one year on: some thoughts on ‘home’

It will soon be my one year anniversary of leaving England and returning ‘home’ to Melbourne, Australia. I came with a return ticket – couldn’t face buying a one-way – what if it all didn’t work out? What if? What if? It’s funny how in this year, one of the many adventures I have had was returning to UK and heading up to Findhorn to dance in a choreographic lab with Deborah Hay (and 20 others). What if? What if? If you’re familiar with Deborah Hay there’s no more to say. If not, then I could leave you with one of her fantastically generative, dancing questions:

What if it is not what we do as dancers but how we engage the billions of passing moments in the space where we are dancing, either in solo or group work, we will learn to practice the how of performing?


Amaara Raheem, Hestia, Asia House, London, 2014

Here I am channeling Hestia, the Greek Goddess of the home, the hearth. Here I am channeling Hestia in an old, colonial London mansion-house that has been turned into an arts and cultural venues called Asia House. Here I am in 2014 dancing through the process of deciding ‘yes! this is an end of an era’. Note how the fireplace in this ornate room, the site of Hestia, has been taken out. Is that a coincidence? Am I someone who has forgotten the rituals of putting out the home fires? Probably. Often when I left a ‘home’ it was without awareness or true intent. The first instance (Colombo – Melbourne), I was only 10 years old and it was in the midst of a civil war, so forgivable. In the second instance I was 27 years old and thought I was just going backpacking for two years (Melbourne – London). By the time 15 years passed I really didn’t know if I would find the way back ‘home’. Surely, the birds had long eaten my trail of crumbs? Maybe, but it didn’t matter, Hestia helped me remember. So, here I am calling upon the Greek deity of colonisation, stability, home-making, to guide me back, or is it forwards? Here I am having lived more than one lifetime, having loved in more than one place, having the kind of accent, face, demeanour, presence of a person from nowhere in particular and, everywhere in general. Not displacement exactly rather, ‘multiple belongings’.

Perhaps it comes as no surprise that my PhD in the School of Architecture and Design is addressing ‘home’. In yet another iteration of writing that attempts to understand and name what I am doing I say:

The discipline of dance is a ‘home’ and I have mostly known ‘home’ through the act of leaving it and situating myself elsewhere in relation to it. Artists in exile making work about ‘home’ has a long history and it is with this in mind that I position myself as outsider or ‘border artist’ (Gomez-Pena) in the School of Architecture and Design. To work philosophically and kinaesthetically with the following concepts – ‘becoming’, ‘equivalence’ and ‘difference’ – sits at the heart of my doctoral projects. Here, the relationships between movement, language and ‘home’ are offered as a continuous sites of becoming; spaces in which to subtract or multiply ‘self’; where the personal is political, the political is personal and the borders between fact and fiction merge, meander; where the body is offered as surface for place-making. 

This blog is not the place to write everything, if such a thing were even possible. But carefully and methodologically – if for no one’s purposes but my own – I’d like to reflect upon this year: February 2015 – February 2016: a year of becoming, a year of BIG surprises, a year of adventuring, a year of departure and arrivals, a year of being under the Southern Sky.

Some different kind of writing that can be offered as Ariadne’s thread – a secret passageway through the maze of lived history – to tell the stories that only I can tell:

subterranean metals shimmer like firecrackers; performing subjectivity they snack on insects, bittersweet; this is a message-in-a-bottle bobbing on a sea of silence; I am in a wilder space now, I am re-wilding – not language as Robert MacFarlane does – but this surface called my body; it is a passage of time tucked inside itself – a russian doll of selfs, so to speak; flyweight to heavyweight she is feeling the weight and the wait of the PhD; it takes the time it takes (smile); the gravity of new beginnings means uphill climbs are difficult but necessary; remember how crossing Mt Graham was surprisingly tender? she has returned back to the drafting table to build it all over again, this time straight and true. 


Amaara Raheem, Hestia, Asia House, London, 2014







The Sky is Falling. The Money’s All Gone.


‘All The Things We Can Do’ by Hamish McPherson

I wished you to be persuaded, that success in your art depends almost entirely on your own industry; but the industry which I principally recommend, is not the industry of the hands, but of the mind… ” (Sir Joshua Reynols, 1969)

Despite being accused by the Pre-Raphaelites of ignoring the truth in favour of ideal beauty Sir Joshua Reynolds, President of Royal Academy gave a series of lectures entitled ‘Discourses VII’ in 1769 to art students. This ‘manifesto’ now considered to be the founding text of British painting theory, elevated art as an activity of the mind, not the hand, and called on painters to imbue their work with much more than simply what they saw in front of them.

