Shades of Theory : Only By Means of Theory 

This passage is from “Theory and Elements of Architecture” by Atkinson, Robert and Bagenal, Hope. This text is exactly 100 years old to this year : published  in 1926 

My note on this text : 

I just love the precision and claim of this text: “Only by means of Theory” — that feels like an excellent point of departure for this series. I deeply align with its emphasis on “how apply it?” and how theory “provides the link between the necessary knowledge and the activity of design.” It establishes theory as something practical rather than rhetorical — not in opposition to experience, but as a sequence and structuring of it. “First act of simplification in the mind” suggests a clarification of thought, while “planning of planning” introduces a crucial meta-level: thinking about thinking. “Deductions from experience” and the sense of thought being “compounded of his borrowings from others plus his native intelligence” strongly reinforce my premise: theory + experience, not theory versus experience.

This paragraph is drawn from the brilliant opening chapter of the book. What follows are chapters focused on the elements of architecture — walls, roofs, materials, and so on — but the clarity of this initial framing, at architecture’s threshold of modernism, is remarkable. The book’s grounding of theory before moving into architectural elements reveals an intellectual precision that feels both rigorous and very relevant 100 years later 

The book is accesible on this link to read: https://archive.org/details/theoryelementsof00atki/mode/2up

KVDF: Workshop Insights

About the workshop 

This post takes a peek into the KVDF Workshop I participated in earlier this year. The workshop was spread over three days (Jan 30 – Feb 01, 2026). Kurula Varkey Design Forum is one of the key annual academic events in the country, revolving around shortlisted final year thesis projects from various schools. An event completely organized by the students at CEPT, which has been a consistent and distinguished platform since its inception. It is a vantage point to the finest thesis in the country. The previous formats had thematic discussions around curated categories of thesis projects . The discussions revolved around particular projects and spiraled from there to many delightful de tours attended by various mentors over the years.  I had attended these forums between 2008 and 2010 at CEPT as a student. The ‘basement’ at CEPT would be buzzing with intellectual arguments for those 3 days. This is the 25th year since its inception. 

KVDF, marking its 25th anniversary, embarked on an innovative format for its event. This year’s event was centered around workshops, featuring selected thesis students and CEPT students. Each group consisted of four thesis students whose work had been selected (and those who also have graduated since), along with three CEPT students from various years. They had to work together to create a project ( the outcome was open-ended; anything from a drawing to a video or a collage).

This is the list of participants from my group : Keerat Kaur Gill (SEA,Mumbai), Harshitha N Kumar ( SPA, Vijayawada ), Ria Desai (LS Raheja, Mumbai), Sachith Vithange (University of Moratuwa, Sri Lanka),  and CEPT Students – Kunal Barve, Priyanshi Shah, Nikhil Joshi

The other mentors were an impressive line of heavy hitters like Smit Vyas, Kunjan Garg, Ujjwal Dawar, and Saurabh Malpani. Before the workshop started and when the list was announced, I was intimidated by this list and the past legacy of the forum. It almost took me the first day of the workshop to settle. The new format and the premise of the workshop also challenged me. It was a nice opportunity to step from the everyday classes at Mysore and to experiment a bit with students whom I had not met before. The format was also an experiment, where I got to test some of my pedagogical ideas of drawing, tracing, and collaboration in creative work.

Note for the theme of the workshop – ( I wrote this before I went to the workshop as the premise to operate.) 

The workshop will be anchored in the notion of tracingboth as a medium and as an act of thinking. 

Building on this premise, the workshop will begin with the creation of a large base drawing (digital collage print to save time), conceived as a stitched collage of plans. This composite drawing will act as a ground. Over this, multiple layers of tracing will be developed—varying in scale, theme, and intent—using overlays to incrementally build meaning. The emphasis will be on layering, deviation, refinement, and the productive tension between continuity and departure. The workshop will be drawing-intensive, supported by a small number of short interactions to frame and reflect on the process. This is more on the method yet, finding a way to anchor with the theme of ‘time‘.

Process:

As this was an open-ended workshop, the mentors were given a theme note two weeks earlier, while the students’ work was shared only two days prior to the workshop.One of the starting points for me was the question: how can four students—deeply embedded in their thesis work, yet now carrying some distance after graduation—engage with the workshop together? Alongside them were three CEPT students from the third and fifth year. I was keen to explore collaboration within this mix. The students came from varied schools and backgrounds, with very different methods of enquiry. Coincidentally, all the theses in this group were related to adaptive reuse. At a personal level, I have been revisiting tracing as a way to slow down—an embodied mode of thinking and exploration. This became the premise I set for the workshop. The concept note on Tracing from Jessica Helfand and Niall McLaughlin explorations on the same theme (shared below) are key anchors and precedents for this workshop. 

