Posts Tagged ‘urban moments’
Posted in Architecture, art, Art Gallery, Ink, Jewelry, Pastel, Poetry, Sketchbook Exchange, Spontaneous Constructs, Writing, tagged Architecture, Bramante, city, Drawing, duomo milano, ink drawing, Milano, milano cafe, Milano Diaries, pio albergo trivulzio, santa maria presso san satiro, sketchbook, sketches, urban moments, Urban Sketchers, Watercolor, window on January 1, 2012 | 7 Comments »
Posted in Architecture, architecture, art,poetry,writing, Cures for the Nothing, Photography, photography, Poetry, Writing, writing, tagged 2011, bankers hill, blackout, caffe' letterario, city, espresso, Hillcrest, iniziative letterarie, José Luis González, La Noche que Volvimos a Ser Gente, people, Photography, Poetry, san diego, september 8, The Night We Became People Again, urban moments, Walking on September 11, 2011 | Leave a Comment »
It has been ten long days since my last post, ten days of travels, of letters written and not sent, of (re) search.
In the middle of it all, I experienced the ‘biggest blackout in the history of San Diego county’. Thursday, September 8th, 2011, power went off for millions of people in Southern California, Baja California and Arizona. No ATM’s , shuttered stores, nowhere to buy food or water in a world where, when the machines stop, the city stops. The blackout lasted for almost nine hours, from 3.30 Pm till just before Midnight, and it was all it took to plunge my two neighborhoods in an atmosphere that was at times apocalyptic, at others, surreal, magical, “european”. Beyond the novelty, even excitement, felt by some there were people trapped in high-rise elevators, in trolley cars over canyons, in mid-rise buildings without water. It was a time where everything stopped and a battery radio and candles (my only emergency preparedness) help whiled away the hours. It was a movie. And a dream.
Before I share what I have been working on in the past few days, here is my dispatch from the Blackout and some urban moments caught on camera.
Entre chien et loup is a multi-layered expression. It is used to describe a specific time of day, just before night, when the light is so dim you can’t distinguish a dog from a wolf. However, it’s not all about levels of light. It also expresses that limit between the familiar, the comfortable versus the unknown and the dangerous (or between the domestic and the wild). It is an uncertain threshold between hope and fear.
The night we saw the stars.
Full moon, venus, motherlight.
Flaws and flames
It is so quiet
we can hear ourselves
If the end of the world comes
I want you to know
We are fine.
Read ”La Noche que Volvimos a Ser Gente”or “The Night We Became People Again” by José Luis González, a short story on the big blackout in New York City.
If you are left with a battery powered CD player when the world ends- and speak italian- you could do worse than listen to Caffe’ Letterario.
Posted in Architecture, architecture, art,poetry,writing, digital collage, photography, writing, architecture, San Diego, school, School Work, Writing, writing, tagged Architecture, architecture is built politics, Award, bad urban design, bad urban spaces, Balboa Park, Boston SOciety of Architects, BSA, Choi+Shine, competitions, Downtown San Diego, electricity pylons, failed urban spaces, Farmers' Market, Gaslamp Historical Quarter, Horton Plaza, Horton Plaza fountainfenced, Horton Square, Ice Rink, Iceland, Irvin Gill, Italian cities, Land of Giants, loetering, Massachussetts Architecture and Design, Piazza, piazza design, piazzas, poetry of the unbuilt, public, public responsibility, public sphere, san diego, Signonsandiego, Steel frame poetry, Unbuilt Architecture Award, unbuilt poetry, urban design, urban moments, urban planning, wells fargo plaza, why public spaces fail, world architecture news, young designers on October 16, 2010 | Leave a Comment »
Choi+Shine, a Massachusetts-based design studio has recently received the Boston Society of Architects Unbuilt Architecture Award for their creative concept Land of Giants™, transforming the generic steel-framed electricity pylons across the Icelandic landscape into unique, individual humanised forms.
Read the World Architecture News article here.
In contrast to the poetry of the unbuilt, and whenever I see vision in design and architecture, there are the missed opportunities of the city around me. In my History of Architecture class I like to tell students that Architecture is built politics. By this I mean that the architecture of the civilizations we study, even the built environment around us, is the embodiment of a people’s values, belief system, socio-economic conditions (or agendas). Architecture can literally be considered ‘the body politik’.
During a recent conversation with a colleague the meaning of absence came up, that is, the absence of benches or piazzas in downtown San Diego. America’s Finest City enjoys the perfect temperate weather, is gifted with a beautiful natural setting, and yet its downtown does not invite enjoyment, people watching, outside of commercial establishment. This is a city that is, peculiarly, not urban at all, but fragmented, servile to cars, at times alienating. In the heart of its historical quarter, the Gaslamp, the city does not yield; no place to sit and pause to take it in.
There could be such place: Horton Plaza.
