architecture

Before getting hammered with words, it enters life as

shelter…

Made by us (for the most part) – mind and body applied to need,

it frames – becomes a window –
to worlds within

and beyond.

There

(at its best)

time stops.

Caught,

we’re seduced.

Captured,

we’re set free –

embraced, yet liberated

(anchored safely to the earth
yet released internally
from the bonds of gravity)…

The fog lifts…

We awaken inspired
perhaps breathless,
occasionally moved to tears.

Mostly, though, architecture at its best, makes us happy…
just to be alive.

why architecture?

Architecture, in its simplest terms, is the result of an environment designed to gratify, enrich, and otherwise enhance life while sheltering it.

From its primal origins as refuge from the forces of nature, shelter evolves into architecture when thought is applied and benefits beyond simple shelter are explored.

Architecture begins when those thought processes include who we are as sentient human beings – alive, here, and on this planet. It derives from and expresses who we are and where we are.

Architecture, if it is to be called that, will above all enhance awareness: it will encourage consciousness, and by doing so, enrich us emotionally, spiritually, and intellectually.

Architecture, if it is to be successful, depends on a complex array of factors, not least of which is the architect’s talent and ability to merge his/her values with those of the owner and then to shape those results in a manner that succeeds in its purpose of enriching life.

All buildings at their inception, like people, are fertile with the potential to become whatever that’s in their nature to be. How closely an environment approaches that potential will be the result of many complex decisions, many factors, not the least of which is the seriousness of the pursuit by all involved.

It can be a daunting task, a goal requiring great determination, not to mention enthusiasm, and therefore a goal easily compromised, dropped or avoided. The very thought of building one’s own environment with the goal of it becoming architecture, even in the best of times, can be intimidating. Considering it in a period of economic uncertainty suggests a high level of self confidence.

Is architecture, then, worth it?
Why take it on, especially now, if just having a roof over ones head will do? Is it an excessive and unnecessary indulgence?

These are important questions needing serious attention when deciding whether or not to build. The decision to live with architecture requires an honest look at ones priorities.

At this point financial self honesty is critical. That means in this context to not attempt what can’t be paid for – to not bury oneself in debt, i.e., to be fully conscious when deciding where and how to allocate ones resources.

While we’re all, to some extent, influenced by the state of the economy, some are less affected. Fortunately for the rest of us, not everyone keeps their life on hold waiting for the world to improve. Now, maybe more than ever, is a time for those who can, to assert their right to have their life, to give their life shape in a form that celebrates it, e.g., architecture.

And, since architecture exists along a continuum of possibilities, it’s worth pointing out that architecture is possible with all projects, regardless of size or scope. It’s DNA exists in even the smallest of remodels. A building project modest in scope can receive the same deliberate attention by the designer in fleshing out it’s potential and bringing it to life as one on a larger scale.

Is architecture an unrealistic indulgence?
It is if it exceeds ones ability to acquire it, or deliberately aims for excess. Otherwise the pleasure it offers makes it an important part of life – it adds to one’s pleasure in being alive.

The short answer to whether architecture is worth it is yes – to any of us who are in a position to make such a move and want it; and to anyone else capable of being uplifted by the experience of good architecture. We all benefit indirectly from those with the means and courage to take on projects that expand and nurture life.

Life to be lived needs light. As humans we need moments of inspiration. When economic uncertainty sets in and becomes prolonged, more and more gets put on hold. Stalled, we then run the risk of giving up our dreams. More than ever we then need evidence of greater possibilities. Architecture is that evidence, that light.

This post is derived from one of my earliest, its message worth the update.

 

Bridging The Gap – redux

I was just reading a post that I wrote two years ago and, being particularly pleased with it, decided to get it out there again. I think it contains an important message that extends beyond the field of architecture. I’ve made a few editorial revisions that should improve its clarity, make it more universal, and for the sake of keeping the emphasis on the written word, I’ve omitted the images that were attached to the original. I know the majority of those who visit my site look at the images and pass over the written content – I understand. Time is precious; there’s just too much out there to take in – attempting to can consume a day. But for the few of you who are up to it and have the time, I hope you find it worth your effort…..

Bridging The Gap

Before jumping in and making myself intelligible, I first need to offer you a quick look at something about me as an architect.

Like you, certain things catch my eye.

Visit my Pinterest site, and you will get a hint of what interests me architecturally. This collection is broad, not easily pigeon-holed, and yet, scanning all these images, you may notice certain common characteristics throughout. This growing collection of diverse architectural possibilities reveals something I probably share with most architects – a drive to discover new ways of experiencing the world we build.

As an architect I’m drawn to built environments as a kind of poetry. But, not just that: I’m looking for a connection, for work that resonates with my core sense of things as they might be, for built environments that attract and awaken me. It’s a search for “yes” moments.

So here’s the rub and my reason for writing this: I’m aware that what penetrates my core as an architect is, in all probability, off the radar of most. Not necessarily because of the absence of shared values, but more likely from the absence of a shared language. And, by “most other people”, I’m of course including those who hire architects.

By inclination, choice, and training I naturally view the world, including the world of built things, i.e., architecture, through my personal lens, my own inner filters. We all do, of course. But, how then, given this barrier, do two people ever join hands; how are agreements ever reached; how does complex art such as architecture involving decisions by more than one person ever see the light of day?

Big questions. I narrowed my search for answers to one particular area: the problem of bridging the gap between what I hold dear, in this case as an architect, and the priorities and deeply held values of others – potential and/or actual clients in particular. The problem is highlighted for me because, like most architects, I see possibilities sometimes beyond the range of vision of clients – i.e., I lean toward being an idealist. On the other hand, I also have a deep respect for reality and, therefore, a desire to surmount obstacles and make things work. With architecture, as in most endeavors, convergence is important.

In tackling this problem I’ve identified a particular and influential, if deceivingly obvious, factor affecting the way decisions are made: our personal priorities – what we hold as important, regardless of whether they are in focus – guide us. They in turn are influenced, at least in part – if not entirely formed, by our ability and willingness to explore unfamiliar options, especially in the presence of that which has more magnetic appeal: the familiar, which is far safer and easier to accept. Ultimately, to get to my main point, that ability and willingness is at the mercy of our attitude toward the more risky unfamiliar. The familiar almost always has a more forceful presence.

