P A N G A E A

CREATIVE DIRECTORS

Donald ChungJulia Salotti

THE PANGAEA TEAM

Donald ChungRebecca GravilCharlotte HancockCeylan KioufiGenevieve de Rohan Willner Julia Salotti

SPECIAL THANKS

The residents of Ashmole Estate

a PRESS & BLEED projectCo-ordinated by Ben Branagan, Kieron Dennis,and Ray O’Meara for the BA Graphic Design Course at Chelsea College of Art & Design.

PANGAEA

There is a theory that Earth was once a supercontinent named Pangaea before it separated to form the world we live in today. Ashmole Estate, a microcosm, is an interpretation of this.

Pangaea explores concepts of territories and multiculturalism. These 56 houses, identical from the outside, each have a unique interior with a strong sense of personal identity.

INTRODUCTION

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The hallway behind her was empty apart from a single picture on the wall of what may be a vase of flowers. There was a dark brown carpet and a pile of unopened mail on the floor.

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The hallway was bright like a dentist’s office. A large mirror took up most of the wall space. The floor comprised of black and white checkers. There was a strong smell of fresh paint. On a small white half moon table was a vase filled with fresh lilies, there were flowers in every room of the house. The mock granite counter tops in the kitchen were spotless. The floor made noises as her shoes stuck to the lino. In the living room on a doily covered chest of drawers was a single ornament; a mouse made of glass with red glit-tery eyes. The large greyhound looked awkward padding around white leather sofas that he wasn’t allowed to sit on.

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Precious care was given to the house, it smelt like fresh washing and home cooking. The sound of Radio 4 drifted out of the kitchen. His collection of crime novels were stacked in a bookcase topped with an array of scented candles. The white sofas had handmade blan-kets folded over the arms. On the coffee table was a pair of glasses, an open book and the remote controls neatly positioned equal dis-tance apart. The kitchen was dated, but clean and welcoming with pastel blue walls. The red Formica table framed the freshly picked yellow daisies next to a delicate glass ashtray.

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He answered the door wearing a striped, towel-ling dressing gown. His eyes, although a strik-ing green, seemed lifeless. The hallway was crammed with disused furniture and boxes, the little carpet that was visible looked stained from repeated use. The space seemed chaotic; noth-ing had a sense of place.

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Compared to the impressive rug with a larger- than-life sized tiger printed on it, the lion painting diminished into the back wall. Those were the only decorations. The house had a temporary feel, as if all of their possessions could have fitted in the back of a car. The paint was peeling off the walls in numerous places and the cream carpet was threadbare. The house felt cold and smelt like stale tobacco. The kitchen was minimal and dated, the old lino curled up in the corners of the room, displaying a dusty brown floor underneath. The pots on the hob were the sort of beaten up tin ones used for camping.

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On the wall behind the woman was a cork board, covered with ephemera and takeaway menus. A shoe rack underneath had several pairs of brown buckled court shoes, all identical. She chatted away to what sounded like a business call. Before a single question was asked, she said “don’t bother”.

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An array of stainless steel kitchen utensils were poking out through the window blinds. The sound of a football match came from within the house,The door opened to a man standing on a cream carpet and behind him, the generic red rose art print makes an appearance.

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The woman had only just moved in, it was evident from the strong scent of paint stripper. A dust sheet was fixed into place with masking tape every few inches, protecting the carpet floor, There was a pile of folded packing boxes outside the door ready to be disposed of.

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The solid oak floor extended across the entire house, with no obstruction from the walls, which have been knocked down completely. The living room was totally empty apart from an old fashioned bicycle with a basket, and stacks of packing boxes leaning against the wall, almost touching the ceiling.

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A white paper lantern hung from the ceiling, serving as a temporary lamp shade. The man stood on an expensive looking laminated floor, behind him was a dark blue carpet, and a single jacket looking lonely on the enormous coat rack. The white walls appeared newly painted.

