As we continue our stay in Buenos Aires, we are spending our time in avid exploration of the city. Traveling around both on bike and on foot, we have become captivated by the architectural expression of the sides of apartment buildings.
Most apartment buildings have the footprint of a long rectangle. The short side faces the street, and the long side extends back from the street. For the long sides of the rectangular volume, there are typically two or three vertical cuts. These cuts are made to give light and ventilation to the apartments that do not face the street. What has focussed our attention is the sculptural manner in which these vertical cuts are made.
The cuts are typically very wide at the top of the building, and they narrow the lower they are. The wider opening at the top brings as much light and ventilation as possible into the lower apartments. The visual effect, once you tune into it, is very powerful and aesthetically pleasing.
You can see similar vertical cuts in the sides of apartment buildings in, for example, NYC. Yet these are always straight vertical shafts with no stepping.
As the four photos show, there is a wide variation in the geometry these forms. The stepping of the cuts is typically not symmetrical. That is, one face is typically not the mirror image of the other face. The juxtaposition of how the cuts widen from side to side gives an amazing sculptural and organic quality to what are very ordinary buildings. The best ones have a ziggurat quality to them.
The sketch below uses this geometry as a jumping off point for a possible architectural form.
Yesterday in Buenos Aires, we had another out of this world architectural experience. This time, it was at the Chacarita Cemetery. In our travels, we enjoy visiting cemeteries, given their very pure layouts and designs.
After you enter thru a very well done neoclassical building, you are deposited in sectors of mausoleums, which were built in the late 1800s. This section of the cemetery is a design wonder in and of itself. Each mausoleum tries to outdo the other. Our joke was that the best way to take it with you is to build yourself an expensive burial chamber designed to out do the ones next to you.
Then you see what at first glance appears to be a vast, open plane, with low modernist structures and elements dotting the landscape.
As you start to traverse this plane, you realize that there are multiple levels of burial crypts below. This is what is called the Pantheon. This was built in the early 1940s. Long, rectangular openings are cut into the plane, which bring light into the levels below. You descend staircases, which allow you to then wander thru the vast lower levels. It is a very powerful architectural expression and experience. It is as if the visual world has been reduced to nothing but mass and light. It is pure archetype. We spent nearly 2 hours in fascinated exploration.
As we researched the history of the cemetery that afternoon, we realized that the Pantheon was designed by a woman, architect Itala Fulvia Villa. This was another stunning realization. She was Argentina’s first female architect. Based on our research so far, it seems that she studied with LeCorbusier.
Our photos do not, of course, capture in any way the profound experience that the cemetery induces. The website titled Sexto Panteon has very nice aerial views, with an aerial video. It also has floor plans and sections, as well as interesting features such as descriptions of some of the caretakers of the Pantheon.
After an experience like this, you wonder why a design with this power is not included in the run of the mill architectural history books that they tell you to read in school. Our predisposition to worship culturally approved icons, I guess, precludes excellent pieces like this.
We have had similar revelatory experiences in cemeteries. The Poblenou Cemetery in Barcelona is an experience unto itself, with the above ground burial niches extending to what appears to be infinity.
We finally made it to Granada, Spain, last week, to see the Alhambra. This has been on our travel list for a long time. Or ever since Jack Wells, our architectural history professor, raved about its cultural importance in history class. It truly was a magical experience.
Very briefly, the Alhambra is regarded as one of the most complete expressions of Islamic architecture. Construction began in 1238 and continued for around 100 years. Much of the architectural experience is the result of the fantastic geometric detailing of the interior. In the early Middle Ages, the Islamic world was the center of scientific knowledge. The geometric intricacy of the tile patterning and plaster surfaces bear witness to this superior technical knowledge.
The mexuar, or council meeting hall, shown above, contains many interesting geometric designs, mostly in tile, and some in wood. We took both overall and close up photos of the variations of the tile patterning. Repeating geometric patterns are the basis to these designs, and while drawing the next morning, it became apparent that the underlying geometric constant of this particular pattern was the triangle.
To illustrate this triangular geometric organization, consider our line overlay of a detail of the wall, shown below. The red triangular lines demonstrate the primary large scale geometric divisions. The green and purple lines address the triangular divisions at smaller scales. The arced orange lines always start and end at a triangular locus. The smaller hexagonal shapes, also composed of triangles, spring from specific points on the arcs. So while the overall pattern is inherently pleasing and seemingly fanciful, this is because of a strict underlying, repetitive geometry.
Geometric overlay of wall tile pattern
The drawing below was generated the next morning. It is an exploration of the underlying geometric patterning. And it tries to extends that patterning in a Transparent Drawing manner in which movement is made toward holistic form.
