X = ( T = E = N )
031 Ten Lager Eugster Belgrade Drawing Of The Gallery Kopie

032 Spacex 8 Long Exposure Of The Falcon 9 Crs 9 Launch Arc Landing 2016

Spacex 8, Long Exposure of the Falcon 9 Crs 9, launch arc, landing 2016

049 G B Montano Plan Of Unidentified Centralised Structure Possibly Roman Tomb Early Sixteenth Century Maxwell Album

G B Montano, plan of unidentified centralised structure, possibly roman tomb early sixteenth century, Maxwell Album

050 Anonymous Plan Of Unidentified Centralised Structure Possibly Roman Tomb Early Sixteenth Century Devonshire Collection Chatsworth

Anonymous plan of unidentified centralised structure, possibly Roman tomb early sixteenth century, Devonshire, collection Chatsworth

051 Ten Light Drawing 10 Light Capture Robotic Drawing With David Jenny

TEN, 10' Light Capture, Robotic Drawing, with David Jenny

032 Spacex 8 Long Exposure Of The Falcon 9 Crs 9 Launch Arc Landing 2016

Spacex 8, Long Exposure of the Falcon 9 Crs 9, launch arc, landing 2016

011 Ten Nautilus Construct Vardar River Embankment With Ngo Ccn Image Joel Tettamanti

012 Ten Nautilus Construct Drawing Of Uses With Ngo City Creative Network

003 Ten Lager Eugster Belgrade Harbour Site Drawing

044 Ten Lager Eugster Belgrade Concrete Foundation

TEN, Lager, Eugster Belgrade

077 Ten Xten With Simon Egli 1500

TEN, X=ten conversation with Simon Egli

Wittgenstein once said that  words are deeds. We disagree. Particularly in a time when words fail to meaningfully reflect consensus on the material world, and serve primarily to fortify self-fulfilling rhetoric. In response to this contemporary stalemate within architecture discourse, TEN returns to an investigation of how architecture is made legible in the world. That is, TEN investigates modes of architectural literacy, striving to understand the relationship between words, drawings and buildings in the long history of architectural practice and pedagogy. Our writing, teaching and design practice is focused on dissecting and reconstructing the intersections and tensions that exist between these three mediums. Within these spaces of translation, we enact the potential for architecture. TEN’s projects combine experiments in theory with the art of making, to build a unique practice of applied research. TEN brings ideas into physical forms and public engagements to expose and critique the habitus of specialization that architecture is trapped in today, and to question the relevance of architecture’s ‘professionalization’. TEN is interested in exposure, in experimenting with new methods and engaging in reciprocal conversations with people we do not understand. TEN is nourished by the fact that this procedure does not merely point out a reality, but creates a shared experience of it. Meaningful art, architecture and design, we argue, joins the mandates of both research and craft to give form to inter- subjective reality. TEN is a Zurich-based architecture research studio made up of individuals from the fields of architecture, design, architectural history, writing, academia and making. We come together outside the frame of our institutional research to develop interdependent and collaborative project partnerships across the broad spectrum of cultural production, with a specific focus on design-by-research briefs. TEN, unlike conventional architectural offices, practices its ethos through a portfolio of self-initiated projects that we undertake with specialized research departments, civil society, local governments and community representatives. Our output includes public events and symposia, teaching programs  resulting in related publications and exhibitions, and a design practice encompassing both theory and making. We see every project, whether a construction project, a teaching unit or a written text, as a chance to develop a holistic production that links these various facets of architectural practice. TEN has worked with live prototyping, design and build workshops, collective editing, collated public mapping, material research investigations, pedagogical experiments, curatorial propositions and public lectures and performances. Together we have explored the roots of modern classicism, what it means to annotate a drawing, robotic construction procedures, informal urbanism and new architecture typologies, stone carving in Nepal, erecting timber frames in Macedonia, copper electrolysis in Serbia, furan sand casting in St. Gallen, and firing porcelain in Geneva.

031 Ten Lager Eugster Belgrade Drawing Of The Gallery Kopie

038 Ten Lager Eugster Belgrade Gallery Entrance

Ten Monks Residence Thame Valley Site Drawing For Landscape

TEN, Monks Residence, Thame Valley, site drawing

100 Nepal Thame Monks Residence Simone Bossi 124

100 Nepal Thame Monks Residence Simone Bossi 118

Ten Republic Motovun Forestation Students Maksimilian Tasler And Karlo Seitz Drawing Workhop 2015 For Nepal