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Peeking through the yellowing front door curtains revealed a cluttered hallway. Two fuzzy shadows kept jumping and barking from the inside.

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She answered the door, revealing a ornate Persian rug under her feat. Three Chinese figurines of women wearing bonnets sat on a mahogany table. The house had a distinct smell of polished wood.

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It seemed white, tiled, bare and sterile.

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Over twenty pairs of flip flops overfilled the shoe rack, which was misaligned to the lines of the large beige tiles.

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His garden, visible from the neighbour’s window, was said to be overgrown with a corner dedi-cated to piles of bin bags. He often watches American Pro Wrestling on full volume with the windows open.

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The hallway was carpeted and entirely vacant apart from an Andy Warhol print of Marilyn Monroe. The atmosphere in the house felt damp, movement could be heard behind every closed door. The kitchen was practically derelict, a wooden chair set upside down atop an equally ragged table. All the utensils were in their corresponding shelves, just where they belong. A maroon curtain attempted to conceal the boiler cupboard.

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Camouflaged within the blue floor tiles, tucked under the side table was a bed for a Tartan dog, covered in its occupant’s wiry white hair.

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The bottom floor was open plan with wooden laminated floors and spot lighting, almost like a display house. Although tidy, the area needed a deep clean, made more obvious by the lack of decor. Piles of dust had been swept into the corners of the room, waiting to be cleared away. The television shelf spanned across the en-tire wall, stacked with DVD’s, empty takeaway boxes and used dishes. There was a faint smell of damp towels, most likely from football practice.

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Arranged on a low table beneath the stairs were a collection of framed pictures of their children alongside stuffed toys and potpourri. The living room had dark purple walls, the curtains were pulled shut, leaving a beam of sunlight projecting onto a set of black recliners and a flat screen television. Even with a prop gun from a John Wayne movie hanging above the TV, the walls were still cold and lifeless. The kitchen had a definite red and white theme, it was arranged practically and smelt of disinfectant. On the fridge was a Golliwog magnet holding up a take-away menu.

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The house was so empty, his footsteps echoed as he walked away. Through the front window the kitchen looked basic with four chairs arranged neatly around a pine table. Nothing more.

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Behind her was a reprint of the Last Supper image, hanging above a table where family photos and a tiny crystal swan reside. The carpet looked like it came out of a pub, especially when complimented by a stain glassed lamp shade suspended from the ceiling.

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The hallway was a shade of green so bold, it could only be sedated by the bright yellow stair-case. Pictures of temples clustered the wall and Indian gods were carefully arranged in gilded wooden frames. His love for travelling was immediately apparent. Every piece of decoration tells a story of one of the many countries he had been to. The garden was almost utopic, with an ever-flowing fountain at the back, its movement reflected on the mosaic centre piece where the gold fish reside.

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The hall was overtaken by a giant electric piano; a stack of unopened board games sat on top. On the wall above at an unintentional angle was a poster of a sunset. The kitchen was run down, cabinet doors had fallen off but haven’t been replaced. Squares of missing lino accidentally created a checker board effect. There was no table, just a sliding door to the living room that had become stuck over time. In the living room were maroon carpets and scarlet leather sofas. There was a large mahogany cabinet, behind murky glass doors sat rows of objects on display; framed pictures of grandchildren, ceramic ani-mal figurines and crucifixes.

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There was a presence of coffee and cigarettes. The nondescript grey carpet ran throughout the kitchen and living room, various domestic humour magnets held up shopping lists on the fridge. The living room ceiling looked like dripping icing, the peaks cast menacing shadows on the wall adjacent. Placed in the centre of the sofa was a stuffed toy bull dog wearing a Union Jack tee shirt and driving goggles. On the mantle piece sat a bouquet of luminously coloured fake flowers.

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In the living room was a king-sized bed, several hand-stitched pillows rested against the head board. On her bed side table was a picture of a smiling boy wearing a Manchester United football shirt. Her cat lay curled up in the corner of the room. The house was warm and a bit stuffy, sounds of a foreign television show came from the kitchen. On the white Formica table sat a plate of chocolate digestives.

