A (not so)
personal
diary

It takes time and love and a considerable amount of patience to make a model. It involves meticulous attention to detail holding your breath while gluing dozens of tiny figures, fitting “glass walls” and “planting trees”. In the rush and urgency of today, model-making may appear outdated, naive, and overly idealistic. Yet, some of us continue this pursuit. For many, the process of crafting and constructing, even on a miniature scale, morphs into a form of meditation. It’s not screen time - my hands bring my ideas to life. Each stroke and cut is made with a mindset of material conservation and caution to errors, training us to use resources wisely, as if we couldn't instantly undo, correct or effortlessly edit. Sort of like in life.

The model, a crafted small scaled replica of the spaces we envision, remains difficult to compete with for a 2D generated render image, regardless of its impeccable detail. Engaging with an object that you can touch and observe from different angles allows for a very personal projection into the space, reminiscent of how we’d do as kids. In its imperfection of being assembled by hands and not a machine, the model awakens the latent child within us, this creature still deeply attuned to the joy of play as part of its intrinsic nature. Thus, it creates a profoundly human connection between us – the makers and the users- the ones that try to imagine themselves inhabiting our spaces. A common language, that we all aim for and struggle with. Because who doesn’t like to play?