TEN, Re:public, Forestation, students Maksimilian Tasler and Karlo Seitz, 2015

Ten Study Swiss Art Award 2018 Winners Photo By Raffaela Endrizzi 04

Ten Study Swiss Art Award 2018 Winners Photo By Raffaela Endrizzi 05

Ten Republic Motovun The Double Students Jure Bogdanic And Ariana Kun Drawing Workhop 2015A

TEN, Re:public, The Double, students Jure Bogdanic and Ariana Kun, 2015

024 Playing Chess With Death Still From Ingmar Bergmans The Seventh Seal 1957

Playing chess with Death, still from Ingmar Bergmans the Seventh Seal, 1957

Ten Dobrovic In Out Student Tihomir Dicic With Ljiljana Blagojevic And Milica Lopicic Drawing Workshop 2017

Ten Dobrovic Landscape Student Myriam Marti With Ljiljana Blagojevic And Milica Lopicic Drawing Workshop 2017

071 Ten Monks Residence Facade Plaster Detail Image David Stoeger 1500

TEN, Monks Residence, facade detail

072 Ten Monks Residence Workers Fire Image David Stoeger

TEN, Monks Residence, workers fire

001 Ten Le Salon Baugespann10X10X10 With Jan Eugster Image Joel Tettamanti

TEN, Le Salon, Baugespann 10x10x10m, with Jan Eugster, image by Joel Tettamanti

076 Ten Le Salon Drawings Study

TEN, Le Salon, drawings study

039 Ten Lager Eugster Belgrade Gallery Interior

038 Ten Lager Eugster Belgrade Gallery Entrance

077 Ten Xten With Simon Egli 1500

TEN, X=ten conversation with Simon Egli

078 Bob Dylan With Ten Still From D A Pennebakers Bob Dylan Dont Look Back 1967

Bob Dylan, with TEN, still from D A Pennebaker’s “Bob Dylan, Dont Look Back“, 1967

Joel Tettamanti 16803 28X35

006 Ten Nautilus Construct Bottom Stage With Ngo Ccn Image Joel Tettamanti

039 Ten Lager Eugster Belgrade Gallery Interior

042 Ten Lager Eugster Belgrade Space

100 Nepal Thame Monks Residence Simone Bossi 110

100 Nepal Thame Monks Residence Simone Bossi 111

043 Ten Lager Eugster Belgrade Metal Door

044 Ten Lager Eugster Belgrade Concrete Foundation

TEN, Lager, Eugster Belgrade

029 Ten Lager Eugster Belgrade Gallery Wall With Black Column

030 Ten Lager Eugster Belgrade Gallery Wall

TEN, Lager, Eugster Belgrade

Die neu gebaute Umgebung in der Schweiz widerspiegelt das Vokabular durch welches sie kommuniziert wird. Es ist ein Vokabular das sich im heutigen Architekturdiskurs verselbstän-digt hat und unsere Idealvorstellungen und Normen unhinterfragt repräsentiert. Es beinhal-tet Wörter die ausschliesslich positiv konnotiert sind und die komplementär eingesetzt werden, obwohl sie sich in ihrer eigentlichen Bedeutung widersprechen. Ohne Fragen aufzuwerfen sind sie dehnbar, vielseitig anwendbar und scheinen vielmehr Abbild der Moral und Werte ihres Benutzers als Auseinandersetzung mit Architektur zu sein. Durch die Art und Weise ihrer Verwendung sind diese Wörter vollends ihrer Bedeutung enthoben, zu leeren Worthülsen verkommen und Projektionsfläche für diffuse Hoffnungen geworden.

Dieses verselbständigte, adaptive Vokabular setzt gleichzeitig die Richtwerte im Entstehungsprozess von Architektur. So wird jenes zur Argumentationsbasis des Dialogs in der schweizerischen Kultur des Konsenses. Im Spannungsfeld zwischen Architekten, Fachplanern, Privaten, Investoren und der öffentlichen Hand manifestiert sich dieser Konsens als Übereinstimmung und Zustimmung, wobei Dissens und Vielfalt als störend empfunden werden, während ersterer durchaus mit fehlendem Widerstand vereinbar ist. Die gebaute Konsequenz dieser Konsensfindung ist eine Architektur des Kompromisses – denn während sich auf dem Weg zur Übereinstimmung keine Partei mässigt, fallen der Verzicht und die Abstriche allein auf die Architektur zurück. Die entkräftete Idee verliert so alle Möglichkeit zu einer verständlichen Aussage, zu einer kritischen Frage oder zu einer politischen Haltung. Das Endprodukt und dessen Verträglich-keit stehen über seinem Inhalt und die Angst vor dem Unbekannten siegt über die Neugier. Der Mehraufwand an Mut, Scharfsinn und Kritik der vom Architekten abverlangt wäre, um sich der Absurdität und Willkür im Entstehungsprozess von Architektur zu widersetzen, versiegt unter dem Druck der Ökonomie, der Abhängigkeit vom innerdisziplinären Zirkus, der gesellschaftlichen Norm und seinem eigenen selbstbezogenen Erfolgsstreben.


