THE CHRONICLESAN ARCHITECTURAL VISION

ELI KELLER

“Standing in a turning point, as it happens in the quality of human

experience, is a desire to know ourselves not only as followers of our

ancestors but also as descendents of an era.”

- Eran Kimchi -

Imagine a world with no boundaries. A world where everything is reachable

with a push of a button. A world where all things are everywhere and nowhere.

An endless world, ever expanding, stretched into infinity. A huge world, a pris-

oner in a computer screen and cable.

Imagine a world with no roads. A fast and incoherent world. A world where you

can be everywhere at the same time. A world where roads have been forgotten.

A world where everything reaches us, with no effort or hardship. A world with

no rules or limitations. With no gravity or morals.

Imagine a world with no walls. A world where everything is given with a simple

click and in the speed of light. A world, trapped in a room. A world, where con-

tinents, countries, civilizations and memories are mashed into cables. A world,

glittering between one screen and another, in a speeding flash. A huge world,

shrinking every moment, into a flat screen and nothing more.

Imagine a world with no encounter. A lonely and desperate world. A world

where every man has his boundaries, and with them he carelessly builds a for-

tress around his home, body and mind. An autonomic world, one of many, float-

ing in mid air, without the knowledge of a million other worlds surrounding it. A

wreck of a world, that in its destruction, has taken man along.

Imagine a world with no language, where indeed there is only one, and one

number that goes along. A world with no relation, no opening or ground. A float-

ing world, transparent and wired. A world, glaring with a fake glow, a glitter-

ing illusion of space. A liquid world, without mass, without matter, without the

world itself.

Imagine a world, and look outside, and see. A world. Gone.

Prologue

THE WORLD IS CHANGING. As a

matter of fact, it always has, but

the changes taking place today are

so rapid and intense that it seems

we hardly have the time to even ex-

amine them. Speed, both physical

and virtual has been taken a more

integral part of our daily lives. We

no longer experience, expect or lin-

ger. Instead, we pass through with-

out notice. In a stream of data and

constant acceleration, what has be-

come of the human experience? Is

it minimized to the flat screen that

rests soundly in each of our pock-

ets? What will happen to physical

space as this speed grows every

day, and the days it seems, are get-

ting shorter and shorter.

History has apparently taught us

well, but this present era, where

writing, words and legacy have be-

come nothing more than changing

pixels on a computer screen, avail-

able to anyone, anywhere and at

anytime, it seems that the lessons

of history are rapidly being forgot-

ten.

It was not long ago that humanity

experienced one of its greatest di-

sasters. A catastrophe embedded

with technological progress. A di-

saster enabled by the very creations

of man itself. It seems that our own

creations are bringing forth the

very thing they are intended to undo

- our end. The words of Julius Op-

penheimmer, after witnessing the

first nuclear explosion make this

paradox even more clear - “Now, I

am become Death, the destroyer of

worlds.”

Is this true? Is our progress also our

demise? This question is in a way

irrelevant, for as long as we invent

more, we create more that can go

wrong. This is the world’s way. The

issue standing here is the struggle

with this reality.

Technology has been present since

man has been able to grab a rock

and utilize it, Through time, it has

brought many advancements but

many perils that we seem to ne-

glect or forget. Not only that, but

it has been gradually changing the

way we perceive and create space.

Weapons and military technologies

have been responsible for the way

ancient cities have developed. Then,

it were factories, trade routes and

access roads that have dictated the

planning of our industrial cities and

spaces, bringing a functional and

mechanical aspect to the urban ex-

perience. And today, high ways, air-

ports, power plants, pollution and

many others take their dominance.

In a way, our progress made the an-

cient cities irrelevant. It were the

tanks, the mortar shells and super-

sonic bombers that have made the

city walls obsolete, and with that

changed forever the experience of

entering one. And what is next? The

highways of tomorrow are virtual

in nature, faster than the human

eye and mind can perceive or think

about. The private user is slowly

becoming a city, a state and a na-

tion of his own. Connected to every-

where, and anywhere. And what of

the city? What of physical space?

Is its presence slowly disappearing

from our lives? Do we slide today

through physical space the same

way we slide through the web? In a

cold, white gaze, being swept from

one website to another, from one

street to its parallel, without notice?

How will the cities of the future de-

velop? What will be the new urban

scheme? Will it be planned accord-

ing to satellite positioning and cel-

lular reception? Will the new ter-

minals become massive servers?

What of the squares and streets?

Where do they fit in a world that be-

comes visually global but inherently

individual in a radical form?

This work, its text, its narrative and

its physical creations are aimed not

to answer this question but rather to

expose it, and let it rise. This ques-

tion of technological progress has

been relevant since the discovery

of fire, but today, as human culture

seems to enter a phase of extreme

decadence it seems more relevant

than ever; to culture in general and

to architecture specifically.

This catalogue, and the work shown

in it are a part of year long project,

aiming to deal with this question.

It offers a look into the future, but

also into the past. A study, of what

was, what is and what might be. Not

in order to predict the future, or to

be prepared for it. Rather, to bring

forth a thought about culture, archi-

tecture, time and space. It is our ob-

ligation, as citizens of the present,

not to indulge on the past, or to fear

the future, but to create this differ-

ent look. To look back and learn, so

we can look forward with hope. Not

in order to belooking at a techno-

logical future, but of a human one,

that utilizes technology to its needs,

and is not surrendered and mutated

by it.

It is our duty as architects to deal

with this question, for modern cul-

ture challenges the very matter of

our discipline. A matter, which is

the very essence of our existence.

Physical space. It is not a matter of

it disappearing. It is not a question

of us not going outside anymore. It

is a thought, about what is gained

and what is lost, what is brought

forth, and what disappears in the

background, what is created and

what is ruined. With that notion, and

with that thought in mind, we might

be able to create a different form

of architecture, in a world where

“what counts is what is seen and

not what actually is”, as Architect

Peter Eisenman describes it.

The text aims to create a wide span

of critical and theoretical work that

has dealt with these questions

since the late 19th century and up to

contemporary times. The narrative

then, offers a fictional tale of an in-

dividual in an undetermined future.

A future of perfect ruins, urban de-

cay and decadent individuality. Fi-

nally, the models and paintings try

to visualize this narrative and the

imagined future described in it in

an expressive, sometimes abstract

manner, in order to create a broad

visual and physical field, through

which architects, designers, stu-

dents and whoever else is willing,

can imagine, ponder and question

the discipline of space creation in

this time of mass media, social net-

works and virtual reality.

Episode I - Past tense

“Progress and catastrophe are two

sides of the same coin”

- Hannah Arendt-

If we would like to trace the begin-

ning of the effects that technologi-

cal progress has had on mankind

we would have to look, in a matter

of speaking, all the way back to the

first man who had ever picked up

a rock in order to break a shell. In

a way, this was the first time that

man had used something for a pur-

pose of his own, and not for what

this specific item was created for, if

indeed, in this case it had any pur-

pose at all. Still, as much as it might

seem trivial and in some way banal,

the minute man cracked open a nut,

he had done much more. He had in-

vented a weapon. The first weapon.

He had used his “god given” abili-

ties, his opposable thumbs and

arm muscles, picked up a rock and

smashed an object with it. In one

case it might have been a nut, in an-

other, the head of an adversary.

In his book, “A Brief History of

Mankind”, Dr. Yuval Noah Harary,

brings to light and in simple words

the technological progress of the

prehistoric man. Through the first

rock and onto the discovery of fire,

one of Harary basic claims is in a

way controversial. Harary claims,

quite simply, something that we all

might already know but never took

to the time to think about, and that

is the meaning of the discovery of

fire. According to him, the moment

in which Man harnessed fire to his

own will was not just another mo-

ment in history. In fact, it was an ar-

rogant leap through the evolution-

ary process, in which it was not a

“pack of wolves” that had learned

through evolution how to tame fire

but rather a “flock of sheep” that an

evolutionary accident has dropped

fire into its hands. With that, he

claims “They have taken a large and

rude step towards the atom bomb”.

Harary goes on and elaborates

on the inventions that have made

mankind differ itself from evolu-

tion and from the food chain spe-

cifically. In a way, and according to

him, this whole process is traced to

one defining point and that is the in-

vention of language. Language has

given men greater possibilities than

those that nature has. It has given

him the power to communicate in a

greater way than any other animal.

The possibility to elaborate on dif-

ferent topics, to address specific

problems and to invent myths, gods

and legends that connect between

different humans otherwise discon-

nected. Language has created the

possibility of society, and with that

the possibility of great strength.

One human, as Harary describes is

weaker than the average chimpan-

zee but a group of men will devise a

way to defeat the very same chim-

panzee through language and coor-

dination, and in that lies the entire

difference.

Harary’s analysis does not stop

there. As his title implies, he goes

on and strolls through all of man-

kind’s history, through the agri-

cultural revolution, the scientific

one and so forth. One of the key

points however that has drastically

changed the world as it was known

before and into the world we know

today is the historical period known

as the Industrial Revolution. Let

us then take a large leap through

history into the middle of the 18th

century, when the words standard-

ization and manufacturing were in-

troduced into our lives and forever

changed them.

