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There's a giant vagina in Faculty of Architecture. Do I have your attention now? To be honest, it's probably not the only one; but this one tends to grab people's attention and hold it.

The fact that it‘s white does little to disguise the overtly-erotic overtones of this blow-up blob. (We could wander here into the elaborately explored territory of inflatable sex toys, but let's keep this clean). So: what are we supposed to do with this anatomically-correct, throbbing globule? Apparently, we are supposed to climb inside it. Not so surprising, when you think about it. The 'doors' into this white womb are tight, ahem, 'flaps' (sorry, there's really no other appropriate word for them) which, when you finally squeeze through them, lead into a semi-spherical space that is kept inflated by a constantly blowing air pump. Inside, you find - gasp! - slides of people putting the thing together projected on the interior walls by old-fashioned slide projectors. Click click. Are you kidding me?We are supposed to climb all the way inside an over-sized uterus — giggling and blushing like school kids (or else maintaining an outside decorum that probably reveals a lot more sexual-repression than giggling does) — just to watch low-quality images of Maarten, Dražen, Magnus and Derk taking naps on the deflated plastic skin? They should at least be giving a strip show or something, right? I mean this is verging on blasphemous. Next thing you know all the sexed-up architecture students will be rioting. Who wants a nap when you can have an orgy?The other problem with this, however, is a bit more serious. In spite of the deliciousness of saying 'fuck the system' (literally?) by inflating a giant vagina-room in the Blokkenhall, no one has even considered the appropriateness or inappropriateness of introducing this lovely lady to a similarly-sized male friend. Where's the giant boy-toy? The world is dying to know. Perhaps what's interesting to note (if you're inclined to spy on the thing like I do — covertly sipping foul coffee and counting visitors) is that women seem to feel much more confident yanking back the flaps and thrusting themselves into the space than their male cohorts.The thing is actually designed to reference some sort of interplay between theater and architecture. There are also diagrams of a pregnant woman, and it seems that the umbilical cord has been translated into the weighted tube that anchors the thing to the floor. What's more than likely, although certainly not printed up on one of those pretty white info-sheets suspended from the ceiling, is that there's a bit of symbolism here that we may or may not want to figure out. So just what is the story behind this pulsating globule? Is it a reference to the copious amounts of sexual tension sparking and crackling through the hallways of Bouwkunde? (I can feel it, can't you? Spring is in the air, baby!) Is it perhaps a suggestion of the femininity and intuition required of all so-called designers? Or is it possible, even, that ''Liefde'', as the thing is named, is actually a subtle and sweet architectural hmage to Courbet's 'The Origin of The World'?Yes. Possible. Of course it's possible. But the images of the designers steadfastly toiling away at their sewing machines in order to complete this gentle folly seem to imply that the overwhelming associative imagery is a bit of an afterthought.At the time this was written, the designers themselves couldn't be tracked down for comment, but perhaps it's more fun to imagine the possible motives anyway. Whether they are aware of it or not, these men are saying a lot with their creation, and I'm not talking about the written explanations (which are only in Dutch - so a lot is left open to interpretation for those foreign students stumped by words like 'liefde' in general. I looked it up: it means 'love' in English. The space inside is silent, and white, and you immediately forget the outside world. The roundness of the space feels private, protected, even secret. It's an egg, it's a mother, it's a commentary on women in architecture.... Four boys, charged with designing a space that references theater, decide to thread together a giant womb. From a woman's point of view, it's a beautiful thing. It’s enough to put a smile on your face for days."Dorthy Parker, MSc Architecture, is from the United States. Her next column will be published in Delta 14. She can be emailed at: onbezorgd@gmail.com.

There‘s a giant vagina in Faculty of Architecture. Do I have your attention now? To be honest, it's probably not the only one; but this one tends to grab people's attention and hold it. The fact that it's white does little to disguise the overtly-erotic overtones of this blow-up blob. (We could wander here into the elaborately explored territory of inflatable sex toys, but let's keep this clean). So: what are we supposed to do with this anatomically-correct, throbbing globule? Apparently, we are supposed to climb inside it. Not so surprising, when you think about it. The 'doors' into this white womb are tight, ahem, 'flaps' (sorry, there's really no other appropriate word for them) which, when you finally squeeze through them, lead into a semi-spherical space that is kept inflated by a constantly blowing air pump. Inside, you find - gasp! - slides of people putting the thing together projected on the interior walls by old-fashioned slide projectors. Click click. Are you kidding me?We are supposed to climb all the way inside an over-sized uterus — giggling and blushing like school kids (or else maintaining an outside decorum that probably reveals a lot more sexual-repression than giggling does) — just to watch low-quality images of Maarten, Dražen, Magnus and Derk taking naps on the deflated plastic skin? They should at least be giving a strip show or something, right? I mean this is verging on blasphemous. Next thing you know all the sexed-up architecture students will be rioting. Who wants a nap when you can have an orgy?The other problem with this, however, is a bit more serious. In spite of the deliciousness of saying 'fuck the system' (literally?) by inflating a giant vagina-room in the Blokkenhall, no one has even considered the appropriateness or inappropriateness of introducing this lovely lady to a similarly-sized male friend. Where's the giant boy-toy? The world is dying to know. Perhaps what's interesting to note (if you're inclined to spy on the thing like I do — covertly sipping foul coffee and counting visitors) is that women seem to feel much more confident yanking back the flaps and thrusting themselves into the space than their male cohorts.The thing is actually designed to reference some sort of interplay between theater and architecture. There are also diagrams of a pregnant woman, and it seems that the umbilical cord has been translated into the weighted tube that anchors the thing to the floor. What's more than likely, although certainly not printed up on one of those pretty white info-sheets suspended from the ceiling, is that there's a bit of symbolism here that we may or may not want to figure out. So just what is the story behind this pulsating globule? Is it a reference to the copious amounts of sexual tension sparking and crackling through the hallways of Bouwkunde? (I can feel it, can't you? Spring is in the air, baby!) Is it perhaps a suggestion of the femininity and intuition required of all so-called designers? Or is it possible, even, that ''Liefde'', as the thing is named, is actually a subtle and sweet architectural hmage to Courbet's 'The Origin of The World'?Yes. Possible. Of course it's possible. But the images of the designers steadfastly toiling away at their sewing machines in order to complete this gentle folly seem to imply that the overwhelming associative imagery is a bit of an afterthought.At the time this was written, the designers themselves couldn't be tracked down for comment, but perhaps it's more fun to imagine the possible motives anyway. Whether they are aware of it or not, these men are saying a lot with their creation, and I'm not talking about the written explanations (which are only in Dutch - so a lot is left open to interpretation for those foreign students stumped by words like 'liefde' in general. I looked it up: it means 'love' in English. The space inside is silent, and white, and you immediately forget the outside world. The roundness of the space feels private, protected, even secret. It's an egg, it's a mother, it's a commentary on women in architecture.... Four boys, charged with designing a space that references theater, decide to thread together a giant womb. From a woman's point of view, it's a beautiful thing. It’s enough to put a smile on your face for days."Dorthy Parker, MSc Architecture, is from the United States. Her next column will be published in Delta 14. She can be emailed at: onbezorgd@gmail.com.

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