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CONCRETE ISLAND, HAMBURG, 2019
Traumnovelle and students of the Seminar „Work in Progress“ organized by Teaching and Research Associates Sara Lusic-Alavanja, Tim Simon-Meyer and Daniel Springer at the HafenCity Universität Hamburg, Faculty of Architecture, in the Winter 2019/2020.
1. Before the workshop,students will perform a walk to a specific ballardian setting in Hamburg. There, they begin to investigate the context of the infrastructure and emphasize on its potentiality.
2. During their site visits,the students will have to scavanger for leftover materials and in this relation to in- vent fictitious narratives for a hut or shelter based on the discoveries and extrapolation they have in- vestigated.
„Soon after three o‘clock on the afternoon of April 22nd 1973, a 35-year-old architect named Robert Maitland was driving down the high-speed exit lane of the Westway in- terchange in central London. Six hundred yards from the junction with the newly built spur of the M4 motorway, when the Jaguar had already passed the 70 m.p.h. speed limit, a blow-out collapsed the front nearside tyre. The exploding air reflected from the concrete parapet seemed to detonate inside Robert Maitland‘s skull. During the few seconds before his crash he clutched at the whiplash- ing spokes of the steering wheel, dazed by the impact of the chromium window pillar against his head. The car veered from side to side across the empty traffic lanes, jerking his hands like a puppet‘s. The shredding tyre laid a black diagonal stroke across the white marker lines that followed the long curve of the motorway embankment. Out of control, the car burst through the palisade of pine- wood trestles that formed a temporary barrier along the edge of the road. Leaving the hard shoulder, the car plunged down the grass slope of the embankment. Thirty yards ahead, it came to a halt against the rusting chassis of an overturned taxi. Barely injured by this violent tan- gent that had grazed his life, Robert Maitland lay across his steering wheel, his jacket and trousers studded with windshield fragments like a suit of lights.“
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‘Deliberately, he turned his back to the motorway and for the first time began to inspect the island. ‚Maitland, poor man, you‘re ma- roonedherelikeCrusoe—Ifyoudon‘t look out you‘ll be beached here for ever...‘
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He had spoken no more than the truth. This patch of abandoned ground left over at the junction of three motorway routes was literally a deserted island.“
JG Ballard, Concrete Island
SHADOW
Lisa Anhut
They were all equal here.They came broken,trou- bled,with their fears and issues,with their despair and loneliness, to be fixed and healed, to be em- braced in the warmth of silence. Always accom- panied by the lines of the shadows following them everywhere, equally.
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Lisa Anhut
They were all equal here.They came broken,trou- bled,with their fears and issues,with their despair and loneliness, to be fixed and healed, to be em- braced in the warmth of silence. Always accom- panied by the lines of the shadows following them everywhere, equally.
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THE CARD GAME
Adrian Bachmann
On a burning hot day,on which it was only possible to stay inside and cool yourself with a big bag of ice cubes,the usual group of retired farmers were the only ones visible in the streets of the little village. Sitting under the protection of the huge concrete slab, that always seemed like it would bury every- thing underneath it in the next couple of minutes, one of the farmers just lost another game of black jack.Getting upset by another lost partie he would jump up from his concrete seat hitting his head on the low height of the slab, being reminded that he is not going to put all this years income onto one card.
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Adrian Bachmann
On a burning hot day,on which it was only possible to stay inside and cool yourself with a big bag of ice cubes,the usual group of retired farmers were the only ones visible in the streets of the little village. Sitting under the protection of the huge concrete slab, that always seemed like it would bury every- thing underneath it in the next couple of minutes, one of the farmers just lost another game of black jack.Getting upset by another lost partie he would jump up from his concrete seat hitting his head on the low height of the slab, being reminded that he is not going to put all this years income onto one card.
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THE EUROPEAN PATENT N°0088846 Antonia Banduch
Crawling under our monstrous grey block of stone along the path–passing the crowds of people in- side.Not seeing anyone,noticing just me.Through a round opening in the celling trying to climb onto the deck. There I am alone. The mechanical clock as the only remnant from a post-apocalyptic time.
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THE PORTABLE HOUSE
Mattteo Benvenuti
A house you can pack and move where you want until you find a suitable place to live.
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Mattteo Benvenuti
A house you can pack and move where you want until you find a suitable place to live.
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THE TRAIN STATION
Arianna Chistè
I haven ́t seen the sun in a long time, after what happened we ́ve lost the condition of time and the days have become endless.
I have been waiting in this station for an indefinite period of time for a train that will never arrive, and now it is difficult and dangerous to travel.
I ́m cold and I don ́t know how long It ́ll last.
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PLOW
Paolo Dallapozza
In a post-apocalyptical atmosphere the few sur- vivors will found a new civilization. With the few ruins witch they can find they ́ll create a new plow to work the ground. The plow let man work the ground witch will become again fertile so a new civilization can grow. The plow is taken as a sym- bol for the new civilization witch will be founded on the work of the ground.
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SUMMONING THE PAST
Tim Garbers
As the elder leads his people into the shrine of the old world, yellow clouds form around it`s rusty peaks. “Breath in the dust of the ancient folk be- fore us!” shouts the worn-down leader into the masses and reaches his arms up the cold weath- ered walls encircling the place of gathering. A glooming sunshine leaks through the distant opening at the top while the air gets filled with particles from the decaying structure towering over its praised people.
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Tim Garbers
As the elder leads his people into the shrine of the old world, yellow clouds form around it`s rusty peaks. “Breath in the dust of the ancient folk be- fore us!” shouts the worn-down leader into the masses and reaches his arms up the cold weath- ered walls encircling the place of gathering. A glooming sunshine leaks through the distant opening at the top while the air gets filled with particles from the decaying structure towering over its praised people.
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RED LIGHT CLUB
Franz Kirsch
Narrow passage. Colored bodies. Infinite movement.
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INTO CIRCLES
Matthis Gericke
The slowly rotating roof is throwing smooth shad- ows on the people lying beneath while the high- way next to the island is packed with traffic. But the calming sound of the moving structure mutes the outer world.The circle accumulates this atmo- sphere.
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SECRET ESCAPE
Zoila Ramirez Morales
Once I was walking in the forest, I needed space and fresh air. It ́s when I discovered this place, a ruin,an old industry complex.It was misty that day.
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STOPOVER
Ionela Ngonga
A stopover is a stop marked by nomads during a long distance journey.It allows to recharge to con- tinue the endless travel.
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BOAT
Emma Tander Rasmussen
I was looking out into the blue,staring after the to- morrow.And then I saw it.
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SIGNAL
Adèle Rodari
They are stuck in the desert. They protected themselves from the extreme weather, but now they are searching for help...
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Adèle Rodari
They are stuck in the desert. They protected themselves from the extreme weather, but now they are searching for help...
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THE SPACE
Tamer Snober
It is helping the community to be reestablished. People from all ages are going to it, enjoying their life in a space that is connecting the old to the new.Neighbors met excellently after years of seg- regation and dilemma.What a wonderful feeling.
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ROOTS AND BRANCHES
Ida Steinhagen
A tree growing in the heart,the midst,the center. A hut housing an individual.
Roots making you belong.
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