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拍品專文
'Deterritorialization is becoming a human condition, "the home is past, it no longer is".
We build without understanding that building really belongs to dwelling, without understanding that we do not dwell because we build, but we build because we dwell.
I dwell, you dwell. The way in which you are and I am, the manner in which we humans are on the earth, is Buan, dwelling. To be a human being means to be on the earth as a mortal. It means to dwell.
It is language that tells us about the nature of a thing. The limits of my words are the limits of the language.
What is beyond language then? What is beyond the limits?
The Old English and High German word for building, buan, means to dwell. This signifies: to remain, to stay in a place. The real meaning of the verb bauen, namely, to dwell, has been lost. Let us listen once more to what anguage says to us. The Old Saxon wuon, the Gothic wunian like the old word bauen, means to remain, to stay in a place.
But the Gothic wunian says more distinctly how this remaining is experienced. Wunian means: to be at peace, to be brought to peace, to remain in peace.
We are still trying to rethink building because it's the essential component to dwelling.
Deterritorialization and alienation were enhanced by the rationality of modernity and its different forms of architecture. Little by little an unbridgeable gap grew between dwelling and modernity and poetic dwelling is what is left.
Departing from Heidegger's existential impossibility of dwelling many tried to rethink "building", some in a romantic and some in a humanistic way. Still others were in complete opposition, critical and extreme, believing that the only thing left for humanity was to start all over again.
Another level of deterritorialization appears when we live in temporariness,
in refuge, in exile. Being landless.
We realize that in the absence of this land, even the poetic dwelling is lost. How do we dwell and how do we build without a land? How do we build temporariness when it is mutating constantly into a permanent state? What becomes of building and dwelling between the imagined and the real and between the temporary and the permanent? How do we build without a land? Maybe the only thing left for architecture is to reveal the impossibility of poetical dwelling through empty signs and sublime uselessness.
Could building without a land be a form of rejection to loss? If we dwell enough on building without a land, could this reveal a moment of true rejection to all forms of normalization, coping and numbness?
The strongest moments of change are only recognizable in the absence of any reference to a better future.
(Saba Innab, 2012)
We build without understanding that building really belongs to dwelling, without understanding that we do not dwell because we build, but we build because we dwell.
I dwell, you dwell. The way in which you are and I am, the manner in which we humans are on the earth, is Buan, dwelling. To be a human being means to be on the earth as a mortal. It means to dwell.
It is language that tells us about the nature of a thing. The limits of my words are the limits of the language.
What is beyond language then? What is beyond the limits?
The Old English and High German word for building, buan, means to dwell. This signifies: to remain, to stay in a place. The real meaning of the verb bauen, namely, to dwell, has been lost. Let us listen once more to what anguage says to us. The Old Saxon wuon, the Gothic wunian like the old word bauen, means to remain, to stay in a place.
But the Gothic wunian says more distinctly how this remaining is experienced. Wunian means: to be at peace, to be brought to peace, to remain in peace.
We are still trying to rethink building because it's the essential component to dwelling.
Deterritorialization and alienation were enhanced by the rationality of modernity and its different forms of architecture. Little by little an unbridgeable gap grew between dwelling and modernity and poetic dwelling is what is left.
Departing from Heidegger's existential impossibility of dwelling many tried to rethink "building", some in a romantic and some in a humanistic way. Still others were in complete opposition, critical and extreme, believing that the only thing left for humanity was to start all over again.
Another level of deterritorialization appears when we live in temporariness,
in refuge, in exile. Being landless.
We realize that in the absence of this land, even the poetic dwelling is lost. How do we dwell and how do we build without a land? How do we build temporariness when it is mutating constantly into a permanent state? What becomes of building and dwelling between the imagined and the real and between the temporary and the permanent? How do we build without a land? Maybe the only thing left for architecture is to reveal the impossibility of poetical dwelling through empty signs and sublime uselessness.
Could building without a land be a form of rejection to loss? If we dwell enough on building without a land, could this reveal a moment of true rejection to all forms of normalization, coping and numbness?
The strongest moments of change are only recognizable in the absence of any reference to a better future.
(Saba Innab, 2012)