I’m reading a book about a guy who built a space to think and write and work. I walked into Starbucks, ordered my tea, and sat down at a small duce to do just that.
There was this older, blonde woman saying goodbye to a couple. She stayed seated. They were loud, and were wrapping up a commiseration conversation about Obama and poor immigrants stealing their hard-earned money. As I got my computer ready, the woman looked my way and sort-of stated a general statement, to know one in particular but for anyone to respond, about the same thing. I didn’t respond. This young guy did. ‘What can you do? It doesn’t help to complain about it if it doesn’t do anything.’ I looked at him sympathetically as he sat down. What was he thinking?
This young guy and this old woman argued, mildly, about politics. They moved on to her cancer history and his recent-grad status. They talked about plans and lack of friends. (His because he just moved here, hers, well, I’d assume because of the way she is). She said she had a beautiful boat. Once, some people she took out on her boat later wrote her a letter afterwards saying that had been the best day of their lives. She asked for his cell number and told him she’d take him out on her boat. They walked out together.
I couldn’t work with while listening. I couldn’t not listen.
Then a little girl and her mom walked in. She climbed in the loud woman’s seat. She wore a hoodie with a magic pocket. I wouldn’t have guessed it was magic but she told me it was. And sure enough, she pulled a zoo out: A lion, a tiger, a rhino, an antelope, three elephants, and a giant horse. Definitely magic. The lion was the leader. The antelope had to ride on the horse’s back because it was too weak.
She went on to tell me that she went to the circus that day, but that there were no animals! (Maybe because she had them all). Her favorite part was at the end, there were two magic brothers that did all these tricks together. She buried her head in the chair while saying she thought they were handsome. She giggled. She blushed. Her mom blushed too.
Coffee shops are weird. I never sat in them till college when I started to go to them as a change of scenery to work and study. I began drinking tea as an adaptation to pay for my space. What happens is I bring my headphones and all my study stuff to go isolate myself in a public place. And everyone practically did that in Austin, a whole coffee shop full of people where you no one talks. A room full of loners. Privacy in public.
Here, that isn’t the case. Which is a relief. People go to them to talk. Politics, cancer, boats, animals, magic. The stuff spills out when people open their mouths for more than a sip.
It’s not the idealized, picturesque, hyper-isolated space in ‘A Place of My Own.’ But it does provoke thought (in me). Nothing in this post is particularly poignant or inspirational, but for some reason, it stuck with me and inspired something in me.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Friday, March 26, 2010
More Webs.
I marked this part of Outside Lies Magic a while ago:
"[...] trolley companies erected mazes of supply support, and pull-off wires, the whole arrangement that made up what everyone knew as overhead electric catenary and threw weblike shadows over dirt roads and brick streets." (Stilgoe, p.27)
It reminded me of a sketch I did in Milan.
The trolley lines, in big intersections, were the silk threads of giant spiders. (sketch.)
But the silk was unsilky and the spiders were always in hiding. (reality).
"[...] trolley companies erected mazes of supply support, and pull-off wires, the whole arrangement that made up what everyone knew as overhead electric catenary and threw weblike shadows over dirt roads and brick streets." (Stilgoe, p.27)
It reminded me of a sketch I did in Milan.
But the silk was unsilky and the spiders were always in hiding. (reality).
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Bacardi Building, Downtown Miami
I was disoriented in downtown Miami, trying to make my way back to the highway, familiar territory. I passed this building and passed it again, parked, got out of my car, explored, photographed, and admired. There was someone else that was doing the exact same thing. This was probably two months ago. It's been on my mind.
So the Bacardi Building is actually two buildings and a public plaza. It is an example of Miami Modern, a combination of international style and Latin/Caribbean/tropical design. It's located at the corner of Biscayne Boulevard and 21st Street. (Mizrahi). Now I actually know how to find my way back!
The first building was a tower built in 1963 by Puerto Rican architect Enrique Gutierrez of Sacmag International. It's an eight story tower housing the Bacardi Museum on the first level, a dining room on the top level, and office space on the floors in between. Twenty-eight thousand white and blue hand-painted 6" x 6" ceramic tiles cover the north and south facades in a Spanish style mural by Brazilian artist Francisco Brennand. The west and east facades are made up of thermopane, smoke-tinted glazing and are articulated by vertical white marble tiles and exposed structural concrete. (Kunkel).
The second building is a two-storey square cantilevered 24 feet on all sides off a central core, 47 feet off the ground. It was designed by architect Ignacio Carrera-Justiz from Coral Gables, Florida and built in 1973 to house the finance and accounting offices. Constructed to withstand hurricane force winds, the walls are made of one inch thick hammered glass tiles composed in beautiful tapestries designed by French manufacturers/artists Gabriel and Jacques Loire after an original painting by German artist Johannes M. Dietz.
Each floor is hung from the roof by 28 tensor rods, supported at the center by the concrete-reinforced central core. The load on each tensor is transferred to the roof in which a crisscross system of post tension beams carry the load from the tensor rods through the central core, plaza and garage, to the foundation. (Kunkel).
....................................................
The cantilevered building is originally what caught my attention, but then when I began to explore the entire site, I really became interested to know more. The online sites do a fine job of giving enough practical details, but there are so many little things that make this particular site wonderful. I think they don't give the plinth enough credit. Yes, practically, a garage sits under it; but raising the entire site up gives everything a completely different feeling, a sense of serenity and proof that yes, it holds something more valuable than the surroundings almost. I immediately think of the plinth at the Taj Mahal, it makes a great building into something sacred.
Also, the floating, symmetrical stair cases that lead to the first level in the tower seem to weigh nothing, as if someone would glide up them into the building.
I'm unfamiliar with 'MIMO,' (Miami Modern design) because I've only thought of Miami as an ode to art deco. But this building is distinctly Miami: which is kind of incredible when you think about it's international style skeleton by American and Puerto Rican architects covered in tiled surfaces by French and Brazilian designers based on German and Spanish art.
Pretty cool, huh?
................................................
These buildings seemed to be unoccupied when I found them. The stairs leading up to the elevated plaza were blocked off with chains and small signs warning against trespassing. I called an online number provided to inquire about public tours. The woman on the other end of the line told me that they no longer hold tours because Bacardi headquarters relocated in November 2009 to a new site in Coral Gables. There is only a security guard and maintenance.