Thus, in 2014 the game-changing act of thinking-as-seeing and doing-as-making continues to be a way for artists to gather and think collectively to questions such as this, posed by Chicago based art collective, Lucky Pierre.

How can artists respond to and work against despair amid evidence of ongoing economic, environmental, and social fragility? Are we the relief workers of the new collapse? 

A call-out via Arts Admin DIY workshop goes live, inviting us to research, share, argue and collaborate on-line. In the same year, British dance artist Hamish McPherson runs a series of events called ‘All The Things We Can Do‘ – an invitation to an attempt at an exploration. Six art/ life events for artists, philosophers and other citizens, using choreographic strategies to engage with politics and citizenship through the body.

Both activities involve active participation, creative citizenship and promote methods of making, together. One is live, the other virtual. Both suggest together,


I participate in both, gathering and contributing my own resources, trying to find ways to co-create frameworks for understanding our present ‘economic, environmental, and social fragility through historical study, systemic and collective analysis, and artistic/creative expression’ (L.P.F.U).

In response to Prompt 2, by L.P.F.U asking, where is it safe? What is austerity? Is there hope? What is progress? here is my response.

Subsequently presented at Propellor Fund Space, Chicago.



The map is not the territory


From an artwork by Lucy Cash at Dance and Somatic Practices Conference, Coventry 2015

Linnankatu, 9 – Eurohostel – Room 629

After a relatively sleepless night I arrived in Helsinki airport at 3pm. I caught the city service bus to the centre and wandered about the old, railway station looking for tourist information. It was nowhere to be found. I asked a few people if they knew Linnankatu. I told them in advance that I probably wasn’t pronouncing it right however, I’d written it down in my diary and I showed them the address. No one had heard of it. Mistakenly it seems, I had thought from the reviews online that Eurohostel was a mere 10 feet from the station. “Perhaps it doesn’t exist” said one man. This is one of the worst things one human being could say to another, especially when that other has a backpack on her shoulders, a large suitcase attached and has been travelling since 5am. However that very man turned from foe to friend when he magicked a city map from nowhere, and stayed close, as we searched together for Linnankatu, which he eventually sourced. He patiently explained me how to get there what tram to take.

He: It’s the four or the fourtee

Me: Four or the fourteen?

He: Not fourteen, fourtee!

Me: Oh, forty.

He: NO. Not fourteen, not forty but fourtee!!

Me: (helpessly) what is fourtee?

He: FOURTEE!! You know t!! (he makes the sign for the letter t with his body) Like, t for …. terrorist!

Me: Oh, the 4T.

We had a good laugh at t-for-terrorist. Especially when he tried to back track by saying “I meant t for terminal”.

I was amazed at the amount of time he gave me, a man on his way from A to B, just stopping to help a stranger. Different city = different speed. T for traveller. T for today. T for thank-you.

I followed his directions and his map and found myself waiting for tram no: 4 or 4T. I had to remind myself several times that they drive on the other side of the road here. I boarded the tram. I had a ticket in my purse from the bus I’d caught from the airport. I wasn’t entirely sure it was valid, but I did think I could effectively plead a case of not knowing if a t-for-ticket-inspector arrived in our midst.

The day was cloudy and a little humid. I had reduced my things to a suitcase I could actually carry – it wasn’t exactly light, but it also wasn’t the suitcase I’d left Melbourne with a little over a week ago. Yesterday, in London, I gave away two bags of clothes. Lesson #49: there is nothing to match the art of travelling light.

The tram trotted down the street with great speed, along a road it knew. I was following the map in my hand and the street names. After approximately 1 minute they no longer connected. Very soon, roadworks and suburban houses, magnificent churches and the Port of Helsinki. Even before I could read the names fully they flashed by, not that it mattered the names were unreadable, much less pronounceable: Uudenmaaskatu for example. At one stop, two women with suitcases left the tram. Should I follow them? Are they going to the Eurohostel? I looked at a sign: Skatuddskajen. I looked at the map. No correlation. The tram sped off. A family with backpacks. Them? There? Katajanokka. More and more into the the suburbs. Surely, not as far as this? At the end of the tram stop it was just me and the sea. The driver opened the doors and looked at me from the rear view mirror. I shook my head. The doors closed. The tram, the driver nor I moved. When I finally went to him to ask directions, he spoke very good english. Why this surprised me I am not sure. “I wait here for 5 minutes” he said “but you could walk there in two. Down the hill, to your left. Eurohostel? Right?”

