N. Sanaan Bensi
Please Note
31 records found
1
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.
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.
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.
Extractive Preservation
Interfaces of Profanation, Power and Ecology in the Restricted Zone
Informed by Giorgio Agamben’s concept of profanation, the project is structured as a trilogy of inquiry across territorial scales, the wider territory, the village and lake system, and the city. Across these interconnected conditions, it traces how ecological processes, governance frameworks, and everyday practices are deeply entangled, revealing environmental governance as an extractive mechanism that translates lived knowledge into remote systems of control.
At its core, the project seeks to make the local practice of fishing operative in subverting the hegemonic technopolitical mechanisms through which the Delta is understood, negotiated, and managed. In response, it proposes a series of infrastructural “acupunctures” that render local agency legible within the territorial system. Through a simultaneous process of formalisation and informalisation, fishing practices are re-inscribed into governance through the construction of a fishing dock and the adaptive reuse of a former fish canning factory, while environmental data is relocated into the commons of the Delta, opening monitoring processes to collective participation and situated knowledge production.
The project is liminal methaphorically existing at the threshold between needed action and an anticipated vision, but also physically situated between systems of power. Working simultaneously through territory, community and material, the interventions do not merely represent the citizen, the village or the institution. Instead, they position these actors on a shared and horizontal plane, displacing top-down forms of control in favour of governance emerging from below. The highly sophisticated and the deeply analogue, the abstract and the material, are brought into proximity not as opposites, but as coexisting forms of inhabitation and knowledge production. Through this profanation of established hierarchies, the project reclaims agency for those rendered outsiders within their own land.
...
Informed by Giorgio Agamben’s concept of profanation, the project is structured as a trilogy of inquiry across territorial scales, the wider territory, the village and lake system, and the city. Across these interconnected conditions, it traces how ecological processes, governance frameworks, and everyday practices are deeply entangled, revealing environmental governance as an extractive mechanism that translates lived knowledge into remote systems of control.
At its core, the project seeks to make the local practice of fishing operative in subverting the hegemonic technopolitical mechanisms through which the Delta is understood, negotiated, and managed. In response, it proposes a series of infrastructural “acupunctures” that render local agency legible within the territorial system. Through a simultaneous process of formalisation and informalisation, fishing practices are re-inscribed into governance through the construction of a fishing dock and the adaptive reuse of a former fish canning factory, while environmental data is relocated into the commons of the Delta, opening monitoring processes to collective participation and situated knowledge production.
The project is liminal methaphorically existing at the threshold between needed action and an anticipated vision, but also physically situated between systems of power. Working simultaneously through territory, community and material, the interventions do not merely represent the citizen, the village or the institution. Instead, they position these actors on a shared and horizontal plane, displacing top-down forms of control in favour of governance emerging from below. The highly sophisticated and the deeply analogue, the abstract and the material, are brought into proximity not as opposites, but as coexisting forms of inhabitation and knowledge production. Through this profanation of established hierarchies, the project reclaims agency for those rendered outsiders within their own land.
Rather than approaching architecture as a solution, the project understands it as an intervention into a moment of social and ecological transformation. The question at its core is not how to house the nomad, but how the rituals, memories, and forms of knowledge embedded within nomadic life might survive settlement. To what extent can ephemerality be maintained within a static dwelling? Can architecture continue to act as a site of community cohesion, female agency, and collective labour once movement has ceased?
Drawing from the building culture of the Aqal, the traditional Somali nomadic hut, the project investigates song, ritual, and construction as forms of architectural notation. Somali work songs were translated into spatial rules that informed the organisation of the project, transforming rhythm, repetition, and exchange into a language of form. Through this process, architecture became a means of representing journey rather than merely accommodating it.
Located on the edge of Hargeisa, where urban expansion meets the pastoral landscape, the proposal reimagines the communal watering hole as both infrastructure and social condenser. Housing, water collection, and productive spaces are organised around rituals of gathering and making. Constructed from locally available eucalyptus poles, earthen materials, and woven systems, the architecture remains lightweight, adaptable, and participatory.