Wenn Architektur zum reinen Erfüllen von Anforderungen wird, die in einem unreflek-tierten, undifferenzierten Vokabular wurzeln, ohne ein kohärentes Ganzes schaffen zu können, wird der Kompromiss zum Feind jeder Idee. Die Gefahren und Demütigungen im Kampf dagegen sind gross, doch es ist unsere einzige Möglichkeit als Architekten die Auto-rität der Architektur und das Mittel der echten Idee als unser Werkzeug zurückzugewinnen. Im Kollektiv müssen wir ein präzises Vokabular erlangen um Architektur kritisch disku-tierten zu können. Und wir müssen den Mut finden, um das Potential unserer gebauten Zukunft nicht im Konsens mit fehlendem Widerstand untergehen zu lassen.


Haus Ohne Eigenschaften, N. Zimonjic (TEN) and L. Piskorec (TEN) with C. Bessire, M. Winter and G. Dürig

022 Ten Haus Ohne Eigenschaften Designs With Céline Bessire Matthias Winter And Guillermo Dürig

Ten Monks Residence Thame Valley Site Drawing For Holywood

TEN, Monks Residence, Thame Valley, site drawing

064 Szabolcs Kiss Pál Hollywood Ten 2014

Szabolcs Kiss Pál, Hollywood, 2014

Ten Monks Residence Thame Valley Site Drawing For Landscape

TEN, Monks Residence, Thame Valley, site drawing

100 Nepal Thame Monks Residence Simone Bossi 106

TEN, Monks Residence, Thame Valley, image by Simone Bossi

007 Joel Tettamanti Skopje Survey Facade Detail 2015

Joel Tettamanti, Skopje survey, 2015

006 Ten Nautilus Construct Bottom Stage With Ngo Ccn Image Joel Tettamanti

100 Nepal Thame Monks Residence Simone Bossi 108

100 Nepal Thame Monks Residence Simone Bossi 109

TEN, Monks Residence, Thame Valley, image by Simone Bossi

100 Nepal Thame Monks Residence Simone Bossi 101

100 Nepal Thame Monks Residence Simone Bossi 102

059 Ten Republic Zagreb Rooms Houses Of Giants Students Marina Krcalic And Nikola Kasic Drawing Workhop 2014

TEN, Re:public, Houses Of Giants, students Marina Krcalic and Nikola Kasic, 2014

"drawing oneself into place“ If the new language of images were used differently, it would, through its use, confer a new kind of power. Within it we could begin to define our experiences more precisely in areas where words are inadequate. (Seeing comes before words.) Not only personal experience, but also the essential historical experience of our relation to the past: that is to say the experience of seeking to give meaning to our lives, of trying to understand the history of which we can become the active agents.” John Berger, Ways of Seeing. re:public For Re:public, the city is the centre of attention. Their work calls for a the renewal of the way we regard the city. Their name reflects the orginal derivation of republic— Res Publica—that which belongs to the people, the public realm, our common ground. In the summer of 2014 Re:public held a week-long drawing exercise in Zagreb as part of an on-going programme of teaching and research. This exhibition and its catalogue bring together a selection of the drawings set in a wider cultural context: seven drawings, each paired with a text and an art reference associated with the subject it depicts. Together, they create a space in which they can be considered alongside one another for the first time. In the drawing exercise, the representational technique they chose to employ was the oblique drawing, a mode of drawing with a long and varied history. Each drawing, made by pairs of students, used the cadastral map for its basis. Thus, the exact geometry and relations between the elements were preserved while the drawings were given a vertical dimension. parallel archetypes Between the monuments of a city and its well-defined places; between its squares, streets and districts there is a kind of space that is usually only subliminally registered. These are places that to many might seem dislocated, unremarkable— or they might be places that remain unseen, obscured by  their location or by their ubiquity. These are spaces that are  in-between or throughout what we normally consider to be places: spaces that exist in parallel, alongside the familiar.  These spaces are part of the subject at hand: but Re:public sees them not as a kind of exotica, as curiosities, but rather as offering a complementary series of archetypical figures that are part of the language of the city—our common heritage, our common culture. These figures speak to themes within art and literature, and it is these threads they hope to re-establish. In isolating these spaces one must choose where to begin and end, to judge their extents, and to depict their edges and thresholds, carefully observing these aspects. In making islands of them, considering them by themselves, removed, at least visually, from the topography in which they are normally embedded, one is able to assume a new way of seeing them. A way of seeing that can then be shared. These spaces are fundamentally architectural because they depend on precise geometry and the relationships between elements for their very character. This is why they carefully trace the territory that they enclose or include, and seek to represent them in a way that is not fanciful, but exacting and visionary. Drawing is a fundamental tool for architects and designers of all kinds. They see drawing as part of a common language with which architects might better speak to the world at large. Most powerfully, drawing can be allied with other arts, which is why they are bringing this set of drawings together with writing and works of art from elsewhere. To draw things selectively and carefully is an antidote to the illusion of omniscience that GIS-based mapping promises, as well as the overwhelming volume of information such mapping involves. The mode of drawing also reaffirms the essential subjective character of the image of the city. In the act of drawing, one is forced to make conscious choices about what to show and which methods and means to use. The ethical demand is, of course, that one aims to reveal rather than to obscure. One is liberated, however, in re-orienting and re-scaling the space depicted to show its true affinities and to enhance the potential of these archetypes. In recovering these spaces and placing them within this larger culture—marking out a wider territory—a shared vision begins to emerge, one that is capable of guiding our collective actions. a i m s Such archetypes, they argue, are a source of latent potential for the city today. Particular expressions of these, once reinterpreted and represented, can sustain a shared imagination and form the basis of specific concrete propositions, supporting the public imagination of the city itself. Why embark on such a project? A greater literacy of urban form would improve the quality of the discourse surrounding the city—an antidote to present object-oriented and solution-based fixations—glossy images of buildings serving the desires of everyone apart from the public itself. These modes of approaching the city are full of imagination, but they are not fanciful. This is both appropriate and powerful, for the world is pervaded by imagination, by human ideas and values, and requires our imagination, in turn, to fully interpret it. These modes include the speculative, the metaphorical, the associative. The mode of thought, however, is never obscured, but open to participation. The power of such modes of thought and production, centred around the act of drawing, may be capable of renewing our vision for the actuality and potential of places. In other words, they might help us draw ourselves into place, to find points of departure to act, to take an active part in the future of our civic life.