In room 629, lying on my bed watching the seagulls swoop and swirl into the cloudy sky I remembered the young man on the airport shuttle bus who said to his friends “this is the furtherest east I’ve ever been.”

“The furtherest east?!” queried his female friend, wearing a lovely bright pink lipstick and a very low cut t-shirt that said wan-der-lust. “Yes” replied the man “one can almost smell the communism”. His group fell about laughing. “Ok, comment no: 1” said his friend with the beard. Come to think of it they all had beards.

In the K Market earlier this evening, I was looking at yoghurts and found one which had a picture of a woman in a red headscarf with long brown plaits, smiling. It looked like a yoghurt from another era and was called Bulgarian Yoghurt. Later, I ate it with a very fine pear.

treading water

high low colour 001

new research project: ‘treading water’. Photo by Simon Green.

So I took this workshop in the library organised by the SGR – School of Graduate Research – called ‘Finding the Authority of your Academic Voice’ or something like that and it was very good. Very useful, I mean. And it got me thinking about authority and voice and choreography and cartography and the position one takes irregardless of the speculative nature of being and making art. And, I’ve joined this philosophy reading group – otherwise I never will read philosophy – and we’re reading 20 pages of ‘Phenomenology of Perception’ by Maurice Merleu-Ponty every week, gathering together in Dr. Mammad Aidani’s tiny office in the old quadrangle of Melbourne University and discussing  existence of being every week, often to the bells which toll upon the hour. I feel transported to Italy, as it was in E.M Forster’s ‘Room with a View’ i.e. the classical civilisation.

Tip to finding authority i: avoid using too many ands in a paragraph.

Last night on the train I was reading ‘100 Artists Manifestos’ and I was shocked, delighted and energised by the authority in the writing. Instructions, lists, manifestos – I’m wondering if my entire PhD could just consist of one long list. Last night on TV, Jamie Oliver was cooking his 15 minute meal – kedigree – and I noticed his casual authority. Clearly this man knows how to use a knife. But he’s so carefree with it. Is this his success?

Tip to finding authority ii: know when to be speculative and ask questions – it covers your academic back and makes you sound less pompous.

Coming into relation with authority is a process. I have been fortunate enough to be surrounded by colleagues and supervisors who don’t pull rank and wave their doctorates around like magic wands. But I do remember when I graduated – the ritual of graduation – the ceremony began with a procession of academics, and I saw my supervisors/lecturers/friends/colleagues walk up in various academic robes, medals and hats and I was taken aback by the authority of costume as well as overwhelmed that I was surrounded by people, mainly women, who had achieved so much. The weight of their learning and teaching and embodied knowledge knocked me for a six.

Tip to finding authority iii: use more nouns than verbs.

Reading Tim Ingold (why is academia obsessed with this man?) writing about wayfaring I was very aware of authority. He writes with great charge and ascendancy about being lost.

I have to say I’m not entirely convinced by notions of authority. I understand that authority makes people comfortable – ‘oh she knows what she’s doing’ – and when you’re claiming new knowledge what else can you be? And, on the other hand I’ve heard people (at conferences) speak with great authority and it only takes a few scratches of the surface to think – ‘well you do have a great vocabulary but what the hell are you a talking about?’

The Emperor’s new clothes comes to mind.

What a beautiful story that is.

Did you know it was originally Danish and it’s been translated to over a hundred languages?

In the old tarot deck there the card 0 is The Fool. Otherwise known as “the jester”, “the beggar”, “the madman”, “the vagabond”. He is barefoot, he carries a stick to which is attached a bundle, filled with his worldly belongings. He whistles a merry tune. He is a wayfarer.

The Fool is the highest trump. He is the Ace. The jester’s trick can beat The King. He is an excuse. A wild card i.e. he fills the missing gap.

He represents unlimited potential. The reason he is 0 in the deck is because he lives only in the present and therefore needs no number. enters the mysteries of life. He makes mistakes. He trusts and is deceived but trusts again. He is without fear.

