Esparon, the house on a mountain

I just got back from helping architect friends to build their house in South of France. One hour from Nîmes, the town with the beautiful light there is a small village on top of a mountain. They bought an old ruin, and preserving the old walls and the layout, they are now building on to it.

There was a full moon, and you could see the moonlit valley and the unfinished roof.
So quiet, you could hear the owl sounds and see the mountains 280 degrees around you.
Everything about this place is just magical.

Memory/Ruins

I have been flickering through photos of abandoned buildings/homes for a while, photographers like Bryan Schutmaat or Marchand and Meffre's photos of Detroit. There is something fascinating about ghost towns, about looking into peoples homes, and something even more fascinating looking at ruins, something touched, and then untouched.
What remains? What takes over the space?
It lives on, lives its own life, when everyone else has forgotten about it.

I think that just the presence of the abandoned creates very special state of mind. An atmosphere of void or chaos or just stillness.

A place always has memory. Sometimes its easy to read (or not) but the case of finding the poetry is also the case of finding the memory. To be able to read it (the memory, mystery and actions at a place) and to reread it or reinforce it, to create a new memory.

Memory can also be about associations, how we relate to our world. So different people would have diferent associations. Although architects often talk about "the soul" of a place, which then would be somehow at least semi-separated from our own associations.

Places definitely have an identity of its own, in my opinion (or lack of identity) independent of peoples associations. The sublime has memory.

From 'Grays the Mountain Sends' by Bryan Schutmaat

Ghost town Keelung, Taiwan by unknown photographer

The Pantheon memory

I would like to share with you one of the strongest architecture experiences I have ever had.
It was in Rome, traveling with one of my architect friends. We went around looking at sites, the sun was gazing hot in september and we went to the little square in front of Pantheon where we sat down and looked at people. The light was warm and the shadows long at Piazza della rotonda. It is one of those perfect smaller sized squares that surrounds you.
Once entering Pantheon me and my friend decided to split up. It was my first time visiting and expectations where both low and high, as they get when you are visiting one of the great ones for yourself.

I don't know how long we stayed there. The afternoon sun formed a perfect beam from the never ending, dissolving vault above. The light was just...magic. The the noise and steps from the tourist crowd altered and dissolved in space. I could hear the sound of birds wings slowly flapping and raising up in the ample space above me. The sense of space was incredible, I walked slowly around alternately absorbed by the different niches in the walls and the acoustics.
It was all so beautiful, I felt completely enclosed in this atmosphere, very small and amazed to be a part of it. The experience completely overwhelmed me and when I finally found my friend I had tears in my eyes from the strong experience that took me by surprise.
My friend also had a similar experience and we decided to sit by one of the extraordinary big pillars by the entrance. Under the high ceiling arranged with corinthian columns we talked a bit about how fantastic it was and how it was a very good idea to have walked around alone. The sun created a razor sharp edge between the cool shadow we where sitting in and the outside.
We talked about how it was definitely a lot in the acoustics, the light, the proportions, space and the sensation of being belitteled. Elements that someone sometime over 2 000 years ago created, that still stands and that enriched our lives and maybe strengthened our future experiences of space by adding to our minds library. I have had many experiences since, but this one will forever remain in my memory.

Photo, Emelie Nielson, 2009