Michael Vlasopoulos
Three beds, a trip and a calendar
I designed a house with three beds in it. There's nothing new here; a home made out of three existing houses located in three cities across Europe. My house is an aggregation of objects, machines, documents and surfaces that revolve around a bed. The body adjusts its habits according to the constant reoccurrence of sleep: the to-and-fros in the bedroom. The house is a mould for everydayness. It generates a geography of habits, customs and repetitive actions. All of these construct the certainty of the daily life; the routine. I created diagrams of my personal corporeal, psychological occurrences and periodical encounters: A statistical portrait of my life.
My house is a trip. All of my belongings are scattered over Europe. My archive, my workspace, my family are distributed over different time-zones. There was a time when the city ended just before the door rug. Nowadays, you have to travel to feel like home. It seems that the house of the 21st century resembles a diagram that evolves through the axis of time. The inhabitation has a velocity of its own.
My calendar is my house. We tend to design our own biography -our own lifestyle- and we do that by dividing life into periods, cycles and epochs. Our civilization knows how to operate in a consensual calendrical time. I used this device of measuring time and cataloguing activities as a manifestation of the habitat. The calendars I came up with can be perceived as the blueprints of the contemporary house. The design focuses on a meticulous planning of the annual calendar, prearranging everything so as to function like a single edifice. Supposing that I'm in my hometown with my family, in order to climb up to the third floor of this villa analoga I‘ll need approximately one and a half hours. In order to reach the attic I’ll need a day on the train. By domesticating the trip you may come up with a house that you don’t ever exit. Endless interior.-
Three beds, a trip and a calendar
I designed a house with three beds in it. There's nothing new here; a home made out of three existing houses located in three cities across Europe. My house is an aggregation of objects, machines, documents and surfaces that revolve around a bed. The body adjusts its habits according to the constant reoccurrence of sleep: the to-and-fros in the bedroom. The house is a mould for everydayness. It generates a geography of habits, customs and repetitive actions. All of these construct the certainty of the daily life; the routine. I created diagrams of my personal corporeal, psychological occurrences and periodical encounters: A statistical portrait of my life.
My house is a trip. All of my belongings are scattered over Europe. My archive, my workspace, my family are distributed over different time-zones. There was a time when the city ended just before the door rug. Nowadays, you have to travel to feel like home. It seems that the house of the 21st century resembles a diagram that evolves through the axis of time. The inhabitation has a velocity of its own.
My calendar is my house. We tend to design our own biography -our own lifestyle- and we do that by dividing life into periods, cycles and epochs. Our civilization knows how to operate in a consensual calendrical time. I used this device of measuring time and cataloguing activities as a manifestation of the habitat. The calendars I came up with can be perceived as the blueprints of the contemporary house. The design focuses on a meticulous planning of the annual calendar, prearranging everything so as to function like a single edifice. Supposing that I'm in my hometown with my family, in order to climb up to the third floor of this villa analoga I‘ll need approximately one and a half hours. In order to reach the attic I’ll need a day on the train. By domesticating the trip you may come up with a house that you don’t ever exit. Endless interior.-