Tip to finding authority iv: Convince your readers by leading them through the most convincing ordering of your ideas.

act 1 713

Framework for a Practice-Based PhD

I IMG_4629find this video  by Professor Richard Blythe, Dean of School of Architecture and Design at RMIT University extremely useful, both when I was applying for PhD candidature and a scholarship + now, as a practice-based candidate. I think what’s most useful is that it speaks to anyone intending to undertake a PhD in any discipline. If you’re currently writing an application or thinking of doing a practice-based PhD, watch it. Use it.

‘Framework for a Practice-Based PhD’: click here for video.

Colliding Passages

Glen Forbes Camp

Glen Forbes Camp

In the current neoliberal global market that is Education survival of the fittest has shifted from an implicit instinct to an explicit strategy. Coupled with an increasing obsession with systematic and outward results there is little time and little space to question our ‘real’ responses to the unknown, the unexpected, the unconventional, risk and yet, these notions are common currency in creative practice and research and we all use them in every abstract / proposal we write. So what does it mean to gather a disparate bunch of PhD candidates (from Fashion, Architecture, Interior Design, Gold and Silversmithing, Choreography & Performance, Landscape) and go to a Scout Camp in country Victoria and hang out from Friday – Sunday in a place made for 10 year olds? And do things together – things that arise from varied individual practices colliding with the collective – and to reflect on the affect that that has on space, bodies, writing, objects. That was the objective of the first Pflab 2015. In other words to depart from external time to internal time, social time, eating-all-together time, play-time.


a Scout hall in the hands of a designer – Mick Douglas, Pflab 2015

Glen Forbes camp was discovered by Mick Douglas when his children were in Clifton Hill Primary School where some visionary at the School had the foresight to buy a Scout Camp so that inner city kids could spend time playing in the bush. He told us of the happy times he’d had in this place being part of collective children / parent communities fostered by camping out under the stars. We arrived to a bunkhouse  and 8 canvas tents laid out in a field, a hall with long wooden tables, long wooden benches and a long wooden floor, kitchen attached, the Ablutions Block with excellent hot showers, rolling hills, cows, horses, plenty of gum trees filled with romps of kookaburras laughing at dawn.

Glen Forbes Camp

Glen Forbes Camp

Aims of Pflab, 2015 or what I understood as its intentions:

To create a collaborative community for PhD researchers in what can often be a very long and lonely task;

To test how individual research can be mined collectively;

To actively steer away from the usual strategies of individuals working and thinking as islands

To share knowledge and strategies for building a sustainable creative / research practice;

To spend time cooking, eating, cleaning, camping, working, resting, questioning, listening;

To give time and space to the non-verbal;

To find unexpected connections and new pathways of doing / thinking;

To be human, together;

To collectively investigate how we might, as a group, ‘perform mobile identities’ at the upcoming PSi Fluid States Conference ‘Performing Mobilities’ in October 2015;

To make do with less resources.

by Kathy Waghorn, PFlab 2015

Badges by Kathy Waghorn (Architecture), PFlab 2015. We all picked some out at random. One of mine read ‘paddling’.

For me this weekend was a gateway, a threshold, a rite of passage.

I’m in it now.

I’ve dived in.

There’s no turning back.


Testing Agent: an experiment by Roseanne Bartley (Jewellery), Pflab 2015. Photo of me by me.

I think it continues to stun many (liberal, open-minded, conscious) Australians just how integrated Maori culture is in New Zealand in comparison to Australia where Aboriginal culture is largely invisible. One of the PhD candidates lives and works in New Zealand suggested an opening introductory session on the Saturday loosely based on a Maori tradition where people who are gathering, before they begin with any agenda or meeting orientate themselves by saying which mountain they’re from, which river etc. This is how we began – with our relationship to place and tribe.

Of course that’s something when you’re displaced like me.

where is my mountain / who are my people?



Water: by Saskia Schut (Landscape Architecture), Pflab 2015.

