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1100 Architect

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

1100 Architect
1100 Architect Logo.jpg
Practice information
PartnersDavid Piscuskas, Juergen Riehm
LocationNew York City, United States and Frankfurt, Germany

1100 Architect is an architecture firm based in New York City and Frankfurt founded by principals David Piscuskas and Juergen Riehm. It provides architectural design, programming, space analysis, interior design, and master planning services to both public and private clients, and its work includes educational and arts institutions, libraries, offices, residences, retail environments, and civic facilities.

The company was founded in 1983 in SoHo, Manhattan as a design studio of three architecture school graduates.[1] Its design philosophy focuses on sustainability, stating that, "[1100 Architect] views good design and environmental sustainability as interconnected elements of a thoughtful, responsible project."[2] As of 2015, the firm has 44 employees.[2]

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  • ✪ Yara Sharif, “The Not So Ordinary: Capturing Possibilities Through The Gaps”
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Hey, everyone. Good to see you all on this cold and rainy day. For those of you who don't know me-- the majority of you probably-- my name is Michiel van Iersel. I'm one of the Loeb Fellows here spending a year with you at the GSD having a great time. It's a great honor to be here today with you to introduce you to Dr. Yara Sharif, who's here in the front. Happy to have you here. Roughly a month ago we had Nora Akawi. Maybe some of you joined her talk. She's the director of Studio X Armand, and she talked at length about Palestine, where her family's from, and how she engages with that environment with her students. And I think you have a lot in common. So Yara is a practicing architect, academic born in Palestine but based in London spending her time between her own practice, Golzari NG Architects, and teaching at the University of Westminster and doing research. But you're very prolific. You're also a curator. You're an author of this book, which you will be talking about, I guess. But the focus of a lot of your work is on Palestine on Gaza. You've done a project called Self Built Prototype, which is, kind of, providing people with strategies and tools who can rebuild their own built environment. So you also seem to be impatient. You don't want to wait for the big structures to solve things. You're very self-starting and very hopeful and optimistic from what I know of your work. Looking for creativity in those difficult circumstances and looking for the cracks in which you can operate as a human being, but also as a designer as a creative professional and how you can maybe fill in some of those cracks or bridge some of the gaps that are caused by the violence, by the destruction in Palestine. And I think it's only relevant to have you here in this very fragmented country that I've got to know over the past few months. So I'm also interested how we can maybe use your experience in another part of the world in our understanding of the situation we are in now. It's also good to mention that you are here thanks to the Aga Khan program at the GSD. So was Nora Akawi. So it's an interesting series of lectures and conversations. I'm very pleased to have you here. And I would like to invite all of you to welcome Yara here at the stage. [APPLAUSE] Thank you very much for the generous introduction. Can you hear me all right? Yeah. Thank you very much for the intro, and thanks for the Aga Khan for the invitation. And I hope by sharing the experience, this will open up also the space for a conversation and a discussion at the end. I'm really lucky to be here for different reasons. First, because this is a fantastic university, and I've managed to sneak a peek upstairs yesterday and see the fantastic creative work that you've been doing. So it's really nice. I must also admit that I felt a bit important when I was invited here, because of the welcoming that I've received and all the extensive security checks that I've had since I've about to board in the airport. So that's something definitely that I will never forget. So being Palestinian is always kind of accompanying me, but it's something that also has shaped me as an architect. And this is what I would like to share with you from an architectural point-of-view. So the work that I've been sharing-- that I will be sharing with you is I will be wearing two hats, as it mentions. So first, I'd be wearing the hat of Palestine Regeneration Team, which is the research by a design group that I've founded along with my partner Nasser Golzari and Murray Fraser where we basically tried to think of how to rethink the Palestinian landscape and imagine what could this space of healing be. But also as a practitioner, as NG Architects, where also we try to apply these ideas or speculative ideas or conceptual approaches to dealing with the landscape and apply it in reality on life projects on the ground. And also there is the hat of me as an academic where a lot of the times the projects also are-- the students are involved with us in the field, and probably I might bring in some of those also into your attention if the time allows. So the presentation that I'm going to be doing is really very much building on my experience working and living in Palestine and how it shaped my approach. So it will be mainly about, kind of, the conceptual approach of how I started to reread and rethink the landscape. But I will also share a life project or a life experience, which is ongoing, to see how I try to implement these ideas on the ground. Probably, I don't know how many of you have been to Palestine or visited Palestine or-- yeah, that's nice. So for those who are not familiar with the context probably, this is one of the typical scene that you might come across when we discuss the Palestinian Israeli issue-- the division, the separation line, the checkpoint. It's kind of like the artifacts of occupation and extensive border lines, which are visible and invisible that is separating Palestinians from Israelis but also separating Palestinians from themselves, from their homes, from their lands, from one another. This kind of extensive separation made our life very much circulated around how we try to defy immobility and chaos that is created by the occupation. And this is-- in the top left photo is my friend, Dalia, who is going through the sewage pipe that is connecting Ramallah with Jerusalem. The images at the bottom are extract from the film called Infiltrators by Khaled Jarrar. And it basically just shows what it means to go through the sewage pipe where you have to put these blue plastic bags in your-- on your-- to wear them basically, so you don't get filled with sewage and cross through. And this has been part of my experience as well having lived and worked in Palestine a substantial time of my life. So a decade ago or so when I was trying to shape my identity as an architect, I became no longer able to live within this subtle acceptance of the norm that existed in Palestine. I needed to zoom out in search for a breathing space beyond the constraints of the Israeli occupation. I needed to search for a broader narrative where life is bigger really than the city and the adventures that it involves, like sneaking into Jerusalem through a sewage pipe, which by the way is only 15 minutes away from where I live. I couldn't reach Jerusalem. Somehow I made it to London. Between zooming in and out, I was struck to realize that the Palestine scene from an outsider lens is slightly different to that scene from an insider's perspective. It's not that the signs are not there. The separation wall, the contested map, the confusing landscape, the uncertainty of where Palestinian spaces start or end are all there. When viewed from the inside, however, we Palestinians have to live with every single details of those in our everyday life-- the absurdity, the irony, the subversion, the invisibility. And the sheer sense of chaos that comes with it forms exactly that experience and what my work is all about, finding special possibilities in these little details of everyday life where we have to go through and we have to find special means to resist. And maybe it's not to resist. It's more probably to survive is what I've been interested in. In Palestine, time and in mobility started to, kind of, shape up the landscape and shape up also our life and identity. So what I've been trying to do is to explore through design this landscape of-- I call landscape of uncertainty and explore what I call this art of special resistance that is taking place on the margin. When a checkpoint occurs people try to find alternative means to pass through. It's kind of like this everyday life, which is happening on the margin that has started to create a new cultural and urban realities shaped by this act of occupation but also by the corresponding will to survive and resist. Everyday special resistance is now really displaying tools that probably architects and planners have