“As machines get to be more and

more like men, men will come to be

more like machines.”. With these

frightening words, 20th century

American writer and naturalist, Jo-

seph Wood Krutch, tried to describe

the effects of the modern world

on our lives. In a matter of speak-

ing, this process which he refers to

started two century before his birth.

The Industrial revolution, beginning

in the 1760’s has changed in a spec-

tacular manner the way western

life is characterized. In a matter of

speaking it was the ultimate appli-

cation of the printing revolution of

the mid 15th century, carried out by

Johannes Gutenberg. If his revolu-

tion had made the written or print-

ed word public domain, then the

Industrial Revolution has brought

almost everything else into the ter-

ritory of the common. The transi-

tion from manmade labor to ma-

chine made, which today seems so

trivial to us is not something to look

at in a glimpse of an eye. The very

core of the comforts and standards

of our lives is rooted in that period.

From the fact that man has shifted

roles in the way production process

works, to the economic transitions

that have followed, the Industrial

Revolution has brought new notions

to the world. It has changed almost

every aspect of production. In fact

it has changed the very meaning of

the word production, giving it the

notion and meaning we know today,

relating it to standards and quan-

tity, and it has taken it away from

the realm of creation and unique-

ness. Through textile and chemical

manufacturing, and onto metallur-

gy and glass making, the revolution

not only changed the way things

are produced but it made unordi-

nary things obtainable and afford-

able. It has created mass produc-

tion and invented reproduction. It

has brought a great decrease in the

price of things unachievable a mo-

ment before. In a way, and in retro-

spective, it was the first step in the

creation of western capitalism.

But what of space? How can space

be produced mechanically or repro-

duced indefinitely? This question

received its answer in the beginning

of the 20th century but what has this

revolution of production and repro-

duction changed in the architectur-

al and urban disciplines at the time

it happened? For starters, the very

immediate and somewhat graphic

change has to do with architectural

appearance. The use of metal and

glass had become more affordable

and more common and through

that the possibilities of architec-

tural design grow larger. The more

inherent and less obvious change

has been in the appearance and

planning of cities. Throughout his-

tory, technological progress has af-

fected the way cities were planned

and conceived, and usually it had to

do with the development of weap-

ons. Fortifications and walls were

planned according to the weaponry

means of a given period, and cit-

ies were encapsulated inside these

walls and spaces. From the early

middle aged fortifications were de-

signed to oppose soldiers and ar-

rows and through the first centuries

of the second millennia they were

planned to withhold gunpowder and

canon fire. City planning, if we could

even call it that, was very much in-

fluenced by the weapons of that

time. The invention of the perspec-

tive during the Renaissance has

changed the way architecture and

urban space is looked at and gave

the planner a different point of view.

The industrial revolution however

brought a bit of a difference. Large

factory areas, that were not habit-

able had to be incorporated into

cities. Train tracks and commerce

routes had become more and more

common, and air pollution rising

from factory chimneys has changed

the scent of the air and the color of

the sky. Not only that, but the pos-

sibilities of creating similar and af-

fordable housing started to raise its

head, peaking in the early 20th cen-

tury, with the modernistic move-

ment.

This shift in the way space is pro-

duced does not start and finish with

the straight forward technological

options that industry has brought.

As a matter of fact they are more

inherent and less obvious in the way

space is perceived and conceived. If

we look at history from the moment

of the Industrial Revolution and on,

and relate almost every invention to

a long trail that began in 1760, we

can start and think on the nature of

other inventions that have changed

completely the way we think and

perceive our spatial experiences

and the way space is represented

to us.

The issue of representation in gen-

eral and specifically architectural

and spatial representation is of

the utmost importance, for it has

changed drastically in our time, with

the appearance of social networks,

mass media and the domination of

the motored vehicles of our cities.

However, in order to understand the

transformation of spatial represen-

tation in our times, we first have to

understand an earlier shift, traced

back to the 19th century, rooted of

course in the industrial revolution

as well. A change that appeared

with the different photographic and

cinematic technologies.

In many of his writings, Walter Ben-

jamin addressed the effects that

technology has on society and vise

versa. Among many other technolo-

gies he discusses, two of the main

ones are photography and cinema-

tography. These two developments

in realistic documentation that have

developed mid 19th century and on,

seem to have very little to do with

architecture in a literal manner.

However, if we look at his analysis

and examine these two disciplines

we may find an inherent connection.

Both cinematography and photog-

raphy have brought to the world

disciplines that have challenged

what was before quiet obvious,

meaning a form of artistic or nar-

rative representation. It has also

brought up the issue of artistic re-

production. According to Benjamin,

the appearance of the camera, and

of many other photographic tech-

nologies, such as the stereoscope,

served as technological expression

to a cultural shift of that time with

the appearance of the subject. That

is, technological advancement was

in a way a result of cultural and so-

cial progress and not the reason for

it as we might think. The use of the

camera in its various modes was

related very much to the study of

optics in that time and at first was

indeed a research - scientific dis-

cipline. Nevertheless, it still, in a

historiographic observation, chal-

lenged the paradigm of realistic

documentation, representation and

reproduction. Photography itself

has brought a possibility to detach

singular events from the sequence

of life and examine them in a man-

ner that was not possible before,

as Israeli philosopher Eran Kimchi

describes it. Indeed, as Benjamin

elaborates, photography started as

a scientific discipline and turned

slowly into a tool of society to pre-

serve social states and boundar-

ies. Portraits have become a status

symbol during the end of the 19th

century and with that photography

had left the realm of research and

experimentation. It has become a

mass technology, stuck in its own

boundaries, resistent to change and

development, and trying to preserve

existing social orders. Not only that

but with the challenge that photog-

raphy has brought to realistic rep-

resentation and reproduction it has

set the first stepping stone in the

creation and perception of alternate

realities.

Cinematography has brought an

additional change to this shift

which was the possibility of contin-

uous footage and changing narra-

tive. Cinema, in a way, as Benjamin

claims, opened up a new dimension

to human experience. The options

that were brought by cinematog-

raphers were almost infinite. The

film brought an option to perceive

time in a different visual manner,

to expand and contract it according

to the narrative of a given creator,

and with that it opened up new pos-

sibilities in the perception of reality

itself. Cinema has become much

more than just a stream of images

running chronologically one after

another. Rather, it became a me-

dium in which reality as we see it

daily is challenged. The physical

world itself is perceived not only as

such but as a part of bigger span

of representations, some realistic

and some imaginary. The focus al-

lows the creator to adjust the view-

er gaze upon things he would not

notice, slow motion allows him to

stretch movement itself indefinetly.

Kimchi, through studying Benjamin

relates cinema and photography as

a social changing discipline, used

by different forces to construct and

represent reality as it wills. In pho-

tography it was the contents that

used this potential of construction

realities, and in film it was the ac-

tual media, which created new ways

of looking at the physical, imaginary

and finally drawn world.

These two disciplines that for us

as citizens of the 21st centuries

have become almost ancient have

changed the way our world is per-

ceived to us. They were both direct

descendants of the Industrial Revo-

lution in that they brought aspect of

reproduction and speed into daily

life. More importantly however, they

were the first step towards the cre-

ation of different social connections.

They have challenged the very way

we see and interact with our sur-

roundings. They were and still are

the cover screen for the social net-

work and mass media, that would

challenge the very foundations of

our way at looking and interacting

in the world only a century later.

Episode II

Present Progressive

“Between contemporary virtual

space and modernist space lies an

aporia formed by the auto genera-

tive nature of the computer screen,

and its real blindness to viewer’s

presence. In this sense, the screen

is not a picture, and certainly not

a surrogate window, but rather an

ambiguous and unfixed location for

a subject.”

- Anthony Vidler -

The effects of the Industrial revo-

lution described before do not

start and end in the period of time

that defines this event historically.

Like many revolutions and historic

events, its effects are felt and car-

ried through time into the next cen-

turies. When it comes to architec-

ture and urban planning, it seems

that the most significant effects of

this revolution were actually dem-

onstrated during the late 19th cen-

tury and first decades of the 20th

century. A period that in a way has

shaped more than any other the

physical surroundings that we are

living in today.

The late 19th century, which had

brought to the world visions of per-

fect cities, geometrical, mathemat-

ical and analytical in nature. The

most famous of these ones would

be the “Garden City” developed by

Ebenezer Howard in the last decade

of the 19th century. This vision, pre-

sented in perfect geometric form

was influenced by different uto-

pian visions and writings but in a

way was inspired by the industrial

revolution itself. It had tried to har-

ness its power and benefits, utiliz-

ing means like railroads, factories

and so on, and solve the problems

of industrial cities via correct plan-

ning. The essence of the plan lies

in the creation of a chain of cities,

each one encapsulated and self

sufficient, and in the middle of the

chain of individual links, a center

city would be planned, providing the

outer cities with additional means

and connecting to them with rail

and road. The plan had described

exactly the maximum amount of

residents in each one of these outer

cities, and in the central one, and

regarded these numbers as those

that would keep each city appropri-

ate for living.

