Perspectives
The Journal of the
Ontario Association
of Architects
Volume 13, Number 3
Fall 2005 $5.00
Ontario Association of Architects
Architects and Obsessions
10
by Gordon S. Grice OAA, FRAIC, and others as noted.
OBSESSIONS.
WHO DOESN’T HAVE THEM?
Aren’t they what separate humans from animals?
Not really. Animals easily out-obsess humans in many
ways. In Australia, the male bowerbird collects blue objects,
and only blue objects, to attract a mate to his nest.The
“pack rat” has given its name to any person that, like the
rodent, collects odd, unrelated, apparently useless objects.
My cat collects elastic bands. She currently has six, which
she proudly displays on the cellar landing. Her reason for
hoarding them is not clear. And let’s not forget ants, bees,
and Robert Bruce’s famous spider. In animals, these
obsessions are not personality quirks; they have been
programmed in, and maintain some sort of Darwinian
survival component.The squirrel HAS to collect acorns.The
bowerbird, for some long-forgotten reason HAS to collect
blue objects.Those elastic bands, though, baffle me.
So, instead of saying that obsessions make us unique in
the animal kingdom, it might be more accurate to say that
obsessions are the very thing that unites all fauna.
But getting back to homo sapiens for a moment, isn’t
there also a survival component to certain types of human
obsessiveness? Take architects, for example. An extraordinary
attention to the tiniest details of materials, construction
methods and space planning, is pretty much what we get
paid for. Details are where God dwells. An architect
completely lacking in obsessiveness of any kind might not
be employable — might not even exist. But does our
obsessiveness sometimes go a little too far?
To put it another way, aren’t architects pretty much
the most obsessive group in existence? If you Google
“obsessive architect” you’ll get sixty-four hits.You start to
believe that “obsessive architect” is a redundancy. For example:
“Above all, he [Frank Gehry] is an obsessive
perfectionist engaged in a ceaseless and demanding
investigation of ways to unite expressive form and
utilitarian function.”(1)
“Peter Hall directs a fine, atmospheric production of
Ibsen’s semi-autobiographical play about an
obsessive architect who falls under the spell of
a beautiful young woman. Alan Bates is strong on
sombre brooding...”(2)
“Kahn’s colleagues saw him as a kind of
genius.”(3)
obsessive
“Safdie, the archetypal obsessive architect,
is best known for [having] created Expo 67’s
celebrated Habitat.”(4)
It turns out that, among artists, there are much worse
offenders. According to my unofficial Google poll, musicians
get 178 hits, writers 666, sculptors 101, artists (non-specific)
1230. Among professionals, as well, architects are
overshadowed by the engineers’ 70 hits, editors’ 75, lawyers’
122 and doctors’ 897. But these groups have many times
the number of members that the architectural profession
has, so you might expect them to have more examples of
obsessiveness. Even those who invented the word did
barely better: psychologists 147, psychiatrists 160. So maybe
we still have a comfortable lead.
Then there’s the problem of definition. Is “obsessive”
even the right word to use? It depends what you’re attempting
to describe.We at Perspectives had noticed, as have many
others, too polite to mention it, that some architects can
place an unexpected amount of significance on things not
related to the profession, that other people just take for
granted: eyeglasses, bow-ties, fountain pens, pieces of
furniture, etc. All of these little things are somehow
important in helping architects to establish their identity,
although they are not always conscious of the connection.
At Perspectives magazine, our never-ending search for the
roots of the architectural personality may also be a little
obsessive, but in a constructive, human way.
Maybe part of the problem with “obsession” lies in the
fact that there are two competing definitions of the word. In
the words of psychiatrist Andrew Brink,
“the meaning of obsession as customarily used in
psychoanalysis and psychiatry [describes] an intrapsychic
defense system. In the technical sense . . . the obsessional
defense is an internalization of the bipolar impulses to
both accept and reject the same attachment object,
usually the mother. . . .”(5)
You get the idea. It was Freud who adopted the word into
the psychoanalytic vocabulary, so you know that sex,
mothers, and unhealthy behaviour are going to be involved.
But the explanation continues:
“Beyond this [is] the popular meaning of the term
obsession, including the new verb “to obsess” which
means to be persistently preoccupied with something,
usually an unsatisfactory relationship. . . .”(6)
Andrew Brink sees no convincing connection between the
two meanings at all, but concedes that maybe the popular
meaning of the word describes “. . . escaped forms of
controlling ritualization designed to hold compulsive
behavior in check”.
Does that help? I didn’t think so. None of this really
leads to an understanding of what constitutes obsession in
the popular sense, what causes it, or whether it is a good or
bad thing.
