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Recycled from the CHEeR (Urbandale Centre for Home Energy Research), a solar-thermal house that Associate Professor Sheryl Boyle worked on with Professors Ian Beausoleil-Morrison and Cynthia Cruickshankof the Department of Mechanical and Aerospace Engineering. Completed in 2015, it sits on Carleton’s north campus at the corner of Bronson Ave. and Sunnyside Ave.

This tile had three layers of red and three layers of green linseed oil applied to it for the study. The application of linseed oil is a traditional technique for material preservation used in the 19th century. In the past 50 years, traditional materials and techniques have been replaced by new ones. Modern materials were often assumed to be better, but the opposite has proven to be true. Compared to modern oils and varnishes, linseed oil has demonstrated better durability.

Inspired by the precision of linear perspective, this panel explores the relationship between two highly versatile materials while forming an asymmetrical composition. The panel uses an abstracted depiction of advancements in steel buildings and aeronautics placed strategically on a backdrop of natural untreated wood. The assembly attempts to create an accurate representation of the material's true state without distortion. To achieve this, the material properties had to be carefully considered and coordinated seamlessly to create a balanced composition representative of the tile’s underlying narrative.

After being in floodwaters for some time, this pine plank has developed a beautiful pattern of mould growth on both sides under the thin layer of varnish. The varnish sealed in the moisture of the waterlogged wood and created a “greenhouse” when exposed to the sun, creating prime condition for mould growth. This tile was placed within the quilt wall in a way that would draw attention to the thin space between varnish and wood where bacteria has started to grow. The beautiful pattern of the mould on both sides is skin deep, in contrast to the clear wood grain on the end of the piece. The wood shows the iron stains of a nail at the exposed edge and provide hints to its former use.

Through processes of collection, composition, iteration, and reflection, this tile aims to discover a new instrument for drawing with found materials. To assemble this tool, a grid of holes was pre-drilled in the piece of pine to match the sizes of the varying pencil stems. Overall, the assembly transforms a single line created with the hand into a plurality of lines that can embrace the motion of the forearm.

Among the grid of lead and charcoal pencils is a small number of red pencils arranged in the constellation Cassiopeia. Dr. Boyle choose to include Cassiopeia as it is the constellation she saw above her fire pit while making the charcoal drawing sticks. Although often whitewashed by Europeans, the constellation represents an Ethiopian Queen of unrivalled beauty who chose to speak her mind but was punished for it and turned into a constellation by the angry god Poseidon. On this tile, the red pencils declare their place among the grid of charcoal pencils and become an acknowledgment to Black women who have been silenced throughout history.

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A single piece of walnut wood was cut and planed to the specified dimensions. Then, a simple, raised-relief pattern was hand-carved into the walnut with a chisel. The walnut was finished with mineral oil and beeswax to highlight the wood's natural colour and longitudinal grain. This tile attempts to represent Georgia's architectural styles and history through its pattern, material, and technique. The pattern carved into the walnut mimics precast concrete panel motifs found throughout the former Soviet Union in the late 20th-century. The technique is a reminder of carving techniques used in early 20th-century Georgian vernacular wood architecture. The tile's materiality and contextual significance reflect Associate Professor Suzanne Harris-Brandts' research.

The material weathering has revealed details of how the molding was crafted. It is comprised of thin pressed laminate, a backing of poplar wood, and a specialty wood bead strip.

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This tile is one in a series of five tiles that showcase an interpretation of the school’s emblem. It is made with 16-gauge mild steel, sheet copper, and machine screws. The steel tile and emblem geometry were cut by drilling holes and then cutting from hole to hole with a jigsaw. The edges were smoothed down with a file, and the copper sheet was epoxied to the back of the steel. Holes were then drilled for the machine screws, which were then attached with epoxy. 

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Platonic elements are assembled in a toolbox tray recycled from the trash in Luskville, Que. The triangular, Frankincense cones from the Apothecary Museum at Heidelberg Castle fill the surrounding air with aromatic incense. Adjacent is the square, a fragrant soap from Sabon on 6th Avenue in New York City, representing water. The circle, a Malaysian Oak Gall represents earth. The galls are wombs created by the gall wasp which lays its eggs on the central vein of an oak leaf which eventually falls from the tree and is returned to the earth.
Suspended in the centre of the box is fire: A powerful and flammable type of glue traditionally used by First Nations for sealing joints of birchbark canoes. It has the consistency of black glass allowing it to be stored on a twig and later activated by heat over a fire. It consists of a willow twig from Lapasse, Que. dipped in pine pitch glue made from pine sap from Gatineau Hills, charcoal powder of Cedar of Lebanon pinecones from Bristol, bone dust, and unfiltered beeswax.