We had a near religious experience at UNAM, or National Autonomous University of Mexico. The main campus, south of Mexico City, which is called Ciudad Universitaria, was built in the 1950s and was designed by Mexico’s most prominent 20th century architects and artists. It was declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 2007.
A classroom building lifted on pilotis, with free expanses of glass, fronted by greenery.
The term autonomous is key, as the university is separate from the State. The overriding mission is to train professionals to help benefit the wider populous with both art and science. To us at least, the pure modernism of the campus is in concert with the high purpose of the institution.
Modernist architecture, in the beginning, aimed to lift humanity. With belief in universal planning, architecture could shape society with improvements of how it functioned. Gone was the chaos of overlapping historical beliefs: all of that muddied the mind. The architecture wanted to solve problems that all humans share.
A basic language of modernism was developed, which included: –Pilotis: Buildings are raised above the ground plane on columns. You could then use the space under the building for pedestrians, vehicular parking, etc. –Open floor plan: With clear spans, the floors can be arranged according to the need of the user. –Inset Columns: Perimeter columns were inset, which allowed for a free arrangement of the windows. This increased the connection of the interior to the exterior. –Thin rectangles: Most buildings were thin and long, which increased utility, as well as interior / exterior connection. –Green Spaces: Open green spaces, with trees and lawns, unite buildings with nature.
The University City campus design adheres to all of the above, and more. The buildings, and the campus, are working in concert, in one language. It is very rare for there to be an environment on this scale which has such purity. Matera, Italy, is one. Machu Pichu, in Peru, is another. And here we have an environment, designed by artists and architects, that is of one belief. It is uncommon to be able to experience such holistic unity.
We spent over two hours walking around. We could have spent all day. All of the buildings were in active and enthusiastic use by students. Here is undiluted modernism, as it was originally conceived. And it is successful.
The iconic library, with the all encompassing mural, is on the left. Pilotis, meticulous detail, art, rich textures, and vibrant colors.An auditorium building, with a curved wall, is linked to a classroom building with bridges. And last but not least, a street view of the architecture building.
Well, actually it is not. But we feel that it could be.
We have been taking our bikes to different locations to ride. Recently, we have ridden in Nova Scotia, southern Vermont, and Ontario. Those are great places to ride. Still, when we get back from those trips and resume our riding in these parts, we always exclaim that Cooperstown could be a great cycling destination.
The rides that we take daily are amazing. The rolling landscape is incredibly beautiful. We ride past working farms. The villages are historically wonderful. There are lakes to ride past. You can put together rides that combine gravel and paved road surfaces. The seasonally maintained roads are great fun, and provide unique riding experiences. There are routes thru state forests, and many have equestrian trails that you can take a loop thru.
Another plus is the reduced traffic in these parts. Sure, sometimes, on back roads, you think, how can there be this many cars? But on the whole, and compared with the other destinations that we mentioned, we feel that the traffic quantity is less. And when you get on the back gravel roads, one car might pass you on a segment.
Anyplace that we ride typically has a brewery or two. So another amazing thing about this area is that, within say a 10 mile radius from Cooperstown, we have 6 breweries that we know of. At the top of our list is the Willow Creek Farm Brewery, on Bliss Gulf Road. There is also High Burl, Cooperstown Brewery, Council Rock, Red Shed, and Ommegang, which we designed!
So how do the rides around here work, and how could they be structured for visitors? The quick answer is, a million different ways. If you want to think about it in terms of valleys, there is, from east to west, the Elk Creek valley, Middlefield, Cooperstown, and the Hartwick valley. Then, there are the multitude of roads connecting the valleys, some of them paved, many of them gravel. We are still finding new roads, mainly gravel, to ride on. And we recently were taken on a great road ride using Edmeston as a backdrop.
Of course, there remains the iconic Cranks from Cooperstown by Dennis Savoie. That pioneering work is still referred to by riders. Now, over 30 years later, we have bikes that easily combine road surfaces: paved, gravel, trails, etc. This adds another dimension, all of which makes cycling around here even more compelling.
Other perks to cycling include the Baseball Hall of Fame and the Fenimore Art Museum. We rode our bikes this summer to a performance at the Glimmerglass Festival. The absolutely great Woodland Cycles, in Milford, helps visitors with any bike needs they may have. Most of the towns and hamlets have a store where you can get water, snacks, etc. We have the lake. If you want to camp, there is Glimmerglass State Park. This list of amenities is endless.
So, if you put all of that together, and offered this as a cycling destination, we would gladly drive say 4 hours, stay two nights in an air B&B, eat in local restaurants, shop on Main Street, etc., for the wonderful riding experiences that you get around here.