so far failed to achieve. So it's this informality of everyday life-- it's this kind of the special means that the Palestinians have been doing that I've been interested in capturing, celebrating, and thinking if architecture could facilitate something for these communities. So these-- with the introduction of the checkpoints, it's kind of the landscape is becoming very ephemeral. Cities appear, others disappear, identities and communities almost move from one place to another. This hidden dynamic topography that is born out of these extreme condition is very much empowered by invisibility. Invisibility is becoming, kind of, an important aspect as a tool of empowerment in Palestine. This is an image of Palestinian workers who are considered illegal using the night as an important form of invisibility to sneak to work in Israel. In Palestine, almost one-third of the population relies on construction. And with the introduction of the checkpoint and the enclosure that happened, suddenly one-third of the Palestinian population found themselves unemployed. And therefore, they started to find the means to sneak into the Israeli side in search for work and livelihood. So with all of these kind of informal practices that are making the land-- changing the landscape, the daytime landscape different to a nighttime landscape, there was something to kind of think about of how could these network or how could these invisible network become means to change the landscape. Could they become means to connect? Now exploring these ways or means for me to reread these network but also to document them and redraw them on a map was really very important for me to work in. And this comes from me living and working in a space that has always been divided by geopolitical conflict, but most importantly, because maps always played a very important role in shaping our life, politics, and landscape. And it is not-- kind of a, sort, presence not specific to Palestine, but maps were never neutral. And maps can never be neutral, and it always tends to exclude certain communities and include others. In the case of Palestine, the powerless, which were the Palestinians, were excluded. And this was probably best described by Edward Said when he said, in the history of colonial invasion maps are always first drawn by the victors, since maps are instrument of conquest. Geography is, therefore, an art of war, but can also be an art of resistance if there is a counter map and a counter strategy. So really very much inspired by Said, it was, kind of, an obsession for me as a Palestinian architect to think and to make sure that we as Palestinians drew our own map. And this is particularly of importance because, similar to many countries that has been colonized, maps were never drawn by the Palestinians. during the British mandate, the maps were drawn by the British, and then later when the Palestinian Israeli peace negotiations were happening-- mainly the Oslo Peace Agreement-- again, the maps were never prepared by the Palestinians. So for me, it became very important to think that, first, how to draw our own map, how to make sure that we're not absent, or alienated, or excluded from the landscape, but most importantly, this contemporary Palestine that is now emerging in these leftover spaces, the informal Palestine, how to document that. So going back to a, say, pre-occupation of Palestine, or probably during the [? colonial ?] mandate, and also prior to that the British mandate, Palestinians have always been rendered absent from the landscape. They've been absent from the map, but they also have been absent from the landscape. [? Wissam ?] Nassar best represented that as occupation through imagination, where the landscape is always-- Palestinians are always seen absent, probably to back up the myth of a land without people for people without a land. But in fact, those Palestinians, that landscape with its outstanding natural beauty, with its treasures, orchards, the man-made terraces, all have been constantly reinvented through maps and through imagery. Palestinians who actually inhabited and cultivated the land with their everyday life have been completely left out of the picture [INAUDIBLE] as if they have disturbed it. And therefore, for me, it became very important to make sure that-- probably as a Palestinian, I learned from that lesson. And I make sure that our narrative is documented, and probably also that there might be a need to explore new means of representing and documenting that landscape beyond the two-dimensional perspective of the map. And that's why I was thinking that maybe we do need to find new means of representation. And for me, say, as a Palestinian that I was living in Palestine, I must admit that also being confined within physical boundary, it's also that mental space of imagination becomes very limited. And therefore for me, exploring new avenues or expanding my mental space of imagination became very crucial. And that meant that I would want to allow myself to also explore speculative forms of defying the landscape, defying the power of lines that has been exhausting on the surface. So for me, in order to do that, probably one of-- I would say this is one of the starting points of how I started to shift my approach in how to read the landscape. I started to read it from a sectional a point of view, where I no longer read it only as a surface, but I started to read it more as surface, air, and underground. And whenever I think of the landscape, I start to see what if I step away from that exhausted surface that has been really overwhelmed by borders and power of lines. So the work started by me really as a process of research through design, starting to explore how the importance and the role of drawing and thinking of means to bridge that gap, to bridge that fragmented landscape. But also, drawing started to play a role in me identifying and going away beyond the conventional map to also mark the informal practices that has been taking place, the invisible practices that has been taking place. And this is quite important because not only during the preoccupation of Palestine that Palestinians have been rendered absent, I also believe that even with the contemporary current, Palestinian-Israeli conflict, whenever the subject or the context is being discussed, more the artifacts of Israeli occupation are being rendered more visible, the wall or the settlement or the checkpoints, while as the Palestinians themselves always or mostly tend to appear as passive audiences, in the sense that Israel makes spaces and the Palestinians react to them. And this is something very important that I wanted to defy because in fact, there is a lot of production of space that is taking place, and it's very important to mark or record or document for the future, but also to see if there is a way for us to celebrate it and take it further. So going underground, away from the surface that we've been talking about-- and this is a part of the book that has been published here. Going under the surface, I was working on exploring what I call the war of stone, archeology, water, and sewage. Which really, for me, in my view, they're far more dangerous than the other forms of visible or the straightforward ways of occupation, like, say, the apartheid wall or the illegal settlement. The war of archeology, where certain layers are being put more further into the surface and other layers that unroot the Palestinians of the landscape is quite a dangerous approach that one needs to be aware of-- water exploitation of resources, sewage. Stone, specifically stone being used as a cultural currency, literally, being fought over to root oneself into the land. Mean in Palestine, this is a typical scene of how the landscape of the West Bank currently looks like, where it's really a dangerous form. Quarries really have changed the landscape. And these are mostly Israeli quarries that are mainly set in the West Bank because I don't think there are any quarries in the historic Palestinian part because of its environmental disaster. But the impact is not only environmental. It's a visual impact on the landscape that is changing its image. Quarries have changed this landscape from really a homogeneous landscape into one full of voids that really any minute can literally collapse. With stone being used as really an object, Jerusalem now is rendered in stone from top to toe, if I can say that. It's the only material that is allowed to be there. Stone is really being exploited. The Israeli human rights organization [INAUDIBLE] has estimated that in 10 years' time, almost certain mountains will be completely flattened from the excessive amount of quarrying that is taking place. So while looking at that, I was trying to think of underground and think what could architecture do. Could the subversion and the invisibility that has been used become a mean to negotiate this contested space? Could I find underground and in the quarries a way to capture water from it being lost? Could I find a way to also capture the Palestinian identity that is being slowly erased? So just as stone is being used as a way to root ones into the land, could I