073 Robert Smithson The Spiral Jetty Image By Gianfranco Gorgoni 1970

Robert Smithson, The Spiral Jetty, image by Gianfranco Gorgoni, 1970

074 Paiute Fisherman On The Shores Of Walker Lake Image By Paviotso 1924 Library Of Congress

Paiute Fisherman on the shores of Walker Lake, image by Paviotso, 1924, Library of Congress

015 Ten Lager Eugster Belgrade Gallery Ceiling

Ten Monks Residence Structural Drawing Crop

005 Eero Saarinen Walking Down The Mock Up Stairs For The Saint Louis Gateway Arch Image By Balthazar Korab 1950S

Eero Saarinen walking down the mock up stairs for the Saint Louis Gateway Arch, image by Balthazar Korab, 1950s

002 Ten Nautilus Construct Vardar River View With Ngo Ccn Image Joel Tettamanti

TEN, Nautilus, Vardar river, with NGO CCN, image Joel Tettamanti

100 Nepal Thame Monks Residence Simone Bossi 116

100 Nepal Thame Monks Residence Simone Bossi 117

009 Bed In The Corner In Dinarska House Image By F Skerlep 1954

The corner stair in Dinarska house, image by F. Skerlep, 1954

006 Ten Nautilus Construct Bottom Stage With Ngo Ccn Image Joel Tettamanti

031 Ten Lager Eugster Belgrade Drawing Of The Gallery Kopie

015 Ten Lager Eugster Belgrade Gallery Ceiling

The Gardens. This is a big country, carved up into small pieces. A vast island divided and sold. Its boundaries were once invisible, but now they are marked out by electric wire, white fences and brick walls, sizzling black tar roads and green lawns. Within each of these parcels of land sits a house and behind the house a rectangular patch of dirt and grass, partitioned on all sides by a rotting, paling fence or a wall of anodised aluminium or brick. Within his designated allotment every man, as they say, is a Lord, and his home is his castle. It was within one of these curious allotments that I grew. There are cities in which the children play in the streets, bearing witness to the world passing by, but ours was not one of them. We knew nothing of the city streets, visible to us only as blurred snapshots collected from car windows. We roamed through far more private geographies, and from within them, hidden, we built worlds. For the suburban backyard, though it may constitute a meagre prize for the aspirational man, is a landscape more than vast enough for a child. The blank facades of our houses (wrought-iron-covered row cottages, brick bungalows or creaking weatherboard piles) were all of them gateways and triumphal arches. They bore silent witness to our backyard happenings, masking them from the empty and sometimes hostile roadways. Behind these architectural masks, every backyard of every allotment had its own distinct, sometimes even wildly opposing character. The garden I remember best was the one in which we kept hens. We collected their eggs religiously every morning until one sorry day, upon entering the henhouse, we found them all dead; limp bundles of feathers strewn about the straw, succumbed to a virus or perhaps the viciousness of a neighbourhood cat. Reaching over the ill-fated chicken coop there were mulberry and mango trees upon which we would climb to pick the ripe fruit, pushing our heads through the crown of the foliage to survey our domain: a sea of red tiled roofs simmering in the heat, with their tangle of spidery antennae and satellite dishes black and sharp against the sky. There was a tree house, built by a clever uncle, in which we could play house, spy or hide. There was a concrete whitewashed pond full of fat carp inherited from previous tenants and a rusting iron pavilion grown over with vines of jasmine. There was a vegetable garden planted by my mother and a grassy lawn crawling with snails and slugs that was home to dandelions, a rabbit hutch and a three-storey rat’s cage. There was a trampoline under the twisting boughs of the mulberry tree – a present from our father – its black canvas stained purple and black from the crushed pulp of the rotting mulberries that would fall from the trees in January. Blanketed by the sickly fecund odour of that ripe fruit, we would lie languid in the wet heat waiting for the evening rain, staring up at the sky through the mulberry leaves, dreaming of our inevitable moment of escape.  All of this went on behind the edifice of our rambling pile of bricks, in the middle of a typical inner-city neighbourhood in which there were countless houses like ours, each one its own undisclosed domain. To be invited to the home of a friend was to be offered the delicious privilege of entering into theirs. Some backyards were run down and some pristine, depending on the family. Some had pools, some only backyard sheds filled with funnel-web spiders, power tools and secrets. The Greek families ripped up all the grass, paved over it with terracotta and stones and planted olive trees. In their own Mediterranean courtyard, our neighbours kept goats for the slaughter. Animal skins were dried on suburban rooftops. Holes were dug and covered over with palm leaves for the ceremonial roasting of pigs, the smell of cooking flesh mingling with rising smoke from the palms and the raised but muffled voices of angry or laughing relatives. Other gardens were more