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Right before the door opened, there were sounds of stilettos tapping against the terra-cotta tiles. Patterns flickered behind her as the Moroccan themed lamp threw shadows onto the well kept indoor plants.

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A steady flow of loud bass emanated from the house. The shoe rack behind the door was filled with countless pairs of sports shoes in various children’s sizes.

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Through the front window the kitchen looked nonexistent. A green front door can be seen leaning against the fridge.

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Sitting on top of the piano in the hallway, a doll in a tango dress greeted and terrified guests. In the living room were a set of aged leather reclin-ers, a hand-stitched pillow read “Home Sweet Home”. A caricature of the couple hung above the sofa, blending in to the amber yellow wall.

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The coat rack was covered by every style and colour imaginable. The white stair bannisters were entwined with fairy lights. On the half moon table in the hallway were candles in tea-cup saucers and brightly coloured faux flowers. A large pile of dirty washing sat at the bottom of the stairs on the cracked cream floor tiles. The kitchen was well used, dirty crockery left behind on every surface. The kitchen’s stark strip lighting contrasted with the red spotty bunting. Above the blue farmyard kitchen table hung a retro clock. In the living room the mismatched sofas had been covered in various patterned floral blankets, the black and white cat almost unnoticeable amongst the clutter.

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The house was open plan, yet the sombre colour scheme made it feel a lot smaller. A jet black wall-paper with alternating gloss and matte vertical stripes surrounded the living room. The carpet was purple. The sofas were purple. The flowers on the mantelpiece were purple in a painfully plastic manner. In the middle of the room, on a woolly purple carpet, sat a baby surrounded by his favourite toys.

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She stood in her dressing gown on the dark green carpet trying to stop the dogs from getting out. Voices could be heard shouting from behind her.

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A single bulb without any cover suspended from the ceiling. The house was in chaos; the granite floors sparkled from beneath myriads of packing boxes.

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The olive green carpets were thin and roughly textured. The pale pink walls were divided horizontally by a white skirting board. Two cat litter trays were tucked in the corner.

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A folded wheelchair leant against the dark blue wall, having just been pulled up the specifically built ramp. The sound of a microwave hummed in the background.

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It was dark and dusty, the carpet looked grey and faded apart from in the very corners of the room where tufts of the original blue still remained. A stack of paper on the pine table in the hallway was held down by a brass paper weight.

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The pale green hallway showcased pictures of young girls in graduates hats and wedding dresses. Two postman’s jackets hung from the coat rail, the decor was dated, dark red carpets and mismatched furniture gave the living room a cluttered feel. There were souvenirs in every room, the kitchen fridge was crammed with magnets from various countries as well as post-cards they had sent to themselves. On the sofa was a stuffed toy wearing a Disneyland cowboy hat. Above it hanging on the wall was a picture of the couple in Hollywood reenacting a Rambo film poster.

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A mobility walker blocked the door to the down-stairs toilet. On a dark wood table was a white telephone sitting on the yellow pages, with a matching chair tucked underneath.

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On the wall behind them was a poster of workers sitting on the Golden Gate Bridge, the smell of fish wafted through from the kitchen.

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The open plan room had a fully functional bar in the corner. Remnants of a curry was spread across the glass dining room table. The twin brown leather sofas took up most of the space, the heavy curtains were closed making the room feel like a den.

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The large open plan living space was lit by spotlights, the decor was minimal, the kitchen was white, very clean with shinny granite work tops. A breakfast bar divided the living space from the kitchen. Two black leather sofas faced a large flat screen television, angled perfectly to avoid the reflection from the window. The back wall was made entirely of glass and opened onto a tropical looking garden. Palm trees bordered the small paved space and two rainbow coloured parasols leant against the garden shed.

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It smelt like spicy food, a candelabra style light fitting hung from the taupe coloured ceiling. The thick purple carpet ran throughout the hallway and up the gated stairs. The old PC in the corner showed a paused game of Texas Hold’em.