In the visual, experiential world of architecture, that attitude has the potential to expand our perception and therefore our experience of the world we create for ourselves. And yet it is my personal observation that for many of us, more often than not, it leads unwittingly to a restriction of it. The unfamiliar too often triggers a strong bias against it and consequently blocks the doors opening up to new possibilities. Discovery of something better far too often gets sabotaged.

If a language is used that is foreign or misunderstood, it can sound like noise, maybe get tuned out. Worse yet, it may cause anger and rejection. Instead of sending a possibly valuable message, it fails to register.

For better or worse, what we create and what we ultimately end up with – our built surroundings, for instance, and its affect on us – is affected by our attitude toward the unfamiliar and that which is foreign to our eyes and ears.

Our ambitions toward improving the quality of the places we build is limited by that attitude. Toss into that pot the futility one might feel regarding the prospects of improving what has already been built by others. The results: more of the same; a status quo with its prevalence and its inertia continuing unabated. That sense of futility then becomes yet another filter limiting curiosity about options, about what might be. Feeling futile encourages us to tune out more and more. Uninspired buildings get accepted as “just the way things are”; its alternative remains buried alive.

In that scenario apathy rules and the loop remains closed. With that as a backdrop, the architect – the white knight – ever idealistic with regard to the built environment, ever driven to improve on the status quo, steps in. Regardless of our individual talents, if we haven’t yet tossed in the towel, we know we could do better. Some even possess the vision to radically lift our experience of what’s possible in life.

And yet, sadly, so much of that dies on the vine. Proposals are made and rejected. Using a language that’s foreign to the client, they get replaced by something more familiar, recognizable, safer. The reasons offered for the rejection are often sound enough, e.g., too hard to build and therefore too expensive. But what remains unstated in far too many cases is that the proposal was not really understood. And far too often, personal animosity toward the unfamiliar triggers that rejection.

It’s no wonder that those who have an unusual vision, who might expand and elevate our experience of the built environment, of life itself, are often often dismissed as eccentric, over-the-top, irrelevant, out of touch, unrealistic, dangerous, from another planet, etc.. In other words, they seem foreign.

As a consequence, visionaries, including those that are perceived as too eccentric or out of touch, and many others who refuse to compromise away the thing they have most to offer, have a tougher time surviving. Many go unrecognized. While some may actually acquire a small following in their lifetime, their message rarely extends very far beyond that circle, falling largely on deaf ears within the public at large, ears accustomed to tuning out the unfamiliar.

These trailblazers, using a language few understand, carve new trails that will more than likely go untravelled, unexplored by most of us. Too often they resign themselves to the fringes, caught in a trap of helplessness over the prospects of ever being able to bridge the gap.

It doesn’t have to be that way. Hopelessness is not part of our gene pool as humans. If we have something we think is important to say, then we need to learn how to be heard and understood. Of course this can be, and often is, a daunting, uphill task.

Regardless, unless helplessness is ones preferred state, we need to acknowledge how we’re perceived when we speak, when we design, when we’re prying open new doors, when we carve new trails. Pushing the envelope in the real world is far more likely to succeed when the party paying for it is on your side, which means they get what you are trying to do. But that, in turn, rests on a will to be understood, a refusal to let helplessness rule.

Having said that, those offering a new way of seeing need allies with sufficient vision and ambition to join in the effort to surmount the limitations of language. In the realm of architecture, built environments that enrich our lives are possible only with clients who want it, who share the vision, who are open to the unfamiliar. Meanwhile, the alternative – more of the same – remains unappealing.

A final comment is needed here to address a certain possible misunderstanding. Obviously, that which is unfamiliar does in fact, far too often, turn out to be atrociously awful when experienced in its final form. Furthermore, as living entities possessing the ability to know the world and therefore to take care of ourselves, we’re ultimately responsible for trying to discern the real difference between good and bad and to reject the latter when recognized.

My emphasis, however, is on our attitude toward the unfamiliar and on whether we make the effort to further understand it before rejecting it. It’s a choice that’s open to all. Choosing something far better for ourselves sometimes requires that we risk stepping outside the comfort zone of the familiar.

See also my companion piece, Cross-fertilization.

Why Certain Architecture Moves Me

Recently I found myself wondering why certain architecture seems, for me at least, to defy the typical slide into boredom that results from over-familiarity.  Why do certain buildings, over time, continue to have a grip on me? Why do they move me, elevate my experience of being alive?

Historically and in the present, many buildings possess that power, built environments that I consider, if not exactly beautiful, at least capable of capturing my attention.  But their main attraction is different from that of a certain group of work, one that over time continues to take hold, one that, regardless of its flaws, typically elevates my experience of life and its possibilities.

As you may have guessed from some of my past posts, there’s the work of one architect, in particular – Frank Lloyd Wright’s, that no matter how jaded I might get, regardless of how old or passe his work might become over time, how over-exposed, over-hyped, built up, or knocked down it gets, no matter how critical I might be about certain aspects of his work, I still continue to be drawn to and moved by much of it.  Of course, there are many other architects whose work possess similar power – for the most part, each share common essential characteristics. But Wright’s work, in particular, stands out and provides me with a readily available point of departure for my reflection.

What, then, is it about this particular work that gives it such power?  I thought I would see if I could identify some of it in a few words – an admittedly personal and non-rigorous look. Since my purpose here is driven more by my need to grasp underlying principles than to please the reader, I apologize if you’ve given me the benefit of the doubt up to now without any reward.  On the other hand, if it does ring a bell, I’m happy. Better yet, maybe you’ll want to look for yourself at what moves you architecturally (or in any other area), and ask why.

In any case, this is what I came up with as my brief answer to why certain architecture has this power:

  •  It romantically embraces life – especially human life, from which it is conceived, and the earth, from which it takes shape. It conveys that embrace with feeling that runs deep. Human life and the earth are at its core.
  •  It uses materials in a way true to and expressive of their authentic natures; that resonate with us on a deep, primal level.
  •  It eliminates the non-essential in conveying its central idea and in support of its central purpose which is to shelter life.
  •  It accomplishes this with the implicit – if not explicit – acknowledgement by some, at least, of those primarily responsible for bringing it to life that we the inhabitants are thinking, feeling, spiritual, experiential beings deserving of such environments – that the potential for joy is part of our heritage as humans.
FLW

FLW

FLW

FLW

FLW

FLW

FLW

FLW

John Lautner

John Lautner

FLW

FLW

Will Bruder

Will Bruder

Will Bruder

Will Bruder

John Lautner

John Lautner

FLW

FLW

FLW

FLW

FLW

FLW

FLW

FLW

FLW

FLW

FLW

FLW

FLW

FLW

Will Bruder

Will Bruder

FLW

FLW

FLW

FLW

Kendrick Kellogg

Kendrick Kellogg

FLW

FLW

FLW

FLW

Will Bruder

Will Bruder

FLW

FLW

somewhere in L.A.