picturesque. Plants were allowed to grow wild; swings were hung from the boughs of trees; wind chimes suspended from sagging wooden porches. In one garden there were turtles, owned by a girl with a hole in her heart, who clambered freely over the rocks and stones arranged ornamentally by her father. She would pass the turtles to me roughly; their heads and arms would retract in fear as she, too small and weak for her age, whispered to me through the palings of the fence between us. One summer’s day, our band of vagrants discovered a new kind of adventure: a hole in the paling fence, where the wooden slats had been pushed aside and skewered on their rusty nails. We could duck through it one by one and find ourselves, uninvited, in one of these new topographies – wholly different from the one we knew so well. Upon getting the measure of it we soon discovered, over a brick wall choked with vines, that there were more. We scaled the walls, and found that each backyard we penetrated constituted a parallel world of identical dimension and reach to the one before it, albeit with an entirely new set of obstacles. We pushed further onward, leaping barriers or crawling underneath them, sometimes only to find ourselves in hostile territory crawling with enemies: big strangers, looming red-faced out from behind dark wire screen doors, from whom we would have to bolt; squealing and panting, flying from property to property until we reached the safety of our home turf. It was only much later, when I began to study architecture, that I noticed the radical nature of these earlier acts of re-appropriation. In the modern city, the backyard supports great variation precisely because it forms a contract between the individual and society; protecting the inner life of its inhabitants behind the generic face it presents to the world. It is in fact through the simple repeated typology of the backyard that man rediscovers and nurtures his own particularity: those private rituals, habits and desires he does not wish to share. But in paying no mind to the boundaries that were designed to commodify them, we unknowingly gave our backyards the status that had once been reserved for the public street. We subverted the backyard’s private function, and in some sense, we also turned the street inward in order to revive it. All those collapsing, cobweb covered rear porches became our street fronts, and the gardens became our public forum. We had no respect for the boundaries between one and the next, but of course we did not know that it was upon these boundaries that our country had been founded – on the very idea that land could be owned, bought and sold. We only thought of the excitement of carrying out a simple but thrilling act of transgression. I often imagine what it would mean to take an exploit like this to its logical conclusion. For example, it is hard to picture a more seductive scenario for my city’s suburbs that that in which all the fences between all of those rectangular plots of land, sitting back to back and side to side, are finally removed to form one continuous and interconnected outdoor room. The formerly isolated backyards, utterly ignorant of one another, would then be expanded into one great, intricate interior: an urban garden within which the life of the city would be revived and scattered about, as if from some fertile wellspring. This endless green belt would form a series of intricate secondary passageways through the inner-city suburbs and soon, people would begin to use them in order to get from one part of the city to another, imbuing them with public life. But what would be the consequence of this urban inversion? There are, of course, infinite possibilities. But perversely, the one I always return to (perhaps, naturally, the only one I can imagine) is the one in which history repeats itself in unendingly similar forms: The one in which what has happened before tends to happen again, as the momentum of collective human action swells back and forth like a tide. This is the scenario in which, increasingly choked with traffic, the Great Backyard I describe becomes choked with traffic, then steadily paved over and cultivated for ease of movement. Back doors become front doors, as the former streets are neglected. The first tangles of weeds begin to push up out of the cracks in the asphalt of these old roads and highways, now relegated to left over, nowhere places. Slowly, the unstoppable green encroaches over the car yards, gutter kerbs and disused driveways, and the asphalt lies in ruins. Offended by this unruly and dilapidated scene and incensed by the loss of their formerly protected garden oases, the people of the city feel compelled to remove the rubble and tame these now wild suburban streets, planting flowers and trees to mark out space for their children to play. Inevitably, as the residents begin to order this neglected land, it becomes desirable for speculation. Its value increases, almost certainly leading to ownership disputes and demarcation deals between the different families, all whom instinctively desire a slice of it. Slowly, steadily, methodically, the fences go up once again.