use it as a way to inject what I call the new DNA of Palestine that could be reclaimed further? So part of these, let me say expanding that space of imagination that I've been talking about, I start to think, what if I go underground? And by going underground into the quarries, the design language became a form of confrontation, started to address the other while by capturing, crushing, and excavating the underground, I tried to rethink and reclaim and heal the Palestinian landscape. This is why the existing machinery in these designed prepositions started to viciously take over the landscape. The trucks, the cranes, the bulldozers, the lifts are deliberately retained. Their familiar dystopian face is kept as a fake moment of normality and is then masked by invisible tactics for healing. In my case, I used amber as a way to inject the Palestinian memory in the landscape, and maybe the Palestinian identity and right of homes as a way to defy the absentee law that is being used. And amber was specifically used, especially with, again, the alienation of the landscape by these pine forests, which is the forestation, an extensive, vicious forestation project that has been taking place in the landscape, where the pine tree is not really an indigenous tree of Palestine. The pine tree was introduced during the British mandate, but it's been strategically placed in areas which take over the destroyed villages. It takes over very important olive terraces and the stone terraces that really has been the key identity of the Palestinian landscape. But yet, also these same pine trees that has been taking over, and later, which I will show in one of the live projects, these pine trees also paved the way for the illegal settlements that later take place. So having said that, the amber is also produced by these pine trees, and I start to see it as a way or as an agent where it could become a mean to fossilize the Palestinian identity, and it can be injected within the stone. So the project started to offer imaginary future scenarios, and this is an example of The Palestine Post in 2028 or something, probably talking about excavations in Jerusalem, revealing another land registry trapped in amber. So amber became a metaphor for an identity that it's being lost, but it also became, instead of an agent to occupy, probably an agent to freeze. And just as I was going underground, I also tried to look above from the air. And here, the airspace is another discrete dimension absent from any political maps. Yet in reality, the air is cluttered with military airways and surveillance system that makes Palestine, I think, one of the most looked into lands in the world. Ironically, this same air that is being watched is also a habitat for half billion birds that cross it every season, being one of the busiest corridors for bird migration in the world. What was intriguing to me while I was doing the research is to realize that the biggest war the Israeli Air Force have ever faced in their life was actually the war of birds, where birds have been crashing their military aircrafts, causing far more damage than any war that they have ever went through. So I started to see whether birds could become a mean to reclaim the landscape. And even that aspect of birds is contested in that context, which was-- I don't know if it's ironic or not, but while I was looking at the research, I came across this idea of the Israel nominating the hoopoe bird as the national bird of Israel, being one of the most Zionist birds. And I was questioning what is a Zionist bird. And it was saying it's a bird that takes good care of its children and uses creative tactics to defend itself. It's not a song bird. When it wants to take over territory, there is no external difference between male and a female. So taking that as a-- I don't know, a driving force, I would say I started to think, what if the birds become the agent, maybe just to mark the landscape, just a way to mark the territory? So I called that project "The Narrow Paradise," where birds take over, creating new habitats for birds just to mark that contestation of the land and probably reclaim what we could not claim on the surface of the land. The machine in this context challenges the norm by promoting bird habitats with all their delicacy and fragility in order to capture what's still left in the air to breathe. The projects really vary. They're very much about a combination lying between dream and realism. And I will come to a moment of realism later to talk about it. But what really what I try to do in my work is really just to look or capture what I call moments of small change. These moments of small change, I see them almost like matrix, is that probably when they criss cross, they might create that space of hope that I am hoping to capture. So celebrating these details of the everyday life, probably building on the irony that we live with everyday, the subversion, the invisibility as a way to capturing hope is probably what I've been trying to do. Before I move to the live project, I wanted to read an extract from the fantastic work of Suad Amiry, which I believe also she was here a couple of years back to talk about her work with Riwaq. So I will read a bit of a confrontation or a discussion or a conversation between Suad and one of the construction workers, who basically has been going back and forth as a construction worker, is sneaking into Israel. And in the discussion, Suad was asking him about how he feels having to sneak everyday to Israel while being old. So he said, "Listen, when I am in a bad mood and I am sitting on that construction site, I say [NON-ENGLISH],, this occupation will never end. They keep taking more land and build more settlements. We will never have peace with these bastards. So in a day like that when I'm in a bad mood, I decide, OK, I'm going to put less portion of cement in my concrete mixture. But sometimes when I'm in a good mood, I think all occupations in the world have ended, and Palestine cannot be any different. And these settlements will become Arabs and most probably will become refugees for refugees and poor people like me. On a day like that, I say, [NON-ENGLISH],, put more cement in the picture." And this really represents the surreal and ironic everyday life of Palestine. I don't know if I have another 15 minutes to go through the live projects, which basically is a way to try to see if I can apply this space of imagination into the landscape. And this is a project that is like, try to think-- the project started by us trying to think about the rural and why we wanted to work within the rural landscape, and how could these ideas or concepts that I've been applying earlier could come into it. So why the rural? Probably because the rural now has been transformed into periphery space in Palestine. The rural now in Palestine has been transformed into a space full of voids. So for me, I started to see it really as this manifestation of this contemporary map of absence that Edward Said has been talking about earlier. And this has-- some call it an achievement, the Oslo peace agreement. Others call it a disaster, whichever position one in. But what happened as an outcome of this Oslo peace agreement is that the West Bank has been transformed into areas A, B, and C, where area A, basically, is this little, dark dots that represent the Palestinian built-up area, where area B and C are more of the farmlands and the rural landscape. Area C is really the rural landscape of these villages. And it's an area which is completely under Israeli military control, which means that Palestinians have no right to use them, which is basically the Palestinian rural landscape. So area C has left to decline. Area C has been areas which are not allowed for any building construction to take place, and lot of the Palestinian historic fabric also was left there to decline. So as a starting point of one of the projects, we started to work in collaboration with Riwaq. Riwaq is a center for architectural conservation in Palestine. And they spearheaded a concept which was called the 50 villages concept, where then they thought that by protecting these 50 villages, they will be able to protect almost 50% of the Palestinian historic fabric that is being lost. And that's mostly in the area C. So the project started by us looking, as part of these 50 villages, into the historic center of Birzeit. And we started to see this, looking at these 50 villages, as a way to think of this matrix, of this new matrix. So we worked with Riwaq on basically initially developing an urban strategy or a rural strategy to think of how to bring life back to the historic center, celebrating and bringing forward these informal networks that have been taking over the landscape. But later probably, the project or the ideas of rethinking the [? ruler ?] started to become more embedded or structured when working again with Riwaq on a project in a village called Beit Iksa, which is probably one of the main historic centers where the play between the speculative and the actual has been best manifested. Beit Iksa-- can you see the cursor? Yes. So Beit Iksa is here. It's really part of the