The Location

Choosing the location for our proposal was a crucial turning point in shaping the idea. Out of the many central Yerevan spots we considered, we finally landed on placing the installation right in the middle of Swan Lake.

“Is it a public space?” one might ask. Yes, absolutely—and here’s why:

There’s no doubt that the walkways and alleys around the lake are public. Since the 1960s, it’s been one of Yerevan’s most beloved places. But what about the lake itself? We realized it’s actually one of the most underrated and overlooked public spaces in the city.

Every summer during Vardavar, it’s filled with people splashing around and enjoying the heat. During the World Cup or Euro Cup, a giant screen is set up right in the lake, with people gathered on a platform to watch the games. In winter, when the lake is drained, it turns into an ice-skating rink. And of course, there's the legendary moment when Kanye West jumped into the lake, followed by police officers and a wave of fans—a scene that’s now part of the city’s folklore.

So yes—it is a public space. And it’s the perfect one for our proposal.

The Idea

Climate change and pollution have been major topics since the 60s. Sixty years later, we're still harming the planet—and now more than ever, it’s the biggest threat facing our civilization.

Yerevan’s air gets worse by the day, thanks to unchecked, greedy real estate development, the overload of personal vehicles, and a broken public transport system. On top of that, Armenian society is processing the heavy trauma of war, grief, and ongoing instability. The pressure is building, affecting every part of our lives.

Our idea responds to both global and local crises.

We feel the need for joy, for lightness, for play—a breath of fresh air, a sigh.

The proposal draws heavily from the radical architecture of the 60s and 70s. We’ve always been inspired by the works of Haus-Rucker-Co, Ant Farm, Wolf Prix, Graham Stevens, Superstudio, and others. Their projects blurred the lines between art, architecture, and political commentary. It was a time of bold experimentation—pneumatic structures, temporary buildings, a focus on lightness and sustainability, all wrapped in radical critique of the mainstream.

We imagined a large, translucent pneumatic cloud, made of PVC-coated polyester fabric, floating just a couple of meters above Swan Lake. It’s suspended by four slightly outward-leaning, chrome-plated metal posts, held in place by tensioned cables.

It’s a breath of lightness—an ethereal, functionless object. A playful gesture meant to catch the eye, spark curiosity, and maybe, just maybe, make you smile.

Once you’re intrigued, you spot a small sign next to the lake. There’s a QR code.

You scan it, and a stop motion animation plays. It ends with a note:

“This cloud is fun! But it won’t stop climate change or clean the air. Demand action!”

For the past decade, climate messaging has made us, the everyday people, feel personally guilty for environmental collapse—while corporations and governments continue steering us toward the edge. Social media algorithms push us to consume more, produce more, and inevitably pollute more.

Of course we should all stay conscious—but we also have to demand action, both locally and globally.

Quote

“Up in the Air” evokes a feeling of lightness, joy, and playfulness - a breath of fresh air, a sigh we all so deeply need.

The “Disclaimer Cloud” represents that feeling - an ethereal, functionless object. A playful gesture meant to catch the eye, spark curiosity, and maybe, just maybe, make you smile.

It’s fun! But it won’t stop climate change or clean the air. Demand action!