Architecture Of A Dream

In a small lot between two buildings on Silver Lake Boulevard, there exists a site called Materials & Applications (M&A) that seeks to explore the latest ideas in architecure, design and building materials. This space is a non-profit entity that invites noted artists, architects, and theorists to have a "sandbox" in which to "play" with form, shape, structure, and medium. M&A seeks to encourage the public to be drawn into, made aware of, and explore the built environment and learn of the newest concepts to emerge in architectural design. The ultimate goal is to also explore practical applications for new materials, while having the public along for the ride. This is in direct contrast to most activities of this sort which usually take place hidden away in some artist's studio or debated behind closed doors of architectural firms. 

The current installation is called "BLOOM" by Doris Sung of USC. Sung seeks to experiment with "organic" buildings--in that they mimic life. In this case she has erected a structure that is made out of thermobimetal, a sheet metal alloy that reacts to temperature. When exposed to the sun, the structure's "skin" curls and forms shade and ventilation openings. When cooled (as in the night or winter), the structure closes up like a flower. The practical uses for this would be astounding. Imagine windows that closed and opened on their own in response to heat or cold, entire buildings that reacted according to the weather conditions, and a smart enviromentally-friendly way to regulate ventilation and climate within a structure.

Increasingly I see the buildings that were only possible in my dreams, began to take form in my waking life.

Celebrate The Subtle

I am one who marvels in the mundane. I hope you can join me, and look at my world through my lens.

On a recent Wednesday, I rode the bus down my street snapping photos out the window with my new camera. I passed by the Korean church near my house, one that boasts of a location that is not commonly referred to as such: "North Los Angeles" It makes sense seeing as how there is a West Los Angeles, an East Los Angeles and a South [Central] Los Angeles. The San Fernando Valley, being the northern part of LA could be rendered in such terms.
I continued on and observed the Armenian flag lazily fluttering in the meager wind above a business. I passed many examples of Mid-Century Modern architecture, as this area was developed hastily in the 1950s and 1960s when hundreds of thousands staked their claim under the Southern California sun. Today they still do, but they come not as often from Iowa, New Jersey, and Oklahoma, but from Mexico, El Salvador, Armenia, Iran, Korea, and a host of other lands.

Mini-mall signs excite me. Words declaring the variety available within one urban lot. Vietnamese pho noodles, sushi, boba, LA Federal Credit Union, Latino tax specialists, Mexican chicken chain, and more. The ever watchful inhuman eyes of the traffic cameras at the intersection.
Now the bus glides into what is arguably the very heart of the San Fernando Valley, near the Civic Center off of Van Nuys Boulevard. Here is one of my favorite Salvadoran restaurants, specializing in Central American seafood. The aging sign so humble amid the commercial bustle.
I exit the bus, and continue on foot. I wander among the vitality. Shoes, adult products, Spanish-language books on metaphysics, tropical fruit ice drinks, tacos, pupusas, 24-hour health clinics for the uninsured, Latino music emporiums, swap meets selling pungent leather goods, envios de dinero, carretas with raspados and elote and churritos and paletas and chips. Perisan lawyers specializing in immigration services for Hispanic families. The cross-cultural intertwining befits a crossroads city. These very sidewalks pulsate with the beat of feet.

The Valley Municipal Building rises majestically to the south. Erected in 1932, a sleek subtle example of Art Deco, it is one third the size of Los Angeles City Hall, and is home to Valley branches of municipal departments as well as the location of monthly LA City Council meetings. It is part of the San Fernando Valley Civic Center, featuring a collection of government buildings in various styles, in a public landscaped space.

I walk into the center. Here is "Fernando", a statue representing the original inhabitants of the Valley. Nearby is the Van Nuys branch of Los Angeles Public Library, housed in a stunning 1964 example of Mid Century Modern, stark and sparse and zen-inflected. The Autumn leaves are all manner of fire and gold and falling. The library and municipal building, separated by over 30 years, are visual counterpoints to different aesthetics, one of ornamentation and awe, the other of subdued form following function.
Beside this is the Valley headquarters for  the Los Angeles Police Department. This structure follows neither the library nor the municipal building, and instead is of the Brutalist variety, with harsh concrete skeleton exposure as a central dominant design element.
Across from all of these is the courthouse, an example of restrained Post-modernist architecture. The form is a large cube with an entire glass curtain wall the full length of this multi-storey high-rise, but the building features soft polished granite and other smooth stonework in a warm palette. I enjoy looking into the exposed halls. The Autumnal foliage wraps the building lovingly.
Reclining on a grassy hill nearby, a down and out fellow enjoys the shade. 
Lastly, I examine the Constituent Services Center, a collection of meeting rooms for community organizations, neighborhood councils, public workshops, and offices for municipal agencies. This building is another form of Post-modernist architecture, incorporating hints of wit, ornament, and reference. A woman strolls by in red heels. The LA City Seal hangs above us. An abstract map of the San Fernando Valley is underneath.
Surprisingly, next to this government center is a medical Marijuana shop. Perhaps more surprising, is a member of a dying breed: a bookstore. The street is alive with color and variety. Is the cart of ice cream and chips not the most vibrant sight?

