I had often thought to myself that if I were to work anywhere in the U.S. after I graduate, my dream job would have to be somewhere in south Florida, not just because of the great atmosphere, but because on t.v. at least, it most closely resembled my homeland. This Christmas however, I overnighted in Miami en-route to St. Lucia and I discovered that other than the weather (and even this wasn't true during this particular juncture), there was very little similarity between the two places. Since my dad lives in Fort Lauderdale, an hour away from Miami, I got an opportunity to see a little more of the place during the drive to his home. I don't know why, but subconsciously, I always felt that south Florida would feel and look like home. Apart from the few grapefruit and mango trees I noticed in people's back yards and of course, the close proximity to the ocean, there were really no other comparisons I could readily draw. And in retrospect, that was a good thing. Some aspects of a landscape should always remain unique. That is what continues to draw you to it, even if it is only for a couple of weeks in the year.

Who I Work For

An architect's work is usually loaded with deep rooted meaning. His/ her work often reflects some deep rooted quality or cause that he/ she is trying to convey and while there are times when certain individuals operate under the guise of being true architects and have no real passion or meaning behind their work, these individuals are few and far between and are often shunned by the rest of the architecture world. Whether it is an architect-engineer so fascinated with the biology of the planet that he insists on reflecting its gestures in his work, or a man so insistent on perfection that after building the house and all the furnishings, he would design and make the clothing to be worn in it as well. No matter how frivolous or complex our cause may be, it is important that we have one. I for one, am a strong advocate for the natural environment and a peaceful coexistence with it.

There is something present in our innate nature that just feels at ease in the unbuilt environment. Something about a symphony of crickets at night, or the majesty of a waterfall, or the sight of a scarlet cardinal perched on a tree branch always seems to leave us (or me at least) in a subtle awe. But then, at some point in our existence, we decided that it would be better to completely isolate ourselves from these elements, as if they were somehow beneath us, designing and building landscapes completely void of any natural life whatsoever, except for the occasional trained dog or cat and or few flower pots here and there. Ironically, in the absence of human intervention, these very same pets often instinctively disappear into the unbuilt world when they are near death. Industrialization, while helping us earn a livelihood has inadvertently robbed us of a basic consciousness about life. We are content to observe it through electronic media, what a poor substitute!

I believe that it was us as designers who created this mindset of exclusion in the first place and it is therefore our responsibility to once again instill - by virtue of design - an awareness about nature. In my mind, there should exist a symbiosis between the built and the rustic, people should be at least partially immersed into nature. The onus is on us to ensure that our clients are able to celebrate life other than just their own, and I sincerely believe that this can be done through design.

Time Out's From Architecture

I am of the opinion that there is a very unfortunate aspect developing in studio culture. There is often a very noticeable change that students go through in their general attitude towards each other. It seems to me that as some students progress in grade level, they digress in the avenue of social skills. It is sad and almost frightening to see that the same person with whom you could have a decent conversation just a few months before is now more inclined to pass you by without even a greeting. Fortunately though, this disease has limited to small spores around the school, and for the most part, students could still come together and mingle as young adults should.

Whenever possible, a few students from the junior year get together, put the computers and sketchbooks aside and have a good time. And as is noticeable from the pictures, things can get pretty crazy. I believe however, that this is what studio culture needs a little more of. I believe that it is these social gatherings that promote genuine bonding, bonding that is at times desperately needed in a major that is at times rather intimidating.

Where The Heart Is

In St. Lucia, many people are very close to their extended families, and as strange as it may seem, siblings often times don't leave their parents' home until well into their 20's or even 30's. Though this happens purely for economic reasons most times, the habit ensures that strong bonds are built within the family. It also ensures that culture is passed on through generations since it is not uncommon to find three generations under one roof. But along with the great bonds that are built comes a greater sense of loss when someone goes away or passes away and so is the case with my now deceased grandfather.

I never really developed a true appreciation for my grandfather until about my late teens. Of course, he was always there and it wasn't a change in him that made me appreciate him more, but rather a maturation in me. That is why in my mind, the most sentimental item my family possesses. Papa, as we all called him, was a talented guitar player, he would tell us stories of him playing at weddings and other functions in his younger days. He didn't play much as he grew older, but whenever he did, it was always a treat. His fingers danced along the guitar strings as if he had never stopped playing. He had even tried to teach me once, I was a little surprised to learn that he actually knew the notes he would strum, as I am sure that music did not form part of his curriculum at school. Eventually papa did end up giving the guitar to me. Of course I always valued it, but since he is gone, I treasure it now more than ever.

