Good question. I overnighted my last project to Steve Ross at 1 University Station B7500, Austin TX 78712-0222. I called the school of architecture to make sure that if I sent it to them and addressed it to Steve Ross, that it would be put in his mailbox. The girl confirmed twice. Yesterday, package with me at the post office. Today, package with her at UTSOA.
When I wrote my Independent Architectural Theory course, I had this idea in my head of having this fantastic portfolio at the end of the semester filled with pictures and cool graphic stuff--things that only my best friends/worst enemies photoshop and indesign could do for me. Things changed. Instead, I used the basics, nothing fancy: my two hands (and my mom's), scissors, markers, crayons, glue, and paper.
I submitted something, but not a portfolio. It's my messy collection of words and words, printed, cut, and pasted; it's like a scrapbook/scratchbook/journal. I didn't re-edit my grammar/spelling/word choice or anything like that. When reading through it, I FORGOT TO CAPITALIZE, use the wrong spellings or couldn't spell--faults that smart word processors work to correct and cover up. Somehow, I have too many to handle. They are like spots on a Dalmatian.
I've been learning. This blog has been good. I think I'm going to start a blog about my modeling, the part of my life I left architecture to purse but almost wholly and systematically edited out of this space. So far, all I've got is the name. 'Shoot Me! A Model's Musings...' I think it's cute. It should be interesting.
Bri
p.s. I finally found my camera, so I may or may not decide to post the pictures it's held hostage.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Friday, April 30, 2010
New World Symphony
designed by Frank Gehry.
Frank Gehry designed the New World Symphony in Miami Beach that is currently under construction located along 17th Avenue across from the Convention Center near Lincoln Road. Gehry won the commission in 2003 and is good friends with the orchestra director, nine-time Grammy winner Michael Tilson Thomas. The building is projected for completion sometime this year.
Unlike his other projects, this one is actually a box (well two, the second is a parking garage). The heart of the program is the 95,000 square-foot concert hall with a 700 person capacity. But office space, rehearsal rooms, and state-of-the-art media and technical facilities are also integral parts of the program as well. (These facilities will be equipped to send/receive coaching sessions, conferences, and even performances over Internet2—a technology so new I’ve never heard of it!) (Westphal).
The exterior is primarily white stucco and glazing. The white stucco is very appropriate because materially, it fits into Miami Beach’s style (stucco art-deco buildings). This material choice also avoids the excessive reflection, glare and heating costs (of neighboring buildings) that have plagued some of Gehry’s other works, like the Disney Concert Hall in Los Angeles. Additionally, on the front elevation adjacent to the park, the six-storey plane stucco will be used as a screen where programs and concerts (going on inside) can be projected at night for the public to watch. The glazed portions, namely the front entrance, will allow pedestrians/park-goers outside to see architectural drama of the interior spaces. Class/rehearsal rooms are unevenly stacked, enveloped by “ribbon-like” curves. (James).
There is an idea about containment within the project. It is a simple, white box that contains magic, movement, and music inside. Essentially, what we know to be typical ‘Gehry style’ is mostly contained within. (James).Gehry seeks to translate this magic to the interior architecture of the spaces with large, curving fluid elements that pierce/project outside of the box creating critical moments. One of these moments is on the front façade above the entrance.
West 8 is the architectural design firm in charge of the public park that will be adjacent to the front façade of the building. Gehry had designed the park, but because of the high commission costs, the city eventually chose to switched to another smaller/local/cheaper firm to take over this portion of the proposal. The project was projected to cost about $200 million dollars to construct while the park is projected at $21 million to date.
Some critics praise the building as a pivotal project in Gehry’s body of work because of it’s emphasis on interior and functionality compared to his other projects that are generally ‘objects’ in the landscape, famous for their exteriors. However, many, like me, are somewhat underwhelmed by the construction and renderings, that depict a rather bulky, awkward design in need of refinement (regardless of the architect that designed it). In the project’s defense, both architect and Thomas (the director) emphasize that most important, this building is educational, and it’s shape is therefore the most practical and functional for student needs.
Whatever the reason, all agree that this building is unquestionably better than the two parking garages that sat on the lot before. The bottom line is that having a building by Frank Gehry on Miami Beach will benefit the students who currently practice in a very overcrowded, rundown building and definitely help this tourist island.
Yes, generally all buildings are compromises between the architect’s vision, the users’ needs, and the financer’s wants, but this particular project seems to embody this struggle (not in a good way). It is part-boring/forgettable (so far) and then part just unappealing.
I’ve past this building everyday I’m in Miami Beach (which is a lot). The first few months, I didn’t actually take notice of it and then when I realized that the architect was Frank Gehry, it confused me. As construction continues, I keep thinking, “is that really supposed to be like that?” But after looking at the exterior renderings and building under construction, it does look like it’s supposed to.
