RECONSTRUCTIONS PORTRAIT: Sekou Cooke on Hip-Hop Architecture and Reconstruction
๐๐ฏ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฐ๐ค๐ค๐ข๐ด๐ช๐ฐ๐ฏ ๐ฐ๐ง Reconstructions: Architecture and Blackness in America ๐ข๐ต ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐๐ถ๐ด๐ฆ๐ถ๐ฎ ๐ฐ๐ง ๐๐ฐ๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ฏ ๐๐ณ๐ต, ๐๐๐โ๐๐ ๐ค๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ฎ๐ช๐ด๐ด๐ช๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ข๐ณ๐ต๐ช๐ด๐ต ๐๐ข๐ท๐ช๐ฅ ๐๐ข๐ณ๐ต๐ต ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ค๐ณ๐ฆ๐ข๐ต๐ฆ ๐ท๐ช๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ฐ ๐ฑ๐ฐ๐ณ๐ต๐ณ๐ข๐ช๐ต๐ด ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ด๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ธโ๐ด ๐ฑ๐ข๐ณ๐ต๐ช๐ค๐ช๐ฑ๐ข๐ต๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ข๐ณ๐ค๐ฉ๐ช๐ต๐ฆ๐ค๐ต๐ด, ๐ข๐ณ๐ต๐ช๐ด๐ต๐ด, ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ด๐ช๐จ๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ด. ๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ต๐ฆ๐ฏ ๐ฑ๐ฐ๐ณ๐ต๐ณ๐ข๐ช๐ต๐ด ๐ข๐ณ๐ฆ ๐ข๐ค๐ค๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ฑ๐ข๐ฏ๐ช๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ฃ๐บ ๐ช๐ฏ๐ต๐ฆ๐ณ๐ท๐ช๐ฆ๐ธ๐ด ๐ธ๐ช๐ต๐ฉ ๐ฆ๐ข๐ค๐ฉ ๐ฑ๐ข๐ณ๐ต๐ช๐ค๐ช๐ฑ๐ข๐ฏ๐ต (๐ด๐ฆ๐ฆ ๐ฃ๐ฆ๐ญ๐ฐ๐ธ). ๐๐๐โ๐๐โ๐ด ๐๐ฆ๐ค๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ด๐ต๐ณ๐ถ๐ค๐ต๐ช๐ฐ๐ฏ ๐๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ค๐ช๐ข๐ญ ๐ฆ๐ฅ๐ช๐ต๐ช๐ฐ๐ฏ ๐ช๐ด ๐ข๐ญ๐ด๐ฐ ๐ข๐ท๐ข๐ช๐ญ๐ข๐ฃ๐ญ๐ฆย ๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ฆ. ๐ ๐๐๐โ๐๐ ๐ฑ๐ข๐ณ๐ต๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ด๐ฉ๐ช๐ฑ ๐ธ๐ช๐ต๐ฉย ๐๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ฎ ๐๐ณ๐ฐ๐ธ๐ฏ๐ฆ.
Sekou Cooke is a Jamaican-born, Syracuse-based architect, curator, and educator. The founder of sekou cooke STUDIO and Assistant Professor at Syracuse University School of Architecture, Cooke is perhaps best known for his research and exhibitions on the emerging field of Hip-Hop Architecture, which excavate the architectural impact of hip-hop and its culture while proposing design practices that embody expressions and knowledges from beyond the ivory tower.
PINโUP: What led you to architecture?
Sekou Cooke: Iโm one of those rare creatures who, for some reason, decided that I wanted to be an architect when I was five years old. It had something to do with me drawing a lot and taking all my toys apart to see how they were put together. I do remember my grandmother talking about these people who draw buildings for a living and thinking that sounded like fun. My older sister, however, was really the one who paved the way for me. Though she didnโt decide to study architecture until her last year of high school, her path from City College in New York to Cornell helped show me what was possible. Iโve told the story many times about how she literally filled out my application for me, photographed the work for my portfolio, and talked to Dr. Ray Dalton, then director of the Office of Minority Educational Affairs, about my application to make sure I got into Cornell.
Once I got there, I realized I really had no idea what architecture was, but these people were my people. Studying architecture challenged me in a way nothing else had up to that point, so I knew I was in the right place. Iโm still trying to figure out what architecture is.ย
How has your practice evolved?
