O.R.G. Rommens
Please Note
55 records found
1
Land Ledger
Inhabiting the Ignition Patches
The “Land Ledger”, situated in one of the burned villages in the 2021 wildfire, positions itself as a dynamic “becoming” by retaining the moments of different fire encounter scenarios as spatial conditions to embrace and appreciate. This approach focuses on the diverse fire timescales of design components, interconnected yet divisible, similar to the “augmented” patches of the forest landscape that contain numerous fractures having unique eco-histories. Recording these cyclical stories of resurgence and destruction, the proposal weaves the (re)organization of the rural art of making together without proximity or a strict frame, this time for inhabiting the ignition zone responsibly.
...
The “Land Ledger”, situated in one of the burned villages in the 2021 wildfire, positions itself as a dynamic “becoming” by retaining the moments of different fire encounter scenarios as spatial conditions to embrace and appreciate. This approach focuses on the diverse fire timescales of design components, interconnected yet divisible, similar to the “augmented” patches of the forest landscape that contain numerous fractures having unique eco-histories. Recording these cyclical stories of resurgence and destruction, the proposal weaves the (re)organization of the rural art of making together without proximity or a strict frame, this time for inhabiting the ignition zone responsibly.
Beneath the Cut
Negotiating land, culture and survival
For the past 50 years, fear has consumed the daily lives of the Ayu tribe of the Truku people in Hualien, Taiwan. Notifications of explosion schedules displayed on LED screens in the town centre prepare residents for the vibrations, noise, and dusty air to come. Will another rock fall into the village today? Fear is multiplied as earthquakes and typhoons approach the region. Will there be another landslide or rockfall? From 700 metres to 150 metres, the mine is getting lower and closer. When will it stop? ...
For the past 50 years, fear has consumed the daily lives of the Ayu tribe of the Truku people in Hualien, Taiwan. Notifications of explosion schedules displayed on LED screens in the town centre prepare residents for the vibrations, noise, and dusty air to come. Will another rock fall into the village today? Fear is multiplied as earthquakes and typhoons approach the region. Will there be another landslide or rockfall? From 700 metres to 150 metres, the mine is getting lower and closer. When will it stop?
Jean Genet
Design for the Marginalized
The research methodology employs iterative modeling to translate Genet’s experiences into an architectural language. The design process progresses from site-specific exploration to the translation of personal experience into spatial form. Ultimately, the final design addresses fundamental human needs, specifically shelter and sanitation, through the theoretical framework of the Michel Foucaul’s heterotopia.
...
The research methodology employs iterative modeling to translate Genet’s experiences into an architectural language. The design process progresses from site-specific exploration to the translation of personal experience into spatial form. Ultimately, the final design addresses fundamental human needs, specifically shelter and sanitation, through the theoretical framework of the Michel Foucaul’s heterotopia.
A remembering landscape
How borders have shaped Kurdish territory
The research focuses on Ababayle, a damaged and partly abandoned village near Halabja, where the remains of former houses appear as scattered stones in the landscape. These traces form the basis for an architectural intervention that works through cutting, excavation, and inhabitation. Instead of reconstructing the ruins or imposing a conventional monument, the project carves into the existing terrain, creating a labyrinthine route and an underground memorial square. Memory is approached through bodily experience.
The project questions whether remembrance can remain meaningful if it is only symbolic or contemplative. For this reason, the memorial is conceived as a lived spatial condition rather than a fixed object. Acts such as gardening, weaving, gathering, maintaining, and re-digging become central to the project. These practices connect ecological repair, cultural memory, collective presence, and care for the land. Healing is therefore not presented as a final resolution, but as an ongoing and incomplete relation between people, landscape, and memory.
...
The research focuses on Ababayle, a damaged and partly abandoned village near Halabja, where the remains of former houses appear as scattered stones in the landscape. These traces form the basis for an architectural intervention that works through cutting, excavation, and inhabitation. Instead of reconstructing the ruins or imposing a conventional monument, the project carves into the existing terrain, creating a labyrinthine route and an underground memorial square. Memory is approached through bodily experience.
The project questions whether remembrance can remain meaningful if it is only symbolic or contemplative. For this reason, the memorial is conceived as a lived spatial condition rather than a fixed object. Acts such as gardening, weaving, gathering, maintaining, and re-digging become central to the project. These practices connect ecological repair, cultural memory, collective presence, and care for the land. Healing is therefore not presented as a final resolution, but as an ongoing and incomplete relation between people, landscape, and memory.
