AKSHAT GOYAL

Note: The following is a very personal story. This was a part of my assignment for a class I took called – ‘Intro to Sociology of Space’ by Ulicia Segerstrale at Illinois Institute of Technology, Chicago.

Embarking on the journey to unravel my environmental autobiography, inspired by the profound insights of Claire Cooper Marcus, leads me through the corridors of memory, weaving together the diverse threads of my spatial experiences. From childhood homes to continuous movement and architectural reflections, this introspection aims to unearth the intricate connections between space, identity, and the professional path I tread as an aspiring architect.

The apartment my father acquired just before marrying my mother stands as a poignant cornerstone in the narrative of my childhood. Beyond its physical dimensions, this space, where I first entered the world, has transcended its mere existence to become a sanctuary I unfailingly return to, even amidst the ever-shifting locations of my family. It serves as an unwavering anchor, witnessing the tapestry of my growth through diverse life phases, hosting numerous familial gatherings and functions—a testament to the enduring nature of early spatial bonds.

This residence marks the genesis of my life’s journey, a place where familial ties were strengthened through countless gatherings and various celebratory functions. A distinctive feature of this apartment, now concealed, is the light well, once a source of morning serenity with the harmonious chirping of pigeons and birds. This auditory symphony not only instilled a tolerance for the occasionally irksome avian interruptions but also kindled a yearning for the tranquility of undisturbed slumber.

The balcony, adorned with an intricately designed railing in the traditional Indian style, emerged as a brilliant space within the apartment. Overlooking an expanse of dense, lush greenery, this outdoor retreat became a cherished haven. The balcony, seamlessly connected to the living room, evolved into my preferred spot to relish the rhythmic dance of rain, and immerse myself in the quintessential Indian weather experience. Despite the aging facade of this apartment and its less-than-perfect maintenance, its corridors echo with intense memories.

A recent gathering with my cousins this past summer added a fresh layer of nostalgia to this cherished space. The apartment became a lively backdrop for rekindling familial connections, hosting spirited games and laughter. In the midst of this aging abode, the echoes of joy and shared moments reverberate, transforming it into a timeless haven that encapsulates the essence of my formative years.

Equally pivotal in the canvas of my childhood is the house of my maternal grandparents, nestled in a secluded alley, animated by vendors selling flour and other food goods, was a portal into a world where familial ties and business coexisted. This dwelling was not just a physical space but an entryway to myriad memories, intricately woven with the legacy of my grandfather’s steel and cement business. My grandfather’s steel enterprise, later entrusted to my uncles, transformed this space into a realm of fascination for a young mind. The vivid memories of colossal rebars and steel meshes served as a magnetic pull, drawing me into the intricate narratives of industry and family legacy.

Upon entering, the gateway to the house unfolded through my grandfather’s business, a testament to his dedication and the family’s industrious spirit. The journey began with ascending steep stairs at the side of the building, leading into a corridor that unveiled the heart of the home—the living room adorned with a welcoming divan. This space etched permanent memories, where family stories unfolded against the backdrop of the colorful walls. Dancing and playing games with my family in this living room created a tapestry of shared moments, a backdrop to the vibrant chapters of familial camaraderie. The divan, where my grandmother sat in proximity to the kitchen, held a special place in my heart, symbolizing closeness to a beloved figure.

Despite tales of never having fallen from those entryway stairs, a lingering memory suggested otherwise, this was mentioned in the book where a woman had a false memory of exploring an attic, this might be one of the false memories for me.

The house’s architectural dance of light and shadow, orchestrated by an open-air light well, became a poetic expression that left an indelible mark on my consciousness. This play of illumination was a precursor to my lifelong fascination with the mysterious allure of shadows—a fascination planted in the fertile soil of childhood experiences. This open-air light well was also the place where my grandmother showed me the newspaper in 2009, where she asked me to build a building taller than the Burj Khalifa for her, at the time I agreed because I was really fascinated with the building, however, this request laid the stones of my wanting to learn architecture.

This house, like the paternal grandparents’ apartment, became a treasure trove of hidden spots—a testament to childhood curiosity and the allure of secrecy. A small storage room in the bedroom concealed a gleaming gun, a source of fascination that, despite family reservations, added an element of excitement to my secret adventures.

The allure of hidden spaces extended beyond the confines of the house itself. Climbing a few inches of steps on the opposite side of the handrail to the third floor unveiled a recess in the ceiling—an obscure sanctuary in the realm of darkness and dinginess, this place was a lot more dangerous as there were wires that connected the entire building to the grid. As the eldest sibling, I reveled in showcasing this secret space, a testament to the pride derived from unique privileges, but also prevented anyone else from going up there as I knew the consequences could be severe.

