We all have to design one object for Peecha kucha and talk about its what, why and how.  I think this is a good brain stroming session to get going into the unit 1, where we polish our foundation ones again for the longer term. 

For the symposium 1 I decided to go ahead with a pencil stand. Moving to another country that too continents far away is tought, and on top of it not having a object to hold your stuff is messy. I realised that my desk in the accommodation I live is always cramped up and messy and the reason for that is, all my pens, pencils and markers are haywire, rolling, sliding to the tables ends.

This is my problem and the solution for it - a need for object to hold my belongings. I think design is born out of societal needs. I am  pointing at the idea that design doesn’t evolve in a vacuum. It responds to forces in society that eventually push it to take a critical turn — a shift where design questions its own role, methods, and assumptions.

As a designer-maker at UAL, my goal is to establish a certain framework, rules and pricipals around which my design resonates. Eventually by the end of Unit 3, I am keen on exploring and having fun designing an object that plays around light, that revolves around these factors, and also have a sense of context, surrounding, play and affords some detail towards human interaction. Creating a framework for your actions is fundamental.

When creating an object, spatial thinking can help. It provides a definition for the object's existence. Additionally, while I consider its existence, I must consider its form, details, aesthetics, and how it will feel and look. There will undoubtedly be hundreds of iterations, but someday, it will really get to someone.

I became aware of an unintentional connection between the 100 pieces as I was creating them. Each of them has a distinct typology of materials, rules, details, and forms.
Items from the flea market, such as study lamps and side lamps from the Bauhaus era, also discussed typologies.

We also went to a Japan house to see how skilled the Japanese are at creating visual languages and signs that communicate without the use of words. strong, minimalist, and uncomplicated design concepts.

As I proceeded, I also wanted to investigate the quality of brutalism. What is brutalism, and how can an object be cruel in and of itself? Is that the form? The substance? Or something else. Here my main focus is the details. The detail speaks for an object. How well it is crafted and how well it is executed. The detail holds onto the entire object and subtly merges with the overall form. For me brutalism is the dominance of a major material and its details. Revolving around this form, I moved ahead with making my objects. I explored different scales. Wall sconces, lamps and even miniature furniture. - what my objective was to understand and feel material that i am working with, so by the end of unit 1  i can have a full understanding of that material, its forces and nature.

For my design, I chose to cut all four vertical sides at a 45° angle to create clean, sharp edges for a more refined look. I added small 3D-printed joints that were precisely channelled into the wood using a machine, ensuring a neat fit. For the base, I used a piece of plywood — its texture and depth complemented the overall design. Finally, I drilled holes and assembled the pieces securely, completing a simple yet well-detailed box.

Then we had our foundry workshop where we learned how to use an object and make a sand cast of it, and then pour liquid aluminium. For the first ste,p we need to fill up the base of the cast with old sand. And then, where the object is going to be placed, we filled it with new sand. The reason is that the new sand it much softer and porous, and can take the detail nicely.

After that, we submerged the object half into the new sand and repeated the same process on the other part of the cast. We used talcum powder so the object doesn't stick to the sand or the base. We then carved out channels to let liquid aluminium in and another channel to let the gas pass out. Hopefully, we will see the results next week.

I chose DU_829 (a kitchen whisk) and DU_405 (an anemometer). What drew me to the kitchen whisk was the way the metal wires intersect with the wooden handle, creating a thoughtful and balanced design. I also found the curved top particularly engaging—it doesn’t feel rigid or lifeless but instead has a flowing, curtain-like quality that gives the object a sense of movement and liveliness.

In contrast, the anemometer stood out to me for its brutal, industrial form. The metallic shine gives it a strong, almost brutalist quality, while the central rotating cone, designed to catch the wind, has a more rustic and mechanical character. I also found the structure of its legs particularly interesting—they add to the overall balance and visual strength of the object.

While exploring these objects and thinking about how to develop my own design concept, I’ve been referring to the book 1000 Design Classics. It showcases a wide range of objects of different scales and purposes, spanning from the postmodern era to the industrial age and into modern and contemporary design.

