Narrative

This is my experience of the courtyard and the narrative I will build this semester assignment on:

"There is a place in the middle of the busy city. A space seemingly isolated from time and context. An urban room frozen in an unreal time. A collage of memories from past events and decades. A layered mishmash of ideas and free-flowing thoughts. Buildings with unknown content. Windows to peek in, gates to go through, doors to enter. Shutters with nothing but brick wall behind. Locked doors. Bare gables. Drainpipes climbing the walls and soaring together with the branches of a lonely tree. Chimneys and rooftop windows saluting the sky. A weird metal monster staring back at you from a low roof. A framed view to a housing block outside. This place is mysterious. Hidden. Confusing.

But I know this place very well. I’ve walked through it so many times. Devoured my lunch on the benches, sipping a cold beer in the sun. Today I walk through it as if it was the first time:

Walking through the gateway figures are hastingly passing me by through the courtyard. Choosing their path through endless possibilities. What is this thing that obstructs my straight walking path? It’s not a shelter or a house, it neither protects me nor provide a seating area. It divides the room making me scout for a new path through the space. Making me turn my head and look around. Slowing my speed and making me stop. Stop to touch the pillars. Feeling their warmth. Letting the smell of wood fill my nostrils, making me look around and gaze at the sky. How is it assembled? Is it only wood? Why yes, it is. Peculiar. It is the bearing structure of a small oak house, showing me how it carries itself. Strong, honest and proud. But what about the surrounding buildings? Their structures and construction are showing too. How suitably for an architecture school! Maybe I should explore this space? So much shadow though. I’m feeling more drawn to the end wall with the sunbathed benches facing me. Am I busy? No, I don’t feel busy anymore. This space is overcrowded with tactility, materials, colours. I must explore and observe. But the ground is making my feet and ankles stumble and shake. Making me walk even slower and looking to the ground. So many stones. Different shapes, making an uneven surface where I must be careful where I put my heels. How irritating. Or maybe just a stupid idea to wear heels today. But where to sit? The ground is burning and bumping and now all the seats are taken. High and low voices are filling the courtyard. The sound of laughter is bouncing on and off the walls. Interfering with the pop of a soda, the buzzing sound of the kitchen and is that a bird passing by? I feel like joining the sitting ones even though there is no room for me on the benches. Everyone is facing me, making me feel included in a weird way; I’m not a part of it though, it’s just the way the benches are placed. They sit close together, their bodies embracing the warm beams of sun. I wonder if they experience the courtyard the way I just did. For them, this place might still just be a crossing of paths and an occasional seat in the sun. I want to shake them, take them out of their usual habits and start exploring and appreciating this place. They are me for just a couple of hours ago. Interesting how much you miss when you don’t take the time to stop and wonder.

This place is rich. So many notches, nooks and secrets. It saturates me, making me want to create and explore. How can I invite people to explore with me?"