Architecture – mine in this case, has been in need of attention. Let me explain.

In the course of ones life priorities sometimes fade, sometimes a certain kind of laziness sets in; skills may slip.  As an effort to stay ahead of that curve and as an exercise to ward off architectural flabbiness, I decided to try something I would normally shy away from: design a spec house. It would be on a small hillside lot in a medium to low income area of L.A.. It would, of course, have to be sold at a profit. Now, designing a spec house may fall far below your radar of important things in life. And because spec house design is mostly driven by a bottom line that rarely leaves room for a breath of architectural life, it mostly remains below mine as well. I normally don’t aim my sights in that direction.  Add to that, there may be only a distant chance of it ever being built. But no matter.  As I said, I did it for the exercise – and the challenge. I know and accept that there’s a limited audience for what I do and that a house designed as I’ve done here may have even smaller appeal. But because I’m reasonably happy with it, I’m posting it nevertheless. Enjoy if you can. If not, c’est la vie.

street view

street view

view from below

view from below

Home Base…Part 8 – Coda

Century plants – Agave americana , native of Mexico, thrive here in southern California. They can be dangerous close up in a hands-off kind of way, but  apologize with a one time only final blast of exuberance at the end.

century plants

century plants

century plants

century plants

century plants

century plants

century plants
century plants
century plants

century plants

century plants

century plants

century plants

century plants

Pursuit of Happiness

By the time we reach a certain age, I think most of us know, or at least sense, that the pursuit of happiness – our basic birthright, is just that, a pursuit.

To the extent we take on life we come to realize that the pursuit follows a path sometimes long and twisting, sometimes steep beyond exhaustion, the results never guaranteed.  (Our right to pursue doesn’t extend to getting what we’re after.)  In spite of that, we still continue in its pursuit as long as we are conscious.

We find that scattered along this lifelong journey are places to pause, breathe in the mountain air, take in the view, let our imagination roam, recharge, and, ultimately, be inspired to search further.  These pauses are in themselves actual moments of happiness, the object of our pursuit.

The places are familiar and varied.  For instance: connecting with soul mates; personal achievements; grasping certain liberating ideas that open us to greater possibilities; breakthrough discoveries; acquiring or witnessing something that lifts us to higher planes of awareness – art, for instance, of any kind or scale – architecture included.  Maybe it’s the act of creation itself.  Maybe happiness lies in the journey – in its pursuit.  The possibilities are endless and as variable as life itself.

Wherever we find it, the payoff for this determined pursuit, besides pride we take in the effort, and perhaps the pleasure derived from it, is reaching those places along the way where, no matter how fleeting it might be, we experience moments of joy, the very essence of our being alive.  How we get there and the quality of what we find depend to a large extent on the choices made by each of us – a topic for another post.

Dong Honh-Oai

Dong Honh-Oai

Odilon Redon

Odilon Redon

tom roberts - going home

tom roberts – going home

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unknown source

Collonges-la-Rouge, France

Collonges-la-Rouge, France

Jacques Gillet

Jacques Gillet

FLW - Doheney Ranch

FLW – Doheney Ranch

Arthur Erickson

Arthur Erickson

COMOCO arquitectos, Castelo Novo's Castle

COMOCO arquitectos, Castelo Novo’s Castle

PES Architects - Wuxi Grand Theater

PES Architects – Wuxi Grand Theater

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FLW Imperial Hotel

FLW Imperial Hotel

Dream Homes and Wish Lists – redux

Same post as before but with some revisions for the sake of clarity.

...architecture of the earth and the living

__________________________________________________________________________

Pause a moment…

If you’re at home, look around; take it all in. Notice your response.  Are you o.k. with what you see; with what it makes you feel?  Is it what you really want?  (You could do this exercise with any area of your life.)

Chances are that for most of you the quick answer, if not an emphatic yes, would be some variation of “maybe”, “sure”, or “I guess so”.  And that may be the extent of it.  You move on to more pressing matters; you forget about it, although not completely.

You may find yourself drifting off, day dreaming; or maybe in your boredom you flip through magazines, online collections of photos, videos, slide shows, etc..  For most of us, desire for something better eventually overcomes our tolerance for the disagreeable.  At some point our attention gets drawn to pleasure.

We all…

View original post 1,010 more words

Dream Homes and Wish Lists

__________________________________________________________________________

Pause a moment…

If you’re at home, look around; take it all in. Notice your response.  Are you o.k. with what you see; with what it makes you feel?  Is it what you really want?  (You could do this exercise with any area of your life.)

Howard_Beach

Is this enough?

mcmansion

…or this?

Chances are that for most of you the quick answer, if not an emphatic yes, would be some variation of “maybe”, “sure”, or “I guess so”.  And that may be the extent of it.  You move on to more pressing matters; you forget about it, although not completely.

You may find yourself drifting off, day dreaming; or maybe in your boredom you flip through magazines, online collections of photos, videos, slide shows, etc..  For most of us, desire for something better eventually overcomes our tolerance for the disagreeable.  At some point our attention gets drawn to pleasure.

We all settle into and adapt to our surroundings regardless of how little we may actually be satisfied with the experience of being there – but rarely do we fully accept our dissatisfaction.  In the course of adapting to that which dissatisfies, we risk becoming the victim of ennui.  As boredom descends, escape beckons.  And so we drift, perhaps daydream, drawn by the pleasure provided by wish lists and fantasies of dream objects, of things we would love to have or do, “if only”.

As we all know, such relief is all too fleeting.  And yet there are many for whom it is sufficient.  For them little seems to ever advance beyond those dreams and fantasies.  Action, the kind needed to change the status quo, when the odds feel overwhelming, yields to a sense of futility.  Dreaming becomes the end: “if only” fades into “someday” and from there, far too often, slips into never.

On the other hand, there are those with vision, not to mention, sufficient resources, confidence, desire, and commitment to take dreaming a step beyond, in some cases many steps.

