Assignment 1: Birth of the pony pt.2

The second analogue model is far more resolved formally, however spatially still alittle awkward. Again i used the notion of tredectory, but this time coupled it with with an agressive dark into

the light idea, sybolic to my characters change.

The second sketchup model proved to be the most resolved of them all, taking the best parts and leaving the unsucessful ideas. I played with the character as being the tower herself, acsending the steps and looking forward everytime she entered. She would reflect upon her journey to the current time, and the future that awaits her.

Lets see where this takes me.

Assignment 1: Birth of the pony pt.1

First time attepting sketchup was far less dramatic than i inticipated. The first sketchup model proved to be a testing ground for theory and also form along side. Formally, it is robust and frankly quite grotesque. However, its the most important model as it utilises and displays my initial form design and experimentation.





The first design spark came from the idea of the tower as a direction of tradectory. Using the tower as also a timeline for my character, i could 'map' out her journey through form. She had a rough start to life is represented in this tower, through to a 'lauching' of form, symbolic to her turnaround in lifestyle.

























The highlight of this model is the fenestration that wraps itself into the upper storey and support the desk.





The next model was in fact a card model. Here i just let lose in form making. However i still was captivated by the whole 'tower of tradectory' and this model was an advancement of the same idea.






































The idea was this crashing tower, smashing her past away, bit like a tennis ball in water.



Part 2 next

My Character

Nailswoman- nail store

She didn’t want to end up here….god; this was the last place she wanted to end up. Want ever happened to her life... She looked around the empty parlor, a soulless place were depressed middle age divorcees came to dispel their domestics to ‘couldn’t care enough’ employees.

Life was meant to be so much easier to deal with than this and smoking was the escape. This addition then spread like a parasite throughout her brain, triggering a reliance on smoking pot. Her friends were doing drugs and she didn’t disappoint them. She was even the first to start selling the stuff. Her addiction gathered steam, spreading to other forms of powdered abuse. Every night after work, she and her friends would gather at their old high school playground. They would pass a joint around and talk while dangling wildly on the swings. Fun was their motto for life and everything else was just a waste of time. In their eyes they were enlightened, they were free.

The nail parlor was her other life, a life that she despised and fought so had to suppress was becoming her life and couldn’t shake it off. It was like restricting goo that clang on her, engulfing her. The nights abusing substance were meant to rid herself from it but it seemed to get worse every time. This goo eventually became the world she had tried to fight against. She was a robot, amongst a vast army of slaves that worked miserable jobs, where the ten minute smoko break was the highlight of their existence until they contracted heart failure from the fast food that the pressure from their very jobs made them eat.

Progressively, others joined in to their nightly ritual, defying the very slots of existence that the world had prepared for them to be plugged into. The boys provided another escape, giving her a spray can and a wall. She puzzled over their eagerness to do this ‘art’. That was so primary school! Despite her doubts, she gave it a go. Her concentration overtook her misgivings. Her fluid hand movements traced the image in her minds eye. It was such a rewarding experience. The boys gathered around her, applauding her new-found talent. She truly felt at home, at peace with herself, as if she could express herself completely without anyone to listen to her. It was her and the wall. How simple was it. Life couldn’t be more beautiful than this.

Her destiny became clear after that night. Life can be so much more than loathing it every night. The restricting goo that engulfed her for years washed away in an instant, renewing her inside and out. She was a new person. The graffiti was unconventional artwork and wasn’t recognized as an artistic media. She enrolled into classes by day and expressed herself by night. She now understood that the world is full of beauty. All you had to do is take a part of it with two hands.