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The wooden saw clamps that hold the scale are there to inspire thought on the relationship between the saw and the scale. The tile is a reminder of the importance of scale in architecture. Scale is especially essential to early design stages as it establishes the feeling of a space. The tool held by the wooden clamps was once a vital part of architecture as it allowed proportions to be seen in relation to the human body.
As digital technology has found its role within architecture, scale and proportional relationships to the human body are being lost. Digital space offers users a continuous scale (1:500, 1:499, 1:498) by scrolling in and out, resulting in a loss of proportional scale with only a photoshopped figure able to define it.
Conventional scales such as 1:500, 1:200, 1:100, 1:50 are moments that allow architects to "feel" dimension at specific cuts in the continuous digital scale. These conventional scales are often understood by architects by working in physical space.

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Cellulose is the most abundant natural fibre found in nature. It has an unmatched ability to create new materials from second or third-generation fibres. Jesse Bird's research utilizes different combinations of recovered plant fibres that have been processed into a specialized blend of nano-micro fibre cellulose (NMFC) to form an all-natural, moldable, structural material.
Over three years of research and development with resources in CSALT Labs, nano-micro fibre cellulose (NMFC) and hemp-lime mixes were investigated and tested, often in the same room, on the same table. Combining these existing building materials resulted in a hybrid of two building processes and two academic research studies. One focused on the health benefits of hemp-lime construction in Northern Ontario, while the other developed fabrication methods for nano-cellulose composites for local communities in Sao Paulo, Brazil.
This panel uses a specific arrangement of each material to form a dimensionally stable block that requires no glues or adhesives.

On April 29, 2019, the area where the cupboard piece was found experienced peak flooding at three metres above the typical water level. It was the second “100-year flood” to hit the region in two years. The tile’s horizontal organization. defined by the hinge, with the lower piece projecting out and the upper piece serving as the backdrop, would allow the lower piece to pivot and float should it encounter rising waters but only to a certain point.

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A CNC router is a computer-automated tool that offers increased precision and complexity, which is difficult to achieve with a manual route. In creating the original piece, computer-aided designs (CAD) were translated into code readable by the machine. The machine operator then set the code and black cherry on the device and started the routing process. This section of a much larger piece of wood was chosen for its aesthetic quality and was cut to its current dimensions using a table saw. Lucuik added wooden sides to give the piece a finished character.

The interior side of the roofing is stamped with a figure of the Queen of England and the text NADA stamped in blue ink and is a reminder of the depth of the colonial attitude in the early 1900’s. While manufactured materials are often not associated with politics, they can nevertheless have overt or underlying political and social connotations. Associate Professor Sheryl Boyle attempted to decolonize the material to continue its life without continuing its previous historical connotations. By making intentional cuts to the material, Dr. Boyle removed the CA from the word CANADA, leaving behind the word NADA, a word with no meaning now left beside the Queen’s image.

The material weathering has revealed details of how the molding was crafted. The molding is comprised of thin pressed laminate, a backing of poplar wood, and a specialty wood bead strip. This tile aims to tell a story of craft through the lens of un-making. As time goes on some crafts are modernized, while others are forgotten or difficult to retrace. It is a reminder that we still have much to learn from the past and that these things can be learned in reverse.

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The base of the tiles is wood salvaged from the Parliament Hill East Block rehabilitation by Professor Mariana Esponda during a site visit. This tile had two layers of white linseed oil applied to it for the study. The application of linseed oil is a traditional technique for material preservation used in the 19th century. In the past 50 years, traditional materials and techniques have been replaced by new ones. Modern materials had often been assumed to be better, but the opposite has proven to be true. Compared to modern oils and varnishes, linseed oil has demonstrated better durability

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This piece began as a trip to a local blacksmith, Whitewater Forge, in Beachburg, Ont., where the artisan was busy melting waste metal to create new pieces. The powerful cycle of heat was visible in colours: black, red, yellow, white and back to the black of the iron. The blacksmith created a spiral of iron into a circle encapsulating this sun-like heat into a form. The spiral “sun” was then complemented with a brass “moon” reclaimed from a kitchen faucet, creating a representation of the night-to-day cycle that powers our planet. At the centre of this composition is Associate Professor Sheryl Boyle’s architectural drafting compass from high school, establishing architecture's role in creating spaces through drawing within the larger cycle of light and dark. The entire composition is carefully installed with screws and brass clips into a toolbox tray picked from garbage in Luskville, Que.