John Lautner, Bob Hope Residence

John Lautner, Bob Hope Residence

“What if” becomes “what can be done?”.  Wish lists become their launch pads.  In one area in particular, the realm of home improvement, those lists and images are indispensable. But, they need to be brought into sharper focus.  Instead of scattering ones efforts all over the map the search gets narrowed down to something more specific.  For instance, my own Pinterest site offers one area of architectural possibilities.  There are many others.

If the decision is made to hire an architect, these images play a significant role.  In my role as that architect I find these personal collections to be portals through which a glimpse can be caught of the client’s personal view of life’s possibilities.  For the client they’re the main points of reference in choosing what kind of home they want, what they want it to look and be like.  As such, those favorite images are like the brush strokes of their self portraits.

Because of this, I find them important as a point of departure in the search for what fits the client best.  Rather than being regarded as possibly arbitrary objects of escape and dead ends, instead they become vitally important tools of discovery and enhancement.  Tools, but not ends in themselves.

Valuable to me as interior glimpses of client preferences and dreams, I also respectfully recognize in my capacity as their architect, that these examples are actually of things done previously by someone else, somewhere else.  Except that now, as future possibilities, they may become over-zealously guarded by the client as treasured possessions. The risk here is that these wish lists may then morph into “I must have this” demands.

If you have ever hired or thought of hiring an architect to design something, you may find yourself protesting the implication of that last sentence.  Why, you think, since it’s your money on the line, shouldn’t you have the right to expect to get what you want, by demanding it, if necessary.  You certainly don’t want to be pressured into accepting something that seems wrong.  You would be right, of course.  And yet, and yet, you might also be limiting yourself, perhaps unnecessarily.

Images such as dream homes, no matter how lovely and compelling they might seem in the moment, how perfectly right they seem, are not, strictly speaking and by their nature, images of your present life and circumstances. They existed, instead, in another context most likely different from the one to which you hope they will eventually apply.

And yes, it is completely understandable that you, the client, wants to feel assured of getting what you want.  Tackling something on the scale of designing a new home or just a part of one can seem like a frightening gamble, the outcome fully known only after completion.

Everyone tolerates that risk differently.  Choosing from something familiar is usually experienced as a far more comfortable, low-risk option than attempting something new.  It’s far easier and certainly a more normal response to ask for that with which you are most comfortable.

But, another risk is to wind up being short-changed. Trying to replicate or to otherwise transfer those wish list images onto something new – in this case a home or part of one yet to be built, and for you whose requirements and circumstances are, as with everyone, unique – interferes with the discovery of a more vital fit.

Trying to paste the past onto your future, trying to shoehorn a solution drawn from different circumstances, fails to fully respect who, in a very fundamental way, you really are.  Your life is and always will be more than those images.

It would be in the best interest of anyone using images as guides to building design, to first try capturing the experience associated with those images instead of its literal content.  It’s in this sense that dream homes and wish lists have their greatest value.

For those of you serious about taking the next step, converting your dreams of an ideal home into reality should above all take you to a place that’s truly yours, not someone else’s.

Some take-aways:

  1. Regardless of your reputation with yourself in such matters, always keep hope alive.  Narcotic or not, day dreaming can be valuable.
  2. If you’re committed and ready to take the next step, take it.
  3. Know what you want, but allow for the  as-yet-unknown. Remember that the images we respond to are directions, not destinations.
  4. If you happen to be risk-tolerant, allow for the unexpected.  Allow for it anyway – it’s less stressful.
  5. Join creative forces with your architect on a journey of discovery. Mutual respect takes you the farthest.
  6. Be respectful of your right to say no when necessary.
  7. Reward yourself by aiming for the best possible.
  8. Your life is uniquely one of a kind and deserves to be respected that way.  The form of respect may, at first, feel uncomfortable.

See also, my post: “A Path Least Traveled – Part 2…The Path – p.1

 

Glen Murcutt, Fredericks House

Glen Murcutt, Marika-Alderton House

Glen Murcutt, Marika-Alderton House

Carney, Logan, Burke - Cabin in Wyoming

Carney, Logan, Burke – Cabin in Wyoming

Glen Murcutt, Simpson-Lee House

Glen Murcutt, Simpson-Lee House

Osburn Clarke - cabin, B.C.

Osburn Clarke – cabin, B.C.

Paul Lukez Architecture, Jennie’s Place

Paul Lukez Architecture, Jennie’s Place

Fergus Scott Architecture,Southern House

Fergus Scott Architecture,
Southern House

sbch architects,  bray's island

sbch architects, bray’s island

FLW, Fallingwater

FLW, Fallingwater

MB Architecture, Arc House
MB Architecture, Arc House
John Lautner

John Lautner

FLW, Martin House

FLW, Martin House

FLW, Lake Tahoe Cabin

FLW, Lake Tahoe Cabin

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Carol Nelson

Carol Nelson

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Louis Kahn – another look

Although admittedly not everyone’s cup of architectural tea, and possibly irrelevant to others, Louis Kahn’s work never fails to reach me on some level.

His work, including his ideas, speak volumes, providing much for me to chew on even though my own work is necessarily different. Just as his architecture was a kind of self-portrait – as is and will be the case regardless of where one applies ones creative efforts, so too is mine. Nevertheless, there’s so much there in the way of ideas and inspiration to draw on.

Physically, in real time and place, his built work presents an alternate experience of the built environment and its relationship to time, place, and us.

I just came across a video of an exhibit of his work, “Louis Kahn – The Power of Architecture, presented recently by the Netherlands Architecture Institute. For those of you drawn to the power of architecture it’s worth a look. Bear with the opening credits,  park your preferences at the door and you may be rewarded. It includes interviews with his son Nathaniel (My Architect) and his two sisters. (For those of you haven’t yet seen it, “My Architect” offers a remarkable look at Kahn from up close and personal. It’s one of my favorite films.)

See also, my post:Louis Kahn

Enjoy.

