to be fed”

“I wanted Harry Potter to Come (with his invisible cloak, yes we will not be seen)...”

“I like my dress, it cost three hundred roubles. (no you cant have it to mop up blood)”

“This is where he shot my dad in the head and threw him out of the window.”

“God? I don’t know, there is only force, military force.”

Words of some of the children survivors from the Beslan Massacre… They aired a documentary made by talking only to the children, it was strangely surreal, these cute little kids, doing what kids do, conveying the rather heinous imagery of their experience told with a paradoxically ingenuous yet deliberate tone. To turn down the volume one could have been watching ‘Kids Say the Sweetest Things’ with your ridiculously smarmy host Michael Barrymore… perhaps. But no, unfortunately we have a group of children mentally scarred talking of anger, revenge, and blowing up some Chechens in return. Eight years old. Certainly, kids tend to say things as they see them, sweet or not.

Violence breeds violence. What civilised sacks of steadily putrefying cells we are. Somewhere else, a rebel asked about Beslan laughs and throws across a remark about the children of Chechnya; ‘this is Beslan every day, our children are killed every day’ . Indeed. But what about the children of humanity; I fear they are dead already. Can you not feel their dry brittle little bones snapping under your feet as you walk blind through the forest?

Nobody informs you that you can see… it’s a tree. Not a figment of your imagination.

hide your school minibuses

"I'm siphoning gas from the high school bus
Into the tank of my beat-up bug
So I can drive away from the shouting and misery
I drive into the night, to the hill, to the water tower
To lie on my back and drink in the meteor shower
Knowing that many men have lain as i do now
Ptolemy, Copernicus, Carl Jung
Pondering his existence,pondering..."
(paula cole, amen)

Have to be the best lyrics i've heard since... well, since the day before yesterday.
Three cheers for Ms. Cole.

back from nowhere (in particular)

Hey I'm back. Its strange, the last time I posted, must have been at uni - the busier I became the more time there was to blog. Ok so that doesn't seem rational; thus is life. Been relativley chilled out over the summer (relativey, being the operative word), hence the shortfall of posts (just to follow through on that curious logic).

Cool, I appear to have some comments, so people read this then... well, that can't be bad! Take it easy...

Political compass

Apparently this is my political compass - see how you fare at www.politicalcompass.org - there is some interesting research on the site


compare and contrast...

5.7.5

Buildings cast shadows;
Concealing yet revealing.
A defiant sun.

Lessons from the twisted staple

The projected self may oft reveal, explore its nuances.



Perception follows the chosen vector; question your position.


The twisted staple is perverse; It's virtue lies within.

I'm Analogue

I had a sudden pang of realisation… observing my room, as I sit at my rolled aluminium and tempered glass desk, pushing plastic buttons adorned with the semiotic nomenclature of communication. Those cast plastic nodules conveniently click back into position; encouraged by sitting atop little domed rubber membranes fighting the unequivocal ‘constant’ that is gravity… everything around me is made, is processed by man, nothing here exists in its natural state, myself excluded? But that, I cover with textile, I douse in chemicals; I am human yet...

Staring onto an abyss of electrons, soaking up the rays from my reflection I wonder; does this not blight the spirit? I know no other. How different would be birth into the Stone Age, knocking up flint with my axe, kindling, fire, bush-craft. Rabits need not hats. Delivered into the receptacle of dirt. An organic symbiosis. Does a farmer feel different? Working the earth with his hands… I am detached, I breath, I walk, I connect.

I think I shall buy some pot-plants.

GT6 Mk II

Oh Lord won't you buy me.... a triumph GT6 Mark II? (Perhaps a little more realistic than a Merc. on my wages anyway)

So what do you think? A dinky classic-British-sportscar from '68; yeah! the swingin' 60s. Baby. (Of which I played no part, of course) well, there's no time like the present...
It has a straight six block, rotoflex rear suspension, 2000cc, 0-60 in around nine seconds, max speed of 110mph - yes yes, you may laugh, you may trounce my sedate four cog 'box at the lights in your modern plasticky super-mini (with about as much aesthetic appeal as Mr blobby in his birthday suit, might I add).