...It makes sense that the Bacardi's would have such wonderful USA headquarters when I read that the other Bacardi buildings in Mexico and Bermuda were commissioned by Mies van der Rohe. Obviously, this family valued good architecture and supported international design. (Kunkel).
_____________________________________
Works Cited:
Kunkel, Joe. "A Proud Symbol of Latin Modernism." Jetset - Designs for Modern Living. 2000. 23 March 2010 http://www.jetsetmodern.com/bacardi.htm.
Mizrahi, Adam. "Historic Bacardi Building." Urban City Architecture. 7 May 2009. 23 March 2010 http://www.urbancityarch.com/2009/05/historic-bacardi-building/.
So the Bacardi Building is actually two buildings and a public plaza. It is an example of Miami Modern, a combination of international style and Latin/Caribbean/tropical design. It's located at the corner of Biscayne Boulevard and 21st Street. (Mizrahi). Now I actually know how to find my way back!
The first building was a tower built in 1963 by Puerto Rican architect Enrique Gutierrez of Sacmag International. It's an eight story tower housing the Bacardi Museum on the first level, a dining room on the top level, and office space on the floors in between. Twenty-eight thousand white and blue hand-painted 6" x 6" ceramic tiles cover the north and south facades in a Spanish style mural by Brazilian artist Francisco Brennand. The west and east facades are made up of thermopane, smoke-tinted glazing and are articulated by vertical white marble tiles and exposed structural concrete. (Kunkel).
....................................................
Also, the floating, symmetrical stair cases that lead to the first level in the tower seem to weigh nothing, as if someone would glide up them into the building.
I'm unfamiliar with 'MIMO,' (Miami Modern design) because I've only thought of Miami as an ode to art deco. But this building is distinctly Miami: which is kind of incredible when you think about it's international style skeleton by American and Puerto Rican architects covered in tiled surfaces by French and Brazilian designers based on German and Spanish art.
Pretty cool, huh?
................................................
These buildings seemed to be unoccupied when I found them. The stairs leading up to the elevated plaza were blocked off with chains and small signs warning against trespassing. I called an online number provided to inquire about public tours. The woman on the other end of the line told me that they no longer hold tours because Bacardi headquarters relocated in November 2009 to a new site in Coral Gables. There is only a security guard and maintenance.
...It makes sense that the Bacardi's would have such wonderful USA headquarters when I read that the other Bacardi buildings in Mexico and Bermuda were commissioned by Mies van der Rohe. Obviously, this family valued good architecture and supported international design. (Kunkel).
_____________________________________
Works Cited:
Kunkel, Joe. "A Proud Symbol of Latin Modernism." Jetset - Designs for Modern Living. 2000. 23 March 2010 http://www.jetsetmodern.com/bacardi.htm.
Mizrahi, Adam. "Historic Bacardi Building." Urban City Architecture. 7 May 2009. 23 March 2010 http://www.urbancityarch.com/2009/05/historic-bacardi-building/.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Sabrinaland! Ah, the joy of Thought!
Flatland: A Romance of Many Dimensions by A. Square whisked me away. I want to think outside the box about everything. This book just makes me think that everything I know, on some level, is a box. So as much as I want to escape my box, there is perhaps only a bigger box or a different derivative of a box-based thing that I'd escape into. If that makes sense. There are so many overlapping and reoccurring themes and ideas in these shapes that I can't help but savor them and hopefully continue to understand, and apply them to Sabrinaland.
There is Flatland, from the perspective of A. Square that has experienced Spaceland. He dreamt of Lineland and witnessed Pointland and yearned for a fourth dimension...a more spacious Spaceland.
Soliloquy from Pointland, the Abyss of No Dimensions:
"Infinite beatitude of existence! It is; and there is none else beside It. [...] It fills all space, and that It fills, It is. what It thinks, that It utters; and what It utters, that It hears; and It itself is Thinker, Utterer, Hearer Thought, Word, Audition; it is the One, and yet the All in All. Ah, the happiness, ah, the happiness of Being!"
[A. Square attempted to enlighten the little point that other worlds existed. He spoke to him and said two points make a line.]
"Ah, the joy, and the joy of Thought! What can It not achieve by thinking! Its own Thought coming to Itself, suggestive of Its disparagement, thereby to enhance Its happiness! Sweet rebellion stirred up to result in triumph! Ah, the divine creative power of the All in One! Ah, the joy, the joy of Being!"
God of Pointland cannot conceive plurality, so therefore he understands A.Square's words for his own thought.
This passage, like so many other parts and details and ideas in Flatland are super intriguing to me. I finished the book and find myself recalling all these details in it, analogies and critiques upon society. One of the underlying notions is how to convince people of something that is not within their relm of thought, or limits. I definitely consider myself open, but open within reason is probably more accurate. It's like A. Square crystallizes his concept by literally pointing out the pointlessness of it all, when he introduces Pointland/God of Pointland.
.............................................................
Academically, I am open to changing my mind and being convinced of ideas/concepts/thoughts because I understand myself to be a student, one who is constantly open to learning more. I have an acknowledgement that I am not an authority in these things, so to speak. This actually kind of applies to all concrete, 'learnable' things like sports or cooking or accounting. That's it.
But when it comes to feelings and emotions and perspectives on situations, I am realizing I am a lot more closed than I thought. I don't really grant authority to others in this matter and find that I do always have to be right in a situation, especially one that I'm involved in. Doesn't everyone think they are right, or what's the point?
Stuff is grey. Often times there is no explicit winning, but just an acknowledgement that you communicated your 'point' and it is understood as that, 'a point.' You have 'a point.' And then I read Flatland, and wonder how often, in how many ways, I am a Point. God of Pointland, the abyss of no dimensions, incapable of really comprehending and getting someone else's 'point,' being able to escape isolation and make a line from my point to theirs.
If it's all about making points, (or that is simply the level I'm at..which is the very bottom/basic/foundation/elementary), how can I start to connect the dots? Points to Lines to Shapes to Volumes to ?...How does this work in Thoughtland, so I can just begin to comprehend the infinite potential of all the 'points' we make?