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The base of the tiles is wood salvaged from the Parliament Hill East Block rehabilitation by Professor Mariana Esponda during a site visit. This tile had two layers of white linseed oil applied to it for the study. The application of linseed oil is a traditional technique for material preservation used in the 19th century. In the past 50 years, traditional materials and techniques have been replaced by new ones. Modern materials had often been assumed to be better, but the opposite has proven to be true. Compared to modern oils and varnishes, linseed oil has demonstrated better durability

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This piece of weathered metal roofing with rust, paint, and deformation was given a second life when Associate Professor Sheryl Boyle found the metal roofing along with a pile of other building materials at the side of the road while cycling. She returned later to retrieve the material, flatten it from its crumpled form, and mount it to a piece of pine. The roofing’s second life would be as a piece of art that reframes the notion of trash and making.
This tile is one in a set of two tiles that showcase the metal roofing, one displaying the side left exposed to the elements and the other the side left protected. This tile shows the side left to be weathered further showcasing the effect time has on materials as an ever-changing cycle.

Each piece of wood has a unique story to tell. The lower blue-green wood fragments are from a house in Issac’s Harbour, Nova Scotia. One fragment had veneer overlaid on the front before being painted, and the other fragment is painted pine. Isaac’s Harbour was initially Mi’kmaq habitation, consisting of a burial ground and at least two encampments and perhaps a third at Webb’s cove. The first colonists were Black Loyalists who arrived in 1817.
The first white settlers arrived in the early 1830s. The pine planks were from an early 1900s house in Isaac’s Harbour. The grain of the wood recorded the rain, winds, and atmosphere of the East Coast community. The grain is visible but was covered on the front face with paint the colour of the ocean and the sky.

The pine pieces in the tile above are from 30-foot-long floor joists in Associate Professor Sheryl Boyle’s house in the ByWard Market, built in 1895. The ends of the joists were cut from the building during a porch restoration in 2019 and left in a heap for landfill until Dr. Boyle salvaged them. They have visible iron stains from the hand-forged nails, pockmarks from hammers, and honey-coloured tones from years of aging alongside the coal chute to the basement. They are part of a construction system of first growth pine timber floor joists and stacked pine timber walls held vertically with heavy rib-like strapping. This construction system is reminiscent of the houses built by canal boatbuilders at the turn of the century.

Lastly, wood from an early 20th century carpenter’s toolbox, found at the side of the road in Luskville, Que. has also been assembled into this landscape of stories. The wooden toolbox had two upper trays, a space for two saws held in with wooden latches in the lid, and marks from the various iron tools inside the box. It smelled musty from sitting abandoned in a basement, and all edges being rounded and scuffed showing signs of wear and use. Craftspeople are critical in the transformation of the wood to plank to building, mostly done by hand-labour at the turn of the century. Tooling marks are left on the material and indications of its environment and atmosphere are visible in its grain.

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The ball-peen hammer, also known as a machinist's hammer, was pioneered in the metalworking era as a tool for cold shaping. For this panel, it was used as a vehicle for imprinting the foam's high-density surface with hemispherical craters. Using varying degrees of intensity, shallow or deep impacts are seen covering the entire front surface of the panel. The intention was to draw the viewer's attention to the main face of the panel and have the results resemble machine milling or other processes commonly performed using Computer-Aided Design (CAD) or Computer Numerical Controls (CNC).

In the mid-1960’s an Ottawa Valley family planted a forest of Red Pine with the hope that their grandchildren would be able to use the wood to build homes on the adjacent land. Sixty years later, the pines were felled and milled on-site into square timbers and have provided materials for several buildings in the Ottawa Valley. The tile is a piece of that Red Pine deemed as waste during the process of squaring timbers, a process that is inherently wasteful due to the natural roundness of tress and the squareness of lumber.
Wood waste is often used as firewood. However, the sap-infused skins of the RedPpine make a glamorous rebellion in a fire as it sparks and pops like natural fireworks, limiting its use as firewood. While we can dream of having no waste, to accomplish this goal we must first understand the relationship between the idea of waste and use. This tile was intentionally cut from a piece of waste to show the bark, grain, and the marks of the saw that divided it from the “useful”. These questions of embedded exclusion in materiality, and material life cycle and prominent to Associate Professor Sheryl Boyle’s interests and research and the Azrieli School of Architecture & Urbanism.

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