In the end, we decided that the best way to settle the
matter was to leave it to you, our readers. So we have
compiled and annotated contributions from a number of
architects, who have been brave enough to describe and
justify their own personal obsessions. We hope that you will
find them tremendously interesting, if not therapeutic.
PERFECTIONISM
It has been suggested that one of the characteristics of an
obsession and, coincidentally, an architect, is a leaning toward
perfectionism. In The Birth Order Book: Why You Are The Way
You Are, Kevin Leman relates the order of birth within
families and an attraction to certain occupations. First-borns,
he suggests are attracted to fields such as architecture
because they tend toward perfectionism.
“[Leman] observes that specific birth orders tend to be
over-represented in certain professions, such as first-borns as
academic architects and last-borns as used car sales people.
He notes that first-borns tend to seek professional
counseling more often than others because they are such
stressed-out perfectionists.” (7)
prissy bags with two little handles has always given me the
heebie-jeebies. Besides, what are you supposed to do with
the thing when you need to use your hands? You put it
down somewhere and then someone walks off with it or
you forget it. A shoulder strap helps, but then you’re stuck
with this albatross on your shoulder. So, as a teenager and
young adult, I always carried my money in my pocket. I
didn’t need much else.
It was only when I became a mother (before I became
an architect), that I suddenly needed a bag to carry diapers,
wet wipes, rattles and other baby paraphernalia.
A cutesy oversized baby-bag with
teddy bears all over it
would not do.
But architectural design is notoriously resistant
to perfection. However hard one tries to achieve a
perfect architectural solution, the more obvious the shortfall
becomes. Some might suggest that the striving for perfection,
knowing that it can never be attained, is the real test of
accomplishment. But why strive for perfection at all?
Philosopher and sometime architect Ludwig Wittgenstein
put forth that architecture represented for him a quest for
“Functionalism, perfectionism and elegance as a consequence
of truthfulness in thinking and acting.”(8) Books such as The
Perfect House(9), Impossible Worlds: The Architecture of
Perfection(10) and Perfect Acts of Architecture(11) help to further
the idea of perfection in architecture. Is it possible that
architects sometimes allow their striving for perfection to
leak into their everyday lives?
Purses
New and Old:
selected samples from
Debbie's near-perfect-purse collection.
by Deborah Friesen OAA MRAIC
Purse – noun 1. a small pouch for carrying money.
2. N.Amer. a handbag. Origin Latin bursa, from Greek
bursa ‘hide, leather’.
Handbag – noun Brit. A small bag used by a woman to
carry everyday personal items.
— Compact Oxford English Dictionary.
I hate purses. Perhaps that is why I am obsessed
with finding the perfect purse. Or rather, the
perfect purse that is not a purse — or at least not that
North American perversion, a handbag.
How did a practical little leather bag, that anyone
needing to carry money could use, become something that
only women could carry? Why did women begin to think
they had to stuff everything they might need in the event of
a nuclear holocaust into their ever expanding “handbags?”
And why do men sweat through the summer in suit
jackets just to have enough pockets to hold all of the
“conveniences” of modern life?
Maybe it’s because as a child I thought I had to be
“one of the boys” in order not to be limited in my life
choices, but the thought of carrying around one of those
So I found a simple soft buckskin bag that did not look like a
traditional “handbag”, with straps long enough to hang on
the shoulder, but short enough to hang on the elbow or
hold in the hand — just the right size for the essential baby
things, a wallet and a sketch book or a novel. I still have this
bag (my first baby is 23). I regard it with a certain affection
and occasionally bring it out of retirement, only to quickly
remember why I retired it in the first place: it has only a
single snap to close it, so things tend to fall out.
Thus began the endless search for a better bag, which
became more complicated as my needs evolved. It actually
became a search for two types of bag. As an architect, I
need something to carry a notebook, files and such to
meetings, jobsites and often home. And space for my
lunch is good too. But a small bag that pulls out or
detaches from the bigger one is needed for dashing out to
lunch or the store; just a wallet is not quite enough. This
combination has to project the right image for an architect:
professional but creative, functional but aesthetically
pleasing, authentic and well-crafted (no fake leather), but
not extravagant. Not only is a “handbag” impractical — it’s
too small for files and notebooks and too big to fit inside a
briefcase — but as a female in a (thankfully becoming less)
male-dominated profession, my being-one-of-the-boys
Perspectives/Fall 2005
THE PERFECT PURSE
11
hang-up is still with me. I yearn for a solution that is unique,
but doesn’t scream “look at me!”