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Louisd Kahn, Indian Management Institute

Louis Kahn, Indian Management Institute

Louis Kahn, Indian Management Institute

Louis Kahn, Indian Management Institute

Louis Kahn, Indian Management Institute

Louis Kahn, Parliament, Dhaka, Bangladesh

Louis Kahn, Parliament, Dhaka, Bangladesh

Louis Kahn, National Capital, Bangladesh

Louis Kahn, National Capital, Bangladesh

Louis Kahn, Fisher House

Louis Kahn, Korman  House

Louis Kahn, Korman House

Louis Kahn, Korman House

Louis Kahn, Fisher House, Hatboro, Pa

Louis Kahn, Fisher House, Hatboro, Pa

Louis Kahn, Fisher House, Hatboro, Pa

Louis Kahn, Fisher House, Hatboro, Pa

Louis Kahn,Exeter Library

Louis Kahn,Exeter Library

Louis Kahn, First Unitarian Church, Rochester

Louis Kahn, First Unitarian Church, Rochester

Louis Kahn, First Unitarian Church, Rochester

Louis Kahn, First Unitarian Church, Rochester

Louis Kahn,Yale Center For British Art

Louis Kahn,Yale Center For British Art

Louis Kahn, Hurva Synagogue

Louis Kahn, Hurva Synagogue

Louis Kahn, Hurva Synagogue

Louis Kahn, Hurva Synagogue

Louis Kahn at the Kimball Museum, Ft. Worth

Louis Kahn at the Kimball Museum, Ft. Worth

Louis in action

Louis in action

Louis Kahn, model of Richards Medical Research Building

Louis Kahn, model of Richards Medical Research Building

Louis Kahn

Louis Kahn

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Embers

There’s only one way to really know architecture (or anything else, for that matter):  by being there physically, in person, i.e., to experience it first hand, eyes and mind wide open.

Ines Cortesao, Clara house

Ines Cortesao, Clara house

And yet as a reality, architecture remains, for most, beyond reach and regarded, if at all, as irrelevant in the context of daily life, a life guided largely by far more pressing matters. The closest experience, more often than not, is as seen through photography, video, cinematography, exhibits, writing, or  a car window.

What then might be the point of photographing, filming, or writing about it, all of which are second hand representations, views through another’s eyes or, in the case of writing, with language which fails even more to fully capture it?  When seen or read about at a distance far removed from the day-to-day lives of most people, do any of these alternate attempts at communicating architecture really matter?

Besides its possible entertainment value, there is in fact one important benefit offered by someone else’s look at architecture, regardless of the fact that it’s no substitute for experiencing the real thing.

It’s this: certain images, whether in the form of photos, videos, film, drawings, models, or  words, have the ability to penetrate the barrier of prejudices that limit ones private view of what’s possible in life. They penetrate the imagination, igniting inspiration.

The concepts we form over the years about what life holds for us shape our expectations and consequently limit our search for something better.

A photograph or a certain phrase may, like an ember, burn through those barriers, igniting the tinderbox of hope and excitement that even the most stoic of us possess in some quantity.

Lit, the imagination then expands, opening doors to possibilities previously lying dormant. Life moves ahead, becomes more exciting, more alive.

Architecture, one possible expression of being more alive, when presented first as an image, may then begin its journey toward reality and be experienced as it actually is.

WL

Miller Architects, Fishing Cabin

Miller Architects, Fishing Cabin

Bernard Maybeck, Mathewson house

Bernard Maybeck, Mathewson house

Greene and Greene, Thorsen House

Greene and Greene, Thorsen House

Alfred Caldwell,  Lily Pool

Alfred Caldwell, Lily Pool

Alberto Kalach, Casa Romany

Alberto Kalach, Casa Romany

Mack Scogin Merrill Elam Architects, Mountain House

Mack Scogin Merrill Elam Architects, Mountain House

UID Architects Associates, Pit House

UID Architects Associates, Pit House

John Wardle Architects, Shearers Quarters; Image-Trevor Mein

John Wardle Architects, Shearers Quarters; Image-Trevor Mein

Image-Trevor Mein

Image-Trevor Mein

Paul Cezanne - Road in Provence

Paul Cezanne – Road in Provence

Aspen Cathedral, Vail, Co

Aspens, Vail, Co

Revisiting “Architecture of the Earth and the Living”

José María Sáez + Daniel Moreno Flores/ Algarrobos House, Equador

José María Sáez + Daniel Moreno Flores/ Algarrobos House, Equador

I want to pick up some loose ends from my last post, “An Architecture of the Earth and the Living”. There I delved briefly into the meaning of that phrase, hoping to draw your attention, maybe even plant a seed. (I’m aware that the actual audience at this time is probably small, but that’s ok – a seed in the wind may eventually take root somewhere.)

red flag alert

Here’s where I want to go this time around:  in that last post are the whispers of an issue that’s been tugging at my mind, namely that of unintended implications and interpretations. A small red flag has gone up. Hmm.

Since it’s impossible to accurately capture all of architecture with words, I want to take a closer look at some implications of that last post and see if they might be unnecessarily screening out a wider audience? Is it possible that my only audience is the choir? Am I otherwise being tuned out?

We tend to be receptive only to that which we want to hear, and tune out much of what we don’t. We’re open to affirmation but draw boundaries around our turf to keep unwanted messages at bay.

Instead of possibly introducing others to new ways of seeing and thinking about architecture, have I, in fact, only been validating previously held views. Am I only lending support to minds locked into the safe and familiar, that screen out unwanted  messages?

Hopefully not, but if that is the case, then the following thoughts will be relevant. If not, then my aim is off and I apologize for the waste of your time.

to grow = to live more fully

Since my personal belief is that growth, including growth in ones ability to know the world, is a basic requirement for being fully alive, and since architecture, particularly the kind I’m proposing, is an extension of life, I want to use this post to advance movement in that direction.

In the last post I explained what I meant by “an architecture of the earth and the living” and concluded with the following:

Whether it’s built for a location far from civilization or in a crowded urban environment, “architecture of the earth and the living” originates from a source inherent in its own nature as a built structure and in the life that creates it.

It possesses a vital natural energy emanating from essences residing in the materials with which it’s constructed and the circumstances from which it’s derived, including its purpose – its reason for being.

It’s a place where life awakens, where a deeper resonance with life is felt; a place where being alive is more interesting, more itself.

boxes

While this captures my meaning to my satisfaction, it is also more intentionally poetic rather than literal – it’s not, nor was it intended to be, a precise textbook definition.

José María Sáez + Daniel Moreno Flores/ Algarrobos House, Equador

José María Sáez + Daniel Moreno Flores/ Algarrobos House, Equador

I chose this way of describing it because I think the architecture I’m referring to is more effectively captured poetically – it extends beyond the practical into the realm of the experiential. Some would even say that it’s lofty, that it has a spiritual dimension.

