Java.Mar.2016

from the 1920s—a community that never existed—
basically all lies. Tactical Urbanism is a catch phrase
referring to many different attempts by architects
over the last 10 years to help people take action to
make their own communities better.
One group that I worked with on a book project was
Urban-Think Tank. They got their start in Caracas,
Venezuela, driving around with a car tape saying,
“We’re architects. What do you need? We’re here to
help.” They got very involved with the favelas over
there, working on various projects—small additions
to open up closed parts of the city—interventions.
Often the trick is to figure out what is the minimum
that you can do to create an impact—guerilla
landscaping, for example, like planting flowers on
vacant lands.
You were trained as an architect but are known
as more of a critic and curator. Do you practice
architecture?
I pretend (laughs). Yes, I entered a competition in
Taiwan last year. Didn’t win. I’ve done many things:
practiced architecture, worked as a curator, critic,
professor, assembled books and was the director of
an art museum. I have many different perspectives.
10 JAVA
MAGAZINE
What inspired you to study architecture in the
first place?
I spent a part of my childhood in the Netherlands,
and a visit to the Schröder House [by Gerrit Rietveld]
really opened my eyes. Other than being just an
absolutely gorgeous structure, it was designed to be
a model for a new way of living.
This house was not just a standing container that
defined and confined daily life, but a place that
opened up possibilities, activating relationships
with people. All the walls moved around—it could
be turned into one large room where everyone was
together or it could be four rooms, three rooms,
two rooms, each with a particular character and
function. Not only would the walls move but various
parts of the floor and ceiling would fold out to make
furniture. Then the whole thing could be opened up
to the outside, so there was this continuity with the
landscape.
It was at the end of a series of row houses that were
very proper and covered with brick. The Schröder
House looked like it was made from the bones of the
buildings next to it. It was an incredibly optimistic
statement about modernity and architecture’s ability
to build a new world. Over the years, we’ve lost
that optimism—not just in architecture but also in
painting, literature and obviously politics.
I first discovered your writings in grad school
while researching Deconstructivism, which
used the visual cues of Constructivism seen in
the Schröder House.
In the late 1980s there was a look back at some of
the first modernist forms—to unearth and reactivate
them in some way by contradicting them. Not
pretending that we can still mindlessly build this
better world. Realizing the inherent contradiction
of intents and in the structures themselves. That
was really a large part of what became known as
Deconstructivism.
What about the challenges of desert cities?
Frank Lloyd Wright had certain strategies at
Taliesin West.
The inhabitants of Phoenix have been dealing
with the desert for thousands of years and have
developed some pretty good solutions—and some
very bad ones. The Hohokam made environments that
used what this place had to offer. Interesting early