Architecture and communities of care
Reframing the Terms of Survival of Declining Traditional Communities: The Special Case of Zagori
The project tests this theory in the village of Dilofo through a precise, aggressive subtractive slice carved through a tight cluster of three ruined houses right next to the central square. Inspired by Gordon Matta-Clark’s Anarchitecture and Kengo Kuma’s structural lightness, this intervention removes the interior party walls to merge the separate footprints into a single, continuous public void open to the sky. Programmatically unassigned, the porous rooms adapt fluidly to the changing seasons, shifting from an active food hub and communal kitchen during the summer panegyri festival to a quiet, contemplative sanctuary on regular days. Finally, the project enforces material circularity by cataloging the stone extracted from the structural cuts into a village registry to repair communal alleys and dry-stone walls throughout the region.
In conclusion, the thesis demonstrates that strategic architectural subtraction can successfully re-commonalize vacant private space, transforming a site of ongoing structural failure into a living, adaptive, and truly cooperative community landscape. ...
The project tests this theory in the village of Dilofo through a precise, aggressive subtractive slice carved through a tight cluster of three ruined houses right next to the central square. Inspired by Gordon Matta-Clark’s Anarchitecture and Kengo Kuma’s structural lightness, this intervention removes the interior party walls to merge the separate footprints into a single, continuous public void open to the sky. Programmatically unassigned, the porous rooms adapt fluidly to the changing seasons, shifting from an active food hub and communal kitchen during the summer panegyri festival to a quiet, contemplative sanctuary on regular days. Finally, the project enforces material circularity by cataloging the stone extracted from the structural cuts into a village registry to repair communal alleys and dry-stone walls throughout the region.
In conclusion, the thesis demonstrates that strategic architectural subtraction can successfully re-commonalize vacant private space, transforming a site of ongoing structural failure into a living, adaptive, and truly cooperative community landscape.
Negative Re-Source
Shifting Perspectives: Grounding the Mind Through Generative Voids of the Extractive Landscape
Rather than treating extraction as a purely technical problem, this project addresses it as a spatial, material, and psychological phenomenon. It argues that ecological transformation requires a fundamental shift in perception: living from an ego-centered state of control toward a heart-centered mode of living grounded in reciprocity and care.
The design transforms existing mining remnants into a contemplative route and dedicates an above-ground rock formation as a space for reflection, overnight stays, and reconnection. Subterranean tunnels, deep darkness and preexisting geological structures are reinterpreted as architectural elements that guide visitors through moments of vulnerability and reconnection, both in solitude and in shared moments. Utilizing the conceptual frameworks of cave & nest and site & non-site, the architecture follows the intrinsic logic of the landscape to establish a deep, reciprocal relationship with the physical context. Ultimately, the project proposes a different way of inhabiting extractive landscapes, one where architecture serves as an agency for reflection, grounding, and renewed kinship with the more-than-human world. ...
Rather than treating extraction as a purely technical problem, this project addresses it as a spatial, material, and psychological phenomenon. It argues that ecological transformation requires a fundamental shift in perception: living from an ego-centered state of control toward a heart-centered mode of living grounded in reciprocity and care.
The design transforms existing mining remnants into a contemplative route and dedicates an above-ground rock formation as a space for reflection, overnight stays, and reconnection. Subterranean tunnels, deep darkness and preexisting geological structures are reinterpreted as architectural elements that guide visitors through moments of vulnerability and reconnection, both in solitude and in shared moments. Utilizing the conceptual frameworks of cave & nest and site & non-site, the architecture follows the intrinsic logic of the landscape to establish a deep, reciprocal relationship with the physical context. Ultimately, the project proposes a different way of inhabiting extractive landscapes, one where architecture serves as an agency for reflection, grounding, and renewed kinship with the more-than-human world.
Any alley in Seoul with these characteristics used to be an outdoor hall of events. This old neighborhood once brimmed with children playing with deflated soccer balls and je-gi (a traditional toy). Mothers used to drag plastic chairs out through their gates to chat and trim spinach for dinner. More recently, surveillance cameras hang over the once cheerful alley, which is now blanketed by the disturbing noise of motorcycle deliveries, plastic bottles rattling in the wind, and old men watching online videos out loud while smoking in front of their doors. The once public identity that alleys portrayed has shifted in a few decades to an utterly empty space existing solely as a passage.
