Balloons and render ghosts
This article was originally published in Domus 966 / February 2013
Life Among the Render Ghosts
TAR Magazine, Issue 8, Fall 2012.
"End the evictions now." "Accessible housing for all." "Homes are a human right." High above them, on a balcony that appeared too small to accommodate him, a young man dropped a banner down the front of a dun-and-terracotta mixed-use housing block: "I don't remember how I got here."
One of the women in the procession explained the situation to me. "I've heard about a new master plan in Docklands that's looking to fill some old warehouses, but I'm fed up of moving on. Sometimes it's like you can't breathe. The weight of expectation and the knowledge that this is all temporary pressing down on you like a sheet of glass."
The render artists, in turn, claim the situation is out of their hands. Since architecture became a business of selling futures and lifestyles rather than living spaces—sustainable LEED developments, third space business parks, "European-style" plazas—the job is to place entire quarters beyond critique, already integrated into the fabric of the the bustling, productive, hyper-efficient and eternal-sunshine smart city.
The render ghosts have no real memories; they depend on the software to frame, process and encode their experiences, and the unstable flux of political will to ensure their continuity. And good luck to them: they inhabit our finest code/spaces, the notional realm of our imaginings, the near-just-future cities we will never get to live in. Some days, disconnected and adrift in the dirty city, I almost envy them.
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