A traditional briefcase is too business-like and, like a
handbag, doesn’t allow hands-free operation without putting
it down. Of course, briefcases now come with shoulder
straps and I have noticed that a number of male architects
do opt for this type of bag. I’ve tried a variety of those, but
they leave me cold. The shoulder strap tends to be long and
ungainly, a second short handle is still required and for
some reason there is often an ugly flap that makes getting
into the thing very awkward. I’ve tried knapsacks to take
the load off the shoulder — great for long walks or biking,
but they seem to be either too big with too many pockets
and straps so you look like you just wandered in from
Katimavik or too small with not enough pockets — or way
out of my price range. Then there is the “shopping bag”
style, like my original buckskin bag only bigger and with the
same problem of the open top. Sometimes they have
zippered pockets, which helps.
As for carrying money and other bare essentials I have
amassed quite a collection of wallets and small purses. I
think I have finally settled on a kind of wallet/purse hybrid
that has all of the slots for cards and money as well as a bit
of space for things like a pen, comb, sunglasses and cell
phone, with a shoulder strap for carrying independently of
the bigger bag. The cards I carry have been reproducing at
such a rate (35 at last count) that a standard wallet isn’t big
enough anyway. The Changing of the Cards with each new
wallet/purse has become a sort of cleansing ritual that
brings a certain satisfaction as I find the perfect spot for
each one (O.K. now I know I’m obsessed).
So far, I’m pretty pleased with the results of my latest
search. I found an elegant soft leather bag, just big to hold
some letter sized files, a small book, my digital camera and
my latest wallet/purse, with a couple of pockets for pens
and such and, best of all, with two straps that slide through
rings to ingeniously convert from a shoulder bag to a
backpack. Since I plan to begin cycling to work whenever
possible, it’s perfect . . . almost. It could use a
pocket on the outside. And better pen slots. And it could be
a bit bigger. And it was only available in black, which is O.K.,
but another colour might have been nice . . . .
AN ARCHITECT’S OBSESSIONS
Editor’s comments
Editor's Comments
There is an element in the piece that is basic to the
architectural mind-set that we might want to
ponder. Debbie's quest for the perfect purse
presents both functional and aesthetic
considerations that have to be resolved in a rational,
or perhaps pseudo-rational way, much the way
architectural design decisions are made. Our
education prevents us from defending our design
decisions with the explanation “I like it that way”.
Instead we have to come up with rationalizations as
to why we like it that way. Some rationalizations are
genuine, but as architects, we have learned that a
long and apparently well thought-out explanation
will frequently serve in the place of actual logic.
Another important issue is that our obsessions
can easily be justified. Debbie has justified
hers very well. So, in the designer's mind at least,
there is nothing irrational about an obsession. It may
in fact be useful.
The search for the “perfect” something-or-other is a
hallmark of some of these obsessions. IS it a real
justification or does it simply give us licence to carry
on with our acquisition of more things?
It's interesting to note that my 16-year-old daughter
is also obsessed with purses but appears to base her
selection solely on stylistic issues. She does not suffer
from justification problems because she is not (yet?) a
designer. Her criteria are: A. Is it nice? B. Is it big? ➝
Perspectives/Fall 2005
by Stig Harvor
12
As for architects’ personal obsessions, I may contribute
this little domestic tidbit. I was a young and fired-up, married
graduate living in Ottawa in the late 1950s. I had returned
from working in Copenhagen and we had brought back
some lovely Danish furniture and household articles for our
first home.
After the birth of our first son in 1960, my wife
became concerned about our standard, simple Canadian
can opener, which worked with some difficulty. She felt it
could create tiny metal filings that might fall into the baby
food in the opened can.
I decided we needed another opener. I could not
find one that met my strict aesthetic and functional
requirements. My wife became impatient: “Do you consider
a health hazard to your son less important than a
good-looking can opener?” Properly chastised, I quickly went
out and bought another standard opener, more robust but
not more attractive than our first one.
Where Debbie was searching for the perfect expression of
functionality and personal taste, Stig was looking for an
object that functioned in a perfect way. In classic
Scandinavian design, there seems to be an almost ideal
connection between beauty and functionality — see also
P. Hamilton. But Stig may have looked in vain for these
qualities in North American Design.
I recently read about a couple of cases where bristles
from wire barbecue brushes had fallen into food and
caused injury. Maybe Stig’s quest was not at all obsessive,
only wise.
If Stig has a true obsession, it is probably with making
Toronto a better city. His articles about planning and cultural
heritage appear frequently in his local (St. Lawrence
Neighbourhood) newspaper
— an entirely healthy obsession.
“Agrell:
The glasses can have more personality than the guy,
like Costello glasses. Certain people can pull it off
but only certain people.