There is Flatland, from the perspective of A. Square that has experienced Spaceland. He dreamt of Lineland and witnessed Pointland and yearned for a fourth dimension...a more spacious Spaceland.
Soliloquy from Pointland, the Abyss of No Dimensions:
"Infinite beatitude of existence! It is; and there is none else beside It. [...] It fills all space, and that It fills, It is. what It thinks, that It utters; and what It utters, that It hears; and It itself is Thinker, Utterer, Hearer Thought, Word, Audition; it is the One, and yet the All in All. Ah, the happiness, ah, the happiness of Being!"
[A. Square attempted to enlighten the little point that other worlds existed. He spoke to him and said two points make a line.]
"Ah, the joy, and the joy of Thought! What can It not achieve by thinking! Its own Thought coming to Itself, suggestive of Its disparagement, thereby to enhance Its happiness! Sweet rebellion stirred up to result in triumph! Ah, the divine creative power of the All in One! Ah, the joy, the joy of Being!"
God of Pointland cannot conceive plurality, so therefore he understands A.Square's words for his own thought.
This passage, like so many other parts and details and ideas in Flatland are super intriguing to me. I finished the book and find myself recalling all these details in it, analogies and critiques upon society. One of the underlying notions is how to convince people of something that is not within their relm of thought, or limits. I definitely consider myself open, but open within reason is probably more accurate. It's like A. Square crystallizes his concept by literally pointing out the pointlessness of it all, when he introduces Pointland/God of Pointland.
.............................................................
Academically, I am open to changing my mind and being convinced of ideas/concepts/thoughts because I understand myself to be a student, one who is constantly open to learning more. I have an acknowledgement that I am not an authority in these things, so to speak. This actually kind of applies to all concrete, 'learnable' things like sports or cooking or accounting. That's it.
But when it comes to feelings and emotions and perspectives on situations, I am realizing I am a lot more closed than I thought. I don't really grant authority to others in this matter and find that I do always have to be right in a situation, especially one that I'm involved in. Doesn't everyone think they are right, or what's the point?
Stuff is grey. Often times there is no explicit winning, but just an acknowledgement that you communicated your 'point' and it is understood as that, 'a point.' You have 'a point.' And then I read Flatland, and wonder how often, in how many ways, I am a Point. God of Pointland, the abyss of no dimensions, incapable of really comprehending and getting someone else's 'point,' being able to escape isolation and make a line from my point to theirs.
If it's all about making points, (or that is simply the level I'm at..which is the very bottom/basic/foundation/elementary), how can I start to connect the dots? Points to Lines to Shapes to Volumes to ?...How does this work in Thoughtland, so I can just begin to comprehend the infinite potential of all the 'points' we make?
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
lines find alcoves
“ ‘Alcoves’: ‘To give a group a chance to be together, as a group, a room must also give them the chance to be alone, in one’s and two’s in the same space.’ […] The pattern of an alcove off a communal space (which also shows up in libraries, restaurants, and public squares) is as natural and right and self-sustaining as the patter of ripples in a patchwork of windblown sand.”
Pollan goes a little whimsical with the ‘windblown sand’ reference in A Place of My Own, but the alcoveness stuck in my head as I sit here waiting. I’m in a large convention-center-like space waiting to audition for yet another fashion show. The room is a big open space when you walk in, and there is a check-in desk to your right. After you check in though, the place is free-reign to settle wherever you’d like until you’re up to walk for the 20 glorious seconds of acceptance or rejection. This is my third day coming, I haven’t been cast (yet). Model settling patterns have been different each time. Things keep being added to the room each time too.
Day 1:
Rows of chairs were lined up ready for a runway down the middle (but empty at this point) and by the time I got here, models were in the chairs. The space where we auditioned though was parallel to this, behind one of the rows of chairs. I’ll post my sketch.
Day 2:
Way more people. It was guys too. This time, it was just a clusterfuck of everyone right at the end of the ‘runway’ space to the right of the door when you come in. (I’ll post my sketch). The chairs were randomly clustered and people stood, sat in them, and sat on the floor. A couple people chose a spot on the wall, but most stayed close to the group. Where we sat yesterday, a runway was being built. Chairs were still lined up, but no one occupied them.
Day 3:
Most girls took a seat on the floor along the wall where the door was and along the sides of the column. If there was no wall spot, they sat on the floor nearby. One small group sat by a column further off. It’s red-carpet style roped off. (Runway almost done, just the background missing.)
…………………………………………
I feel like more of an observer than participator. Modeling is all about being looked at, and I’m a looker right now. Girls meander in, sign in, and find a familiar face. There are elitist groups, the girls that act almost as if this process is a waste of their time because they know that they are going to be cast. They laugh and joke, it’s something light. There are the nervous groups. The girls that are intimidated and encourage each other, practicing off on the side, excited to have the opportunity to audition, but not truly anticipating being cast.
I’m in between, a loner. I feel like I should be here and should be cast, but fuck up at the last minute for one reason or another. I blame my lack of experience and cited that I need to just get used to the walk and what a good walk feels like. Carlitos, my roommate, nodded his head side to side with this. “No no Sabrina, (still shaking) no one ever gets used to it.” Shaking his finger. I receded said I need to get over personal excuses.
Women are lines in Flatland. The upper class women can curve their line smoothly. In my head, I picture a swimming sperm tail, or an eel or snake. There is fluidity to their movements. The lower cast women aren’t smooth, they jerk back and forth. They create corners and angles, not curves and slopes.
We are all lines here. The longer, more curvable line, the more desirable. I’m obviously missing something, I just don’t quite know what it is. So much consistent, blatant rejection is exhausting. It makes you over analyze, draw parallels, align, connect dots.
Pollan goes a little whimsical with the ‘windblown sand’ reference in A Place of My Own, but the alcoveness stuck in my head as I sit here waiting. I’m in a large convention-center-like space waiting to audition for yet another fashion show. The room is a big open space when you walk in, and there is a check-in desk to your right. After you check in though, the place is free-reign to settle wherever you’d like until you’re up to walk for the 20 glorious seconds of acceptance or rejection. This is my third day coming, I haven’t been cast (yet). Model settling patterns have been different each time. Things keep being added to the room each time too.
