Making Meaning

Andy warhol eating a hamburger:

By creating a four minute video of himself eating a hamburger, Warhol - among many other things - transformed an act of ordinary stature into something quite extraordinary.  It's been suggested that Warhol was mocking his status as a celebrity artist, but perhaps he was just showing us that no matter how hard he tries, he will never be able to create something that is not valued.  He consumes a hamburger, we consume his art; he is "famous," we equate his work with value.

But just how much can the value of an object be pushed? And once value is increased, does it not become that much more desirable? Is "high" art really just "low" art with a mislabeled price tag, sold to an unsuspecting public?

Monica Narula of Delhi-based Raqs Media Collective explored just this topic in a 2006  installation where viewers encountered a stack of postcards in a museum quality display case in front of a large sign reading "please do not touch the art."  The ordinary, unassuming postcard transforms into an object of desire - accessible yet inaccessible all at once.

My point in all of this is that the making of meaning can be more important than meaning itself.  An object is only as beautiful as you are led to believe.

Noncompliant LEED Building

Figure 1. Tie Dye Factory

You're In Boot Country Now, Son

Behold, a decorated suburban ranch building. It brings to the commercial strip a refreshing mash-up of dazzle camoflauge and country nostalgia, Boot Country is a western themed store specializing in cowboy boots & hats for suburbanite cowboys (a fascinating demographic). Nevertheless, we need more aesthetically experimental buildings such as this:

An example of well-designed cow patterning: a large centralized spot conveniently covers an unsightly vent.

A bit of the stylized cow patterning from the prominent front facade made its way to the side of the building as if to thank the curious onlooker for exploring the depths of the building.  This is the best vantage point to take in the diagonal "work" themed yellow-black striping.  The pattern is mirrored along the center peak of the gable roof, wrapping smoothly around the building without breaking stride. 

A nice roadside sign with typography that bends and curves to fit the shape of a boot.

Adventures at Carnival Island

Carnival Island has been open for only two months, yet is quickly becoming an iconic local establishment.  Locals may recognize the Carnival Island name as it was open in years past, however this year a greatly expanded menu has helped to create an entirely new experience.  What is most satisfying about Carnival Island is their commitment to the local community.  Nestled among car dealerships, community colleges, and big box retailers, Carnival Island's unlikely location is one of  it's biggest strengths.  The corporate office park like setting provides a convenient dining option for nearby businesses and students.  This summer, the restaurant plans to provide extended hours to serve a crowd of baseball players from nearby ball parks. 

The approach to Carnival Island is most deceptive. Things that will run through your head while navigating to this miniature sized carnival food eatery is: 1.) Google Maps have deceived me; 2.) Car salesmen must love carnival foods; 3.) The restaurant is desperately in need of a sign as big (or bigger than) their building. 

Ice cream stands have a long history of uniquely attractive aesthetics and Carnival Island does not disappoint.  The overall design of the building is just as unexpected as the eatery's location. It is essentially a mobile home outfitted with restaurant equipment and flashy decoration. A water theme dominates the design of the exterior: applied wavy water graphics (perhaps inspired by Cincinnati's official flag?), an offset steamboat paddle wheel-styled roof canopy, all surrounded by Boise State blue landscaping pebbles.

Alternative design ideas could have incorporated faux palm trees, and/or steamboat gothic extreme ornamentation.

And what about the food? I opted for the "Carnival Fries" because of their catchy name and the footlong hot dog sans chili due to the fact that I would be eating while driving (a tricky act made all the more dangerous due to the elongated size of my meal). I passed on the ice cream, which gives me a good reason to return in the summer.

All in all, Carnival Island - in all of it's authenticiy and mystique - has the potential to become a suburban equivalent of Los Angeles' famous Pink's Hot Dogs  What is needed is more experimentation with the menu, and an expanded identity (specifically it's signage & packaging is lacking).  If you're in southwest Ohio, check it out.

Carnival Island

Driving through a landscape of parking lots and aging big box retailers, I discovered utopia, otherwise known as "Carnival Island." Coming soon, some thoughts and images about one of the most bizarre places I've seen. In the meantime, enjoy these:

Slide the Slides for Free!

Chester Park was a late 19th century/early 20th century amusement park in Cincinnati, Ohio.  It featured a variety of spectacles ranging from a large man-made watering hole, horse racing tracks, and large victorian pavilions. Pictured below is a miniature railroad uncomfortably packed with eager pleasure-seekers.  Circling a large lake, the mini-train would pass by a replica of the Statue of Liberty (note its un-oxidized copper hue color). Ironically the park closed due to an unpaid water bill, and is now the site of the city's public water department (sadly, the miniature train no longer exists).

One of the most quirky attractions, pictured below, was a rather squat cylindrical building with a comparatively small stick-framed windmill attached purely for decorative pleasure.  Wrapping around this curious building was a two-story metal slide. The purpose of the building - aside from being an elaborate armature for a playground slide - is unclear.  

Going Gaga for Google

Google's recent announcement to install fiber optic cable systems in at least one American city has unexpectedly unleashed a firestorm of creativity from want-to-be towns of the future.  An entertaining 4 minute news segment from NPR reveals that aside from Topeka, Kanasas' name change to Google, Kansas, many other cities are desperately trying to get Google's attention.  From mock press conferences, to ridiculous publicity stunts, to catchy jingles, to parades; you name it, they've done it.

Quite frankly, we're envious of all the fun everyone else is having.  In response, we've devised our own plan (unofficially on behalf of Branson, Missouri. Their Chamber of Commerce can thank us later). Why Branson? Why not!? Architectural spectacles seem to be at home in Branson. A new city hall building will quite literally put them on the map.