“Renzetti: Only architects should wear important
glasses.”(13)
“SERIOUS WORK, SERIOUS EYEWEAR. Architects need
glasses as recognizable as a monument.”(14)
“There’s a lot of design energy going into eyewear.
I’m designing glasses for Amy Sacks, a company
based in Portland.”(15)
“Pet Peeves about architects: It is a character flaw of
many architects that they try to express themselves
through their eyewear. I strongly urge them to work on
this.” (16)
what is it about eyewear and architects?
Debbie's Notes
So
I think obsessions definitely deal with the pursuit of
a perfect whatever and aren't architects typically
perfectionists, which makes them prime candidates
for being obsessive? My thought as I search for the
perfect purse or briefcase (any number of other
things) is that the only way I'm going to get it is to
design it myself — and I know even then I wouldn't
be satisfied — also typical for architects I would think.
Eyeglasses are a small but obvious style statement —
immediately noticeable and frequently memorable. You
stare into them when you talk to somebody, you can
see them from across the street, and they show up in a
headshot. They are extremely functional, but have the
capacity to display a variety of personalities and
characteristics: sensible,
flamboyant, scholarly,
theatrical, studious.
According to an
architect quoted in
the New York Times
article, there is
beauty in the
“miniature
aspect of their
mechanics”.
Another
architect
suggested
“sometimes
Sean Lawrence
they are the
(third from right) with
real architectural Corbusier-inspired
only things
glasses, flanked by Harry Kohn and other
that basically
members of the Kohn Architects office wearing fakes.
don’t change
Photo: Kohn Architects.
about you.”
More to the
point, people see you through your glasses more completely
than you see them.
I put the question to Sandra Cowan, a Toronto
optometrist whose Goldstein’s Boutique clientele includes
some thirty architects and architectural designers. She
thought that architects like strong forms, reflected in
eyewear that is “not flamboyant, but dramatic.” Sandra
thought that Corbusier and I.M. Pei may have set the stage
for this eyewear obsession.This influence can still be seen in
architectural choices. Sandra has recently located a small
Italian manufacturer who makes a very good modern
version of Corbusier’s famous glasses.
Sandra’s husband Harvey Cowan is an architectural
designer who has his own small collection of rare and
IDENTITY
Artists and performers are notorious for adopting unusual
means of expressing their distinct identity: numerous tattoos
and piercings, heroic use of jewelry, hair statements,
unique clothing, creative make-up, etc.
Architects might be considered to be both
artists and performers, so ought to
be especially prone to personal
statements of this sort, but for the
most part, they are not. Instead,
architects more frequently pursue the
“designer look”: black clothing (see Perspectives
Autumn 2001), deliberate hair, expensive shoes, and an
astounding array of . . .
. . . EYEGLASSES
Eyeglasses are really where the idea for this feature started. I
had believed for some time that architects seem to enjoy
an unusually close relationship with eyeglasses — not so
much to see with as to be seen in. Then I started seeing
articles about it in the popular press. So other people had
noticed as well.
“To the public, [Philip Johnson] was far and away the
best-known living architect, and his crisply outlined round
face, marked by heavy, round, black spectacles of his own
design, was a common sight on television programs and
magazine covers.”(12)
Perspectives/Fall 2005
An article in the Style section of the New York Times,
Sunday June 6, shows 33 images of very shiny
metallic purses being lugged around New York City.
The caption reads in part: “They're glittering in the
sunlight on the carts of street vendors and stacked
like gold bars on the shelves of department stores”.
Does this sound like the focus of a MILD obsession?
Debbie has described very well a common form of
obsession that is rarely acknowledged as an
obsession: where do we put all the stuff that we feel
compelled to carry around? The sport jacket analysis
is well observed. So also is the problem of breaking
out the smaller travelling kit from the larger one.
The obsession here is one of portability: having all
possibilities available all the time, simply because we
can. Are we really any better off? Or just more
stressed and obsessed?
13
unusual glasses. Sandra is his “secret weapon”. She goes all
over to eyeglass shows and buys interesting examples
from small manufacturers without North American
representation so that Harvey can have a constant supply
of unusual glasses.
And on the topic of Le Corbusier, Toronto
architectural designer Sean Lawrence, who wears
Corbu-style glasses, tells story about the real thing.
Years ago, one of his friends at Grimshaw’s office in
London went to see a lecture by Corbu and when the
lecture was over, the master had forgotten his glasses.
The friend picked up the glasses to return them, but
didn’t. He still has them — Corbusier originals — more
than forty years later.