Day 1:
Rows of chairs were lined up ready for a runway down the middle (but empty at this point) and by the time I got here, models were in the chairs. The space where we auditioned though was parallel to this, behind one of the rows of chairs. I’ll post my sketch.
Day 2:
Way more people. It was guys too. This time, it was just a clusterfuck of everyone right at the end of the ‘runway’ space to the right of the door when you come in. (I’ll post my sketch). The chairs were randomly clustered and people stood, sat in them, and sat on the floor. A couple people chose a spot on the wall, but most stayed close to the group. Where we sat yesterday, a runway was being built. Chairs were still lined up, but no one occupied them.
Day 3:
Most girls took a seat on the floor along the wall where the door was and along the sides of the column. If there was no wall spot, they sat on the floor nearby. One small group sat by a column further off. It’s red-carpet style roped off. (Runway almost done, just the background missing.)
…………………………………………
I feel like more of an observer than participator. Modeling is all about being looked at, and I’m a looker right now. Girls meander in, sign in, and find a familiar face. There are elitist groups, the girls that act almost as if this process is a waste of their time because they know that they are going to be cast. They laugh and joke, it’s something light. There are the nervous groups. The girls that are intimidated and encourage each other, practicing off on the side, excited to have the opportunity to audition, but not truly anticipating being cast.
I’m in between, a loner. I feel like I should be here and should be cast, but fuck up at the last minute for one reason or another. I blame my lack of experience and cited that I need to just get used to the walk and what a good walk feels like. Carlitos, my roommate, nodded his head side to side with this. “No no Sabrina, (still shaking) no one ever gets used to it.” Shaking his finger. I receded said I need to get over personal excuses.
Women are lines in Flatland. The upper class women can curve their line smoothly. In my head, I picture a swimming sperm tail, or an eel or snake. There is fluidity to their movements. The lower cast women aren’t smooth, they jerk back and forth. They create corners and angles, not curves and slopes.
We are all lines here. The longer, more curvable line, the more desirable. I’m obviously missing something, I just don’t quite know what it is. So much consistent, blatant rejection is exhausting. It makes you over analyze, draw parallels, align, connect dots.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Email. Sent Mail: 'revision'
fromSabrina Rocha
toStephen Ross
dateMon, Mar 15, 2010 at 8:42 PM
subjectrevision
mailed-bygmail.com
hide details 8:42 PM (1 minute ago)
In my original proposal I wrote this:
“Through this study, I desire to incorporate my previous background and training in architecture with what I am doing now and the current path I have chosen to take in an effort to discover a new outlet and way to take everything in.”
The projects I assigned myself are not fulfilling this statement and are not what I want them to be. Simply ‘wanting’ stronger projects does nothing, I need to make it happen. The problem that I didn’t really think about and/or anticipate when I wrote this study was my access to the tools and resources to create good projects. I’m not in Austin anymore. (I’m not even in Naples anymore!)
I don’t have a studio space with pens, papers, desks, or exactos. I share a tiny studio apartment on Miami Beach lacking even the basics: desk, scotch tape, pins, pencils. No kitchen either (which makes my baking/cooking/recipe ideas out the window). I don’t have the woodshop. I don’t have the art/architecture stores in walking distance, like the Co-op or Asel or Breed’s. I don’t have a computer lab with the super fast and powerful computers with all those wonderful programs like Rhino or Adobe Suite, hooked up all those printers.
(Sigh).
I don’t even have a regular laptop, I have a netbook (no dvd/cd drive, no adobe suite, not much memory/speed, no printer). The unsecured wireless network at the apartment is weak and disconnects frequently, so I can’t even count on getting online at home most of the time. Miami Beach Public Wifi is inconsistent and blocks access to www.blogspot.com when I go to most coffee shops.
So the prospect of doing a project project, is definitely really difficult, and, well, expensive. These ‘little’ projects become big projects; they grow into these overwhelmingly giant architecture monsters. The three I’ve already done grew behind closed doors, in cabinets and under beds and I tried not to think about them until they came out from hiding (at the time I knew they would) and corner me and I thought/felt/screamed:
“Nooooooo! Please don’t eat me all up! Give me a sec, let me think…(how to feed you? How do I satiate your hunger…till next time?)”
I created these frankenstructures. I thought it would be super beneficial and intriguing to redo my old work, but it hasn’t been. It’s not that I’ve been counter-productive, but instead of redoing the past, I want to be present.
Proposition:
I want to study the built environment around me in Miami. There are amazing spaces, designs, movements, and buildings everywhere here, so I propose to submit small studies on them. I’ll go to the places and take pictures or walk or dance around and then do a little research about the history online and through public records. Then blog about it.
I’ll keep the same due dates and number of projects left (five) to start. If it turns out that the posts end up being really short and sweet, then I’ll do more of them. In addition, I’ll sketch something (whether it’s a figure from a magazine or a building or car) everyday. When I go home to Naples, I’ll scan my sketches in and post them.
It’s simple and might seem less ‘creative’ than the original proposed projects, but for me, right now, it makes more sense. I’m not going to be living here very long, and, obviously, I just moved here. So doing this will push me to get out and see and experience Miami instead of struggling to build/construct/create things in my tiny apartment out of materials I don’t have using tools out of reach with my hands tied behind my back. (And then beat myself up about the project not being on par with it's original.) And sketching--sketching will always be good for me.
Steve Ross, how do you feel about this?
toStephen Ross
dateMon, Mar 15, 2010 at 8:42 PM
subjectrevision
mailed-bygmail.com
hide details 8:42 PM (1 minute ago)
In my original proposal I wrote this:
“Through this study, I desire to incorporate my previous background and training in architecture with what I am doing now and the current path I have chosen to take in an effort to discover a new outlet and way to take everything in.”
The projects I assigned myself are not fulfilling this statement and are not what I want them to be. Simply ‘wanting’ stronger projects does nothing, I need to make it happen. The problem that I didn’t really think about and/or anticipate when I wrote this study was my access to the tools and resources to create good projects. I’m not in Austin anymore. (I’m not even in Naples anymore!)
I don’t have a studio space with pens, papers, desks, or exactos. I share a tiny studio apartment on Miami Beach lacking even the basics: desk, scotch tape, pins, pencils. No kitchen either (which makes my baking/cooking/recipe ideas out the window). I don’t have the woodshop. I don’t have the art/architecture stores in walking distance, like the Co-op or Asel or Breed’s. I don’t have a computer lab with the super fast and powerful computers with all those wonderful programs like Rhino or Adobe Suite, hooked up all those printers.