Would you not prefer to just sit back and cruise? Cosseted by those figure hugging seats, gazing past the (real) wood instrument panel over the elongated bonnet, caging in the animalistic straight six rumbling in protest as it tries to disengage from its shackles? Or would you rather remain in that 1.3 litre Nissan with its wonderful real plastic fittings, smiley face and tinny doors? But that is an unfair comparison, I hear you say.

For 6k, take your pick. I kid you not, for 6k, one could pick up a mature 37 year old beauty or a new fresh faced nondescript 'bloid'; I know which one I’d go for. Alas! Where now is Michellotti of Turin, whom so lovingly forged the lines of the GT6? He whom caressed those panels; flaring out in just the right planes.
Further still, let’s get back to the money; I’d be exempt from road tax, and depreciation? Not for a classic, my friend, I would most likely end up selling for a profit.
Sounds appealing, doesn’t it?

I shall fill you in on the real storey of classic car ownership when I can muster up that six thousand... Until then, I shall persist gazing through my rose tinted spectacles...

So thats how it's done...

how to tie a turban

A portrait of the architect as an old man

Le Corbusier 1887-1965
Gandhi 1869-1948
Philip Johnson 1906-2005
Peter Cook 1936-

So who's the odd one out?

Musical politicians

Read something recently about Bush releasing his iPod tracklist... an attempt to pretend that he's human, perhaps?

Here are a few tracks I think some of our guys should download (if they haven't already, that is):

Howard Flight - "The Way It Really Is" (Lisa Loeb)

Ed Matts - "My Fantasy" (Fisher)

Charles Kennedy - "Timing Is Everything" (Elysian Fields)

Michael Howard - "No One's Ever What They Seem" (The Method and Result)

Tony Blair - "Everything Old Is New Again" (The Method and Result)

(I suppose it's not so great a surprise to find Howard and Blair listening to the same band)

And Gordon Brown, with his salubrious fiscal policy (and stealth taxation) can afford to download three tracks onto his high capacity 40 Gigabyte (and gold plated)
iPod:
"I Don't Want To Wait" (Paula Cole)
"Till I Get My Way" (The black Keys)
"My Turn Will Come" (Heavenly)

Ok, enough procrastination on my part.... back to work...

Testing... feat. the cat

Hmm, just checking out how to post a pic on this thing...

Here's my mate, 'the cat', what may only be described as nesting in some hay, maybe incubating some eggs for his little pigeon friends... in the urban wasteland otherwise known as my back garden. Turns up in some strange places, this kitty.



right, so html is not so complicated after all then...

Polarisation, wealth, perspective

I'm into the wee hours of the morning doing some work for a tutorial tomorrow... came across this video (whilst taking a tea break, of course, which actually tastes rather rank, but that’s another story) - a must see!

worldonfire

its by sarah mclaughlin; whatever you think of the music, that’s one heck of a message (yes its all been said before) but rarely put across so well, and actually carried out, I think, especially by a popstar type person.

well, its back to the drawing board for me...

Institutionalising identity?

Im doing a project to design a 'cultural institution' at the moment which has thrown up a lot of questions regarding identity politics and 'difference'. I decided to look at my own identity as a Sikh and to use this to inform the design of a cultural centre which would specifically cater for the needs of the contemporary Sikh demographic. So what better place to choose my site than Southall in West London; it was the primary point of settlement for the Punjabi Sikhs coming into the UK in the 50s and 60s. (Oh, if you're interested I must plug Dennis Morris's book, Southall; A Home From Home, a great collection of photos from that period - yeah, Morris is the guy who also travelled with and photographed the Sex Pistols and Marley!)

This Sunday I'll be going down to the Vaiskai Festival in Southall, the biggest of its kind over here, should be rather interesting day. (nb. guess I should mention that Vaisaki marks the day (13th April) on which the tenth Sikh Guru initiated the Khalsa...)

Thats all for now, folks...

...My first 'blog

hello all... So, this is my first attempt at 'blogging', I probably shan't get to post that often for now (no great loss, indeed) as I'm busy with my finals... Here I come 'real world'!

But, hey, you never know; it might be worth popping back sometime - I shan't promise to be intellectually cohesive or anything, we'll see what happens...

Life in beautifully grimey London will probably figure somewhat as well architecture and the urban environment, after all, thats what I 'do'. So here's to my virtual sketchbook...