Designblog

As I walk into the silence of the library I think about the strategy I will use to find my second book. I think about my three previous used keywords: instinct, courage, and contradiction. 

The first logic step would be to firstly follow the keyword ‘instinct’. So I slowly walk by the thousands of books, observing, stroking the covers, hoping I will be pulled towards one, like a magnet. As the pressure of silence and choosing begins to come up, I decide to use the computer. Still the source which is easiest and most tempting to turn to. 

The letters which form the word instinctive do not yield anything. It would’ve been an interesting find. Finding a word with the keyword ‘instinctive’ through an opposite way.

There goes my easy way out to find a book which I think would connect with my previous three keywords. 

So I continue with the second, courage. This time  few books show up, but none in one of shelves we are allowed to take a book from. Another sight, another loss of another keyword. 

Finally I put my last keyword in the source machine, contradiction. Last but not least, it results in a find. A book by Robert Venturi: Complexity and Contradiction in Architecture. I followed the directions that were given me and found a boring looking book on the second top shelve. Opposite from my first book I noticed the cover was very flexible and didn’t feel like a ‘concrete’, constructed book. A bit disappointed with my find I sat down and began to observe the book. Having very little knowledge about architecture I noticed that I had some ‘primitive’ expectations of the book. As said before it had a flexible cover, which stood opposite from my

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. I had expected a firm book, since I refer architecture to firm structures. Strong, solid, tight and well constructed buildings. In that sense the  format of the book really was contradictory to it’s subject. 

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Casper Braat and Bára Bjarnadóttir* talking together about the importance of being naive

Each project that students initiate, makes them into temporary experts on given topics. Art & Design schools then become knowledge hubs where different expertise cross fertilize. By looking at what types of research students engage in, Designresearch and UnBornLab organized a 'workshop' to investigate design matters from a students' perspective.

Through a series of short video's students from both the Foundation Year and the DesignLab department share ideas, focusing on the temporary expertise gained as part of their projects, rather than the outcome. The workshop was articulated around one of their given assignments. Students were asked to develop a specific object or context to help focus or explain content.

The format is clear: two persons, discussions, filmed from above.
the space is : two stools and a table.

* Foundation Year

Due to sickness, I was not able to attend the excursion to “Beauty in Science” in Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen. The name of the exhibition though really triggered my interest but I had heard some rumors that ‘checking the web page of the museum would not be any different from paying the exhibition a visit’. I had a look at the Boijmans website and classmates’ contributions on our design blog and I came quickly to the conclusion that the rumors were likely to be true. I had hoped for stuffed animals, old education books, fascinating scientific tools from out of space and paintings as ‘The anatomy lesson of Dr. Nicoleas Tulp’ – things that I had seen on my favorite floor of the beautiful Naturalis (Leiden) very often and that inspired me every time I had visited this museum. And though I don’t need stuffed animals and fetuses in jars every time I visit something science related – I’m also very open for new experiences – the things I saw on the website were pretty dissapointing and above all, nothing new. Something on the web page of “Beauty in Science” says it all, actually:
In his essay Hans Galjaard writes about how he was moved by a film of 4D ultrasound images of the development of the human foetus made by the gynaecologist Stuart Campbell. This was the beginning of his plan to collect aesthetically pleasing scientific images. In his quest for images he has asked many researchers if they have also experienced such a moment of overwhelming beauty – a so-called ‘Stendhal moment’ – but this was not the case.
So how should we experience this ‘overwhelming beauty’ if even the researchers who contributed footage for the exhibition did not feel anything of this themselves?