(Sigh).
I don’t even have a regular laptop, I have a netbook (no dvd/cd drive, no adobe suite, not much memory/speed, no printer). The unsecured wireless network at the apartment is weak and disconnects frequently, so I can’t even count on getting online at home most of the time. Miami Beach Public Wifi is inconsistent and blocks access to www.blogspot.com when I go to most coffee shops.
So the prospect of doing a project project, is definitely really difficult, and, well, expensive. These ‘little’ projects become big projects; they grow into these overwhelmingly giant architecture monsters. The three I’ve already done grew behind closed doors, in cabinets and under beds and I tried not to think about them until they came out from hiding (at the time I knew they would) and corner me and I thought/felt/screamed:
“Nooooooo! Please don’t eat me all up! Give me a sec, let me think…(how to feed you? How do I satiate your hunger…till next time?)”
I created these frankenstructures. I thought it would be super beneficial and intriguing to redo my old work, but it hasn’t been. It’s not that I’ve been counter-productive, but instead of redoing the past, I want to be present.
Proposition:
I want to study the built environment around me in Miami. There are amazing spaces, designs, movements, and buildings everywhere here, so I propose to submit small studies on them. I’ll go to the places and take pictures or walk or dance around and then do a little research about the history online and through public records. Then blog about it.
I’ll keep the same due dates and number of projects left (five) to start. If it turns out that the posts end up being really short and sweet, then I’ll do more of them. In addition, I’ll sketch something (whether it’s a figure from a magazine or a building or car) everyday. When I go home to Naples, I’ll scan my sketches in and post them.
It’s simple and might seem less ‘creative’ than the original proposed projects, but for me, right now, it makes more sense. I’m not going to be living here very long, and, obviously, I just moved here. So doing this will push me to get out and see and experience Miami instead of struggling to build/construct/create things in my tiny apartment out of materials I don’t have using tools out of reach with my hands tied behind my back. (And then beat myself up about the project not being on par with it's original.) And sketching--sketching will always be good for me.
Steve Ross, how do you feel about this?
Friday, March 12, 2010
Architectural Theory: SoBe Art Gallery
1.5 weeks
material: Me, Clothes, Grey Backdrop, David Perez (photographer)
I was brainstorming like a madwoman trying to figure out how I wanted to do this project and no matter which way I went, I kept coming back to The Person, to you, to him, to her, to me. The problem was, I was going round in circles with what was what. I thought I’d written down a new idea, only to realize that it was just another twist in the spiraling storm. The idea of a gallery is about display, but there is ambiguity about what is on display and what is being displayed. So all my ‘new’ ideas kept bringing me back to my self-obsessed, self-absorbed eye of the storm.
Why did I keep coming back to myself? I asked.
I asked: What comes first?
The Person : Human Being. I answered.
I answered: The person as gallery, art, artist, audience, and consumer.
I sought to find simplicity and clarity in this project. I fought the simplicity and clarity I kept finding. It’s like when you keep scouring your pantry or fridge or closet for that one thing and then realize that it’s been right in front of your face the whole time. This project is like that. After talking to my mom (or, probably more accurately talking to myself out loud) I can perhaps accept that my thoughts + circumstances + hopes + daydreams …have all been converging and culminating into that ‘aha, there you are!’ moment. That, yes, what I am looking for is right in front of my face.
And that’s not a bad thing. I’ve been defending the blatant simplicity of this project to myself, trying to come up with ways to complicate it because that would somehow make it seem like I put more effort, time, and energy into it which would prove that I am taking this course and these projects seriously. Eventually I shot down every complication. It became a series of exercises that only kept reinforcing my simple answer.
So this project is simply one photo of me. Over and over again. The photo stays the same. The implications, observations, do not (I hope).
So this project is simply one photo of me. Over and over again. The photo stays the same. The implications, observations, do not (I hope).
PERSON AS GALLERY
A gallery is where things are on display. The body displays fabrics, patterns, skill, technique, jewelry, emotion. It is a place that brings art (these things) to life, illuminating beauty. It is a volume with all sorts of angles, curves, spaces, and surfaces to be exploited and explored. One’s mind and body are places to experience art.
PERSON AS ARTArt is inherently an idea of depth in the sense that something meaningful is conveyed in a creative way. Something is art when we understand it as that. That is human. The human form is provocative, intriguing, beautiful, understood and misunderstood. It’s body bends, folds, creates spaces, and reinvents itself living, breathing, and growing. The shape is always unique and always the same. An artist can position the figure, manipulate it’s form and interpretation to embody their work.
PERSON AS ARTISTThe person as creator who can utilize their mind to realize ideas and unleash potential. The artist creates/ represents/ seeks genius, simplicity, and complexity.
“If you ask me what I came to do in this world, I, an artist, I will answer you: ‘I am here to live out loud’ “ –Emile Zola
PERSON AS AUDIENCEThe person is observer of this world, of all art. There is an ability to comprehend art in relation to ones’ self and one’s experiences that enhances and reinterprets the work. All art is made for an audience because it is nothing without observation/comprehension/thought.
PERSON AS CONSUMER The consumer goes beyond mere observation. This person needs the art, spending money, time, energy, actively consuming art. This relationship is symbiotic, the consumer finding a deeper meaning and understanding in themselves and the world in exchange for supporting the structure/system including the artist, art, gallery, canvas, and audience.
What do I see, what do I think, how do I feel, what do I say without opening my mouth? Am I asking about the girl in the photo or author of this blog or 'I' as the reader?
What do I see, what do I think, how do I feel, what do I say without opening my mouth? Am I asking about the girl in the photo or author of this blog or 'I' as the reader?
Design II: SoCo Art Gallery
4 weeks
scale: 1/16" = 1'0"
instructor: Joyce Rosner
This project evolved out of the idea of surface and the act of folding. A ribbon of two materials (wood and perforated paper) was folded and wrapped within the narrow site to define spaces. The materials separate and extend beyond each other to manipulate the texture of the space and play of light.
