I recently came across these surreal photographs by the German designer Carsten Güth and was totally captivated by them. Entitled Private Bunker Series, the collection of photographs show a variety of residential houses shut-off from the outside world; their windows and doors nowhere to be seen.
There’s a surrealism and a beauty to these images. In many ways they feel claustrophobic – even horrific – but there’s also an elegance to be found in their minimalist forms and their obscure abstractions.
The whole area surrounding the new, a-lab designed Statoil Regional and International Offices used to be Oslo’s central airport. In fact, many of the airport’s building still stand, even if they’ve been repurposed. But this is a new construction, a shining stack of office spaces on the site of what used to be a parking lot. So when the architects describe their conundrum of designing a large office building and “making it blend with Fornebu’s idyllic shoreline” I sort of wonder how idyllic the parking lot really was compared to the outstanding new spaces the architects have created.
A long way from their offices in Oslo and New York, the Architects from Snohetta have put the finishing touches on the Hunt Library in Raleigh, North Carolina. The library is a sweeping and modern addition to North Carolina State University’s Centennial Campus, where the project’s aluminum skin and contemporary presence contrast the more staunchly traditional brick buildings that flank the silvery structure. Aside from standing out among the buildings on campus, the project stands out among libraries because it pushes the typology toward something more contemporary. Instead of a staunchly academic space, the project is relaxed and collaborative; it just seems like the future.
Growing up in a rural area, I probably passed by dozens and dozens of useless, sinking grain silos without ever stopping to think about them. But I’m not photographer Timothy Hursley, who has spent the last six years documenting a ruined grain silo which is slowly slouching toward the ground in Hale County, Alabama. One day he happened to drive by a tornado-damaged grain silo, and became enamored. You may be asking what an architectural photographer would be doing in Hale County in the first place. I’m guessing he was photographing work from the Rural Studio, a division of the Auburn School of Architecture that has been transforming public space in Hale County for years. We actually talked about the concession stands the studio created a couple of years ago, and I’m happy to see the innovative play structure that has been completed since.
In a video from the Oxford American, Timothy describes how his fascination with the silo began. He compares the form of he silo to the work of Frank Gehry, and even explains how he eventually purchased the silo for himself. If you live in a rural area, it may change the way you look at your surroundings, or it may make you wonder how many other silos are on the brink of collapse and will spend the rest of their days rusting in a scrap yard.
Do you ever feel small? It’s easy to feel tiny in the shadow of a huge building or the in the wake of a weighty event. And there has been plenty of news about destructive actions for the past day or so here in the States, so let’s look at some construction. The scale of construction and engineering projects is frequently enormous, but the work is still carried out by the hands of workers who aren’t bigger or smaller than the rest of us. Sure, those hands may be steering gargantuan trucks or controlling cranes so large they easily dwarf the trucks, but realizing large projects is about people our size working to build something. These photos are of the people who get it done.
My favorite part of this piece though is at the end when Shigeru explains what’s important to him in regards to architecture.
What’s the most important thing when making architecture?
Even something that I intended as a temporary structure, like a paper church I made in Kobe in 1995, can end up being permanent. That church was relocated to Taiwan in 2006, after they had an earthquake there, and it still exists today. Ultimately, what determines the permanence of a building is not the wealth of the developer or the materials that are used, but the simple question of whether or not the resulting structure is supported — loved — by the people.
Architecture made simply for profit — even if it’s in concrete — is in fact temporary. Commercial architecture is precisely that. If it is made for making money then eventually some other developer will come along and try to make more money out of it by demolishing it and rebuilding it. And it just repeats. In that way concrete is in fact temporary.
However, if you make architecture that is loved by the people, then regardless of what it is made of, it will be kept.
These twisting twin bridges are the work of the Shanghai-based CA Group, but the photographs of the bridges are the work of photographer Montse Zamora. The bridges look a little bit like the double helix of DNA to me, but I’m a bit of a science nerd and it turns out that they’re inspiration is more geographical than biological. The form of the bridges is a reference to mountains which are absent in this particular region of China. The shape also suits the structural system of the arched suspension bridge. What’s unique about this bridge is that the arches jump from side to side, making the bridge more dynamic while also ensuring that they have the same sort of formal legibility from more angles. And the angles of these bridges are captured very well by Montse.