---------------------------------------------------
Hegedus-Garcia, Ines. "Frank Gehry vs Miami Beach." Miamism.com. 20 April 2009.
29 April 2010 http://www.playbillarts.com/news/article/6156.html.
James. "New World Symphony Designed by Frank Gehry: A Transitional Piece?" Critque This! US.
18 September 2009. 29 April 2010 <http://www.critiquethis.us/2009/09/18/new-world-symphony- designed-by-frank-gehry-a-transitional-piece/.
Westphal, Matthew. "Photo Journal: Frank Gehry's Design for New World Symphony's New Hall."
Playbill Arts. 13 March 2010. 29 April 2010 http://www.playbillarts.com/news/article/6156.html.
Frank Gehry designed the New World Symphony in Miami Beach that is currently under construction located along 17th Avenue across from the Convention Center near Lincoln Road. Gehry won the commission in 2003 and is good friends with the orchestra director, nine-time Grammy winner Michael Tilson Thomas. The building is projected for completion sometime this year.
Unlike his other projects, this one is actually a box (well two, the second is a parking garage). The heart of the program is the 95,000 square-foot concert hall with a 700 person capacity. But office space, rehearsal rooms, and state-of-the-art media and technical facilities are also integral parts of the program as well. (These facilities will be equipped to send/receive coaching sessions, conferences, and even performances over Internet2—a technology so new I’ve never heard of it!) (Westphal).
The exterior is primarily white stucco and glazing. The white stucco is very appropriate because materially, it fits into Miami Beach’s style (stucco art-deco buildings). This material choice also avoids the excessive reflection, glare and heating costs (of neighboring buildings) that have plagued some of Gehry’s other works, like the Disney Concert Hall in Los Angeles. Additionally, on the front elevation adjacent to the park, the six-storey plane stucco will be used as a screen where programs and concerts (going on inside) can be projected at night for the public to watch. The glazed portions, namely the front entrance, will allow pedestrians/park-goers outside to see architectural drama of the interior spaces. Class/rehearsal rooms are unevenly stacked, enveloped by “ribbon-like” curves. (James).
There is an idea about containment within the project. It is a simple, white box that contains magic, movement, and music inside. Essentially, what we know to be typical ‘Gehry style’ is mostly contained within. (James).Gehry seeks to translate this magic to the interior architecture of the spaces with large, curving fluid elements that pierce/project outside of the box creating critical moments. One of these moments is on the front façade above the entrance.
West 8 is the architectural design firm in charge of the public park that will be adjacent to the front façade of the building. Gehry had designed the park, but because of the high commission costs, the city eventually chose to switched to another smaller/local/cheaper firm to take over this portion of the proposal. The project was projected to cost about $200 million dollars to construct while the park is projected at $21 million to date.
Some critics praise the building as a pivotal project in Gehry’s body of work because of it’s emphasis on interior and functionality compared to his other projects that are generally ‘objects’ in the landscape, famous for their exteriors. However, many, like me, are somewhat underwhelmed by the construction and renderings, that depict a rather bulky, awkward design in need of refinement (regardless of the architect that designed it). In the project’s defense, both architect and Thomas (the director) emphasize that most important, this building is educational, and it’s shape is therefore the most practical and functional for student needs.
Whatever the reason, all agree that this building is unquestionably better than the two parking garages that sat on the lot before. The bottom line is that having a building by Frank Gehry on Miami Beach will benefit the students who currently practice in a very overcrowded, rundown building and definitely help this tourist island.
Yes, generally all buildings are compromises between the architect’s vision, the users’ needs, and the financer’s wants, but this particular project seems to embody this struggle (not in a good way). It is part-boring/forgettable (so far) and then part just unappealing.
I’ve past this building everyday I’m in Miami Beach (which is a lot). The first few months, I didn’t actually take notice of it and then when I realized that the architect was Frank Gehry, it confused me. As construction continues, I keep thinking, “is that really supposed to be like that?” But after looking at the exterior renderings and building under construction, it does look like it’s supposed to.
---------------------------------------------------
Hegedus-Garcia, Ines. "Frank Gehry vs Miami Beach." Miamism.com. 20 April 2009.
29 April 2010 http://www.playbillarts.com/news/article/6156.html.
James. "New World Symphony Designed by Frank Gehry: A Transitional Piece?" Critque This! US.
18 September 2009. 29 April 2010 <http://www.critiquethis.us/2009/09/18/new-world-symphony- designed-by-frank-gehry-a-transitional-piece/.
Westphal, Matthew. "Photo Journal: Frank Gehry's Design for New World Symphony's New Hall."
