Raw Senses

Kreis 5, August 5th 2023

The Office is located on the 13th floor, it is reached by a lift. It has a surface of x square meters, which is to say it is y meters long and z meters wide. It is a rectangle, subdivided by walls, though most of it is an open space. There are x columns, organised in a row running along the centre of the room. Beyond the lift are two bathrooms, one for men and the other for women. It is located in an area that was once industrial, but now hosts office buildings, much like this one. But it is special, it has a neighbour. It faces a hill, being open as it is, the people on the hill can see what happens in The Office, during the day, they can see faint traces of people moving around the space. At night the office is lit up, opacity becomes transparency, The Office takes over.

Office Archipelago

The space The Office now occupies was born of a utilitarian vision, conceived as a conventional work space. But what does that imply? It implies flexibility – open, adaptable, a blank canvas for a range of possible outcomes. It’s a celebration of “Pure Program”, anything can happen inside of it, though nothing really does. It looks to erase identity; odourless, emotionless, colourless. Less is More. More is More. Less is a Bore. But now its been occupied by something else, since it's a space that can shape-shift at will. It will; from a corporate boardroom to the backdrop of a fashion shoot. Models strutting around, dressed like they mean business. All that was required was a change in personnel.

In this city, where every square meter comes with a price tag, conformity often dictates function. But now the building has been put up for sale, the tenants leases have expired, the building is vacant, a temporary window has opened up and incongruity has inserted itself into the space. The stage is set.

The stage is set, the actors enter.
Act 1: (Thoughtful)

In this once silent space, you find an unexpected contrast. Furniture, diverse in form, materials, and hues, infiltrates this orderly office landscape. It’s as though they’ve been waiting, biding their time, ready to challenge the uniformity of the space. Gleaming surfaces, fluid curves, and sharp angles—these elements don’t just coexist; they impose their presence with undeniable intensity, infusing the environment with raw emotion. It’s a world of gentle touches, where these objects float, seemingly untouched by gravity, hovering just above the carpet, whose swirls are ready to absorb any noise that might bother the inhabitants of the space, but these objects disrupt the calm, they inject disquiet and uncertainty, and yet, their moment in the spotlight is fleeting, they’re only here for a short amount of time, their intensity is brief but it will leave its trace on the space, with the shapes of table legs and the weight of chairs.

Act 2: (Engaging)

As your gaze sweeps over this spectacle, you realise you’re not alone. The furniture is more than just pieces; it is an integral part of this ever-evolving stage. The pieces demand your attention, inviting you to become an active participant in the transformation of the workspace into something else. This isn’t just furniture; it’s the heartbeat of a new paradigm. But you? You’re not the actor; you're the audience, observing the dialogue between space and objects. Beyond mere aesthetics, it asks you to reach out, explore, and engage in this sensory dance. This is no passive observation; it’s a revelation. Personal stories unfold, and the pent-up emotions you've brought along find their release.

Zoom out, focus

Workspaces have evolved, or at least they’re trying to. The once-familiar office with its regimented rows of desks, those little expressions of individuality – a desk plant, a postcard, perhaps some mundane Tupperware—it’s all in flux.

And here we are, bobbing in this sea of change. The office is trying to transform into something more. It’s not just about the physical space; it’s about the very idea of an office. Work and life are entwined, every moment and every corner holds the potential of work. Furniture, with its forms and functions, now takes centre stage. It’s more than just chairs and tables; it’s a way to define and determine the space, to give it meaning and function. It’s the key to making sense of the new state of indeterminacy.

But with this there comes a question: what happens when the office loses its homogeneity? When the quiet tranquility of the old space, with its passive-aggressive undertones, gives way to a more expressive environment? Will employees find a renewed sense of boldness, free to break out of their shells? Or will they be overwhelmed by the cacophony of change? It's a challenge for us all – to navigate the emotional terrain of this new world.