Sunday, June 30, 2013

Mountains, Mounds, and Mesas

Let me begin by saying that this book is beautiful, and I'm not just saying that because it's in Helvetica.  The sketches are well crafted and detailed without being overwhelming, and the information provided is clearly organized.  

Anyway, Civilizing Terrains, like Made in Tokyo, is basically a group of architectural examples, but these pertain to the earth.  I don't really have too much to say, but if you're interesting in the manipulation of natural forms, I recommend you check out the examples yourself.  Instead I'll just note some of the ones that I found particularly interesting.


These are the Storer House, the Ennis House, and the Kaufman House, some notable residences designed by Frank Lloyd Wright.  These particular examples are given to show how Wright adapts the environment to fit his specific needs, or more accurately, how he changes his design in order to compensate for the natural state of space.  He believed that the Kaufman house should belong to the hill, not merely rest atop it.  It is this type of spatial manipulation that is necessary in architecture.



This is called "The Brick Mountain," a ziggurat in Mesopotamia that seems pretty standard to me upon first look.  However, each of the four strata hold a certain meaning.  One is the underworld, another the earth, the heavens, and finally the sun.  It was not uncommon to have meaning within structures, but the preciseness with which they laid buildings out has always fascinated me.  



Saturday, June 29, 2013

“People never notice anything.” -Holden Caulfield

A staple piece of literature that all architects read is Rem Koolhaas' Delirious New York, a history of Manhatanism, Decongested Congestion, and skyscrapers.  Koolhaas is arguably the greatest architectural theoretician of our time, and it's no wonder people think this.  Delirious New York is written in a deceivingly vernacular tone stating moments in architecture exactly as they are, in plain speech for all to understand.  Yet beneath these truths are layers of meaning and symbolism that explain his main points about New York.  My only real qualm is that the book seems outdated; it chronicles a history of New York and makes conclusions about urban trends based off of what happened decades ago, and though it may have been important at the time, much of the city has undergone changes that negate some of the points.  That being said, the ideology and history Koolhaas lays out is still relevant in architecture.

I've never been a fan of skyscrapers, but they are obviously a huge part of New York.  Koolhaas wastes no time in praising certain buildings and explaining the changes in skyscraper design.  Sleek, modern, cutting-edge, or what-have-you, skyscrapers represented progress in city architecture, especially in New York.  I still do not really understand what is so great about a tall rectangle, but Koolhaas certainly helped me understand the importance on this theoretical level, where the city represents where the people themselves are progressing, and how that can be manifested in a form that is both aesthetic, function, and utilitous in continuing these ideas.



"Only the lingering imperfection of the human race itself casts a shadow in this arena of ecstasy; the architecture is superior to its occupants."  People always talk about how arrogant architects are, but I guess you really have to be confident in your work if you want to have any chance of succeeding, even if we are only human.  In a general sense, New York is entirely an architecture that includes the masses of people on the subway, the parks scattered across the city, the boardwalk of Coney Island, and so on. Despite noting the failures over time of places like Coney Island, Koolhaas maintains hope that people and architecture will evolve such run-down spaces into something spectacular.  Even if it changes, people never notice anything and probably don't care if they did.  You have to be able to make something out of nothing.  After all, Le Corbusier did say that New York was such a "beautiful catastrophe."

Space, Place, and Landscape

The Landscape Urbanism Reader is a collection of essays that provide varying theories on the direction of landscape architecture in a modern age.  While some layout certain histories and trends, others focus on concepts they hope will change the path of landscape architecture and urbanism.  Though the essays were not particularly my cup of tea, they do provide valuable ideas, most interestingly the nature of human interaction with a landscape.

As an undergraduate I took a course called "Space, Place, and Landscape," a course designed to broaden one's conceptions of landscape by continually altering the definition and parameters set out by scholars.  Despite the fact that I never fully established my own definition, I did come to a better understanding of the fluidity of landscape, a concept fundamental to The Landscape Urbanism Reader.  Essentially it boils down to how humans are supposed to interact with a given space, whether that be dictated by the architecture or something else is subject to a more specific location.  Either way one can never really establish set guidelines as to what a landscape entails, nor how to "correctly approach this architecturally.


A good landscape, according to these particular scholars, tends to not only include the physical land, but also highways, buildings, people, and the environment.  One author, Alan Berger, coins the term "drosscape" to describe landscapes in relation to waste.  For him, both the natural and synthetics waste produced by the population contribute greatly to the way we interact with a space.  Though an interesting premise that seems to hold true, a drosscape shifts focus away from the actual earth, which I think should always be the focus on landscape architecture.  Naturally one must account for all aspects in a given space, but I believe it is the manipulation of land and the ability to construct something out of the natural environment that is the most powerful part of landscape architecture.

Friday, June 28, 2013

Ghost Rail Factories and Roller Coasters

For school I have to read some core texts for architecture and landscape architecture.  I hope to talk about each of these books individually, time permitting.  Here is the first of 5 installments.    


The first book I read was Made in Tokyo, a analysis of modern architecture in Japan, full of different examples of architecture indicative of Japanese style and culture.  "All roads lead to logistical urbanity" the authors state, arguing for a more fluid approach to development and approving of the subsequent resulting styles.  The core of the theory centers on the notion of interdisciplinary design, saying that architecture in Tokyo necessarily combines architecture, urbanism, landscape architecture, anthropology, biology, engineering, physics, art, and so on.  Eventually this leads to a modern Tokyo, one that comprehensively synthesizes all the different fields into a cohesive architecture unique to Tokyo.

Though I enjoyed the examples in the book, including a repurposed abandoned ghost rail factory and a roller coastal central to the city, most of the ideas seem rather obvious.


Of course architecture is multi-disciplinary; it is inherent in the field, which is also true for many other fields as well.  Perhaps the authors' main intent was not to suggest that this be adopted by all architects, but instead to look at Tokyo as a technical and immediate example of successful architectural urbanism.  

Regardless, the examples presented are interesting, as they provide brief insight into a city and culture I am unfamiliar with.  My background in anthropology has trained me to understand this, but it never occurred to me to apply this to architecture.  The 20th century in architecture attempted to produce a universal, international language for architecture, which I believe is the correct approach, yet Made in Tokyo proves that this may not be entirely possible, as different cultures designed different spaces for different purposes.

The United States of America may have a roller coaster looping through Las Vegas, but an abandoned railway now being used as a plaster factory, a sex building that is essentially a prostitution house, an apartment mountain temple, and a self proclaimed "Vampire Park" used normally as a standard park, train station, and blood donation center are unique to Tokyo.  Granted other countries may adopt similar practices or spaces into their own cultures, but for now I'm convinced to look at each architectural instance as a separate entity, which will hopefully allow me to better approach the application of my own architectural theories.



Thursday, June 27, 2013

The Beginning

I wanted to make this blog so I could share my architectural experiences with other people.  In less than a week I will begin architecture school, and I hope this blog will provide insight not only to what I'm doing in school, but also to my everyday thoughts and other points of interest.  Hopefully I'll be able to update this with relative frequency, but if what I've read about the life of an architect is true, that may not be the case.

Thanks for stopping by, and enjoy!