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Tangible . Intangible

April 04, 2025
 Although I grew up in a middle-class family in a developing country, I have seen and lived in various living conditions and cultures- from high-society luxury apartments to low-cost mud wall houses, however short those periods might have been. I have slept on a $500 bed in a highly air-conditioned, pricy hotel room and on the cold, dirty floor of a poorly maintained public hospital on a winter night without heating. I studied at the country's most prestigious undergraduate university while starting a not-so-well-known primary school in an almost remote village. I worked in a prestigious architectural firm on a 40-story commercial high-rise design project for a wealthy client in a cozy office with high-end computers; on the other hand, I also worked as a carpet cleaner, wearing dirty clothes and mopping under a local business, for minimum wage to support my family. All these extremes and diverse life experiences have shaped my view of people, culture, and the power of community.

But the thing that motivates me the most in building myself as a designer who works with people as their friend is my newfound understanding of my religion, Islam. It has been only six years since I started diving into the ideology of the religion I was born into, but never thought about deeply. Certain life-altering events, health conditions, and occasionally more profound thoughts about my purpose as a human, living, breathing, tasting, and enjoying this ephemeral worldly life, solidified a vision of the kind of person I want to be, the kind of designer I need to be. The rituals started to link so beautifully with the understandings behind them that I see the world around me through a whole new lens, much clearer than ever.

In Islam, every creation has a purpose. We, as humans, are placed in the highest place of all creations, and we are given something that no other creation was gifted with- our intellect and empathy. These two sides of the coin decide our path in this world and the next- leaning into only one direction makes us lose our humanity. Making strictly calculative decisions while leaving empathy makes us soulless, while the opposite extreme makes us ignorant. We are supposed to take the middle path, mainly when we are tasked with handling tangible resources (like materials, money, land, etc.)  and intangible resources (culture, norms, values, emotions, etc.). As designers, our work is way more important than anyone else, as the stakes are on par with some professions (like doctors, lawyers, etc.) and even higher than others. We are the people who are influenced by the context and also influence the context. Contrary to mass-spread belief, my religious ideology does not conflict with other ideologies, as it allows individuals to have their own freedom. To work with a community, we designers need to be part of it. A community is diverse, with a range of beliefs and philosophies. As public interest designers, we consider all the stakeholders (including ourselves) and make decisions based on compromise, compassion, and collaboration. Conflicting issues can be resolved through mutual discussion and evidence-based calculations, enabling stakeholders to take ownership of the final product.

My journey in NC State University’s Master's in Architecture program began with two not-so-mutually-exclusive pursuits: a specialization in Energy and Technology in Architecture and in Public Interest Design. We live in a fast-paced world where technology, climate, and culture are shaped based on global, diverse decisions. Our language is being shaped by social media exposure, and now, with the rise of AI, we can assume that culture and norms will take a drastic turn, either for better or worse. It is our duty as designers to guide this change in a positive direction, and we cannot do so without specializing in both sides of the coin. The Energy and Technology specialization works as the tangible, intellectual, and calculative side of my architecture philosophy. In contrast, the Public Interest Design specialization will teach me the intangible side of architecture, where empathy also guides good design.

My ideologies grounded in religion may raise conflicts of interest in some communities (like secular or diverse spaces) where I might work in the future, but there are solutions to these issues. Using communication as a medium of education, not preaching, can clarify my stance as a designer for the community. Secular spaces can be beautiful examples of ideologies coming together as a community. As a graduate student at NC State University, I collaborate with my groupmates on various projects and successfully apply my philosophy and ideology without disclosing my religious background. Practicing self-reflection and self-care as a part of my design process also helps prevent emotional burnout. Another method to follow is giving and celebrating everyone’s voice in the participatory process- acknowledging their initial ideas with respect and then elevating that same thought with personal expertise can create value for the opinion that people share.