Horton Plaza/Fountain Side is a potential piazza whose use is twarthed by the deliberate use of ‘discomfort’ tactics: rough landscaping and the absence of benches, or seating at human-being level. I see tourists crouching down on curb edges everytime I walk by. There is a plan by the CCDC to ‘reenvision” the public park to make it more attractive‘.
Horton Plaza/’Farmer Market’ Side is an open space eager to be a piazza, yet at the stage of ‘Piazza. Interrupted’. Why? The absence of seating, appropriate lighting, or a focal point in this location (a fountain? a modern sculpture?) renders this an open space to be traversed as quickly as possible, day or night, where spontaneous gathering is not encouraged (except for the commercially-viable weekly Farmers’ Market half-days or the inescapable ritual of the holiday ice-rink).
But Horton Square has potential, at least it’ s not a permanently-in-shade, unusable ‘public space’ such as those found among high-rises in financial districts nation-wide. You know what I’m talking about.
Upon reading ‘ Why Public Spaces Fail’, it seems like San Diego has used this article as a blueprint to eschew its public responsibility and alienate the public sphere.
Of course anytime public space is brought up, the issue of the homeless is dragged out like a decaying corpse from the cellar, to once more make an appereance in trite arguments. The refrain goes ‘ We cannot have any public space in San Diego because of the homeless’. Meaning, if you build it, they (the homeless) will come. And we can’t have that. It’s as if the city, to paraphrase Ani di Franco’s words, instead of curing the disease, is bent on suppressing any evidence of the symptoms.
Of course we have the public, but touristy, Seaport Village and our cultural, manicured, Balboa Park. Both are not integrated with the urban fabric of downtown San Diego, that is they are destinations, not generators (can I say incubators?) of urban moments within the streets/flow of the city.
Balboa Parkis a wonderful (or maybe just pretty, depends on the days and my mood) public space, also designed by Irvin Gill, and yet it is a place apart, an idyllic, bucolic, museum-filled oasis . I have not tried to go there at night, but I suspect that, in addition to dangerous, the park closes at night (like most American parks, something that doesn’t happen for public spaces in Europe). There are no night activities encouraged in Balboa, except for going to eat at The Prado restaurant, which stops serving food around ten. This could also says something about San Diego early bird ethic, and limited vision when it comes to cultural events. Balboa Park could be made an integral part of Downtown by better, more frequent transportation and by its transformation into a cultural hub, with stores and museums open at night. There are already good news: the main plaza of the park, originally designed as a public space and made in recent decades into an ugly valet parking lot is to be restored to its original use (!!). San Diego will finally have a true piazza (hopefully with seating opportunities) and I for one plan to go there sketching as often as possible.
The lack of piazzas or urban public spaces is not of course a San Diego phenomenon, or a Southern Californian one, but a North-American one. Why criminalize the act of spontaneous gathering, why call it ‘loitering’? We do not have this word in the Italian language, not with the negative connotation. What else but healthy loitering and thinking is done in piazzas in Italy? We can speculate, get political, be conspiracy theorists. We could talk about the privatization of public space. We could wax poetic about missing piazzas and the public consciousness of European cities.
Or we could-maybe- all agree on the beauty of (un)built poetry.
Posted in art,poetry,writing, Coffee, Drawing, Poetry, tagged cafe de la presse, cafe', Coffee, coffee & culture, culture, Futo Coffee, graphite, ink, masking letters, moments of urbanity, newschool of architecture and design, pilot pen, san francisco, urban moments on November 19, 2009 | 2 Comments »
San Francisco – Cafe’ De La Presse
Legendary Literary Cafe’ a stone’s throw from the French Embassy. The staff’s uniforms were très French, the atmosphere European, and the cappuccino was ….flawless.
All photographs taken with Lumix (Panasonic) camera, Leica wide lens.
San Diego: Newschool of Architecture and Design – Cafe’ A la Carte
Bringing coffee, culture and ‘moments of urbanity ‘, as Francisco Sanin, a dear professor in Syracuse|Florence, used to say.
The passage/hallway is transformed in a piazzetta; Adam, the owner, strums his guitar, chats with customers.
Brings book such as ‘Reading Lolita in Tehran’, and Russian lit.
Naomi Shihab Nye
It was never too strong for us:
make it blacker, Papa,
thick in the bottom,
tell again how the years will gather
in small white cups,
how luck lives in a spot of grounds.
Leaning over the stove, he let it
boil to the top, and down again.
Two times. No sugar in his pot.
And the place where men and women
break off from one another
was not present in that room.
The hundred disappointments,
fire swallowing olive-wood beads
at the warehouse, and the dreams
tucked like pocket handkerchiefs
into each day, took their places
on the table, near the half-empty
dish of corn. And none was
more important than the others,
and all were guests. When
he carried the tray into the room,
high and balanced in his hands,
it was an offering to all of them,
stay, be seated, follow the talk
wherever it goes. The coffee was
the center of the flower.
Like clothes on a line saying
You will live long enough to wear me,
a motion of faith. There is this,
and there is more.