Oliver Maclean

With @robethughes @aggemarten For @gadigal_contemporary @charles_curtin @guille_pik Images 1&5 @hamishmcintosh

With @robethughes @aggemarten For @gadigal_contemporary

Winima Guwugu [to make close by], is a small-scale art space growing from within John Andrews’ Octagon. It is a palimpsest of local contemporary art, where artworks are devised, exhibited and reimagined directly in the museum. Small institutions enjoy more immediate contexts. Winima Guwugu is serious about the Parramatta scene, it will not operate at the corporate scale à la Powerhouse Parramatta across the street. As an independent institution, Guwugu will become a laboratory - experimentation through the ideas and expressions of local artists in Parramatta and Western Sydney, informed by the people and adapting as time moves on. Informed by Pontus Hultén’s idea of the museum as available space, Winima Guwugu offers curators a gallery and artists a studio. The custodian takes no leadership; instead, they manage. The small simple interventions of Guwugu allow for locals to engage directly in the construction of the museum. Expanding and contracting with ease. Not overly prescriptive, they make their own claim. Setting up processes for the empty room - bringing order to the otherwise chaotic artist studio. Unordered creativity creates little, structured creativity repeats itself - Guwugu will operate in between.

With @carlcoolguy42 For @studiongrounds @kth_arkitektur LKAB [Work]shop does not propose an entirely new object on the site, but rather a densification of what once stood across the harbour. Like an inverted Ship of Theseus, the building is composed of aged components that, through disassembly and renewal, appear newly made—yet remain deeply rooted in their origin. From the monumental to the minute, the slow deconstruction continues inside the [Work]shop, taking the ever-growing catalogue of redundant materials from LKAB and transforming them into their base components for later use. Its centripetal arrangement subtly averts its gaze from the operative harbour. Elements of the depot seep outward, forming a tactile and visible repository both within and about the perimeter. The two skillion roofs form a shelter for vehicles, materials and deliveries, on either side of the central working courtyard.

With @carlcoolguy42 For @studiongrounds @kth_arkitektur LKAB [Work]shop does not propose an entirely new object on the site, but rather a densification of what once stood across the harbour. Like an inverted Ship of Theseus, the building is composed of aged components that, through disassembly and renewal, appear newly made—yet remain deeply rooted in their origin. From the monumental to the minute, the slow deconstruction continues inside the [Work]shop, taking the ever-growing catalogue of redundant materials from LKAB and transforming them into their base components for later use. Its centripetal arrangement subtly averts its gaze from the operative harbour. Elements of the depot seep outward, forming a tactile and visible repository both within and about the perimeter. The two skillion roofs form a shelter for vehicles, materials and deliveries, on either side of the central working courtyard.

Our building begins in the late Nineties, during the deconstruction of the Høybanen. Four gigantic concrete columns once soared above the ground below. But the needs of industry move on, the material processing moved underground, and the railway came down. We imagine a purposeful deconstruction. An alternate reality in which these monumental fragments were not discarded, but catalogued, cared for, and reintroduced into public life. This project does not propose an entirely new object on the site, but rather a densification of what once stood across the harbour. A material cycle begins to emerge. A shift in scales. The building is a remnant of the past, which can be encountered up close and understood. From the monumental to the minute, the slow deconstruction continues inside the [Work]shop, taking the ever-growing catalogue of redundant materials from LKAB and transforming them into their base components for later use. We began the process with a logical, rapid experimentation of ‘standard’ assemblies. Taking typical warehouse forms and constructing them with our at times atypical components. The monsters arose from taking the ‘standard’ assemblies and arranging them in a more deliberate, architectural manner. Realising the monumentality, the folds, the alignments, and the lack thereof. The site is an open-air junk yard at the edge of the harbour. A waterfront is dominated by industry, it is for machines, processing and logistics, not for people. The building looks out to both the [former] Høybanen and LKAB’s [current] port. However, its centripetal arrangement subtly averts its gaze from the operative harbour. Elements of the depot seep outward, forming a tactile and visible repository both within and about the perimeter. The two skillion roofs form a shelter for vehicles, materials and deliveries, on either side of the central working courtyard.

With @carlcoolguy42 For @studiongrounds @kth_arkitektur

With @carlcoolguy42 For @studiongrounds @kth_arkitektur

We found a fascination for the Ofotbanen, its building up and taking down, its domestic effects as an infrastructural effort, its volatility and permanence. We have investigated four moments along the line, both physical and temporal. We have documented its construction, human experience, deconstruction, and remnants. The Ofotbanen stretches from the border at Riksgränsen to the Port of Narvik - having previously travelled under the title Malmbanan from Stockholm through Boden and Kiruna. We also began a questioning as to how we comprehend that which no longer exists? And what we should do with its traces? The means of comprehension is seen as highly influential. As with Piranesi’s map of Rome, the axonometric is a synthesised representations of the known and the unknown. When working solely with archival material, knowledge is inherently incomplete, and the task becomes one of filling these gaps. The process was one of push and pull—asking, questioning, and revising. The final result is an amalgamation of the known, the inferred, and the purely speculative. The scanner does not understand space as we do. It perceives points in space in relation to one another and itself. It perceives everything as flat, one dimensional. Together assuming surface. It gives an illusion of volume, and begins to question what volume is. The internal scan of the train was used as a base - but exploded. The faux-volume exposed. It shows the point cloud’s understanding of space as a collection of surfaces, both known and unkown, perceived and unpercieved. The drawing is infinitely flat, as is the point cloud. But it infers volume in its seams and tabs. Through the fold we begin to percieve space.

To Chill Photography @hamishmcintosh For @mori.lewisham @opportunites_bast @_bastage With @bennhiggins__ @_._t_t_._ @tw___ao @g080853fs

To Chill For @mori.lewisham @opportunites_bast @_bastage With @bennhiggins__ @_._t_t_._ @tw___ao @g080853fs

A place to chill. Fabricated by design. Two thin brick walls are pulled tight by ratchet straps. Together they support plumbing fixtures and a sheet of blue canvas. An umbrella provides shade and two more bricks make space for a beer to sit. For @mori.lewisham @opportunites_bast @_bastage With @bennhiggins__ @_._t_t_._ @tw___ao @g080853fs