Earthquake Sounds, Tsunami Rocks, Future Trenches

[Image: Photo by Ko Sasaki, courtesy of the New York Times].

1) "This webpage contains earthquake 'sounds' created from seismic recordings around the world generated by the 2011/03/11 Mw9.0 Tohoku, Japan earthquake. They provide a unique way for us to listen to the vibration of the Earth that is otherwise inaudible to us, and to decipher the complicated earthquake physics and triggering processes."

2) "The stone tablet has stood on this forested hillside since before they were born, but the villagers have faithfully obeyed the stark warning carved on its weathered face: 'Do not build your homes below this point!' Residents say this injunction from their ancestors kept their tiny village of 11 households safely out of reach of the deadly tsunami last month that wiped out hundreds of miles of Japanese coast and rose to record heights near here. The waves stopped just 300 feet below the stone... Hundreds of so-called tsunami stones, some more than six centuries old, dot the coast of Japan, silent testimony to the past destruction that these lethal waves have frequented upon this earthquake-prone nation."

3) "Europe may be starting to dive under Africa, creating a new subduction zone and potentially increasing the earthquake risk in the western Mediterranean Sea... For millions of years the African plate, which contains part of the Mediterranean seabed, has been moving northward toward the Eurasian Plate at a rate of about an inch every 2.5 years (a centimeter a year). Now studies of recent earthquakes in the region indicate that a new subduction zone may be forming where the plates are colliding along the coasts of Algeria and northern Sicily... [M]ost established subduction zones are marked by giant undersea trenches. A similar trench should eventually form in the Mediterranean—but certainly not overnight."

"I Don't Want to Stand Out,I Just Want to Dress Better Than Anyone Else"

Today I posted two shots of hair bows worn by ladies uptown.The second shot is of Mrs. Anne Marie Bullen. I asked Anne Marie a few questions about age and style. I hope you enjoy our short interview below.

Do you mind me asking your age?
"Up until 80 you lie about your age,after 80 you tend to brag. I am 85 years old."

Where do you get you style inspiration?
"I follow my mother's advice. She only had three outfits, but they were all very lovely.The best advice she gave me is that the shoulders have to fit just right."

How would you describe your style?
"I wear simple, formal clothes. I never wear pants. I don't dress up to impress anyone I just feel better. I don't want to stand out, I just want to dress better than anyone else."

Hair Bows

[Photos by Ari Seth Cohen]

This post is dedicated to Maira Kalman, one of my favorite writers and artists. In her book, The Principles Of Uncertainty, she included wonderful photos of people from behind. I was inspired to take the photos above after seeing the shots she took in the Hermitage, of a woman with a bow in her hair(below). Hair bows are a great way to add some charm and style to an already fashionable hairdo.

[Photos by Maira Kalman]

Architectural Ecology

It's not difficult to imagine finding unexpected affinities between a specific animal species and certain types of architectural ornament, whether it's pigeons nesting on the tops of ruined columns in Rome, bats colonizing the attic windows of single-family Victorian homes, or bees, moths, wasps, and other bugs breeding in the cracks of terracotta egg-and-dart.

[Image: A bird in Rome].

However, it would be interesting to see if any of the following scenarios might be true:

1) Ornamental details from a particular phase of, say, the Baroque—or the Gothic, or Dravidian temple design—are found to attract a specific species of bird, whose size, nesting needs, etc., correspond exactly to the proportional details of this decorative style. Because of the foods those birds eat, however, and, thus, what seeds they later spread around their flight paths, their guano results in a very specific kind of forest growing around each building (or its ruins). The buildings catalyze their own ecological context, in other words, ringed by forests they indirectly helped create.

2) A particular type of early modern warehouse or other such industrial structure is found to house a specific species of bird, perhaps because only its frame can fit through gaps in the brickwork, precluding colonization by other species. Thus, while all other bird species in the local ecosystem have gone extinct—due to habitat loss, food-web collapse, or whatever—these birds, regally ensconced inside their protective warehouses, manage to survive. They are thus saved by 19th-century architecture—perhaps even by one architecture office's work. A species that only lives inside buildings by Anthony George Lyster.