Where there used to be outdoor mats for drying red pepper and pedestals for weekend farms is now covered with concrete. Air-conditioner boxes and cables dangle above, while the front entrance is blocked by a small narrow door that only a child could pass through. In front of this door is where residents place their bags of rubbish. This door is typically mirrored by a wall erected in the alley between two buildings, effectively closing off the narrow space. Do these walls and doors reflect a change in social understanding? Ironically, in many cases, “in front of my door” means the main entrance to one’s space, but in terms of waste disposal, it refers specifically to this door.
Waste management in the national capital region of South Korea is in great peril, as the sole landfill—long the dumping ground for trash produced by 45% of the nation’s population—has decided it will no longer accept waste from outside Incheon. Although the landfill is located in Incheon, more than 80% of the total waste it receives has been delivered from its nearby neighbors: Seoul and Gyeonggi Province. Seoul’s lack of publicly owned incinerators exacerbates the issue, as disposed waste would have no appropriate destination.
In contrast to large apartment towers that collect massive amounts of rubbish and store it in secluded zones, old neighborhoods lack the space to store waste and instead push whatever they produce into the streets. Waste collection in apartment complexes is highly efficient—residents separate and dispose of trash in basement facilities, and large collection trucks gather it once a week with minimal hassle. However, old neighborhoods are being entirely replaced by this new typology, wiping out historic plot patterns and erasing cultural memory. How else can we solve the waste management issue? Is total redevelopment the only strategy for improving neighborhood livability? The current use of low-rise multifunctional blocks appears to contain hints of how decades of adaptation have led to a new typology. ...
Any alley in Seoul with these characteristics used to be an outdoor hall of events. This old neighborhood once brimmed with children playing with deflated soccer balls and je-gi (a traditional toy). Mothers used to drag plastic chairs out through their gates to chat and trim spinach for dinner. More recently, surveillance cameras hang over the once cheerful alley, which is now blanketed by the disturbing noise of motorcycle deliveries, plastic bottles rattling in the wind, and old men watching online videos out loud while smoking in front of their doors. The once public identity that alleys portrayed has shifted in a few decades to an utterly empty space existing solely as a passage.
Where there used to be outdoor mats for drying red pepper and pedestals for weekend farms is now covered with concrete. Air-conditioner boxes and cables dangle above, while the front entrance is blocked by a small narrow door that only a child could pass through. In front of this door is where residents place their bags of rubbish. This door is typically mirrored by a wall erected in the alley between two buildings, effectively closing off the narrow space. Do these walls and doors reflect a change in social understanding? Ironically, in many cases, “in front of my door” means the main entrance to one’s space, but in terms of waste disposal, it refers specifically to this door.
Waste management in the national capital region of South Korea is in great peril, as the sole landfill—long the dumping ground for trash produced by 45% of the nation’s population—has decided it will no longer accept waste from outside Incheon. Although the landfill is located in Incheon, more than 80% of the total waste it receives has been delivered from its nearby neighbors: Seoul and Gyeonggi Province. Seoul’s lack of publicly owned incinerators exacerbates the issue, as disposed waste would have no appropriate destination.
In contrast to large apartment towers that collect massive amounts of rubbish and store it in secluded zones, old neighborhoods lack the space to store waste and instead push whatever they produce into the streets. Waste collection in apartment complexes is highly efficient—residents separate and dispose of trash in basement facilities, and large collection trucks gather it once a week with minimal hassle. However, old neighborhoods are being entirely replaced by this new typology, wiping out historic plot patterns and erasing cultural memory. How else can we solve the waste management issue? Is total redevelopment the only strategy for improving neighborhood livability? The current use of low-rise multifunctional blocks appears to contain hints of how decades of adaptation have led to a new typology.
A Auditorium for the Hill
A Commentary on Landscape Transformation
The methodology combines field documentation, satellite data analysis, and design speculation. Satellite imagery spanning twenty years maps vegetation cover and subsurface moisture levels, revealing three stages of transformation. The analysis identifies two critical parameters: a vegetation axis stabilizing soil through water absorption, and an erosion channel where destabilized soil accelerates downward movement. Findings demonstrate that surface sealing from development concentrates water in vulnerable zones, creating feedback loops where equilibrium between vegetation and water flow collapses into collision. Geological profiling establishes stable bedrock at 2.5 meters depth, defining the threshold between permanent and transforming strata.
