Dorchester

The conception of this project derived from the idea of using my existing apartment-a one-bedroom + dining room, located on the first floor of a 14-unit building—as a template to explore notions of reduction. The goal was to retain the existing structure, built in the 1920s, while removing any adornment and personal effects. The experiment aimed to imagine how one could create a spartan lifestyle within their current habitation, simply by limiting ornamentation and curating mass and texture. Often, we fantasize about making a pilgrimage to the Abbey of Le Thoronet or the Ryan-ji Temple, but rarely do we have the opportunity to engage with these monastic ideals without relocating. Here, the idea is to create a reductive beauty in my own living space, drawing architectural inspiration from Cistercian abbeys and incorporating it into a life that is not quite as austere. One might desire a place of stillness, without necessarily seeking a place for prayer.
    The removal of redundant separations revealed the inherent strength of the space. The apartment takes on the feel of a wide hallway, transitioning from the semi-public entrance area to the private bedroom at the far end. Living on the first floor brings the benefit of higher ceilings, which mitigate the feelings of metropolitan claustrophobia. The northeastern wall, with its window openings, faces the masonry wall of a neighboring single-family residence. The absence of direct sunlight results in a consistent ambient illumination, making window coverings unnecessary.

  Due to a century of wear, refinishing, and layers of lacquer several centimeters thick, the original oak flooring has been replaced with full-length Douglas fir boards. This raw, natural material reconnects the space with the environmental reality beyond the urban confines. The lacquered oak planks, though once fitted, hinted at this connection, but their treatment kept it just out of reach. In abbeys and temples, similar applications of full-length planks are common. Wood is also used sparingly for the furnishings. The Donald Judd daybed, made from ebonized oak, confines its inhabitant to a contemplative existence, much like that of a church pew. Echoing the form of the daybed, the harvest table is just large enough for study or a small communal meal. There is no decoration, only space for a modest library, subtly highlighted by indirect lighting.
    Altogether, these comprehensive changes create a functional but intentionally limited space. The focus is on the quality of mass and light, not on design objects. This reworking of space could very well enhance daily life without necessitating a complete lifestyle change. However, a significant removal of oneself from contemporary ideals might still be required. While romantic notions of radical reduction are appealing, they must be accompanied by an equally dramatic reduction in lifestyle.