And thus my concern that terms such as, “lofty, spiritual, poetry, art, experience, etc.”, may be trigger words wrapped tightly around a closed box somewhere in the recesses of the mind of those holding them. In other words, I’m concerned that they fail to encourage further thought and perhaps  even block it.

This same concern applies equally to those who prefer their reality to be neatly packaged, more precise, ordered, and sharply defined, and who, far too abruptly, dismiss my description as not being literal enough, as being too fuzzy.

Asleep in the minds of some are these charged symbols acting as guardians of unexamined views and prejudices. As guards they’re primed for defense of that guarded turf just in case those unwanted messages get too close. 

What I’m saying is that each of us has our own personal way of seeing or wanting to see the world. And it’s from that place we then respond.

Our signature viewpoint falls somewhere along a wide band of consciousness. It’s our territory, our personal domain. And we guard it well.

That spectrum stretches from a dreamy, nonverbal, semi-conscious and emotional perspective, at one extreme, to the other where the need for assertive, impartial, non-emotional verbal precision dominates.

As I say, we tend to be territorial about our mental turf. The farther apart ones personal mode of perception is from someone else’s the greater the possibility of provoking hostility or indifference. Where the gulf is wide, communicating across it can be difficult.

either or?

For the sake of mental economy we tend to see certain things in simple terms of oppositions: reason vs feeling; critical vs emotional thinking; the material vs the spiritual; practical vs aesthetic, etc.. These become the labels applied to those closed files.

Architecture, the merging of art and the practical, is born in the turbulence of these oppositions. It straddles the wide divide between them, prevailing in its journey through an obstacle course of differences.

Tensions abound in the design of architecture invested heavily with aesthetic considerations. Turfs are carefully guarded by those involved in its creation with a passion proportionate to where along that spectrum of conscious modus operandi they feel most at home.

For example, on the one hand, buildings that are suitable for safe human habitation, structures capable of withstanding the wild forces of nature require, as you would correctly assume, thought processes that are highly rational.

On the other hand, to build something that’s emotionally gratifying requires many subtle aesthetic considerations based on what feels right, i.e., how a built environment will affect us experientially, how it will expand the emotional quality our lives.

The terrain between the two can be rugged, convergence at some mid-point easily discouraged.

This takes me to the main point of this post.

coexist, join forces

Whether your modus operandi lies at one end of the spectrum or the other, whether your perception of the world is through an emotional filter or through a lens stripped clean of emotional distractions or anywhere in between for that matter, just know that when tempted to assert your mode of seeing the world as superior, that architecture, in fact most things that get built, are a result of  all these different modes of consciousness coexisting and ultimately working together.

As a manifestation of the merging of art with the practical, feeling and rationality, architecture is a testament to our ability as humans to break free from the tyranny of false limits and other potential cages of the mind. To exist, architecture requires implementation of all our faculties. It requires us to consider wider vistas and to stretch the envelope of our perceived limits.

not just one way or the other

A quick look at what’s involved:

At one extreme is the design say of a manufacturing plant. Here, everything must successfully serve the goal of efficient production. But even in the rarified mental atmosphere of highly analytical thought needed to resolve the myriad problems of production, emotional signals are being sent. Choices will always be affected to some extent by a sense of appropriateness guided in part by feeling.

Porche factory

Porche factory

No matter how cut and dry the process, our choices will always be to some extent under the influence of our emotions. Try as we might at times to drive a wedge between thought and feeling, our lives depend on us failing in that effort.

Influencing every decision made of a practical nature is a sense of what’s right and what’s not. I’m referring here to a “gut feeling”. It may be an extremely faint signal from deep within, but it is nevertheless influential. Surrounding all that rigorous critical thinking is a “sense of things”, of what feels right.

Let’s take a look at the other side of the architectural spectrum, designing say a private residence. As a built environment it is strongly guided by what it will look and feel like to its inhabitants. Will it be experienced on all levels as their unique place of refuge in the world, i.e., as their home?

Nevertheless, it also requires that the designer, if it is ever to be built, think through and make decisions having to do with an endless array of practical issues. A significant part of the process of designing a place that affects us emotionally, experientially, is, unavoidably, its companion, linear thinking.

Wendell Burnette, Desert Courtyard House

Wendell Burnette, Desert Courtyard House

Wendell Burnette, Desert Courtyard House

Of course, resolving practical matters can be shifted to others, but regardless, someone in the designing and construction of a house must use their rational faculties.

And even when the practical holds a weak grip on decision-making, even when one is making decisions based on how things will look and feel, a left-brain sorting-out process is still at work. Even then, one must weigh one possibility against the other.

vision

Regardless of the position you hold on art versus the practical in design – or for that matter on many other decisions in life, those decisions will always be influenced by the full spectrum of mind-body activity, the full range of thought and feeling, and perhaps, in addition, by the power of ones vision.

By vision, I’m referring to that inner thought or image of something that, when sufficiently formed promises a strong emotional reward if realized once it is brought intact into the world. That reward may be based on nothing more than seeing your personal idea manifested. Or, at the opposite extreme, maybe you’re certain that its implementation could change the world.

3

Paolo Soleri, Macro Cosanti Residence, 1964

Paolo Soleri, Macro Cosanti Residence, 1964

Vision is interesting in that, although in essence it is really no more than what a person sees or thinks of as a possibility to some degree, weak to powerful, it is also a force to contend with when designing or planning. It possesses the power to corral ones emotional energy in an effort to achieve fruition. And yet, as a powerful force in achieving difficult goals, “vision” like certain concepts, can also unintentionally limit our range of perception.

What I’m saying here is that whether one prides oneself as impartial and rigorous when approaching problem-solving or planning or choosing where to put ones money, or on the other hand, if one feels in touch with the divine when creating a work of art, all these dimensions of mind are at playEach has an impact on the outcome.

loosen up, getting more 

Feeling that your personal mode of facing the world is superior risks shutting out a broader range of of possibilities. In other words, guarding too carefully ones cherished way of viewing the world increases the risk of blinding oneself and consequently blocking the path to getting more from life.

And so, to circle back to the main point I’m making regarding “an architecture of the earth and the living”:  that kind of architecture, while perhaps appealing emotionally, or if not and possibly the opposite and thereby capable of triggering alarms, is in fact a quite complex adventure demanding serious respect for seeing and knowing all that it takes to successfully bring it into the world. As with all architecture, it straddles a wide gulf of different modes of mental activity.

