“THE LAST MAN ON EARTH” - Rite de Passage (2021) is a collection of letters written during a solitary residency on a remote island. A temporary and forced state of ‘radical individualism’ and isolation, becomes a tool to reflect and contemplate upon my surroundings, my role as an architect, and life in general. An exercise in being completely solipsistic. Time for a temporary disconnection from the Other. Time to take a step back and create a space for the Self. Time to be critical towards the way we shape our environment and make our architecture. A search for the individual perspective in the ever-changing dynamics of the Anthropocene.
A long period of lockdown and quarantine, resulting in isolation and solitude, formed the basis for the start of my master’s thesis; a daily renewed routine, little to no contact, few external impulses,... A disconnection arises: time became an illusion, my spatial life is limited, reality is shared through a digital screen, surviving becomes the new living. The daily routine becomes a new frontier as we all navigated through a frozen world. A single perspective became our only window, and the only thing we can kiss is the sky. How do I start a master’s thesis in this state? How do I activate myself?
I make a manual; a guide to activate myself, an introductory piece. I call it: “OPENING SCENE OF A POSSIBLE WORLD: A GUIDE ON HOW TO (RE)ENTER REALITY AND BECOME CLOSER TO THE CREATIVE SELF AND THE WHOLE” (through a process of wandering, self-discovery, and a state of temporary ‘ Radical Individualism’). It is a naive and radical manifesto in which I plea for a certain attitude towards our environment and view of the world. Through a temporary form of ‘radical individualism’ and isolation, I give myself the chance to get more in touch with creativity and ‘the real’. I distance myself from the known, distance from comfort, the routine, distance from the familiar, family, friends,... Distance from the (educational) structures imposed by parents and teachers, which hinder us in finding a new order. Distance from a helpline, distance from a guideline, distance from you. Distance from myself?
Time to become independent, time to follow a different track. An exercise in being completely solipsistic. Time for a temporary disconnection from the Other. Time to create a space for the Self. A search for the individual perspective. Time to remove any obstacle. The future image of the self as the cornerstone of the process of self-creation. Natural growth.
The manifesto tells me: you can read and learn a lot about certain things, but real knowledge comes from your own experience. Time to activate myself! With the manifesto in mind, I make the decision to impose on myself a state of temporary “radical individualism”. I am undergoing a metamorphosis. I put on the mask of ‘The Last Man on Earth’. A solipsistic and existential state in which I; think, create and write. A state in which I am. I seclude myself, go live on an island, and build my own house: “The House Where Man’s Irreducible Solitude Dwells.”
The house as a laboratory.
The island as a breeding ground.
Solitude as a gateway.
The island as a breeding ground.
Solitude as a gateway.
My stay on the island could be best described as a Rite of Passage (Rite de Passage). This period comes with a change in social status; the transition from ‘student in architecture’ to ‘professional architect’. A pivotal and important moment for critical self-reflection and positioning.The term ‘Rite de Passage’ was introduced by the French anthropologist Arnold van Gennep (1873-1957) in his ‘Les Rites de Passage’ from 1909.
According to Van Gennep, there are three stages in which a rite of passage develops: separation, liminality (transition), and reintegration. The first phase, separation, involves symbolic behavior in which the individual is separated from a previously fixed social status. The old status is first ‘destroyed’ in preparation for the new one. During the middle stage, the “traveler” is stripped of any manifestation of its rank or role and enters a kind of “liminal” status between old and future identities. A liminal status is an unaccepted or undefined role within a society. Liminality is usually short-lived. Someone who is in a liminal state is usually part of a transition between two accepted roles. During a rite of passage, people do not have to behave according to the norms of their environment. On the other hand, they are also often unable to participate in life in their society in that status until the liminality is lifted. One is between two worlds, on the threshold of a transition. This phas is often compared to a (ritual) death, or a stay in the darkness of the womb awaiting birth. In the final phase, the ritual subject crosses this threshold and re-enters society in his new social or religious role.
