ANNE MARTE AURE
Integrert master ved École Nationale
Architecture Paris- Malaquais
Foto: Paolo Ricci
At the age of four, my family and I moved from Sunnmøre to Skedsmokorset situated between Oslo and the recently inaugurated Oslo Airport. Traveling by car between the east and the west, my enduring passion revolves around geology, marveling at how it has forged territories and living patterns for humans and non-humans.
I vividly recall the initial foray into independence when I explored a petite grove beneath our housing cooperative. The forest nestled deep in a valley, with a stream running through it, and there was a frog pond. One day, I brought a plastic bucket filled with tadpoles into our apartment. A few years later, I got my knee stuck between two dead tree trunks in the deep valley. I was alone, and no one could hear my cries. Once, I saw a viper, but I never told anyone. Today, I realized that the deep valley, hemmed in by a field, power lines, garages, and a wheat field, was just a small part of what was once a long ravine winding towards the Nitelva River, where residential neighborhoods, the school, the football field, the roundabout, and the military airport now stand.
Since my initial adventure, I’ve embarked on numerous journeys. At the age of 19, I made the decision to depart from Skedsmokorset and move to Paris. Two years later, I found myself admitted to an architecture school situated at the heart of Paris, on the grounds of the Beaux Arts. This decision has definitely opened me up to my sensitivity. Today, my work focuses on unraveling fresh narratives in pursuit of environmental justice, particularly emphasizing the earth and geology of the locations where we chose to build. Proficient in English, French, and Norwegian, I leverage my language skills to forge connections beyond borders, crafting new words that were once deeply rooted in specific contexts.
For the past year I have been working on building a theoretical and historical framework for my future design practice, giving talks and exhibiting in Norway and abroad.
The Cry From the Ravine : Unveiling a New Risk Vision in Romerike through its Landscape
The Cry From the Ravine is not just a project, it is a necessary plea to change the course of development in Romerike. Over the past 60 years, we have underestimated and under- communicated the risk of flooding, pollution and quick clay landslides, and today many hundreds of thousands of people live in a risk zone. A staggering 90% of today’s quick clay landslides are triggered by human activities, such as construction and excavation projects. Paradoxically, the pace of construction in Romerike, home to Norway’s main airport, situated north of Oslo, is accelerating at an unprecedented rate. This urgent revelation underscores the critical need for a conscientious shift in our approach to development.
The aim of this project is to initiate a discourse and involve a varied range of stakeholders in a thorough transformation rooted in a more profound comprehension of Romerike’s geology. Historically, conversations on navigating and adapting to demanding ground conditions have primarily confined themselves within exclusive geotechnical circles. The absence of geological understanding among authorities, municipalities, and developers gives rise to dangerous situations.
This collection of maps and drawings has formed the cornerstone of discussions during my travels across Østlandet, where I’ve showcased and delivered talks to diverse groups of people.