5/23/12

The air is dry here, it smells like smoke. A mountain is burning 30 miles away and the sky last night was orange-red, like the earth had been sucked up there somehow. It feels like ages. Nothing could be so distinct as the Texas sun except, perhaps, the profundity of the New Mexico landscape. It seems to boggle the mind with intensity and far-reaching power. I’ve been in Marfa and now find myself in Silver City, New Mexico. I’m sunburned. In a way I hadn’t ever experienced before. Like I’m soaking up Iron ore, directly into my skin. Yesterday at daybreak i drove up to the Gila Cliff Dwellings of the Mogollon and 10,000 years of travelers before them. It’s a place that I feel a great awe and reverence for. It exists between architecture and landscape. The village inhabits an active geological formation, made initially by volcanic eruption and then chiseled away by water to form undulating, concave eddy pools of “Gila Conglomerate” rock. The Mogollon created enclosed dwellings inside these formations, and their village in the rock is one of the great works of architecture I have yet seen.

Read More

Text —
23629096163




Esherick house and Studio

Esherick house and Studio



New video work for Steelcase 100 Dreams






Morelondon

Morelondon


Reblogged from shapeshifting


"

In the center of Fedora, that gray stone metropolis, stands a metal building with a crystal globe in every room. Looking into each globe, you see a blue city, the model of a different Fedora. These are the forms the city could have taken if, for one reason or another, it had not become what we see today. In every age someone, looking at Fedora as it was, imagined a way of making it the ideal city, but while he constructed his miniature model, Fedora was already no longer the same as before, and what had been until yesterday a possible future became only a toy in a glass globe.


The building with the globes is now Fedora’s museum: every inhabitant visits it, chooses the city that corresponds to his desires, contemplates it, imagining his reflection in the medusa pond that would have collected the waters of the canal (if it had not been dried up), the view from the high canopied box along the avenue reserved for elephants (now banished from the city), the fun of sliding down the spiral, twisting minaret (which never found a pedestal from which to rise). On the map of your empire there must be room both for the big, stone Fedora and the little Fedoras in glass globes

"

Italo Calvino - Invisible Cities, p. 32