AUTOMOBILES
“It may seem extraordinary that architects — designers of
stationary objects — should concern themselves with
automobile design. However the automobile has long
touched their imagination, appearing to them as a house on
wheels, as mobile accommodation.”
— Automobiles by Architects. Ivan Margolius.(17)
This fascinating book by mildly obsessed architect/author Ivan
Margolis, explores another architectural fascination: the
automobile. As Margolis points out, architects were there
from the very beginning, even going back to Leonardo Da
Vinci, who foresaw the liberating possibilities of carriages
“not pulled by any animal and driven with an incredible
speed.” (op. Cit. P. 11). A little while later, in 1834, Joseph
Aloysius Hanson, architect and editor of Builder magazine
invented the horse-powered Hanson cab.
GTV above, Alfa cigarette lighter right.*
*After inserting cigarette, as shown, press ring down. Heating element
ignites cigarette and small fan draws the first puff. A bell rings when the
cigarette is ready. A milestone in recreational gadgetry.
Photos: Bob Pavlich
Buckminster Fuller’s 1933 Dymaxion Car (built). Who knows
how many other architect-designed cars have
languished in flat-files. Sadly, few contemporary architects have
chosen to follow in the footsteps of these brave individuals.
No history of architectural automobiles would be
complete without mentioning the Citroën. It was French
architect Pierre-Jules Boulanger who revived the company
after the First World War.The ugly duckling 2CV, beloved of
architects the world over, was developed by Boulanger’s
design team to serve the needs of ordinary French people
at a price they could afford. It was meant to be flexible and
Perspectives/Fall 2005
It isn’t only the design of cars that has interested architects over the years. There is also
very idea of them — owning them, driving them, building them and repairing them.
14
It isn’t only the design of cars that has interested
architects over the years.There is also the very idea of them
— owning them, driving them, building them and repairing
them.There is some suggestion that the architect’s
legendary fixation with the automobile, that so fired the
imagination of the early modernist designers (Corbusier,
Gropius and others) has faded in recent years. Automobile
technology has moved well beyond the reach of not only the
everyday driver, but also the talented amateurs, such as
architects, whose analytical expertise cannot hope to keep
pace with the microchip models of today.
In the twentieth century, some well-known architects
identified with cars.There was, for example, Corbusier’s
distinctive Voisin 10 CV and Frank Lloyd Wright’s red
Lincoln Continental (or Mercedes gullwing 300 SL, or any
number of other exotic cars).There were also the weird
and wonderful designs and design proposals: Joseph Maria
Olbrich’s 1906 Opel (built), Adolf Loos’s 1923 Lancia
(proposal), Wright (various proposals), Walter Gropius’s
1930 Adler Favorit and 1931 Adler Standard 6 (built),
Corbusier’s Voiture minimum (proposals, 1928-36), and
maintenance-free.The first cars were produced in 1948.
Architect-trained Robert Opron joined Citroën in 1962
and was responsible for the development of the SM, GS
and CX models
Where are the architect-automobile enthusiasts today? An
interesting trend may be emerging. Steven Harris is a
contemporary architect who, like Le Corbusier and Wright
before him, likes to match cars with houses that he designs
or renovates and is happy to offer this service to his clients.
Since he is frequently asked to help with the selection of
furniture and artwork, cars seem a logical extension of this.
Some of his pairings include a 1971 Mercedes 280SL for a
modernist house in West Palm Beach; a 1980 Aston Martin
V8 Volante, with a restoration of a 1980s house in
Bridgehampton New York; and a 1989 Porsche 911
Speedster to match a 1991 pop culture home in Daytona
Beach.The appeal to this approach is that an architect
doesn’t have to understand the workings of the car, but only
to appreciate its aesthetics and cultural context. After you
get off the phone with the furniture manufacturer, you call
the car dealership. It makes perfect sense.
Bob Pavlich and the Alfa GTV
Bob and I work in the same office space. I frequently run into him at the copy machine. He’s making copies of
architectural details and I’m usually copying articles from books and periodicals. But we have two things in common: we
are both architects and we both have an interest in old Alfa Romeos..
My Alfa days are, alas, behind me. I wrote off my 1972 Giulietta Sprint about twenty years ago. It was one of the
best cars I ever owned. Bob’s GTV, however, is a current affair. He is restoring it and it will soon be one of the finest cars
anyone has ever owned.
“What is it with cars and architects?” I ask him.
He speculates that architects like to be able to figure things out and cars offer a perfect opportunity to examine a
machine and a habitable space at the same time and at human scale. Bob is a detail-oriented person and he likes the logic
and hierarchy of design from the big picture (the Bertone body) down to the small details (the twin
Weber carburetors, for example). And then, of course, there’s the cigarette lighter.
