: thoughts :

I’m really drawn to architecture and the idea that a building has a soul. The second we enter a space, or even upon viewing the exterior, we feel an emotion. No matter how subtle, the building instantly gives us a vibe that cannot be explained in architectural terms. There is no specific type of crown molding that universally defines the feeling of home, or a smell of a space that makes us all feel the same sense of longing or mourning. It is this emotion, and ambiguity in defining it, that I focus on; the juice and guts of a building that impact us whether we realize it or not. The specifics seem to be a mystery. Why this building says more than that one. Or why you feel safe and secure where I feel lonely and anxious. These preferences start to say something about the people existing in the space or maybe about why the space was created in the first place. Perhaps buildings are more than a place of shelter. Maybe they are created to experience different emotions in specific places.

In any case, it is the emotion that is important to me. To stay true to the feeling of a building and also it’s most basic function as shelter. A fabric building has volume and flexibility that give it personality. Shingles made of stitches, and doors made of color, bring life and movement to a once rigid structure. By adding straps and a closure, it becomes a backpack that hugs its owner for a ride past other buildings, inside of buildings, down sidewalks, and through alleyways. It can now experience the architecture it is a part of. No longer planted in the ground, it is free to move and explore the world just as we have explored it. How to capture the emotion of a building in fabric is something I’m still figuring out. The gray area between the feeling of a structure and its physical characteristics makes the process a constant discovery. There is no formula, just trial and error.