My practice today looks almost nothing like it did 20 years ago, or ten years ago, or even five years ago, with the exception that Iโve always focused on getting my work built. This, to me, has always been the distinguishing factor between academics and practitioners. Now that Iโm more deeply involved with academia, Iโm still just as committed to getting work built, but Iโm now also committed to having a clear theoretical basis for the work that I do. That, of course, means that there needs to be several years of investment into a topic before its ideas can be properly tested in the real world. Fortunately, Iโve had more and more opportunity to test some of these theories in my practice. The main subject Iโve been researching over the last six years has been Hip-Hop Architecture, an architectural movement aimed at transmuting hip-hop culture into built form. I have been finding its origins, identifying its practitioners, and speculating on how it might transform the discipline of architecture. This work has led to a much more robust profile as a curator and theorist in academic circles. It has also, more recently, begun to shift the work that has been coming into my professional practice. The Close to the Edge exhibitions in New York (Center for Architecture, 2018) and St. Paul, Minnesota (SpringBOX, 2019) were not just curatorial exercises but also design products that can be considered Hip-Hop Architecture. Iโve also been working on a project for The Good Life Foundation in Syracuse to turn an abandoned warehouse building into the Syracuse Hip-Hop Headquarters. There are other hip-hop-based projects in the works as well that have yet to be made public.
What does โreconstructionsโ mean to you? Both as the title of the show and as a historical or contemporary reference?
I think the work of Reconstructions is a 150-year ongoing project. Weโre still, as a nation, not quite sure what to do to repair the damage begun over 400 years ago. Each attempt at reconstructing the relationship between America and its Black citizens has been mostly ceremonial and ultimately toothless. Much like the various treaties signed between our government and the indigenous nations that were here long before them, every single promise has been violated. But, for some reason, we continue to hope. This is why we continue to protest and strategize and struggle and compromise โ because we believe change can and will come. This is why I believe we formed the Black Reconstruction Collective: to take advantage of the opportunity afforded by the MoMA to spotlight and to continue the unfinished work of reconstruction, particularly in the architecture and design fields. In addition to the general mystery surrounding architecture โ what architects do, what our value is to society โ there is an almost complete lack of understanding or awareness of just how few Black architects there are. We are struggling to find relevance in a field that itself is struggling to find relevance. The Black Reconstruction Collective can become a powerful vehicle for elevating and amplifying the work of Black architects and designers, bringing them into a long-awaited spotlight. In this way, the work Iโve done on Hip-Hop Architecture shares a common mission with the collective.
Can you describe the project youโre creating in response to the MoMA Reconstructions brief? Where is it and why did you choose that location?
Iโve decided to focus on Syracuse, mostly because I donโt think we have to look far past our own backyards to find challenges to tackle. This was a city I had to make an argument for since it wasnโt on the original list. But once I explained its history of marginalizing and continually displacing and replacing its Black residents, and its imminent repetition of those same patterns with the planned demolition of Interstate 81 and redevelopment of its public-housing projects, it was hard for the curators to say no. My research into the demolition of the old 15th Ward in the 1960s (then a predominantly Black neighborhood), the 1940s Pioneer Homes housing project in Syracuseโs South Side, and the current Blueprint 15 project to tear down Pioneer and other Syracuse housing projects revealed a multi-textured, multi-layered built history within a very concentrated area of the city. My project takes those layers, samples them, remixes them, and lays them back on top of an imagined projection for the areaโs future. It turns a development โ projected to be a typically banal internally-focused housing project โ into an externally-focused image of public space for the Black community. We Outchea, as Iโve titled it, leverages contemporary narratives of mostly criminalized activity of Black people in public spaces to create a visual dialogue with the new housing proposal.
Interview by Drew Zeiba
Video portrait by David Hartt
Editing by Jessica Lin
Music by King Britt presents Moksha Black
A PINโUP production in partnership with Thom Browne
This video is part of a series of ten portraits David Hartt created for PINโUP on the occasion of Reconstructions: Architecture and Blackness in America at the Museum of Art (Feb 20โMay 31, 2021), curated by Mabel O. Wilson and Sean Anderson. The portraits were also published in the print edition of PINโUP 29.