3) When the type of stone used to build a region's churches erodes, weathering away to nothing, its remnant minerals fertilize a specific type of weed or small flowering plant, one that would otherwise eventually have died off. Thus, whenever you see a particular flower, you can deduce from its presence that a church built during this particular phase of architectural history once stood there. The flowers are archaeological indicators, we might say: botanical traces of architectural history.

[Image: Del Castello dell'Acqua Giulia by Piranesi].

In all three cases, these buildings' unanticipated side-effects would ripple outward to influence the evolutionary development of other, future species, whose ecological origins are thus at least partially predicated on the existence of a specific phase of, for example, Baroque architecture or 19th-century warehouse design. So when those architects were designing their buildings, they were also indirectly designing future species.

Fiction and the city

[Images: From "Dream Isle" by CJ Lim/Studio 8 Architects with Thomas Hillier, Maxwell Mutanda, Rachel Guo, and Ed Liu, from Short Stories: London in Two-and-a-Half Dimensions].

I've just received a copy of the forthcoming book Short Stories: London in Two-and-a-Half Dimensions by CJ Lim and Ed Liu, and I thought I'd include a few glimpses of it here.

[Image: From "Carousel" by CJ Lim/Studio 8 Architects with Maxwell Mutanda, from Short Stories].

The book is ostensibly a collection of spatial short stories in which "unexpected environments and places transform into active protagonists." The stories are "laced with a healthy dose of myth and locational specificity," as the authors write in the book's preface.

They continue:

The short stories of this book's title are set in different time periods of London, intentionally locating themselves in the liminal territory between fiction and architecture to provoke an engagement between readers and their two-dimensional counterparts occupying the depicted city. The stories are neither illustrated texts nor captioned images; the collages represent a network of spatial relationships, and the text, which splices genre such as science fiction, magical realism and the fairy tale, a thread that links some of the nodes of that network together.

In the two following images, for instance, produced by the authors in collaboration with Maxwell Mutanda and Tomasz Marchewka, we see a fictive bridge connecting what are described as the warring tribes of north and south London. There are 214 bridges over the Thames, this story goes, but every year a new connective filament appears: a 215th bridge.

This bridge, "in contrast to its predecessors, is a transitory connection joining the two halves of the metropolis only between the summer months of June and September, during which a common amnesty is held."

[Images: From "Discontinuous Cities" by CJ Lim/Studio 8 Architects with Maxwell Mutanda and Tomasz Marchewka, from Short Stories].

In other stories, Alice in Wonderland collides with the Playboy Mansion, which arrives for one night, and one night only, in the parks of London, where "underground chambers, replicating the hole through which Alice follows the white rabbit, had been scattered through the garden, capped with circular lenses and mirrors," optically augmenting this hedonistic underworld.

A "roving telescopic contraption" roams the streets; a leather suitcase pops open and "the habitable spaces within extend and unfold each morning to provide a stage for grooming, relaxation and formal dining"; a landscape illuminated by falling stars is discovered to be watered from below by "networks of metal piping" that "mirrored the arrangement of flowers above."

Elsewhere, a baker works himself to exhaustion "every day without fail," perfuming the city with fresh bread from within his "synaesthetic pleasure dome," its "glorious landscape of smells shifting from fermenting acidity to caramelizing sweetness, a riot of auburn and amber reflecting the fires of the bakery and street lamps outside, a symphony of hissing steam and the pummeling of dough."

The two images, below, show "nebulous clouds of steam," like an artificial weather front—its "topiaries of water vapour will become indistinguishable from clouds," we read—being produced in the baker's garden.

[Images: From "The Baker's Garden" by CJ Lim/Studio 8 Architects with Safia Qureshi, from Short Stories].

There are dragons and summer solstices and mechanical animals roving the streets; butchers' towers, police on horseback, and a fictional interview with the director of something called the New Battersea Centre for Dogs, who explains how she managed to transform vast circular gasometers into greyhound racing parks.