The research reveals that landscape erosion is socially produced through zoning changes and development practices. Comparative analysis of maps from 1987 and 2016 documents the reclassification of green zones as development sites, demonstrating how investor urbanism seeks edges, creates edges through fragmentation, and accelerates physical transformation.
The design proposal, "Auditorium for the Hill," responds through architectural commentary positioned at the junction where stability meets erosion. The intervention employs three structural strategies: a retention wall following a continuous horizon to frame transformation; post-tensioned anchoring in stable bedrock establishing permanent foundation; and a cantilevered steel structure suspended over eroding ground dramatizing the tension between stability and collapse. Rather than technical stabilization, the project creates collective public space for observation and reflection, proposing architecture as instrument that witnesses transformation and creates grounds for communities to engage with forces shaping their terrain. ...
The methodology combines field documentation, satellite data analysis, and design speculation. Satellite imagery spanning twenty years maps vegetation cover and subsurface moisture levels, revealing three stages of transformation. The analysis identifies two critical parameters: a vegetation axis stabilizing soil through water absorption, and an erosion channel where destabilized soil accelerates downward movement. Findings demonstrate that surface sealing from development concentrates water in vulnerable zones, creating feedback loops where equilibrium between vegetation and water flow collapses into collision. Geological profiling establishes stable bedrock at 2.5 meters depth, defining the threshold between permanent and transforming strata.
The research reveals that landscape erosion is socially produced through zoning changes and development practices. Comparative analysis of maps from 1987 and 2016 documents the reclassification of green zones as development sites, demonstrating how investor urbanism seeks edges, creates edges through fragmentation, and accelerates physical transformation.
The design proposal, "Auditorium for the Hill," responds through architectural commentary positioned at the junction where stability meets erosion. The intervention employs three structural strategies: a retention wall following a continuous horizon to frame transformation; post-tensioned anchoring in stable bedrock establishing permanent foundation; and a cantilevered steel structure suspended over eroding ground dramatizing the tension between stability and collapse. Rather than technical stabilization, the project creates collective public space for observation and reflection, proposing architecture as instrument that witnesses transformation and creates grounds for communities to engage with forces shaping their terrain.
Hauntology of Loss
The Ghosts of Tbilisi
Bathing in liminality
From ground, to water, to buildings and to bodies
Civil Affairs
A research and design project in Chongqing
Repositioning industrial brownfield
A post-human-centered transformation of the abandoned flour milling plant in Tbilisi base on rewilding and temporality
Office for Digital Oblivion
On Material and Operational Complexities of Contemporary Data Infrastructures
Inhabiting Bodies and Territories
On Spatiality and Materiality of Migration
Addressing the need for a dignified end, the project proposes a living memorial through three stages: homemaking, housekeeping, and memorialization. Homemaking involves migrants performing burial rituals—collecting, washing, digging, burying, and marking—as a comforting farewell to the deceased, creating a permanent resting "home" in the territory. Housekeeping entails border patrols documenting and maintaining these sites, using a rope system to track burial sequences, tree growth, and body decomposition. Memorialization integrates the deceased and their grave markers into the territory's natural cycle, forming a living tribute that evolves over time.
Through the accumulation of countless journeys, the memorial illustrates the profound impact of migrants as agents of change in the built environment. It serves as a model for architectural responses to shared tragedies, offering relevance extending beyond Panama. ...
Addressing the need for a dignified end, the project proposes a living memorial through three stages: homemaking, housekeeping, and memorialization. Homemaking involves migrants performing burial rituals—collecting, washing, digging, burying, and marking—as a comforting farewell to the deceased, creating a permanent resting "home" in the territory. Housekeeping entails border patrols documenting and maintaining these sites, using a rope system to track burial sequences, tree growth, and body decomposition. Memorialization integrates the deceased and their grave markers into the territory's natural cycle, forming a living tribute that evolves over time.
Through the accumulation of countless journeys, the memorial illustrates the profound impact of migrants as agents of change in the built environment. It serves as a model for architectural responses to shared tragedies, offering relevance extending beyond Panama.