Exploration reached its zenith in the basement’s basement of the neighbor’s lumber business—an organized labyrinth of stairs, darkness, and storage. The structured chaos of this subterranean realm became a haven, encapsulating the essence of childhood adventure and fascination.

Dubai, a city of contrasts, became the backdrop for my adolescent years. The rhythm of our relocation within the same building brought with it a kaleidoscope of feelings, each apartment bearing a distinct emotional arrangement. Despite the changes in internal design, the location itself became a grounding force—a novel concept in my ever-changing (in terms of location) upbringing. Each apartment either getting smaller, facing the exterior into the city beyond me or facing the swimming pool inside, which gave it a sense of community.

Transitioning to Chicago as an international college student marked a significant chapter in my spatial narrative. The gloomy skies of Chicago, a departure from the harsh sun of Dubai, acted as a bridge connecting me to the weather patterns of my Indian roots. This atmospheric shift fostered a sense of familiarity, grounding me in a nuanced blend of the past and the present.

The current phase of my life unfolds within the confines of the Illinois Institute of Technology campus. Sharing a dorm with a close friend introduced a new layer to my environmental autobiography. The open kitchen, reminiscent of familial interactions in childhood apartments, and the blank walls, now adorned with fairy lights, draw subtle parallels with the homes of my formative years.

As an architecture student, the influence of my childhood spaces extends beyond mere nostalgia. It permeates my design philosophy, creating an intricate tapestry that intertwines functionality, adaptability, and a nuanced understanding of light and shadow. The love for dark, mellow environments, inspired by the shadowy corners of my youth, finds expression in my architectural choices.

The preference for wood over stone tables, rooted in sentimental attachment to the dining table that traversed continents, has transcended the realm of furniture. It has become a guiding principle in my architectural design—a symbol of adaptability and resilience. The sleek, movable design of the table from Kolkata has left an indelible mark on my aesthetic preferences, favoring flexibility over static aesthetics.

A recurring theme in my spatial journey is the habit of studying in the living room—a practice born out of necessity in my Kolkata years where I did not have my own personal study table. This habit, once a mere response to circumstances, has evolved into a preference for public spaces while working. The living room, a nexus of connection and productivity, has become a symbol of change and how necessities intermingle with your past habits and present choices.

The fondness for public spaces while working can be traced back to the environment where tutors once sat. This preference is not merely functional; it reflects the deep-seated need for connection and productivity. The living room, with its echoes of familial activities and study sessions, embodies the interdependence between spatial habits and emotional well-being.

Delving into the interiors of my current residence reveals a nuanced preference for wood. The tactile memories of a table that moved from Kolkata to Dubai have shaped not only my personal preferences but also my design aesthetic. The lightweight, sleek design of the wooden table, in contrast to the bulkier stone table in Dubai, has become a guiding principle in my architectural choices.

The ability to customize my current space with fairy lights, echoing a childhood desire for personalization, speaks to the importance of continuity and a sense of home. The play of light, reminiscent of the diverse atmospheres in my childhood homes, becomes a tool for creating an environment that transcends mere functionality.

In unraveling the tapestry of my environmental autobiography, I find a rich narrative woven from diverse homes, each contributing a unique hue to my sense of self, aesthetic preferences, and professional aspirations. Claire Cooper Marcus’ insights and our class discussions have provided a valuable lens for understanding the profound connection between past and present environments.

From the continuous movement in my childhood to the collegiate experiences in Chicago, my spatial journey reflects the intricate dance between external environments and internal perceptions. The impact of childhood spaces, marked by familial connections, hidden nooks, and a fascination for shadows, extends beyond mere nostalgia. It shapes my architectural philosophy, influencing design choices that prioritize adaptability, personalization, and a nuanced understanding of the interplay between light and shadow. Funnily enough, the continuous movement might have been engrained in myself, despite living on campus for about 3 years now, I have moved my dorm room each year, I think the constant need for change is important for me.

The living room, once a site of necessity, has evolved into a symbol of connection and productivity, echoing the broader theme of the interdependence between spatial habits and emotional well-being. The preference for public spaces while working becomes a lens through which to explore the intricate dance between past habits and present choices.

As I continue to navigate through the ever-evolving chapters of my spatial journey, the echoes of childhood homes, the nostalgia for Kolkata’s wooden table, and the habit of studying in the living room accompany me. The spatial autobiography is an ongoing narrative, a reflection of the multifaceted interplay between self and space, architecture, and emotion.

Note: I have used the same ideas from Clare Cooper Marcus’ book to come across these realizations. I have been thoroughly surprised by how much I remember as well as how these houses have brought me to be the person I am. Also, with the ideas of how language and now the house changing a person, I do wonder if it is actually possible to tell how a person might turn out based on their experiences.