The Externalized Brain
From the primitive ages, the human body has been linked with nature as a member in which water and air circulate. People today are equipped with an electronic body in which information circulates, and are thus linked to the world through a network of information by means of this other body. This virtual body of electron flow is drastically changing the mode of communication, while the primitive body still craves beautiful light and wind. The biggest challenge for us is how we can integrate these two types of body. The same applies to architecture today. The question is how to integrate the primitive space and the virtual space. People, when clad in a mechanical suit called an automobile, have their physical bodies expanded. People clad in a media suit have their brain expanded. Architecture as media suit is the externalized brain – Toyo Ito
*(From album inlay for SYSTEMS/LAYERS by Rachel’s)
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Restless
Last night
was one of those nights
When the demons creep
through the hollow of your bones
To mine your marrow
and toy with your strings;
making your muscles dance, like puppets
waltzing, on and on
in neverending circles
across a lonely theatre stage
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The Apartment Series
After Dark Spilled Paint City of Flowers
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Yamakasa At Daybreak
Five thirty am and daylight finally penetrated the heavy cloud, conjuring a misty grey morning. The typhoon hit Fukuoka that night; rain pounded the streets and unpredictable winds threatened the decency of the city’s many skirt clad youth. But we hardly noticed. Tucked up as we were in our karaoke booth, our little womb; with only a phoneline connecting us to the outside world and the promise of more beer. Friends sharing their last few weeks in Japan together, strengthening their bonds and building new ones.
We emerged, still dark – we headed for downtown and a good spot to catch the festival – the Yamakasa – Fukuoka’s equivalent of Pamplona’s Bull Run. Teams of men shouldering two tonne shrines in a race through the city streets in honour of Buddha, while crowds of thousands gather to urge them on. Clutching beers and soaked through we watched the darkness melt and the streets fill and throng with festival goers. We were part of it, we were all together – fewer moments in life are more beautiful.
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Grief is a marathon runner. It does not sprint to the finish, for it has no goal. No end in sight. Strung out, nagging. Never lessening so much as just less often. It is both unwanted companion and cold comfort – an emptiness that engulfs a void. A deep cut, then a dull, aching bruise, slowly turning yellow from black. Time further dulls the ache, and perhaps the scar becomes a wrinkle. Though the body repairs, it never forgets – the wrinkle merely a brave face. If you feel devasted and empty when someone is gone – they were worth keeping. And when that someone was this someone – she will in time turn your grief to reassurance: she is the nagging in you. And she is telling you to keep going.
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Part One: Bad Dreams
In my sleep I fell cities. Heart broken and raging – rabid and wounded – I tear concrete slab from concrete slab; peeling back the asphalt layer to get at the burning heat of the Earth, where there must be answers.
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STELLA!
Bringing the colour is Stella: a Jewish party girl who loves quips from Woody Allen films and sings like a dream. She is also the alter ego of a beautiful person here on Earth…
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