Georgia's Chicken comfort

 

Ugg boots feel amazing after a big day walking,

a massage is incredible after having a sore back...

discomfort = comfort.

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Welcome to the MCV. Manufactured Comfort Vortex.

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The Meal: 

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Chicken comfort. The MCV is the architectural synthesis of this meal.

It is a  traditional Scottish shepherd’s pie with a chicken twist. My mum makes it for our family on cold, winter nights,

and for members of our community when they are going through a rough patch.

It is the ultimate hug and tastes better after a rough day (discomfort)

 

The Architecture:

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Organized as a production line, the MCV is made of multiple cafes. the cafes embody all that is comfortable. Their design is informed by a survey I took from my friends, asking them what they find comfort in a building. The results: Soft timbers, natural light, fireplaces, cotton, open plan, 50% hospitality and service.

• 50% hospitality is synthesized in the Wallice and Grommit inspired food service, where the kitchen is linked to the seats via a factory-style belt.

• Cotton is incorporated not only on the seats and the chef uniform, but it is also abstracted in the circulation in the subterranean realm beneath the cafes.

  • Pesticide: Entrance: stark white tunnel, stripping back the colours of the street

  • Harvest: in the subterranean world there is a repetitive field of poles, morphing reality, designed to capture your attention

  • Separate: like separating the cotton from the stems, the path guides your journey, separating you from the street.

  • This path is designed to be uncomfortable. Its form was created after studying hostile architecture mainly located around CBDs. Hostile architecture is produced to stop homeless people sleeping on benches or skaters railing features.

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The journey to the café is uncomfortable, to accentuate the comfort in the café.

Quickly introduce other objects: waffle floor, hostile architecture, impossible ladder…

The MCV is a vortex because it is a dead-end project. You must traverse back through the labyrinth to return to the street, reiterating the cyclical nature of comfort and discomfort

The constant endeavour is explored through The Story of the Man and the Building.

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The Story of The Man and The Building

 

It was another bitter and bleak morning in Melbourne.

The man sat patiently inside the cold tram, daydreaming about the warm flannelette sheets he had left just minutes ago.

He thought of dualism as bizarre, and intriguing.

The hot, the cold
The new, the old

The bad, the good
The can, the could

Everywhere he looked there was seemingly opposite or contrary forces that may actually be complementary, interconnected, interrelated.

“stop number 22, Brunswick road!” exclaimed the tram conductor.

He shook from his daydream, quickly finding his myki, and made his way to the grand reopening of the Park st café.

He struggled to find the entrance at first, as the metal reflected the context, hibernating the dense structure.

If it weren’t for a boy that ran past him, he would have never found it. 

“would you like some stilts?” the girl asked at the door.

“Why on earth would I need stilts?”

“they are optional of course, but I warn you, the path is a vortex if you don’t take them I can give you only my best wishes”

“I think I will take the path” he murmured with concern.

“good luck!”

Slowly he walked down the starks white stairs, and the colours of reality dissolved.

*You are here* he read.

As he tried to comprehend the intensity of this subterranean world, his mind and body were harvested, overwhelmed with curiosity, and the need to get to that cafe over there to relax.

He continually sprained his ankles as he traversed the path. He navigated the impossible ladders, he craved relief from the and the endless discomfort!

He finally got to some awful stairs and made his way up to the café.

“AHHHHHHHH” he exhaled.

The fire, the food, the cushions, the smells, the materials and the sounds joy and laughter.

He was a willing prisoner to the cloud-like cushion, enjoying the strange sponge handled spoon.

He stayed for hours, enjoying the deep comfort of the building and eating the chicken dish that was promised in the magazines.

Although. it began to dawn on him,

“How am I going to get back?”

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THE END

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Comfort is always secondary to discomfort, and we as designers can control this.

To do so successfully, we need to investigate what is unpleasant, so we can continue

to create frameworks for true and deep comfort.  

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