What I’m trying to focus on is the connection between the collection and my conceptual idea—essentially asking, where do they intersect? I’m interested in exploring that grey area where the two meet, a space that allows for experimentation, playfulness, and discovery within my design process.

The list I created is based on how these designers influenced material use and form, particularly in relation to brutalist and maximalist aesthetics. I was drawn to how their designs balance structure, function, and expressive form.

The selected pieces include:

• Fortuny Moda Lamp (1903)

• Sitzmaschine (1905)

• BMW R32 (1923)

• Bibendum Chair (1925–26)

• Wassily Chair (1925)

• Potence Lamp (c. 1945)

• Akari Pod Lamp & Light Sculpture (1951)

• Toio Lamp (1962)

• Falkland Lamp (1964)

• Parentesi Lamp (1971)

• Lucellino Lamp (1992)

Each of these designs stands out for its material honesty, sculptural form, and the way it challenges conventional ideas of beauty and function.

Brutalism in design is about exposing the substrate—revealing the structure, materiality, and raw construction of an object. It values honesty in materials and form, allowing the process of making to remain visible rather than concealed.

Maximalism, on the other hand, is about manipulating the surface—embracing rich textures, sensory detail, and visual abundance. It celebrates decoration, layering, and the expressive qualities of material finishes.

A hybrid approach emerges when the substrate amplifies the truth of the surface, rather than hiding it. In this space, the raw and the refined coexist—the structure becomes part of the ornament, and the surface becomes an extension of the material’s inherent character.

Also week’s lecture, “What Are Stories?”, explored how narrative, conversation, and memory connect to the objects and environments around us. Drawing on ideas from material culture and anthropology, we discussed how everyday objects can hold emotional and cultural meanings. A reference to The Comfort of Things highlighted how our possessions reflect identity and memory.

We examined how stories are intrinsic to design, as every object communicates through its form, material, and function. In branding, a brand itself becomes a narrative, shaping perception and experience. The lecture also raised an important question: How can design ensure that the essence of a story reaches its audience, even as it evolves?

We were encouraged to explore speculative design, blending fiction, narrative, and imagination to create new possibilities. Finally, we reflected on the elements of storytelling—plot, setting, character, and structure—and the idea of design as narrative, shaping how people experience the world.

A key part of my exploration will focus on material experimentation and the play of light. How light reflects, bounces, and interacts with different surfaces, and how this can reveal or transform the material’s character. I’m also interested in studying form and proportion, and how different components of an object relate to one another.

To begin developing these ideas, I’ve started sketching out my initial concepts. At this stage, I’m envisioning the object as a floor lamp, with a rotating top section that can turn 180 degrees. The main body would be supported by metal four-way joinery, which itself expresses a brutalist aesthetic—raw, exposed, and structurally honest.

Through this process, I began to recognise the limits and possibilities of metal—how far it can be manipulated and where its strength and flexibility meet their boundaries. Since metal will play a central role in my Object-to-Object project, this workshop was particularly valuable. It allowed me to experiment directly, helping me gain a more practical understanding of how the material behaves and how it might interact with light, form, and structure in my future designs.

In the wood workshop, we’re designing and building a pencil box or tool box using a range of wood joinery methods. The box will have five wooden sides, with a metal top lid that includes hinges or another functional detail. The metal lid itself will be produced in the metal fabrication workshop.

In the foundry workshop, we’ll be designing and casting a coat hanger in aluminium, using a mould-making and casting process.

In the ceramics workshop, we’ll create a ceramic cup with a handle, paying attention to its form, balance, and overall functionality.

Finally, in the digital fabrication workshop, we’ll scan soft clay models we’ve made and 3D print them, exploring the relationship between digital and physical making processes.

Some of the points Oscar mentioned - If you're exploring this physical shading manipulation, what's the user experience how do they feel the connection with the materials and the process what are the visual cues for them to understand the work

Use this time to go on a conceptual journey explore the possibilities through materials ask yourself questions what happens if and investigate that

think of yourself on a scale and how you approach that project through the concepts of hylomorphism and morphogenic,  hylomorphism it's like sitting at a drawing board imposing ideas over materials you telling them what to do, morphogenic is responding to the properties of the material and then informing you how to make decisions - what place are you along this scale

often discovery can happen through play start playing with materials 

We discussed the idea of ethics—understanding not only what we have the right to do, but also what is right to do within our research and design practice. Research itself was described as a systematic, critical, or creative inquiry, aimed at generating new knowledge or understanding.

