Five Things

So, if RISD were to design and construct a student center. What are the five indespensible elements that would be necessarry for it's survival and viability?

I should start with this: Over the passed couple of weeks I have finally been able to begin to answer the question, 'What do I want from my education that I am not getting?'. Or to put if more pointedly, 'When considering the obsence amount I am paying for tuition, where is RISD falling short?'.

Some of my grievances are: That I can't go to a school run dining area for anything resembling a nutritious, fresh, grown-up meal, nor can I eat it somewhere that doesn't smell like a junior-high school cafeteria. I'm a grown-ass individual that pays a whole bunch of money to be here, don't I deserve fine dining experiences?

That I am trapped at a desk the size of a bathroom sink, elbow to elbow with others trapped at desks the size of a bathroom sink, and expected to produce inspired, well-crafted projects.

That I have to pay exorbitant prices for prints in studio.

That I am not getting the forward thinking, cutting-edge education that was promised by the RISD website and brochure.

The ability to move freely (in an academic sense) and design the curriculum that best serves my educational desires.

So, with these points in mind (and sometimes not) a successful student center should be equipped with the five following elements:

1. A dining area not resembling in appearance or odor a junior high cafeteria that serves grown-up food. That they serve alcohol would be an added bonus.

2. Student services offices: academic advising (for our self-designed curriculum), OPE, OSL, GSA, UGSA.

3. Music venue (with a bar).

4. A proper bookstore.

5. Both indoor and outdoor spaces for gathering and interacting.

In closing, we all know a campus bar would be killer, but I'm not sure the student center is the place for it.

Messy writing...disorganized

Community happens at many scales. For me, community happens first in the studio and includes those students that I work with directly, discussing problems and working out solutions (or more problems). To a lesser degree, I find some sense of community within RISD at large. At a larger scale, within the city of Providence, I sense the community a little less. I believe the problem for RISD lies in our (in)ability to navigate these different scales of community.

I would like to say first that I will make certain generalizations pertaining to my own experience at RISD. These generalizations may indicate problems within the community that affect me, or problems with me that affect the community (or my perception of community).

I would like to start by talking about the immediate community, the few people that we (I) spend the most time with. For many of us (RISD students) this means our studio. Jacobs offers what she thinks are “the most important habits of thought,” referring to cities. I think they are valuable to the smaller scale community as well. The first important habit of thought is “to think about processes.” It is important to understand that relationships are more complex than we might think. They are likely more complicated that we can comprehend, as they depend on their context for meaning, and context is relevant at infinitely many scales.

The second important habit of thought is “to work inductively.” [more thoughts later]

What creates community at RISD?

Providence? Do I find community in Providence? What is lacking? The larger the scale of reference of a community, I think, the more difficult it is for an individual to approach, or even comprehend. We naturally do this through the creation of smaller communities or groups, which may be constructed solely for the purpose of addressing the greater community, such as political groups.

How does the individual deal with these varying scales of community?

Do these different communities overlap? How? What is lacking?

What do we need to better connect existing communities? More overlap.

I think there are two issues that must be dealt with to solve problems with community. I think we lack overlapping space. Work space, crit space. When we feel disconnected, we make a cafeteria. This is fine, but it’s not enough. A small space in the RISD store to sit and read books is fine as well, but it is a simple solution to a complex problem. I think a place to work with students from other departments is needed.

The second issue that concerns me is the lack of overlap of our theoretical spaces. I think this is the space that will help us build community. Of course, this is a complicated problem. How do you bring students together from various departments to talk about their work in a way that connects them to other students? The problem is in its likelihood to fail. This is the case with all complex problems. That is to say, it may not always work to bring students from varying disciplines together to discuss their work, especially if they don’t have a common background, a common training, and a common jargon. However, I think it would be invaluable for students to better understand our parallels as artists and designers, and probably worth suffering some failed attempts. Our disciplines are becoming ever more specialized in the name of efficiency, and I mean efficiency in terms of economy. Perhaps we could benefit from some redundancy.

