Flanken II

A photography studio occupies the historic coach house. Works of art are photographed here, many of the images eventually finding their way into art books. That requires quite a lot, and the space itself is not exactly doing everything it could to help. On the one hand, we need greater control over the climate, the light and the experience of the space. On the other, there is an abundance of stuff: photographic equipment, but also, you guessed it, countless art books, none of which has a worthy place. A job for a super-piece of furniture, the kind of furniture that can secretly become architecture.

The existing space is articulated by several changes in level, fault lines, with something different happening on each plateau. The lowest is a logistical loading and unloading zone. The middle level is the shooting space. The uppermost is an office for computer work. A piece of furniture climbs up from these fault lines, rising almost two storeys high. A fertile mountainside. Open and closed storage alternate, switching from one side to the other. Columns like timber I-beams, with shelves and glass wedged between them. A richly textured landscape that would delight any climber. El Capitan. Yet no climbing is required. A red steel staircase sweeps upwards like a cable car, connecting the different levels. The piece of furniture is an insulated wall, cabinet and balustrade all at once. Beyond the flanks, every surface is renewed; the fields of floors, ceilings and walls are tamed. They become higher-performing, warmer and more even. The light is diffuse and welcoming. The tripod is ready. Vinyl slips beneath the needle. A book about the Latemse lumniosten lies open on the table. The smell of coffee hangs in the air. Coffee and oil paint.