Jerusalem governorate. However, the village is completely isolated. It's isolated because Jerusalem basically has been divided with the wall and the border lines into a lot of disconnected cantons, and it happens that the Palestinian built-up area are completely left out of that. And that reflected itself on Beit Iksa, where the only way to access the village is through a checkpoint, which means that the locals have to come in and out through a gate every morning and come back through that gate in the evening. In practical terms, the village is completely isolated. People left it, and it became a ghost town to decline. But what was coming-- it became more embedded into our consciousness while we were looking at the aerial map of the village trying to delineate where is our area of intervention. And the area where the red circle is, is actually the historic center, which we realized is completely invisible from the landscape. A village which completely now invisible, what was interesting for us is that this village only 70 years back was known to be one of the most important villages known as throne villages, which basically, these are the villages that were-- during the Ottoman mandate, there were few villages that collect the taxes, and they had a strong relationship with Istanbul during the Ottoman mandate. So that same place had strong relationship with Jaffa, with Beirut, with Istanbul. And suddenly now, it's only a way to access it through a gate that is completely invisible. This is a poster on the right. Says, a 12-hour in the bus with comfort, Cairo, Jerusalem, and Jaffa. So from this culture of connectivity and the global connection into a landscape that became completely hidden under these pine trees where the settlements have taken over it. And again, this description of nothingness, emptiness, silence started to construct scene and as in the old days, these scenes used to provoke and confirm a Western biblical imagination with the landscape, which later paved the way to occupation. Now, these scenes are paving the way for a landscape that is abandoned, that is left over, ready to be modernized by a railway system, a speedy railway system that connects Tel Aviv with Jerusalem directly. So again, almost that fiction of an empty space is embedded in these historic fabrics or the area C or the rural landscape. And that's exactly why we wanted to work on that further. So the starting point of working on these rural landscapes was us to think of how we can activate the rural and assure that it is not appearing as a passive landscape. We started to seeing far from being empty. We started to see these voids as everything that is not occupied. It is actually that space of possibility that hasn't been touched, and there is that space of possibility for us to re-capture it or re-appropriate it rather than exploit it. So going back to this concept of the aerial map and the fact that the landscape has been intentionally-- during the 1967 war, the roofs have been destroyed by these villages, and they became just basically green wilderness growing on them to make them invisible. We started to think, what if invisibility becomes a way to reclaim the landscape? Could we re-appropriate invisibility in this manner? And that triggered the concept of us seeing Beit Iksa as series of stepping green roofs, where all these agrarian landscape that has been taken out by the introduction of the wall and the settlements and the pine tree. So we started to see the stepping villages as a way to reclaim the rural landscape. And they become series of small gardens where here, specifically, the woman would be taking care of them. The project also was a mean-- all of these, while I'm talking about these I had in my mind this whole idea of the air and the idea of how air has been used as a way to exploit, but could air be a way to reclaim that landscape? So the green became a way to probably reclaim it. And maybe while it remains invisible, it could become a mean to empower until it is the right time for this landscape to take over. So we worked with the woman in Beit Iksa, and we worked on developing a green roof system which is made of 100% sustainable material, which basically we spent three months in our research. And we went to the vegetable market and collected all the material that could help us in doing the technicality of a green roof in a hot climate where we don't have much water to capture it. But while we were working also in the village, we tried to develop an urban strategy. And by developing this urban strategy, we tried to think how to get the locals from being trapped in that checkpoint to look outwards and to relate to the urban landscape and the rural landscape around them. So as a way to defy this mental erasure, that is the village here, we started to mark the villages that has been destroyed, the villages that has been hidden under the pine trees, like Lifta, like Deir Yassin, which been-- Deir Yassin has been completely erased, known for its massacre that happened. But also, we try to mark bird migration routes. We tried to mark the water springs that were in the village, and how basically to make sure that instead of the locals looking inwards, there is a chance for them to start looking outwards. So the early ideas of the bird routes came back. We started to apply what we called the bird fully into one-to-one scale. We marked the names that has been lost on the map. And here, it was inspired by a book Raja Shehadeh called Palestinian Walks, where he said, "In Palestine, everywhere these spring, hill [INAUDIBLE],, and cliff has a name, usually with a particular meaning." So we wanted to make sure that we capture these names, put them in. But also, we capture the informal roots of the workers who go to find jobs. We try to identify them by what we called a memory belt and moments of whisper that we called, where each one of these moments mark or point out at a landscape. So again, we try to locate bird migration routes in relation to the map and see how these could become ways to connect us with the villages that we cannot reach. We worked with the children, and they had their own little habitats of birds that they used to create. But it was an important way, again, to work with the children to liberate or to create that space of imagination with them. So we had this interesting little exercise with them where we had the birds with cameras. This is not the original one, but we literally put cameras with the birds and they flew. And the children all come again from villages that has been destroyed. Many of them has been from Jaffa, and they were just seeing this video with the aerial views of the landscape. And they had a fantastic relationship, saying this must be Jaffa. This must be so and so. And they started to name the villages that they were familiar with in stories, but they've never seen. But it was also an interesting experience with one of the children where he said, I'd like to go with the bird to Gaza. I know that they make very nice strawberry, and I love strawberries. And suddenly that whole concept-- a simple concept of a bird and a camera became a way to liberate this space. So coming to the end, so the project zoomed in and zoomed out, but in all cases what we were trying to do in this project is really just to construct conditions, to construct these series of small changes. It didn't matter to us as a principle whether that project was the eco kitchen as it was originally done, but more about utilizing it by the woman and making sure that the space is used and the village is not abandoned. And it's not portrayed as a passive space. So these are series of the spaces. And this is what we've been doing also with our students. We are now working on-- I was just discussing that we are now working on a project to rethink the whole landscape together with an organization called Sakiya. And we are trying to see the landscape or develop this concept of the landscape as a garden and taking that notion of the garden a little bit further, as garden always used to be portrayed to reflect domesticity and settling in in a land, while in this case we're probably trying to see the garden as a space of experimentation, exploration, but almost also as a factory of production. And what is that production is what we're working on now. So the images on the right is by Andreas, one of our students. And this is by [INAUDIBLE]. And this is us with the students looking at the landscape. So I'll finish here. I always try to finish with a word that has been said by a fantastic journalist and activist called Amira Haas. She said, "Israelis play chess while Palestinians play ping pong." And this always stayed in my mind because I felt like in all the architectural interventions that we're trying to do, we need to play the chess game. And I believe that the game has now changed to become a chess game and an interesting one. Thank you very much for listening. [APPLAUSE] Do you want to ask questions, or shall I-- [INAUDIBLE] Yeah, I can-- Because she said a lot, maybe this is the right moment for people to just open it up for anyone who's interested. Raise your hand, say briefly who you