Archiset
the power of components
the so-called simple building
the reproduction of the archaic
intelligent modules
Theso-called Letraset is a set of letters of a certain character that can be put together as desired. My "archiset" was intended to transfer this concept to architecture. By means of a limited number of coordinated floor plan elements, it should be possible to create coherent and functional spatial sequences. This was linked to the conviction that the apparent diversity of architectural floor plan layouts in residential construction can be reduced to a puzzle of floor plan elements. These floor plan modules (such as kitchens, wetrooms, room partitions, built-in furniture) were to be reduced to stereotypical templates. Such approaches were provocative for architects in the 80ies who believed in the unique character of their work. On the other hand, catalogue houses in 19th century, American timber constructions or neighbourhood developments of the early 20th century show that intelligent modular architecture can result in remarkable architectural and urban qualities. However, studies of modular architecture also reveal how much our so-called functional architecture clings to standards that have less to do with real needs and daily routines than with fashionable ideas of living.
For me, the bikes I grew up with epitomise intelligent design. Almost all essential components from different manufacturers and standards could be mounted on a structurally optimised, triangular tubular frame with reinforced sockets and standardised tube diameters. This allowed to adapt the vehicle to your own needs, repair it or recycle it in whole or in part. Today's electric bikes incorporate special forms of batteries and drive elements into brand-specific frame designs and can hardly be propelled by human power due to their great weight. In Haussmann's time the façade elements of entire streets, nowadays much admired, were based on standardised components. Modern architecture and our time have found it difficult to come to terms with modularity. Today, there is no longer a consensus that an entire row of houses should emerge from a spatial-structural regularity in order to form a neighbourhood. This contributes to the fact, that newly-build neighbourhoods often lack the calming formal identity of entire streets and districts.
How much mostly toxic and unusable rubble would be left behind if some of today's much-publicised buildings were to be demolished. When children let their "dreamcastle", piled up with simple building blocks, collapse, they only do so in order to rebuild an even more beautiful one with the same blocks. The unlimited reusability of building blocks thus represents the ideal case of cyclical architecture. The built reality is of course much more complex.
Why do we always have to build "for eternity"? Why not explore needs and possibilities with reversible pioneer developments and allow development schemes to prove themselves? How many residual areas or unused sites could be temporarily occupied? Shouldn't our cities remain porous? The on going"inner densification" is plugging the last gaps and thus opportunities for adaptive urban development. Why are we afraid of temporary solutions? Many have become valued "provisional solutions". In these times of rapid change, technological development and human mobility there is agreat need for transient architecture that can be dismantled at short notice and reused, leaving a minimal footprint.
Such considerations led me to studies on small-cell housing for living and working, micro-living and livin studios, and finally to building with modules in the form of containers. But we are all familiar with the shapeless ugliness of standard containerised housing estates. In addition, it is impossible to satisfactorily accommodate the living and working functions of a residential unit in the dimensions of a 250 cm wide roadtransport container, because critical interior dimensions must be undercut. As my modular housing for living and working remains at the same location for years, I concentrated on modular elements that can be moved by means of special transport, stacked up to 4 storeys high and can also be dismantled. With external dimensions of 3 x 3 x 12 metres, they can be moved on the road in the medium term and installed using mobile cranes. In addition to the modules, the prefabricated construction kit also includes special elements for external balconies, access and staircase elements, as well as textile roof and shading elements. However, the modular box consists of a frame in which the various componend parts, such as windows, floors, doors and walls, can be plugged in. The modular boxes can be stacked and positioned in various ways to create exciting architecture with differentiated open spaces. Longitudinal and transverse positions, offsets and projections, and the targeted arrangement of views allow for varied building clusters with courtyards. These habitats fit in different sites and are oriented towards the community. For larger utilisation units, several modules are linked together.
An invitation to take part in the Architecture Biennale 21 prompted me to bundle these considerations into a contribution. I was able to build on an earlier competition entry for the recolonisation of the abandoned island of Poveglia. But in the Biennale contribution I was looking for a reversible pioneer development with a minimal permanent footprint. The built intervention is limited to utility connections, screw piles for the foundations and the provision of appropriate access options enhanced by the possibilities of electric mobility. These conceptual ideas for the Biennale were also aimed at the temporary occupation of urban remnants or land for future construction, emergency shelters or temporary research stations in nature. The latter were intended to be self-sufficient and environmentally friendly thanks to their incinerating toilets, rainwater tanks and solar panels. I would like to take up this idea of the largely self-sufficient modular living and working cell, which has been forgotten since Peter Cook's "Archigram", in today's context and examine its broad application.
However, we can no longer return to medieval craftsmanship in construction. But neither the habitable plastic bubbles and flex tubes of Archigram nor the piled-up cellular structures of the Japanese metabolists will get us any further. Instead, we need intelligent components and modules that are limited to the essentials, which can be produced economically and ecologically with our current technical means from regionally available materials in manageable and adaptable series in workshops, and which can be reused to a large extent. To achieve this, we would need more differentiated urban development strategies that don’t just build over the last land reserve, but experiment with transitional uses so that future generations can decide on their final fate in due course.