In a matter of speaking, Howard’s

garden cities were the first line in

the planning and creation of the

satellite cities and neighborhoods

of today, and the field of suburbs

covering landscapes and territo-

ries. The vision behind them, how-

ever ambitious and full of good will,

was in the end pretentious, and ar-

rogant. It has completely ignored

the notion of natural growth of a

city, its historic background that is

built over time and cannot be sub-

stituted by artificial means, its cycle

of life and in the end its inhabitants.

The garden cities offered a func-

tional and methodical solution to a

problem which seemed at the time

to be of the same kind - a quantitive

one. It addressed it with the tools of

industry. With a mechanical, ana-

lytical and cold approach it gave an

existential problem, a solution that

was numerical. As a matter of fact,

the problem was completely differ-

ent, and it was about to get worse.

The two world wars that opened

the 20th century with a fire and de-

struction that the world had never

seen before left an unforgettable

imprint on human surroundings.

The images of bombed cities were

not only burned into the minds of

the survivors of the wars but also

presented western Europe with a

significant problem. The problem of

housing. The modernist movement,

with its thriving ideas of the time,

regarding the abolishment of orna-

ments, the functionally of architec-

ture as a generative process and

the thought of a house as a machine

for dwelling, had the perfect ground

to implement its radical at the time

ideas, on a scorched new ground.

a city of identical high risers, and in-

finite parks. It introduced highways

and roads into the city as arteries

of movement and speed, feeding

the city. A day dream, yearning for

realization. Now, that we are look-

ing back into the vision purposed by

him in the beginning of the previous

century, can we say that it is so dif-

ferent from the great cities of our

times? Ruled by high ways and sky-

scrapers, our cities have changed

as johan Hazuinga describes them

in his American Journal: “The great

city is no longer a place to live in.

It has become a mechanism, a ma-

chine of transportation and com-

munication. It has become mobile.”

It seems that Le Corbusier utopian

vision has almost fulfilled itself, and

with that brought the beginning of

the decline in the great urban cul-

ture.

Space itself, and the need of its us-

ers has become standardized. Mod-

ernistic architecture has brought

the sense that the answer to the

problem which architecture is deal-

ing with is within a formula. It has

nothing to do with the place it deals

with, with its history, its “genius”.

The ideas of Le Corbusier and his

followers, though today seem ob-

solete or ordinary were more than

radical at the time they were con-

ceived. The style that characterized

the modernistic architecture was

new and avant-garde, the concepts

behind the plans were unheard of,

the methods of construction were

the peak of the technology of that

time. Stone facades and decorated

windows gave up their place in favor

of reinforced concrete, steel frames

and glass screens. Behind this visu-

al and technological change there

was a great idea of a brave new

world. A world in which everyone is

equal but not as an ideology but in

a way as a consumer and as a pro-

ducer and this equality is reflected

in their housing, in their environ-

ment, in their cities, in their world.

The vision presented by Le Corbusi-

er, as seen in his built projects such

as the Unite Habitacion, and in his

theoretical work, prominently, the

“Ville Radieuse” (The Radiant City)

show an inherent change in thought

of architecture, urban planning and

space in general. His urban propos-

al changed the image of the city and

the way it is used completely. It was

That is exactly why Le Corbusier’s

“Unite” was built in Marseilles, Mu-

nich, Moscow and several other lo-

cations in the same manner. It was

a machine he designed which had

one purpose - housing. And this

machine, according to modernistic

approach could work anywhere. It

was this basic standardization of

our living spaces that has changed

architecture since. It took some-

thing so individual and so unique

to us and has put in a factory, from

which we would all come out with

the same product. Was it architec-

ture? That is debatable, but it was

necessary to say the least. As we

look upon these changes, it is im-

portant that we understand them

to their full capacity, since most

of us were born into this reality of

standard and “optimal” space. But

as we know, the word standard is

usually associated with the low-

est quality bearable. The cheapest,

most efficent and in a way ordinary

creation. We have been living our

lives in cities and apartments that

differ from one another only by size

and name, and not by meaning or

essence. A housing block in Brook-

lyn, London or Paris is virtually the

same, although the places in which

that block is situated are complete-

ly different.

As we have seen with the changes

that photography and cinema had

brought, the shift to standardized

environment is not only physical.

The social aspects are inherent

but the cognitive and behavioral

ones are even more embedded in

our modern life. These changes in

perception are not only relating to

architecture itself but very much to

the way it is perceived and experi-

enced.

As we know, industry and technol-

ogy has brought more than just

improved building techniques. It

has introduced a new concept of

speed in to our life, as philosopher

and urbanist Paul Virillio claims.

Modern technology through its ve-

hicles and highways, its faxes and

emails and its weapons and wars

changed drastically our perception

and understanding of urban space.

In one of his early writings, Virillio

describes his experiences as a child

during the German bombings of

France:”That which educated me,

it wasn’t the horror of those buried

alive in the basements, asphyxiated

by ruptured gas pipes, drowned by

the burst water mains, but rather

that sudden transparency, this

change in the view of urban space,

this motility of the inanimate, of the

built.” This traumatic experience for

Virillio was not only manifested in

the direct traumatic aspect of it but

in the way that it has changed his

view of his physical surroundings.

The fact that the stable has become

mobile, the still - kinetic. What is

there to say of the atom bomb then,

that has challenged and accelerat-

ed not only traditional warfare, but

the basic elements from which our

world is constructed. A bomb con-

sisting of infinite speed, if you will.

This notion and outlook is very

characteristic to Virillio’s work. He

is a self appointed student of the

science of speed, dromolgy, as he

calls it. Speed that is created, in-

tensified and today exacerbated by

technological progress. As an ur-

banist he mainly deals with the way

this speed affects the human urban

and spatial experience. In his book,

“The Critical Space” he elaborates

on this subject while describing the

changes in the urban perception

through high ways and airports.

One of his claims is that the expe-

rience of entering a city has com-

pletely change and as a matter of

fact vanished from our modern life.

Today, in fact, it is minimized to a

scan of our passport and our eyes

and handprints. One moment you

are on the outside. A second later,

you are in. And nothing has really

changed or happened.

If the early 20th century architec-

ture has introduced standardized

living environments and ungrasp-

able urban surroundings, as Mark

Wigley describes the enormous

public spaces of modern cities, then

the second half of it has made them

transparent according to Virillio. In

Wigley’s “forest of generic tower

that only pretend to be different

from each other” it does not mat-

ter to Virillio how small or big they

are. industry and technology has

put us all in a car, a motorcycle or

an airplane and in them, we move

from one situation to another with-

out comprehension of the changes

and shifts that occur around us. The

speed in which we move and absorb

data has grown so intensely that

our surroundings have become in a

way irrelevant. It is as if they were

not there. Today, at the brink of the

21st century, with the appearance

of mass media technologies that

bring events from across the world

in milliseconds to the screens in

our homes and in our pockets, and

with social networks that make our

physical and social connections

intangible and untraceable, our

speed is becoming immeasurable

and perhaps, intolerable.

Episode III

Future Past

“We are living under the admin-

istration of fear: fear has become

an environment, an everyday

landscape. There was a time when

wars, femines and epidemics were

localized and limited by a certain

timeframe. Today, it is the world

itself that is limited, saturated,

and manipulated, the world itself

that seizes us and confines us with

a stressful claustrophobia, Stock

market crises, undifferentiated

terrorism, lighting pandemics,

“professional” suicides... Fear has

become the world we live in.

- Paul Virillio -

The great turn in the way we in-

teract today could be addressed

to the introduction of the internet

to our lives in the early 90’s of the

20th century, and in many cases it

would be correct. However, and as

we have seen before, great changes

do not appear out of thin air. Every

change that we experience today

is rooted in many that happened

before it. Photography and cin-

ema, as claimed before were the

foundations set more than a cen-

tury ago for this revolution in space

perception but one the main shifts

in understanding lies again in the

change in reproduction, and in this

case textual reproduction.

Architect Peter Eisenman has dealt

with the shifts that architecture

has undertaken in his writings.

His work, written, theoretical, and

practical is very textual in essence.

He addressed architecture as a text,

and today as a code, and with this

notion in mind he analyzes past

and present processes. In one of

his earlier articles, Eisenman ad-

dresses the changes of the elec-

tronic age: “In photographic repro-

duction, the subject still maintains

a controlled interaction with the

subject... with the fax, the object is

no longer called upon to interpret.”

In these words Eisenman points out

what seems to be a minor change

in the way we receive and interpret

information, but one that signifies a

tendency which is reaching its peak

today. Interpretation itself, a tool

so inherent and basic to us, is dis-

appearing, according to him. This

disappearance is not only relevant

to the sheet of fax paper appearing

magically in an office, but also to

the way we interpret, or in fact do

not interpret the world around us.

For Eisenman, the electronic age,

and the digital one following it has

brought a sense of extreme visual-

ization. That is, that the “seen” is

favored over the “meaningful”. This,

of course has not started with the

fax. In fact, we can connect it to the

surface architecture characteristic

to the early 20th century. Archi-

tecture of envelopes, glass screen

and super thin structures, trying to

abolish the boundaries between in-

side and out.

