Why are the buildings and ships so ridiculously enormous in both Denis Villeneuve’s and David Lynch’s film adaptations of Dune? Likewise the covers of most early editions of Dune feature either monumental sandworms or archiecture or environments? Scale separates Dune from many other science fiction stories. Star Wars collapses down to a family drama, Battlestar Galacrtica focues on a rag tag group of survivors and the AI who they created, and Star Trek takes its stories from bit-sized moral questions dramatized as weekly visits to strange new worlds. Dune, however, is driven by lore that plays out over thousands of years, across the wide expanse of the whole universe. Every line in every scene could change the course of a universal empire. The goals that drive character’s actions go back for 90 generations. The scale of the buildings, ships, and landscapes show us the immensity of story’s canvas. Likewise, the wonderful work of Asim Waqif forces an immensity of scale that cannot be denied. It reconfigures pieces of bamboo as a structure unto itself, intimating the ecological scale of the nature through unnatural arrangements. Here’s more from COLOSSAL:
Waqif draws on his studies in architecture and experience in film and TV art direction, considering location, material, and the experience of moving around or through the work. Building each installation involves complex “manual processes that are deliberately painstaking and laborious, while the products themselves are often temporary and sometimes even designed to decay,” he says.
Research in ecology and anthropology inform much of Waqif’s approach, especially his interest in vernacular systems of ecological management. Elaborate pieces like “লয় [Loy]” are made possible through a collaborative effort, employing a team of skilled bamboo and cane craftspeople to create labyrinth-like tunnels and detailed surfaces. Natural entryways invite visitors to immerse themselves in the work, experiencing a range of audio effects as they wander through different areas.
