-parare

Broken, generally, means that something or someone is no longer able to perform a designated role. But it matters that we understand what gets broken, how, for whom, and what that means. There are in fact many things that break and can be broken. And each broken piece manifests a different definition to the one just given. To name a very few: bread can be broken. It's said that bread used to be harder than they are these days and needed to actually be broken apart to share. Hearts can be broken. Studies are showing that there is a sharp increase in broken heart syndrome often brought on by stressful situations and extreme emotions. The day breaks to signal the beginning or the early morning. A break can also be taken to rest during the hours of work or production. Broken records, due to scratches and divots on their surface, repeat themselves on a loop. And there are countless other ways things have been breaking without the thought of ever being repaired. 

And for something to be broken, it follows the assumption that the very thing was working in the first place. Serving a strict function within a closed and possibly exclusive system. Without regard for who it affects and to what ends. Sometimes things need to be broken completely before it can be repaired as it risks prolonging a tenuous situation or continuing on the wrong path. Everything needs to come to a halt to even take notice.

Finally, what does repair actually look like? Is it a mere return, a restoration? Is it a subtractive process or an additive process? Is itpassive and left alone or is it active, violent, and constantly changing? How long is the process and is it ever achieved? Is it ever anticipated and how is it maintained? Is it as instantaneous as replacing parts or is it something that heals with time?

The root word of repair, is -parare, which simply means to prepare or make ready. Perhaps, we as a collective of creative disciplines are agents who recognize the capability of environments and bring various situations to an original state of potential.

Japanese architect Kon Wajiro coined the term Modernology to describe his observational research in things like fashion, diagrams of suicide points in Tokyo, shapes of beards, organization of cupboards, all in the aftermath of a major earthquake. His intentions were to record the various means through which people were rising back from the ashes.

The work sees itself as a collection of ways of being, in a given place, at a given moment and where the collection of samples has value for what it is: a set of diverse profiles which, laid end-to-end like points on a map, offer an image of the present moment.

For Kon, the focus on artifacts, material culture, and people's habits was reflective of economic, socio-political tendencies, and cultural life of a place. They were in essence, new qualitative ways of interpreting the city, of what escapes the architect’s or planner’s intentions, what is done to the built environment in relation to the practices of its inhabitants. He recorded cracks on bowls at a cafe he frequented, which was representative of economic challenges that businesses were going through. 

But Japan was also at the height of its imperial and colonial conquests in Asia. In the aftermath of the earthquake, the Japanese public was thrown into chaos and into believing that Koreans and other ethnic minorities were committing arson, looting, and violence in the name of the Korean Independence Movement. Rumors of civil unrest accusing Koreans of poisoning local wells spread, ignoring that cloudy well water is a recognized phenomenon after large earthquakes. sediment. Regardless, murky waters corroborated the false allegations and the Kanto Massacre ensued. People wearing Korean and Chinese garments, those with accents or unable to pronounce certain shibboleths with proper dialects, and even people who had excessive facial hair not common in Japanese culture at the time, were chased down and killed. Families went into hiding or found refuge in the homes of philanthropic locals. 

Without criticality, ethnography and observations are misunderstood only as a means of differentiating and many times, used for malice. And although we are in a moment when the call for institutional diversification has reached its peak, these efforts seem to fall into the trappings of reductive datascaping and checklists. 

I should also note that the very first major of Architecture was introduced to Joseon (present day Korea) in 1919 at Kyungsung Industrial Technical University, which was established by the colonial rule of the Empire of Japan. Between 1919 to 1945, there were approximately 60 or so graduates of the program who would come to represent Korea’s first generation of modern Architects. With formalized training, the Architect would come to replace the traditional 목수 (mōk-su), or ‘carpenters’, who practiced their craft through their senses and years of acquired experience. Construction materials shifted from wood, to steel and concrete. Most colonial government buildings were laid out by Japanese Architects with western training, whereas Joseon Architects were tasked with personal residences and commercial buildings(손정목). Consequently, many traditional building practices were banned and existing structures of cultural significance fell into disrepair under colonial rule (peter). There are many who still debate whether there is a modern Korean architectural style, attributing it to the remnants and practices of multiple colonial eras. 

Shawn Wilson, who is Opaskwayak Cree from Northern Manitoba, discusses in his book, Research is ceremony, that the notion of objectivity in institutional research comes from the idea of separation. He goes on to write that

“One major difference between those dominant paradigms and an Indigenous paradigm is that those dominant paradigms build on the fundamental belief that knowledge is an individual entity: the researcher is an individual in search of knowledge, knowledge is something that is gained, and therefore, knowledge may be owned by an individual. An Indigenous paradigm comes from the fundamental belief that knowledge is relational. Knowledge is shared. It is not just interpersonal relationships, or just with the research subjects I may be working with, but it is a relationship with all of creation. It is with the cosmos; it is with the animals, with the plants, with the earth that we share this knowledge. It goes beyond the idea of individual knowledge to the concept of relational knowledge ... you are answerable to all your relations when you are doing research”