12 posts tagged “architecture”

One year ago, I was writing about this medieval structure in Paris.

 

Living in DFW and thinking about this building in Paris--a couple of centuries older than America--reminds me again how new everything is in this country. Not for Native Americans, of course, or the perhaps the Vikings, but for those early English, French, Dutch, or Spanish of the 16th or 17th century, or the later immigrants from any country who chose (or not) to come to this country.

DFW is so proud of its new constructions--like most of America. We do preserve old buildings for museum or academic purposes, but we don't live in them, shop in them, work in them. In part, because buildings almost as old as this exist only among the original Spanish missions in the Southwest, some Dutch and English settlements in the Northeast and mid-South... and that's it.

The town where I grew up has some original Dutch stone houses (the Dutch settled NY State before the English); the oldest of the houses date from the 1680s--which is still a century after the houses above. Most preserved buildings are younger, dating from 1700 or so. Colonial Williamsburg focuses on 18th-century life, based around an Anglo-centric colony. The Spanish missions of California date from mid-18th century, as well, based around Spanish/Catholic culture. Both fought Native Americans and incorporated a slave economy.

Here in the center of the country, very little is "old" in any sense. Sometimes it seems that anything dated before 1940 is considered "medieval" by our standards, and maybe that is a good thing to remember. This is a city that is all about "change," and "new," and doesn't revolve around a culture or ideas that could be called "traditional." Things change fast here--witness our northern and eastern sprawl!

Although I grew up on the East Coast, and know that those of us who did spend most of our lives on a coast (East or West) think we're cultural leaders, we're all about breaking borders and rules and that our looking outward, East or West, away from America, gives us currency, I have come to realize that perhaps--just perhaps--it is the middle of the country (let's say Colorado to Ohio, North Dakota to Texas) that is least bound by history or tradition or global culture. Without even the anchor of the 18th century, there may be a complete notion of "the new" that no one from a coast can entertain.

And how different is it to come from the middle of this country than from the edge? I don't know--I'm an Edge Person, even after 8 years in Midwestern grad schools and and a decade-plus in Texas.

And people do leave the middle for those faraway global sites like Paris--witness Ernest Hemingway, Louise Brooks, and William Burroughs--but I bet, like Edge People, they always take The Middle with them

Pearl

This little building lives across the street from one of my new coffee cafes.

I love it. The architectural details--windows, doors, angles--interest me.

 

 

 

I took these as well during one of the hot, clear, surface-of-the-sun days here in DFW this week. This building, like my little cafe, is part of a neighborhood undergoing revival: lots of restaurants and bars so far, but not too many other kinds of shops. A new natural foods market I like very much is just around the corner, as well.

It is a bike destination, as well, given that it is a little farther than I've been thus far, as well and on and over some busy car-traffic streets.

Great to see this neighborhood becoming livelier, despite the economy, because it is a mixed area for Hispanic families and young artists, kind of an eclectic mix of residents who seem to be getting along (thus far) pretty well.

Pearl

Our campus is built around two elements: an oval central drive and a four-story, red brick, domed hall. Here is the hall:

The class I'm teaching this summer is in this building, on the top floor.

Inside, the entry hall is open, with a dome and circular skylight.

The gallery runs in a circle around the hall, leading off to two wings.

 

This particular window gives a great view of both the campus and downtown Big D.

Here's a better view.

Pretty, isn't it? From here, you can really ignore the blazing heat of early evening.

Pearl

Here are two more photos from our on-campus chapel. I don't go there very often, despite the fact that it is only one building away from my own, but I have been there for a colleague's funeral, a performance of a play by a 9th century German nun, and a memorial for victims of the Iraqi War. It is a lovely, peaceful spot, inside and out--as you can see below--with architecture based on Georgian principles.

It strikes me now, reading this, that the chapel would be a good place to sit and read, quietly, when I need a break. And rather than go to the library, which is never quiet and is surprisingly not restful, the chapel would provide a moment of peace and quiet within the turmoil of my usual day.

The chapel is nominally Methodist, since that is the base religion of My U, although we have left strict religious ties behind and are firmly secular. Within a world where religion is definitely an expected part of life.

Many more of my students attend some kind of service regularly than at previous schools, and the big, big, big churches of the city continue to amaze me with their physical size and the size of their congregations.

Pearl  

This past weekend I was in D.C. It was--clearly--cherry blossom season, and the blossoms were out everywhere (I also learned that I am deadly allergic to something that was in the air, because I sneezed and streamed my way through Friday, Saturday, and Sunday....). 

The weather was gorgeous, and I took advantage of both facts to walk from my hotel to my meeting palce several times, taking pictures along the way. This cherry tree was across from the entrance to my hotel.

These trees were about ten minutes into the walk on early Saturday morning.

This tree with white blossoms was about half-way through the same walk.

This tree--and its leafless friend--were in Foggy Bottom, the area where my meeting was.

This tree was close to the meeting place, and I couldn't resist a closer look into the texture of the tree itself.

This kind of touch against the brick, metal, and granite backdrop of urban architecture (19th and 20th century), is one of the things that makes D.C. such a gorgeous city. It is, like all great cities, walkable and welcoming to the urban stroller, filled with surprising delights. I always enjoys being in D.C.--except maybe for those weeks in the summer when the humidity exceeds 100%!.