are so she also knows that. Thank you. I'm Eric [INAUDIBLE],, second year Masters in Design Studies student here. Thank you for your talk, Yara. You're welcome. You started by mentioning the words "hope," "reconciliation," and "regeneration," which I think as architects and designers we can all get behind. But in order to do that for Israel-Palestine, I think we need to take a very honest and critical look at both Israel and the Palestinians in order to achieve that, if we would like to achieve it for both peoples, not have dubious histories and omissions of fact. So let's start with the wall, which was actually put into place in the year 2000 after over 1,100 Israelis were killed by over 73 suicide bombings. It did not come out of nowhere. It was actually-- Which wall are you talking about? Can I finish the question? Yeah. You can call it the separation barrier or the security wall, whatever you'd like to-- or I just heard you call it the apartheid wall. Mhm. And that was installed over 50 years after the establishment of the state of Israel in 1948, which was established after the UN partition of 1947, two states for two different peoples, which the Israelis accepted and the Palestinians rejected and declared war on Israel. So let's set the record straight with that. And I guess with those facts being on the table, I would ask you what and whom do you want this hope and reconciliation and regeneration to be for? Is it just as the man who you were quoting with the cement has stated where you want to erase Jews from Israel, or is it for both people? Because as a fellow designer and architect, I personally would like it to be for both peoples. Thank you. Thank you very much for your question, very interesting and very good. Definitely when I talk about hope, I talk about hope of creating habitable spaces and human spaces. One of the very important thing, having lived in Palestine and having experienced injustice is to learn how to be human. So when I talk about hope, I talk about hope of creating habitable spaces. I do not believe that the wall is a wall of hope. The wall is dividing communities from each other. The wall is dividing communities from one another. There is a discrimination where your identity card defines what your rights are, and your nationality defines what your rights are in international law. This is called apartheid and discrimination, and it's rejected exactly as the apartheid wall is rejected by the International Court of Justice. Putting all of that aside, really, I am thinking as an architect. And that's something, when I came to do my architecture degree in the-- when I was doing my architecture degree, my tutor used to tell me, you're not a politician. You are an architect. How do you explore this through architecture? For me, it's far more important for the birds to claim and point out that this wall is rejected and refused, refused from a human point of view, refused from special point of view. And there needs to be a space to build and heal landscape rather than divide it. So for me, that's far more important. That's more important. It's the human being rather than who's who, and who does it exclude, and who does it include. I think it's that whole process of inclusion and exclusion that is very important when we discuss the Palestinian-Israeli conflict. And I think-- I don't want to get into the politics and the figures that you've went through because I think this is not going to take us anywhere. I think it's far more interesting if we discuss more a creative and a special aspect of how we look into the landscape. I hope I answered your question. I'd actually like to ask a question as well. I think some of the many things that you mentioned-- one of the many things that you mentioned, struck me was the quote from the construction worker who is sort of on varying days thought through the long-term possibility of the permanence of architecture and the permanence of buildings and the impermanence of their original inhabitants, their original purposes, and along with that, the sort of role of the birds whose presence are felt both all the time, but not physically always because of their migration. And because it seems so often in architecture that this idea of permanence is a sort of goal or a sort of validation, I'm wondering how you see permanence within your work and within this context. It's a very interesting question and also an approach. And I think it's also a fundamental question when thinking about landscape, conceptually. Actually, from what you're saying, if I am to restructure what I've been doing, it's actually all about that space of-- it's an ephemeral space that we've been producing rather than impermanent space. And I think there is nothing-- there is an interesting aspect about thinking about the landscape from an ephemeral point of view, where you create ephemeral spaces that probably are not dominant and aggressive in the landscape, but it's the accumulation of these different networks and little small clusters that makes the change on the ground. And from my point of view, when I was thinking about the landscape, whether it is the birds, whether it is even reading these invisible networks of workers, I was trying to see how these ephemeral landscapes could create small moments of change that probably over time needs to become permanent. So even when we look at the green roof as an invisible mode of empowerment, we also need to question, is invisibility always a way to empower, or is there a time where this invisibility needs to become more visible? So that's quite important, exactly as I also think about the sewage pipes and the fact that I have to go through the sewage pipe in order to commute from one place to another. One could also fall into the danger of believing that this is actually normal. And while I was living there, I used to think that this is normal, but it's not. It's inhuman to have to go through a [? shit ?] in order to communicate your daily life. And I think if temporality is a way for me to realize that it's all right, but it shouldn't stay to the end. And I think that's where creativity should come. My name is Carolyn [INAUDIBLE],, and I'm from the outside community. Thank you for your presentation. It struck me-- I don't know. I'm sure you know of the Museum of Natural History. Yes. And it struck me, the similarity of trying to bring life back into the land. And I didn't know if you were also working with Mazin or in coordination. And I think it's brilliant that you actually bring life back into the-- actually bring it into the country. And one of the things in coming here, I had heard once that Palestinian women constructed the homes, the houses. And that's why I thought, oh, isn't it interesting that a Palestinian woman would be an architect. And sort of there seemed to be a lineage. But it's interesting to me how you're going about it. Thank you. Thank you very much. Thank you very much. Actually, we are now working with Mazin on designing the Natural History Museum. And there has been a lot of interesting also discussions and debates of what is a natural history museum. And if we're talking about natural history, then whose space is it and how inclusive could it be, and how to make sure that it's a human space, as you've been mentioning. But also, with the excessive loss of the landscape and the fact that there is a wall separating Bethlehem, there's also been discussion about what defines a Palestinian identity or a Palestinian architecture. Is there such a thing as a Palestinian architecture in the city, as opposed to the villages? What could we do with the building materials and how to make sure it's sustainable? And all of these come into it with all of these issues of uncertainty also in the background. So we'll see the outcome in a couple of years' time, hopefully. Thank you. Thanks. I wonder if I could ask you what might be another controversial question. Sure. You've spoken about the architecture of hope in the Palestinian areas. Yeah. Speak a little bit about the opposing architecture of settlement, the architecture of dominance, of strategic positioning that is the architecture of Israel in Palestine. You want me to speak about it? Yeah. Your thoughts about it because you're balancing, in a sense, the other part of architecture that's occurring in Palestine. Yeah. Well, I mean, the purpose of my work is really not to talk about it because it's been talked about so much. I mean, that's really exactly why I am trying to offer an alternative perspective. Because whenever we talk about Palestine-Israel, issue of architecture and space, the subjects that come out are the built-up areas in Palestine, which are very limited, and therefore there are very high rise buildings, and [INAUDIBLE],, and unplanned because you cannot put regulations on people to say how much you could build because you have a limited amount of land. You talk about the illegal settlements, which are happening in the West Bank, and they're taking over lands and resources. And they have a problem with their architectural language because they don't really fit within the landscape. But again, it's a subject that's being talked