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Deep structure is felt in all of us, informing our everyday interactions and acts of creation. These primal memories are ancient, and as Cecil Balmond explains, inescapable. Here he contemplates how we came to make sense our world and the mysterious power of these very first archetypes. Deep structure is a drum that beats behind organisation – a primal memory of the algorithms that paved the way for survival. Line, Branch, Point, Arc, Zigzag became the grammar of a graphic language. From the hollow cave and womb the closed shell took shape; from weaving and the making of shelter with skin on sticks built up the idea of frame and frameworks. We grew braver, more complex, and explored the labyrinth. The spiral, turning in lost and escape through its dervish element. Nothing or everything was our fate. Both at the beginning and at the end of our lives were the singularities to zero or infinity; the vortex became a puzzle – terrifying to get lost in, and resurrection to emerge again transformed. To keep track we counted. We classified ten beats on our fingers. We created metaphors and concepts out of the numbers. One for Unity and completeness. Two, duality – the balance of opposites – bipolar, diurnal, as you to me, different and yet the same. Three was the essence of equilibrium. (A three pattern offered the countermove to the stark onetwo that pulled in opposite directions and tore things apart.) Three offered better balance. (Waltztime is more amenable than the twostep.) Four composed the Elements and its harmonies – Earth, Air, Fire and Water: Hot, Dry, Cold and Wet added sympathetic characteristics. The square became the mnemonic for such justice, pulling together the four attributes of the world into one drawing of equal parts. Five marked the Pentagon, the Pentacle, and the Magic beyond. Only five regular solids could pack space. We have five senses – sight, smell, touch, taste and hearing – a Pentagram gateway to what is perceived. The other numbers magnified or added qualities. The first five took shape: But before this from the fashioning of nature and the design graphic of our mind a picture language developed. The base motifs are few: As we think to create form we punctuate space, we cannot escape the trace – arching, bridging, folding, packing. There is rhythm as we fork or branch, each node another buried beat. As we fold, each ridge is a structure. As we pack things together in loose or tight fit, contacts vibrate. As the patterns grow nesting in the elements of architecture, the composition awakens harmony or sharp dissonance that recall safety or danger, stability or imminent collapse. Unbearable tensions or repeating compliances – deep structure is always felt. A large part of our survival is built out of such rhythms. Be it in the breeze or the rise and fall of an ancient chant, we hear it. Be it in the organic of a city or the spell of Stonehenge, we read it. Be it in the surge of the ocean or the ripple of the pond, we sense its profile. Be it in the texture and colours of a painting, we touch its vibration. Be it in a piece of architecture?

Cecil Balmond - Deep Strcuture

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The structure of things

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Deep  structure  is  felt  in  all  of  us,  informing  our  everyday  interactions  and  acts  of  creation.  These  primal  memories  are  ancient,  and  as  Cecil  Balmond  explains,  inescapable.  Here  he  contemplates  how  we  came  to  make  sense  our  world  and  the  mysterious  power  of  these  very  first  archetypes.    Deep  structure  is  a  drum  that  beats  behind  organisation  –  a  primal  memory  of  the  algorithms  that  paved  the  way  for  survival.    Line,  Branch,  Point,  Arc,  Zigzag  became  the  grammar  of  a  graphic  language.  From  the  hollow  cave  and  womb  the  closed  shell  took  shape;  from  weaving  and  the  making  of  shelter  with  skin  on  sticks  built  up  the  idea  of  frame  and  frameworks.  We  grew  braver,  more  complex,  and  explored  the  labyrinth.  The  spiral,  turning  in  lost  and  escape  through  its  dervish  element.  Nothing  or  everything  was  our  fate.  Both  at  the  beginning  and  at  the  end  of  our  lives  were  the  singularities  to  zero  or  infinity;  the  vortex  became  a  puzzle  –  terrifying  to  get  lost  in,  and  resurrection  to  emerge  again  transformed.    To  keep  track  we  counted.  We  classified  ten  beats  on  our  fingers.  We  created  metaphors  and  concepts  out  of  the  numbers.  One  for  Unity  and  completeness.  Two,  duality  –  the  balance  of  opposites  –  bipolar,  diurnal,  as  you  to  me,  different  and  yet  the  same.  Three  was  the  essence  of  equilibrium.  (A  three  pattern  offered  the  counter-­‐move  to  the  stark  one-­‐two  that  pulled  in  opposite  directions  and  tore  things  apart.)  Three  offered  better  balance.  (Waltz-­‐time  is  more  amenable  than  the  two-­‐step.)    Four  composed  the  Elements  and  its  harmonies  –  Earth,  Air,  Fire  and  Water:  Hot,  Dry,  Cold  and  Wet  added  sympathetic  characteristics.  The  square  became  the  mnemonic  for  such  justice,  pulling  together  the  four  attributes  of  the  world  into  one  drawing  of  equal  parts.  Five  marked  the  Pentagon,  the  Pentacle,  and  the  Magic  beyond.  Only  five  regular  solids  could  pack  space.  We  have  five  senses  –  sight,  smell,  touch,  taste  and  hearing  –  a  Pentagram  gateway  to  what  is  perceived.  The  other  numbers  magnified  or  added  qualities.  The  first  five  took  shape:    But  before  this  from  the  fashioning  of  nature  and  the  design  graphic  of  our  mind  a  picture  language  developed.  The  base  motifs  are  few:    As  we  think  to  create  form  we  punctuate  space,  we  cannot  escape  the  trace  –  arching,  bridging,  folding,  packing.  There  is  rhythm  as  we  fork  or  branch,  each  node  another  buried  beat.  As  we  fold,  each  ridge  is  a  structure.  As  we  pack  things  together  in  loose  or  tight  fit,  contacts  vibrate.  As  the  patterns  grow  nesting  in  the  elements  of  architecture,  the  composition  awakens  harmony  or  sharp  dissonance  that  recall  safety  or  danger,  stability  or  imminent  collapse.  Unbearable  tensions  or  repeating  compliances  –  deep  structure  is  always  felt.  A  large  part  of  our  survival  is  built  out  of  such  rhythms.    Be  it  in  the  breeze  or  the  rise  and  fall  of  an  ancient  chant,  we  hear  it.  Be  it  in  the  organic  of  a  city  or  the  spell  of  Stonehenge,  we  read  it.  Be  it  in  the  surge  of  the  ocean  or  the  ripple  of  the  pond,  we  sense  its  profile.  Be  it  in  the  texture  and  colours  of  a  painting,  we  touch  its  vibration.    Be  it  in  a  piece  of  architecture?