An exploration of how architecture can react to American hyper-consumption of clothing products. With the goal to raise public awareness and create systemic, sustainable change in the fashion industry, this project synthesizes each part of manufacturing, including production, consumption, and post consumption, into one local campus. By bringing manufacturing back into the daily rhythms of an urban context and combining a prototypical mix of fashion related programs, ethically minded consumers are formed.
This thesis seeks to answer, how could architects design for mystery and suspense and how would the perception of those spaces change for the spectators? By looking into production designers, art directors, and screenwriters, specifically the film Rear Window (1954) by Alfred Hitchcock one can analyze their use of architecture as part of the way that they build mystery and suspense by making movies that can help test if architecture spaces that are originally designed for a different purpose can build mystery and suspense. This research re-creates one scene from the film in four different locations: three on Arizona State University Tempe campus and one in an apartment complex. These short movies tested in different architectural spaces as such as, entering and exiting of buildings, access under a building that restricts individuals from seeing who is coming in or out, enclosed architecture, and by having hallways that lead up to each other and not permitting the occupant/participant to see everything around them. After filming the movies were compared to each other and a set of drawings was made to understand important choices made in each movie. What this thesis comes to investigate are the movies which are tools architects can use in their design process. Instead of starting a project from a sketch, why not start it from a movie. As this thesis reveals the act of choosing a film, dissecting it, and re-creating the experience of the film in their own movies in different locations can create a unique project.
Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) is a developmental disability that impacts one’s social interaction, communication skills (both verbal and non-verbal), and cognitive function. Autism affects 1 in 60 children. Individuals with autism have trouble understanding facial expressions or social cues, and often see the world around them differently than a neurotypical individual (mainly increased sensitivity to sounds, motion, or lighting). As the name implies, autism is a spectrum, and no two individuals are alike. As the saying goes, “When you’ve met one person with autism, you’ve met one person with autism.” Movies such as Rain Man (1988) or The Accountant (2016) showcase autistic individuals who are higher-functioning; they are able to verbally communicate and live somewhat independently. Other autistic individuals, such as my brother, Tyler, are lower-functioning. Tyler is non-verbal and unable to be independent, and our day-to-day life is greatly shaped by this.<br/><br/>One thought that haunts the parents of autistic individuals is, “What happens when they’re older?” Even more scary is the question “What will happen when I’m gone?” My brother is on the autism spectrum, and my mother describes these thoughts as ones that “keep [her] up at night.” She explains, “I think it’s important for him to be completely engaged and productive, and we have that right now because we’re in our little safety bubble...that’s going to end...and it’s kind of scary.” Around 50,000 children with autism turn 18 every year in the United States, and nearly 90% of autistic individuals lose access to the services they have relied on throughout their entire lives. My hope is that architecture can help to answer this question by providing a place for adults on the autism spectrum to learn how to eventually live and work independently in the future. By implementing certain design features and design criteria to minimize the sensory overload issues commonly experienced by individuals with autism, we can create a safe space for learning for young adults on the autism spectrum.
Through a deep analysis and application of Sonya Renee Taylor’s book The Body Is Not An Apology, I discovered that apology is learned. We learn how to apologize through body shame, the media, family/generational trauma, and government/law/policy. This apology is embodied through gestures, movement patterns, and postures, such as bowing the head, hunching the shoulders, and walking around others. Apology causes us to view our bodies as things to be manipulated, discarded, and embarrassed by. After recognizing why we apologize and how it affects our bodies, we can then begin to think of how to remove it. Because the body the site of the problem, it is also the site of the solution. Dance gives us an opportunity to deeply learn our bodies, to cultivate their power, and to heal from their traumas. By being together in community as women, we are able to feel seen and supported as we work through uncharted territory of being free from apology in these bodies. By dancing in ways that allow us to take up space, to be free, to be unapologetic, we use dance as a practice for life. Through transforming ourselves, we begin to transform the world and rewrite the narrative of how we exist in and move through our bodies as women.
