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The Museum of Accidents
Hala Warde HW Architecture Bibliotheque Virilio

The Museum of Accidents

Cerebral Petrification
 

Hala Wardé

 

The first stone of the Museum of Accidents was cast into the harbor of La Rochelle on April 1st, 2021, even before there was an architectural project. The idea was still at the earliest stage of a long gestation. As a first sketch, it seemed only natural to present an x-ray of my brain, where the idea of the Museum of the Accident had just begun to take shape—or rather, to take form as thought.

What appears are words, drawings, and images, layered and entangled like a palimpsest, slightly enigmatic. The words are those of Paul Virilio—striking, prophetic phrases that announce the accident and its future museum. The drawings reflect the accident of thoughts occurring in my mind.

It begins with a cosmic ray arriving from elsewhere, under Virilio’s gaze, striking the coast of La Rochelle where we now stand. This sets off a planetary shockwave, rippling across the world map and intersecting past accidents.
Some appear more clearly than others (Newton’s apple, Chernobyl, New York, Beirut...) accompanied by photographs. A first constellation begins to emerge, like a star-strewn sky. Slowly, a figure takes form, its components waiting to be recognized, named, and understood.

Many questions remain unanswered and everyone wants to know in advance where this museum will be built, what it will contain, and what its architecture will look like. It is far too early to say. What is certain is that it will elude all conventions. Its form and content will be unexpected. We will therefore continue to carefully monitor the cerebral ultrasound of this museum in gestation. At each stage of its evolution, we will produce digital imaging, consult experts, and use the most advanced techniques to analyze the data and offer a first glimpse of what it might become, as we await the happy accident of its birth!

Hala Warde HW Architecture Bibliotheque Virilio
Hala Warde HW Architecture Bibliotheque Virilio

The Library is limitless and periodic. If an eternal voyager were to cross it in any direction,

after centuries he would see that the same volumes were repeated in the same disorder –

which, thus repeated, would be an order: the Order. My solitude is gladdened by this elegant hope.

The Anatomy of Melancholy, Part 2, Section II, Memory IV, Jorge Luis Borges, 1941. Excerpt from Fictions.

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