Act of drawing:

On Day 1, the four theses were collapsed into a single digital drawing and printed as a 6’×3’ sheet on cartridge paper. We spent time discussing the idea of collage—assigning each thesis a colour, negotiating scale, and determining the size so that all seven participants could sit around intimately around the drawing and work on it simultaneously.

Day 2 was devoted entirely to tracing. Each student worked on an A3 tracing sheet. A session of tracing lasted about 40 minutes, followed by an equally long break. In each session, students traced using a single colour. For the next session, they shifted positions and began again. After every round, we paused to discuss what each layer would engage with—colour, pattern, method, or emphasis. Over five such layers, the drawing began to transform. And the participants too. The original base both dissolved and re-emerged, gradually becoming a composite where individual authorship receded into the larger act of making.

[ Sachith, a team member, upon reading this blog, shared a much sharper perspective on how the 5 layers and stages of drawing advanced. His note :

“The layers had different approaches. The first layer was about drawing intuitively on others’ drawings, though by the end some of us felt we needed some kind of guidance. So for the second layer, we worked with the term ‘movement.’ We felt the first layer was better at collapsing the drawing, but we still needed some motive through which we could work together. In the third layer, we introduced a physical constraint: drawing a continuous line over the drawing, while still keeping the freedom to start and end at any point we liked. This layer was transformative. We felt that all of us really started to collaborate, and the base drawing truly collapsed and became ‘one.’

The fourth layer was about adding shapes and hatches. After that, we felt we had to add another layer similar to the third, so we ended the tracing process with the fifth layer—not as a point of end, but as a base to begin another process” ] Note added to original post on May 3, 2026

On Day 3, the students independently presented the outcome as a video with a voiceover, reflecting on both the process and their learnings.

Through this process, four distinct theses became one shared drawing. The slow act of tracing created space—for conversation, for digression, for ease. Much of the learning happened within this act of drawing itself.

Below are the key slides from the final presentation I gave, which covered the intent, method and precedents for this approach. Also some photos from the event

This is the final video presentation from the team, which they made as the outcome of the 3 day workshop – which capture the slow cooked process of this workshop.

Notes:

A note of thanks to Shreyas Baindur and Madhuri Rao for all the constructive feedback at the initial idea stage.
All photos and videos are credited to the KVDF organizing team, participants in my team, Shubhanshi, myself and other members of the event.

Keeping a Notebook : Simon Unwin

A spread from Simon Unwin’s notebook on “Entrances”

For my second semester here, I am testing notebooks as the primary recorder of the semester’s learning. I am not sure if this is a teachable habit. I came to keeping a notebook rather late. It was at CEPT that I first noticed everyone carrying one, almost as an extension of themselves. It felt like a fertile ground—to note ideas, to hold fragments, to plant seeds for later. A recent sketch by Nick Sousanis (bottom of the this blog post) , on how AI is affecting learning, brought this back to me. In a time when so much is quick, searchable, and already available, there is value in recording ideas by hand, in one’s own way. There is nothing radical about it. Perhaps that is exactly why it feels more important now. I have hesitantly brought this into the lesson plan for the Theory course I teach. I have tried it before and failed, as it takes constant followup and editing. I may be failing at it again. But I still think it matters. I have been introducing the notebook, or the journal, as a base for collecting ideas and finding patterns. It is beginning to seem like a necessary place to hold the rawness of analog teaching—its slowness, its immediacy, and its small surprises.

A page from Lesson Plan

This is a note I shared with students:

In a time when so much is quick, searchable, and already available, there is value in recording ideas by hand, in one’s own way. There is nothing radical about it. Perhaps that is exactly why it feels more important now. Simon Unwin’s books have been a steady source of hope in this regard. Analyzing Architecture and 25 Buildings Every Architect Should Know come out of reading, and those readings are captured in notebooks—a collection of ideas, thoughts, and observations. It is a simple act, but a powerful one. I also came across two videos on keeping a notebook, and they were quietly encouraging. There was a glimpse into one of his sketchbooks, which he generously shared. It felt like a rare peek into the working mind of an author.

