December 2009
2 posts
Project #5: Lock Building
The project is a study of movement in architecture. It is not about bodily passage, virtual transformation, or implied structural forces, but rather movement in time and space, actualized mechanically.
August 2009
17 posts
A long conversation unfolds from unbounded ribbons of red brick, greenery, and wishful thinking Held loosely by a shared interest, two strangers walk and talk together while learning only about themselves.
“Weiss said that the medal ceremony for the 800 would take place as scheduled on...”
– NYTimes 8/20
“For a generation that is, courtesy of the Internet, both disconnected from and...”
– NYTimes 8/13
A Thousand Plateaus: #6
An audience of young people. A crowded if awkward accolade. Intense social acceptance followed by the lovely subway. Big dark halls, casual and anonymous relations with family. Up steps to an empty place, once built for crowds, now blackened in the corners by a few businessmen lying on benches and leaning over papers too dark to read. The religious debate, in actual time, the cleric defeated but...
July 2009
29 posts
Best Cover Letter Ever
To Mr. Cave [publisher of “Gentleman’s Magazine,” a sort of Georgian Esquire]
Nov. 25, 1734,
Sir,
As you appear no less sensible than your readers of the defects of your poetical article, you will not be displeased, if, in order to the improvement of it, I communicate to you the sentiments of a person, who will undertake, on reasonable terms, sometimes to fill a column.
His...
“Once Ms. Zhao had agreed to collaborate with her son, empty her home and...”
– Holland Cotter, NYT
You wake up one morning in a strange room. You see a gray and opaque velveteen curtain blotting out what must be morning light. The mattress you are lying on is on the floor, there is a child you don’t recognize lying on the floor using a backpack as a pillow. Getting up, halfway, you see a woman on the bed next to you. You don’t recognize her either, but she looks at you as though you...
After painting through the night she sat on a bench in Prospect Park, a short climb from her studio. A witness to the quiet city in the clean and just light of the early morning, that chiseled out the slabs of the statehouse dome, that propped and polished its white stone walls, she could hear the freeway, far away, and bird noises.
“What makes the pain we feel from shame and jealousy so cutting is that vanity...”
– François de La Rochefoucauld
A Thousand Plateaus: #115
One million years in the future, in a largish room, lying prostrate on a belabored futon, Francois opens his eyes for the first time in five hours. He sees daylight casting through venetian blinds and resting on his arms and legs in bed. He notes a stranger on his ribs— a greasy hand, fingers curled, a child of bones and wrapped in skin. And then The Trail of Hairs, sad black ones, walking a...
There was an old married couple that had been together for forty-two years. They would do all their errands together, they would drive to the store together. One day the old woman was walking around the back of the car while the old man sat with his hands on the steering wheel. Another car was trying to get by so the old man backed up the car, not realizing his wife was standing directly behind....
Into the Night- Angelo Badalamenti w/ Julee Cruise
“The outlines of the miraculous story of how one teenage girl, a French citizen...”
– NYTimes 7/01
A Thousand Plateaus: #53
When it’s hot, a child decorates its bed.
When it’s hot, a Frenchman moves his mouth.
When it’s hot, the table wants its match.
When it’s hot, the mirror shows his age.
When it’s hot, two points congratulate.
When it’s hot, the fool knows how to dress.
When it’s hot, breasts get sweaty.
June 2009
40 posts
