Architecture Monday

There’s something quite appealing to me about the “simplicity” in this house design, with its solid, board-formed concrete base topped with an airy wood top that’s entirely ringed with windows.

Though the base is created in concrete, there’s plenty of openings, some with a perforated concrete screen, and similarly though the upper story is all windows, each has a shutter as well.  The mix of the concrete base, wood mid, and steel roof all are well proportioned and pair well into a most pleasing combination.

Oh, and it’s got a two-story courtyard down its centre, because apparently I am very much on a courtyard kick right now…

Unfortunately there aren’t too many photos of the inside that show the gamut of different spaces that the plans hint at, so we have to let our imaginations fill out what’s just offscreen.

On the whole, solid work!

House on Lake Zell by Steiner Architecture f/f

Philosophy Tuesday

Transformation is a bit like folding space (in the science fiction faster-than-light travel kind of way).  It isn’t about changing something, it isn’t about shifting our views, it isn’t about moving things around.  Instead, it’s about opening up and broadening our (accidentally already limited) view to wide new vistas, and then creating a new way of being to live into.

Note that, in that moment, our circumstances don’t change.  We’re still the same person and we’re in the same situation and we have the same trials and tribulations and conditions and events and all of that ahead of us.

But, because we have shifted our view and, more importantly, who we are being, not only does our experience of life change – Actually, let’s pause here for a moment, because to be honest that is really important!  Our experience of life is in some ways everything, our experience of life is what we’re here for!

Getting back to it, not only does our experience of life change, but so to do our capabilities change.*  We approach things differently.  Our options expand.  Our agency and confidence grow.

While we face the same circumstances, everything feels and even seems different.  We step into paths that might never have even occurred to us before.  We travel towards those things in life which we all want.

Which in turn boosts our experience of life even more.  Joy, love, fulfilment, comfort, security, and peace of mind, all available to bask in.

 

* Our capacity doesn’t change… it already was pretty darn unlimited, we just had erected barriers in front of it.  With those barriers gone we can do the work needed to step into and develop our capabilities.

Architecture Monday

There’s a couple of reasons to love this former power plant in the heart of London.  The first is the building itself, majestic, assertive, and positively iconic in all of its art deco glory (especially so from its use on the cover of a Pink Floyd album).

Sweet design with sweet detailing, and a great reminder that even industrial buildings warrant great design for those who both work within and live around it.

The second is the amazing mixed-use adaptive reuse of the building that was recently completed.  Retail and office spaces use most of the space within, including the cavernous turbine and boiler halls, while residential lines the periphery and, with a remarkable flair, as new glass and steel boxes set delicately atop the existing brick base.  Well-proportioned and taking cues from the existing conditions, the new apartments compliment the original design very well.  A trio of linear gardens join also the residences atop the building.

Even the old control rooms were given a chance to join in the fun, handsomely restored to their glory.

Reading up on the history, after the station was decommissioned there were some unfortunate twists and turns and false starts that resulted in a long dormancy and the whole thing falling into disrepair.  It’s fortunate and great to see this new form come to fruition, restoring the landmark design while also providing a great mixed-use addition to the neighborhood.  And it’s adaptive reuse, so you know I have to love it.  Great stuff.

The Battersea Power Station, originally by Giles Gilbert Scott, and one of the largest brick buildings in the world.  He also designed the Bankside power station, also the site of an amazing adaptive reuse into the Tate Modern art gallery!  Adaptive reuse design led by WilkinsonEyre (more pictures, videos, and historical photos at their site — and check out the jaw-droppingly interesting Chimney Lift, an elevating glass room the size of the inside of the chimney that emerges to give 360 views, wow).

Philosophy Tuesday

The other evening I was speaking with a friend, and I brought up something about shame.

Or, at least, that’s what I was trying to do.  Instead, I misspoke and instead of shame what came out of my mouth was “Shane.”