Playbill Arts. 13 March 2010. 29 April 2010 http://www.playbillarts.com/news/article/6156.html.
buried in my head
One part of Dirt made me want to tell William Bryant Logan to read Anastasia and the Ringing Cedar Series, if he hadn’t already. I started to google his name to find some email address, but eventually gave up.
When William Bryant Logan talked about the use of fish heads on soil (properly, by native Americans and improperly, by colonists/settlers) I thought about the fish gut water I sprinkled on the organic garden at my sister’s house.
The part about worms made me think of many little moments. One was when I tried to keep a rolly-polly as a pet at school. I also thought of the earthworms that I’d buy at Devil’s Lake in North Dakota when I’d go fishing with Papa Jim (my grandfather). I fearlessly speared those wiggly things over and over on the hook.
When Logan talked about making soil, and the worms (bugs) would come, I thought about the composting I started on the back deck. I haven’t checked on it in a while, but it definitely had been crawling with critters by the time the bin was almost filled up. For some reason, I thought this was a bad thing, the life…like they were messing up the composting process somehow. And then I pictured myself smashing the eggshells smaller or throwing the avocado and banana peels in the blender to make it easier for breakdown/digestion.
My mind thought about AP Environmental Science with Mrs. Lawson my freshman year in high school. I learned all about the soil horizons, their order, type, color, size, etc. Now, all I have left is that horizons A, B, and R exist.
Rammed-earth architecture. You can sometimes distinguish layers (depending on how the maker wants the wall to look) but they are unlike soil horizons. They don’t breath with life. Water must seep and break them down. I wonder how the bench in the UT courtyard is doing. It’s corners were crumbling before I left. I want to build a space created by walls with horizons. Probably glass or plastic would sandwich it (it’s all I can come up with this second / picture in my head)-- like the jars we fill with layers of colored sand. And maybe a gopher could live in the wall, if it was topless. I could watch him make tunnels, and the dirt mounds he’d create at the top would overflow. Dirt would fall over the glass, making it dirty.
When William Bryant Logan talked about the use of fish heads on soil (properly, by native Americans and improperly, by colonists/settlers) I thought about the fish gut water I sprinkled on the organic garden at my sister’s house.
The part about worms made me think of many little moments. One was when I tried to keep a rolly-polly as a pet at school. I also thought of the earthworms that I’d buy at Devil’s Lake in North Dakota when I’d go fishing with Papa Jim (my grandfather). I fearlessly speared those wiggly things over and over on the hook.
When Logan talked about making soil, and the worms (bugs) would come, I thought about the composting I started on the back deck. I haven’t checked on it in a while, but it definitely had been crawling with critters by the time the bin was almost filled up. For some reason, I thought this was a bad thing, the life…like they were messing up the composting process somehow. And then I pictured myself smashing the eggshells smaller or throwing the avocado and banana peels in the blender to make it easier for breakdown/digestion.
My mind thought about AP Environmental Science with Mrs. Lawson my freshman year in high school. I learned all about the soil horizons, their order, type, color, size, etc. Now, all I have left is that horizons A, B, and R exist.
Rammed-earth architecture. You can sometimes distinguish layers (depending on how the maker wants the wall to look) but they are unlike soil horizons. They don’t breath with life. Water must seep and break them down. I wonder how the bench in the UT courtyard is doing. It’s corners were crumbling before I left. I want to build a space created by walls with horizons. Probably glass or plastic would sandwich it (it’s all I can come up with this second / picture in my head)-- like the jars we fill with layers of colored sand. And maybe a gopher could live in the wall, if it was topless. I could watch him make tunnels, and the dirt mounds he’d create at the top would overflow. Dirt would fall over the glass, making it dirty.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Remebrances
SAINT PHOCAS AS FERTILIZER was the section where I began liking Dirt.
It has whimsy tied with science. I was a whimsical little girl with a whimsical childhood. So the legend of the soldiers searching for Phocas and staying with him and all that worked with my mind. But then I love that William Bryant Logan then tells the rest of it, breaking down the break down of Phocas's body scientifically.
"But Phocas led them to the hole he'd dug in the garden, and there, with his consent, they chopped his head off. [...]
"And we must imagine Phocas's simple and hospitable soul, which took such care to return to the garden the body that had taken sustenance from it.
"The fungi colonized it first, hydrolyzing the tissues without disturbing the form. Then the white worms and the maggots and the mites took over, breaking off larger chunks, ingesting these, themselves defecating and dying. And this increasingly diverse pile of remains was attacked by wave after wave of further bacteria and fungi, until at last Phocas's mortal part had been completely oxidized."(Logan, pp.18-19)
Maybe movies have influenced me too much, but I envision those scenes in those movies that show everything, like germination, growth, flowering, erosion, etc. all hyper fast with heavy sound effects, like if you were listening to a stethoscope of the process, and the lighting/contrast is indulgently saturated. The cover of the copy of Dirt I have could be a still frame in one of these movies. (I'm just putting a copy of the cover in this post, but, as soon as I have an available photoshop, will revise the picture still-frame style!)