Its existence depends on a willingness to loosen ones grip and allow for the vast differences we all have in our ways of viewing the world. Not, by any means, to sell out or give in to something one finds repugnant, but to open the doors of perception to potential life-serving rewards lying beyond the boundaries of our cherished limits.

WL

architect unknown

architect unknown

Li Xiaodong Atelier, The Water House, Lijiang, China/2009

Li Xiaodong Atelier, The Water House, Lijiang, China/2009

Miller Architects,  Mountain Lodge

Miller Architects, Mountain Lodge

Ruinelli Associati Architetti, Redevelopment of a barn, Soglio, 2009

Ruinelli Associati Architetti, Redevelopment of a barn, Soglio, 2009

Karolina and Wayne Switzer, African Mud Hut

Karolina and Wayne Switzer, African Mud Hut

BAK Arquitectos, Levels house, Mar Azul, Argentina, 2011

BAK Arquitectos, Levels house, Mar Azul, Argentina, 2011

Aiguille du Midi viewing area (part of the Mont Blanc range), Chamonix, France

Aiguille du Midi viewing area (part of the Mont Blanc range), Chamonix, France

33

Wendell Burnette, Desert Courtyard House

James Lahey

James Lahey

Catherine Sévérac

Catherine Sévérac

Rob't Motherwell

Rob’t Motherwell

“Architecture of the Earth and the Living”

Anyone browsing my posts or Pinterest site will have noticed in various iterations the words I’m now using for a new caption, along with certain images that I thought might offer clues to the meaning of those words. I chose those particular words as an attempt to verbally convey something about the kind of architecture that resonates with me, that rings my bell.

But, architecture, in all its multi-dimensional reality, is experienced on non-verbal levels while moving through and around it. And so, because I’m alone here, silently pecking away at my keyboard reaching out into the digital void, I can only wonder how I’m being interpreted, or if my words are even registering with anyone out there. On the other hand, I know by comments I’ve received that some of you do, in fact, seem to grasp what I’m saying, at least to some extent.

Be that as it may and since my new caption, “…architecture of the earth and the living”, is so central to my writing about the built environment, I want to make the extra effort at being understood. At risk of leaving you annoyed by overworking the subject, I offer the following comments.

At the heart of architecture is experience. By experience I mean how we respond on all levels to our surroundings. Whether it’s a mountain cabin, an urban loft, or any other type in between, all that affects our senses in and around that sheltered space, is the stuff that needs to be addressed and then drawn upon in order for it to become architecture.

But what do I mean by “…Architecture of the Earth and the Living”?

For starters I mean:

  • It feels at home in its setting.
  • It draws on and is subsequently energized by, not just its purpose but also the nature of the things that make it – the materials and techniques of its construction as well as characteristics of the site where it’s built.
  • It captures essences, or to put it another way: the enclosure and the space enclosed – two parts of one whole – derive from and connect to the essential characteristics of where it’s built, as well as why and how.
  • It speaks and sometimes even sings to us from a place within, a source deeper than its surface.
  • Its essential character resides in the materials of its construction, which then energize the space in and around it.
  • It’s an honest expression of all that it is. Congruence is its main aesthetic virtue. It expresses it’s authenticity, it’s reality. It’s the genuine article.
  • It has warmth, but in balance with coolness.
  • It has softness, but in balance with hardness.
  • It’s neither strictly masculine nor feminine; it may be both.
  • It acknowledges the earth as its source and draws from that – the earth is in its DNA.
  • It aims at enhancing awareness of, through its connection to, the earth – its poetry and its subtle as well as dramatic gifts.
  • It’s a conduit of energy between exterior and interior worlds, between what and where it is and our inner world of experience.
  • When located in a more primal setting some may call it rustic. But rustic does not begin to define it.
  • It may be built with concrete, steel, sheet metal, wood, brick, stone, rammed earth, plaster, glass, or any other appropriate material. But it’s reality is the transformation of those materials into poetry.

Whether it’s built for a location far from civilization or in a crowded urban environment, “architecture of the earth and the living” originates from a source inherent in its own nature as a built structure and in the life that creates it.

It possesses a vital natural energy emanating from essences residing in the materials with which it’s constructed and the circumstances from which it’s derived, including its purpose – its reason for being.

It’s a place where life awakens, where a deeper resonance with life is felt; a place where being alive is more interesting, more itself.

WL

Warren Lawson Architect, Soucek residence

standardarchitecture: namchabawa visitor center

Carlo Scarpa

Sverre Fehn, Nordic pavilion

Ron Thom, Trent University

BVN Architecture, Mending Wall

House Among Trees by Martin Fernandez de Lema and Nicolas Moreno Deutsch

Herbst Architects, Kaipara Pavilion

Reconstruction of the Szatmáry Palace by MARP

Reconstruction of the Szatmáry Palace by MARP

miller hull partnership safari drive condominiums

Bohlin Cywinski Jackson, Ridge House

Bohlin Cywinski Jackson, Lily Lake Residence

FLW, Johnson residence

Louis Kahn, Fisher house

AATA arquitectos: cabañas morerava

Paul Schweikher, Upton Residence, Scottsdale, Az.

Glenn Murcutt, Magney House

Renzo Ferrari Birthplace Museum

Rick Stevens

miragem by Miriam HMello

What Then is the Point of Hiring an Architect?

“What an architect is, seems to be up for debate these days…. Most buildings in this country are not designed by architects, and it is becoming easier and easier for laypeople to buy computer  programs or to hire-in expertise that allows them to design buildings. More and more of what goes into buildings is also becoming specialized and bolstered by technology, so that what defines a building is as much systems, codes, interior decoration. lighting and acoustical design, and cost estimating, as it is whatever we might still call architecture.” from “Who Cares Who’s a Licensed Architect?” by Aaron Betsky for Architect Magazine, Oct. 22, 2012

For millennia, buildings, especially dwellings, have been erected without the involvement of what today is referred to as an architect. They were built by those with enough skills to enclose a space that for the most part would remain upright, at least for a while. Failure, after appeasing the gods, was followed by trying once again, perhaps learning something from the experience. Occasionally something was learned about structural integrity.

As populations grew and civilizations advanced, structural failure and destruction by fire became a growing cause for concern. But advancing civilizations also meant an advance in building technologies along with the efforts by underwriters, governments, and local civic groups to harness the growing risk of greater casualties.