Which, in of itself, was a bit funny.  But then I envisioned this guy Shane, leaning against the wall in the corner, dressed in a to cool to care kind of way, theatrically shaking his head at me.  And in that personification of my shame, I found it completely hilarious.

And surprisingly liberating.  Or perhaps not so surprising, for I’ve seen a bunch of exploration and research lately about this approach of personification.  Mostly it’s where you end up speaking to those unproductive bits of yourself in the second or third person.  With Shane here it might be a bit different, as I’m taking whatever bits of shame I’ve got and sticking them into this Rando McRandomson dude in the corner that I might never talk to.  But it remains fruitful because I don’t need to talk to them.  Firstly, the humour of it all is enough to reduce the significance of everything – as Loretta Laroche would point out, humour in of itself can be excellent at knocking things back into perspective.  And secondly, that kind of random scorn from someone isn’t something I’d likely pay much attention to in the first place.  All of which interrupt any downward spiral and allow mindfulness to return and either complete things or bring them to a place of productive guilt.

Right on.  It was an inadvertent and complete slip of the tongue, but it ended up granting access to a whole bunch of space to live and grow, and a whole lotta peace of mind.

Architecture Monday

I live in a house that is sometimes known, fully tongue-in-cheek and delighted for the pun, as a “Likeler.”  That is, “like an Eichler.”  Eichler homes essentially defined the ‘California Modern’ house type of post-and-beam style construction, open floorplans, and access to light.

However, spend anytime in an actual Eichler house and the difference between them and my own is readily apparent.  The better design of an Eichler home is completely palpable.  The quality of the spaces and the connections between them, the connection between indoors and out, the play of light, all of those are often downright exquisite.

That includes one of the more common Eichler features, that of the private courtyard.  Sometimes bordering the front of the house, sometimes ensconced in the middle, this little garden could be seen and accessed from numerous places within the home.

These images are some mighty fine examples of the type.  They don’t really need much more description; their awesomeness speaks for themselves.  These are homes designed and built nearly 60 years ago, and their design still shines as an example… and, hopefully, as a reminder and lesson that great design is for everyone and ought to be afforded to everyone.

Courtyards of Eichler Homes, some designed by Robert Anshen as well as Claude Oakland & Associates.  Of note, Eichler also had an inviting and inclusive intent beyond the walls of the house – it’s pretty cool, read a bit more about their history here or here.

Philosophy Tuesday

“Everything I had thought was wrong.

Everything I had expected to see was wrong.

I had thought that going into space would be the ultimate catharsis of that connection I had been looking for between all living things—that being up there would be the next beautiful step to understanding the harmony of the universe. In the film “Contact,” when Jodie Foster’s character goes to space and looks out into the heavens, she lets out an astonished whisper, “They should’ve sent a poet.” I had a different experience, because I discovered that the beauty isn’t out there, it’s down here, with all of us. Leaving that behind made my connection to our tiny planet even more profound.

It was among the strongest feelings of grief I have ever encountered. The contrast between the vicious coldness of space and the warm nurturing of Earth below filled me with overwhelming sadness. Every day, we are confronted with the knowledge of further destruction of Earth at our hands: the extinction of animal species, of flora and fauna . . . things that took five billion years to evolve, and suddenly we will never see them again because of the interference of mankind. It filled me with dread. My trip to space was supposed to be a celebration; instead, it felt like a funeral…

[Seeing our precious earth from space] can change the way we look at the planet but also other things like countries, ethnicities, religions; it can prompt an instant reevaluation of our shared harmony and a shift in focus to all the wonderful things we have in common instead of what makes us different. It reinforced tenfold my own view on the power of our beautiful, mysterious collective human entanglement, and eventually, it returned a feeling of hope to my heart.

In this insignificance we share, we have one gift that other species perhaps do not: we are aware—not only of our insignificance, but the grandeur around us that makes us insignificant. That allows us perhaps a chance to rededicate ourselves to our planet, to each other, to life and love all around us.

If we seize that chance.”

William Shatner