The problem with the chair is that we don't use it to sit. More efficient would be a bench or an armchair. Spend more time lying down than with your back reclined at 90 degrees.
On the bench, the chair and the armchair.
The chair is for one, the armchair for two, the bench for while.
What would happen if we spent more time crouched down, closer to the ground, that no piece of furniture exceeded a meter and a half in height in order to expand the house? I think, naturally (although without knowing) of Japan and the Japanese house. How true is what we see in the photos, the mat and the floor? Our relationship with the ground, our relationship with the floor, not only the soles of the feet touch it, but also the buttocks, and thus the ceiling grows.
Our relationship with objects and furniture and the way we understand architecture. Architecture is a warehouse of all this and apart from that it accommodates the human being. But the protagonist is the object, the piece of furniture, the thing.
Write as a drawing, without thinking (much) about what is being said, and later, when editing, it will be refined, thrown away and rescued. Sketch by way of writing, without giving it much importance or thought, later the details will be fine-tuned. Wandering and incomplete thoughts. Paragraphs that jump from one idea to another, some will be rescued, others discarded.
Imagine details, build pieces, draw or design them.
A blank notebook or a grid. Change everything. The limit and the void. The dimension, the scale and the proportion.
In the smooth, the void presents confusion, presents freedom, presents opposition. On the other hand, the guides of a grid allow you not to get lost, not to skip lines, to write, not to draw; besides that they function as a natural graphic scale: the square of several centimeters.
It also changes the color of the leaf. The leaf whitish, brown, orange or white, pale, black. Draw the light to see the shadow, draw the shadow to see the light.
Impressionism is always a good reference. The drawings and engravings of George Seurat. The darkness, as in Rembrandt, hardly leaves anything to show. A wall and its shadow, what is behind. A slot without glass. Know what to see. One neckline, one sleeve. A dress under the guise of light or shadow, the color of the skin. Sensuality in architecture. the lattice A mole on the skin or a stain on the wall.
Architecture is not shown as what it has to be, but as what it is and probably can become.
It may be that architecture is not that complicated, it may be that there is only one answer and that one, out of passion, leisure, anxiety or foolishness, focuses on finding answers to questions that do not exist. The answer may be the igloo, the tipi or the cave, but, after all, there is the city.