Eisenman’s reaction was quite

unique at the time. As he claimed

that architecture had forgotten to

react to the electronic revolution,

his architecture tried to challenge

to traditional visual aspect of build-

ings. It was titled as de-construc-

tive, and sometimes arrogant, but

today, his groundbreaking thoughts

have become, in a physical man-

ner more and more common. The

curved wall or the diagonal window

are no longer rare, and when they

appear, they do not seem to excite

us as they did before.

As we progress with time and tech-

nology and reach our times, we see

the text itself, or hypertext, has

taken an additional shift. Roland

Barthes’ author has become even

more “dead” we might say, since

today any text being transported

into cyberspace is just a ground for

change. Text is no longer interpret-

ed over the internet, in chat rooms

and on blog walls. It is changed,

copied and altered infinitely, until its

source is completely gone. Not only

that, but the terms of representa-

tion in the internet has changed so

drastically that the interface and

structure of it invites the user to

do with the text as he will, as Eran

Kimchi describes it. The user cop-

ies and pastes, then another follows

until a collage of texts is created

unconsciously. Moreover, these

changes have the ability to occur so

fast that the question of originality,

brought up by Benjamin, in regards

to reproduction, appears again

in greater magnitude and mean-

ing. In Kimchi’s mind, it is not only

originality that is questioned, but

whole concept of something new.

In a world where something new

appears at every second, and be-

fore one product reaches the shelf,

its better version is already being

shipped, what is new indeed?

Another change that Kimchi men-

tions is the physical aspect of com-

munication. Not only that the text

itself changed, but the way we pro-

duce it has changed as well. We use

our fingers, and pre-made icons

to express what it on our minds.

Facials expression are substituted

with clicking fingers, and the faster

we type, the more interactions we

can have simultaneously. Again, the

question of space arises. What is

between textual change, expression

and representation and architec-

ture or space? One might claim that

virtual space offers us no physical

limitations and allows us to create

a form of a digital representation of

ourselves, a virtual persona that we

can carry with us in our cell phones

and computers. Though this is true,

at present moment, the virtual

world cannot offer us the physical

experiences of the “real” world but

nevertheless it affects it constantly.

From the way our spaces look and

to the way we move through them.

The physical surroundings are be-

coming apparently more rich but

that, as claimed before, is only in a

visual and superficial aspect. The

interiors of our spaces are some-

times less than ordinary. Kimchi

even claims that the way we ad-

dress them is different thanks to

social networks. If we used to deco-

rate our offices with pictures of our

loved ones, today our office walls

are blank, but are screen are full

of our “friends” and relatives, that

are sitting at the office, virtually

with us. But again, this is an illu-

sion, as American critique William

Deresiewicz claims, “Facebook

has made our social circles visible.

There they are, all my friends, at the

same place, only they are not at the

same place, and they are not all my

friends, they are simulacra of my

friends... They are not my friends

more than of pack of basketball

player cards.” This change in the

way we interact and comprehend

our social relations is inherent to

architecture, since architecture is

in a way a social discipline, at its

core. Created for the public domain,

in a way. Kimchi, however goes a

bit further and sets the ground for

another analogy. By analyzing the

meaning of the word “slide” in its

internet relation, he connects the

physical essence of the word and

the virtual way of travelling through

the internet - being swept from one

point to another without control.

That is to say that our movement

through cyber and internet spaces

is an uncontrolled one. If we take

this analysis and combine it with

the fact that we spend more and

more time in front of our computers

and phones, who is to say that we

do not “slide” our way through the

physical world as well? As Virillio

stated, our movement in the world

has become more accelerated,

and in this aspect our movement

through cyberspace is reaching its

peak. And in this speed, nothing is

comprehensible. In both aspects,

the virtual is slowly but surely tak-

ing over the physical - whether it

is our physical movement that be-

come “virtual” in nature, or the fact

that we manage our lives and expe-

rience more and more of it through

virtual means.

As the internet grabs a larger part

of our day to day life, bringing forth

new notion and possibilities, our

life is becoming obviously more and

more global in nature, and as an

immediate result, less local. When

we are able to sit on a chair in one

place, have a chat with a person on

the other side of our the world, order

something from thousands of kilo-

meters away and watch live news

from the most godforsaken corner

of the planet, where are we actual-

ly? Space itself is minimized to the

size of a flat screen, and as speed

grows larger, distances shrink rela-

tively and disproportionally. As our

virtual life and world grow larger,

our physical world grows infinitely

smaller. The basic notions of scale

and place change. What is consi-

derd large in a world of that sort?

Is it measured in bytes or centime-

ters? What it far? Is it dependent on

the speed of our broadband? What

is here? Is it where we physically

are or is it where we virtually are?

Can we be at multiple places at the

same time in that case? And how

do we define a place in a reality in

which everything is everywhere and

nowhere at the same time?

Epilogue

What can we expect next? How will

our cities be planned? Are wireless

network the highways of the future?

And if so, then how will we move

within them, and towards what? Is

a future where every man is his own

state and country so far from us.

Although our world and technology

is becoming more and more global

with every passing day, it seems

that society is actually crumbling

and every man becomes an island.

Connected to everything and ev-

erywhere, but disconnected in any

meaningful or physical sense. And

what of architecture and space? Are

they to be abandoned as well? Will

they be left behind as ruins of an

forgotten physical world? Whether

we will it or not, every progress that

we make will forever incorporate

within it a new form of destruction.

But what of architectures reac-

tion? What of the challenge it will

undertake as a discipline, a culture

and a movement? What sort of ar-

chitecture do we need to create for

the world of tomorrow? What sort

of ruins do we foresee the future

bringing? What sort of responsibil-

ity do we take upon ourselves? It is

clear the architecture and archi-

tects must challenge themselves

and their discipline, but the ques-

tion still remains. How? What sort

of architecture does this new, rapid,

silent and still world needs?

In a world so deterministically or-

ganized, there is an essential need

for disorder. For if everything is in

place than there nothing left to be

done. Nothing to be fixed. No ques-

tion to be asked. In this world ar-

chitecture must raise its head and

become something different, some-

thing far from what it used it. The

time for harmony and answers is

over. The age of chaotic questions

has arrived. Architecture must

become a mutation of its past re-

mains. A monster that rampages

between street lines and building

codes, leaving behind all past no-

tion of proportion, scale and use.

In a world so horizontally vertical,

architecture must tear up the space

between the towers, walls and in-

frastructure, and in their flesh find

the ruins of their future. The im-

ages of their past, seen now, in new

light, through shatters, shells and

ruins of their own. It must become

a force, a violent force seeking the

destruction of that which deserves

to be destroyed. And in these ruins

of the future, it must take a new

role, as scaffoldings for a world,

waiting to be built.

The Work

The work presented here is a cul-

mination of the 5th year bachelor

of architecture graduation project.

It is a vision of dystopia presented

in graphic collages and conceptual

models of a future world gone. Both

consistent and inconsistent with

the narrative that accompanies it,

the work is partly not contextual

and therefore it is more represen-

tational in nature, and somewhat

abstract. However, the greater part

of the creation was dedicated to the

city of Tel Aviv.

Tel Aviv is the peak of Israeli urban

culture and city planning, but it also

symbolizes its decadence. It is vi-

brant, it is planned to perfection, its

alive 24/7 and its slowly but surely,

getting lost. Its streets are domi-

nated by vehicles and parking lots.

Its inhabitants are blinded by the

fake glittering light reflecting of the

shiny towers popping anywhere and

everywhere. Its people are gazing at

the black screen in their homes, of-

fices and pockets and are not aware

of their own surroundings.

The work deals with iconic places

in Tel Aviv, symbolizing all architec-

tural, financial and cultural achieve-

ments of the past, and sins of the

present. From huge city square de-

fined by roads, through high riser

shopping malls and transportation

terminals, and through a boulevard

which stretches from west to north,

holding some of the city highest and

lowest historical landmarks.

The main site for this dystopia is

Rothschild Boulevard. Through its

theater at one edge, the trees and

luxurious apartment at its core and

the office and residential towers

climbing over or destroying historic

buildings, the Boulevard is repre-

sentational to everything that is

good and bad in our modern urban

culture. Through the re-imagina-

tion of it, in its ruins and re-ruins,

there is a chance of a new outlook

on architecture and our role as ar-

chitects, in a world growing slowly

but surely inhabitable.

Appendix

The wink - A short story

A bright red flickering light shined

the dark room. It came with a pierc-

ing sound attached to it, repeating

every other second in an endless

tone, matching the light’s rhythm.

His eyes slowly opened, and with

two quick winks the light had

stopped its monotonous beat and

the sound disappeared. The room

quickly filled with a bright light, giv-

ing it a shade of a bright July morn-

ing. Slowly rising from his bed, the

man looked around with an empty

gaze at the walls glaring with a fake

hue, and sighed, preparing for an-

other lonesome morning. At the

exact moment his feet left the sur-

face of the bed, a small part of the

glittering wall changed from bright

yellow to a white screen, and the

words “good morning.” appeared

on it. Another good morning, he

thought to himself. Just like the last

one... and the one before it, and so

on. In his mind he suddenly thought

of a lesson he had at school when

he was a child. Twenty, thirty, forty

years ago. Who can say anymore?

