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TAXI-DERMIS
Richard Goodwin
The question of minimums in architecture was never more eloquently addressed than within the brief essay "Minimums", by Michael Sorkin for the Village Voice, NY, in 1987. Subsequently published in his book "The Exquisite Corpse", it not only frames the philosophical dilemma of where architecture begins, but also pre-empts the meteoric rise to prominence of Elizabeth Diller, Ricardo Scofidio and Coop Himmelblau.
The problem for me is how can one add to this debate, now that issues regarding the prosthetic in art and architecture have been so widely canvassed.
Like Sorkin I believe that architecture must start with the body and that this implies more than mere proportioning.
To date I have played with the Diller Scofidio notion of "Body/buildings" under the generalised title of "Exoskeleton". Over the years these sculptures have served as engines for possible public artwork. All play with the idea of the human condition as insect-like. Consequently I believe that a line of cars on a freeway is infinitely more interesting as architecture than most buildings. This is not to say that such a structure doesn’t have social problems.
"Taxi-dermis" is an attempt to construct an image, which will resonate throughout the debate. It finds its origins in a series of experiences and daydreams within Sydney taxis.
Narrative:
Wedged behind the perspex bubble of a Sydney Taxi I studied the head of the driver and tried to relate it to his photo in the dashboard cardholder. Somehow they never seem to go together. The driver was eating his dinner as he drove, out of a chequered cloth and alfoil clump. This action was later interrupted by his mobile phone and an intriguing series of button pushing exercises, which would have unnerved any obsessive-compulsive.
In NY the separation from the taxi driver is like occupying adjoining flats. In Sydney its like reality TV in the round for 20 minutes.
On further inspection the driver’s body was knitted into the bubble by a parka coat and 3 old newspapers. Then I noticed his children’s photos taped under the air vents.
The bubbles are crudely made but fit the space around the seat with only centimetres to spare. This one was crazed around the screw fixings and bore the black scars of many a kicking – not bad drawing. Conversation was out of the question and I imagined e-mailing him as he drove.
"Hi I’m the guy in the back, why am I late?"
I imagined him having sex in the bubble with his girlfriend while he drove.
The perspex protector is very important architecture because it creates a small home within the public building of the taxi. The taxi is clearly an extension of public space – an apparatus that stretches from place to place in a variety of elastic rhythms. The thin veil of the taxi bubble, which I call "Taxi-dermis", speculates not only about minimum architecture but also about habitation within public space.
It is architecture, which attempts to solve the thrust of a knife or the strangulation of an arm. This it does while leaving the body in full view. In fact it advertises the vulnerability of the body in a way that enhances its fascination as prosthetic architecture.
The resulting building is not in fact only one cubic meter of space, but a tube of experience, a labyrinthine worm-hole which maps the heart of a cities arteries.
It is time-based architecture at speed.
It forms the naked abject truth of city alienation for all to experience at will – just catch a cab.
It is the lowest common denominator of architecture in the city – the starting point - the generator.
These bubbles of existence, together with our timed public toilets and shooting galleries, "show the wound" of architecture.
"Taxi-dermis" is a measure of architecture today via sculpture and installation. While its problems as a social construction remain unsolved, the architecture of the city remains unsolved.
