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“sits in a different dimension from the smooth running, flawlessly attentive, and all but anonymous machine that keeps public order moving so efficiently…”
— from Pico Iyer’s introduction to Natsume Sōseki’s The Gate
We’re back on the grid post Euphoria “dune shack” inhabitation. As predicted, we have much to share. For the Thirty-Six Views project, we will take our time working with the photography and videos produced during our Euphoria inhabitation. In the meantime, we’ve set-up a vimeo channel with 12 “video postcards” from our time at the shack, including a link to our 22 minute kite-borne aerial camera flight.
Still, most of our time in the shack was media-free. Without electricity, daily life quickly winds down around sunset (there’s only so long you can read by headlamp). One camera battery unexpectedly died on day one. iPhone batteries were intentionally preserved for an entire week without charging. We quickly learned to identify dog ticks and deer ticks. Most of the time we just sat on the deck taking in where we were. By the end of seven days, and pretty much four seasons worth of weather change, with temperatures ranging from 45 to 80 degrees F, we realized it had been a rather monumental and fully-lived week.
We noticed how much had changed since our last dune shack week three years ago, perhaps most noticeably our mediated information seeking habits (pre-this blog, pre-twitter etc.). This time around, we noticed we had traded in our addictive relationship to checking the weather online for watching the fully analog and accurate weather vane attached to our clothesline. We didn’t really need much lead time on the weather anyway, since we weren’t going anywhere except where we were. When we sat on the deck staring at clouds, we thought a lot about James Benning’s Looking and Listening class.
Euphoria amenities include a deck, a two burner propane stove, new propane fridge, small kitchen table, bunk bed, two small desks, gravity fed water filter, abundant iron-filled well water, kerosene lamps, small library of books, composting toilet, a stellar Norwegian wood stove (a famed Jøtul), and mid-distance views of the ocean.
While reading a couple of novels and essays on inhabitation that happened to use the word “wherewithal” several times, we found we had unconsciously taken to using the word ourselves. The shack had literally provided a context for being (some)where, with + all. The word “wherewithal” dates to the 1530s and refers to the “means by which.” In our case, Euphoria had become the “means by which” we started to reassess some of our habitual presumptions about inhabiting architectural spaces and the various affordances they provide. We were with the weather—whatever it happened to be from moment to moment. The shack’s “inside” was incredibly porous and responsive to outside. We were with all the changes in light, temperature, mood, possibility and affordance. We were discovering that a human being needs around one gallon of water per shower and toilets don’t need to be loud and full of water. We were realizing how often we don’t need artificial light while indoors. And we realized how much easier it is to follow and keep a train of thought when we don’t get interrupted by voices, traffic sounds, media or distractions (self-inflicted or otherwise). A difficult truth to accept was that we missed a lot when we were “on the grid.” As we design lives and spaces that distract or literally shield us from what’s immediately happening around us, we miss navigating and meeting the charged and specific forces that shape our lives from moment to moment. We are all to0 ready to (dis)locate our brains and awarenesses to spaces and times other than where we actually are. Lacking lived experiences of “wherewithal,” we suspect, makes it possible to take the grid for granted despite resource/material challenges humans currently face, and to imagine that it will run on and even grow limitlessly.
Euphoria is a very simple architectural space that assisted us in realizing where we were. Designed specifically for navigating the forces that make its particular location, it gave us an experimental expanse to reside within, and filled it with concerns and interests other than those that preoccupy us elsewhere.
A week after leaving Euphoria, as we looked at the ocean from a car in a parking lot, it seemed as though we weren’t really seeing the same body of water we saw from the shack’s deck. The car didn’t push us to feel the forces of the place. We had to accept the fact that the unfortunate grid-afforded sensation of looking in at the world from somewhere “outside” of it was slowly returning.
Architecturally minded readers might want to check-out the Cape Cod Modern House Trust, which is currently facilitating an ambitious project called Add On’13. The project aims to prototype and build affordable and sustainable structures on the Cape in the very near future. The project takes inspiration from the spirit of the experimental architects who came to Cape in 1950s (such as Walter Gropius and Marcel Breuer) and built modernist elaborations of the Provincelands dune shacks. Their projects became, in the words of the Trust, “manifestos of their designers’ philosophy and way of living, close to nature, immersed in art and seeking community.”
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