Studio Wisdom Archives - ShaRena Steeple Studio

Seoul Architecture : Moments of Occulance

ShaRena Steeple — Sun, 21 Sep 2025 18:14:58 +0000

Occulance (noun): The phenomenon of experiencing an oculus moment in architecture, characterized by a profound emotional or sensory connection evoked through a structural opening or design feature, often symbolic or functional, that directs light, vision, or focus. It embodies the awe and reflection inspired by architectural elements that transcend utility.

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While in Seoul, South Korea, I had the pleasure of visiting and experiencing moments of occulance at the National Museum of Korea, SONGEUN, Dongdaemun Design Plaza (DDP), the LG Arts Center, the Lotte World Mall, and the Leeum Museum of Art.

These experiences gave me a taste of transcendence, and although these architectural spaces are not considered sacred or religious, the moments of occulance within them transports the occupant beyond the architecture itself and into a phenomenal place of intuitive feeling and sensory elevation.

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3 Models In : Interval

ShaRena Steeple — Sun, 21 Sep 2025 07:30:21 +0000

Since It is the anniversary of my completion of the plaster project and being on the other side of it witnessing the new class cross the threshold of completion, I thought I’d reminisce a bit.

In the second year of architecture at California Baptist University (CBU), Interval aka the plaster project arrives like a quiet storm, unassuming at first, then all-consuming. It’s a rite of passage, a test of patience, time management and the ability to find the message in the mess. We were led with an essay “Transparency: Literal and Phenomenal,” by architectural theorists Colin Rowe and Robert Slutzky expressing the nuance of phenomenal transparencies.

For my cube study, I chose the words rhythm & repition. I found my muse in the tortoise, a creature whose movement is deliberate, and it’s shell is both armor and architecture.

The turtle doesn’t rush because it can’t: its form demands intention. Every step is calculated and every pause is deliberate. That slow, steady rhythm became my design ethos; I consider it the pulse of my project. I studied the geometric patterns on its shell, which were interlocking and calmly complex. I saw in them a spatial logic, a natural tessellation that poises strength and phenomenology.

When I began the plaster cube project, I knew I wanted my exploration to go a little deeper than form, I wanted it to be ethnic. I turned to the textiles and patterns of my Indigenous heritage. The geometry found in fabric and bead work, in my own way, was me addressing my very own transparency. They became my visual language.

The tortoise remained my anchor. Its shell, a resilient architecture of interlocking forms, reminded me of the patience required in design and life. It moves with intention, armored yet vulnerable and that guided my iterations.

In cardboard, I explored rhythm through voids and patterning; cutting, folding, and layering to test how space could pulse and breathe. Each model was a study in rhythm. And then, somewhere between the third and fourth iteration, something clicked. I had sculpted an abstract tortoise emerging from the shell (literally and figuratively)!! Not planned, but emergent. It felt like a convergence of everything: the tortoise’s steady geometry, the rhythm of repetition, and the cultural memory embedded in fabric motifs.

check this out... In the image above, the top row is the same cube in two angles can you see the tortoise head emerging?! And the cube in the bottom left is as if he's in the shell. If you don't see it it's okay, keep reading

The second phase of the plaster cube project introduced a larger scale of the cube. This time I used foam core. We were tasked with translating our chosen iteration into a moldable form, one that could eventually be inverted to hold plaster and preserve the design. Time was tight, the process was unforgiving and yet, it was in this constraint that my concept began to become transparently clear.

I started thinking about rhythm, and more proactively about time itself…how it moves, how it’s marked, how it’s remembered. In my culture, the tortoise is a creature of patience and a keeper of time. Ancient stories speak of its shell as a divine calendar, mapping cosmological cycles across its back. Each patch holds a rhythm and means something beyond the tangible and that is the essence of phenomenology.

As I refined my foam core models, I searched for a form that could carry that symbolism. The final design emerged as an abstract tortoise, it wasn’t in a literal sense but more so evocative. The abstraction left an element to be seen without being seen – I believe that is what Rowe and Slutzky expressed in the essay. To come to this revelation through a form, felt like a monument to time, and ancestral wisdom.

Getting the plaster to the right consistency was pure chaos. There’s no sugarcoating it. My first pour was a surprise, not a failure, but definitely not what I had envisioned. I hadn’t fully transliterated my voids into solids or my solids into voids. The spatial logic was off, but the result had a raw beauty to it. It looked cool, although unintended, it was compelling.

By the second pour, I had cracked a crucial hack: lining the entire interior of my foam core mold with thick, clear duct tape. Without it, the plaster seeps into the paper lining and bonds like concrete to foam core. With it, the mold releases cleanly. Hack mastered. The second pour came out beautifully.

But then came the waiting. Forty-eight hours passed, and the plaster still hadn’t fully cured. It was dense, but damp. And in that liminal space between wet, dry, frustration and possibility…I began to work with the substance itself.

During desk crit, Professor Youseff encouraged me to carve. To treat the plaster not just as a cast, but as a medium. The moment I scraped away that first slice, something shifted. I felt ancient and connected. My hands were shaping the material, they had become the hands of a maker. It was meditative, almost sacred. A classmate stopped by my desk and was like, “Whoa, that kind of looks like a temple… and my only thought was, “Perfect!”