As part of that effort, master builders began grouping together in professional societies. They were following the precedent of artisan guilds in an earlier era. Now their stated purpose was advancement of “the common good” – to ensure building safety and protect an unwitting public from charlatans.

As their numbers grew, so too did their political clout, an effort that eventually paid off with the passage of licensing laws.

Designed to raise the bar of technical competence, licensing also carried with it the added short-term bonus to the licensee of limited competition. Assuring professional competency, a worthy goal in itself, also carried with it, as do all regulations, the hidden price of limited choices and consequently an increase in cost. With added cost comes, inevitably, a search for alternatives.

The pressure exerted on government to promote public safety had other consequences besides licensing, notably the creation of building codes and zoning laws. In order to build, a licensed architect was needed to not only design and prepare construction drawings, but also to navigate the ever growing complexity of code enforcement agencies for approval. To build required a building permit.

Complying with an increasingly complex thicket of code requirements eventually required the services of a trained professional. For most building types, construction drawings submitted to a building department were then required to be stamped with the professional seal of a licensed architect or engineer.

Over the years, satisfying code restrictions has become an increasingly central part of an architect’s skill set. And, as one might expect, one consequence is that the buildings they design have been shaped to an ever greater extent by those codes.

Also as a consequence, the architect’s public image began to shift from that of artist-builder to one as a building technician and permit facilitator; (and, if any money was left in the budget, someone who could then also give the building some “pizzazz”.)

Giving boost to the image-shift that architects, as well as architecture, has undergone is the emergence and rapid development of digital technology, notably in the areas of design and 3D drawings.

A genuine boon to the delivery of projects, this technology has also resulted in an increasing number of imaginary architects. Apps are now available to anyone with a digital device that enable them to produce computer models of built environments and vicariously experience themselves as designers, no further experience needed.

More and more, as this technology grows, some will come to think that they can do what “architects” do; they can now design buildings and their interiors. Of course they will acknowledge that they don’t possess the technical expertise to convert their digital fantasies into real buildings. But then, that’s what contractors and architects are for.

And since contractors, more and more, are acquiring many of the skills once the exclusive domain of architects, why not, then, just bypass the architect for everything except for stamping the drawings.

By the way, this is not just me indulging in the dark side. Yes, it’s a foreshortened view but one that contains a kernel of truth. That architects have become a limited participant in shaping our built environment is easily checked out by a quick look at real estate ads or driving around town.

What then is the point of hiring an architect?  Construction costs are high enough without plugging in fees for architectural services, especially when the value of those services are in doubt.

Whatever we call architecture… is more than what licensed architects do. It is something that transforms buildings into frames for our daily lives, frameworks for relationships, catalysts for new ways of living, anchors in a world of change, and many other things that I think are difficult to define and, more importantly, even less likely to show up in the process by which architects in this country and the U.K. are licensed…” ibid.

The art in architecture is a fragile thing. Over the years its status has been slowly displaced by the ever-growing complications of getting something built. This has led to increased costs, leaving less and less room for anything but satisfying the practical necessity of shelter. When the the art in architecture devolves into surface application, architecture loses its soul. Missing there is the seamless merging of all the parts that make architecture something more than just a practical solution.  Missing is another opportunity to discover the joys unique to architecture at its best, architecture that reaches the best in us.

Just how much more than what licensing alone accomplishes is evident when standing in the presence of architecture designed by someone possessing certain talents and abilities beyond the technical that awaken in us something that’s too often asleep. The heightened experience of being alive that architecture has the potential to offer requires something deeper than what technical proficiency and skills at acquiring building permits alone can achieve.

And, by the way, it also requires someone, a client, who really wants it; someone who is willing to acknowledge and accept that, for certain things, there’s just no shortcut to getting them.

Below are samples of  how some have given shape to what they saw when looking deeper.

Le Grotte della Civita, Matera, 2009

Utzon in Mallorca

Small House In Czech Republic Recycled From Ruins of Barn

House 6 in San Mateo County,California by Fu-Tung Cheng. 2009

James Eads How House, Silverlake, Los Angeles. Rudolph Schindler. 1925

Bohlin Cywinski Jackson

John Lautner, Stevens House, Malibu

John Lautner, Segel house, Malibu

Shirish Beri and Associates, Laboratory for the Conservation of Endangered Species


Avenue of Poplars at Sunset – Vincent van Gogh

Diego Rivera, House over Bridge, 1909

Home Base…part 5

At the risk of repeating myself and boring you, I’m once again inspired by what’s out my window…

It’s Fall. I love Fall. The first rain just passed through. Our wildfire season has been briefly delayed, but more importantly, my architectural spirit has once again been lifted. As always I was captivated by it’s spell. But, I must confess that doing this series of shots was also inspired not just by the weather, but in part by a post, “diffuse” on the blog, “donnell & day architectural journal”.

the day before

approaching rain

…getting closer

…and closer

the veil of rain

…easing up

sunlight, rain

veil lifting

break through

view from the carport

rain’s sundown gift

next morning

Home Base…part 4

evening light

evening light with clouds

hillside with summer shadows

outcrop on lower part of hill

Spanish Broom, California Pepper tree, Hollyhocks

Hollyhock

Spanish Broom, spartium junceum

California pepper tree

cactus flower’s very brief gift

elm tree in the Fall

pomegranates

Baron – CEO, Advisor and Chief Groundskeeper

“…all buildings are connected to their surroundings, to nature above all – nature out there, as well as our internal nature as humans. It’s a continuous dialogue and also a relationship that can be quite intimateNature, in the sense I mean here, is the earth, the place that all of us, consciously or not, are an extension of, where we can turn to reconnect on a deeper level with what’s most important.”                        from “Tuning In, Tuning Out

photography by Warren Lawson Architect

Home base…part 3

Always there. Always changing. Always a source.

spring – soon the grass will be gone…the wildfire season just around the corner

Aloe flowers

the Pacific Ocean saying hello

sky music

never fails to arouse

most days, just plain nurturing

 

Home Base…part 2

My last post, Tuning In, Tuning Out, was the inspiration for a series of photos of my home base, my foothold on this planet that continually feeds my inspiration. Following is the second of a series.

sunrise

sunrise

sunrise

sunrise

sunrise

sunrise

sunrise

More to follow in my next post.