“What has been will be again, what

has been done will be done again;

there is nothing new under the

sun.” Sun, He muffled to himself,

trying to remember when was the

last time a ray of light penetrated

his tiny room. He slowly rose from

his bed and turned around the wall

facing the one with the cheerful

morning greeting. A small glass

slid out with a toothbrush and wa-

ter. He grabbed the brush and

shoved it weakly into his mouth,

wondering the purpose of his ac-

tions. Tradition, he thought. After

finishing this routine, he turned

back to the greeting, and winked

his eyes twice again. The greeting

quickly disappeared and instead of

it appeared a menu filled with dif-

ferent faces, titles and something

that appeared to be a grocery list.

His eyes quickly strolled through

the menu, taking a different action

with every wink. In several second

he managed to greet his mother on

her birthday (he didn’t know which

one), send his father a virtual get-

well card, ask his girlfriend to talk

to him later and send the grocery

list to the supermarket. He looked

at sky, blue and glittering above

him, and for a moment he noticed

a few pixels flickering on his ceil-

ing. A quick wink made that flicker

disappear but this time, he did not

mean for it to happen. He turned

his head to the right, and sucked

on the straw the moved closely to

his mouth. He recognized the taste.

The same chemical taste that was

supposed to resemble something

that he had already forgotten. All he

knew was that he tasted something

better than this before, he didn’t re-

member what, or how it was called,

but the sensation on his tongue re-

minded him of something vague.

The cables had tangled around his

legs and he tried quickly to untie

them, without disconnecting any.

For a moment there, he looked like

a fly caught in a spider’s web. Each

movement of his legs made him

sigh harder. He could not remem-

ber when was the last time he had

moved so much in such a short pe-

riod of time. He winked his eyes a

few more times and immediately

his bed advanced to the middle

of the room, and a backrest rose

and straightened his weak back.

He looked at the menu again, and

winked. The Menu quickly disap-

peared and instead of it appeared

a wardrobe. He decided that since

the calendar on the top right side

stated it was Friday, he would dress

casually, as if implying that the

weekend is coming. Jeans and t-

shirt it is. A small figuring resem-

bling him appeared on the top left,

dressed in the clothes he picked

with the movement of his eyes. The

image changed again, and a small

sunny street appeared in front of

him, brightly shining the room. The

street started moving and changing

in an endless perspective, giving

him the illusion of movement. After

a few moments of staring pointless-

ly at this moving image he moved his

head sharply to the right. The street

stretched quickly, disturbing the

perspective for a few short seconds,

and instantly he found himself in-

side the lobby of the office building

where he was working. He greeted

the image of the guard at the lob-

by, wondering why the hell a guard

would be needed in a place of this

sort. This thought quickly led him to

think about his own role in that spe-

cific building, but it disappeared at

the same speed. He entered the el-

evator, and back in his room quickly

moved his head up, while whisper-

ing the words one hundred and

twenty seven. A second later the

same number appeared in great red

digits all over the screen. The doors

of the elevator opened, and the im-

age appearing on his wall turned

into a large bright space, filled with

movement and people. As the cam-

era moved through the room he

could see some of his co-workers

staring at him. The jeans and t-shirt

did not make the right effect, he

thought. but then again, who really

cares. He smiled almost at every-

one as he moved through the image

of the room and onto the image of

his desk. He knew he could wink

at them all away, but still felt some

sort of obligation to maintain a so-

cial appearance.

He slowly sat at his desk. This ac-

tion seemed especially ridicules to

him, since he was sitting back at

his apartment this whole time, but

once more, this thought, just like

many others, concerning the nature

of his mundane actions, left as his

mind as quickly as it appeared. The

screen on his desk grew propor-

tionally and filled up the wall of his

room. On the right, appeared a list

of daily missions, on the top left, a

list of friends, co-workers and ac-

quaintances, and in the middle, the

interface of the software he was

working with. Back in his room, a

small keyboard stretched out of the

wall towards his hands. He crossed

his fingers tethers, crackling his

finger joints, and stretching the

strongest muscles of his body. He

fluttered his fingers in the air for a

few seconds, as if playing on an in-

visible piano, and quickly sank into

his work. As he was working, his

mind slowly started to slide away

from his work, as it usually does,

but he was already familiar with

this situation. He was able to make

descent progress on his work while

adjusting the scenery around him,

and talking to his friends. The three

remaining walls of his room started

shifting quickly and in them started

to appear various scenes. The left

window had a deep perspective of

the Eiffel tower from the Palais de

Tokyo, over the Seine. Every time

he looked to left he could see the

rays of light flickering through the

ancient metal construction. He

remembered his online studies,

specifically an architectural his-

tory class, where the history of the

tower was explained to him and the

millions of students participating in

the class. The light in the windows

was perfect and a light glimmer

appeared the cool river water. On

his back he could almost sense the

shadow of the Empire state build-

ing. From time to time he looked

over his shoulder, and stare into

the endless famous 5th avenue. His

right wall was the most Important

one, or at least he thought of it as

such. As a right-handed person he

would look to this side the most, but

the sight there was of nothing great

or famous. Rather a silhouette of a

small street he could not exactly re-

member, but somehow this image

stuck with him, and whether he was

in Paris, London or Shanghai from

the left, and New York, Los Angeles

or Mexico City on the rear, this im-

age of this small abandoned street

was always on his right. He could

change it instantly, and sometime

he wished he had, but something in

the back of his back would not let

him do it. As if he was connected to

this place somehow.

The day went on. The sun on his

windows stayed exactly where he

wanted it. The glimmering waters

of the Seine, and the shadow of

the skyscraper did not budge. In

fact, if someone would walk into

this room, in some miraculous way,

he might think he was looking at a

photomontage. A frozen image of

man, tangled in wires, surrounded

screen, and the keyboard moved to-

wards him again. He started typing

his answers without talking to her,

knowing that she would not the dif-

ference. She might have been typ-

ing this whole time, he thought, as

he typed a smiley face on the key-

board in reaction to her complaints

about her boss.

After a quick conversation he got

back to his work, in order to finish

it as quickly as possible and head

back from the office. He wrapped

up his duties for the day, moved his

right quickly to the left, and as he

did that, all the images of the dif-

ferent cities slowly faded into the

wall, and were replaced with a light

blue and red gradient color. A quiet

sound of wind and waves started to

take over the room. His bed, from

which he hasn’t budged from the

time the walls were painted with

bright yellow, started moving back

to the side of the room. The back-

rest slowly shifted to a smaller an-

gle. He closed his eyes, and as he

stretched his fingers he fell asleep.

The alarm sounded again. As he

opened his eyes, the whole room

was glimmering with red, on and

by the world, with his fingers mov-

ing in the speed of light. After some

times, hours or minutes, he could

not really tell, a bag of groceries

appeared as if from nowhere in his

room, and made its way on a rail

into his refrigerator. He knew ex-

actly what was in it, and did not even

bother to check whether the right

order was delivered. Full Proof, the

bag stated, and he, of course, trust-

ed the printed text.

As the day progressed, his eyes

were getting weary, and his fingers

started feeling a bit numb. This feel-

ing was familiar and he knew all he

needed was a few eye drops to keep

going. He took a break, turned his

head around and winked at the back

wall. A tray with eye drops appeared

and he quickly grabbed it. As he

was using the drops, a strong ring

sounded in the room and an image

of a beautiful young woman took

over his screen. He winked again

and started talking. His girlfriend

talked to him about her day at work,

and how her fingers have been feel-

ing more and more numb every day.

At a certain point he got tired of

talking, and winked at her image. A

small speaker icon appeared on the

off. He opened his eyes faster this

time, as if knowing that he rushing

somewhere, when in fact he was

rushing, but nowhere. He knew

his friends were waiting for him

at some sort of place, if you could

call it that, but the numbness of

time that he felt, was surely affect-

ing them as well. He quickly went

through the same monotonous pro-

cess of the morning, with the only

difference being the color of the

wall – this time, a dark navy blue,

sprinkled with stars. He had no idea

when he had gone to sleep, how

many hours he was at work or for

long he has been sleeping, but he

knew that the alarm clock was set

to the time when he was meant to

wake up – whether it was his setting

or someone else’s. A wink there, a

strong movement of the head there,

and in a matter of moments he was

image was dressed and ready to

go. He did not even bother to take a

stroll through the streets appearing

on his wall and quickly turned his

head in order to get to the meeting

point.

His friends were sitting at their fa-

vorite bar. The image looked per-

fect. As he was sitting around the

table, surrounded by the walls of

his room, he could hear all the rest

of the people talking, smoking and

drinking. His room was suddenly

filled with the aroma of beer, per-

fume, and cigarettes. The noise

around him made him feel comfort-

able, and the images in front him,

who were obviously familiar were

engaged in a vibrant conversations

about women and politics. The eve-

ning progressed, and as he was or-

dering more and more drinks that

magically appeared in front of him,

he felt quite ridicules as he poured

each one to the trash can by his feet,

while typing drink on his keyboard.