The program required an exterior sculpture garden, a light gallery, and dark gallery. One enters the gallery through a floating procession overlooking the sunken sculpture garden. The perforations created a play of light and shadow in the reception area. Indirect light shone through layered roof planes in the upper gallery while the dark gallery (for films) was placed underground.
We generated our concepts for the project through a series of collages, paperfolding exercises, and soap models.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Flying Saucers and Concrete Ribbons
I don’t know where to begin. I finished Anastasia and she was all over the place; I’ve been all over the place; my mind flip-flops and splatters everywhere. All of this, in the best way possible.
Anastasia talked about our primitive destructive technology and culturing microorganisms to utilize in flying saucers. I’ve copied a couple paragraphs from the book to give the general gist:
“The functioning of all your machines, every single one of them, is based on the energy of explosion. Not knowing any more efficient natural sources of energy, you resort to such primitive, awkward substitutes with incredible stubbornness. And even the destructive consequences of their use do not stop you. The range of your aeroplanes and rockets is simply laughable –according to the scale of the Universe they rise a wee tiny bit above the Earth, and now this method has practically reached its ceiling, do not you agree? But that is ridiculous! An exploding or burning substance propels some monstrous structure that you call a space ship. And the greater part of this ship is designed precisely to ‘solve’ this problem of propulsion.[…]
“…if you or your people had purer thoughts and consequently a knowledge of the functionings of Nature, you would have long ago become aware that if there is a substance capable of instant expansion and, through explosion, transformation into another state, the opposite process must also hold true. […] A microorganism smaller than the eye can see does this with fantastic speed, feeding, it would seem, on air alone. It is these same kinds of microorganisms that power flying saucers. They are like the microcells in the brain, only their operation has a very narrow focus. Their sole function is propulsion. But they carry out this function to perfection and they can accelerate a flying saucer to one-nineteenth the speed of the average modern Earth-dweller’s thought.
“ These microorganisms are located on the inner surface of the upper part of the flying saucer and positioned between its double walls, which are set approximately three centimeters apart. The upper and lower surfaces of the other walls are porous, with micro-sized pinholes. The microorganisms draw in air through these pinholes, thereby creating a vacuum ahead of the saucer. The streams of air begin to congeal even before contact with the saucer and as they pass through the microorganisms they are transformed into tiny spheres. Then these spheres are enlarged even more, to approximately half a centimeter in diameter. They lose their firmness, and slide down between the walls into the lower part of the saucer, where they again decompose into a gaseous substance. You can even eat them, if you can do this before they decompose.”
Anastasia goes on to describe how to culture them.
She comes up with a realistically feasible (both economically and socially) solution to help curb urban air pollution. She talks about raising children and how that is the most important thing. That she’ll entertain Vladimir (the author) with singing superbly, doing crazy good gymnastics, speaking different languages, discussing (in the plainest terms) the concept of hover technology---but that the most important thing is raising children because therein lies the future of human society and the key to unleash our potential.
We resort to extremely childish solutions to solve our global, most fundamental problems. The way she looks at our technology makes total sense. And our conflict resolution? We fight wars and kill people. Our waste? We dump it, bury it, burn it. Really? If two little kids were fighting in a sandbox, parents would intervene and attempt to resolve the conflict without the kids hitting each other. Nations are big kids, but who intervenes? If a little kid buried a piece of trash in the sandbox, a parent might tell them that that isn’t wear trash belongs, it belongs in the garbage…which will then be transported far away to pile up until it makes a hill, which will then be covered with dirt and grass. New landscape: an oozing, infected, pus-filled blemish on earth’s skin. Then we’ll build a public park or something like that on it. What a beautiful hill, newly discovered in Florida’s flat landscape!
Speaking of flat Florida, the drive from Naples to Miami (which, now, in the past 3 weeks I have taken 13 times…it’s 2 hours long…and, consequently, 13 times reversed) is not entirely flat. It’s flat, toll, flat, flat, flat, flat, flat, Seminole Indian Casino signs, small pass over manmade canal (occasionally), flat, flat, flat, (oh look! An alligator sunbathing in the canal running parallel the whole route), flat, flat, flat, flat, toll, and then concrete slopes and curves galore! Ease to the right, curve up into the sky, sweep down under three oversized concrete ribbons, grassy triangles of unused space dip and fill with water when it rains, abandoned. Trees are banned. Humanity is banned. Six lane highways cater to my little yellow bug and she crawls along the endless roadscape.
From the sky, the curves look enticing, intriguing how they bend, ratios, calculations of turning radiuses, careful accelerations, loads…all are taken into account to produce this oversized looping concrete. From a car, it’s like I’m programmed to accept it, I don’t notice how dismal it is because I’m speeding along so quickly. I turn up the radio, weave in and out of cars to the rhythm. But if stopped on the side, if abandoned along the highway for any amount of time, it would be fucking awful. It’s ugly, hostel, and dead. Driving cars don’t scream life even though they move.
This morning I didn’t either. I woke up early, got up and into my yellow bug by eight. I don’t have a parking permit yet, so the meter must be paid, in coins, between 8 am and 6 pm. I drove her to Target to get shelves for my little studio apartment…and I had one of those overwhelming moments. Overwhelmed by my existence and conditions. I was looking at tiptoeing around parking all day (to what, save a couple dollars?). I can’t stop spending money…on this parking thing (signing the title of the car to me, opening up a bank account with this address to prove residence, buying the pass, moving to Miami, driving back and forth)…the list just collapses on my head. Curbing my defaulted student loans. Paying for this course. Online English, still not started after a month. I stopped making money and I haven’t booked one of these castings that I’m bending over backwards to go to.
I thought I was great as the sister in the Spanish KFC Breast Cancer awareness commercial, holding the fried chicken bin and saying, hopefully, ‘Por mi hermana.’ I would be a great background ‘hippy girl’ in an Italian cell phone commercial too, I thought.
Well, apparently, someone else is a better sister or more fitting hippy. And it probably doesn’t help that I don’t actually have the right materials: i.e. a 9x12 model portfolio and comp cards yet. And those prints and book all cost more money.
I could have finished school by now and had my degree. AAAaaawwwww!