On Saturday night, in the old Scout hall, beside a crackling fire I wrote the following list; a kind of stock-take of our day.

watercrakers overflowing tipping point to lead and to follow in a pink dressing gown it’s Charlie’s 12th birthday the weight of stones released gold and silversmithing three cheese risotto colliding passages white clogs yoga with Mick by the horses fresh figs sliced the dance-off with eye contact presence / present / pre-sent apples from the neighbour’s tree rope poly-vocality snacks death-rituals starry starry night the lightest touch blue tarpaulin “it’s uneven” “on the contrary” “checked all the fences?” Runaway Bay the imagined disc-course White Rabbit white ale being done to being horizontal the performance of succeeding and failing the Ablutions Block drawing on the windows to throw pine cones in the fire spinning pot lids country cows blood trickling down an apartment block in Iowa bulldog clips scattering

Swapping clothes by Adele Varcoe (Fashion), Pflab 2015

Swapping clothes by Adele Varcoe (Fashion), Pflab 2015

As usual the weekend was full, overflowing with encountering. But there was enough space and non-verbal doing / building / making time to feel renewed by the experience rather than exhausted. Increasingly I’m coming to the conclusion that it’s fragmentation (of time and energy) that exhausts but being in one place, with no wi-fi, all together now that provides a certain kind of rest even though the days are filled. It was no holiday. And yet …

So what was useful? What remains?

One of the most important things I got out of it was a sense of community. I am not alone in this. There’s others, somewhere ahead on the path (I was the only one at the start of the PhD) but somehow we’re all in this together, including our supervisors – there is no us & them. It was also an opportunity to share my discipline. The School of Architecture and Design is very experimental, very open, very able to change, on all levels – otherwise they wouldn’t have offered me (and many others) a place in their School however, Choreography – being a dance practitioner / performer (in its original sense as opposed to the notion that everybody is (or can be) a performer and every act is (potentially) performative) – is something new in this context. The usual standpoint of spectatorship were immediately put to question. Also, the notion of doing one thing. Poly-vocality or multiple channels of entry seems to be favoured. But I am not ready to throw out the conventions of theatre just yet. Is the old relationship of watching / doing over? If not, how in the 21st C do we present a performance in which witnessing can be active without it becoming a participatory performance? Who am I relating to when I perform? How can the audience see and be a part of it? These are not new questions in the field. Nonetheless I’m grappling with them.


Building together in silence, Pflab 2015

What about enchantment? What about spell-binding? What about transporting the audience in time and space to another world? Isn’t this why we all love film? What about escape? Not mindless escape that shuts down the body-mind but the journey to mytho-poetic space/time and when you return you come back with more than you left, or less even, but what I mean is that you are changed – irrevocably – and you are grateful and even, humbled. What about the presence or present of one thing – in a world of multiple channels? What about singularity? What about expertise?

What is an expert anyway? Is expert a dirty word?


  1. a person who is very knowledgeable about or skilful in a particular area.

    Working together, Pflab 2015

    It was wonderful to be around people who were so at ease with objects from pinecones to light installations to stewed apricots to tarpaulin to felt to flannelette shirts to safety pins to mountain rope – the weekend was filled with sewing, building, making, drawing, and yes, dancing!


    Chaotic: by Roseanne Bartley, set in the female toilets, you had to chaotically throw felt over your torso and take a selfie on her phone.

Balloting i.e. curating one’s own education


Smell map Paris by Kate McLean

It is 9.30am and I am sitting in a full lecture theatre in Building 13, RMIT. It’s full of 1st, 2nd and 3rd year BA Landscape Architecture students or as they say The Lower Pool (I don’t think they mean gene pool). During my first supervision meeting both Mick and Charles (supervisors) suggested that I come along to Balloting. “It will give you a good idea of the terrain that is Landscape Architecture” they said; the what, why and how of this particular body of thinking / working. So here I am – the only one a) taking notes and b) with a notebook and pen. Old school.

There’s a short introduction about the wherefores of Balloting. A simple manifesto that reads:

  • Design in Everything
  • Modes of Practice
  • Rethinking Ideas of Representation
  • Curating your Design Education

So the way it works here at RMIT is that Lecturers present a semester long Studio. This happens both for Lower Pool (BA) and Upper Pool (MA). The students listen and don’t take notes! and then ballot for 4 studios that they’d like to participate in. It was encouraged by the BA Programme Manager that they don’t choose their studios dependent on liking a particular teacher / researcher or follow a strand that they already know, but rather stretch ideas / experiment with new methods / deepen enquiry. I studiously wrote this down, every one else jiggled their legs, scratched their beards, checked their phones.