According to Van Gennep, there are three stages in which a rite of passage develops: separation, liminality (transition), and reintegration. The first phase, separation, involves symbolic behavior in which the individual is separated from a previously fixed social status. The old status is first ‘destroyed’ in preparation for the new one. During the middle stage, the “traveler” is stripped of any manifestation of its rank or role and enters a kind of “liminal” status between old and future identities. A liminal status is an unaccepted or undefined role within a society. Liminality is usually short-lived. Someone who is in a liminal state is usually part of a transition between two accepted roles. During a rite of passage, people do not have to behave according to the norms of their environment. On the other hand, they are also often unable to participate in life in their society in that status until the liminality is lifted. One is between two worlds, on the threshold of a transition. This phas is often compared to a (ritual) death, or a stay in the darkness of the womb awaiting birth. In the final phase, the ritual subject crosses this threshold and re-enters society in his new social or religious role.
My stay on the island, the liminal phase, becomes a search for what is important in architecture. Perhaps it is better not to speak of architecture as such, but of ‘life’ and ways of ‘dealing with life’. Design as an attitude. Designing an attitude. To be completely driven by listening to the world, which is not about listening with your ears. It’s a much more complex way of listening. It is literally observing the invisible in the visible. Observation and empathy with life and nature, these are the real starting points.
The isolation allows me to concentrate on my idiosyncratic world views, which I report in images and writing. A game between contemplating and creating. In a sense, these are messages to myself: admonition, self-reflection, putting things into perspective,...intended to better understand myself and others. The landscape and my surroundings form the breeding ground for my world of thoughts. I work from an observation post where I can contemplate the world in peace and seclusion and come to harmony with nature. And this not from a nostalgic romance, but from a continuous reflection on how I want and can relate to my environment and the world.
This master’s thesis is an invitation to a walk in my world, in which I, a student of architecture, experience the world and my position in it, as a mystery. I ask questions, make suggestions, search for, leave marks...
I’ll see you on the other side.
THIS IS NOT GOODBYE
This is my last morning here. It is time to return and take off the mask of The Last Man on Earth. Where I exactly return to is unclear. Returning home? It might feel like coming home, but I will be entering through the backdoor.
I went to live on an island and I became the Last Man on Earth. I wanted to live more consciously, more sentient. I was looking for a way to activate myself, to confront and contest only with what is essential and fundamental; in my environment, in my surroundings, in architecture, in life. To look for silence in the age of noise. To find out whether I could not learn what life itself was supposed to teach me. We seem to be living in the shadow of reality, and all that is real seems to be in the far corners of the universe, somewhere out there, behind the farthest star.
For just a moment, the island became a new home. There is always that question: how to treat the land well? Shall I build like our ancestors, to last forever? Or like the First People, to leave no trace? To not betray this land with my carelessness or expediency. By building on the island, I created a shelter for myself. Is the act of building an act of self-protection? In order to be responsive to the vulnerability of living beings and living systems, I had to become exposed to responsibility, and to the possibility of intense suffering as well as to the possibilities of serenity, joy, and the feeling of belonging...
Run from what’s comfortable. Forget safety.
Live where you fear to live.
Destroy your reputation.
- Rumi
I deliberately choose the isolation in order to be able to concentrate on my introspective world views of which I report in images and writing. A divergent strategy before the convergent strategy. For it to appear, I need to disappear. The purpose of this adventure was not to find answers. The purpose of this adventure was not to escape from society, nor was it to explore the wild and untouched nature, but to link whirling nature observations and philosophical contemplation to a plea for a better society. A plea for better architecture. What do I want to achieve with it? Especially more insight, first of all for myself.