On the brink of tears, well, actually, some had already escaped, my mom called. She sensed my state and said that she was proud of me for what I’m trying to do and that it isn’t easy. And I just have to put in the time. It takes time. There are a lot of ‘what if’s’ . I still found myself teary after I hung up. Over the phone, she helped me pick out a big white shelf.
Anastasia talked about our primitive destructive technology and culturing microorganisms to utilize in flying saucers. I’ve copied a couple paragraphs from the book to give the general gist:
“The functioning of all your machines, every single one of them, is based on the energy of explosion. Not knowing any more efficient natural sources of energy, you resort to such primitive, awkward substitutes with incredible stubbornness. And even the destructive consequences of their use do not stop you. The range of your aeroplanes and rockets is simply laughable –according to the scale of the Universe they rise a wee tiny bit above the Earth, and now this method has practically reached its ceiling, do not you agree? But that is ridiculous! An exploding or burning substance propels some monstrous structure that you call a space ship. And the greater part of this ship is designed precisely to ‘solve’ this problem of propulsion.[…]
“…if you or your people had purer thoughts and consequently a knowledge of the functionings of Nature, you would have long ago become aware that if there is a substance capable of instant expansion and, through explosion, transformation into another state, the opposite process must also hold true. […] A microorganism smaller than the eye can see does this with fantastic speed, feeding, it would seem, on air alone. It is these same kinds of microorganisms that power flying saucers. They are like the microcells in the brain, only their operation has a very narrow focus. Their sole function is propulsion. But they carry out this function to perfection and they can accelerate a flying saucer to one-nineteenth the speed of the average modern Earth-dweller’s thought.
“ These microorganisms are located on the inner surface of the upper part of the flying saucer and positioned between its double walls, which are set approximately three centimeters apart. The upper and lower surfaces of the other walls are porous, with micro-sized pinholes. The microorganisms draw in air through these pinholes, thereby creating a vacuum ahead of the saucer. The streams of air begin to congeal even before contact with the saucer and as they pass through the microorganisms they are transformed into tiny spheres. Then these spheres are enlarged even more, to approximately half a centimeter in diameter. They lose their firmness, and slide down between the walls into the lower part of the saucer, where they again decompose into a gaseous substance. You can even eat them, if you can do this before they decompose.”
Anastasia goes on to describe how to culture them.
She comes up with a realistically feasible (both economically and socially) solution to help curb urban air pollution. She talks about raising children and how that is the most important thing. That she’ll entertain Vladimir (the author) with singing superbly, doing crazy good gymnastics, speaking different languages, discussing (in the plainest terms) the concept of hover technology---but that the most important thing is raising children because therein lies the future of human society and the key to unleash our potential.
We resort to extremely childish solutions to solve our global, most fundamental problems. The way she looks at our technology makes total sense. And our conflict resolution? We fight wars and kill people. Our waste? We dump it, bury it, burn it. Really? If two little kids were fighting in a sandbox, parents would intervene and attempt to resolve the conflict without the kids hitting each other. Nations are big kids, but who intervenes? If a little kid buried a piece of trash in the sandbox, a parent might tell them that that isn’t wear trash belongs, it belongs in the garbage…which will then be transported far away to pile up until it makes a hill, which will then be covered with dirt and grass. New landscape: an oozing, infected, pus-filled blemish on earth’s skin. Then we’ll build a public park or something like that on it. What a beautiful hill, newly discovered in Florida’s flat landscape!
Speaking of flat Florida, the drive from Naples to Miami (which, now, in the past 3 weeks I have taken 13 times…it’s 2 hours long…and, consequently, 13 times reversed) is not entirely flat. It’s flat, toll, flat, flat, flat, flat, flat, Seminole Indian Casino signs, small pass over manmade canal (occasionally), flat, flat, flat, (oh look! An alligator sunbathing in the canal running parallel the whole route), flat, flat, flat, flat, toll, and then concrete slopes and curves galore! Ease to the right, curve up into the sky, sweep down under three oversized concrete ribbons, grassy triangles of unused space dip and fill with water when it rains, abandoned. Trees are banned. Humanity is banned. Six lane highways cater to my little yellow bug and she crawls along the endless roadscape.
From the sky, the curves look enticing, intriguing how they bend, ratios, calculations of turning radiuses, careful accelerations, loads…all are taken into account to produce this oversized looping concrete. From a car, it’s like I’m programmed to accept it, I don’t notice how dismal it is because I’m speeding along so quickly. I turn up the radio, weave in and out of cars to the rhythm. But if stopped on the side, if abandoned along the highway for any amount of time, it would be fucking awful. It’s ugly, hostel, and dead. Driving cars don’t scream life even though they move.
This morning I didn’t either. I woke up early, got up and into my yellow bug by eight. I don’t have a parking permit yet, so the meter must be paid, in coins, between 8 am and 6 pm. I drove her to Target to get shelves for my little studio apartment…and I had one of those overwhelming moments. Overwhelmed by my existence and conditions. I was looking at tiptoeing around parking all day (to what, save a couple dollars?). I can’t stop spending money…on this parking thing (signing the title of the car to me, opening up a bank account with this address to prove residence, buying the pass, moving to Miami, driving back and forth)…the list just collapses on my head. Curbing my defaulted student loans. Paying for this course. Online English, still not started after a month. I stopped making money and I haven’t booked one of these castings that I’m bending over backwards to go to.
I thought I was great as the sister in the Spanish KFC Breast Cancer awareness commercial, holding the fried chicken bin and saying, hopefully, ‘Por mi hermana.’ I would be a great background ‘hippy girl’ in an Italian cell phone commercial too, I thought.
Well, apparently, someone else is a better sister or more fitting hippy. And it probably doesn’t help that I don’t actually have the right materials: i.e. a 9x12 model portfolio and comp cards yet. And those prints and book all cost more money.
I could have finished school by now and had my degree. AAAaaawwwww!
On the brink of tears, well, actually, some had already escaped, my mom called. She sensed my state and said that she was proud of me for what I’m trying to do and that it isn’t easy. And I just have to put in the time. It takes time. There are a lot of ‘what if’s’ . I still found myself teary after I hung up. Over the phone, she helped me pick out a big white shelf.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Up Collins Avenue
I parked in the parking garage on 16th street between Collins and Washington in Miami Beach and walked to my new studio apartment along 30th Street.
