The first installment in Al Jazeera's six-part "Rebel Architecture" series is on Spanish "self-build legend" Santiago Cirugeda:
Tuesday, 19 August 2014
Monday, 18 August 2014
Today's archidose #776
Here are some photos of Farmville, under consruction in Paredes, Portugal, by AND-RÉ, photographed by José Carlos Melo Dias.
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Sunday, 17 August 2014
Book Review: Book Mountain Spijkenisse
Book Mountain Spijkenisse: Biography of a Building by Nicoline Baartman, Winy Maas
MVRDV/nai010 Publishers, 2013
Hardcover, 260 pages
Book-length case studies of buildings are great for giving more space than a monograph or magazine in explaining the history, design, realization, and in some cases post-occupancy of a particular building. But this type of book begs the question: Who writes it and who is it for? The first could be the architect (the most common), or perhaps the client, or even a freelance writer commissioned by one, both, or neither. And in most cases the answer to the second is "other architects." The answer to the first for this "biography" of MVRDV's Book Mountain in Spijkenisse, the Netherlands, is "all of the above"; and for the second it is "everybody."
[Photo: Jonas Klock/Flickr]
The library is part of a district in the admittedly unexceptional town of Spijkenisse near Rotterdam, which also includes residences designed by MVRDV (photo above). The project's evolution from a library into something larger is explained in the book, as is the history of the town, something that the hip-roofed form of the library taps into. What is most interesting about the book is that the story of the library is told in three intertwining ways:
1 - A narrative by journalist Nicoline Baartman,
2 - A photographic essay by Marcel Veldman,
3 - And a pictorial documentation by the architects.
Further, #1 and #3 occupy two sides of the same pages, as MVRDV's contribution is found entirely within gatefolds, in the vein of Diller Scofidio + Renfro's large book on Lincoln Center. Therefore one can read Baartman's text without ever encountering MVRDV's visual essay. Veldman's photos, on the other hand, happen in five spots spaced throughout the book on glossy b/w pages; they are hard to miss.
[Photo: Jonas Klock/Flickr]
The contributions are three ways of telling roughly the same story: painting a picture of the town and its people, describing the building, and speculating on the place's future now that it has this special library. The book therefore is greater than the sum of these parts, at least when readers take the time to read each piece or parts of each piece. Sure, there is some overlap in terms of what is learned, but these areas point to what is important, what it is about the place and the building that the architects and Baartman felt the need to discuss. As can be expected, I found myself focusing on certain parts and skimming others for both; MVRDV's visual history of the place does a great job of explaining Spijkenisse, as do Baartman's interviews with residents, particularly the ones she talked to inside the library.
[Photo: Jonas Klock/Flickr]
This experiment of sorts for telling multiple stories about a building is not the only one for MVRDV; they also created a "biography" of the Glass Farm, a similar forward-thinking/vernacular-formed building in Holland. Like the buildings themselves, the books have a strong public component, in that they strive to make architecture understood by a larger audience (the forms, and in the case of the Glass farm the graphics, make modern architecture easier to digest). I'm all for broadening architectural appreciation, without dumbing things down of course. Book Mountain Spijkenisse is commendable in this regard, and I hope other architects and publishers take note.
[Photo: Jonas Klock/Flickr]
MVRDV/nai010 Publishers, 2013
Hardcover, 260 pages
Book-length case studies of buildings are great for giving more space than a monograph or magazine in explaining the history, design, realization, and in some cases post-occupancy of a particular building. But this type of book begs the question: Who writes it and who is it for? The first could be the architect (the most common), or perhaps the client, or even a freelance writer commissioned by one, both, or neither. And in most cases the answer to the second is "other architects." The answer to the first for this "biography" of MVRDV's Book Mountain in Spijkenisse, the Netherlands, is "all of the above"; and for the second it is "everybody."
[Photo: Jonas Klock/Flickr]
The library is part of a district in the admittedly unexceptional town of Spijkenisse near Rotterdam, which also includes residences designed by MVRDV (photo above). The project's evolution from a library into something larger is explained in the book, as is the history of the town, something that the hip-roofed form of the library taps into. What is most interesting about the book is that the story of the library is told in three intertwining ways:
1 - A narrative by journalist Nicoline Baartman,
2 - A photographic essay by Marcel Veldman,
3 - And a pictorial documentation by the architects.
Further, #1 and #3 occupy two sides of the same pages, as MVRDV's contribution is found entirely within gatefolds, in the vein of Diller Scofidio + Renfro's large book on Lincoln Center. Therefore one can read Baartman's text without ever encountering MVRDV's visual essay. Veldman's photos, on the other hand, happen in five spots spaced throughout the book on glossy b/w pages; they are hard to miss.
[Photo: Jonas Klock/Flickr]
The contributions are three ways of telling roughly the same story: painting a picture of the town and its people, describing the building, and speculating on the place's future now that it has this special library. The book therefore is greater than the sum of these parts, at least when readers take the time to read each piece or parts of each piece. Sure, there is some overlap in terms of what is learned, but these areas point to what is important, what it is about the place and the building that the architects and Baartman felt the need to discuss. As can be expected, I found myself focusing on certain parts and skimming others for both; MVRDV's visual history of the place does a great job of explaining Spijkenisse, as do Baartman's interviews with residents, particularly the ones she talked to inside the library.