Just the smooth transition from fantasy to reality resonated with me. Maybe because that paralells transitions in my life. There is a beauty and briskness in how he talks about it. I relish how something rather grotesque, like chopping off this guys head, without real reason or emotion, is beautiful and poetic. Like Pan's Labrynth or Gabriel Gárcia Márquez's lyrics.
“What matters in life is not what happens to you but what you remember and how you remember it.” --
"If you want to be remembered, give yourself away."
(Márquez and Logan)
It has whimsy tied with science. I was a whimsical little girl with a whimsical childhood. So the legend of the soldiers searching for Phocas and staying with him and all that worked with my mind. But then I love that William Bryant Logan then tells the rest of it, breaking down the break down of Phocas's body scientifically.
"But Phocas led them to the hole he'd dug in the garden, and there, with his consent, they chopped his head off. [...]
"And we must imagine Phocas's simple and hospitable soul, which took such care to return to the garden the body that had taken sustenance from it.
"The fungi colonized it first, hydrolyzing the tissues without disturbing the form. Then the white worms and the maggots and the mites took over, breaking off larger chunks, ingesting these, themselves defecating and dying. And this increasingly diverse pile of remains was attacked by wave after wave of further bacteria and fungi, until at last Phocas's mortal part had been completely oxidized."(Logan, pp.18-19)
Maybe movies have influenced me too much, but I envision those scenes in those movies that show everything, like germination, growth, flowering, erosion, etc. all hyper fast with heavy sound effects, like if you were listening to a stethoscope of the process, and the lighting/contrast is indulgently saturated. The cover of the copy of Dirt I have could be a still frame in one of these movies. (I'm just putting a copy of the cover in this post, but, as soon as I have an available photoshop, will revise the picture still-frame style!)
Just the smooth transition from fantasy to reality resonated with me. Maybe because that paralells transitions in my life. There is a beauty and briskness in how he talks about it. I relish how something rather grotesque, like chopping off this guys head, without real reason or emotion, is beautiful and poetic. Like Pan's Labrynth or Gabriel Gárcia Márquez's lyrics.
“What matters in life is not what happens to you but what you remember and how you remember it.” --
"If you want to be remembered, give yourself away."
(Márquez and Logan)
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Dirt-y Thoughts
"Were we not so uncomfortable with sexual organs the study of mammalian penises would delight us. [...]
"A human penis is blunt and simple compared to those of other mammals. Of course, the fact that ours are not withdrawn safely into a sheath 'when not in use' (as one dictionary delicately puts it) puts a premium on implicitly and smoothness. An opossum, on the other hand, sports a two-petaled penis that looks like a dolphin's open mouth. [...]" (Logan, p.83)
I, like a middle-schooler, found this little paragraph delightfully scandalous. I even took the time to text it to my boyfriend just now, chuckling to myself about it's validity in a book about Dirt in a course about Architectural Theory. I wasn't going to blog about it for this reason and then decided that if this is what caught my attention and intrigued me, then I should explore it. Screw inappropriateness, awkwardness, and hesitation.
In my middle school, sexual education was taught by my science teacher Mr. Parlier. He sweat profusely and had a disproportionate belly and white, white hair. He had no tolerance for immaturity. So when he thrust his pelvis forward, indicating with sweaty arms where the female fallopian tubes are located on his figure...I, apparently, was immature. I did 'the eyes.' He told me he was giving me a detention and asked if I had knew what I had done. (I had a detention free record, detentions terrified me because they labeled me a 'rebel' and it was proof that I hadn't done everything right.) I said I hadn't known, he told me I did 'the eyes,' and I said I didn't know what 'the eyes' were. With this, he asked fellow sixth-grader Sarah if she could tell me about 'the eyes' and she told him she didn't known either. He looked at me, darted his eyes, raised his eyebrows a couple times at me and nodded his head in satisfaction.
I suppose when he had started the lesson, I had searched for, with my eyes, some sort of camaraderie in the awkwardness and absurdity of the class (him teaching this lesson to us). When you are in middle school and are taught sexual education, there is this crazy emphasis on 'maturity,' something apparently non-existent in someone looking around/giggling/smiling/squirming. As if, ten years later as a 'grown-up,’ after actually using/touching our sexual organs for things like sex and pleasure (not procreation yet!), I've 'matured.' I'd still get a detention.