The stone bench / retaining wall has metal starfish and rectangle plates. These make it uncomfortable for homeless people to lay or sit and impossible for skateboarders to do tricks. 
A crane. This one is on Miami Beach. I almost didn't notice it. I did notice tons in Milan when I was there this summer.
A shrine on the side of the sidewalk. Four days ago when I was walking by, a group of students were gathererd in this spot; it was shrineless. Did they make it?
CVS bag in Indian Creek water.
An intriguing abandonoed building. I thought it was beautiful. 
Can you get more art deco?
Simultaneous pathways. One is a boarderless deck along Indian Creek. Then there is a metal bumper. Then the concrete sidewalk painted red. Then Collins Avenue. I walked along the red sidewalk until I realized that it would be more pleasant to walk along the boardwalk instead.
Planted Broken Plant Pots as dividers to prevent parking. 
Home, Sweet Home!..with pink marble and vertical purple neon lights.Architectural Theory: Meditation Space
Meditation Spacematerials: trace paper, 'silky' crayons
I made a paper balloon. You start with a square piece of paper and fold it up and then blow into it and it poofs right up. The ‘meditation space’ is within the blown-up balloon.
The paper is the body. The physical, densest matter. Its colors represent the chakras, or the body’s ‘energy centers.’
There are seven chakras, in ascending order along the spinal cord:
2. Swadhisthana - Sacral Chakra (ovaries/prostate) Orange.
3. Manipura - Solar Plexus Chakra (navel area) Yellow.
4. Anahata - Heart Chakra (heart area) Green.
5. Vishuddha - Throat Chakra (throat and neck area) Light Blue.
6. Ajna - Brow or Third Eye Chakra (pineal gland or third eye) Dark Blue.
7. Sahasrara - Crown Chakra (Top of the head) Purple.
The unfolded paper has a beautiful pattern. There is an organization and understanding of higher order. When the paper is folded into the right pattern, the chakras line up into the ascending order. When it is blown up, they are illuminated.
The mind is what grasps this potential. It sees that the body can be creased, folded, scared, crinkled, torn, tattooed, unfolded, and does this. It folds the body into a deflated balloon. It breaths into it...and woah! The body swells up with new space. The mind is the action.
The act of blowing the balloon up has to do with breathing (obviously). Steady, conscious breaths into the hole at the top of the folded shape is the only way to blow it up. Sometimes it works the first time. Sometimes you need to coax it, get half way and refold it carefully along the creases and begin again.
The more frequently you blow up the balloon, the softer and more worn the creases become; the easier the shape understands what to do.
In this model, a meditation space is something within yourself. A higher consciousness, a deeper awareness and state of being is something that can be physically and mentally realized. It is beautiful and fragile; simple and complex. Light can come from within.......................................................
(study models)
*I learned how to make origami paper balloons (and much more) in a week-long day-camp in the basement of a downtown church in Boulder, Colorado. I still remember how to make balloons and frogs. (They start the same way.)
Genisis of New Meditation Space
I don't meditate. I didn't meditate when I designed the original meditation space four years ago. I've never meditated (successfully). It's one of those things that I want to do. The idea and concept and everything about it seems wonderful/healthful/beneficial. But at this point, I've just sort of accepted that I'm not ready.
I'm too impatient; I can't clear my head of racing thoughts; I can't maintain good posture; I don't breath right either. When the impatience and anxiousness settles down, I suspect the other things will improve. All when the time is right. So with that said, my ideas are not coming from a meditative mind. They are coming from a meditative mind admirer.
First I had an idea about contrasting the idea of internal meditative states with surroundings. I wanted to do something with the spaces people actually meditate in versus the ideal spaces we talk about creating. How it is something more internal than external, the calm amongst the chaos.
Then I wanted to use boxes. Almost as if I just made the ascending pathway relief in the original project even more three dimensional--that each was a space. This series of boxes would go together (loosely) like those wooden Russian dolls. One in another in another and so on. Each box would have images or ideas on the outside and inside that related to different aspects of meditation: mind, silence, breathing, stillness, clarity, joy, love, etc.
I pitched this wondrous idea to my mom who meditates every morning for at least an hour in her room. She has a little screen with photos of healers and spiritual leaders; she seeks out workshops and has endless books on spirituality that keep arriving from amazon.com or Barnes & Noble across the street. Basically to me, my mom is an authority on this subject. A meditation space is more hers than mine and she nixed it so fast.
It went something like this:
"Sabrina, the idea of compartmentalizing meditation is inherently backwards. Meditation is about opening up and freeing yourself. [...] Your idea of breaking it down into boxes?...It's not good. It just doesn't make sense."
We chatted. She shared what she thought was fundamentally important and I listened and spilled out ideas and metaphors I thought fit. Thanks, Mom.
I'm too impatient; I can't clear my head of racing thoughts; I can't maintain good posture; I don't breath right either. When the impatience and anxiousness settles down, I suspect the other things will improve. All when the time is right. So with that said, my ideas are not coming from a meditative mind. They are coming from a meditative mind admirer.
First I had an idea about contrasting the idea of internal meditative states with surroundings. I wanted to do something with the spaces people actually meditate in versus the ideal spaces we talk about creating. How it is something more internal than external, the calm amongst the chaos.
Then I wanted to use boxes. Almost as if I just made the ascending pathway relief in the original project even more three dimensional--that each was a space. This series of boxes would go together (loosely) like those wooden Russian dolls. One in another in another and so on. Each box would have images or ideas on the outside and inside that related to different aspects of meditation: mind, silence, breathing, stillness, clarity, joy, love, etc.
I pitched this wondrous idea to my mom who meditates every morning for at least an hour in her room. She has a little screen with photos of healers and spiritual leaders; she seeks out workshops and has endless books on spirituality that keep arriving from amazon.com or Barnes & Noble across the street. Basically to me, my mom is an authority on this subject. A meditation space is more hers than mine and she nixed it so fast.
It went something like this:
"Sabrina, the idea of compartmentalizing meditation is inherently backwards. Meditation is about opening up and freeing yourself. [...] Your idea of breaking it down into boxes?...It's not good. It just doesn't make sense."
We chatted. She shared what she thought was fundamentally important and I listened and spilled out ideas and metaphors I thought fit. Thanks, Mom.
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