Emma
van Noort

The blindfolded horse puts its gaze towards the endless queuing apartment buildings dressed in grey suits. He lives between the city and the factory building.

One size fits all they say, but this does not apply to the comfortably fitted grey suits who build their empires as we covered our eyes. Stuck in Christine’s map of efficiency. The metabolism of the house is now ruled by Neufert’s law. 

The priest was not afraid to look the grey uniforms in the eye. But they took him for a fool putting question marks to their square lives. Preaching circular shapes when people in white clothes turned to numbers. Together with the draftsman and the music they put the priest away. Although their movement was limited, they found freedom in their thoughts and fantasized a way out of the blocks.

They called the draftsman Piet. He moulded modular kitchen cabinets of pale blue green shades. Forever stuck behind his drawing board in that little corner room he renegotiated Christine’s rules.

Christine followed the housewife every step she took, short and efficient. She herself did not fit the framework and neither did the architect, the lover and the wife. They however played by the rules of Form Follows Function in the world of Fluffy Functionalism and RAL9010. The slippery slope of One size fits all in the house as a machine for living.

But not for her, the wife.

She had to make the most of it. She had to adjust herself to the reference man in a standardized world of straight forward thinking and primary colours.  Although they put her on a pedestal she never came first.

So,

she danced Christine’s choreography in her fern green dress as she moved through the yellow lit concrete grid. The house as a machine on repeat
repeat
repeat
.