Here are very resourceful links to the videos and notebooks he has generously shared
Video 1 : https://youtu.be/56FoldUYFk0
Video 2 : https://youtu.be/ziHwroH0VXM

And the link to access his note books. http://simonunwin.com/notebooks/entrance.pdf?v=2
More on his website : http://simonunwin.com
The screen shots in this post are extracts from the notebook named ‘Entrance’

There is that old saying, often attributed to Chinese wisdom: “The faintest ink is better than the strongest memory.”

That line stays with me.

The idea behind the notebook assignment is to build a habit along those lines: to write, to observe, to collect, and to return.

Nick Sousanis diagram on learning and AI (link)

Two Books : At the start of Thesis

At WCFA, we are entering a new cycle of thesis. As part of this moment, the library marked the beginning by allowing students to borrow three books instead of the usual two—a small but meaningful additional privilege, I feel. I know this is a very optimistic position to take. Snehal Shah, my teacher at CEPT and one of the key figures behind the Theory of Design program, used to constantly remind us that if we didn’t redeem all the seven books we were allowed to borrow as Master’s students, it was almost a crime. That advice has stayed with me, and I keep passing it on to my students. Even though I am usually softly pessimistic about how much students actually pick up and read, something changes when they enter the thesis phase. Their search seems more serious. A book suggestion often turns into an actual borrowing. And it is heartening to see the early phase of thesis research and enquiry being intertwined with books. I remain deeply grateful to Words and Buildings by Adrian Forty (perhaps a longer post on this someday), which became the backbone of my own thesis at CEPT.

Last week, I recommended two books to my students.


Book One: Remarks on 21 Works by Rafael Moneo

The first book was recommended to me by my teacher, and I, in turn, have inherited it through years of reading and teaching. Bijoy often refers to Moneo and his writings, and this lineage of influence continues. This is a sharp book. One of the key things thesis students can take away from it is the idea that each project is embedded with a core architectural question, and each essay is an attempt to answer that question. The book is a unique combination of Moneo himself—a rare mixture of prolific architect, incisive teacher, and elegant writer—writing about his own projects. It carries both the familiarity of the designer and the sharp objectivity of a theorist. Chapter 13 is dedicated to the Kursaal Concert Hall and Convention Centre. The chapter opens with a question:

When singular geographic conditions demand an intuitive architectural response.

The first paragraph of the chapter, where Moneo speaks about the site, goes like this:

“Architecture comes into being and is nurtured in a given place, and the attributes of that place, its deepest condition, become intimately entwined with it. A work of architecture cannot be built just anywhere. It is crucial for the architect to discern those attributes of the site that should be maintained and emphasized, and those that should disappear in the new reality that emerges through the construction process. As a counterpoint, it is important to note that architecture discovers the site, reveals it and makes it evident. The site is where the specific object—the building—acquires its identity and finds its dimension, its unique, unrepeatable condition. The site is also where the specificity of the building becomes visible and can be understood as its most valuable asset.”

Book Two: Why Architecture Matters by Paul Goldberger

The second book is by Paul Goldberger—an incisive book that offers a certain distance while asking what architecture is about and what it means. The book is addressed to a general, non-architect audience, and that distance is precisely what makes it useful. Here is a quote from the chapter “Buildings and Time”, on the comfort of familiarity:

“Because we live with buildings, and see them all the time, our relationship to them is at once more intimate and more distant than our relationship to music or painting or literature or film, things that we experience episodically but intensely. When you are watching a film, your world consists almost entirely of what you see on the screen; when you are in a building, only occasionally do other perceptions and other thoughts disappear from your mind. I spoke in chapter 2 about the extent to which architecture, even good architecture, can encourage complacency; because we see it every day, as a backdrop to our lives, it is easy to stop seeing it with fresh eyes, however closely we interact with it. The complacency that time induces has a purpose: it lets us tolerate things that would be intolerable if we continued to feel them intensely. Thus you numb yourself to that awful shopping mall on the way to work, or you no longer grit your teeth when you see the ugly new storefront that replaced the beloved old soda fountain on Main Street. But such tolerance comes at a price—there is a high tariff to the comfort of familiarity, for it encourages us to stop seeing.”


For students standing at the threshold of thesis, these books offer two complementary positions: one from within architectural practice, grappling with site, form, and intention; the other from a reflective distance, reminding us how easily architecture fades into the background of everyday life. Both, in their own ways, are invitations to look again—and to look carefully.