- 2024
For each of the five projects, we produced a zine, “RAW,” in which multiple documents (documents, email correspondence, drawings and site photos) generated during the design process are bundled together as is and tucked into a folder. The manila folder used as the binding is one that is used in our office on a regular basis.
What on earth is raw? What kind of texture is there? Freshness? Unripeness? Softness? Where does it start and stop being raw? For example, if there is a raw state in architectural design, what does that mean?
This is a raw zine to pack such interest and observe.
When we embarked on creating the zine ‘RAW,’ we had a strong sense of the direction we wanted to take, which gradually crystallised as we progressed. We envisioned a publication that would reflect the raw, unpolished nature of our previous projects—a departure from the sleek presentations typical of architectural publications. Our mutual understanding was that such refinement would be more suited to a book format. We aimed to recapture the taste of zines, characterised by their roughness, clumsiness, and the unmistakable amateurism of their creators—a sentiment echoed by descriptions of zines as “usually reproduced via a copy machine,” as even noted by Wikipedia.
By creating a zine by solely selecting some files, taking screenshots, and printing them in a very simple manner, ‘RAW’ not only celebrates zines as we used to know them but also serves as an ode to more authenticity and honesty in this more-than-ever branded world.”
(Excerpts from RAW of RAW)
Planning/Editing/Production : DOMINO ARCHITECTS
Printing : KINKOS
Number of Copies : 25
Price : \7,777 (tax included)
Photo : Leo Arimoto
Book production may be likened to gathering raw materials such as photos, drawings, and texts to be recorded, and then cooking (editing) and arranging them (book design) to provide a dish (book) that makes you want to eat (read) it at any moment. If regular publications are like a professional cook’s cooking, then a zine might be like a bribe meal, a street food stall, or a home-cooked meal. Neither is better than the other, of course; we want to eat both. In contrast, “RAW” seems too “uncooked”. Raw vegetables with the stems removed and cut-up meats (both familiar and unfamiliar ingredients) are plopped onto a plate in a heap. In conclusion, if the food is edible, we may enjoy the flavors as they are, or we may imagine what the dish will taste like when it is made from these ingredients. However, just as the sum of the tastes of each ingredient does not equal the taste of the final dish, the unique flavor of each piece of “raw” is blended into the overall experience of the finished architecture. If this is the case, what does it mean to savor architecture? The possibility and impossibility of tasting architecture are vividly questioned.
Comment : Shinichi Kawakatsu (architectural critic)