“The car is my island” Bob says. He offers three distinct aspects to this insular metaphor. First, it is
private and personal. Second, it is part of an “archipelago” (other Alfa owners form their own “islands)
Third, it provides a degree of “isolation”, allowing him to take a holiday from other pressing concerns.
Bob and I discuss the fact that other car-absorbed architects had not come forward to write about
their passion. We have to conclude that the island metaphor probably comes into play, especially the
private and personal part. So to them we offer the encouraging and perhaps comforting news that they
are not alone.
No man is an island.
There was a time, before Corbusier and the eyeglasses
phenomenon, when architects distinguished themselves
through a variety of other fashion accessories. There was
the cape: Harvey Cowan
remembers Frank Lloyd
Wright sweeping into a
lecture hall at the University
of Toronto, followed closely
by his billowing mantle.
There was the hat:
Wright’s wide-brimmed
boater. And there has always been
the ubiquitous bow tie, worn by any number
of architects, from antiquity (possibly during the Roman
Empire) to the present day.
What qualifies the bow tie as an obsession, and
therefore inclusion here, is that one of the main
justifications for its use by architects has disappeared but
the tie itself has not.
“‘Ties divide society in two. . . . . On one side
there are those who wear them, on the other, those who
refuse to. They oblige the individual to choose.’ Bow ties
do that and then some because they force the wearer to
notice his own desire to be noticed and then force the
beholder to do some noticing.” — Ian Brown(18)
Derham Groves is an Australian architect whose bow tie
collection went on display in the Melbourne Museum in
March, 2004. Groves has 200 bow ties. “This should come
as no surprise. Everyone knows architects love bow
ties.”(19). Groves suggests that the reason for the
popularity of the bow tie among architects is one of
practicality: “If you’re sitting drawing at a desk, he says, you
don’t want a tie dangling in your work. Bow ties don’t
dangle.” The reasoning is sound, but in this digital age,
drawing desks have vanished from the architectural and
neckties of any kind are becoming scarce.
THINGS
Why do people — or animals for that matter
— collect things? If you ask them — the
people, not the animals — they will
probably go to great lengths to describe
the exquisite functionality of the objects
they collect. A fountain pen is the
perfect tool to express architectural
ideas, they might say.That would
explain why one or two fountain pens
might be useful. But three dozen? I’m
speaking from personal experience.
Left: clip-on
Debbie Friesen collects in order to
bowtie of the type
attain perfection, but what about people
favoured by Derham Groves,
who just collect things they like? Is that
but eschewed by purists.
an obsession?
Right: a stereoscope and stereo
Joseph Mitchell was a New York
cards —favourites with collectors
reporter who was obsessed by discarded
of obsolete technology.
old things, which he catalogued and put
Photos: Perspectives Committee
and designer.
in boxes and envelopes. Chief among his
collectibles were architectural fittings and
ornaments. Although he was not an
architect, he was a consumer of
architecture in a very real way.The short essay in Granta 88
(21) fails to refer to Mitchell’s collection as “obsessive” but it
certainly passes the Perspectives test.
Perspectives/Fall 2005
BOWTIES
15
An Editor’s Contribution.
SLIDE RULES
Are all collections obsessive? My slide rule collection probably is, but let me tell you what’s great about them.They represent an
old technology — primitive in terms of their mechanics, (three moving parts, operated by hand) — but miraculous when in use. Slide
rules are compact; they fit inside a box, and you can take them out any time you want and marvel at their beautiful simplicity. For me,
they are the quintessential obsolete object (see also Nostalgia, following) — entirely displaced by modern digital calculators but never
replaced as an object of elegant functionality.They can perform an amazing variety of calculations quickly and effortlessly
and, at the same time, show you the entire range and relationship of all possible answers
— answers to questions that you haven’t thought to ask yet. Slide rules are accurate
without pretending to be precise.They never crash, so there is no 1-800 number to call.
There are no rechargers, adaptors or extension cords and you don’t have to keep them
away from magnets.They withstand the same temperature extremes that I do.
And that’s why I have more than a hundred of them in a big crate.
CARDS
Brian Berg is an architect and an itinerant professional card
stacker. He holds two Guinness world records for
constructing buildings from playing cards. Recently, in an
appearance at the Canadian National Exhibition, he set out
to construct replicas of the Taj Mahal and the Parthenon. At
the time of writing, his work was still under way.
