1 of 11Jesse Grauer hand–built the frame of a house on the Heimbold lawn as part of an independent study that combined his interests in cultural anthropology and carpentry. In North America, timber framing—a type of post–and–beam construction—dates back to the first European immigrants, who needed to adapt their building techniques to the New World’s most plentiful building material: wood. David Bernstein (history) and Tishan Hsu (sculpture) advised Grauer on the project.

2 of 11The structure replicates historical New England architecture, blending form and function. Reluctant to term his project as strictly artistic in purpose, Grauer says, "I find meaning in the craft, the tradition, and in the beauty of the form." He expounds upon the value of exploring this archaic craft in his thesis: There is a connection I feel for these long gone people, who did things with a spiritual reverence, whose hands fashioned, out of the untouched land, everything from the cup they drank out of to the roof above their heads. Shelter, especially, is something sacred and unique. Shelter does something far more important than protect us from the cold and wet: it brings peace to our minds."

3 of 11Since the 1970's, there has been a timber framing revival, due largely to the form’s durable construction and natural beauty. Grauer drew upon his years of experience in carpentry and woodworking to create the entire structure by hand, including the smallest details, such as the joint fasteners. The milled lumber was delivered from Connecticut, Grauer’s home state; the beams are built of eastern white pine, while the pins are white oak. His father, Justin Grauer ’76, assisted with the construction.

4 of 11In timber framing, "The essential tools are a framing chisel and mallet, brace and bit, and handsaw,” Grauer says. “With these tools, given enough time, an experienced carpenter can build most anything." Grauer used traditional tools, including three pre–World War II James Swan chisels he discovered at an antique store. Their historical context fit in with Grauer's desire to pay homage to this traditional style of building. Grauer made his mallet by hand out of a piece of beech wood.

5 of 11In addition to his coursework at Sarah Lawrence, Grauer has studied this centuries–old tradition at several workshops, including at the Fox Maple School of Traditional Building, located in Maine.Grauer says, "To build spaces to house our lives affirms our past, asserts our present, and ensures our future. Wilderness survival experts will tell you, shelter can easily be a more critical necessity than food, fire, or even water. It is indispensable in its physical protection, but moreover, shelter is establishment of the familiar in an unknown and daunting situation–it is stability, assurance, home."

6 of 11For her senior thesis, Laura Lawler ’08 set out to combine her passion for environmental studies and public art spaces. The result? A survivalist, mobile yurt, built mostly from salvaged materials found on campus. Lawler imagined a post–apocalyptic 2150, plagued by massive melt downs, gas leaks, and oil spills. To create a livable environment, the yurt includes sustainable water, air, and soil filtration systems. Lawler says, "It was fun to look at the way we're dealing with the environment now and project it onto a future scenario. We may need these systems in the future, but we already need them today."

7 of 11On her blog, the Future Home Aesthetic (http://thefuturehome.blogspot.com), Lawler describes the yurt as "a safe pod for a future inhabitant on the run from contaminated, unsafe areas." Lawler built low–tech systems to purify and detoxify water, soil, and air. This three–tiered structure of charcoal filters and plants removes toxins from rainwater collected from the yurt’s gutter. The filters could work in the aftermath of an environmental disaster, when high–tech resources would likely be scarce.

8 of 11Bringing together elements of art and science, the yurt's interior is decorated with "future dystopic"–themed art, including drawings Lawler created. This guide for “detoxifying your personal breathing zone” has both aesthetic and educational purposes.

9 of 11The yurt remained on the Heimbold lawn for most of spring semester and throughout the summer. “I wanted to claim this space because it’s part of the arts,” Lawler says, adding: "This project felt like a good culmination of my studies and interest in the environment, pollution, and environmental health." The project evolved from her conference work for "Strategies of Visibility: Arts of Environmental Resistance," taught by Charles Zerner (environmental studies), and was advised by Zerner, Tishan Hsu (sculpture), and her don, Joe Forte (art history).

10 of 11In her thesis, Lawler imagines the yurt’s inhabitants as “eco–pioneers.” Eco–pioneers adapt traditional knowledge —such as how to build a terrarium and the uses of particular plants—to their current situation. (For example, a spider plant can absorb formaldehyde and other indoor air pollutants, transforming them into soil nutrients.) For one week per year, eco–pioneers would link up their yurts in “safe zones,” which possess giant air filters and sewage systems, to replenish resources and gain access to necessities such as medicine and nutritional supplements.

11 of 11To flesh out her vision of the future, Lawler got creative. For inspiration, she drew upon various videogames, magazine articles, movies, and books on using mushrooms for bioremediation; do–it–yourself guidebooks, and science fiction. These media were displayed in the yurt for visitors to browse. As part of the post–apocalyptic theme, Lawler made buttons with customized messages about remediating the environment. Displayed inside the yurt, the buttons help to create the atmosphere of an ecological emergency.