What kind of studios are offered to Lower Pool? What kinds of thinking / doing do Landscape Architects engage in / with? Are there really strong links between Chroeography and LA (Landscape Architecture I mean, not Los Angeles)? Am I really in the right place, after all? I know I’m not doing a BA (sadly) but this is the foundation on which the rest of the glass tower is built, no? I wait in anticipation. I am the most excited, anxious person in the room.

From my notes ‘On Balloting’:

Studio: Light Works: human perception of light / space. Practices of looking and experiencing light. Determining a scale of intervention. Capacity of the work to speak for itself. Culture of feedback. Field trip to Canberra National Gallery to see James Turrell’s ‘Immersed in Light’. Studio involves walking in the city, particularly at night and observing light. Outcomes involve making own light work and working with light companies to source relevant light.

(BTW – I got in touch with the lecturer and am now going to be auditing this course! In fact, she’s really “fascinated” with choreography & performance and wants me to present to the students – what will I say? no idea)

Studio: Experiment: working in public space in a way that demonstrates design through experiments. Small changes that make a big impact. Grassroots focused. Dealing with the notion of pop-ups. Working with real client and real sites towards real outcomes.

Studio: The Valley II: on designing a bushwalk. How can you design through atmospheric and ground conditions and how does the body experience this? Students will spend 10 days on site – living in a National Park 1.5 hrs south of Sydney exploring methodologies that look at massive large scale projects and minute bodily scale projects. Methods include working with senses and critical cartography.

Studio: Meadow Lee: Notion of the a grassland in the Australian landscape. How do you manipulate the meadow? (A question I’ve never asked myself). What role does irrigation and the lawn mower play? How can the European model of a meadow be reframed in the Australia? The site will be (mowing) your own backyard. (The presumption being all students have one!)

Note: The man who gave this presentation had a very gruff, short, abrupt manner. He talked alot about the versatility and subjectivity of the lawn mower. He also wore a bright fluorescent pink pen behind his ear.

Studio: Working the Ground: this studio is based in the region of the Murray Darling basin and involves a road trip in a bus (driven by the lecturer). It is centred around developing techniques for eliciting stories from the community. How do we engender stories of landscape? Murray Darling has a rich colonial legacy – it’s full of stories about ‘back home’ i.e. England. It’s also full of contemporary stories. (This statement was accompanied by a slide of graffiti that said ‘Fuck You’ – students cheered). Studio technique asks students to work up juxtaposition. Using filmic references, ideas of collage and montage. Along the way, small pop-up exhibitions will be exposed in campsites, inviting fellow campers to engage with what they do.

I loved the concluding statement he made “camping puts us in immediate visceral communication with the ground”.

Studio: Composites: largely using Rhino (software) this studio tests and reflects on spatial concepts through drawing, programming, 3D virtual and phsyical modelling. She referred to the work of Smell Map, Paris (2013) by Kate McLean.

Note: Sensory Maps

Studio: Disturbance: is an ecological term meaning unstable landscape conditions. The site for this studio is Truganina Coastal Parkland 15km outside of Melbourne. The lecturer carrying her one year old baby which she termed “my very own disturbance prop” opened the studio by saying “if you don’t like walking, don’t sign up for this studio”. Later she used the term Geo-Mythology – “Geo-Mythology is outpacing digital technology” and restless Geomorphologies – “through walking, mapping experimenting with using your mobile phone for collection, you’ll develop your own classification logic”. The final outcome of this studio is to propose a disturbance or set of disturbances.

Studio: Overlapping Currents: this studio looks at the swimability of the Yarra (main river running through Melbourne) and peoples’ relationship to it. The outcome will be a comic inspired by this.

Studio: Kerb: opportunity for 3 undergraduate students to be editors of Kerb for one year – a high profile student led Landscape Architecture journal which (without wanting to sound like an ad) is sold in all good book shops.

Well, that was the morning. The afternoon was taken up with Design Research Seminars and Upper Pool Balloting Presentations. I (like the other students) stopped taking notes mainly because I came to understand that it’s all online! Of course. If you’re still reading this and still interested then look at the posters that accompany each presentation –

The whole experience was very insightful and fascinating. I feel much more grounded knowing the kind of context I am to be working in / from. And, this was just LA – next semester I’ll go the Architecture and Design Balloting Presentations.

But no doubt, you’ll hear from me before then.

Maps are my new best friends!


Smell Map, Amsterdam by Kate McLean