
view from living room

closed back box

open back alternative
art . architecture . industrial design . photography













We are all familiar with the game, Tetris. Created in red Moscow in 1984, the game has infiltrated our culture as a basic building block (pun?) of gaming experience and parlance. Now, in 2010, Tetris has entered the field of nostalgic games, along with Pong (1972), Asteroids (1979), and Pac-man (1980). The game’s success is based on its simple game play combined with near infinite playability. While there are no goals, just points, the player is pushed to an increasing state of deconstruction. Much like Asteroids, Tetris presents us with one screen, one spatial frame, and introduces foreign elements into the space. If that space were to ever fill up completely, the game would be over. So, the goal of Tetris, is to prevent the construction of structure, by over rationalizing ‘random’ structural blocks. Then, what is left on screen is not a product of positive construction, but deconstruction, and the player is left with what he has failed to do.
This whole train of thought started from a small essay on Tetris by Katie Salen in Space, Time, Play. She offers the unique observation that, “[r]ather than the well-ordered grid Tetris players desperately seek, they face instead a highly original architecture composed solely of misstep and mistake1.” Salen seems to embrace this unique architecture that is created from a person’s mistakes in the game, while admitting the paradox it poses: people enjoy seeing an actual product of their labor. Personally, I find the ‘architecture’ I create while playing Tetris is very frustrating and unproductive. However, it is not wholly unlike the studio process. How much of a project is left on the cutting room floor, literally? How many analog and digital models does it take to create a space which embodies the qualities of ‘the idea’? What is architecture in the first place: the building or the space in it?
Too often, it seems as if most architectural projects are conceived in such a Tetris way. Original or not, space created by misstep and mistake, unrectified, is either illegible or unusable. Every once in a while, a successful architecture is created from the leftovers, but this is due to strategy rather than mistake. Like in Tetris, space is usually reserved for specific pieces, such as the long, straight one. If left merely to chance, a game of Tetris wouldn’t last very long. Only through the careful placement of pieces, can a gamer be successful. Misstep and mistake in Tetris is the domain of the unskilled an inexperienced. Is it the same way in architecture? It would seem so.
house in azeitao
How would a Tetris space be perceived? Would it be the stacking of programmatic elements in a haphazard way? Would the site be extruded vertically, inducing a skyscraper type dialogue? There are many buildings which come to mind that remind me of a Tetris game screen. Steven Holl’s Simmon’s Hall at MIT takes on a very digitized appearance, reminiscent of early dot matrix screens. However, the actual organization of the building has little to do with this discourse. Aires Mateus’s House in Azeitao in Portugal uses some of the ideas of constructing the negative, while retaining the usefulness of actual programmatic boxes. Instead of hiding these elements behind walls, the architect decided to use them and the space they create to shape the main living space, which becomes the negative of those positive elements. The main room is then reserved for the experience of filling a negative space, the experience of being that long, straight block, strategically reserved for when it’s needed.
negative/positive in plan/section
Shigeru Ban’s Naked House takes on some of these same qualities while being far less prescriptive. The whole house shell acts as a large scale, three dimensional Tetris game board, ready to be filled up with those annoying blocks. In the case of the Naked House, however, the user seems to be very successful at the game and minimal ‘constructed architecture’ is built, reserving the empty space for living and interaction.