Written by Emma Letizia Jones.

020 Ten Republic Zagreb Rooms The Gardens Students Dora Sipina And Frane Stancic Drawing Workshop 2014

TEN, Re:public, The Gardens, students Dora Sipina and Frane Stancic, 2014

053 Ten Dobrovic Stitch Student Jana Kulic With Annotations By Nemanja Zimonjic With Ljiljana Blagojevic And Milica Lopicic Drawing Workshop 2017

Stitch, Vila Dobrovic, unbuilt, student Jana Kulic, with Lj. Blagojevic and M. Lopicic, BINA, 2017

054 Anton Webern Concerto For Nine Instruments Op 24 Page 4 Of Score With Annotations By Glenn Gould 1948 The Glenn Gould Archive

Anton Webern, Concerto for Nine Instruments Op 24 Page 4 Of Score, with annotations by Glenn Gould, 1948, The Glenn Gould Archive

Ten Dobrovic Water Students Jovana Kovacevic And Stefan Ilic With Ljiljana Blagojevic And Milica Lopicic Drawing Workshop 2017

Ten Dobrovic Landscape Student Myriam Marti With Ljiljana Blagojevic And Milica Lopicic Drawing Workshop 2017

031 Ten Lager Eugster Belgrade Drawing Of The Gallery Kopie

034 Ten Lager Eugster Belgrade Harbour With Crane

TEN, Lager, Eugster Belgrade, Harbour

079 Ten Dobrovic Textile H1 Students Marina Krcalic And Nikola Kasic With Ljiljana Blagojevic And Milica Lopicic Drawing Workshop 2017

Textile, Vila Vesna, built, students Marina Krcalic and Nikola Kasic, with Lj. Blagojevic and M. Lopicic, BINA, 2017

080 Ten Dobrovic Textile H2 Students Marina Krcalic And Nikola Kasic With Ljiljana Blagojevic And Milica Lopicic Drawing Workshop 2017

Textile, Vila Dobrovic, unbuilt, students Marina Krcalic and Nikola Kasic, with Lj. Blagojevic and M. Lopicic, BINA, 2017