about at so many levels, whether by the critiques of Israel or by the supporters of Israel or whatever. It's always the subject. Because it's an artifact, it's clear. The wall isn't the same thing, the checkpoint. So I'm not really in the situation to talk about it from a special point of view, apart from the fact that it's destructive, and again, it's sitting on lands which belongs to the Palestinians. And it's been ruled by the International Court of Justice as illegal, and it shouldn't be there. And at the same time, it's still expanding, and that is problematic. So if I'm going to talk hope, this is not hopeful. So I'd rather not talk about it. So thank you. Thanks. In your attempt to provide these alternative views, I was wondering, how do you position yourself, and who is your audience as well? So we had Nora Akawi here. And the projects she showed are pretty much in tune with what you seem to be doing. So it's really giving a voice to the unheard, shedding light on some of those hidden stories, finding a new language to tell those stories. At the same time, we have someone like Malkit Shoshan, who is the head of ADPD here at the GSD, or Eyal Weizman, using forensics to bring truth or to reveal some hidden information. And Malkit, for example, is directly working with the United Nations at this point to directly have an impact on conflict resolutions in certain parts of the world, using her understanding of the Israeli-Palestine conflict as a way to move on. So how do you position yourself within that spectrum of possible ways of writing histories? Difficult question, and it's a dilemma that I always have to also keep reminding myself of who are my audience, and who am I doing this for and why? And there are two levels of-- I would say there are two levels. There is the level of me documenting that history or documenting that important contemporary Palestine, which is the chaotic, the uncertain, the ephemeral Palestine that is taking place yet with creative means that are happening. And probably that's for the future history. So at some point, maybe one would say that it is not as absent as it's being portrayed. And there are new trials to redraw the landscape from a local lens, from a feminist point of view, from a female architect, but also from everyday life. So there is that aspect of probably predicting what might happen in the future and feeling responsible that there is a need to capture that and freeze it. But also, there is the architect in myself, and probably there is also the ego of an architect to build and create spaces. And I always try to think how to make sure that I bring these aspects and put them on the ground into live project. And therefore, I don't see it as who are my audience, because I don't expect to stand in front of a Palestinian to tell them that you've been going through the sewage pipe because that's his life every day, and it's not something that probably they're proud of. It's a life building on survival and struggle to get on with their life. But what's important for me is to try to create conditions for the Palestinians in order to make them cultivate hope and keep going in their everyday life. So probably they're not my audiences because I don't see myself as an outsider. I am part of that network, and I am hoping that whatever I do, I create conditions for us to move on and cultivate hope. So there is the documentation at one end, but also the creating change on the ground at the other end. And that's why I always feel that there is a danger in us academics theorizing things, and yet at the same time we're very far away from the street. And I hope that I don't do that, and I don't want to be that. I want to make sure that whatever ideas where I am developing or we're developing within our group, they are able to be implemented on the ground into real and live projects, which probably the people might feel their impact now or later. They might not see it in a similar way, but at least it does create a change on the ground. Hope I answered your question. Anyone else? Yes. Hi, Yara. My name is Lena. I'm also Palestinian from East Jerusalem. I'm wondering, as an architect and as a Palestinian, the issues of mobilities make it so much more difficult to visit the sites to produce the work with the actual community there. And I was wondering if you were able to create a new way of working so that you can actually work in places that we are not allowed to visit, like for example, Gaza or Jerusalem, expanding your boundaries. Yeah, absolutely. Thank you. I mean, I haven't been to Jerusalem for a very long time. So the last time I used that sewage pipe was probably 10 years ago, and I decided that I'm not going to do it again because it's too messy. So I didn't go to Jerusalem, but I didn't go to so many places of Palestine, including Gaza. But I also try to use this aspect of immobility or the ability of not reaching as also a way of opportunity or a way of possibility, rather than seeing it as an obstacle. And Gaza is an example. I am half Gazan myself. And for instance, in our studio, we worked with our student on Gaza where the project then was called "An Absurd City Subver-city," which we're doing with dean and Professor Michael Sorkin as well. We're doing now a publication together on Gaza. The whole concept of working on Gaza was actually to ask the students and those who haven't been, how do you reread a context that you've never visited? How could you represent a context that you've never visited, knowing that it's a very contested landscape? And how do you conceptualize it? So I don't see the fact that I don't reach these spaces as an obstacle. But even when I dealt with Jerusalem, because I couldn't enter Jerusalem, I started to read Jerusalem-- especially when we worked in Beit Iksa. I don't know if I'll find it here. But I started to read Jerusalem as the space of voids, or I started to read Jerusalem as Jerusalem of the edges, Jerusalem of the void simply because they cannot reach it. So that whole way also introduced me to all these extensive amount of neighborhoods that have been excluded from the landscape. So yeah, that's how I've been trying to work. So sometimes I see the imaginary landscape as also a way of negotiating my way around it. And maybe we should admit that a lot of the Palestinians don't know their landscape because they can't reach it. A lot of the Gazans have never seen what the West Bank looked like. Lot of West Bankers have never seen what the seaside looks like. And that in itself is problematic, and we need to document it. [INAUDIBLE] ask a follow-up question about [INAUDIBLE] presentation. Because a lot of these areas now, we do not access using our technology like you can use Google Earth or Google Maps, lot of these errors that [INAUDIBLE],, blurred out. So we cannot even use tools that we usually use to travel across the world. Yeah. And collect these data. And especially that even if there's data collected from these areas, it's publicized by certain groups. Yes. And sometimes you [INAUDIBLE] if this data's actually correct. So how do you deal with these? I draw a lot what I call subjective maps or social mapping, which is a lot of the maps that, I mean, I'm going to stop at them. So that principle of social mapping or redrawing my own map where I document or I-- I don't know how do I do a zoom. View-- where is the big zoom? Full screen. So I tried to draw my own maps to represent that period, which obviously they are subjective maps because they're maps from a personal perspective. But I equally argue that there is, probably inspired by most postmodern feminist theories, that also this subjective stance of you documenting the landscape from your own perspective and experience is also a very important way to support the objective way of documenting the landscape. So I'm using the subjective way of mapping to back up my objective way of documenting, if that makes sense. Have you tried asking the community to draw the maps? Yes, a lot of time. And I rely on them a lot, especially when I was working, for instance, on mapping the invisible network that used to navigate the landscape. I had to go with them through the journeys. But it was equally very important for me not to draw the map in the exact locations that they have been pointing out because it's exactly the invisibility of these points that make them powerful. So I had to redraw them from that subjective way to make sure that they don't mark these points, rather just hint that there is that phenomena that is taking place, and social mapping could be just an agent to hint at it rather than actually documenting it because otherwise, it will lose its power and purpose. You're welcome. Just a question in relation to this conversation, actually, is how did diaspora fit into the work that you're doing and within the region, but also, of course, within London and beyond? Yes. This obviously, what I've showed is only a small fraction of a bigger picture. So the diaspora is an important part of the project, and we've been working in-- excuse me. We've been working on a project called "This Sea is Mine," where we try to also think how do we document