I go back and forth on my feelings about my body and how I, and others, should treat it and understand it. My body is 'holey.' in the sense that literally, there are holes, and humans, according to Logan, have an immense curiosity/sense of discovery associated with them. The implications and correlations with gardening that he talked about are soooo appropriate...my body is like an erotic garden. My body is also 'holy,' (I couldn't resist!) in the sense that it is sacred and divine. It's a temple, my space of prayer. My body is a perfect tool for everything I want to do, I'm just learning how to wield it most efficiently and appropriately. It is art, science, genius--ahhh, etc. etc. These ideas and feelings about my body constantly rotate and flip-flop, super fast. It is the embodiment of my existence, the threshold between ego/all non-visible worlds and the real/physical world. What happens physically in my life has a profound effect on how I take in and process everything going on, how could it not? And how much control (if any?) do I have over these flip-flops and rotations of feelings?...which brings me to the next Logan quote, a couple paragraphs later in the chapter:
"Indeed, the pull of the moon exerts a far more obvious effect upon a woman than a man. Menstruation provides an exquisitely sensitive organic calendar. [...]"
This doesn't seem far-fetched, it seems true. But for some reason I never really thought about it. My body, beyond my control or understanding, is functioning within the world.
A woman's period is this weird thing because it is like this underground body calendar. I think most women can acknowledge that being around other women adjusts their own cycle. It's like grandfather clocks; if the clocks are all in the same space, eventually the ticks and tocks will be synched.
We've developed crazy precise measurements to ensure that every second, by definition, is the exact same length as every other second; that minutes and hours never change. But this hyper control over our own time we then have to amend and align with solar, planetary, lunar times...because these flex. We understand that despite our controlled and consistent system, the flexible one is more important and more accurate. So we come up with precise and exacting ways to adjust and amend ours. We calculate our own hiccups.
"The civilized man has built a coach, but has lost the use of his feet. He is supported on crutches, but lacks so much support of muscle. He has a fine Geneva watch, but he fails of the skill to tell the hour by the sun. A Greenwich nautical almanac he has, and so being sure of the information when he wants it, the man in the street does not know a star in the sky. The solstice he does not observe; the equinox he knows as little; and the whole bright calendar of the year is without a dial in his mind." - Emerson, from Self-Reliance
I build up this nostalgia for classic and mystical knowledge of the world. I go about accepting things I don't understand or don't make sense to me with as much confidence and assurance as I do with the things that I do understand and do make sense. I accept a large level of mystery or faith. Maybe I think those things are beyond comprehension, or maybe I'm just scared to explore them deeper with my own mind, or, just maybe I let little things get in the way of all the bigger things going on around me because they are more immediate, in my face...it's easier.
"A human penis is blunt and simple compared to those of other mammals. Of course, the fact that ours are not withdrawn safely into a sheath 'when not in use' (as one dictionary delicately puts it) puts a premium on implicitly and smoothness. An opossum, on the other hand, sports a two-petaled penis that looks like a dolphin's open mouth. [...]" (Logan, p.83)
I, like a middle-schooler, found this little paragraph delightfully scandalous. I even took the time to text it to my boyfriend just now, chuckling to myself about it's validity in a book about Dirt in a course about Architectural Theory. I wasn't going to blog about it for this reason and then decided that if this is what caught my attention and intrigued me, then I should explore it. Screw inappropriateness, awkwardness, and hesitation.
In my middle school, sexual education was taught by my science teacher Mr. Parlier. He sweat profusely and had a disproportionate belly and white, white hair. He had no tolerance for immaturity. So when he thrust his pelvis forward, indicating with sweaty arms where the female fallopian tubes are located on his figure...I, apparently, was immature. I did 'the eyes.' He told me he was giving me a detention and asked if I had knew what I had done. (I had a detention free record, detentions terrified me because they labeled me a 'rebel' and it was proof that I hadn't done everything right.) I said I hadn't known, he told me I did 'the eyes,' and I said I didn't know what 'the eyes' were. With this, he asked fellow sixth-grader Sarah if she could tell me about 'the eyes' and she told him she didn't known either. He looked at me, darted his eyes, raised his eyebrows a couple times at me and nodded his head in satisfaction.
I suppose when he had started the lesson, I had searched for, with my eyes, some sort of camaraderie in the awkwardness and absurdity of the class (him teaching this lesson to us). When you are in middle school and are taught sexual education, there is this crazy emphasis on 'maturity,' something apparently non-existent in someone looking around/giggling/smiling/squirming. As if, ten years later as a 'grown-up,’ after actually using/touching our sexual organs for things like sex and pleasure (not procreation yet!), I've 'matured.' I'd still get a detention.