017 Ten Republic Zagreb Rooms The Island Students Irena Bakic And Mirna Udovcic Drawing Workshop 2014

TEN, Re:public, The Island, students Irena Bakic and Mirna Udovcic, 2014

The Island. first there were borders, an edge clearly defined by sea or an ordinary line. then the ice melted, the islands came, although we cannot claim anything for certain. one had to run from danger, and it always came from the sea, that is why the first settlements appeared in islands’ innards. much later, the sea became a place of leisure, one had to came as close to it as the unscraped grounds allowed. the territory was conquered gradually just like the lichen conquers trees. with vine plantations people cultivated the soil, with stone walls they prevented the outpour of earth. on the other side of the sea towns grew around fortresses mostly built near rivers or those artificial creeks which were embracing something resembling sharp stone dentures. the edge of the town was itself an island, a water barrier between the folk and the conquerors. if you try to step over the edge, you can check whether the law of gravity is still in place and whether Archimedes was alone in that bathtub. after the water’s edge was abolished, towns ceased to be islands and started spreading in a parasite-like manner. suburbs became the edge that represents the border, the form akin to an island. the island body has an asphalt spine and it ascends in the middle of the forest. humidity is on the side less sunny, opposite are the poisoned fields of soil, but that is the side you are certainly not going to. you think about that soil. an excavator’s bucket rests on it too. underneath it a bear fell asleep last year and woke up within the foundations of a house. such is the nature of the island, unstable just like suburbs. they too are sketched by someone. between the forest, the poisoned soil and the asphalt there are always people beneath reinforced concrete slabs. the night before last i saw the excavator leaving that basket in some meadow in suburbia and abandoning a bit later the evening in the direction opposite to the rise of thick trees. abandonment is a decision, insecure like urban development plans with no room for meadows. cities today have no edge, no border within which one could throw an imagined cannon ball, no inland points that make for ferry destinations. there is enough breadth within which you will be in nobody’s way. an island has remained an island, a metaphor of the city, permanently encircled by a border within which you cannot go unnoticed, and where would you even go if there was no border? worlds collapse because of one misinterpreted message, and it makes absolutely no difference where you are headed. nothing is preventing you from stepping out anymore. the island does not embrace, the ice can be found only in glasses, glue traps for mice are in attics and, you are certain, there is nothing that slows down. seasons are safely changing. gardens are neatly trimmed. the island is a suburb, should the city persistently spread enough, it will become one liquid body. people will remain beneath reinforced concrete slabs because optical cables will securely transmit news on happiness and fear. there will no longer be edges, borders will be defined by the softness of our skin. we will neither have to deduct nor add. we have become islands. the only important thing is from which side you approach us. bloodLINE. by darko separović