Pearl

At My U, there is a beautiful chapel.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gorgeous building. Beautiful light.

Pearl 

In my continued pursuit of DFW culture, I've been researching/searching blogs about my city. Here are some of the good ones.

UNFAIR PARK, a Dallas Observer blog written by Robert Wilonsky about culture and art. Out-of-the-ordinary coverage.

DALLAS PICTURE BLOG, a blog that features a new photo every day from the DFW area. The pictures here make me want to search out these spots.

EATINGINDALLAS, a blog about--oh, you get it. Food, recipes, the Dallas restaurant and grocery scene... I find it weirdly fascinating.

THE DALLAS COOK BOOK, more cooking, cook books, and fooding. Delightfully wry.

COWGIRL CHEF. How could I not love this one? A former cowgirl lives and cooks in Paris.

COTE DE TEXAS. High-end Texas architecture, decor, and stuff for living. Great pictures.

FORTWORTHOLOGY. Modern architecture and street views in the OTHER metroplex city.

THE FIRE ANT GAZETTE. Pictures and thoughts from West Texas.

GRITS FOR BREAKFAST. A blog about the criminal justice system in Texas. Not an oxymoron.

Good readin'.

Pearl

Yesterday I went out for a walk around campus and took some pictures of My U. Because we're in Texas, the campus doesn't vary much from season to season, although the ground (grass) is browner than usual this time of year.

 

This is the view from the front of my building onto campus. One of the odd/interesting things about my particular building is that we often find it hard to designate "front" and "back" entrances. We have two spectacular entrances and two bland ones, but oddly, our building culture has never worked to identify them simply for strangers. And this in a building made for performance, where "strangers" (i.e., patrons) come weekly. Hmm. I think I'll start something new. This is the East entrance (ta da!). Maybe I can start something productive, like simple ways to tell strangers (i.e. audience members) where the "entrance" is. (Also interesting: the north and south entrances are the bland ones, like back doors.)

So--starting again--this is the East entrance, overlooking our inner campus. The sculpture is a giant-sized version of an award we give out to artists in performance and communications who are invited to visit My U. This is also where we hold our May graduation ceremonies, with the families sitting in chairs in the green area, and us (faculty, admin, and students) sitting on the bricks (there's more of it).

This is the East entrance itself (I like this!). You can see why I say "spectacular." To enter the building, you can walk under those arches and across the enclosed square, and through glass doors into our two-story lobby.

This is a shot from inside our lobby on a different day--a rainy one.

 

Here I am standing on the curb in front of the East entrance, and looking north. My part of campus is defined by an oval boulevard lined with live oaks with a green center. That's what you see across the road. The buildings that circle it include our museum, dorms, our natatorium (indoor swimming pool), admin buildings, more class buldings, and our chapel. Here's a better picture of the green, looking south.

It is a very pretty shot, especially because the live oaks are simply pretty trees. They are evergreen, and all over campus, because they are a hardy regional tree (meaning they don't die in an unlimited number of 100+ degree days every summer...).

Am I right? Pretty, huh?

One odd thing about our very green boulevard space is that students don't hang out there. They use it to get round: to class, to dorm rooms, to parking garages... but not to sit and read, play frisbee, hang out and play guitar. Even in cool weather. I've never gotten that part of our campus culture: no use of green spaces. In summer, when it is HOTT (2 t hot), I get it; this time of year? Nuh-uh. My education was spent on three campuses where there were frisbees, football games, guitar-playing, and reading. Even tanning. Not so much here and now.

Can't figure it. Hmm. Something else to puzzle out and work on. I'm giving myself tasks, see.

This is our main building, the oldest one and the one that anchors campus to the north of the green boulevard.

It is huge, for my campus, housing multiple disciplines in the liberal arts: English, History, etc.

That's it for now, but I'll add more about My U's campus in entries ahead. Although we don't have a lot of land, and we're enclosed within the city itself, you can see that rather than an "inner-city" thing, we really are lucky to have lots of space, lots of green, and (only glimpsed here) a fair amount of water works on our campus.

I am a bit reserved about it, you may notice, because I spent my undergrad years at the most beautiful campus in the USA, so am deeply prejudiced about campuses in general. My U is lovely in many ways, but I am always comparing it, I'm afraid.

Pearl

Some of the most iconic pictures of Paris include the steep stairways of Montmartre. Photographs by Brassaï (Hungarian-born photographer Gyula Halasz) and movies like Amélie feature these steps. On one of my last days in Paris, I walked through my favorite parts of Montmarte, up behind and around Sacré Coeur, and took pictures of these staircases.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Since Paris is such a walkable city, the steps constitute an interesting change of terrain from the mostly flat city. Montmartre is set on multiple hills, after all, and while horses and carriages could navigate some of these hills by going the long way, the shortest way--obviously--was to cut steps into these steep hillsides. Adding the iron rails and the very iconic lamps (most of which are now graffiti'd and tagged), and there's the charm.

Parisians expect to walk, and in Montmartre expect to climb stairs. Personally, I like the idea of living on one of these, on one of the "landings." A bit of extra exercise daily along with character and charm.

Pearl  

I saw this on a building in the 6th, hanging between the windows of the second floor.

There weren't any others on the building--just him--and you can see the name of the sculptor-decorator just below his feet. Simply one of the beauties one finds daily in the architecture of Paris.

Pearl