koolhaus and really bad window design

For the most part, I love the environment that surrounds me. That is why I started this blog. I decided I needed a place where I could be more expressive about the topic of place. I wanted to give myself a venue to discuss my surroundings and maybe learn a thing or two in the process. I realize I have learned less about my neighborhood than I anticipated and that I am more inspired by the people who surround me than the buildings I walk past.

The more that I think about it, I guess my love of physical place has never been about my adoration for the beauty of cornices and wainscotings or mullions and muttons or even the efficiency and effectiveness of architectural design. My interest always lies primarily in how architecture and interiors reflect the desires of the people who experience them. I am intrigued by why certain classes of people reside in certain types of houses—mostly the working class and their very charming worker cottages—and what this says about them and their values. I am enchanted by decrepit old buildings and the stories they tell, like the 100 year-old mai wah noodle parlor in Butte. In the kitchen of this noodle parlor, in front of the wok stations, are sunken divots of worn concrete where cooks once stood and tirelessly cooked noodle dishes. I like that place is not just about environment, but about people. I think the personal connection is sometimes missing in today’s discourse of architecture and physical place.

Design and architecture is about how people experience them. If we didn’t encounter and participate in our physical surroundings then we may fail to recognize the necessity of their presence in our daily lives. Sometimes I wonder if Rem Koolhaus designed the Seattle Public Library to illustrate the importance of architecture in civic buildings rather than just an ineffective deconstructionist building or developed his ridiculous “the generic city” theory to make people realize the importance of variety in city design rather than making claims that people are not loyal to place anymore. At least I hope that’s the case, otherwise…

What I’m saying here is that I realize structures are important, but I am more concerned about how they affect the people in and around them. I think that’s what I want to communicate about here as time goes on.

on uninspiring aethetics and undercooked eggs

This past weekend was really fun. movies, friends, food, it was nothing short of fantastic. friday night aaron and i saw noah baumbach’s margot at the wedding at the harvard exit. the film is beautiful. the colors are soft and marred, imperfect--the scenes remind me of yellowed photos from the 1970s. And the acting, the acting is so spot on that at times I found myself so uncomfortable I had to look away and remind myself I wasn’t part of it. it is in this unexpected beauty of perfectly acted scenes that one of the meanest movies either of us had ever seen unfolded. I loved it, but god was it awful watching nicole kidman's character selfishly tear apart everyone around her in a vain effort to hide her own insecurities. on saturday I waded through seattle’s first snow absorbing the essence of winter. i went to the u-district to bake cookies with anne and megan. It was so wonderfully warm and cozy making fudge and baking cookies while listening to christmas carols play in the background. in the evening i went with aaron to a housewarming for one of his good friends. the home being warmed is a perfect 1914 Craftsman Bungalow--it is absolutely amazing and I sincerely hope to have one like it some day. the house has so many fantastic characteristics that it is hard not to be envious--warm and inviting colors grace its walls, awesome craftsman features are ever present including the large, open living space perfect for entertaining. afterward, aaron and i joined a group of my friends for our annual christmas sweater party. i had so much fun with my friends, but i drank too much red wine leaving me in dire need of a restorative breakfast.

which leads me to my next item of business...you know those few places that are so unsettling you find it challenging to even be in them for more than a few minutes without feeling despair, dirty or filmy (as in dirty film from something like syrup all over your hands and face and pants), sad, scared, cold, isolated, filmy or just generally unwell? well, there is such a place and i hauled myself there for breakfast today. it is called smith, a capitol hill bar in seattle. what is so bad about it? well, for starters, it is vacant and cold. secondly, it has bad food. the fake lived-in aesthetic makes it wholly uninviting, but, what is more disturbing is that this poorly executed lived-in aesthetic is supposed to be enhanced by the various varieties of taxidermied fowl (that's right folks, think pheasants, ducks and cranes) hanging on the walls. i think, though, the saddest part of the atmosphere was the job it did on my appetite. even if i were feeling well and the food were better than it was, i wouldn't have been able to enjoy it anyway. the barely dead food (my steak was so scarily raw and my eggs disastrously undercooked) was made all the more inedible by the uncomplimentary ambivalent isolated stares of the dead birds mounted above me. gross.

thusly, here is my advice to you: don't eat at smith, and if you do grace it with your presence, don't expect to be comfortable. instead, i suggest you join your friends in old homes and talk about hardwood floors and then drink too much red wine and laugh to your heart's content. i think it is better that way.