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For two or so weeks in 2018 I came to Frontyard with a vague, only half-conscious desire: to think about the intersections between writing and architecture. I spent my time there leafing through the beautiful books in the library, following one to the next like a dog learning to smell a route. I made notes, jottings, some related to the readings I came across, and much of it not. And when I became restless, or too cold, I tried to film a little. I liked the green leather chairs, and the frosted(?) glass window of the library, especially when it rained, and to where I often retreated in the evenings.
I had one very memorable visitor: an old man, short, with a wheelie bag, a can of Mother, and wearing perhaps a baseball cap. He was an ethnomusicologist, and somehow began to ramble on wonderfully about the nomadic horsemen of Kyrgyzstan, playing their specialty stringed instruments as they galloped.
Words felt flimsy and sometimes redundant, as I wondered how to situate my own in relation to architecture, which seemed manifest in such concrete, physical forms. I spent a lot of time looking out the glass windowfront, listening peripherally to 89.7 Eastside FM7FM, and conducting small, sporadic experiments that attempted to force language into the physical.
I left FY buzzing with thoughts about poetics -- the poetics of architecture, and the architecture of poetics; nested within that was a rhizome of notions, especially relating to materiality x textuality, and much of which I have yet to untangle for myself.
The link below will take you to a piece that emerged out of my time at Frontyard, and further below are some scatterings from the log I kept while I was there.
infrastructural poetics [https://www.dropbox.com/s/kft37fx2m0klhn0/JuneTang_infrastructuralpoetics.pdf?dl=0]