I go back and forth on my feelings about my body and how I, and others, should treat it and understand it. My body is 'holey.' in the sense that literally, there are holes, and humans, according to Logan, have an immense curiosity/sense of discovery associated with them. The implications and correlations with gardening that he talked about are soooo appropriate...my body is like an erotic garden. My body is also 'holy,' (I couldn't resist!) in the sense that it is sacred and divine. It's a temple, my space of prayer. My body is a perfect tool for everything I want to do, I'm just learning how to wield it most efficiently and appropriately. It is art, science, genius--ahhh, etc. etc. These ideas and feelings about my body constantly rotate and flip-flop, super fast. It is the embodiment of my existence, the threshold between ego/all non-visible worlds and the real/physical world. What happens physically in my life has a profound effect on how I take in and process everything going on, how could it not? And how much control (if any?) do I have over these flip-flops and rotations of feelings?...which brings me to the next Logan quote, a couple paragraphs later in the chapter:
"Indeed, the pull of the moon exerts a far more obvious effect upon a woman than a man. Menstruation provides an exquisitely sensitive organic calendar. [...]"
This doesn't seem far-fetched, it seems true. But for some reason I never really thought about it. My body, beyond my control or understanding, is functioning within the world.
A woman's period is this weird thing because it is like this underground body calendar. I think most women can acknowledge that being around other women adjusts their own cycle. It's like grandfather clocks; if the clocks are all in the same space, eventually the ticks and tocks will be synched.
We've developed crazy precise measurements to ensure that every second, by definition, is the exact same length as every other second; that minutes and hours never change. But this hyper control over our own time we then have to amend and align with solar, planetary, lunar times...because these flex. We understand that despite our controlled and consistent system, the flexible one is more important and more accurate. So we come up with precise and exacting ways to adjust and amend ours. We calculate our own hiccups.
"The civilized man has built a coach, but has lost the use of his feet. He is supported on crutches, but lacks so much support of muscle. He has a fine Geneva watch, but he fails of the skill to tell the hour by the sun. A Greenwich nautical almanac he has, and so being sure of the information when he wants it, the man in the street does not know a star in the sky. The solstice he does not observe; the equinox he knows as little; and the whole bright calendar of the year is without a dial in his mind." - Emerson, from Self-Reliance
I build up this nostalgia for classic and mystical knowledge of the world. I go about accepting things I don't understand or don't make sense to me with as much confidence and assurance as I do with the things that I do understand and do make sense. I accept a large level of mystery or faith. Maybe I think those things are beyond comprehension, or maybe I'm just scared to explore them deeper with my own mind, or, just maybe I let little things get in the way of all the bigger things going on around me because they are more immediate, in my face...it's easier.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Holocaust Memorial
The Holocaust Memorial was designed by Kenneth Treister, a Jewish sculptor and architect in Miami Beach. It opened to the public in 1990.
I walked over to the Memorial from the Botanical Gardens following the signs through the parking lot. The first thing I came to was a little grid of trees. It reminded me of the entrance to the Kimbell Art Museum in Fort Worth, only smaller and cleaner because there was pavement on the ground. A woman, very enthusiastic about the memorial, came to me and was excited to explain that the stone was from Jerusalem. She talked and walked me to a group of high schoolers that were listening to a holocaust survivor explain his story, pointing to the images etched into a curving black marble as he went along.
I joined the group and didn’t fit in at all. I had just come from my modeling agency, so I was in a small, tight slip dress and full makeup, feeling fully conscious of my, uh, somewhat suggestive/sexy look. It bothered me that I kept thinking these kids were judging me and forming opinions about me based on what I was wearing. I didn’t quite know how to be, but my discomfort didn’t deter me from listening to the old man talk about his liberation (on my birthday, April 11th).
The procession was a beautiful space. The water reflected on one side and the curving black marble wall on the other. It immediately reminded me of the iconic black marble wall at the Vietnam Memorial in Washington D.C. A wooden trellis provided shade and a play of light, sitting overgrown with vines supported between greek-style columns on one side and the wall on the other.
The middle of the path is marked by a circular dome; a choir of children singing in Hebrew reverberates. From this dome, another pathway guides a visitor to the main sculpture, on a sort-of island in the middle of the water. The perspective on this pathway is exaggerated, the walls cut in, ceiling and floors slope down; narrow, angled slits in the stone create sharp, slashes of light.
The main focus of the memorial is a giant bronze hand with people in anguish, pain, hurt, etc. coming out of the base and spilling out onto the ground. This sculpted and sits in the center of a circular space, surrounded by the same reflective black granite. This time, instead of the granite telling a story with photos and facts, the words printed are just names of those who have died. About a little more than half the marble panels are filled with names. (Again, I couldn’t help but think the architect was influenced by the Vietnam Memorial).
You leave the space the same way you came, through the corridor with haunted children singing to the dome, then continue on the original pathway, finishing the circle you had started around the water under the trellis, along the marble wall.