The project proposes a typology that is neither fully permanent nor fully temporary. Instead, it exists in the space between, honouring a culture whose understanding of home has always been inseparable from the journey itself.
...
Rather than approaching architecture as a solution, the project understands it as an intervention into a moment of social and ecological transformation. The question at its core is not how to house the nomad, but how the rituals, memories, and forms of knowledge embedded within nomadic life might survive settlement. To what extent can ephemerality be maintained within a static dwelling? Can architecture continue to act as a site of community cohesion, female agency, and collective labour once movement has ceased?
Drawing from the building culture of the Aqal, the traditional Somali nomadic hut, the project investigates song, ritual, and construction as forms of architectural notation. Somali work songs were translated into spatial rules that informed the organisation of the project, transforming rhythm, repetition, and exchange into a language of form. Through this process, architecture became a means of representing journey rather than merely accommodating it.
Located on the edge of Hargeisa, where urban expansion meets the pastoral landscape, the proposal reimagines the communal watering hole as both infrastructure and social condenser. Housing, water collection, and productive spaces are organised around rituals of gathering and making. Constructed from locally available eucalyptus poles, earthen materials, and woven systems, the architecture remains lightweight, adaptable, and participatory.
The project proposes a typology that is neither fully permanent nor fully temporary. Instead, it exists in the space between, honouring a culture whose understanding of home has always been inseparable from the journey itself.
Entropic Empire
Transrational Method of Tererritorialization
...
Office for Digital Oblivion
On Material and Operational Complexities of Contemporary Data Infrastructures
Within the threshold
Connecting elements as complex liminal spaces
Living Archive
Transcalar (dis)order of tree debris in the Lake Gatun
Living Archive aims to break the isolation of Barro Colorado Island. It is an extended space, accessible to more visitors, enhancing the knowledge of a local unique ecology. It introduces a third mediating scale that addresses both small (micro) and large (macro) environmental aspects. The design features spaces that reveal ecological conditions and promote direct sensory experiences.
Inspired by scientific methods and Donna Haraway’s "Situated Knowledge," the project uses architecture as a tool to study Gatun Lake and Barro Colorado Island. Through various experiments and iterations, the project developed into a response driven by curiosity and site-specific needs.
The final structure, a "living archive," marks the space with unique floral features in each room and enhances natural processes like rainwater collection and sun path movement. It includes a series of rooms accessible by boats, creating a new connection between scientists and local inhabitants. This shared space fosters dialogue and a deeper understanding of the environment.
In summary, this project offers a new architectural approach to addressing ecological trauma, integrating scientific collaboration, and creating a dynamic and inclusive environment.
...
Living Archive aims to break the isolation of Barro Colorado Island. It is an extended space, accessible to more visitors, enhancing the knowledge of a local unique ecology. It introduces a third mediating scale that addresses both small (micro) and large (macro) environmental aspects. The design features spaces that reveal ecological conditions and promote direct sensory experiences.
Inspired by scientific methods and Donna Haraway’s "Situated Knowledge," the project uses architecture as a tool to study Gatun Lake and Barro Colorado Island. Through various experiments and iterations, the project developed into a response driven by curiosity and site-specific needs.
The final structure, a "living archive," marks the space with unique floral features in each room and enhances natural processes like rainwater collection and sun path movement. It includes a series of rooms accessible by boats, creating a new connection between scientists and local inhabitants. This shared space fosters dialogue and a deeper understanding of the environment.
In summary, this project offers a new architectural approach to addressing ecological trauma, integrating scientific collaboration, and creating a dynamic and inclusive environment.
