Architecture Monday

Now this is just lovely.  A little cabin by the water.

From afar, it may appear as ordinary as any other… but look closer.

Certainly the brightly coloured walls are somehow different, in a way that creates some nice shadow play.

But look closer still… why, those are gaps between the studs that make up the wall!  All delightfully angled to let in light and views while sheltering those inside from most angles.

Cap it all off with some mighty fine detailing and you have one wonderful piece of work, a quiet place for contemplation and camaraderie.

The Badehus by Handegård Arkitektur

Philosophy Tuesday

In life, when something (usually unexpected) pops up, there’s two ways we can proceed:  we can react, or we can respond.

They may sound the same, but they are different.  A reaction is an automatic impulse that usually is aimed directly back at the incoming force.  It, at best, resets the situation.  At worse, our automatic flailing further mires us or even might make things worse.

To respond, however, is to take what’s coming in and move it where we want it.   We listen, we engage, we reflect, we direct, and we bring it to a place of resolution.  In responding we have both agency and flexibility.

Perhaps the best way I got to experience this difference – and thus learn to distinguish them for myself – was through Sifu, especially through our push hands exercises.  With an incoming force, to react is to resist and push back.  Again, at best this might stop the incoming force, resetting the situation and allowing things to start anew.  More often than that, however, reacting causes us to stiffen or to overreach, leaving us spent, off balance, and open for an exploit.  And against someone with good sensitivity (ie, someone who is trained in responding), our reactive energy can even be used against us.

But when we learn to respond, an incoming force is not a crisis.  It is just an incoming force.  We can feel it, sense it, know its direction, know its intent, recognize what could be done, and then guide it to a place of safety – or beyond, harnessing it for our advantage.

No surprise, so too it goes in our lives.  With mindfulness and practice* we gain access to the beauty of responding.  A world of equanimity opens up, and with it the ability to create outcomes that empower and enliven ourselves, those around us, and the community at large.

 

* Especially in dealing with and doing the work to remove our “buttons” and worries and concerns and etc that have us freak out or get defensive, things that very much almost force us to react forcibly…

Architecture Monday

This was a conceptual model for a speculative master plan in South Korea.  It’s definitively got some ‘first draft’ vibes, but it’s an intriguing concept.  Rather than units being blocked in on three sides with a single (often narrow) view out, take a courtyard building (perhaps a bit akin to BIG’s 8 House?), with each side one unit thick laid lengthwise, and pull it upward.  The funky bits protruding out is embellishment, but the core is living units that have cross-ventilation and light on two sides, as well as visual connection to all the other units to create a stronger sense of place than a typical high-rise corridor.  And with just a bit of platforming, you could have a gaggle of sky gardens too.

While there would be plenty to do to get it all ironed out (or to see if it breaks in some way), it’s still a starting point as something interesting to ponder.

Project R6 by REX

Philosophy Tuesday

The word competition comes from the Latin, competere, which means (according to etymology online) to “strive in common, strive after something in company with or together,” or, in the classical Latin, “to meet or come together; agree or coincide; to be qualified.”

And… wow.  That seems so much more expansive than how that word is normally used these days.  To strive together.  It isn’t an individual thing, and the outcome isn’t intended to be just an individual thing.  It’s about us all pulling together to attain new heights.

There’s no better reminder of this, in a very literal way, than perhaps the feel-good moment of 2021 when Mutaz Essa Barshim and Gianmarco Tamberi shared the gold medal at the Olympics:

What’s even better is that they are good friends.  They’ve been competing for years.  Striving together, pushing themselves and those around them to aim high and see what they can do.  Sometimes one did better than the other, and vice versa.  They had fun with it.  They were competing to get fit together.  And you can hear in the interviews above how excited they were for how well the entire field was jumping.

All culminating to that moment where they gifted to us such unbridled expressions of joy.

Architecture Monday

An amazing set of photos by Xavier de Jauréguiberry of the amazing Phillips Exeter Academy Library.  This one is a classic, an amazing combination of geometry, proportions, materials, and light to create this remarkable spatial experience.  I also love how understated it is from the outside – striking in its own way for sure, with its intriguing with its heavy load-bearing brick construction and classical regularity that gives the impression of a stacked series of arcades (almost coliseum like?), which is further enhanced by the actual arcade at its base and that open-air bit at the top. But within this smooth exterior is the explosion of space at its centre, with circles meeting squares, with concrete meeting wood, and with light diffused into an ephemeral glow via a heavy structural frame.  And the ancillary spaces are done with equal care and precision.  Exquisite work.

The Phillips Exeter Academy Library by Louis Kahn.

Architecture Monday

Presidential libraries are an… interesting conceit.  This new design for the upcoming Teddy Roosevelt library caught my eye however, for the way it tries hard to not catch the eye.  Trying to capture his love of landscape, the library nestles itself into a landform.  It’s not trying to pretend it’s a natural hill, but rather complement them while providing porches and perches to view the so-called “badlands” of nearby Teddy Roosevelt National Park.

The whole project really needs to be seen in terms of context of its site plan, with paths and follies that dot the landscape, connected to trails and sweeping elevated boardwalks.  Not to mention the green roof which becomes a path in its own right, and the material palette of engineered wood and lovely rammed earth.

Perhaps it’s not surprising that I would love this, given how much I’ve gushed in the past about its architects, Snøhetta.  Who are no strangers to libraries both epic (Library of Alexandria) and integral (Calgary Library), nor strangers to working to engage the wonders of the site around them (such as with their cabins or the theatrical Under).

Sweet work.  The Teddy Roosevelt Presidential Library, by Snøhetta.