As novelist China Miéville explained to BLDGBLOG in an interview published here last month, London is a city peculiarly well-suited for these sorts of literary and spatial phantasmagoria: "For various reasons, some cities refract, through aesthetics and through art, with a particular kind of flamboyancy. For whatever reason, London is one of them. I don’t mean to detract from all the other cities in the world that have their own sort of Gnosticism, but it is definitely the case that London has worked particularly well for this."

[Images: From "The Nocturnal Tower" by CJ Lim/Studio 8 Architects with Barry Cho, from Short Stories].

In Short Stories—where myths are told through photographs of pop-out paper figures and propped-open books—London becomes a city architects will always have the freedom to re-dream, and architecture itself becomes a way to undo the spatial straightjackets we find ourselves within.

But does all this mean that the architect is thus politically neutered, reduced to the role of court jester, telling stories of impossible urban boroughs while the real city takes shape, a graph of nothing but the financial needs of absentee developers, hypnotized by fairy tales of a metropolis that can never be built?

[Images: From "The Celestial River" by CJ Lim/Studio 8 Architects with Maxwell Mutanda and Sarah Custance, from Short Stories].

Not at all: architects telling stories with and through complex spatial representations—rather than merely supplying construction documents—brings them into contact with all the arts and sciences that have always and already used the built environment as a framework for larger, abstract ideas. Architectural mythology doesn't cede anyone's right—or political ability—to change the city, any more than cinema, games, music, poetry, or narrative fiction might do, despite fundamentalist claims that these operate as nothing but middle-class distractions; in all cases, these and other speculative entertainments are often precisely the reason why new visions of human community, spatial justice, and cathartic well-being arise in the first place.

Of course, spatial tales will inspire some people simply to daydream, but that hardly sabotages architecture's undeniable power to push others to pursue, with great fervor and enthusiasm, the means of seeing such strange and hallucinatory sights someday come true.

Science fiction is no substitute for science itself, but it is a valuable, if not conceptually indispensable, tool for generating, discussing, and communicating often radical ideas.

And the same is true for architecture's relationship with architectural fiction: thankfully, the latter will not replace the former—but, again, that's not its point.

The point of "combining place and fiction," as Short Stories describes it, is not so that we can sit around infantilizing one another with fairy tales, treating the world as empty spectacle, but to reveal, through projects of great imaginative power, that another world is possible, and architects have a unique ability to chaperone this future earth into existence.

Canal Street Cross-Section

[Image: From Canal Street Cross-Section by Alan Wolfson].

Alan Wolfson's Canal Street Cross-Section, a miniature depiction of the New York street and subway station, will be on display this summer as part of the forthcoming group exhibition, Otherworldly: Optical Delusions and Small Realities, at the Museum of Arts & Design in New York, starting 7 June.

[Images: From Canal Street Cross-Section by Alan Wolfson].

Wolfson explains that he "wanted to build a piece that resembled a core sample of a city street. As though you took a street, dug it up, and lifted it straight off the earth."

The resulting urban core sample has the look of a toy oven or vending machine—as if, in the latter case, we could someday just a few quarters into a streetside machine and walk away holding complete miniature rooms, intact down to their ads and posters, extruded from some kind of self-replicating master-model.

[Image: From Canal Street Cross-Section by Alan Wolfson].

"The problem," as he explains it, "was to make all that architecture work together and make sense visually. I was able to do that by having windows on the sides of the piece to accommodate the cross views. I gave the subway platform a sense of depth by using a carefully placed mirror at the far end. As with almost all of my projects, the sight lines were critical." The piece, we might say, required a kind of Piranesian optical correction so that all its cross-angles and counterviews could be spatially comprehensible.

You can see many, many more photographs of Canal Street Cross-Section over on Wolfson's website, as well as dozens of other, often quite incredible "miniature urban sculptures," as the artist describes them.

(Spotted via Thomas Pollman and Joe Alterio; earlier on BLDGBLOG: Romecore).

Classic Style on a Windy Day

I saw this stunning woman by 5th Avenue and asked if I could take her photo. The last couple days have been very windy in New York, but that doesn't stop the advanced style set from dressing up. I asked the lady above if she had any style tips to share and her advice was, "Stick to the classics. You can pair amusing accessories with classic clothing."