In design research, three key values were highlighted: respect, responsibility, and honesty. We also explored the concept of positionality—understanding our place and perspective as designers and researchers, and how our background, values, and beliefs shape our work.

I asked Oscar a question about positionality in design practice, especially when the audience is broad or undefined. He responded that positionality always matters, because every designer operates from a particular ideology, experience, and ethical standpoint. Having awareness of our position within the design field is what defines our identity and approach as practitioners.

During our Object-to-Object tutorial, Willy and Han gave some very constructive feedback on my project. Han suggested that I explore how wind could interact with my globe mechanism, particularly focusing on the movement it creates and the shadows it casts on surrounding surfaces. Willy, on the other hand, encouraged me to delve deeper into the idea of Maximalism, examining how it could influence the visual and material qualities of my design.

I found both suggestions really inspiring, as they open up new directions for experimentation. It would be exciting to explore the intersection between Brutalism and Maximalism, while also integrating the natural movement and play of light that wind introduces. This in-between space feels full of potential for developing a more dynamic and expressive design outcome.

Alongside the drawings, we also had to record information about each object—its creator, time period, and purpose. The task required us to collect 30+ contextual objects, 20+ sketches analysing the essence of the works, and 8+ speculative questions about them.

The goal of the exercise was to understand the contextual positioning of objects and how the museum displays them: how a designer’s choices—materials, processes, techniques, time context, and style—inform the final piece. Overall, it was a helpful way to think about material language and how objects communicate through both their design and their curation.

At the moment, I’m focusing on how the legs of the object can express maximalism—highly ornamented, yet emerging from a more brutal, structural form. I’m experimenting with a repeated square pattern running along the legs to create that tension between ornament and solidity.

The upper body of the object is still unresolved and needs deeper exploration, especially in relation to the legs and the overall body language. There’s still a lot to experiment with, but the direction feels promising.

The patterns turned out quite well. A friend mentioned they resemble old religious symbols—which wasn’t my intention, but I don’t mind the association. The pixel pattern wraps around all four sides of the legs and is carved 2 mm deep. My next step is to laser-cut walnut veneer to inlay into these carved pixels.

Alongside this, I also completed my toolbox. The metal lid is finished, held together with nuts, bolts, and hinges. I originally wanted to use screws, but I mis-drilled a hole—lesson learned.

I also finished my hook prototype using 3D printing. I shaped the form in plasticine, scanned it, and printed it. Ideally, I want to take it to the foundry to make a mould and cast it in metal, but the workshops are always full. I’ll keep trying to walk in whenever possible.

During the presentation, HAN asked whether shadow itself can be maximal—an idea that stayed with me. This gives the rotating globe an interesting role: it not only emits light but also shapes shifting, exaggerated shadows. By adjusting its position, the user can control both the intensity and the visual drama of the light, making softness and maximalism coexist.

After the main shape was built, we used a sponge and a little water to smooth the surface and refine the form. Once cleaned and shaped, the piece was left to dry. Because we used stoneware clay, it typically needs around 48 hours to dry completely before firing. The final firing happens at around 1100°C, which strengthens the clay and fixes the form permanently.

We also learned that additional elements can be added before firing, such as texture or small metal dust particles to create an inlay effect. Overall, the workshop gave us a good introduction to the basic steps of ceramic making and how different techniques can influence the final outcome.

Once all the pieces were cut, I glued them onto the legs with wood glue and left them to dry. After the adhesive set, I sanded the surface first with 80-grit and then 120-grit paper to smooth everything out and prepare it for finishing. For the polish, I used a wood-based wax, which brought out the richness of the walnut and enhanced the contrast I was aiming for. Finally, I buffed the surface with a cloth to give it a subtle shine.