I board the bus home, but not without admiring palms rise above Spanish roof tiles.

Exploring Space With Your Eyes Open...And With Your Eyes Closed (part 2)

....while sitting inside the banh mi (Vietnamese-French sandwhich) cafe, I decided upon my next journey. I would check out the "Engagement Party" at the Museum of Contemporary Art (MOCA) on Grand Avenue. I headed out, and emerged from the Pershing Square Metro station after the sun had already departed. As I ascended upon the escalators, the towers of California Plaza and other nearby skyscrapers were galaxies of light in the night. I headed toward Angels Flight, the old funicular railway that would carry me up the steep Bunker Hill. I approached MOCA and as it was not yet 7pm (when the event officially began), I headed inside to take a quick look around. MOCA's galleries were being roped off as part of tonight's infrastructure (more on this later). I still managed to see several prominent pieces from their collection including Craig Kauffman who was an original Light And Space Minimalist in Los Angeles in the 1950s and 1960s. His (and contemporaries') clean smooth Finish Fetish work adorned the wall. I saw some early Assemblage work. I also was fortunate to observe some of Alberto Giacometti's "shadow sculptures". Guards began to usher me out of the halls and so I descended into MOCA's basement, which functions as a public "art lounge". Books on art, architecture and design lined the sparse shelves amid mid-century modern furniture and an Apple desktop. As it became nearer to 7pm, I went back upstairs and got in line for the Engagement Party. This particular event was an artist-in-residence performance by Liz Glynn. Entitled "Like A Patient Etherized Upon A Table" , museum visitors are to be blindfolded and lead through the galleries while being read morbid Modernist poetry by the museum's security guards. The idea is to encourage the visitor to experience the space differently if they are deprived of the ability to view the art on display. As I was lead through the galleries, I focused more on the creaking of the wooden floorboards and as I let go of my fear that I would plow head-first into a wall or a price-less work of art, I let my mind plunge off into an abyss. There was an inherent eroticism to the vulnerabilty of blindly walking toward the sound of jangling keys and a deep baritone reciting T.S. Eliot. Then out of the unknown, someone took my arm and lead me down many steps and into a chair where they removed my blindfold and I found myself in a dark theater where I sat alone staring at a white screen. After sitting in contemplation for several minutes I got up as others were being lead into the theater. I left MOCA with an even greater desire to expand my spatial perception. I walked up the block to the Walt Disney Concert Hall. I went to the lower corner where the entrance to REDCAT (a gallery, lounge, and theater run by California Institute of the Arts) is located. Inside I was confronted by a stark white space disturbed by the occasional panel of abstract oil oozings, television, or black wooden installations of black and white photos. I discovered that the exhibit is made up of imagery from the Getty's Jacobian Orientalist Collection, and that the purpose of this showing is to explore the lack of context, the overemphasis on strategies of display, and the fascination with ethnographic "otherness". Pleased but still yearning for spatial exploration, I went outside. I passed in front of Patina, the expensive restaurant by chef Joachim Splichal, that I will one day be able to eat at. I climbed up the steps to the public spaces atop the concert hall complex, wandering amid the folds of stainless steel panels, like an ant inside the petals of a flower. To the south I saw the swirls of light contained inside the monoliths of commerce. To the north, I walked into the plaza of the Music Center, observing the 1960s neo-formalism of the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion (home to the LA Opera), the Mark Taper Auditorium (home to experimental performances), and the Ahmanson Theatre  (home to big-budget musicals and other productions). Even amid all the high-brow venues around me, I was very happy to find that in true L.A. -fashion, there was a stall selling tacos and beer.  Satisfied, I took the Metro back home. The art inside the Metro stations deserves its own entry at a future date.....