Dorchester

The conception of this project came from the idea of using my existing apartment (a 1 bedroom + dining room on the first floor of a 14 unit building) as a template to explore notions of reduction. The idea was to keep the existing structure as it was built in the 1920s, but remove any adornment and personal effects. The purpose of this experiment is to imagine how one can create a spartan lifestyle in their existing habitation simply through the limiting of ornamentation and the curation of mass and texture. Often does one imagine making a pilgrimage to the Abbey at Le Thoronet or the Ryōan-ji Temple, but not often do we get to engage with these monastic fantasies without the aspect of relocation. The idea is to create a reductive beauty where I still reside, taking architectural features from Cistercian abbeys and incorporation them to a life that is not quite as austere. One can want a place where it is possible to be still, without necessarily wanting to pray in it.
    The removal of redundant separations revealed the strength of the space. The apartment becomes like a wide hallway, transitioning from the pseudo-public space of entrance, to the private space of the bedroom at the far end of the residence. The nature of residing on the first floor lends itself to higher ceilings, reducing the feeling of metropolitan claustrophobia. The north-eastern wall contains the only window openings in the main space, facing the masonry wall of the single-family residence the unit over. The lack of direct sunlight provides consistent ambient illumination of the space, removing the need for any window coverings.
   Due to a century of abuse, refinishing, and centimeters thick layers of lacquer, the flooring is changed from the twentieth century standard oak planks to full length Douglas fir boards. The raw, natural material discloses the environmental reality beyond the urbane confines of the city. The previous fitted lacquered oak planks hint towards this connection to the natural world, but through its treatment, puts it just out of reach. In the hallways and residences of abbeys and temples, one can find similar applications of full-length planks. Wood is also used for the sparse furnishings. The Donald Judd daybed is constructed of ebonized oak, confining its inhabitant to a contemplative existence akin to what one might find in a church pew. Echoing the daybed’s form, the harvest table is only large enough for study and a small group meal. There is no decoration, only the space for a small library highlighted by indirect lighting.
    Together, these comprehensive changes create a functional, but limited space. The focus is on the quality of mass and light, not design objects. It is possible this reworking of space is useful for everyday life without the change of lifestyle. However, it would take a drastic removal of oneself from contemporary life and ideals. Not much has changed in Western daily life in the century since this apartment was originally constructed and I imagine my rituals follow similar patterns to that of the original tenant. Romantic ideas of radical reduction are appealing, but they must follow a similar reduction in lifestyle.