These photographs are from the Cambridge-Somerville area in Massachusetts, a mile away from where one of the Boston bombers lived.
I lived in this area for a year as an international student from India and unknowingly shared a temporal and physical landscape with Tamerlan Tsarnaev. But did I also share a mental landscape?
I too was an immigrant there. I too was a student. I too felt alienated at times, and did not always comprehend my surroundings. These photographs were my attempt to come to terms with my environment. Unfortunately Tamerlan chose a different form of self-expression.
By acknowledging that we had something in common, however fleeting, I now hope to make some sense of the incomprehensible destruction in a place that eventually became very dear to me – a place that will always remain a second home.
A photograph I shot was on the cover of this month’s issue of Domus India (March, 2013).
I had shot this at 400 ISO with my Nikon D 7000, and what was published was a fairly tight crop of the original image (below). Another, less cropped version of the same photograph also appeared in the article on the Museum of Tribal Heritage in Bhopal designed by Kamath Design Studio in the same issue.
It must have taken some very skilled raw editing to get an acceptable cover image out of something shot with what is essentially an amateur camera at what is not a low ISO setting. This is definitely not something I’ve been able to achieve with the Nikon ViewNX2 software that comes bundled with the camera. Since a majority of the photographs featured in the article were shot by me with this camera, I think I might be better off investing in a good raw converter instead of a Nikon D600 which I have been eyeing ever since its release.
My camera geekiness aside, this article on the Museum in Domus has given me a lot to think about, both as an architect closely involved with the design of the building, and as the photographer who shot most of the images seen of the building. But before I go further, I must confess that I have not yet read anything by Susan Sontag, not read On Photography, nor read anything else of significance on the role of photography in architecture and the media. What I write here is a lay person’s opinion based on a single experience –
I had started working on the Museum of Tribal Heritage when I was still doing my bachelor’s degree in architecture. It was very exciting to be working on this project because it was the first time I was applying my newly acquired knowledge of architecture in a professional setting. Preparing a setting-out plan of the complex, interlinked circular and rectilinear shapes taught me the need for accuracy and discipline in drafting and dimensioning a drawing.
I was also responsible for preparing a 3D model of the building which was used in presentations and discussions with the various stakeholders in the project.
Despite being involved in the project from its outset, I was not able to travel from Delhi (where I was studying) to the site in Bhopal until after I finished college some two years later. But when I did visit the site, it was quite amazing to see the actual building. What made this experience especially surreal was the fact that the site engineer drove us in his car straight into what was the main visitor’s (pedestrian) circulation spine of the museum. The building was bigger than I had imagined. And yet, when I got out of the car and walked around, it seemed to have a very human scale – a scale of a village street, not the scale one usually associates with a museum building.
After walking around the building, I soon got my bearings and started observing deviations from the plan and defects in construction, like any architect would. The building eventually took over five years and many more site visits to build, and the museum is still to formally open as of March, 2013.
When we were contacted by Domus India about their wanting to feature the project in their magazine, we were very excited by the idea. Like most architectural publications around the world today, the team at Domus asked us, as the architects of the building, to provide them with images for the article. What we gave them was a photographic “walk-through” of the building with details of where in the building each photograph was shot from, and what the photograph showed. Other than basic project drawings, this was all the information on the project that the Mumbai-based team writing the article had. Even as someone so closely involved with the design, having prepared its setting out plan and 3D model; actually experiencing the building physically and spatially gave me a completely new perspective on its design. I was therefore fascinated by the article on the Museum that appeared in Domus titled “Debating Tactile Engagements” when no one from the magazine had seen the building other than through the photographic images we had supplied them. The article goes on to talk about the scale of the building, the delicacy of the steel structure supporting large spans, the way the building negotiates the terrain of the site and engages with the local climate. It is understandable that time and financial constraints make it impossible for every architectural critic to visit every building they write about. But as an architect who respects the opinions of serious critics of design, it makes me wonder if I should design for the user or design for the camera in an age where pixels are equal to perception, where bits can travel across the planet but bricks stubbornly stay rooted in walls, where ones geographic location is immaterial but “ecological footprint” is supposed to matter, where global weather data is available at a keystroke but the sound of subtly directed rain water is lost in the din of esoteric discussions on design philosophy.
It has been a long time since I have done anything photographic that I felt like posting, my last time being this post over two years ago.
A few days ago a friend of mine pointed me to this article about a set of images juxtaposing archival photographs from World War II with identical images shot in the same locations today. I found the idea very interesting and my mind began to speculate how the same people in the same situation may have behaved in the same space today and I wished the people from the archival photographs would somehow engage with the contemporary spaces in a more direct way.
Turning the idea around, I began to think about some photographs I had taken at Lodhi Gardens last month. Here were contemporary people interacting with relics from the past. What if the spaces of the past could mould themselves around the actions of these contemporary individuals? I have posted the images resulting from these speculations in this set on Flickr.
Cities are full of writing – graffiti, billboards, road signs. This writing has been written by people to communicate with others. In addition to the message of the text itself, these pieces of writing also communicate a second layer of meaning by virtue of their location and setting. The interactions between these layers of meaning may reinforce each other, contradict each other or influence each other in other ways to create deeper layers of meaning or unravel the layers that make them up. This set of photographs explores these interactions in the city of Los Angeles.
This blog is a record of my work in design and photography. The term postScript reflects my belief that the ultimate expression of my design work must be physical. My primary interest is to explore the interplay between the mental, the computational and the physical dimensions of design. Though not directly related to my design work, I use photography as a means of spontaneous observation of the social, environmental and aesthetic contexts that I find myself in.