“It was early realized by such planning theorists as Stein and Bauer that preplanned shopping centers within cities must also be monopolistic or semimonopolistic, or else the statistics would not predict, and the city would go on behaving with dark and foreboding irrationality.”

Kite Day

Kite Day is a day-long event celebrating Springtime and Community, and advocating urban open space. It takes place during a selected day in April, National Kite Month. At the selected site, all will be invited to fly their own kite. A number of white kites will be distributed during the weeks preceding the event, and there will be a number on hand the day of the event. Kites will also be used a advertisement with all event info and instructions printed directly on them. These kites will also have an area on which the participant will be asked to fill in the blank ‘OPEN SPACE IS ‘. The kites will be white. The messages will be black. They will be individual, but of the same language. By delivering kites and instructions to them directly, local educational institutions such as New Urban Arts ,Hope High School, and Vartan Gregorian Elementary will be invited to participate directly.

The program of the event will be kept intentionally diverse, there will be areas to decorate the kites, refreshments, and possibly a band. The aim of the event to create a moment of pause where members of the community may come together with a common interest. The act of kite-flying elicits many nostalgic memories for us, it carries with it connotations of Springtime and rebirth. It is light and playful, yet the visual poetry of the sight of tens (or hundreds) of kites being flown in unison amongst the thrust of high rise buildings may serve to remind us of the preciousness of urban open space. It would be magical to see kites being flown in on a site where it will never again be possible, as the site will be inevitably be occupied by another building or parking structure. This project creates a direct connection between earth and sky and our inextricable connection to both as humans.

At the end of the of the event, the kites will be collected, organized, and with a written manifesto submitted to city hall as a document to the ongoing need for urban open space.

The Steel Yard

When I arrived I saw the yard filled with remnants of art works, industrial goodies and junk. Surprisingly, it didn’t feel messy. It felt very cozy. The canopy of steel beasm, chains, pulleys and wires felt comforting. I polked around for a few minutes until I ran into Nidal Fakhouri. There was another gentleman there taking photos with his new lens he had constructed out of parts from two lenses and a piece of light tight cloth. I looked through it later. it worked well. he wandered around the yard while I talked to Nidal, occasionally adding his thoughts to the conversation. I didn’t expect to feel so welcomed here, but I did.

Nidal described the space for me as we walked around the work space. It was messy. Lots of old machines. He told me about the prep area, where they build things for the community, Public projects like garbage cans, tree guards, bike racks. He called them the bread and butter. The following is a list of notes I recorded during our conversation.


Perpetually in a state of transition. Remediation of the ground, holding things back.

Leftovers from the steel mill, which was bought in 2002.

Monohasset Mill was bought first. 5 people bought the building collectively. Studio for working artists, next to the steel yard.

Providence Steel Inc. was still functional at the time of purchase.

owners of monahasset and firehouse 13 bought the property and machinery of PSI when they went out of business.

season runs from april to January.

informal at first. I get the impression that the steel yard was more of a place to hang out, work and even party. This attitude is still present,

grounds are toxic, mercury, lead. epa grant approved to remediate the grounds. all the water will drain into the ground. city is difficult to work with. they can’t seem to get the going on the ground work. they can’t make improvements to the building until the ground is dealt with. large scale renovation is ideal.

“the potential that this place has is unparalleled to most art communities”

came out of the wake of fort thunder. look up fort thunder. it was in eagle square. pinnacle of reclaimed space. art community. don’t quote him on this.

fort thunder was shut down. eagle square was renovated. kids kicked out. grocery store…gentrification.

artist community was reclaiming old buildings. when they became more legitimate, something happened

nidal walked in off the street and asked for residency. they welcomed him and gave him a key. things have grown from rough beginnings. there is a curriculum now.

there needs to be a sense that anybody in the community can get that (

“if you’re here, you’re most likely doing.”

