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page191from Nordic Architects Writes
remember our own childhood largely through
the houses and places that we have lived in. We have projected and hidden parts
of our lives in lived landscapes and houses, exactly as the orators placed
themes of their speeches in the context of imagined buildings. The reflection
of places and rooms generates the recall of events and people.
I
was a child of that house, filled with the memory of its smells, filled with
the coolness of its hallways, filled with the voices that had given it life. There
was even the song of the frogs in the pools; they came to the with me here.
reminisces Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, the legendary pilot and
writer, after having crash-landed with his plane in a sand desert in North
Africa.8
The mental power of fragments
In his novel The Notebooks of Malte Laurids
Brigge, Rainer Maria Rilke gives a similarly moving record of a distant memory
of home and self, arising from fragments of the grandfather’s house in the
protagonist’s memory:
As
I recover it in recalling my child-wrought memories, it is no complete
building: it is all broke up inside me; here a room, there a room, and here a
piece of hallway that does not connect these two rooms but is preserved, as a
fragment, by itself. In this way it is all dispersed within me … all that is
still in me and will never cease to be in me. It is as though the picture of
this house had fallen into me from an infinite height and had shattered against
my very ground.9
The remembered image arises gradually,
piece by piece, from fragments of memory as a painted Cubist picture emerges
from detached visual motifs.
I
have written about my own memories of my grandfather’s humble farm house, and
pointed out that the memory house of my early childhood is a collage of
fragments, smells, conditions of light, specific feelings of enclosure and
intimacy, but rarely precise and complete visual recollections. My eyes have
forgotten what they once saw, but my body still remembers.
Buildings
and their remains suggest stories of human fate, both real and imaginary. Ruins
stimulate us to think of lives that have already disappeared, and to imagine
the fate of their deceased occupants. Ruins and eroded setting have a special
evocative and emotional power; they force us to reminisce and imagine. Incompleteness
and fragmentation possess a special evocative power. In medieval illustrations
and Renaissance paintings architecture settings are often depicted as a mere
edge of a wall or a window opening, but the isolated fragment suffices to
conjure up the experience of a complete constructed setting. This is the secret
of the art of collage but also some architects, such as John Soane and Alvar
Aalto have taken advantage of this emotional power of the architectural
fragment. Rilke’s description of the images of life lived in a demolished house
triggered by the remains and stains left on the end wall of the neighbouring
house, is a stunning record of the ways of human memory:
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