The Land of the Rings

Artist Roy Prol take a look at Earth if it had the rings of Saturn.

Of Millenia and Mirrors

One simply does not study under the tutelage of one Professor Waldman without an appreciation for mirrors, specifically mirrors which reflect alternate realities, passageways, and other immaterial ephemera. So when Roosevelt University announces plans to construct a new building along South Michigan, I cannot but see the bi-colored and reflective glass as a large mirror, reflecting the city and heavens.

So what is the effect of such reflected glazing (referred to as "mirrors") on the city, and what does it say about the architecture it envelopes? In the mid-century, modernists were using glass in part for the purpose of mirroring the external world. Examples like Lever House and the Hancock Building used glass to immaterialize their buildings - by cladding the structure in mirrors, one could create the effect of transparency, the irony being they were so opaque one could not see 3/8" past the surface.

This implication is perhaps more revelatory than simply playing with reflections. Mirrors used to disguise the true shape of a building, or employed to visually trick the onlooker into believing the building is smaller implies an apologetic demeanor, as if to offer a feeble mea culpa to the surrounding urbanism for such an obviously intrusive and incongruous bit of fabric. If there is any merit to this argument (and a quick look at some of the early mirrored buildings finds a pattern of incongruity with their fabric), then one might argue that buildings (or their architects) are self-aware - and self-conscious. Look at high-rises and skyscrapers built in the last 15 years, and the self-conscious apologetics of mirrored glass disappear. In their wake are buildings that stand tall and proud, determined to make a statement of themselves amongst the milieu of other tall buildings (see aqua tower). However, one key element has changed - the height of the surrounding urbanism. No longer are these tall buildings the pioneers of their locations. Unless a building is going exceedingly tall, there is no longer an incongruity of urbanism, and tall buildings are allowed to flaunt thier style with reckless inhibition. Even amongst the tallest buildings, there are examples of a mixture of attitudes toward environments; Burj Dubai stands alone within its context. It's clad in mirrors yes, but its shape and the curvature of the glass minimizes the effects of mirroring, and the building is allowed to stand alone. Trump Tower in Chicago is a second example. This building (some have speculated its role as a precursor to the burj dubai, given a similar structural language and both designed by Adrian Smith at SOM) begins to mirror its surroundings and the sky, minimizing its impact on the landscape.Although located along the Chicago River just north of the loop, it breaks away from the other tall buildings of the city and stands alone, an effect exaggerated when approaching the city some 10-20 miles out. The Spire offers another example, as does the now-underway Freedom Tower in New York City, which perhaps does the best job of treading a fine line between apologetic mirroring and brazen statement.

No doubt there are other interpretations of mirrors and buildings. I would like to revisit the use of mirrors on many of the structures around Millenium park, from the Pritzker Pavilion to the Bean, to the mirrors found on the wet pavement at Crown Fountain. This picture begins to hint at the phenomenal possibilities of mirrors which provide a glimpse of another world beyond. Such an idea is not to be found in many of the mirrored buildings we see today, that try to hide themselves from view. Instead mirrors to the moon provide visual access to exciting alternatives, which can truly be experienced at eye-level.

[via rjseg1]

Good Grief.

Last week I took the El down to Belmont and made the short trip to Intelligentsia Cafe. I enjoy their coffee and an occasional baked good, and as there are always a few open seats I stay a while and read or sketch. I also enjoy the Lakeview neighborhood.

I believe that my mind is naturally tuned to "Good" places. I define "Good" as places that have many of the devices that make places livable, interesting, engaging, and livable. These are the neighborhoods that are always lively and filled with activity, the places one goes if they wish to people-watch, or are just out for the evening without plans to see a movie, play, concert, or other form of entertainment. Good places are entertainment. But they are so much more, and what they are changes from year to year, season to season, even hour to hour. Many people like Good places, and they flock to them for many reasons. I am trying to understand those reasons, and what effect the built environment has on the making of Good places.

I believe that the Lakeview neighborhood, specifically the Broadway-Halsted corridor between Addison and Diversey, is a Good place. Rather, they are made up of several Good places, placed in a line and connected by short lengths of less-good places. As a result much of my thinking on what makes Good places comes from the 5-10 minute walk between the El stop and the Coffee Shop. This is by NO means the best or only Good place in Chicago, but given the frequency of my trips for caffeine, I have certainly developed a bias.

My quest to find Good places has been going on for years, in one way or another. While I was studying in Paris, the purpose of my entire fellowship was to form a pattern-book of sorts, but over the length of my time in Paris, I came to realize that cities as a whole are much more nebulous; that Paris, or Venice, or Las Vegas, or Kandy, Sri Lanka, or New Orleans, or Chicago, do not have a singular language or set of patterns that make them Good. Each of them follows certain a certain dictum of form, space, and hierarchy, but these in and of themselves do not guarantee Good places. The answer is nebulous.

So I offer a change of direction. Instead of Good places, let's look at Good spaces. This is the built environment; the making of space, the articulation of edges, and the ephemeral thickness that exists between them. A scaffolding for Good places.