100 Nepal Thame Monks Residence Simone Bossi 107 For Movie

TEN, Monks Residence, Kohare, film by David Stoeger

100 Nepal Thame Monks Residence Simone Bossi 122

100 Nepal Thame Monks Residence Simone Bossi 112

100 Nepal Thame Monks Residence Simone Bossi 103

100 Nepal Thame Monks Residence Simone Bossi 104

Leo Fabrizio Ten Swissartawards Lfb3675

TEN, Study (Studiolo), Swiss Art Award 2018, Basel, photo by Leo Fabrizio

Leo Fabrizio Ten Swissartawards Lfb3721

055 Ten Republic Motovun Topography Students Mia Kos And Elena Tikvic Drawing Workshop 2015

TEN, Re:public, Topography, students Mia Kos and Elena Tikvic, 2015

056 Ten Republic Motovun Common Ground Students Marina Krcalic And Nikola Kasic Drawing Workshop 2015

TEN, Re:public, Common Ground, students Marina Krcalic and Nikola Kasic, 2015

014 Ten Monks Residence Structural Drawing

027 Ten Lager Eugster Belgrade Gallery Splitting Wall

028 Ten Lager Eugster Belgrade Gallery Ceiling

TEN, Lager, Eugster Belgrade

100 Nepal Thame Monks Residence Simone Bossi 118

100 Nepal Thame Monks Residence Simone Bossi 117

057 Ten Republic Zagreb Rooms The Continent Students Mia Kos And Roman Krajcarz Drawing Workhop 2014

TEN, Re:public, The Continent, students Mia Kos and Roman Krajcarz, 2014

"drawing oneself into place“. If the new language of images were used differently, it would, through its use, confer a new kind of power. Within it we could begin to define our experiences more precisely in areas where words are inadequate. (Seeing comes before words.) Not only personal experience, but also the essential historical experience of our relation to the past: that is to say the experience of seeking to give meaning to our lives, of trying to understand the history of which we can become the active agents.” John Berger, Ways of Seeing. re:public For Re:public, the city is the centre of attention. Their work calls for a the renewal of the way we regard the city. Their name reflects the orginal derivation of republic— Res Publica—that which belongs to the people, the public realm, our common ground. In the summer of 2014 Re:public held a week-long drawing exercise in Zagreb as part of an on-going programme of teaching and research. This exhibition and its catalogue bring together a selection of the drawings set in a wider cultural context: seven drawings, each paired with a text and an art reference associated with the subject it depicts. Together, they create a space in which they can be considered alongside one another for the first time. In the drawing exercise, the representational technique they chose to employ was the oblique drawing, a mode of drawing with a long and varied history. Each drawing, made by pairs of students, used the cadastral map for its basis. Thus, the exact geometry and relations between the elements were preserved while the drawings were given a vertical dimension. parallel archetypes Between the monuments of a city and its well-defined places; between its squares, streets and districts there is a kind of space that is usually only subliminally registered. These are places that to many might seem dislocated, unremarkable— or they might be places that remain unseen, obscured by  their location or by their ubiquity. These are spaces that are  in-between or throughout what we normally consider to be places: spaces that exist in parallel, alongside the familiar.  These spaces are part of the subject at hand: but Re:public sees them not as a kind of exotica, as curiosities, but rather as offering a complementary series of archetypical figures that are part of the language of the city—our common heritage, our common culture. These figures speak to themes within art and literature, and it is these threads they hope to re-establish. In isolating these spaces one must choose where to begin and end, to judge their extents, and to depict their edges and thresholds, carefully observing these aspects. In making islands of them, considering them by themselves, removed, at least visually, from the topography in which they are normally embedded, one is able to assume a new way of seeing them. A way of seeing that can then be shared. These spaces are fundamentally architectural because they depend on precise geometry and the relationships between elements for their very character. This is why they carefully trace the territory that they enclose or include, and seek to represent them in a way that is not fanciful, but exacting and visionary. Drawing is a fundamental tool for architects and designers of all kinds. They see drawing as part of a common language with which architects might better speak to the world at large. Most powerfully, drawing can be allied with other arts, which is why they are bringing this set of drawings together with writing and works of art from elsewhere. To draw things selectively and carefully is an antidote to the illusion of omniscience that GIS-based mapping promises, as well as the overwhelming volume of information such mapping involves. The mode of drawing also reaffirms the essential subjective character of the image of the city. In the act of drawing, one is forced to make conscious choices about what to show and which methods and means to use. The ethical demand is, of course, that one aims to reveal rather than to obscure. One is liberated, however, in re-orienting and re-scaling the space depicted to show its true affinities and to enhance the potential of these archetypes. In recovering these spaces and placing them within this larger culture—marking out a wider territory—a shared vision begins to emerge, one that is capable of guiding our collective actions. a i m s Such archetypes, they argue, are a source of latent potential for the city today. Particular expressions of these, once reinterpreted and represented, can sustain a shared imagination and form the basis of specific concrete propositions, supporting the public imagination of the city itself. Why embark on such a project? A greater literacy of urban form would improve the quality of the discourse surrounding the city—an antidote to present object-oriented and solution-based fixations—glossy images of buildings serving the desires of everyone apart from the public itself. These modes of approaching the city are full of imagination, but they are not fanciful. This is both appropriate and powerful, for the world is pervaded by imagination, by human ideas and values, and requires our imagination, in turn, to fully interpret it. These modes include the speculative, the metaphorical, the associative. The mode of thought, however, is never obscured, but open to participation. The power of such modes of thought and production, centred around the act of drawing, may be capable of renewing our vision for the actuality and potential of places. In other words, they might help us draw ourselves into place, to find points of departure to act, to take an active part in the future of our civic life.

TEN, Re:public, Zagreb Rooms, Editorial Introduction with Philip Shelley, drawing workhop, 2014

Ten Lager Eugster Belgrade Harbour Site Drawing For Le Salon

001 Ten Le Salon Baugespann10X10X10 With Jan Eugster Image Joel Tettamanti

TEN, Le Salon, Baugespann 10x10x10m, with Jan Eugster, image by Joel Tettamanti

Ten Republic Zagreb Rooms Houses Of Giants Students Marina Krcalic And Nikola Kasic Drawing Workhop For Skopje 2014

TEN, Re:public, Houses Of Giants, students Marina Krcalic and Nikola Kasic, 2014

007 Joel Tettamanti Skopje Survey Facade Detail 2015

Joel Tettamanti, Skopje survey, 2015

Ten Study Swiss Art Award 2018 Winners Photo By Raffaela Endrizzi 05

Ten Study Swiss Art Award 2018 Winners 06

023 Ten Republic Motovun The Double Students Jure Bogdanic And Ariana Kun Drawing Workhop 2015

TEN, Re:public, The Double, students Jure Bogdanic and Ariana Kun, 2015

026 Ten Republic Motovun The Double Years Students Jure Bogdanic And Ariana Kun Drawing Workhop 2015 Kopie

Ten Le Salon Baugespann10X10X10 With Jan Eugster 01

032 Spacex 8 Long Exposure Of The Falcon 9 Crs 9 Launch Arc Landing 2016

Spacex 8, Long Exposure of the Falcon 9 Crs 9, launch arc, landing 2016

001 Ten Le Salon Baugespann10X10X10 With Jan Eugster Image Joel Tettamanti

TEN, Le Salon, Baugespann 10x10x10m, with Jan Eugster, image by Joel Tettamanti

002 Ten Nautilus Construct Vardar River View With Ngo Ccn Image Joel Tettamanti

TEN, Nautilus, Vardar river, with NGO CCN, image Joel Tettamanti

003 Ten Lager Eugster Belgrade Harbour Site Drawing

048 Ten Lager Eugster Belgrade Harbour

TEN, Lager, Eugster Belgrade, Harbour