This process helped me refine the detailing and bring the material qualities of both woods into a cohesive, intentional finish.

To support this process, I tested joinery details using PLA components, allowing for precise yet easily modifiable joints. These were temporarily connected using balsa wood, which enabled rapid assembly and disassembly without committing to a fixed construction method. This material combination functioned as a testing system, helping me evaluate balance, structural logic, and the visual tension between solid and lightweight elements. Through this iterative approach, the focus remained on learning from each prototype and using the outcomes to inform the next stage of development rather than resolving the object prematurely.

The front-facing wiring currently disrupts the visual clarity of the form and feels overly exposed. In response, I am considering designing an additional component that conceals the wiring while still aligning with the object’s material and structural language. An alternative approach may be to reroute the wiring from the back of the stainless steel globe, allowing the front to remain visually cleaner and more intentional. These observations will guide the next phase of development, where functional requirements such as wiring are treated as integral design elements rather than secondary additions.

I am casting a cube using grey cement to understand its physicality — its weight, temperature, porosity, and raw tactility. Rather than treating it as a neutral object, I want to experience the surface as a body.

The intention is to then intervene through screen printing — applying layers, textures, and graphic treatments that disrupt the monotony of grey. By doing this, I am questioning:

• What happens when a brutal façade receives “skin treatment”?

• Does surface decoration soften it, contradict it, or expose it?

• Is Brutalism inherently honest, or can it hold artifice?

• How does surface behave differently from structure?

I’m particularly interested in how “skin” operates in architecture — whether as protection, ornament, protest, or narrative.

Alongside cement, I want to experiment with screen printing on contrasting materials:

• Metal (cold, reflective, industrial)

• Wood (organic, porous, warm)

• Plastic (synthetic, lightweight)

• Acrylic sheet (transparent, layered, contemporary)

By applying the same intervention across different substrates, I can observe:

• Absorption vs. resistance

• Fragility vs. permanence

• Surface tension and adhesion

• The dialogue between print and material identity

This exploration sits between Brutalism’s structural rawness and Maximalism’s layered excess — asking whether surface can become a site of tension rather than decoration.

The intention is to observe rustic patterns—the patina finish—as a maximalist skin texture that flows across the body of the material. I am interested in understanding how rust can become an active, forceful transformation rather than a slow, passive, natural process. How can corrosion be accelerated to the point where it becomes expressive, aggressive, and intentional—more like a designed skin than an accidental decay?

After speaking with Dan in the metal workshop, I was introduced to several possible approaches for accelerating oxidation.

One method is to take the metal pieces to the ceramics workshop and fire them at different temperatures, observing how heat alters the surface and triggers unexpected reactions. Another approach involves using acids safely and in controlled outdoor conditions to provoke stronger and more immediate corrosion effects.

Additionally, I plan to test household agents such as vinegar and soda to observe the types of chemical reactions they produce, and how each affects the colour, density, and texture of the rust.

Through these experiments, I aim to understand rust not simply as deterioration, but as a material skin—one that can be manipulated, intensified, and designed to express maximalist surface conditions.

Through these experiments, I aim to understand rust not simply as deterioration, but as a material skin—one that can be manipulated, intensified, and designed to express maximalist surface conditions.

The temperatures tested were:

780°C
1000°C
1200°C
1260°C

At 1260°C, all the metal pieces melted completely, resulting in a total loss of form. This temperature exceeded the structural tolerance of the materials, causing them to collapse rather than develop surface texture. A similar outcome occurred at 1200°C, where most of the metal lost its integrity and form, making this range unsuitable for controlled surface experimentation.

At 1000°C, the base metal remained partially intact, but visible burn and melt marks appeared. Copper and brass, however, melted significantly at this temperature, suggesting that their structural limits were reached before meaningful surface oxidation patterns could develop.

The most interesting results occurred at 780°C. At this temperature, both brass and copper retained their structural form while undergoing visible surface transformation. The metals became harder and more durable, and developed soft, rustic surface markings. These marks appeared as subtle patina formations—uneven, organic textures that felt embedded within the skin of the material rather than applied onto it.

