A room is in a perpetual state of uncertainty. Constantly in revision, a room will exhibit hundreds of identities throughout its lifetime, each carefully curated to fit and make best use of its finite dimensions. A room’s capacity for memories however, does not abide by these dimensions. A room’s capacity for memories is infinite.
Inspired by Kunio Katō’s short film, La Maison en Petits Cubes, Memories from a 96 SF Room illustrates the ephemeral nature of architecture. Exploring the notion that the memories created within a room will forever live within its walls, Katō’s film delves into the impermanence of architecture and its relationship to memories.
Memories from a 96 SF Room is an extension of this idea, a recollection of memories from a room within my childhood home. Depicted as an ever-growing tower of memories wrapped tightly to its dimensions in scaffolding, this project is a reflection of my life. Encased in time, each level of this tower captures a fading snapshot from my memory—each level serving as an archive, preserving precious moments from my past. While others may enter this room and see it for its stained walls and worn carpet, what I see is the rooms that came before it. This room is a looming tower to me, an embodiment of the shifting landscape of my life. A room that had no clear program, it has been a space for many things— a space for celebration, imagination, mourning and today, remembering. What began as a room to shelter a crib, now houses an altar. As this room and what it has held has unknowingly surpassed its dimensions, it becomes an eternal invitation to revisit what came before it. While to others this room may simply be a 96 SF room, for me it is a living archive of my life.