Categories
Architecture Poetry

What I’ve read lately

Research Driven Work : In Architect Magazine, Toshiko Mori,

Poetry, & Seeds of Deception

Too busy to think? It’s so easy to get in the groove, but so hard to get out of a rut.

I want my architecture to be smarter. I want to be an architect to come to with the best answers and a well thought out practice.

In an effort to live life to the fullest and have my everyday perceptions inform my work, a friend and I from architecture school are collaborating to do just that. The first thing we need is devoted time to thinking and a goal. So… stay tuned.

This article by Mimi Zeiger highlight’s a womans efforts to evolve research driven work in her own practices. Toshiko Mori is between many  practices including her own NY firm, Toshiko Mori Architect, teaching at the Harvard Graduate School, and her latest think tank, VisionArc. Isn’t she pretty?

VisionArc is a consultancy run in tandem with Toshiko Mori Architect, the practice founded by Toshiko Mori (pictured) in 1981. Mori also teaches at the Harvard Graduate School of Design and chairs the World Economic Forums Global Agenda Council on Design.

“Architects see spaces in plan, elevation, and section; we have a way of analyzing problems in a three- or four-dimensional way. We can slice through an issue that may not connect in plan,” Mori says.               I suggest reading the whole article here.

 

Poetry

Depending on the Wind by  James Galvin

.

Coloring Book
by Connie Wanek
Each picture is heartbreakingly banal,
a kitten and a ball of yarn,
a dog and bone.
The paper is cheap, easily torn.
A coloring book’s authority is derived
from its heavy black lines
as unalterable as the ten commandments
within which minor decisions are possible:
the dog black and white,
the kitten gray.
Under the picture we find a few words,
a title, perhaps a narrative,
a psalm or sermon.
But nowhere do we come upon
a blank page where we might justify
the careless way we scribbled
when we were tired and sad
and could bear no more.

Connie Wanek

 

Also, currently reading for the Environmental Book Club at the Schrader Center of Oglebay every third Thursday of the month: Seeds of Deception by Jeffry Smith

Categories
Poetry

Blues Fest Tear Down

Blues Fest Tear Down

All at once the wind came

the quick sudden change, shifting

a light grocery bag across the boardwalk

filling the sails of a four-poster tent

just beyond the reach to catch it.

Categories
Poetry

Birthday Girl

Birthday Girl

Deep room debate

silent adults sitting in a circle

hunched shoulder arena

nothing left to do

the birthday girl wants to leave

but no one else wants her to

so we all wait.

Categories
Poetry

People ways

People ways

How the sun must rise

red stone step

places to pray between rock and shadow

holy in our movement

we hear the faint sound

shut our eyes and keep our mind open

to boys who come from all directions

by the sound of their young voices

from the mountains they had come to sing

their oval mouths blossoming like spring.

What is at stake

taking in where you live or

living where it takes you as

traveling

opens your mind,

like seasons,

and touching nature.

Categories
Poetry

At the Edge

At the Edge

When at the edge of a mountain

you should do nothing but look

after climbing a tower see the

people ways

hallways through stone

down to the Great oval circles scribed in Sienna

When conversations don’t need works

and the world in different languages

appreciates dancing

hands speak

touched

palm to palm

danced circles

in the piazza

Forget your thoughts

and when someone speaks

listen.


Categories
Poetry

Rose

Rose

The deep veil.
An exterior with
ruby remnants
turns the color of a
crusted leaf.
Twisted, wrinkly, permanent
a still color.
.
The color
of a brown rose
until the last petal falls.
.
We planted in the yard last fall
hundreds, into a hibernating sleep
losing track of them and
keeping score.
.
In May, the blossoms came
all at once, almost unexpected
the bed kept so many
warm within the blankets.
.
By August, the blushing shade of
weddings, warmed with summer
they were almost open
pulling away
each succulent piece taut
keeping together the crisp
essence of what lies beneath
each fold and petal.

Categories
Poetry

The Great Oval Circles

The Great Oval Circles

A man can balance

at the edge of a mountain

hold only a ledge built into the rock

peer from behind a parapet

over a shrunken landscape

sheltered from a fall like a china dish

on a shelf without a lip.

.

Look down to the people ways

carved in continuous travel

hallways through the stone

down to the great oval

circles scribed in Siena

.

Walk along the mountain path

to the piazza in front of the church

where people dance:

hands speak

touch palm to palm

dance circles

in the piazza

Once in the church boys came from all directions

in the loft the sound of their young voices

approaching in a chorus in front of dusty sunlight

stretching through the windows

crowded in the pews

young children sat in the aisles

and on the altar steps

.

An older generation waited

closed eyes keep an open mind

a mass between neighbors

as open as the sky

listening to the faint sounds of a city in motion.

.

The sun made red stone steps at dusk

places to pray between rock and shadow

away with daily routine

surprise and gesture

keeping memory together

a beating heart pulsed.

Categories
Travel

Backpacker Contest

Dropping my husband off in the wilderness for a week reminds me that I never published the backpacker contest we entered. The latest news with my husband and ‘Penguin’ is that they are out of the Shenandoah Forest, making good milage, but not having any luck sleeping at night.

Our Submission to be a Backpacker Field Scout

(Click the above statement to see our video)

We didn’t win but lost to a very worthy gal. Check out Colleen’s submission!

.

Categories
Travel

One night in Harrisonburg VA

Harrisonburg Virginia, population 45,000, the night of July 4th -The city was crawling with people. The fireworks were put off until about 10 at night, and then the announcer announced, in jest I thought, that the fireworks were canceled, please drive home safely. Really? Yes, the town did go dark after that, which made me leave my outdoor spot at the Artful Dodger, and take to my hotel on the hill.

The drive to drop my husband off on the AT to meet his best friend for a 90 mile, one week hike, was just as Virginia should be. Sunny one minute, and foggy the next. The Virginia farm houses were boasting their red white and blue ribbons and flags. It made me reminisce about my college years in these mountains. We drove through the slow two lane drive in the Shenandoah Forest on Skyline drive.

I enjoy towns this size, that of Harrisonburg‘s. There are enough people to support local food and brew, I can benefit from catching a farmers market, and strolling the town to check out the local businesses. It seems like every great historic town could support a bakery / cupcake shop, a bike shop, at least 3 architecture firms, 10,000 Villages, a college like James Madison, and an art stop coffee shop with many patio restaurants sprinkled in between.

And that’s only what I like to do in a day.

Categories
Poetry

Baby Boy

He is so perfect, a little baby with soundless breath, a head to fit in your palm, so small, a new life bloomed a whole new world, how can life go on without being centered around him?

Swaddled arms he pulls close to his face. Big eyes, so alert to voices, he looks, lips smacking. Mothers sweet words and Dad’s strong arms. The parents know what they are doing, and no one questions that.

He is a quiet miracle, literally lifted from the womb.

I feel the baby’s heart, pull him close to feel mine, and touch his chest with my pressed fingertips to feel his heart, but instead feel the quickened breath of his small but serious life.  I can’t stop thinking about his small face, his little body and his big wondering eyes.