the Palestinian diaspora, their identity, their experience, and also explore and negotiate their right back to their home. So this whole notion of home and domesticity, and what is home. So we've been looking at different means also to explore them. And I didn't bring any of this project, but we were looking into this idea of the digital cloud as becoming a new mean for home for the diaspora. And there was couple of projects, one which was called the "Digital Flowers," which were digital gardens where the DNA of this diaspora has been implemented. And that was a project that we've done with the Palestinian Museum at some point, and then we developed that as part of the Palestine Biennale, Qalandiya Biennale. And it's an ongoing process now because we're exploring Gaza, but we're also exploring the concept of the garden. So just like in this idea of the digital, I'm just going to show this image of Gaza at the very end, which I didn't show in the PowerPoint. Forgive me for the mess. So for instance, when we were exploring Gaza, we were also exploring the fact that most of the Gazans are refugees in the city of Gaza. And there is this whole concept of the Palestinian diaspora and how do you deal with it, but also how do you deal with that notion of home when somebody has been displaced from their homes almost twice, first, when they were refugees in 1948, and second, when they became displaced in Gaza? So we started to rethink that whole notion or concept of home, thinking-- if I may just read this in the context of Gaza, where the whole city fabric has become exposed and that relationship between internal and external is blurred. Gaza is no longer dwelled in a conventional sense. So that relationship between the street, the block, the room, and the living room is blurred. So how do you explore a notion of home? How do you explore a notion of domesticity? What does memory mean? And it's a difficult one. It's a difficult subject, but this is where the self builds. Gaza is coming into it, but also concepts of maybe a parasitic type of architecture that marks these ruins and marks this idea of being displaced. It doesn't rebuild it from scratch. It's something that we've been looking into, especially that now when the destruction of Gaza has been happening, there has been a lot of ideas and donors from Qatar and I don't know where, coming and bringing these big mass projects, which are just a replica of homes that match one another. And this whole concept of memory and home and displacement had been erased. So we feel that it's important to document it and mark it as an important part of history, but also not to create a permanent residency for the refugees so that ephemeral landscape remains. A difficult subject, critical subject, but we're trying to explore at different fronts, yeah. So I'd be also curious to hear more on how your work in Palestine, how it affects your work in London, for example, where you're also active with your own practice, creating residential projects, for example. So are there any similarities, are there any lessons to be learned from those harsh conditions, thinking about segregation, for example? There are a lot of similar-- I mean, from a work point of view, there are a lot of-- probably I might not say there are many similarities technically, but there are a lot of similarities between London and many other cities, and the fact that London is a very multicultural city and there are a lot of backgrounds that come to London, including diaspora and refugees, and people of different backgrounds. And when one needs to think design in London and in contemporary city, also one needs to think how to become very responsive, socially responsive, socially specific, and reflect also on the political and economic conditions and constraints that are happening. So in that sense, there are a lot of similarities. But obviously, the context, the materiality, the way we do things is very different. The pace is very different. So from a technical point of view, they're slightly separate, but from a conceptual point of view, they're very similar in the way that we approach design and how we think these communities, and how we think inclusivity, especially that London, again, is a contested city. Probably Palestine-Israel is more straightforward, in terms of contestation, but London also has its own contestation, being a postcolonial city. And one final question. Thank you. So if you'd like to put facts and figures aside, and I think it's great that you brought up the word "subjectivity." So you mentioned you didn't speak about the settlements because it's something that's been talked about over and over again. So this is the fourth such lecture at the GSD that's all about speculative design within Israeli and Palestinian territories, yet none of them have-- but all of them have been biased. None of them have at all come from a place of actually trying to use speculative design in all of its power to actually bring together people. And I think that that's really disappointing so far. And I was wondering if you could potentially comment on the idea of this lineage of work, which of course, it's not your fault, Yara, that you're the fourth in this line of presentations that [INAUDIBLE] brought up. But I was wondering what your thoughts about that are. Because I think speculative design in this part of the world is extremely important, but I don't think that just because it's speculative design it can ignore history or facts. You're not a politician, you're a designer, but you are an academic. So you do have a responsibility in an academic institution-- Of course. --to uphold those things as well. Of course. First of all, this is not only speculative because lot of the work-- I mean, I've showed a whole last part is all about live projects that are implemented on the ground, which uses some of the speculative idea, if you may say it, or the conceptual ideas as a driving force to implement things on the ground. So I wouldn't say this is speculative. It is absolutely a combination between speculative and live project. Birzeit, which has won the [INAUDIBLE] Award is a project on the ground. The 50 villages is ongoing with Riwaq. Beit Iksa won the Holcim Award. Gaza, we're just, again, on site. So it's not speculative. I think whether-- I forgot what was the other part of your question. You were saying these speculative projects are not working to bring people together, is this what you said? I mean, probably you haven't seen much of the project for you to judge. I think you're trying to come into early conclusion. You don't know what I've done. I mean, even that concept-- Commenting on your lecture, not your other projects. But even the concept of the birds as a mediator in the air, the birds are just losing the landscape as a way to mark boundaries that we reject. And I know many people from the Israeli side also reject the wall and also reject the borderline. So to say that this is one sided and not the other, I don't think it's true because there are a lot of people who, on both sides, who are against this isolation. And it's exactly, actually, this wall and this division that both parties are trying to talk about. When [? Wissam ?] Nassar talked about this occupation through imagination, he also exactly talked about how this has its danger on the Israeli side who don't see much of the other of the Palestinians and vice versa. And this has its danger because the fact that you don't see the other and you don't know what's happening at the other end of the wall, it means that you don't care. And it means that if a disaster happens at the other end, you don't actually know. So defying the concept of wall, challenging the concept of wall of boundaries is something that is talking about actually creating a human space for both. I don't say this is for X and not for Y. It's a human space. It's a space that talks about rejecting boundaries and rejecting monuments and artifacts of power that is destroying space. And I think that's a statement that is fair and it applies to everybody, and we can't say it's for this and not that. So you put this in-- but I didn't say that. You're saying it. So I think it's important that we see it more of hope and more of imagination, and see it as a way to bring people together rather than the other way around. Yeah? Yeah. I'd love to see the wall come down, so yeah, great. Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts and projects, wonderful. Thanks. And I'm really happy that it triggered some form of discussion here. And I hope we will have other opportunities to continue this conversation here at the GSD, because it's really important. And I hope to have you back here in the future. Thank you. Thank you very much. Thank you for having me. Thank you for all the questions. And hope this becomes a platform for more projects to come and more debates. And it's what's beautiful about architecture is that it always raises question and find ways to critique and exaggerate. And there is nothing-- there is no right or wrong. It's just a process of experimentation, as long as we stay human. So thank you very much for the opportunity. [APPLAUSE]