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The whole room was open and flooded with natural light. The entire back wall was made of glass and folded to the side, the decor made warmer by intelligently chosen vintage furniture. Jazz music could be heard from upstairs, the grey cat swayed to the music and eventually slumped on a lime green velvet armchair. On the bare brick wall hung an expensive looking bicycle and several large works of art in white bordered picture frames.

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The radiator was encased with wooden panels, delicate flower detailing had been cut into them, rows of candles sat on the surface. The house smelt like floral air-freshener.

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All shoes had to be removed at the door. There was a large open plan living area, the room was bright and clean, her photography of large images of sunsets and blue lagoons were displayed on the walls. There were books neatly stacked in pine bookshelves amongst her earth tone furniture and a large indoor pot plant sat in the corner of the room. It was a calm space.

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The house smelt of Lynx deodorant. The open plan kitchen looked unused apart from a box of Sugar Puffs. The walls were white, his running shoes squeaked on the tiled floor as he walked through to the kitchen, on the oak dining room table was an array of paperwork, an opened laptop and an empty coffee cup. The room was dull apart from a Peter Andre calendar pinned on a white wall. Behind the dark brown curtains a fully decorated Christmas tree laid flat in the garden.

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The house felt like a cottage; an Agga took up a large part of the kitchen, green and red tiles bordered well used work tops. It smelt like home cooking. The living room was spacious, swirly glittery wallpaper covered the walls and purple sofas faced a large television showing a reality TV show. She sat on the sofa amongst pink fluffy pillows. In the centre of the room bolted in place was a dancing pole.

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Placed on the garish Persian rug was a glass cabinet containing painted Chinese figurines. On top of the cabinet was a white sculpture of two cherubs holding hands. The painted glass lamp-shade threw streams of light across the white granite floor.

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He held the excitable jack russell back from the doorway, it smelt like men’s cologne. Two purple pin stripped shirts draped over the toilet door. On a table behind him was a mirror with a pot of open hair gel below it.

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The fan light on the ceiling made a whirring sound. The wallpaper was a faded floral pattern, a poster of London hung on the wall behind him. The dark carpet was barely attached to the floor.

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Nailed above the front door was a Chinese lucky symbol. On the white plastic garden table behind him were a large pile of coats and handbags, the house smelt of fried vegetables.

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It smelt like museums and sounded like a dog pound. The walls had been plastered to look like a thatched cottage with black wooden beams. Every inch of wall and ceiling space had been covered in old pots and pans, boat paraphernalia, taxidermy and picture frames. The living room was a blast to the past, the suit of armour in the corner and red telephone box in the garden seemingly unimpressive amongst his horde of objects.

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The house was a combination of pastel colours. On the mantelpiece encased within a domed jar sat her wedding shoes. Framed life drawings hung from the mint green walls in the living room. A lampshade made out of an old bowler hat suspended above the vintage chest coffee table. On the kitchen window sill an impressive pile of cookbooks leant against a Tagine.

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There was a strong smell of incense, a Persian rug was carefully placed to cover up the cracked white tiles, a coloured paper lampshade made the hall glow a pale pink. Behind on a white chest of drawers were piles and paper and an empty vase.

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The house was a shrine to an only child; every room was adorned with pictures, caricatures and paintings of one dark-haired smiling girl. A large photo of her dancing amongst autumn leaves was hung in the hallway, similar to the one in the living room, of her playing piano in the sun. Trophies and certificates sat polished on display behind glass cabinets. The sound of hovering seemed never-ending and the smell of lemon cream cleaner was unmistakable. Inside the wardrobe were shoeboxes stacked in such a way that one more box would ruin the symmetry. Each one was labelled with a photograph of the shoes, its price and the date they were purchased.

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The golden Labrador skidded on the varnished floors, reaching the door before his owner could. Above the pine side table behind him were various watercolour paintings of naval ships.

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