Laughter and noise were surround-

ing him, and while he was trying to

decide whether he feels like it was

time to leave, switch to his keyboard

or keep talking using his head set,

something strange had begun to

take place.

Out of nowhere, he suddenly saw a

great shadow on the bar table. This

shadow did not look unfamiliar. In

fact, he had seen it earlier that day.

A long, thick and dark black shade

crawled on the wooden surface, and

became apparent. He looked back,

and where he expected to see the

rest of the bar, he saw a bustling

fifth avenue, and at its edge, the

peak of the empire state building,

flickering and disturbed. He turned

his head back to his friends. Their

faces were distorted and pixelazied,

and he could not recognize any of

them or their voices. As their ap-

pearance turned quickly to a digi-

tal mash, the alarm sound started

again, growing louder and louder,

and an array of messages, faces,

and articles started appearing on

and off on his front wall. He looked

at his image at the top corner, and

could see that it was shifting outfits

rapidly. Commercials he had seen

of different merchandise started to

switch frantically, mixed with mil-

lions of different colors and sounds

on all the screens surrounding him.

The sound was unbearable, and the

amount of different pictures shown

on each screen has reached his

limit, but kept on going. He lifted up

his hands and covered his ears in

an instinctive movement. For a sec-

ond he thought about the fact that

he has not touched his ears in ages,

but before he could trouble his mind

with this thought, he automatically

released a hideous scream into the

small space surrounding him, while

strongly closing his eyes. Suddenly,

there was silence. He opened his

eyes slowly, taking his hands care-

fully off his ears. The room was

dark, and a small emergency light,

that has never been lit, was shining

above. He looked at it for a short

instance and then moved his gaze

forward towards the dark screen.

In front of him, staring directly at

his face was an aged man, wrinkled

and pale, looking right back at him.

He moved to the right, and the man

followed. He tried to wink in order

to make the old man disappear, but

the man winked back and nothing

happened. It only took a few seconds

before he realized the truth. The

dark, disabled screen was in fact a

mirror. The wrinkles, white hair and

empty gaze were actually his. He

released another great scream into

the air, and started looking around

frantically. The room was still

dark, and he could manage to find

himself in this tiny 10 square me-

ter space. He moved closely to the

screen, examining his unrecognized

self, how he had aged, how his face

looked. All of this was forgotten to

him. He tried to remember what

was the last image of him that he

had had but could not gather any-

thing visual. His whole life, he had

been staring at images of people,

streets and places, and now at this

moment of collapse he faces him-

self, as a mute. A disabled, limp

and weak reflection of the man he

used to be. A small glitter appeared

on the screen, and at that moment,

he had gathered the great power

of his typing fingers, and the little

power he had left in the rest of his

ageing body, and with a swift motion

grabbed all the cables surrounding

him and ripped them out of the wall.

In an instant the room was filled

with electric flashes, the screens

themselves started to flicker ner-

vously and explode. It seemed as if

a bomb had exploded in each and

every one of them. As he fell help-

lessly to the ground, the room went

dark, with only the emergency light,

shining on the remains of his ruined

world, and wrinkled body.

A few hours later he had woken

up. This time, there was no alarm

sound, nor a morning greeting. It

was the most quite wakeup call he

had ever gotten. He looked around.

The emergency light was still shin-

ing. He slowly picked himself up

from ground, untangling himself

slowly from the bundles of wires he

fell into. He looked around for a mo-

ment, at his small kingdom of ru-

ins, and moved slowly towards one

of the walls. As he reached out his

weak arms, he kept winking instinc-

tively, expecting something to hap-

pen, but somehow knowing it never

will. He moved his hand slowly on

the black screen, not being terror-

ized by the reflection anymore. A

few knocks on each screen, trying

to realize whether he has neigh-

bors, and perhaps, they have expe-

rienced the same meltdown. As he

wondered what to do next, he moved

his hand on the wall and found sev-

eral slits in it. He tried to utilize the

force of his fingers and was able

to detach some of the panels from

the walls. Behind them he found a

maze of wires, rails, and systems

that were in charge of his daily rou-

tine. The glass, and the toothbrush.

The groceries waiting to be picked

up. The glass of beer just used. He

started to pick those systems apart,

grabbing the large rails of metal

and wire, and detaching them from

the walls. In front of him, slowly a

large shaft was discovered. As he

removed the ruins, he understood

that he could quite easily fit into it.

He stared into the shaft, and as he

crawled in, he noticed that his rest-

less winking had stopped.

The shaft appeared to be endless,

winding up and down, left and right.

It took him several hours to reach

a point where he could see some-

thing different from the black that

was surrounding him. After one

of the turns he took, he suddenly

saw a bright white spot, and as

he crawled towards it he started

feeling a warm, chemical scented

breeze in his nose. He reached the

end of the shaft. He could feel it, but

he had no idea what was waiting for

him on the other side.

The strong odor penetrated his

nose. His sniffed it a few times as

he crawled out of the small exit, and

rolled unto a cracked pavement.

The light that was shining through

the ending of the shaft was not the

sunlight he had hoped for. As he

finished his long crawl, he looked

around and froze in place. His eyes

kept moving all around trying to

grasp the new vision that he was

facing. In front him was a field of

huge buildings, with their tops hid-

den behind clouds of grey and thick

smoke. The huge structured had a

weird pattern covering him, and as

he looked back for a moment to the

shaft he had came out of, he real-

ized that this pattern was an end-

less array of shafts, just like the one

he experienced from within. The

buildings rose, in a sharp perspec-

tive towards what he imagined to be

the sky, growing closely to each oth-

er with every floor. As they reached

the thick and dark smoke, it seemed

to him as though they were becom-

ing one gigantic, connected mass.

These huge structures were actual-

ly connected between them at every

possible height. At every wall, he

could see hundreds and thousands

of cables and networks, penetrating

the building skin, in various angles

and sizes. These tubes, it seemed,

were delivering something into the

building. Rapid flashes appeared

on each of them at every second,

creating an amazing spectacle of

shining lights hidden behind the

Smokey clouds. After a few mo-

ments of gazing at this sight, he

turned his down, an action he could

recall when he last performed. The

view was mirrored in a way. The

endlessness of the buildings was

not just towards the sky. The depth

of the world beneath him was even

greater. He looked down, as he was

grabbing the wall, and the same

instant light flashes, flickering ev-

ery second underneath a rug of

smoke. He could see in some of the

tubes some sort of movement, as

he thought of that, he realized that

he was completely alone. He looked

around again. The sky and the earth

looked exactly the same. He felt

as if he was standing in the border

between two worlds. Twin faces of

the same unimaginable reality. He

decided he would find a way down,

as if it looked more appealing, when

in fact it was exactly the same, but

something was pulling him down.

He did not know whether it was

the weakness of his legs or gravity,

but he did not bother himself with

this thought. He started moving to-

wards what seemed to be a place to

descend, carefully walking on the

buildings’ edge. Slowly but surely

he was able to crawl down using the

buildings’ levels, coming closely to

the surface of smoke and darkness.

The odor was growing stronger by

the second, and he could realize by

this point that it were those clouds

beneath and above that smelled

so strongly. As he approached the

clouds a weird feeling took over

him. It was fear. A feeling that he

has not felt in years, perhaps ever.

He kept on going downward, slowly

losing the vision of building growing

up, and simultaneously discover-

ing how deep they actually are. As

he penetrated the smoke he could

now see the same array of network

connecting the buildings, shin-

ing through a thick mist, lighting

nothing and everything at the same

time. More than once he thought

to himself that this descend had

no end, and that he would keep on

crawling until he will collapse into

the abyss, but after a few hours,

the mist had started to clear, and

the lights became fewer and fewer.

A large field of ruins began to dis-

cover itself; he was getting closer

to the ground. The ground itself

was grey and cracked, and he could

notice large bright roads between

the ruins. He reached the build-

ings’ bottom, and quickly looked

up to see the way that he had gone

through. Ironically, it looked almost

identical to the view he had several

hours before, when came out of the

shaft, but this time, he was standing

on solid ground. He looked around

again. The only lights he could see

were the echoes of the flashes high

above that gave these strange sur-

roundings a grey, monochromatic

feel. He started walking towards

the road he had seen, which was the

brightest thing around him. It was

as if the brightness of the road was

grabbing him, calling him to walk

on it, even though there was noth-

ing on it that could recognize. It was

a bright shadow, in a world with no

light, and somehow, it reminded

him in a twisted way, of the time

he had spent with his friends on a

beach, while sitting in his room. He

started walking slowly on the road,

looking around to find a place with

some light, penetrating through

the endless field of metal, concrete

and speed above him. As he walked

through the clear road, he noticed a

wide range of abandoned buildings.

Some were two stories high, some

were six, some a few more. As he

looked closer, he saw a strange

sight. Some of these ruins were

capsulated in the huge high rises

that were growing into the sky. It

seemed as if they insects, trapped

in amber, frozen in time for eter-

nity. The more he stared at them,

the more fascinating they seemed

to him. Stone heads and balconies;

metal handrails, craved in the shape

of leaves and flowers; different tex-

tures of plaster, brick and stone

slowly appeared behind the trans-

lucent covering of the buildings’

shell. He could notice signs and text

appearing on some of them, stating

what these buildings used to be - a

bank; a restaurant; a clothing store;

a supermarket. A sharp penetrating

question entered his head, followed

by another one, and another. What,

how, where, who, he kept repeating

without finishing a coherent phrase.