This outcome was particularly significant, as it demonstrated a temperature threshold where the material could transform aesthetically without losing its physical integrity. The rust-like patina at 780°C suggested a balance between stability and transformation—where heat acted not as a destructive force, but as an agent that activated the surface.

This experiment revealed that controlled heat can be used as a tool to produce expressive, maximalist skin textures on metal. Rather than forcing corrosion through chemical aggression alone, thermal exposure offers a way to alter the material from within, allowing the surface to evolve while preserving the body of the object.

This unit invites us to position ourselves differently. We are asked to choose from four thematic briefs:

Tangible Meanings
Giants’ Shoulders
Movements and Manipulations
Picking Up the Pieces

In considering the kind of designer I want to become over the next five years, I find myself thinking less about outcomes and more about language and methodology. What vocabulary am I building? What material conversations am I committing to? How do I want my work to think?

At this stage of my practice, I feel that Tangible Meanings and Giants’ Shoulders resonate most deeply with my ongoing exploration of brutalism and maximalism.

Tangible Meanings aligns with my material investigations — cement, rust, patina, surface transformation. My current practice already treats texture as language and surface as skin. This brief would allow me to go deeper into how materials hold memory, weight, force, and narrative. It offers a way to interrogate how physical processes — corrosion, casting, firing — translate into meaning. It connects directly to my interest in how material aggression can become expressive rather than destructive.

awaiting for the results.

It was fascinating to encounter the breadth of Braun’s production from the 1940s to the 1960s — from audio equipment and radios to fans and domestic appliances. Seeing these objects physically, rather than in books or online, made their precision and restraint more apparent. The material choices, proportions, and detailing felt intentional and disciplined.

What stood out most was the consistency of language across product and graphic design. The objects did not exist in isolation. The typography, layouts, control systems, grids, and material finishes all resonated with one another. There was a shared visual and structural logic — a coherence that extended from the smallest dial to the overall form.

Interestingly, despite their minimal appearance, there was also a subtle sense of play. Some objects were modular or combinatory — individual components could connect to form a larger system, yet remain fully functional on their own. This flexibility suggested that rational design does not exclude adaptability. The system was controlled, but not rigid.

For my own practice, which currently leans toward brutalism and maximalist surface exploration, this visit offered a powerful contrast. Braun’s approach demonstrates that strength can come from reduction, and that clarity of language can allow objects to “speak” to one another across time. It raises an important question for me:

Can maximalist texture operate within a disciplined system?
Can surface intensity still belong to a coherent design language?

This visit was not just about historical appreciation — it was about understanding how a design philosophy becomes embedded consistently across objects, graphics, and experience. That level of cohesion is something I want to critically reflect on as I define my own evolving methodology.

Sandblasting also introduced a subtle micro-texture to the surface. Rather than being smooth and sealed, the metal became slightly porous and receptive. This preparation stage was crucial, as it shifted the metal from being resistant to becoming vulnerable—ready to absorb, react, and transform.

Conceptually, this step felt important. Before forcing corrosion or patina, the material had to be opened up. The removal of protective layers allowed the chemical process to move beyond superficial staining and instead engage in a deeper, more embedded reaction with the body of the metal. The surface was no longer passive; it became activated and ready for intervention.

This preparation establishes a foundation for the next stage of chemical testing, where rust and patina can be induced not as accidental decay, but as a deliberate and intensified surface condition.

Some reactions were cold processes, requiring no additional heat. For example, potassium sulphite reacted directly with the prepared metal surface without thermal activation. This produced a more controlled and gradual transformation, allowing subtle tonal shifts and surface variations to emerge. The absence of heat made the reaction feel more embedded and internal, as if the change was developing quietly within the skin of the material.

The next series of tests involved copper nitrate, iron oxide, titanium oxide, and ferrous nitrate. Each chemical generated a distinct pattern and surface finish. Copper nitrate produced more vivid tonal variations and active surface blooming. Iron oxide deepened the surface with dense, earthy pigmentation. Titanium oxide created lighter, almost powdery deposits that altered the reflectivity of the surface. Ferrous nitrate introduced more aggressive oxidation marks, intensifying contrast and texture.

