Small Community Building -INBETWEAV

An interweaving of body, earth, and space

The project explores the idea of fields — spaces where material, body, memory, and land intertwine.
I chose to engage with artificial fields, inspired by the work of artist Spencer Tunick, who photographs nude human bodies spread across open spaces, transforming them into a living, collective landscape.

The work examines a complex system of human relationships — a connection formed through the gaze, while at the same time marked by physical separation.
Through analyzing the image, I discovered that the relationships between figures are defined by distance, angle, and exposure: the one in front of me feels close, while the one beside me fades from presence.
The state of nudity intensifies both vulnerability and absence, creating a delicate tension between intimacy and detachment.

From this insight, I began translating these relationships into spatial models.
I worked with different groups of elements to understand how relationships can be constructed — connection, separation, or an ongoing tension between them.

When choosing the site, I found a direct correspondence between the network of human relations and the urban landscape.
I selected the typography site, where the street itself becomes a grid — a system of lines, connections, and thresholds.
This grid became both a design tool and a conceptual language — structural yet emotional, organizational yet personal — a typography that I create with my own hands.

Integrating the grid into my design process allowed me to study what is revealed and what remains hidden, and how layers interact in a liminal state where each one uncovers the other.

In one gesture, I dug into the ground and returned the soil in intervals of two meters — as I did in the “Railway Chapter.”
Through this action, a dual process emerged: I weave my project into the earth, and the earth weaves itself into my project.
This act represents the reciprocal relationship between matter, memory, and place, where the boundary between body and land becomes blurred.

I returned to the early groups I had formed, organizing the program into three main clusters, as seen in the drawings.
The language of connection between them relies on distance — the farther one is in space, the closer they may become through the gaze.

The spatial disconnection originated from two parallel walls facing one another, within each space, creating a simultaneous sense of closeness and distance.
Later, the walls became glass partitions, with vegetation growing between them — unreachable yet visible — forming a fragile boundary between seeing and touching, between proximity and separation.
The distance between them varies from fifty centimeters to two meters, echoing the rhythm of the typographic structure itself.

In my early models, I began to play with perspective — sometimes I see only part of you, sometimes not at all.
The change of angle shifts the experience, altering the relationship between interior and exterior, between exposure and concealment.

From these explorations, the groups evolved into small compositions of three elements.
Along the northern façade, larger openings create a direct dialogue with the park, while the southern façade remains enclosed and self-contained — the body folding inward.

Even within the internal structure, a continuous relationship unfolds between openness and enclosure, between visibility and concealment.
In perspective, one can see how the typography itself becomes interwoven into the spatial fabric — from the railway axis to the lecture hall — until the entire project transforms into a single living tissue of earth, matter, light..
n interweaving of body, earth, and space
The Project – Fields of Body and Earth

The project explores the idea of fields — spaces where material, body, memory, and land intertwine.
I chose to engage with artificial fields, inspired by the work of artist Spencer Tunick, who photographs nude human bodies spread across open spaces, transforming them into a living, collective landscape.

The work examines a complex system of human relationships — a connection formed through the gaze, while at the same time marked by physical separation.
Through analyzing the image, I discovered that the relationships between figures are defined by distance, angle, and exposure: the one in front of me feels close, while the one beside me fades from presence.
The state of nudity intensifies both vulnerability and absence, creating a delicate tension between intimacy and detachment.

From this insight, I began translating these relationships into spatial models.
I worked with different groups of elements to understand how relationships can be constructed — connection, separation, or an ongoing tension between them.

When choosing the site, I found a direct correspondence between the network of human relations and the urban landscape.
I selected the typography site, where the street itself becomes a grid — a system of lines, connections, and thresholds.
This grid became both a design tool and a conceptual language — structural yet emotional, organizational yet personal — a typography that I create with my own hands.

Integrating the grid into my design process allowed me to study what is revealed and what remains hidden, and how layers interact in a liminal state where each one uncovers the other.

In one gesture, I dug into the ground and returned the soil in intervals of two meters — as I did in the “Railway Chapter.”
Through this action, a dual process emerged: I weave my project into the earth, and the earth weaves itself into my project.
This act represents the reciprocal relationship between matter, memory, and place, where the boundary between body and land becomes blurred.

I returned to the early groups I had formed, organizing the program into three main clusters, as seen in the drawings.
The language of connection between them relies on distance — the farther one is in space, the closer they may become through the gaze.

The spatial disconnection originated from two parallel walls facing one another, within each space, creating a simultaneous sense of closeness and distance.
Later, the walls became glass partitions, with vegetation growing between them — unreachable yet visible — forming a fragile boundary between seeing and touching, between proximity and separation.
The distance between them varies from fifty centimeters to two meters, echoing the rhythm of the typographic structure itself.

In my early models, I began to play with perspective — sometimes I see only part of you, sometimes not at all.
The change of angle shifts the experience, altering the relationship between interior and exterior, between exposure and concealment.

From these explorations, the groups evolved into small compositions of three elements.
Along the northern façade, larger openings create a direct dialogue with the park, while the southern façade remains enclosed and self-contained — the body folding inward.

Even within the internal structure, a continuous relationship unfolds between openness and enclosure, between visibility and concealment.
In perspective, one can see how the typography itself becomes interwoven into the spatial fabric — from the railway axis to the lecture hall — until the entire project transforms into a single living tissue of earth, matter, light..