His mumbling kept going, as well

as his feet. He wandered through

the streets of his forgotten city,

looking everywhere and nowhere

at the same time. The boulevard

kept going, twisting and turning

wildly. The cracked asphalt seemed

as if several different earthquakes

have struck it. The pavement was

lifted and twisted into itself, shat-

tering its enormous weight onto

itself. Several streets were stacked

on top of each other, as if dropped

from above. As he looked at them,

his gaze moved up towards the

sky, excepting to see this downfall

of concrete, stone and machine.

Above, he saw the remains of those

streets that have crushed, hanging

in mid air, stopping in the middle of

nothing, Wires of metal and com-

munication hanging from its tips.

He remembered reading about

these roads - the roads that have

been left behind, the lost highways

of the past. An endless network

of highways, transporting people,

when they were still out, from one

place to another. Layers and layers

that were piled on top of each other

as the need for them grew. Some

were wider than others, some more

steep. Some had huge concrete col-

umns holding them, and some, it

seemed, were standing on needles.

But all of them were abandoned a

long time ago. Like an old man’s

face, the wrinkles and fatigue of the

roads was clear.

He kept walking and looking. Us-

ing his eyes as he had never be-

fore. Staring into things, and not at

them. The muscles of his neck were

hurting him, but he could not stop

turning his gaze at everything. Ev-

erything that he had known existed,

but never seen or imagined. His

eyes were flickering, but now it was

somehow natural. How strange, he

thought, that in this wasteland, my

eyes are doing what they should.

As the street was sliding down,

he saw the theatre. It was a huge

structure, broken and shattered but

still, to him it looked what he could

imagine it used to be - a giant white

hall, with long pillars supporting

its falling roof. The leftovers of the

staircases were facing the street

where he came from. He wanted to

walk inside, but suddenly fear took

over him. He passed quickly by it,

looking around at what seemed to

be the theater’s square. As he kept

moving forward, peeking through

the different shards of the building,

he kept on seeing more and more

of the same huge buildings that

have occupied the city. As if some-

thing, a disease of some sort had

taken over them, and had let them

run wild into what used to be the

sky. He passed the theater, and an-

other shattered hall next to it, and

passed onto another twisted bou-

levard. This one was no different,

except for the fact that this time, he

could see in its middle, between the

rubble and the piled roads, dry and

dead roots of trees. It seemed, that

these roots, that had no bark, trunk

or branches grew into the cracks of

the streets, but have stopped long

ago. He walked between the twists,

hopping from one street to the one

the used to be above, and rests on it,

like a beached whale. His legs were

slowly growing weak but he felt

somehow more confident in their

strength. He moved quickly through

the shadows of the building above,

paying attention to every encapsu-

lated block. Its resemblance to the

ones he had seen before. Jars of

preservation, holding within them

the truth of an old life.

Suddenly, he stopped. As he looked

forward, his gaze focused, and for a

long moment, his consistent wink-

ing had stopped. On his left a mass

of the diseased architecture rose

and on his right a mirrored image

of the same illness. But in front of

him there was nothing, or at least

a place that used to be empty. A

huge and clear pavement was in

front of him. Three streets and a

single wreck surrounded this flat

square. The buildings around these

streets were just as high and grey

as the ones he had seen before, but

an array of roads was coming in and

out of them. It was as if the streets

surrounding the pavement had left

the ground and grew in a network of

roads circling this weird place. The

pavement itself was almost an illu-

sion. On one hand, it was cracked

and twisted, as the streets leading

to it, on the other it seemed un-

touched and pure, as if no one had

ever used it. A strong sensation

grabbed him from inside, an unset-

tling notion that he could not ex-

plain. Perhaps it was seeing the ru-

ins of something clear. The cracks

and shatters of the road he could

somehow grasp. It was as if they

had grown old and died, but this

place was different. This place did

not age. In fact, it was never even

born. It was as if he saw the death

of an unborn child; the end of a road

before its origin; the crossing of the

finish line, before the starting gun.

As he looked at this paradox of a

place, he started breathing heavily

like never before. His legs and arms

started to shiver and his back start-

ed to fold. He slowly collapsed to the

ground, pulled his hands towards

his eyes, and as he slowly closed

them, without thinking of how long

this wink will take, he started to cry.

A bright white and clear ray of light

penetrated through the shattered

ceiling. As it slowly crawled into the

room, it broke time and time again

on the steel bars breaching the ex-

posed concrete. One of the men lying

on the floor slowly opened his eyes

and took a deep breath. He raised

his back from the cracked floor and

looked around. His group was still

there, where they all fell asleep

the night before. 9 other men, and

10 women, lying in couples on the

floor. He smiled to himself, think-

ing back to the time they had met

and not quite remembering how

much time passed since. How they

found him, hiding underneath one

the collapsed roads hides and con-

vinced him to join them, when they

were only a group of 3. His partner

lying next to him started to wake

up slowly as well. He quietly rose

from the floor, as he did not want to

rush her waking up, and paced to-

wards the light. He looked through

the crack in the wall and the curved

steel frame, and smiled. The north-

ern light was soft and warm, and

as he looked towards it, and at the

boulevard stretching from north

to south, he took great pride in

what he saw. The work of him and

his partners. As he scratched his

head, he slowly turned around and

walked to the adjacent wall. His

smile quickly straightened and his

gaze turned serious. He picked up a

wrinkled plastic bottle, and looked

towards the boulevard going south

and curving to the west. He could

not see the sea in the horizon, but

he knew it was there. He saw it with

his own eyes on one of their expedi-

tions. Soon. he thought to himself.

We’ll get there soon.

He turned around and saw that his

partner was still lying on the floor.

Her eyes were wide open, looking

at him, with a quiet and profound

admiration. Good morning, she

sighed while stretching her hands.

He walked towards her. Good morn-

ing, he shortly replied. He leaned

slowly towards her and kissed her,

as he did every morning since the

first time he woke up next to her.

He could not get over the touch of

her lips, how warm they felt, how

red they were, how real. What are

you smiling about, she asked him.

As he listened to her question, his

smile got even bigger. What a voice.

Vibrant. Delicate. Soft. Real. Noth-

ing baby, he answered. Just feels

like it’s going to be a good one.

The whole group was slowly waking

up as well. After having the morn-

ing ritual of basking in the little

light they had coming into the ruin

that they were staying in, and then

looking north proudly and south to-

wards the next ruin they may find,

they gathered around in a small

circle on the floor. Between them

there were a few bottles of water,

and canned food they picked up on

their journeys through the city. As

they had their modest breakfast,

one of the men told the group of

a dream he had had the night be-

fore. In his dream, he found him-

self walking in their city, with his

partner, and all of them as well. As

they were walking towards the sun-

set, more and more couples joined

them from every corner. They were

climbing off buildings, rising from

the bottoms of the ground, break-

ing ceiling and walls, and joining

them, in a slow and silent walk. By

the time the sun has reached its

lowest point before disappearing, a

red and orange hue spread over the

sky, taking over the grey and thick

fog, dispersing it as if were dust

on a wall. All the people gathered

around, and as the red hue turned

blue and then night black, the stars

appeared above them.

As he finished telling his dream, his

company looked at each, and back

at him, and suddenly all burst into

uncontrolled laughter. “That will

be the day!” One of them shouted.

“Red and orange sky!? What are you

on, man?” The man started laugh-

ing himself, partly embarrassed.

Yet, he was proud of his dream and

even more of the fact that he dreamt

it. Oh, how vivid it was, he thought.

So vivid.

All right people, one of the women

said all of a sudden, cutting down

all laughter and jokes. We have

a long way ahead of us, and who

knows who we might meet on the

way. They all packed up they few

things each of them had in the

made up back packs and nap sacks,

and started climbing through the

steel frame, which only a few mo-

ments ago framed their gaze.

They each crawled out the crack in

the wall they carved only a few days

before, and started mounting down

the skyscraper which was their

home in the past days. The struc-

ture they walked in was unimagina-

ble. The steel frame of glass walls

sprung out of the building, twist-

ing and turning in steep diagonals,

turning itself into walls at one point,

a ceiling at another, and stairs to-

wards its end. The frame itself was

covered with layers upon layers of

different materials. Wood, concrete,

plastic. A collage of colors, textures

and times. Every small ray of light

that somehow penetrated through

the wall of towers around them,

broke a thousand different ways

on every material and every angle,

and then quickly disappeared. This

sight, even though they have seen

it dozens of times, and they were

the ones to create it, never ceased

to amaze any of them. Their de-

scend was slow, and even though

they were in a rush, no one dared to

make haste. As they kept climbing

down, they were all looking around

themselves constantly. Occasion-

ally their gazes crossed each other,

and were always met with a smile,

and a look of understanding.