What became evident through these experiments is that each chemical does not simply “colour” the metal — it alters the behaviour of the surface. Some reactions spread organically, others crystallised, and some settled into the micro-texture created by sandblasting. The interaction between preparation (sandblasting), material type, and chemical agent determined the final aesthetic outcome.

I’m considering experimenting with pigments to introduce subtle colour into the base, although I’m still unsure about this direction.

Alongside this, I’ve been making sketches to explore the form and how it relates to my experiments with patina finishes. The sketches help me think about how the surface treatments might interact with the structure and material of the object.

The overall form is intentionally simple: a solid cube block acting as the base. The more expressive element sits on the top in the form of vertical fins. These fins will have patina finishes, allowing me to experiment with different surface treatments and material expressions.

The fins are designed to be removable and interchangeable. This system allows different fins made from various materials or finishes to be inserted into the base, creating a modular way of testing and showcasing patina effects.

To better understand the structure, scale, and spatial presence of the object, I created a 1:1 prototype. This helped me explore how the form feels in reality and how the fins interact with the heavy base.

As the next step, I need to develop precise dimensions for the design. Defining these measurements will allow me to move from sketch exploration to fabrication.

The plan is to create a silicone negative mould based on these dimensions. Once the mould is prepared, I will be able to pour concrete or cement into it to produce the final heavy base of the object.

The table-top discussion was an interesting moment to observe everyone’s process so far. Seeing what my batchmates are exploring in their work is motivating for me as a designer. Each project had a different direction, and it was inspiring to see how different ideas were being developed through materials, form, and experimentation.

In my display, I was mainly trying to communicate the form of my object. Alongside the drawings, I presented material samples to build a visual language around the project. It was interesting to see how the process is gradually developing and how the physical samples help others

understand the intention behind the design.

One interesting comment I received from Oscar was regarding the placement of the light source. He mentioned that if the light were placed in the centre and surrounded by metal fins, it might primarily cast a silhouette. Because of this, the patterns or textures created by the patina finishes might not be clearly visible.

Reflecting on this feedback, I see two possible directions. One option would be to alter the design so that the light falls onto the fins and highlights the patina textures more clearly. The other option is to keep the design more subtle, allowing the fins to remain visually silent and focusing more on the form itself.

I still need to think about this decision carefully, as it will significantly influence the final design outcome.

On Friday, we had a full-day workshop with Tony and Oscar focused on mimicking the Memphis design style. During the workshop, we worked in groups to design and build 1:1 scale furniture pieces that reflected the bold and playful characteristics of Memphis design.

I was in a group with Nico, Haven, and Gin, where we designed a coffee table. The form was inspired by a large piece of cheese, combined with bright pop colours that reflected the expressive and playful nature of the Memphis style. It was a fun and experimental process where we could work freely with form, colour, and exaggeration.

Other groups created different furniture pieces, including a sofa, a side lamp, a bookshelf, and two chairs. By the end of the workshop, all the pieces were brought together to form a vibrant Memphis-style living room. Seeing everything assembled together was exciting, as the individual objects collectively created a lively and expressive interior environment.

This week, I’m prioritising the base of my product. The first iteration felt promising, but I noticed that the holes within the block felt too large. They were initially 6mm in diameter, and when I placed a 6mm rod inside, the proportions felt off. To address this, I reduced the hole size to 4mm.

At this scale, the rods feel more slender — almost thread-like — especially in contrast to the heaviness of the cement base.

I’ve also started to resolve the light shade component, which was a crucial detail for me.

After the crits on Thursday, Oscar told me to be more agile. I think he meant being more flexible in terms of design and thinking. He also suggested increasing the number of fins on the top part. If the light sits in the centre with fins around it, it may only create a silhouette. How does that feel?

Maybe I can explore an idea to bounce the light back onto the surface so it illuminates more effectively.

I’m also taking up a class in glass casting. It sounds very interesting, and it’s something I’ve never explored before. Having hands-on experience in this area and creating a small glass-cast object would contribute heavily to my personal knowledge. I’m thinking of starting small — maybe exploring a simple cube and seeing how the material behaves.

