Part road-movie, part fictional distillation of a life in architecture: Rear View is a six-part experimental column by Jing Liu, architect and co-founder of the Brooklyn-based design firm SO-IL. The subjects and spaces described in these little journeys move between the poetic and banal; along the way, we are asked to consider what we find en route as well as everything we bring with us. For the fifth episode, Jing Liu transcends the cauldron of contested claims across campus protests, framing architecture’s ultimate challenge as producing the means to imagine forms of cohabitation.
The whole thing feels like it’s rigged sometimes.
“Administration has gone to the other side,” someone says. White paper rolls covered with words written in thick black markers spread on the lawn: Justice, Resources, Voices, Freedom, Liberation. Representation. Racism…
“If capitalism is our enemy, then there is no scenario of winning,” someone else says.
On one end of the quad, a monumental stair leads up to a neoclassical building clad in beige Indiana limestone. A makeshift accessible ramp is grafted onto its side; the galvanized steel pipes and perforated decks emit a dulled shine against the muteness of the limestone. On the middle landing, where the ramp catches up to meet a stone border at bench height, gathers a group of skaters. One of them, in a bright, multi-colored nylon jacket, drops her board and steps on. Her left leg dangles off the board and with ease, pushes forward. The board glides in a stillness underscored by movement. Like celestial bodies bond in one constellation, the skater, her board, and its wheels embark on their journey together.
“The stock market will give; the indexes will give; and the betting and hedging will give. So take good care of yourself. Dream of habitation without extractions in the age of interplanetary travel.”
With measures, the skater lowers herself into the board. At the nadir of the compression, her body springs up, pulling the board upward with her. In the space opened up between the skater and the ground, the board takes a glorious flight. It flips upside down and up again before landing back on its wheels. The skater follows almost simultaneously, reuniting with her board after their shared flight.
“Not quite so,” the traveler says to the students spread out on the lawn. “Capitalism will not persist. It will give eventually, for the simple reason that change is the only constant. The stock market will give; the indexes will give; and the betting and hedging will give. So take good care of yourself. Dream of habitation without extractions in the age of interplanetary travel.”
A pigeon takes its flight from the neoclassical building's apex, effortlessly drawing a wide double curve in midair before softly and precisely landing on the stone border, where some pizza crust is left unattended.
“Interplanetary travel?” Someone asks.
“Yes, Interplanetary travel.” The traveler starts to sketch on the white paper: Mars, the moon, Jupiter… “Interplanetary expansion will bring about the biggest material and energy transformation we've known. The journey there will impel us to raise a host of humans and march them great distances. It will impede them in their life and further drain the resources of this planet. The arms race has already begun. Interplanetary expansion in the age of artificial intelligence and quantum physics will call on angels to descend from heaven and Prometheus to rise from hell.”
In 2017, for the second edition of the Chicago Architecture Biennial – Making New History, we collaborated with artist Ana Prvački and composer Veronika Krausas to debut a special performance titled L’air Pour L’air. Against the lush backdrop of the Garfield Park Conservatory, we created an ensemble of enclosures made from air-filtering mesh that cleaned the air through breathing for the musicians – flutist, trombone and saxophone players and vocalist – all requiring air to produce music. The performance, and the shelters, asked us to imagine what existence might look like when the environment continues to deteriorate, and expressed the imminent, difficult fate of culture in such a reality.
“What does that have to do with architecture?” They ask.
“What is architecture if not the art of cohabitation with what’s alien to and outside of ourselves?” The traveler explains. “Architectural imaginaries presuppose subjects and their cohabitants, their rituals, their hopes and communality. They are not merely forms, but underscored by material realities organizing and reorganizing energy, labor, territories, and potentialities. So, can you build a home for Shelley’s Creature at the edge of the known world? Can you bring love and care to abandonment, instead of upsetting ecologies? Can you show up, create together, and leave behind, taking nothing with you?”
“What is architecture if not the art of cohabitation with what’s alien to and outside of ourselves?” The traveler explains.
“We Keep Us Safe”, “Resist”. Chants break out from the center of the quad, echoing and amplifying within the confines of the surrounding buildings. The pigeon has gone, taken flight elsewhere. The skater in the colorful jacket has picked up her board and is now watching her friend taking his flight. These students camped out on the quad too, will one day walk out of this campus, this city, and this time. They too, will take glorious flights and be reunited with this place anew.
Bio
Jing Liu is an architect in practice; as co-founder of the New York-based architecture firm SO-IL, she has working on a wide range of projects both in the US and abroad for more than 15 years. Liu has led SO–IL in the engagement with the socio-political issues of contemporary cities. She brings an intellectually open, globally aware, and locally sensitive perspective to architecture; projects range from artistic collaborations with contemporary choreographers to masterplan and major public realm design. Liu believes strongly that design should and can be accessible to all, and that architecture offers us an open platform to nurture new forms of interaction. To that end, Liu sees community engagement and collaboration across disciplines as central to her role as the design lead.
