sensuality of the scape.

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the girl journeyed back to her heritage and stepped out into the waterscape so long remembered. she advanced, heaving a petite craft carved from the death of an ancient oak, each step reminding her of uncertainty within this landscape. her eyes told tales of solid ground whereas the nerves in the surface of her skin informed her otherwise. the weight of her determined form pushed on and felt each adjustment in the fertile platform; the vegetation transformed and she moved as the sensuality of the scape provoked each memory of lives past. she could smell the generous moisture in the atmosphere and feel the touch of the water as it began to frolic between her toes.

she looked out into a golden horizon, knowing the occurrence of subtle changes; even so, the landscape appeared of permanence, as if the peace of the place would just carry on into eternity. regardless of this sensation, the girl knew this earth was not still and unchanging. she stared at the present with thoughts of futures and of pasts. she considered how the snake of the river had deposited traces of distant environs, how these accumulations laid bare the possibility and substructure of growth. the drifting seeds found homage in the gumbo, took shape in delicate blooming and flourished in the encouragement of surroundings. the life of the landscape did transmit an ardent sphere and each ascending species brought an increase in that generosity. she could see residues of the diversity that had existed here and imagined how it had then withered; this history was then embedded in the horizon. as the roots lost the strength of each grasp, the residues of these environs did soon subside. the fresh waters were then assailed by the saline, the fowl retreated, the territory transformed. she looked towards a future of open water where this reminiscent world would become open sea, all previous existence vanishing in the depth. this change, the perpetual growth and disappearance, was a part of the extensive beating rhythm of existence; the comprehension of that time scale challenging the capabilities of each human mind.

her memory took her on a journey through each life affected by the change in this territory, the familiar enclave regarded with devotion. endless investigation and examined certainties raced alongside her thoughts, but the things that would take refuge in the shelter of her mind were markers of each human episode, each recollection more significant than any document. she was helpless in the magnitude of the epoch. the feeling that had brought her back to this place, the quest for immersion overcame her once again and she slid her craft into the waiting mixture of the brush. looking out at the quiet of the landscape, she sank herself into these waters. the girl pushed off against a moving ground and began to wander through this discrete wild; she coursed the growth, through the medium of earth and became invigorated with the awakening of each forgotten muscle. moving without the restriction of predetermined bearing, the girl soaked in the sweat of this enabled adventure.

the initial deviation

in the harsh perspiration of one glaring afternoon, the girl considered a mirage of forward foliage, an expanse of trees and the end of this generous expanse of challenge simmering before her eyes. she knew this place, once it had visually solidified from mere intuition, and gushing memory roared through her mind. at the turn, she would take refuge, regain her strength and prepare for each curved meander that would follow. she drove through the waters, swerving beside the chaos generated with delight from the powerful flex. in the protection of that sharp bend, the place where she had first truly seen this river, she pulled the tired craft from the mud. the girl sought a perch atop a boulder leaning out into the crescent wind; she placed herself along the edge of boundary defined at the convergence of arrested land and commanding water, each knee folded into the safety of her chest. in this first hook, as in each that would follow, the expanse of the water commanded the scope of view, interrupted only by the scattered ships expectantly held in waiting. each eager tanker, brimming with material and option, varnished her industrial understanding; the girl envisioned each determined offering shielded from her view by steel encasings. the sun beat the rutted scars forged into the form of subservient stone, and reflected from the bright tone of her saturated shoulder. the heat of her slowing breath was captured by the speed of wind, her savage hair careened about the spark of her face.

bits of porcelain

in her design of a muddy extraction process, she demanded a carving from the tumultuous movements, generating earthen curves from the storied alluvium. she used the pulley to whisk clumps of compacted dried silts and deposit them back within their sludgy origins. the swing lagged behind the vessel and as it deviated amongst the rushing torrents, the transforming geometries of sediment chiseled clay forms of submersion. hoisting the sculptures in order to immerse herself within the spaces they supplied, the girl too became a part of this mire. then, the River was no longer moving swiftly below her, she was amongst the muddy waters, she felt the currents swirling about her, was embedded in their golden energies and consumed by their strength. the mud billowed around her and paused, momentarily suspended in midair before softly tinkering into the bits of porcelain quivering below.