After walking the whole memorial, I decided I’d sit in and watch the DVD on the creation of the memorial with the high schoolers, so I could better blog about the experience. I shouldn’t have bothered. The DVD was so bad, I walked out early and tried to shake it off. The narrator used too many adjectives and it focused only on the sculpture, which I found to be the least creative/intriguing/meaningful part of the entire memorial. It’s just that I think the architect did do some good moves in the space, and then I’m watching the DVD rolling my eyes, second guessing and doubting my good experience, since the film made it sound gimmicky and tacky.
It’s amazing how much influence other people’s thoughts/words/ideas have over my experience and comprehension of a place. In this case, the memorial seemed less powerful when I listened to the architect talk about it. Most of the time however, I buy right into reviews and praise and what places were ‘meant’ to convey; I need to step up my self-trust and gut feelings about places before I let other people form my opinions for me!
“It is easy in the world to live after the world’s opinion; it is easy in solitude to live after our own; but the great man is he who in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude.” – Emerson, 1841 “Self Reliance”
I walked over to the Memorial from the Botanical Gardens following the signs through the parking lot. The first thing I came to was a little grid of trees. It reminded me of the entrance to the Kimbell Art Museum in Fort Worth, only smaller and cleaner because there was pavement on the ground. A woman, very enthusiastic about the memorial, came to me and was excited to explain that the stone was from Jerusalem. She talked and walked me to a group of high schoolers that were listening to a holocaust survivor explain his story, pointing to the images etched into a curving black marble as he went along.
I joined the group and didn’t fit in at all. I had just come from my modeling agency, so I was in a small, tight slip dress and full makeup, feeling fully conscious of my, uh, somewhat suggestive/sexy look. It bothered me that I kept thinking these kids were judging me and forming opinions about me based on what I was wearing. I didn’t quite know how to be, but my discomfort didn’t deter me from listening to the old man talk about his liberation (on my birthday, April 11th).
The procession was a beautiful space. The water reflected on one side and the curving black marble wall on the other. It immediately reminded me of the iconic black marble wall at the Vietnam Memorial in Washington D.C. A wooden trellis provided shade and a play of light, sitting overgrown with vines supported between greek-style columns on one side and the wall on the other.
The middle of the path is marked by a circular dome; a choir of children singing in Hebrew reverberates. From this dome, another pathway guides a visitor to the main sculpture, on a sort-of island in the middle of the water. The perspective on this pathway is exaggerated, the walls cut in, ceiling and floors slope down; narrow, angled slits in the stone create sharp, slashes of light.
The main focus of the memorial is a giant bronze hand with people in anguish, pain, hurt, etc. coming out of the base and spilling out onto the ground. This sculpted and sits in the center of a circular space, surrounded by the same reflective black granite. This time, instead of the granite telling a story with photos and facts, the words printed are just names of those who have died. About a little more than half the marble panels are filled with names. (Again, I couldn’t help but think the architect was influenced by the Vietnam Memorial).
You leave the space the same way you came, through the corridor with haunted children singing to the dome, then continue on the original pathway, finishing the circle you had started around the water under the trellis, along the marble wall.
After walking the whole memorial, I decided I’d sit in and watch the DVD on the creation of the memorial with the high schoolers, so I could better blog about the experience. I shouldn’t have bothered. The DVD was so bad, I walked out early and tried to shake it off. The narrator used too many adjectives and it focused only on the sculpture, which I found to be the least creative/intriguing/meaningful part of the entire memorial. It’s just that I think the architect did do some good moves in the space, and then I’m watching the DVD rolling my eyes, second guessing and doubting my good experience, since the film made it sound gimmicky and tacky.
It’s amazing how much influence other people’s thoughts/words/ideas have over my experience and comprehension of a place. In this case, the memorial seemed less powerful when I listened to the architect talk about it. Most of the time however, I buy right into reviews and praise and what places were ‘meant’ to convey; I need to step up my self-trust and gut feelings about places before I let other people form my opinions for me!
“It is easy in the world to live after the world’s opinion; it is easy in solitude to live after our own; but the great man is he who in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude.” – Emerson, 1841 “Self Reliance”
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Miami Beach Botanical Gardens
It's strange how gardens are staged. I sat in on one of those round table lunch lectures at UT by a professor specializing in historical European landscapes and gardens (I don't remember her name) and all evidence and discussion was about the symmetry and strict organization of them.
“Man is all symmetry,
Full of proportions, one limb to another,
And all to all the world besides.
Each part may call the farthest, brother;
For head with foot hath privat amity,
And both with moons and tides.”
Geroge Herbert, 1633. Stanza 1 of “Man.”