I fell in love with that second model. It held the story of sacred discovery. But the assignment required three final pieces, so I had to keep going. This time, I secretly hoped the plaster wouldn’t cure all the way. I wanted to carve again and return to that ancestral joy.

Success. The third model demolded cleanly, and the plaster consistency was perfect, soft enough to carve, strong enough to hold form. Plaster had gone from mystery to muse, and I had learned to listen to it.Three models in, and I had made an underrated discovery about myself…I’m indeed a phenomenologist.

Reusing the mold from my second pour (thanks to the duct tape lining and careful unboxing) saved me precious time. I was down to my final night before presentations, and still had to complete an orthographic graphite wash of my final model on vellum. Truth be told, my second model was my final model. It held the soul of the project, the rhythm, and the story.

I carved the third using the same meditative technique, letting my hands move with memory. Then came the graphite wash, which was my first ever. Equipped with nothing but painters’ tape, graphite, and a few cotton pads, I made it happen. The process was intuitive, and surprisingly satisfying.

At critique, I received generous feedback on the model and the narrative of my process. The carving, cultural symbolism, the graphite wash and rhythm all came together.

Through this project, I found artistry in iteration and, most importantly, comradeship. We were all in it together, carving, casting, and surviving. The plaster project was grueling, no doubt but it was also transformative.

I survived with three models, and a profound understanding of phenomenal transparency. My surprise takeaway was the reunion with the maker within.

do you see it now!? third picture bottom left, the shell can be seen in the void and the tortoise head and neck protrudes from it at the very bottom of the model. second picture middle left, is the front view. I truly hope you see it

it was all meant... It was two days before critique, I was at club rush, and I stopped at the NOMAS table to greet some of the upperclassmen in architecture. I played a matching game and won a 3D print! Top right, I picked...the only one that made sense!

I even designed a graphic tee in commemoration of the project.

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Seoul-ful

ShaRena Steeple — Thu, 17 Apr 2025 15:21:57 +0000

Reverence

While in Seoul, South Korea, I experienced a remarkable cultural harmony that seamlessly blended self-expression through craft and art, childlike joy through entertainment, and a deep reverence for tradition through architecture, social customs, and food. The Korean salutation of bowing, used to greet, thank, and bid farewell, left a resounding impression on my soul while in Seoul. This simple yet profound gesture exemplifies the respect ingrained within the culture, extending into every aspect of daily life.

The reverence for tradition was evident in the interactions, in the way food was served, in the meticulous execution of the royal guard ceremony at the palace, and even in how people patiently waited for over thirty minutes outside a small shop for BAO. This act demonstrated both an appreciation for craftsmanship and a celebration of cultural heritage through food.

Self Expression and Childlike Joy

In addition to tradition, Seoul’s built environment embraced self-expression and creativity through art and entertainment. Many spaces served as canvases for art installations and technological displays, encouraging interactive and immersive experiences. Pop culture flourished with adorable cartoon-like characters featured on themed buildings, shops, and even transportation. A visit to a whimsical cat café encapsulated the city’s playful charm, adding to the childlike joy embedded in its social and cultural landscape.

Harmony

Throughout the city, I observed two worlds existing in harmony, the preservation of the old world, with its traditional architecture and historical significance, alongside the cutting-edge innovation of modernity. Iconic landmarks such as the royal palaces stood as testaments to history, evoking a sense of awe and grounding the city’s identity in its past. Simultaneously, soaring skyscrapers and avant-garde designs reflected Seoul’s embrace of technological advancement and architectural evolution.

The harmonious duality had a profound impact on Seoul’s inhabitants. Traditional spaces, with their quiet elegance, inspired moments of reflection and respect. Modern spaces, on the other hand, buzzed with energy and creativity. Together, these environments shaped a unique cultural rhythm that resonated deeply with me.

In my photographic essay, I captured this coalescence of tradition, creativity and innovation, illustrating how Seoul’s built environment preserves its history while propelling its people forward in unique and inspiring ways. Through images of ceremonial spaces, bustling markets, themed shops, art exhibits and modern architecture juxtaposed against historical landmarks, I document the ways in which Seoul’s inhabitants engage with these contrasting worlds, finding harmony in their coexistence.

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Winning : How Team InVision Reimagined Classroom Access for Deaf Students

ShaRena Steeple — Sun, 06 Apr 2025 00:02:46 +0000

This spring, I had the honor of winning 1st place in the Annual Bob Goodrich Business Plan Competition at CBU with Team InVision, a group of engineers, designers and strategists in CBU’s NSBE chapter.

Our pitch is a visionary software platform that integrates with VR technology and Meta Quest/ Meta Glasses to provide real-time classroom access for deaf students. The system overlays speech-to-text scripts directly into the student’s visual field, allowing them to follow lectures live, save transcripts as notes, and even schedule virtual interpreters all within a customizable dashboard.

Designed with STEM and engineering majors in mind, the software supports complex mathematical notation, special characters, and numerical formatting; bridging a gap that traditional captioning tools often miss.

We built this concept to challenge the disconnect in standard classrooms and advocate for inclusive, tech-forward learning environments. The experience sharpened my graphic storytelling skills and deepened my commitment to design that empowers.

Winning the competition was a milestone and the real win is knowing that design can be a tool for accessibility and connection.

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