in every effort, she heard the saturated silence of the waterscape; despite intervention, it had only echoes of the utterances she desired. she heard the River as it broke against each draconian obstruction and when it skirted the flank of each passing galley; she heard the buoyant tides lapping the veneer of pitted rock, churning the gleaming wheels of reminiscent steamers, and gently seeping through the strands of tidal marshes. the sagacious voice in this animate and effervescent landscape had adjusted through time, as had it form, and it remembered. she would arouse these tactile places shrouded by the depths of this River - for beneath the surface, tucked in each wing dam of the waterscape, there was movement.

dunes on the riverbed

as larger than normal quantities of mud move down through the confinement system we have created, sultry, silty dunes move along the bottom of each straight away in the riverbed.

as levees are being destroyed to sacrifice one thing over another. as each and every spillway is opened. as coastal cities are sandbagged to feel some sort of sense of protection.

we use systems of control for an environment that is constantly in flux. obviously, for the lives we maintain, efforts to restrict the mighty, muddy waterscapes surrounding us are entirely necessary. however, as we keep providing barriers to protect ourselves, we are surprised when the world knocks down that wall. so we build larger ones. this practice seems to be blatantly ignorant and self indulgent.

im not suggesting that we give up and let nature take its course, the river shift to the basin and saltwater innundate the entire industry.

by any means.

i do think we are promoting a method that is superficial compared to the issues with which we are dealing.

why do we rebuild on lands that were previously swamp and marsh in the same manner that we had built upon them previously? why do we think that we can forsee every potential solution with mere calculations? why do we not expect floodwaters and the pumping stations to occasionally exceed capacity? what if we provided a sloping, changing infrastructure that has vegetation and incline, beginning to naturally deal with the issues we are having? instead of surrounding sinking land with obstacles for nature to hurdle. . . . taking advantage of gravity and ecologies instead of fighting them.

why is it so terrifying to admit that we cannot always be in control of everything?

the condition of the boundary.

my thesis revolves around a consideration for the condition of the threshold. the terms of boundary conditions that architects must face in this contemporary. i am actually saying that, though we attempt to define ourselves by domains and definitions, consistently trying to construct territories, the threshold is actually a condition that doesnt exist. we understand things in relation to other things so the boundaries are not actually there. we tell ourselves they are there to help ourselves feel safe or secure or comfortable or powerful or knowledgeable. . . .etc

within that overarching umbrella, i am dealing with a series of questions and texts.

the tenacious anthology of the mud
- that nature and culture are mutually dependent in the current aesthetic, that the capacity to investigate natural history demands an appreciation of human energies and the creation of continued existence requires an understanding of nature and its forces. that our attempt to provide architectural boundaries denies the fact that we are not in control of defining every aspect of our living conditions and the constructions we are now creating must be more adaptive to the lack of control and reciprocal reliance with the world in which we exist.

the exploratory instrument of territory
- that each new advancing method and tactic for working are mere tools to our constructions and our desire to restrict ourselves to understandable definitions also engenders restriction for design possibilities. each definition, maker, drawer, builder, architect, machinist, theorist, teacher, philosopher, is mere distraction. that the architect must be flexible and willing to learn new practices and transforming conditions in order to exist in the world where the threshold is mere illusion. the methods of representation must be as agile as the architectures we create.

the transmogrification of the vessel
- that we must not attempt to remove ourselves from the societies for which we design, that we cannot consider everything as a means-end relationship by opting out of the struggles of our fellow humans and encouraging a realm where our architectural minds are our own incomprehensible places. to understand that we are not the redeemers of our time, by reducing carbon footprints or generating myths of beauty abstaining from action, distancing ourselves and cleansing ourselves of what we are looking at. that we are, as architects, enablers of ourselves within those communities, with a taste for narrative, detail, diversity, and accident.

