A music conservatory and a greenhouse appear to be foreign to one another. Conceptually, however, they are incredibly alike: they are both centred on a desire to whilst one preserves plant life, the other preserves the art of music performance. And what are the implications of such practices? To place an enclosure around something? To keep it unimpaired? To trap it, to weigh it down, to render it inaccessible?
This project began as a consideration of the weight of preservation and developed into a play between opposites: lightness and dark, lightness and weight. It recognises the fundamental differences present but does not attempt to find a middle ground. Rather, it acknowledges the strength in each and exaggerates their differences. It is about the beauty of dark and the beauty of light and the transitory moments between the two.
The music conservatory is buried underground, deliberately positioned as the unknown. In stark contrast, the greenhouse elements slide out of the cliff face, subject to no form of enclosure and exposed to both the lightness of the exterior and the fragility of its own elements.
The light habitable pathway through which plants are scattered connects two sides of habitable earth, and to move from one side to the next the individual must experience the full spectrum. They move between inside and outside, light to dark, small space to large space then back again. They loop around a central music hall conserved within the ground. It is only after passing between the experiences that they finally reach the hall: the mysterious, buried hall - and in the process they have come to understand the differences between lightness and dark, lightness and weight. The rest is up to them. Which one will they choose? Lightness or weight?