The gardens of vast estates, kept pristine; women would 'take turns' about the garden.
From the patio/porch/terrace space behind the house, one could see the whole garden as a sort of middle ground between civilization (architecture, living indoors) and wilderness. These gardens did not try to mimic nature, that was not their purpose.
I don't remember where I examined Asian gardens however. It may have been at this lunch lecture, but I somehow feel like it was elsewhere. Anyway, these gardens were designed in a different way. Some sought to mimic nature in a way...as if to bring all these small, precious moments and views one experiences in nature into one, idealized perfect view. The end result would be that the explorer would be in awe of natural beauty, perhaps not knowing it had actually been staged that way.
Botanical Gardens are unmistakably staged. I walked in through the gates and met a mounted map that labeled the different lands and physical features. The fountain at this entrance was name for Morris Lapidus; this fact made me smile.
There were big bright heads in small manicured lawns if you took the path to the right. Smallish-women’s figures, made of metal, were posed here and there.
The structure in the middle was a breezeway, with orchid and vegetable green house gardens on one side. The other side had an interior gathering space for weddings and things like that.
This corridor lead straight into another procession, marked by large, stone things that weren’t quite columns. I liked where this was going and wondered where it was taking me. Then bam! On the left, a magnificent stone bench. It was serious, heavy, textury. No sooner did I sit on the bench (with complete disregard to any level of comfort it may or may not have possessed) I spotted another colorful super head. It had a plant coming out of it; it was red. Up close and isolated from the other garden heads, this one had a different, new attitude.
….But wait, I was in a procession, going towards something. So I stepped back into the path and made my way. No more fun distractions. It actually lead to nothing really, just a green field. I could see this from the beginning, but somehow I thought upon arrival there would be more. Something to catch my eye that I couldn’t have seen until I got there. Maybe it was for weddings and things like that.
A Japanese garden was hidden in the botanical gardens too. It including everything a Japanese garden should include: bright red wooden bridge, slate-grey river stones, grated sand, bamboo, and bonsais.
Maybe the garden was trying too hard. So what. It was absolutely lovely and a refreshing break from my painful, tired bike ride. It can pretend to be a place of discovery with its small, meandering pathways and ‘hidden’ moments if it wants to be because I’ll play along.
“Man is all symmetry,
Full of proportions, one limb to another,
And all to all the world besides.
Each part may call the farthest, brother;
For head with foot hath privat amity,
And both with moons and tides.”
Geroge Herbert, 1633. Stanza 1 of “Man.”
The gardens of vast estates, kept pristine; women would 'take turns' about the garden.
From the patio/porch/terrace space behind the house, one could see the whole garden as a sort of middle ground between civilization (architecture, living indoors) and wilderness. These gardens did not try to mimic nature, that was not their purpose.
I don't remember where I examined Asian gardens however. It may have been at this lunch lecture, but I somehow feel like it was elsewhere. Anyway, these gardens were designed in a different way. Some sought to mimic nature in a way...as if to bring all these small, precious moments and views one experiences in nature into one, idealized perfect view. The end result would be that the explorer would be in awe of natural beauty, perhaps not knowing it had actually been staged that way.
Botanical Gardens are unmistakably staged. I walked in through the gates and met a mounted map that labeled the different lands and physical features. The fountain at this entrance was name for Morris Lapidus; this fact made me smile.
There were big bright heads in small manicured lawns if you took the path to the right. Smallish-women’s figures, made of metal, were posed here and there.
The structure in the middle was a breezeway, with orchid and vegetable green house gardens on one side. The other side had an interior gathering space for weddings and things like that.
This corridor lead straight into another procession, marked by large, stone things that weren’t quite columns. I liked where this was going and wondered where it was taking me. Then bam! On the left, a magnificent stone bench. It was serious, heavy, textury. No sooner did I sit on the bench (with complete disregard to any level of comfort it may or may not have possessed) I spotted another colorful super head. It had a plant coming out of it; it was red. Up close and isolated from the other garden heads, this one had a different, new attitude.
….But wait, I was in a procession, going towards something. So I stepped back into the path and made my way. No more fun distractions. It actually lead to nothing really, just a green field. I could see this from the beginning, but somehow I thought upon arrival there would be more. Something to catch my eye that I couldn’t have seen until I got there. Maybe it was for weddings and things like that.
A Japanese garden was hidden in the botanical gardens too. It including everything a Japanese garden should include: bright red wooden bridge, slate-grey river stones, grated sand, bamboo, and bonsais.
Maybe the garden was trying too hard. So what. It was absolutely lovely and a refreshing break from my painful, tired bike ride. It can pretend to be a place of discovery with its small, meandering pathways and ‘hidden’ moments if it wants to be because I’ll play along.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)