Now, if you’ve somehow gotten this far through this screed, you might ask, ok, so? It seems to us that there should be a website which summarizes this. When we go to ride in different locations, we are always looking for information on the web that shows routes, terrain, riding surfaces, and all of the amenities that go with a great cycling destination. So far, we have found a start to this on the web: –This Is Cooperstown: –Bikemap –Otsego County
How this might be put together and expanded, or if this direction even makes any sense, is certainly beyond the scope of this very, very schematic meditation.
Still, it seems to us that Cooperstown is (or could be) a great cycling destination.
Barns in Nova Scotia typically have a small appendage, which is located near or at the center of the longitudinal elevation. As we were riding our bikes thru the countryside, the preponderance of these small appendages became more evident. We ended up dubbing this typology Barnacle: Barn (Barn) + Acle (Appendage) = Barnacle.
We think that the function of the Acle must be entry, given that they are located in the center. Some are very small, like the top right photo. Others seem to have space for other needs. What continued to fascinate us is the: -relatively very small proportion of the Acle to the rest of the barn -the on center placement within the overall form -and the preponderance.
For barns in Otsego County, most Acles were added to the short end, were placed off center at a corner, and their function was for the milk processing equipment; they are called milk houses. Quite possibly, architectural historians have a name, or a word, for the Acles in Nova Scotia.
First, the Halifax Salt Shaker, and now the Nova Scotia Barnacle. Will there be any end to these architectural bon mots? If you happen to be reading along, you can only hope.
We just got to Halifax, Nova Scotia. And during our first bike ride thru the neighborhood we are staying in, a new housing typology, at least to us, came immediately into focus. This house form has the following characteristics: -rectangular plan -VERY low slope gable roof -the ridge runs transversely, rather than longitudinally -two story
The top left photo shows the purest example that we were able to find. And then, as the other photos show, there are all sorts of variations that have been applied, including: -front porches -back shed extensions -bright colors -stucco cladding -bay windows As the bottom right photo shows, the form lends itself to contemporary materials. In this cladding, it looks quite sleek and modern.
What we really like about the form is the efficiency. It is a sleek box with no wasted volume for the roof segment. We only hope that on the second floor, the ceiling follows the roof slope, rather than having the typical flat ceiling.
We did a brief search into Halifax housing types, and a compendium did not immediately surface. We are sure that historians have given this type a name. The basic form has the same purity of a New England Saltbox. So, we have given this typology the at least temporary moniker, Halifax Salt Shaker.
One of the instructions for our trek in Peru was to bring along sets of colored pencils and pads of paper for the local kids. We were told that we were going to stop by a school or two, so as to give these tokens of good will. Well, it turned out that most of the schools in the very small villages were open sporadically.
As we were resting right after lunch, there were a few children hanging around: their mom was selling her weaving nearby. So the idea occurred, let’s give the pencils and paper to these kids. Then Kurt said, let’s break out the pens and paper and start drawing! And that’s what we did. Our guide served as translator, and everyone got busy drawing the tent that was just in front of us. And as you can see, those are drawings with great knowledge. The drawing on the left even has, dare I say it, transparency!
The universality of drawing continues to astound us. As we get older, we all loose the innocent freedom that drawing offers. But who knows, with any luck, these kids will keep putting lines on paper with a pencil.
In our days in Peru so far, we have visited numerous Inca sites. Machu Picchu, of course, is the ne plus ultra of the Incas: it is truly a wonder. But there is a site nearby, named Wiñay Wayna, that to us at least, is just as captivating. Built in the 15th century, it is cut into the steep, concave hillside. The curving terraces feel as if you have been floated into space. The environmental harmony with which the Incas lived is manifest.
The purpose was agricultural, so the housing was for the middle class workers who tended the terraces. This is in contrast to the function of Machu Picchu, which was a palace for the king, which then excluded everybody else.
Wiñay Wayna is on the Inca Trail. And the only way to get there is on foot, up or across challenging mountain terrain. Which means that there are blessedly few tourists. Maybe the real reason we liked it so much was because there were no fleets of tour buses idling in a parking lot below.
One of the many delights of traveling is to become aware of vernacular building typologies. Many local building traditions can pass by unnoticed. Until you tune into them. Then you realize they are all over. Yesterday, upon landing in Arequipa, Peru, we were awakened to a delightful building tradition: let’s give this the inelegant name, Glass Box On Heavy Masonry. As the photos below show, the visual effect is stunning. Very light, glassy, and thin structures are built over massive concrete and stone buildings. These glass spaces function as living spaces, as well as the enclosure of stairways. And they are all over the city. The glass structures are wonderful to be in, as we have one on the roof of the Airbnb that we are staying in. These compositions are done surely without architects. Yet any one of these beat close to the heart of most any architect. The challenge is to be awake to the vastly rich and varied kaleidoscope of images that pass by.