I started in the micro-cosmos, with diverse feelings and thoughts, trying to describe, trying to develop. The theory that will evolve will be true and real as it is personally connected. Time for a duet between the character and the circumstances. As I wore the mask of The Last Man on Earth, I became ‘double’, I am my character and at the same time, I disappear behind it and my discourse. I was the paradox of the writer in isolation; he who writes within himself only to break out and reveal to others. I became the architect who mocks the world which he is clearly a part of.
This is not a nomadic experience, I’m not passing through. I wanted to have my roots in the island, to reach the dept of the island. To understand the island, how it works, how I work here, to build a house, and that’s quite the opposite of the traditional meaning of nomadic. I had to completely trust in my own experiences. Knowing becomes more than reading books about it. It’s about seeing, hearing, touching, and listening to every vibration. To open myself up to all impulses and become the knowledge seeker in a constant wandering mood. To live with attention and study every detail that seems worthwhile. Time to absorb the knowledge and remove any obstacle. The future image of the Self as the cornerstone of the process.
I am an island
And I’m not relying
Don’t tell me who I am, Who I am I am telling you
I am an island
I learned that it is nice to be able to draw a logical plan or section, to create an interesting composition, to make a design that fits all the criteria,... but it is much more glorious to edit and adapt the atmosphere, the medium through which we see and feel and experience and architecture can do that. Architecture is more than just a physical dimension “Influencing the quality of the day is the highest of all arts.” I strive to do that as an architect, as it would be the most meaningful to me. The island sharpened me, to get more fingers behind the darkness of my questions. To look and experience. Design is not about the idea or the concept, but it is fundamentally related to the knowledge of everyday life. You design your idea with that knowledge. Designing, and therefore this life, is eating fish together and looking at the bones and skin of the fish, trying to understand how a skin can bend and expand. How the shades are changing and a building becomes a body. Observation and empathy with life, these are the real starting points. To become completely driven by this listening to the world, which is not about a listening with your ears. It is a much more complex kind of listening. It is literally observing the invisible in the visible. To give form, as a poet and a technician. In the end, it is almost not me who designs, but life itself.
Perhaps in life, we should all be able to make our own house, like a bird is perfectly capable of doing so. Perhaps the making of a house shouldn’t be solely for the architect. I want architecture that makes people aware of life, of the true meaning of life. Perhaps the architecture of the future should be less comforting. I believe we live in a time where we don’t have the luxury to be comfortable anymore. We need to be activated, and the house could be the activator. Architecture needs to create awareness, not make us oblivious of the real and true. Architecture should help us towards a better future. and stimulate a better life, not push us backward and put us in a state of numbness. We need it differently. Time for a critical rethinking of the way in which we consider our environment, and reformulate what the role of our profession is in response to these ever-changing dynamics.
I want my house to have no lights at night, so I can experience the darkness in the way it was intended. I want my house to have nature. Real nature and not something nice ‘out there’. I want my house to rot over time to remind me of my own mortality. I want my house to show me where the water is coming from and where it’s going. I want my house to be able to give a home to another being. I want a house of which I’m not the true owner. I want a house where it becomes something meaningful to change rooms, to step outside. I want my house to give me the opportunity to provide for my own food, and take care of my own waste. I want my house to have a flaw. I want my house to be in dialogue and a constant state of communication, not a monologue and purely utilization. I want my house to offer no space for trivial and unnecessary possessions. I want my house to hear the frogs at night. I want a house where the falling of rain becomes something fruitful and meaningful. I want the remains of my house to carry potential, even over 100 years from now. I want a house where I can see the stars at night.
Dear Last Man on Earth, this is not a goodbye. As I’m taking off my mask, you leave a mark somewhere deep in me. You and the island taught me what I needed to learn and together we created this new human being, ready to take flight in this awaiting world. You will resonate through my future actions. I am grateful for the Island, everything it taught me, and the tools it provided. I am grateful for all the experiences, the sleepless nights, the lonely moments, the beautiful moments. I am grateful for the freedom you gave me. My freedom! Nobody can take this away from me.
I was the first person here,
And The Last Man on the Earth