As they reached some sort of a flat

surface, they all grouped together

underneath one of the surfaces

hovering above them. In an almost

perfect line, they all stood there for

a few moments and just gazed at the

structure they crawled out of. Be-

neath them there were layers upon

layers of roads and buildings. Above

them, a mirrored image. And in the

midst of the paradox, in the middle

of this parallel projection of heaven

and earth, a crack. An accident. A

fracture of metal, glass and con-

crete, twisting in every direction and

every angle. The sheets of materi-

als were piled on it, creating an al-

most live shell, climbing on its skel-

eton, inside and out of the buildings’

flat and transparent skin. The light

that was barely peeking through the

thick layer of grey air, shattered on

every angle and created and array

of different, ever changing textures

and images. It was as if that tower

was erupted, and out of its eruption,

a new life grew, violently and force-

fully, claiming matter, and light to

itself. Taking it and distributing it to

anyone who wishes, and in a short

moment, this ruined creature, this

monster of scaffoldings, will pull

itself out of the poor and forgotten

building, which was its womb, and

move on. Leach on to another dead

creation, and with its ruin, give it

life. A life given through shatters,

and light.

They stood there. Silent. After a few

moments their looks turned from

their creation to each other. They

all smiled again. Silently. Their

walk was the same as it always

had been. They always knew how

it starts, but never where it ends.

Every morning they packed every-

thing and started walking north

first, tracing back to where they

have already been. Looking and

seeing if their work has had any ef-

fect, and by that they all hoped that

it had released someone else to the

outside. Someone that could join

their group and be its twenty first

member. They walked through the

passage they have created in the

weeks and months before. Layers

upon layers of shattered walls, dis-

mantled and peeled from buildings

and towers. Around them, steel

skeletons were standing exposed,

covered with the same shells the

climbed on a few moments before.

Folding in and out of the frame, and

slowly turning flat into the skin of

the high risers they used to be. As

they progressed through this thin,

re - ruined urban layer of their own

doing, they all wondered about how

they had gotten there. One of them

was found in an empty apartment.

another one broke out by himself

and wandered until they found

them. No one however knew of the

first pair. The founders of the group.

They appeared together, to the first

member they found, but never re-

vealed their own story to anyone. It

was as if they had always wandered

the streets, looking for “breakers”

- those who break free, and then

break in.

After a few hours of walking up and

down through the ramps and lay-

ers, through the shatters of high

ways and exposed buildings, they

finally reached the point from which

they usually turn. It was in a way, a

place that they could not or would

not deal with. All the other build-

ings, towers, streets and squares

were known to them. There was

always a first crack in the wall that

made them start their work. A cut

in the dead urban flesh. This place

was different however. It was un-

touched. Empty and clear. Perfect

in the most unimaginable way. They

all knew it, and were ready to turn

around from this disturbing place.

They stopped again for a short

rest and sat down on the ground.

One of the women reached for her

pack, and as she turned around she

heard a weak sigh. Help me.... She

jumped from the ground instantly

and saw a hand reaching for the air

and towards the very little light that

was in this place. The voice spoke

again. Help.... I....broke... I broke

out of there.... help...

After the group of strangers pulled

him from beneath the road, he

slowly leaned on one of the walls.

He looked towards them and for a

few long moments all he saw were

silhouettes. Black silhouettes, on

a background a grey, bright light.

His eyes quickly adjusted to the

light and he was then able to dis-

cern their faces. Ten women. Ten

men. All young, all dirty, all strong.

Welcome, one of them said. You’re

a breaker now, He continued with a

smile. And from the looks of it , you

look like a natural.

As he sat there he found it very

hard to pay attention to the flow of

information thrown at him by this

new group of people. He kept rub-

bing his hands against each other.

He could not even remember when

he last felt the touch of stranger’s

hand on his own. The feeling was

strange, but somehow exciting.

His consistent rubbing and lack of

attention disturbed him. He was

afraid he might look strange to his

new company. In fact, the whole no-

tion of looking somehow to some-

one felt strange to him. If he had

only known that they all, every sin-

gle one of them, went through the

same experiences, when they were

found by their predecessors.

After a short while they helped him

get back on his feet. A touch of wa-

ter that reached his lips revived him,

but his legs were still weak. Don’t

worry, said one of the men. They’ll

get their strength back faster than

you think.

They started walking back from

whence they came. It was almost

the same path he took before he

reached the clear square which

made him collapse, but this time

the road felt and looked different.

Instead of walking through the

straight path that he had taken,

they kept climbing and descend-

ing on different platforms. He kept

thinking to himself that this is not

the shortest way to where they are

trying to go, wherever that may be.

He saw the shortest way beside

him, beneath him, above him. All

these roads that were built in order

to get from one point to another at

maximum efficiency were now de-

serted. He decided to let his com-

pany let him to wherever they want,

and however they want, and as this

thought crossed his mind, he could

feel the muscles on his legs gaining

strength.

They kept crawling up and down,

through metal frames, wooden

panels, concrete walls, and glass

surfaces. Each lying in a different

angle, defying his moves, challeng-

ing his way and shifting his gaze. He

slowly started to gain speed in his

walk, passing some of his compan-

ions. As he passed by them, they

were all smiling and pushing him

forward, delighted to see that his

agility and stamina are coming back

faster than all of them expected. Af-

ter a few hours he was climbing by

himself through the shatters of the

buildings surrounding him, glanc-

ing at certain points into the insides

of an abandoned apartment or a

forgotten office.

The sky was slowly growing darker

and as the evening progressed they

found themselves in a different area

from the one they started there

day at. The group gathered in front

of him in a circle and started talk-

ing. One of the women broke out

of the circle and approached him.

She crouched and put her hand on

his shoulder. He shivered for a mo-

ment but as she started speaking

he quickly grew accustomed to her

touch. We are going to show you,

ok? We are going to show you how

to break it. How to be a breaker.

Tomorrow, you are going to help

us ruin this city, she said with a

sincere look. Ruin it, he asked. Is

it not already ruined, He continued

completely puzzled. No dear, she

said. It really isn’t. It’s perfect right

now. There’s nothing left to do. We

have to give them something to do.

To us, you understand? We have to

have something to do. So we have

to break it. All of it. And then they

build it. They will built again. And

next time it will be better, she fin-

ished, not before she whispered two

words that shook him. I hope.

She rose and went back to the

group. They pulled out tools and

picked up some of the panels and

bars they had picked up on the way.

One of them approached the wall

in front of him. He reached with his

hand and slowly moved it on the

building’s facade. After a couple

of minutes he grabbed a bar and

pushed it into a crack he had found

in the same wall. A great crack-

ling noise started, and the rest of

the group joined in the disman-

tling of the building’s skin. After a

few short moments, the shatters of

the wall were already lying on the

ground, still attached with steel

veins to its ruined body. The picked

up the shatters and piled them in

different angles on top of each to

create some sort of an entrance to

this building they had just breached

into. They all went in, but he was

left outside, fearing to enter the

space from the likes of which he

had crawled out just a few days ago.

Come in, the women he had spo-

ken before with said. Don’t worry,

it’s not the same. He stood up and

carefully walked towards the made

up entrance. As he glanced across

the concrete sheets, he saw the

rest of the group in the center of

the small space, gathered around

a stack of metal bars that were

piled up into a sort of small tower.

As the men were climbing on this

pyramid they had built, the women

were covering parts of it with other

sheets of concrete and wood. They

quickly started dismantling the

ceiling and exposing its insides. The

sight amazed him. The quickness,

the randomness, the swiftness of

their bodies. He slowly fell to the

ground, sat and looked at them as

they broke their way through to

the upper floor. As his amazement

grew, so did his weariness and his

eyes quickly started shutting down.

He fell asleep, leaning on a wall,

which moments ago was not even

there, and was leaning itself on an-

other wall behind it. When he woke

up, a strange sensation took over.

He could see the rest of the group

sleeping around him, and a bright

ray of light penetrating through the

wall he saw broken down and then

put up the day before. He walked

up to the wall and looked towards

the north, smiling, and with a great

sense of conviction he turned south,

and looked through a new opening

he had not seen the day before, to-

wards the boulevard that twisted to

the west. He took a few steps be-

hind, and found himself within the

pyramid of metal bars that was con-

structed during the night. He raised

his head, he did not see the ceiling

that was there a few hours ago. As

he blinked both his eyes rapidly and

with disbelief, nothing really hap-

pened. Between the steel poles and

shards of stone and glass he could

see the sky. It was red and orange.

“Architecture and war are not incompatible. Architecture is war. War is archi-

tecture.

I am at war with my time, with history, with all authority that resides in fixed and

frightened forms.

I am one of millions who do not fit in, who have no home, no family, no doctrine,

no firm place to call my own, no known beginning or end, “no sacred and pri-

mordial site”

I declare war on all icons and finalities, on all histories that would chain me with

my own falseness, my own pitiful fears.

I know only moments, and lifetimes that are as moments, and forms that ap-

pear in infinite strength, then “melt into air”.

I am an architect, a constructor of worlds, a sensualist who worships the flesh,

the melody, a silhouette against the darkening sky. I cannot know your name.

Nor can you know mine.

Tomorrow, we begin together the construction of a city.”

- Lebbeus Woods -

Bibliography

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