Miscellanea, etc. / 17 Feb 2017

I've had a string of flare ups in the last couple weeks and have been spending more time at home than I would have hoped. Thanks to technology, though, here is a smattering of miscellanea that has kept me occupied in my couch-bound days:

/ / /

_ SCARS ARE BEAUTIFUL

Rachel Sussman, “Study for Sidewalk Kintsukuroi #01 (New Haven, Connecticut)” (via Hyperallergic)

“Cracks represent something in need of attention, and the surfaces we walk, bike, and drive over are usually overlooked until they’re in truly critical condition,” Sussman said. “By gilding them, it’s a way to see what’s around us with fresh eyes and to celebrate perseverance.”

Artist Rachel Sussman takes the Japanese tradition of kintsukuroi, repairing ceramics with gold, to the more macro scale of the floor, the sidewalk. I can't help but be drawn to her careful attention to the scars in our cities. Her work is currently part of an exhibition on gold at the Des Moines Art Center. (via Hyperallergic; emphasis my own)

Land of the dead amidst the living

Mayhap there be a hand emerging from the gaping maws of that grave? (Glasgow Necropolis)

Cemeteries are one of Halloween's favorite source of creepiness, full of tombstones and skeletons, ghosts and ghouls. Superstitions abound about the undead, vengeful spirits, and untimely death. Cue the muhahaha (cue: the laugh at the end of the Thriller music video)...

In daylight hours outside of October 31st, though, these resting places for the dead are actually a favorite of mine to visit -- even to have a picnic. My travel agendas often include finding a local graveyard, right alongside touring famous museums, monuments, and neighborhood cafes. Nope, I'm not a particularly morbid person, nor do I relish getting scared (note: I really really don't). But I find them to be places of beauty and memory, filled with interesting carvings and cultural turns. I follow in history's footsteps, when graveyards were initially integrated right into the city fabric and, later in the 1830s, became the first "rural" public parks.

Buried in snow, so where does it go?

Hello from the land of snow, snow, and more snow that is Boston, Massachusetts, USA.

We've had the snowiest month ever (98.7" and counting), the second snowiest winter ever (see graphic), and more white stuff is on its way as we speak.  Plus some rain and above-freezing temperatures tomorrow to throw some snow melt and ice in the wintry mix.

The stats (updated daily by the city):

285,728 miles plowed

74,862 tons of salt

174,725 hours plowed

98.7 inches (8.225 feet) total snow fall

While this 'winter from hell' (aka Snowmageddon, among other names) is already a cliched subject in the news, as a visual person and student of the built environment, I have still had lingering questions.  For instance, how much snow has there been?  How can I make it personal?  We've seen graphics galore on the amounts and quantities, but I thought it would be fun to visualize myself buried in the heap:

Yes, that is actually a scalie ("silhouette" used in rendered images) of me.  

My entire M.Arch class was converted into scalies, and some of my classmates are featured here as well.

(And no, that dog wasn't part of the class, just there as a height reference and for cuteness factor.)

Not by map, but by sight

I came across this intriguing essay in The Atlantic / Cities :

How Do You Navigate a City with No Street Names?

The place in question is Amman, Jordan, a labyrinth of nameless streets and alleyways.  I love the anecdote the author uses to illustrate the problem of navigation:

"It's totally normal to be lost and confused," says photographer Regina Mamou, who spent a year studying how the people of Amman get around. Once, she remembers getting directions to a party via a map the hostess had Photoshopped herself. "I had recreated it on this Post-it, and i still couldn't get to her house," she says.Finally, her friend climbed to the roof of her building and called for her. "There's a sense that this was totally normal," Mamou says. "The fact that we have to get on top of a roof and shout down." 

Here, it's all about the landmarks.  These are the primary nodes of navigation based on visual and experiential memory, not the rational memory of street names and gridlines.

Reading this reminded me of being in Port-au-Prince.  From the very moment M and I hopped in the taxi from the airport to the Haiti Communitere compound, we were told again and again that the best way to orient people to the place was not to tell them we lived on Rue Pelican in Clercine, but that we were staying across from the Jedco.  (As far as I could tell, Jedco deals with industrial-scaled cleaning and management of sorts.)

And you know what?  It worked every time.  Moto drivers (basically taxis for 1-2+ people) never ceased to know where we wanted to go if we were going back -- it was more the going out that was tricky.  Gotta learn the landmarks.  There's something really meaningful and simple about that.

High Line : Part deux

via Architectural Record

“We like to think of it as a place where people revel in doing nothing, which is an anomaly for New Yorkers.  It has an unscripted, unintended, unprogrammed timelessness. You just get lost in there."

// Liz Diller, in the NYTimes article

anticipating the opening of Section 2 of the High Line

Has anyone seen it yet?  (Some people clearly have.)

Once upon a time in NYC...

... there were mundane objects lying around the city we call the City, waiting to be noticed.  Items like the window air conditioner...

... the steam vent ...

... the ubiquitous hot dog vendor ...

... and more simply pined for attention.  Which they got.  When the Department of Benign Violations came along.

Suddenly the streets were filled with music.  People chilled (or heated) at bus stops and bicycle racks.  Facades were covered with inflatables, transformative louvers, and even erupted with balloons.  Trees moved to the song of hot dogs sizzling.  Rooftops blossomed.  Taxis buzzed with electrostatic energy and removed the lint off of the sweaters of passersby.  And the streets of NYC were forever changed.

Study break

One track in the eclectic soundtrack accompanying late night thesis prep work ...

Makes me want to take a weekend trip.

Now you see it, now you...

 via PSFK

One of my courses for this semester "Activating the Mundane," a research seminar with Berkeley professor Walter Hood that looks at urban objects commonly overlooked by designers (i.e. mailboxes, parking meters, etc.) and reimagines their role in cities.

Street artist Cayetano Ferrer called attention to some of these objects in his City of Chicago project by dematerializing them, using photo stickers and other methods to render them transparent.  Somehow it's in the virtual disappearance of these signs and objects with a heightened awareness of their existence.

A view that's not from the Peak

Hong Kong skyline

from a view I didn't get to see while there last summer.  Spike's Hongkie Town blog doesn't give the photos justice (they're just a little too small) and these are a bit blurry, but they're still not the "typical" shot from Victoria Peak.  I like the Kowloon photo the best: concrete jungles photograph well at night.

becoming bostonian #1: a different route

i'm not sure yet if this will become a constant feature i'll write on, but "becoming bostonian" seemed like a good way to label the little discoveries in this here (still) new city of mine. many of these will probably be all-too familiar to true residents, but hey - new to me is what counts. onward!

- - -


[courtesy of denig design associates]

today i decided to take a different route to work, to walk on foot rather than take the T one stop to back bay station. i had heard about the southwest corridor park just the other day from one of my coworkers, but never realized that one of the access points was directly across the street from the mass ave T stop. it was supposed to have been the southwest expressway, but thank God that never went through - stepping into it was like finding a peaceful, (non-yello) brick-lined oasis as a relief to crazed boston drivers.

the park itself stretches from back bay station all the way out to forest hills along the orange line. although you can still hear and feel the periodic rumble of the train underneath, it's still pretty quiet, with flowers and trees planted along the way. walking along it this morning felt like the first time i found the promenade plantee in paris - almost a secret route through the heart of town (cheesy i know...a "secret" thousands of other commuters, dog walkers, and bikers already know about). makes for an easy 4.7 mile bike ride or long walk on a weekend.

so, why did i take the T again?