The company's designs include institutional, residential, and commercial buildings. Award-winning projects include the design for The Children's Library Discovery Center in New York City,[3] Calvert Vaux Park Facility[4] in Brooklyn, NY, and a residential house in Palm Beach, Florida.[5]

Other projects include

  • Elsewhere:


1100 received the 2014 ALA/IIDA Library Design Awards for Best of Competition Winner and Best Public Library 30,000 Sq. Ft & Smaller[18] and the 2013 NYLA-PLA Award for the Queens Central Library Children's Library Discovery Center in Queens, New York.

In 2013, the company's design for a house in Palm Beach, Florida received the Elizabeth L. and John H. Schuler Award which annually recognizes design "in keeping with the traditional character of Palm Beach architecture."[5][19]

Other awards

Other recognition

  • 2015 & 2014 - 1100 selected as a member of Departures Magazine Design Council [23]
  • 2014 – 1100 is selected as one of "Top 50 Designers" by New York Spaces
  • 2013 – 1100 is selected for the 2014 AD100 List[24]
  • 2013 – 1100 is recognized as ARCHITECT magazine's "Top 50 in Business"[25]
  • 2012 – 1100 is selected as one of "Top 50 Designers" by New York Spaces[26]


  1. ^ James Gardner, "The Neo-Modernist Default," The New York Sun, October 3, 2006. Retrieved 2014-01-28.
  2. ^ a b "1100 Architect". Architecture Firm Directory. AIA New York Chapter. Retrieved 6 February 2014.
  3. ^ David W. Dunlap, Queens Central Library Opens Wider, The New York Times, March 18, 2013. Retrieved 2014-01-28.
  4. ^ a b NYC Design, Thirty-third Annual Awards for Excellence in Design Archived 2015-07-19 at the Wayback Machine.
  5. ^ a b Darrell Hofheinz, "Schuler Award celebrates the contemporary architecture of Kelly Klein’s vacation house on Ibis Isle Archived 2016-04-22 at the Wayback Machine.," Palm Beach Daily News, April 7, 2013. Retrieved 2014-01-28.
  6. ^ Josephine Minutillo, "[1]" Architectural Record
  7. ^ Bridgette Meinhold, "1100 Architect Renovate NYU’s Dept. of Linguistics Into a Vibrant Naturally Lit Space," Inhabitat, October 4, 2011. Retrieved 2014-01-28
  8. ^ Katherine Lindstedt, "Battery Park City Library," The Architect’s Newspaper, July 16, 2010. Retrieved 2014-01-28.
  9. ^ Cynthia Davidson, "Irish Hunger Memorial," Architectural Record, July 2003.
  10. ^ Clifford A. Pearson, "Trends in Schools K-12: Little Red School House." Architectural Record, February 2001.
  11. ^ Maria Ricapito, "Castle Above the River," New York Cottages and Gardens, October 2013. Retrieved 2014-01-28
  12. ^ Sara Dierck, "City Modern Home Tours: Brooklyn," dwell, October 12, 2012. Retrieved 2014-01-28.
  13. ^ Jen Renzi, "Glowing Review Archived 2014-01-31 at," Interior Design, September 1, 2001. Retrieved 2014-01-28.
  14. ^ Jeffrey Hogrefe, "MoMA, Acme of Modern Taste, Commissions a New Boutique," The New York Observer, August 2, 1999. Retrieved 2014-01-28.
  15. ^ Uwe Bresan, "Brand New School in Los Angeles," AIT, October 2013.
  16. ^ Carol Berens, "HM/FM House: Revisiting the Roots of Modernism," Echoes Magazine, September 2001.
  17. ^ "Gelungene Ensembleergänzung," CUBE, July, 2013. Retrieved 2014-01-28.
  18. ^ "ALA/IIDA Library Interior Design Award | Library Leadership & Management Association (LLAMA)". Retrieved 2016-05-18.
  19. ^ Preservation Foundation of Palm Beach Archived 2014-02-02 at the Wayback Machine., April 4, 2009.
  20. ^!2015-design-award-winners/c1w9u
  21. ^ a b Calamaio, Cody (2014-04-25). "Winners of 2014 ALA/IIDA Library Interior Design Awards Announced - Contract". Archived from the original on 2016-03-04. Retrieved 2016-05-18.
  22. ^ "Manhattan Triplex, New York," April 15, 2014. Retrieved 2014-05-12.
  23. ^ "2015 Design Council". Departures. 2015-04-28. Retrieved 2016-05-18.
  24. ^ "The 2014 AD 100," Architectural Digest, January 2014.
  25. ^ Elizabeth Evitts Dickinson, "Top 50 in Business," Architecture Magazine, September 13, 2013.
  26. ^ "Top 50 NY Metro Designers 2012, Archived 2014-01-16 at the Wayback Machine." New York Spaces, September 2012.

External links

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