“weekday nights, it is a madhouse here when classes are in session.” all in the same space. everybody working together. ceramics, glass or mold making, welding or blacksmithing, jewelry.

steel yard purchased the whole lot. they have plans for more studios and a restaurant. “it will be like a little community within these grounds right here.” he seemed confident about moves like this, because their community of patrons and supporters has been so well established. “it’s absolutely, completely un-risky.”

“there’s always crap kicking around here,” referring to machines and tools and materials that seem to float around.

“we do the fundraiser in the summer. huge party.”

iron pour on Halloween. people from the iron guild in maine comes down and pour iron and blow up wood molds. pyro party.

“providence has a network of communities.” these smaller groups, mostly artists, are the core patrons of the steel yard.

howie sneider, the man with the camera and push broom mustache, chimed in from across the yard, “demographic is mostly 25 to 35. but as young as 12 and in to their seventies.”


Howie talked to me about the public projects, the garbage cans and bike racks. Turning an everyday object into a sort of artwork. The simple act of putting thought and craft into the design of a garbage can might draw attention and encourage people to use it. I think the same could be said about bike racks. Hand crafted, thoughtful bike racks built by people in the community, to increase awareness of other modes of transportation. It’s a nice idea. Create symbols and signs that support the things you support. If you believe in riding a bike and throwing your garbage away, draw attention, make art.

I'm perched.

Jessica Martin


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Eryn Tomlinson



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John O'Keefe


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1|Do you use this space regularly?

JM|Yes.
ET|Yes, I basically live here.
JO|Yes.

2|What do you use it for?

JM|Smoking, taking a break.
ET|Smoking, talking, sitting.
JO|Smoking, waiting for Safe Ride.

3|What would you say the intended purpose of this space is?

JM|Circulation, entrance...definition of entrance.
ET|Entrance
JO|Smoking, waiting for Safe Ride.

4|Briefly describe the space.

JM|Narrow, sectional quality, different levels.
ET|Homey, where everyone goes to take breaks.
JO|Tall, pillars, cold, cool in the summer, sheltered...

5|Do you feel a sense of ownership for this space? Or do you feel like a guest here?

JM|I feel a sense of ownership.
ET|I don't feel like a guest, I feel like it's my little corner of RISD.
JO|It depends on who is here. Among students, yes, among faculty and administration, not as much.

6|What is appealing to you about this space? Why do you come here?

JM|Convenience.
ET|To watch everybody walking by.
JO|Fresh air, you can't smoke inside. Usually there are people hanging out.

7|Do you feel any obligation when you are in this space?

JM|Not at all.
ET|I feel like I have to smoke.
JO|No.

BEB Porch

I have been thinking about ambiguous spaces, that is, spaces that lack a clear sense of place. What makes a place? One definition offered by Merriam Webster is: a distinct condition, position, or state of mind. Place is something that is created, deliberately marking, or bounding, something as being separate from something else. I’m curious about the spaces in between places, intermediate zones with flexible programs.

The stoop, or porch or mediates the private function of a building and the linearity of a sidewalk or street. It offers a moment for pause. It is a place, but it makes no demands of its users, unlike the interior of the building and the sidewalk. It allows interaction and exchange to occur, as well as quick passage.

I am thinking specifically of the steps at the entrance of the Bayard Ewing Building, my second home. This place, for me, is primarily used to take a break and have a cigarette, but it is also a place for conversation, a place for meeting, sometimes a place for a nap or even a secondary work space. What is important to me about the steps is they don’t command any one occupation, and are often just a passageway. As soon as I enter the building, this changes. I have a goal, a place to be. Likewise, the sidewalk offers only two options, one direction or the other. There is an urgency with these places that is absent in the place of the stoop.

The porch does not impose rules, but permits the user to more easily control their situation. One chooses their primary reason for being there, and other things are secondary. In particular, interaction is not mandatory, rather it is possible. It is not a condition of “’togetherness’ or nothing.” The rules are flexible in this ambiguous space.