    

Kengo Kuma: A Monologue of Architectural Ideology

September 02, 2024


A reaction to Kengo Kuma’s text excerpt from ‘Kuma. Complete Works 1988 - Today’
by Kengo Kuma and Philip Jodido, published by Taschen.
In the selected excerpt, Architect Kengo Kuma talks about how his architectural ideology changed from the 20th-century architecture of large and tall buildings to small and flexible structures using vernacular materials and local craftsmanship and presents substantial arguments for his views.


Kuma’s childhood inspiration, the massive Yoyogi National Stadium by architect Kenzo Tange, moved him to pursue architecture as his profession. However, his perspective on tall and big architecture changed as pollution emerged in Japan and people's perceptions of massive buildings took a downturn. Moreover, his experience with big city projects compelled him to travel searching for alternative building solutions. Soon he realized the appeal of vernacular architecture.


The architect acquired a wealth of knowledge about natural materials by working with the persevering local craftsmen, untaught in schools. This unique, rewarding experience expanded his scope of travel to Asia, Europe, and America. He realized that architecture is not bound by a country, rather it is the material, place, and people who dictate how the structure finds its meaning.
Kuma’s mission and obligation as someone who lived in two contrasting ages was to look in the opposite direction of modern architectural thinking. A gentle connection between nature and people could not be achieved with industrially processed materials, rather it can be established by using materials found in nature while solving environmental problems. He designed the Olympic stadium as a cloud made of wood- a weak, soft, and humble material that makes people feel at ease, as it blended with the nearby park becoming one with the forest. His later projects also reflected the same idea , horizontal and diagonal elements nesting close to the ground, and minimum use of vertical elements made the spaces accommodate various activities and lifestyles.


With limited resources and lands available in the current era, Kuma’s ideology resonates deeply with cultural and environmental conservancy. As the world becomes smaller, it is crucial to preserve the heritage of the localities through vernacular architecture.



    

The Norwegian National Opera House: Snohetta’s Language of Architecture

September 09, 2024


A reflection to Architect Craig Dyker’s presentation of the Oslo Opera House, identifying the firm’s design principles.
 Craig Dyker presents an eclectic design strategy for Snøhetta’s design of the Norwegian National Opera House at Oslo in the selected talk that reflects an intricate focus on the history of the site and people and a careful execution of their architectural expression.


As the city has been anticipating an opera house for over a century, the sense of connection and ownership plays a vital role in the design concept. Snøhetta’s vision of the prompt ‘monument’ is a bit different- a city-facing social monument that one can participate in and with. Although very few people go to an opera house, the notion that it’s there makes it a part of ‘the city of imagination.’ Moreover, ownership makes something so familiar that the owner’s eyes can look past it instead of at it, which was the idea for the publicly accessible plaza and making the building as low as it could be. The inclined roof, which creates a transformative journey through planes, is inspired by the Norwegian landscape- open and folded snow that is cold, dry, and hard, also making a pedestrian link between the touchable water shoreline and the untouchable sky. Even the pattern on the aluminum cladding on the stage tower was inspired by the traditional weaving pattern of Norwegian sweaters, which subconsciously resonates with the people. The enormous participation of the local people on the first day it was opened to the public before the inauguration speaks volumes of the design’s success.
This surprising approval could also reflect the firm’s ideology of the primitive use of material and respecting tradition and field experts. A straightforward palate of material is used- glass, wood, and stone, with minimum to no support of other materials. Although foreign, Italian marble was used, like it was used in the birthplace of opera. The architect also respected the 600 years of developed horseshoe shape for the Opera room by not reinventing it and keeping his touch by using laminated monolithic oak, just like the body of a musical instrument. For the random oak patterns in the lobby to achieve better acoustics, the architect took help from mentally challenged children who are best at randomness. Expert artists designed the toilet façade and the stage curtain, and an acoustic engineer drew the shapes of the opera room railing- which was executed precisely as drawn.


Another focus of this project is defining formal identity. The machinelike functional office space contrasts with the sculptural public space- it almost feels like two different architects with different philosophies came together to design the project yet blend the spaces harmoniously.
An inherent sense of connection, ascension through planes, establishing truth of materials, a humble appreciation of history and craft, and a unique expression of form- make the Norwegian Opera House one of Snøhetta’s masterpiece projects.