[Photo: Jonas Klock/Flickr]
This experiment of sorts for telling multiple stories about a building is not the only one for MVRDV; they also created a "biography" of the Glass Farm, a similar forward-thinking/vernacular-formed building in Holland. Like the buildings themselves, the books have a strong public component, in that they strive to make architecture understood by a larger audience (the forms, and in the case of the Glass farm the graphics, make modern architecture easier to digest). I'm all for broadening architectural appreciation, without dumbing things down of course. Book Mountain Spijkenisse is commendable in this regard, and I hope other architects and publishers take note.
[Photo: Jonas Klock/Flickr]
Saturday, 16 August 2014
Friday, 15 August 2014
Thursday, 14 August 2014
A New Harvard Design Magazine
It seems like it was just yesterday that Harvard Design Magazine (HDM) reinvented itself. Yet taking a look at their back issues makes me realize that the last reinvention took place five years ago. Now starting with its Spring/Summer 2014 issue, HDM has been "reconceived and relaunched with a new editorial and design approach," under the direction of Editor in Chief Jennifer Sigler.
Sigler says in her editorial intro (spread below) to the issue, which was handed out at the vernissage for the 2014 Venice Architecture Biennale (where I snagged a copy), that the magazine's new direction "invites 'reading' across disciplinary boundaries, and stakes out an expanded arena for architecture and design dialogue." These are boastful words that might ring hollow in today's saturated digital/print marketplace for architectural writing, except I must admit that I really like the new direction.
The issue's theme is "Do You Read Me?", a play on the phrase in radio communications "do you hear me?", and it's certainly a good question to ask. At its most basic, it asks the reader if he or she actually delves into the words or if they just look at the pictures. Furthermore, if they do read an essay, are readers getting the intended meaning? Or are they misreading the articles, yet still gaining something useful out of them, such as new ways of thinking about or looking at things?
In terms of what the issue makes me want to actually read, a combination of factors come into play: the length of the article (they range from one page to 14 pages); the size of the font (many of the pieces are in large fonts, much like many websites are rendered in the same for mobile devices, making them appear quite large on laptops and other computers); the page design (beyond the layout of images and text, the issue incorporates special, small-size, glossy inserts for four pieces, as seen in the bottom spread); and of course subject (more on that below).
Subject-wise, there's a lot of interesting things to be found in essays and interviews that expand upon what the editorial theme might actually mean: an interview with Peter Galison about "the architecture of air"; Jeffrey T. Schnapp's essay (spread above) on libraries as "warehouses of thoughts and things"; a long piece by Sanford Kwinter (I'm planning to read that on the train ride home this evening); Daniel Rauchwerger and Noam Dvir's piece on comparative analysis of "national libraries as knowledge icons"; K. Michael Hays and Peggy Kamuf's rereading of Jacques Derrida's "Point de folie – maintenant l'architecture," a 1986 essay on Bernard Tschumi's Parc de la Villette; and many more, as these are just a few among many. Yes, this is Harvard GSD, so the texts are scholarly, but nevertheless there is an effort to make things more accessible given the various contributors, lengths of article, design and so forth. Oh, and there's even a crossword puzzle on the last page.
Sigler says in her editorial intro (spread below) to the issue, which was handed out at the vernissage for the 2014 Venice Architecture Biennale (where I snagged a copy), that the magazine's new direction "invites 'reading' across disciplinary boundaries, and stakes out an expanded arena for architecture and design dialogue." These are boastful words that might ring hollow in today's saturated digital/print marketplace for architectural writing, except I must admit that I really like the new direction.
The issue's theme is "Do You Read Me?", a play on the phrase in radio communications "do you hear me?", and it's certainly a good question to ask. At its most basic, it asks the reader if he or she actually delves into the words or if they just look at the pictures. Furthermore, if they do read an essay, are readers getting the intended meaning? Or are they misreading the articles, yet still gaining something useful out of them, such as new ways of thinking about or looking at things?
In terms of what the issue makes me want to actually read, a combination of factors come into play: the length of the article (they range from one page to 14 pages); the size of the font (many of the pieces are in large fonts, much like many websites are rendered in the same for mobile devices, making them appear quite large on laptops and other computers); the page design (beyond the layout of images and text, the issue incorporates special, small-size, glossy inserts for four pieces, as seen in the bottom spread); and of course subject (more on that below).
Subject-wise, there's a lot of interesting things to be found in essays and interviews that expand upon what the editorial theme might actually mean: an interview with Peter Galison about "the architecture of air"; Jeffrey T. Schnapp's essay (spread above) on libraries as "warehouses of thoughts and things"; a long piece by Sanford Kwinter (I'm planning to read that on the train ride home this evening); Daniel Rauchwerger and Noam Dvir's piece on comparative analysis of "national libraries as knowledge icons"; K. Michael Hays and Peggy Kamuf's rereading of Jacques Derrida's "Point de folie – maintenant l'architecture," a 1986 essay on Bernard Tschumi's Parc de la Villette; and many more, as these are just a few among many. Yes, this is Harvard GSD, so the texts are scholarly, but nevertheless there is an effort to make things more accessible given the various contributors, lengths of article, design and so forth. Oh, and there's even a crossword puzzle on the last page.
