Central Park, eight o-clock this morning. The haze already building for a steamy ninety-plus day.
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Author: Roger Whitehouse
The cultural differences between the UK and the US still astound. On recently visiting London, I noticed that Charles Jencks’ new book, Iconic Architecture, was bedecked not with mouse architecture as in the US (Frank Gehry’s Disney thing in LA), but with a highly amusing and pyrotechnic rendition of Norman Foster’s St. Mary Axe building in London, (known as the erotic gherkin to Brits) about to go into orbit. Are we in America taking ourselves too seriously? As a book designer among other things, I am sad that Rizzoli could not entertain such an entertaining (and Iconic) cover here. (On the subject of two cultures divided by a common language, gherkin in English translates to Pickle, like the thing you put in sandwiches, in American.)
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An Even Bigger Bite
Having given up on the possibility of a timely replacement for my old G4 Titanium Powerbook, I decided to order a Mac Mini as a stopgap. Of course, sods law had it that two days after the order went through, Apple dropped their prices. Imagine my delight on getting an email from Apple (via MacMall) telling me that as the special configuration unit had not yet been put in the pipeline, they had cancelled my order for me and re-ordered it under the new pricing structure. A saving of one hundred bucks. Yeah Apple. Thank you Uncle Steve.
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A New Slant On Graduate Centres
This refurbishment and addition to an old lockkeeper’s cottage by Surface Architects, overlooking Regents Canal in Mile End (in the East End of London), houses a graduate centre for Queen Mary University of London. As the new structure wraps around the old rectangular brick building, both elevation and plan eschew at the same time either the horizontal, axis, or any reference to the prevailing geometry of the environment. I think it was Steve Martin who said writing about music was like dancing about architecture. However, dancing was never my forte, so words, absurd as they may be, will have to do. Despite my raised eyebrows at the cursory dismissal of gravity or the horizon as an orienting influence, I cannot help loving this building (seen to date only in photographs). But as far back as the discussion now goes, (way into the Eighties, I think) I still find it difficult to unreservedly admire the perversity of the geometry.
After several hours mouse-wrestling on the web with increasing frustration, attempting to book a flight to the UK, hire a car, and order some Epson inks and paper, I was lacking in faith as I began a search for some cardboard packing boxes. Then I ended up on the Uline site. This is not a site to win trendy design awards, which is a pity, because functionally it is one of the best designed, everything-is-where-you-might-expect-to-find-it, exactly-the-information-you-are-looking-for, most intuitive sites I have ever had the pleasure to visit.
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Mosquitoes
mosquito-kill-net.com
Been away for a while. Back again, but itching like crazy. Now here’s the thing. How come we end up with half our mosquito bites in places (no need to go into details) that have got to be utterly impossible for mosquitoes to ever get to? Well, I have a theory. If you look carefully, you will see that the so called “bite” marks are not all identical, and they always seem to come in pairs. I think the little bastards are tunneling. There is no other possible explanation for them ending up where they do. What we are looking at are entry and exit wounds. And the problem is, all this oil of citronella and other crap we rub on to stop them is just making it easier for the little buggers to squeeze in and out. Wouldn’t be at all surprised if the pharmaceutical giants weren’t behind this.
There are so many talented artists who go largely unrecognized by the public for no reason other than they have not managed to be at the right place at the right time. Jahee Yu is such a talent, and although she is hardly unrecognized (she has had or contributed to many major exhibitions in New York), her work is not as widely known as it deserves to be. Her iconic images explore multicultural faces and figures with an intensity that is both moving and at times haunting. Let us hope she is exhibited again soon. We will keep you informed.
saneihopkins.co.uk
In England, we call these things Wendy Houses, so named because Peter and the Lost Boys built Wendy a little house in Peter Pan. In the US they are rather unpoetically referred to as just playhouses. At least I think so, we built one for our daughter Amy, and we called that Amy’s house (although she only went into it twice and it now houses decaying headless Barbie dolls and crawly things with excessive numbers of legs). While usually an opportunity for unrestrained kitsch and revolting cuteness, I thought this example both witty and of considerable charm. Particularly gratifying is that it is in this year’s Royal Academy show in London, organized by my old flatmate Peter Cook, who has been encouraging some new and younger talent to submit projects. It was designed by Amir Sanei (who studied at the AA like myself) and Abigail Hopkins (who studied at Columbia, where I later went on to teach).
Their Website www.saneihopkins.co.uk
OK you guys, as an expatriate Brit I listen every year to all this independence stuff with resigned stoicism. But dare I say we’re not the only country with an embarrassment called George. Barking madness is not confined to the UK, even mad cow disease has now been confirmed beneath these spacious skies. The thing that really gets me is that each year National Public Radio recites the Declaration and ends up sniggeringly with ‘on that day, George III entered into his diary, “nothing of importance happened today”‘. While we are on the subject of self-evident truths, how the hell did you expect poor old George to know that you lot had suddenly got all uppity. An MSN newsfeed? In fact he did not learn of it for several weeks until the first ship returned with the news. What he in fact wrote in his diary on that day was “Shit. I guess we screwed that one up royally”. What the hell. Happy birthday America. They can’t stay in power for ever.
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Midnight, 92nd Street & Amsterdam Avenue
Wednesday night. A screech of brakes, a thud, and then a young woman screaming. A yellow cab had struck her baby stroller in the crosswalk. A small boy, maybe three or four years old, naked other than for a diaper, was thrown over a hundred feet or so along Amsterdam Avenue to end up lying motionless in the gutter immediately below our living room window. Within ninety seconds, thanks to dozens of cell phone calls, three police cars and two ambulances had arrived. After about five minutes the paramedics revived the child whose cries were chilling but reassuring (although he did not appear to be able to move). Ten minutes later the vehicles sped off with sirens howling, leaving us and the assembled group of bystanders below wondering how tragedies like this come about.