places and films

Pallasmaa, J ‘Six Themes for the Next Millennium’
Experiencing a building is not only a matter of looking at its spaces, forms and surfaces – it is also a matter of listening to its characteristic silence. And every great architectural work has its unique silence. […] The innate silence of an experience of architecture results, it seems, from the fact that it turns our attention to our own existence – I find myself listening to my own being.

 […] architecture that […] aims at lyricising the real things of everyday life.

Pallasmaa, J (2003) ‘New Architectural Horizons’ adapted from a lecture at ACSA International Conference in Helsinki, August 2003
[…B]oth architecture and cinema articulate lived space […] In the same way that buildings and cities create and preserve images of culture and particular ways of life, cinema projects the cultural archaeology of both the time of its making and the era that it depicts.

[…] Artistic works originate in the body of the maker and they return back to the human body as they are being experienced.

Zumthor, P (1988) Works Zurich: Lars Muller
What I am designing will be part of the place, part of its surroundings, that it will be used and loved, discovered and bequeathed, given away and abandoned, and perhaps even hated – in short, that it will be lived in, in the widest sense. […] Heidegger observed that our thinking, as abstract as it may seem, is closely connected with our experience of place […M]an exists in places […] it is from places that he forms his relationships with the world […] Thus, the thought process is not abstract but works with spatial images. It has sensuous components. It uses the images of places and spaces to which we have access, which we remember. […] I regard the store of personal and collective experiences of dwelling, of having been in places and spaces that we have stored in our bodies, as the fertile ground and starting point of my work. […T]he quest for the new object I shall design and build consists largely of reflection upon the way that we really experience the many places of our so different dwellings throughout the world – in a forest, on a bridge, in a town square, in a house, in a room, in my room, in summer, in the morning, at twilight, in the rain. I hear the sounds of cars moving outside, the voices of the birds, and the steps of the passers by. I see the rusty metal of the door, the blue of the hills in the background, the shimmer of the air over the asphalt. I feel the warmth reflected by the wall behind me. The curtains in the slender window recess move gently in the breeze, and the air smells damp from yesterday’s rain, preserved by the soil in the plant troughs. Everything I see, the cement slabs that hold the earth, the wires of the trellis, the chiselled balusters on the terrace, the plastered arch over the passageway – they all show traces of wear, of use, and of dwelling. And when I look more carefully, the things I see start to tell me something about why, how and for what purpose they were all made.