A FEW OF THIS ARCHITECT’S
OBSESSIONS
Perspectives/Fall 2005
by Peter Hamilton MArch, OAA, FRAIC, AIA, RCA
16
◗ A black Caran d’Ache fix pencil #77 — you know, the
one with the fish, a yellow top and an F lead. Karandash
means “pencil” in Russian. Caran d’Ache is a French
transliteration of the Russian word.The name was
taken from a French cartoonist’s signature for
his work as a caricaturist for the Figaro:
Emmanuel Poiré, the man who purportedly
invented comics.The company began in 1924 in Switzerland.
As an aside my wife’s cousin, Armand Hammer, began his
fortune by selling pencils to the Russians just after the
Revolution and was paid in return with the Czar’s jewels.
◗ Before computers, a Graphos pen with Corbusier’s
packing case stencils was essential. I don’t use the pens
anymore, but did live by them because they never clogged
like the later Rapidographs (unless of course you kept
them empty of ink until needed). I never liked nor used
the packing case stencil fonts when they came out in
Letraset (now I’m really dating myself). It wasn’t
the same thing as the original tin letters
purchased in Paris, which required a certain
skill to use without blotching the ink.You had
to hold the tin plate a 1/2 millimeter above
the paper for the outline letters or a dry Pentel if
the letters were to be filled.
◗ The Charlotte Perriand chaise she designed for le
Corbusier with brown pony skin.
◗ The Eileen Grey E10027 table.
◗ The Mart Stam chair that Breuer copied.
◗ The Wassily Chair by Breuer.
◗ A Grey Poupon or Moutard de Meaux ceramic mustard
jar for coloured pencils.The label peels off leaving a clean
beige ceramic container (no advertising, an ‘objet type’), two
sizes are available.
◗ Arne Jacobsen’s stainless cutlery in the mahogany box. It
has soup spoons for lefties. It was featured in the movie
2001: A Space Odyssey.
◗ Murphy’s Linseed Soap for cleaning floors, particularly
slate.The soft scent of linseed after cleaning the floors is
quite sensual.
Obsessions that provide me with some
enjoyment with a little style. I am mostly attracted to
ordinary objects and how they translate into the poetic.
These ‘Idées fixes’ may point to a certain delusional quality
in my way of thinking.The obsession however is quite
common amongst architects which may be misconstrued by
the public as an issue of ego or even fascism, “an evil spirit”
(sic OED).
Editor’s Comments:
The mustard jar is a nice statement of architectural
style preferences. I suspect that you can tell a
lot about an architect from his or her
choice of pencil jars (or lack
thereof). The Grey Poupon makes
a simple but classical statement
and implies a degree of Frenchness.
Years ago I assumed the custom of
using Medaglia D’Oro coffee tins —
colourful, very traditional and with an
Italian sense of confidence (très
continentale). I still have many of them ➝
Clockwise, both pages, from far left: a Graphos ruling pen and a Pelikan
fountain pen — both architectural favourites; a Caran d'Ache yellow-top
clutch pencil, a Pickett Log Log all Metal Slide Rule— 28 scales, always
accurate, rarely precise; a Japanese NHS kitchen knife; a collection of
desktop holders, including single malt cannisters, Medaglia D'Oro tins
and a biscuit tin.
Photos: Perspectives Committee and designer.
From: “Pope, Stephen”
Date:Thu, 14 Jul 2005 08:41:57 -0400
To: “Gordon Grice”
Hi Gord
I thought I declined on the obsession thing..
Not being materially inclined I’m hard pressed to come up with
anything that would qualify as an obsession even in the mildest sense.
I’m a little bit fussy about how people wash dishes, and I insist on
having sharp knives in the kitchen (to the point where I will sharpen
other people’s knives)
That’s about as obsessive as it gets.
Sorry I couldn’t be more obliging.
SFP
From: “Gordon Grice”
Date: Thursday, July 14, 2005 11:00 AM
To: “Pope, Stephen”
Steve;
I’m not Dr. Phil, but the knife thing and the dishes thing is
about as obsessive as you’d want to get and still stay ex-institutio.
I think what I’m looking for is someone with insights into how
a particular fetish/fixation/obsession might work favourably in
constructing an architectural personality, whatever that might be. I
am not getting much that responds to this, but I think you could,
so anything at all from you, however brief, would be precious.
Gordo
From: “Pope, Stephen”
Date:Thu, 14 Jul 2005 11:40:57 -0400
To: “Gordon Grice”
Heyyo
I can tell a story about pretty well anything, but I’m not sure the
knife thing is an obsession. I mean, you could take it out of the kitchen
and into the woodshop and talk about good edges on chisels or plane
blades, good saws (especially Japanese ones) and the pleasure (and
economy) of a smooth, clean, and straight cut (and the smell of fresh
pine shavings ... but that’s another story)
Still, when the basic facts are out, it’s a practical thing. Sharp
cutting tools make the job easier, and safer.Trying to cut carrots or
broccoli stems into star shapes with a dull knife is an easy way to get
a blade stuck in your hand.