I then took it to the foundry where under the instruction of lindsey we started the process. First we used pure silicon as a base layer and let it rest. the silicon was mixed with a catalyst to fasten the process of becoming solid. for every 200gm of silicon - 6gms of catalyst was used. The block was prepared for casting by constructing a melamine plywood box to contain the form securely.

I then took it to the foundry, where, under Lindsey’s guidance, the casting process began. A base layer of pure silicone was first applied and left to set, with a catalyst mixed in to accelerate curing at a ratio of 6g per 200g of silicone. Once this initial layer had stabilised, the remainder of the box was filled using recycled silicone to build up the form. The central hollow section was sealed with clay to preserve the void, which will be resolved in the second mould.

• Conceptual analysis means reflecting on what your work means, not just how it looks. How is your making leading you toward the kind of objects you want? What ideas are emerging through the process?

• Materials and origins: you need to show awareness of where your materials come from and what they represent. For example:

  • Where is copper mined? What does that imply (industrial extraction, value, history)?

  • How is concrete made? What does it suggest (mass production, construction, permanence, environmental impact)?

• This adds depth and criticality—it shows you’re not just using materials, but thinking about their context and implications.

she also mentioned if i could have a graphical chart of my process would be intresting. process → material → concept → meaning

What stood out most was how the entire complex feels interconnected. Each building does not exist in isolation but instead contributes to a larger architectural language, forming a cohesive and continuous system. There is a strong sense of dialogue between the structures, as if they are extensions of one another rather than separate entities.

It was particularly interesting to observe how the architecture exposes not only its material but also its structural logic.

The concrete is left unapologetically raw, revealing textures, joints, and construction marks. Rather than concealing its framework, the building celebrates its skeleton — beams, supports, and load-bearing elements become part of the visual identity.

The mixture was then slowly poured into the mould to avoid air bubbles. The second part of the mould was carefully aligned and secured. To maintain even pressure and prevent deformation, a metal plate was placed on top, followed by a brick to distribute weight evenly across the surface.

On Wednesday, I demoulded the cast to assess the outcome. The form was largely successful, with only minor imperfections. There was a thin layer of excess cement within the central hole, which I carefully removed using a chisel. After inspection, the block was wrapped in plastic to retain moisture and allow for controlled curing.

By Friday, the cement block is expected to be fully set, resulting in a solid and refined final form.

This process helped reveal how the concealed light behaves through the fins and gaps, creating subtle shadows, reflections, and a softer atmospheric glow within the object.

Although these issues did not heavily impact the structural stability, they definitely influenced the overall aesthetics and precision of the object. At the same time, these imperfections revealed the reality of working physically with materials, where tolerances, alignment, and craftsmanship become equally important parts of the design language.

This made me realise that the structural language of the object — the exposed framework, connections, tensions, and assembly — may hold more importance than treating structure purely as support. Moving forward, I want to explore how the construction itself can become the primary visual and conceptual element of the work.

Define your final direction and sharpen the research question

Translate 2D pattern thinking into early 3D ornament systems

Explore ornament as relief, extrusion, layering, and modular units

Produce fast sketch-to-model iterations (foam, card, clay, plaster)

Test multiple approaches rather than committing to one idea

Begin understanding how ornament behaves as volume and depth rather than surface

Output:

15–18 exploratory models

2–3 potential ornament systems

Clear direction emerging from material testing

Select strongest ornamental system from Week 1

Translate it into real materials (steel, resin, cast, oxidised surfaces)

Develop structural and spatial logic of ornament

Explore repetition, density, and accumulation as maximalist language

Introduce light, shadow, and translucency as active design tools

Test how ornament affects structure, stability, and assembly

Output:

10–12 refined models

1 dominant design system

Clear shift from experimentation → controlled language

Finalise one strong object direction

Refine proportion, structure, and ornamental density

Push material finish and detail resolution

Develop final prototypes with high fidelity

Document, photograph, and prepare presentation boards

Curate final narrative and sequence of work

Output:

1–2 resolved final objects

Fully developed material + ornament language

Presentation-ready documentation