Monsoon Folio
Monsoonal Assemblages in the Borderlands of Assam
Urban Improvisation
Research and design about resedents' spontaneous architectural and urban practice in Marseille
When people do the practice, they mainly based on their own current needs and what material they have instead of considering the building or city as a whole. These practices are spontaneous, unplanned makeshift and ad hoc. They can be seen as improvisational practice. Seen architecture as paintings, in these cases, their improvisational activities are more like a collage rather than fully considered composition. But as Jencks explains, it involves using an available system in a new way to solve a problem quickly and efficiently. By doing so, it offers a way for everyone to shape and discuss the city they live in. And for the public, there should be nothing preventing them, in an agonistic and participatory manner, from devising and debating forms of their shelter and space for daily life. The improvisational practice has itself taken inspiration: Another world is possible. ...
When people do the practice, they mainly based on their own current needs and what material they have instead of considering the building or city as a whole. These practices are spontaneous, unplanned makeshift and ad hoc. They can be seen as improvisational practice. Seen architecture as paintings, in these cases, their improvisational activities are more like a collage rather than fully considered composition. But as Jencks explains, it involves using an available system in a new way to solve a problem quickly and efficiently. By doing so, it offers a way for everyone to shape and discuss the city they live in. And for the public, there should be nothing preventing them, in an agonistic and participatory manner, from devising and debating forms of their shelter and space for daily life. The improvisational practice has itself taken inspiration: Another world is possible.
Rethinking the Infra- Culture space
Bridging, providing, enhancing
Religion, politics and economics are the main forces which run the city and have not only affected the growth and development of the whole city but are involved in the shift toward a large-scale infrastructure, which has become a dominant idea of city planning during the last few centuries.
Overlapping the flows and its agencies reveals that district six is the logistic hub and the entrance to the city, it encounters both scales regional and local, therefore it is the site of intervention.
Mapping the different flows, spaces and everyday life reveals that the big infrastructure is informed, and has strong connectivity with its surrounding region however it creates discontinuous relationships on the local scale, the local scale is neglected. moreover, its main spaces are economic driving, and the marginal settlement, are result of this spaces.
People are vulnerable society, they have access only to groundwater due to technical problems associated with expansion of the system in marginal areas, groundwater is highly contaminated.
The project aims to bridge not only physically but also socially culturally and environmentally. It is located within the infrastructure node (Ghadir square) transferring its space into Hybrid spaces which have multifunctional use, inhabiting the infrastructure space and transforming its spaces into places. Its atmosphere encounters both natural and urban, regional and local.
The main emphasis is on the water, driving from the research, the project is an assemblage of different function water filtration system, metro, market, educational centre, parking and communal spaces, each function with its own individual character has its border and territorial scale but all are connected to the central park and water tank.
Creating neighbourhood identities based on their distinctive interrelationship with water.
...
Religion, politics and economics are the main forces which run the city and have not only affected the growth and development of the whole city but are involved in the shift toward a large-scale infrastructure, which has become a dominant idea of city planning during the last few centuries.
Overlapping the flows and its agencies reveals that district six is the logistic hub and the entrance to the city, it encounters both scales regional and local, therefore it is the site of intervention.
Mapping the different flows, spaces and everyday life reveals that the big infrastructure is informed, and has strong connectivity with its surrounding region however it creates discontinuous relationships on the local scale, the local scale is neglected. moreover, its main spaces are economic driving, and the marginal settlement, are result of this spaces.
People are vulnerable society, they have access only to groundwater due to technical problems associated with expansion of the system in marginal areas, groundwater is highly contaminated.
The project aims to bridge not only physically but also socially culturally and environmentally. It is located within the infrastructure node (Ghadir square) transferring its space into Hybrid spaces which have multifunctional use, inhabiting the infrastructure space and transforming its spaces into places. Its atmosphere encounters both natural and urban, regional and local.
The main emphasis is on the water, driving from the research, the project is an assemblage of different function water filtration system, metro, market, educational centre, parking and communal spaces, each function with its own individual character has its border and territorial scale but all are connected to the central park and water tank.
Creating neighbourhood identities based on their distinctive interrelationship with water.
Reclaiming the landscape
An alternative understanding of the waste cycle in Marseille