Architectural “Body without Organs”
Carnivalesque as an opportunity for systemic transgressions
Building on this analysis, the project explores the concept of the ‘carnivalesque’ as a form of transgressive urban space. It proposes festival infrastructure that not only responds to themes of bodily functions and societal excess but also provides an alternative to the neighborhood’s failing public amenities. While festivals are often seen as spaces of liberation, they remain deeply intertwined with capitalist cycles of consumption. This paradox is addressed by designing a self-sufficient and bottom-up system where the byproducts of excess feed back into the community. The architecture is conceived as an assemblage of facilities centered around the symbolic role of the dish, integrating spatial and material strategies that cater to festival-goers while enhancing local resilience.
The project aligns with architectural discourse by addressing urban and human-scale spatialities, innovating in materiality and circularity. The research-driven design process, guided by video studies, physical models, and narrative-driven analysis, provides insight into how transgressive spaces can be reimagined as tools for community empowerment. By questioning the role of festivals in public space and their environmental and social implications, the project proposes a model that could be adapted to other urban contexts, challenging conventional approaches to temporary infrastructure. ...
Building on this analysis, the project explores the concept of the ‘carnivalesque’ as a form of transgressive urban space. It proposes festival infrastructure that not only responds to themes of bodily functions and societal excess but also provides an alternative to the neighborhood’s failing public amenities. While festivals are often seen as spaces of liberation, they remain deeply intertwined with capitalist cycles of consumption. This paradox is addressed by designing a self-sufficient and bottom-up system where the byproducts of excess feed back into the community. The architecture is conceived as an assemblage of facilities centered around the symbolic role of the dish, integrating spatial and material strategies that cater to festival-goers while enhancing local resilience.
The project aligns with architectural discourse by addressing urban and human-scale spatialities, innovating in materiality and circularity. The research-driven design process, guided by video studies, physical models, and narrative-driven analysis, provides insight into how transgressive spaces can be reimagined as tools for community empowerment. By questioning the role of festivals in public space and their environmental and social implications, the project proposes a model that could be adapted to other urban contexts, challenging conventional approaches to temporary infrastructure.
A central theme is Bruno Latour's notion of 'The Terrestrial,' which redefines the earth as a political actor in a reciprocal relationship with humanity. This paradigm shift necessitates a reevaluation of humanity's approach to the ground, from one of ownership and control to one of coexistence and diplomacy. The Isthmus of Panama serves as a case study, illustrating the profound interaction between human engineering and geological processes through the construction and operation of the Panama Canal.
The project proposes an 'Embassy of the Ground' as a gesture of diplomacy to foster a diplomatic relationship between humans and the ground. This embassy, situated near the Post-Panamax locks of the canal, is designed as an enclosed space with the precise dimensions of a lock chamber, granting the ground within it diplomatic immunity. Surrounding the enclosure, three departments—Communications, Legal Affairs, and Informal Diplomacy—facilitate interactions with the ground.
Ultimately, the embassy serves as a bridge between human and geological timescales, promoting an ethic of mutual respect for the ground. By redefining the relationship between the human and the earth, the project challenges static conceptions of space and encourages a dynamic, time-sensitive perspective on architecture and territory. ...
A central theme is Bruno Latour's notion of 'The Terrestrial,' which redefines the earth as a political actor in a reciprocal relationship with humanity. This paradigm shift necessitates a reevaluation of humanity's approach to the ground, from one of ownership and control to one of coexistence and diplomacy. The Isthmus of Panama serves as a case study, illustrating the profound interaction between human engineering and geological processes through the construction and operation of the Panama Canal.
The project proposes an 'Embassy of the Ground' as a gesture of diplomacy to foster a diplomatic relationship between humans and the ground. This embassy, situated near the Post-Panamax locks of the canal, is designed as an enclosed space with the precise dimensions of a lock chamber, granting the ground within it diplomatic immunity. Surrounding the enclosure, three departments—Communications, Legal Affairs, and Informal Diplomacy—facilitate interactions with the ground.
Ultimately, the embassy serves as a bridge between human and geological timescales, promoting an ethic of mutual respect for the ground. By redefining the relationship between the human and the earth, the project challenges static conceptions of space and encourages a dynamic, time-sensitive perspective on architecture and territory.