obviously, each of these subtexts has their own references but my first draft of my thesis was chaotic and ironically ambiguous and undefined. the relationship of the signified and the signifier within knowledge and articulated domains becomes a part of the condition of the threshold.

bathymetric

on this morning, the sun shines a bright yellow gold and the sky is more blue than the girl has seen throughout her past. the horizon of this mighty water extends forward towards a lifetime, where it is met with the calm, cloudless blue reflected in her eyes. she can hear the melodies of the wayfarer breathing humanity in the foreground and she smiles in the energy of this certain dawning. she listens to his notes and feels them dancing in the breeze, watching the flora sway against the nearby distant shores. once again, she is amused by the way his music feels so close, so physical she can almost touch it, and still so far away, sailing through the epochs of eternity all at once. the waters too radiate the energy of his song, for on this morning, the currents are capped with bright light, a gaiety amongst the sparkling ripples leaping in the splendor of the sun.

the first engagement

as with most things, where there is ambition for occurrences ahead, the girl had become disappointed with her journey. she had created a world of infinite possibilities and the sensuality of the scape to accompany her quest. she was lost in the territory and the endless premonitions which she had fashioned and demanded of herself. she had outlined an attempt and was held in pause, captured by the magnificence of her imagination. the barriers confining the currents -- they seemed to confine her mind as well and to subdue the possibilities buried within her.

in the last gesture of one fertile crescent, the east bank of the river seemed more than a ridge, more than a barrier, and a different exaltation radiated from the plateau. as if from a dream - emanating from this disparity - waves of melody seemed to dance around the stillness of her figure. the sounds stemmed from a common theme, yet articulated careful consideration and ingenuity all at once. her core was pulled to the source of these expressions and she charted her course for the embankment of this riverside.

feeling her weight shift in response to a more solid earth and the grass whisper with her movements, the girl wandered in search of these powerful calls. the breeze moved through swarms of green and became entwined with the dancing melodies, each gust enhancing the expression of life surging in her midst. the music seemed to come from the trees themselves and the great branches reached down to meet the lines of her body, each an open invitation for repose. a feeling of contemplation and meditation encircled the tremendous life gesticulating towards her, the weight of the weariness she had felt on her vessel returned and the girl climbed into the open arms of a particular oak. the pursuit of this deviating song had evoked the tiresome quest for the voice of the river.

the music continued to flow around her and her breath seemed to flux according to its rhythm. she heard the variations in the sounds and they seemed stronger here still, as if carried through each tiny vein, enunciated amongst each bend of the bark. the harmony of varied emotions reverberated in her ear and she perceived subtle vibrations with the aural energies.

within the cradle of an elbow of oak, the blended leaves rustling in their turning over about her balanced form, she slept.

---

upon opening her eyes, still tucked in the prospect of the branch, the girl discerned the artist situated amongst the crevasse reaching out above her. from her perch, she watched the man, his eyes closed as hers had been, and she was absorbed by his capacity for play. he seemed to express a desire with each note, though she could not understand it. she could not define it. she could see the instrument in his hands, yet, the sounds seemed not to emerge from that object at all. each note circulating within his figure, coursing in his veins, surging to the surface, and finally springing from his body through the filter against his lips – each sound expanding amongst the freedom of the vista.

the palpitations of the verdant encasing delivered each harmonious resonation to the arm which held the girl, but she was now supported by more than this earthly structure. his energy and interdependence seemed to revitalize her and she began to climb towards the origins of the melody. she proceeded higher and adjusted herself among him, without ever taking her eyes off his profile. as her posture realigned to the bend of another limb, he too opened his eyes. in that moment, the music stopped.