The St. Lucian homes built during and before the earlier half of the 1900's had a very peculiar aspect to them. They were built with the kitchens as a completely separate entity to the rest of the house. This was because prior to this a lot of meals were prepared on pit fires. In order to prevent the rest of the house from smelling like smoke and at the same time prepare it in a sheltered environment, this was the only option. The trend continued even after gas cookers became more common My grandparents' home is one such example. The old kitchen isn't the most aesthetically pleasing thing you'll ever see. A brick wall enclosure with a dark blue exterior with a light green interior. The inside is equipped with a refrigerator, stove, and all the other stuff that would generally go into a kitchen. Added to this though, is a dining set and a few extra chairs at various locations around the room. During the day, this room functions as any normal kitchen, with regular food related activities taking place in it, but around six o' clock in the evening, the kitchen takes on a whole new identity. All members of the immediate family that live in close proximity to the house all gather in and share interesting events of the day or jokes that they might have remembered. The laughter is always loud and heartfelt and sometimes, so too are the arguments. This old kitchen has inadvertently become a sort of catalyst for bonding within my family. This kitchen in the past has also served as a reception area in the past.

As a predominantly catholic country, a child's first communion is quite a momentous occasion, equipped with cake, condiments, meats and all sorts of food and drink. Mine was no exception. That was the first big party I ever had. And all the hustle and bustle was taken care of from right inside that 10 ft x 12 ft enclosure. I guess that what makes my particular little corner of the world unique is clearly not luxury, but rather the joy we find within each other.

Making It Right "We Live In A Beautiful World But Ugly Souls Push The Buttons"

One of my great loves in this world is poetry, more specifically, dub poetry. Every so often therefore, I go on youtube to look up old excerpts from HBO's late night special "Def Poetry Jam". Topics written about by these poets are boundless, they range from the playful and frivolous such as Dave Chappelle's "Mr. Fong" (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PHbVu3ienHk) to the more hard hitting such as Oscar Brown Jr.'s "Children of Children" (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L5lIeU3P9gs). Of course after Hurricane Katrina, many artists did spare a line or two for the unfortunate victims but it was a poet called Black Ice who did a piece called "The Ugly Show" that really gave me a raw insight into the mindset of the average man in the poor, black New Orleans community (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GrNl6JCbOEw). One line that really summed everything up for me - not only for this tragedy but in general - was " We live in a beautiful world, but ugly souls push the buttons"

The statement suggested that those people with the influence and financial backing to make a major difference in the lives of the less fortunate are often unwilling to do such.The poet is also disgruntled at the fact that the government finds time to take over smaller countries while its own people at home are suffering. So while multi-million dollar drones were sent into Iraq, enough regular boats and helicopters failed to make it to a disaster struck area on the mainland itself.

It is very consoling to learn that Black Ice was not entirely right. This "Making it Right" project, spear-headed by actor Brad Pitt, has shown that there are still some beautiful souls around and that in the face of adversity, you might still be able to find a helping hand. It is admirable how one man has initiated such a grand undertaking, and in the process solicited the volunteer efforts of architecture companies throughout the world (as to whether or not they are all genuine in their efforts is a different matter).

The hope is that "The Big Easy" will be restored to former glory, that the city will once again become solely synonymous with great jazz music, gumbo, crawfish Etouffee and Mardi Gras and shed its newly developed persona of the hurricane ravaged city within which sits a highly populated, poverty stricken and gang infested black community that is seldom given any reason to hope.

Author of books such as "Male and Female" and "Coming to Age In Samoa" Margaret Mead once said, "Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has." It is with this hope that we should go forward, not seeking a change in the entire world, but in one single community, maybe that's where it will all start.

Is All Architecture?

Is all architecture? In other words, is everything built to be resided in architecture? Well, I think that if that were the case, that would make my job as a student a lot simpler. If all I had to do was simply make habitable structures that could be traversed, then I for one, would build cubicles - maybe changing the dimensions from time to time - equipped with nothing more than an access door and dare my professors to give me a bad grade!

What one could say though, is that architecture has a very wide scope and that it comes in as many forms as there are world cultures; each one with structures specific to their lifestyle. Even within these these cultures though, is an appreciation for something built with precision, care, order and rigor, within each is an appreciation for their own brand of architecture.

In a world that keeps getting smaller and smaller with the advent of globalization, where the U.S. imports zhu zhu pets from China (and from most accounts at least, this one isn't hazardous) and China imports Hellboy from the U.S., where all you have to do to appreciate the Eiffel Tower is go to Google Earth (or Las Vegas for that matter), our sense of place may be disappearing. Instead of cultures unique to place, there is now a growing "world culture". And perhaps the only nontransferable items are a culture's architecture simply because of the vastly varying climates occurring through our planet, but I best not speak too quickly, because by the time I finish this entry some business tycoon in Japan may decide to build a replica of William Lethaby's All Saints' Church over there!

click on link...

http://www.brockhampton.com/japan.htm