It turns out, designing a Google-themed architectural monument is quite easy, as Google has already done much of the work for us.  First, our building is selected from a variety of pre-established templates.  The classic red map pin icon will do just fine for our project...

Next, we perform a simple Google Maps search for Branson, Missouri which effortlessly provides us what appears to be the towne centre.  Just like that, in 0.25 seconds, we have generated the site for Branson's new administrative headquarters.

And voilà, our building magically appears! It looks beautiful :) 

Branson's City Hall will have a commanding presence over the city below: a powerfully iconic building amidst one of America's greatest collections of iconic buildings.

Surrounded by the vast range of Ozarkian Mountains, only one question remains...when will the fiber optic cables be installed???

Mission San Xavier

The Mission San Xavier (c. 1797) is a fascinating place brimming with mystique and sacredness. Here, on the outskirts of Tucson, Arizona, water magically appears from the ground, a bizarre sight made bizarre-er while considering the geography of the water-starved American Southwest.  This Missonary was conceived by Jesuit outcasts from the Spanish Empire, yet was both constructed and attacked by native tribes, existing today as a case study in America's awkward multicultural history. (Appropriately, the Moorish style of Mission San Xavier is a mash-up of Islamic and Greco-Roman cultures.) Adding to our fascination of this place is the fact that no record of the building's architects and artisans exists.

Set in the middle of an empty desert-like landscape the building presented itself to bewildered roadtrip tourists with exceedingly too much to say.  So there we stood, gawking in stunned silence while sheepishly snapping digital photos of a place we knew we would never fully understand. Aside from the incredible story of this mission, what was most compelling to us was the combo of whimsical exteriors and mysteriously playful interiors.  Alas, some photos from Mission San Xavier...

Oversized curvaceous buttresses paired with a balcony containing a miniaturized colonnade exhibited decidedly post-modern characteristics.

Color on the exterior was limited to bright red decorative motifs above small punched openings in the facade.

The main entry was painted in an unexpectedly dazzling color scheme: something between M.C. Escher and Magic Eye Posters (a world-wide stereogram craze from the 1990's). 

Hallways were snugly fitted to the human figure, existing as secret passages bisecting the Mission's maze of rooms and levels. 

To our disappointment, the National Parks Service's HABS/HAER Program apparently beat us to the chase, discovering (and fully documenting) this building 70 years before we did.

An undeniably over-scaled gateway into an adjacent courtyard space on the Mission grounds left us feeling satisfied, yet somehow desperately wanting more.

The Ugly Ducking, Part II

The Ugly Duckling is a children's fairy tale written in 1844 by Hans Christian Andersen. The story is about being ostracized for (disagreeable) looks. It traces the life of a duck who, after spending years desperately trying to fit in, becomes suicidal.  One day while attempting to drown himself, the duck is attracted to his own surprisingly handsome reflection; an image not of a beautiful swan.  At its best, The Ugly Duckling is a story of transformation, revealing both the extreme hardships and joys of life. Yet, at it's worst, Ugly is a commentry on the shallowness of "image".  After all, the duckling never really did transcend his inability to cope with the world as an aesthetically unpleasing creature.  He simply evolved over time into a more socially beloved image.  Rather than teaching me to empathize with those less fortunate than me, Hans Christian Andersen has taught me that we all must all look appropriate to fit in with society.  

These themes play out in architecture just as much as they do in our lives.  The politics of taste are most prevalent in historic districts where everyone from preservationists to urban design review boards to gentrifiers and gentrifiees (?) have an opinion regarding the modernization of the city.  The Ugly Duckling suggests that over time, the ugliest object can transform into an object of desire.  This can occur either by retrofitting an "ugly" building to conform to "beautiful" buildings, or by being absorbed into the mainstream consciousness as a symbol of civic identity: something that was once ugly is now pricelessly iconic.  

We introduced this architectural version of the ugly duckling as a widly painted brutalist building juxtaposed with a traditional victorian home.  It attempts to fit in, while pretending to be something it is not. To take this idea one step further, I dreamt up a few variations on a vacation home. 

Figure 1. Pop-Brutalism. Here, a castle-like CMU block bunker retreat is covered in what can only be described as dazzle paint. Further detailing around the lone window suggests this otherwise serious building has a very loving owner. 

Figure 2. Floodplain Steamboat Gothic. An awkward building at best, this squat, yet top-heavy building dares floodwater to take it on with an aggressive saw tooth skirt.

Figure 3. Neo-Green challenges the idea of a green building by employing a sophisticated array of symbolically earthly ornamentation. From the stylized bushes atop a gable roof (the new green roof), to the fake ivy attached to a flower-patterned exterior wall paper, to the solar panel picket fence siding, this cottage screams, "I am mean and I am green."

All three of these curiously bizarre case studies empathize with the Ugly Duckling character. If built, they would surely never fit in with the other neighborhood homes. Would these obscure buildings eventually be embraced by the homeowner, the real estate agent, and the critic? Would their story have a fairy tale happy ending??

Postcards From the Future

A bit of nostalgic modernism from nearly fifty years ago to cheer up your day.

Figure 1. Executive Park Hotel; Atlanta, Georgia: here the power and authority of modernism leaves man feeling tiny, out of place, and desperate for a way out.

Figure 2. New York World's Fair, circa 1964: "The Equitable Pavilion, a contemporary open strecture located on the Pool of Inndustry, houses the famous Equitable Demograph, a 45-foot electronically controlled map of the United States. See for yourself America's growing population brought to life right before your eyes!"

Figure 3. A lake-side cottage for the future: Take note of the multi-colored speckled doorways. Also, tire tracks from vehicular travel to the motel have been painted into the scene.