... but I suppose it’s true that attention to detail and respect for
precision are elements of an architect’s personality .... it’s still not an
obsession.
SFP
From: “Gordon Grice”
Date: Thursday, July 14, 2005 12:32 PM
To: “Pope, Stephen”
Steve;
Technically, nothing that we are discussing qualifies as an obsession, except in the popular sense of the word, in which realm the
definition is not at all precise. So, we will need to define obsession
to suit our needs, as Lewis Carroll might have said. As for the knifesharpening thing, I find it as difficult as you do to draw some
architectural significance from it. In my own experience, I have used
knife-sharpening as a metaphor for editing, but not in the obvious
way. my father always said that there are two parts to every knife:
the knife itself and the knife sharpener. Most people would imagine that a knife can stand on its own — it’s what you see doing the
work and lots of people use knives without ever sharpening them
— but professionals (and obsessives) know this is not true. Each is
useless without the other. For me this describes the relationship
between author and editor. Nothing obsessive about that.
From: “Pope, Stephen”
Date:Thu, 14 Jul 2005 15:48:22 -0400
To: “Gordon Grice”
Gordo
There’s another aspect to this entire subject, which perhaps is what
I find most objectionable, being the misuse of the term “obsession” to
suggest some kind of compelling force that allows someone to
transcend their limitations. As used, the term “obsession” appears to
be an attempt to claim legitimacy through a special honesty that
reflects passionate commitment to a thing or idea or behaviour.
Having an obsession with a thing is more impressive than just “liking”
it, even if what it is needn’t be so all-consuming.
So “artistic people” need to have “obsessions” because they are by
nature more “passionate” about their existence. A complete load of
crap if you ask me. How do you explain to a teenager that real passion
is reflected not in a moment, but in years of study and practice?
Possibly more years than they themselves have yet experienced. If an
artist produces a work that is said to manifest anger and drama, the
piece probably wasn’t done in an hour or even a day. An artist may
have to “stay mad” for 5 or 10 years to get the thing done right!
There’s a story about a soldier in Alexander the Great’s army who
spent a lot of time developing the skill of throwing chickpeas from a
distance and impaling them on pins. When he was presented to
Alexander as a man having this skill, the great general had him executed.
... oh well, life goes on ... fancy another pint?
SFP
From: “Gordon Grice”
Date: Thursday, July 14, 2005 5:03 PM
To: “Pope, Stephen”
Steve;
I don’t disagree. It seems that some of my contributors have
viewed the topic in the limited and limiting way that you have
described, i. e., justifying a professional single-mindedness,
passionate or otherwise, through recourse to a form of benign
madness. I am finding out that, to many people, this is what
obsession means. I was hoping to hear from more people about
obsessions that people don’t even realize are obsessions, but they
are as plain as the glasses on your face or the precious Eames chair
in your “living” room. I’m not even suggesting that architects are
more obsessed than accountants or lawyers. In fact, they probably
aren’t. What I’m trying to do (God knows why) is encourage an
acknowledgement of these obsessions and to understand how
they contribute to our professional culture. Maybe a waste of time,
but it won’t be the first or last time.
Gordo
Perspectives/Fall 2005
AN OBSESSIVE EMAIL EXCHANGE.
17
around but no longer use the coffee. More recently, I have
taken to saving single malt tins because I can’t bear to
throw them away. They are beautiful and stir pleasant
memories.
Murphy’s is a nice choice. The olfactory is a sense too
often overlooked in architectural design.
Arne Jacobsen’s famous cutlery (like Scandinavian design
in general) made quite a splash in the sixties. I never
owned a set, but have a friend who did and still uses it
daily. The bent spoon was the quintessence of functional
design.
Your last comment about style points to a particular
characteristic of architectural obsessions. In a culture that
surrounds us with constant instant and thoughtless “style”,
finding something that reflects values in a truly personal
way requires a degree of obsessiveness that, to another
architect, at least, seems not at all unhealthy.
Your list might be considered preferences — possibly
quirks or idiosyncrasies — rather than obsessions, but a
person should be encouraged to define his or her own
obsessions.
PASSION
In common use, “passion” may be just another
word for obsession. In the psychoanalytic, sexual sense,
it necessary to separate the two: passion, in those cases, is
mostly a healthy, productive thing — obsession, not so
much.
CONCRETE SOUL
by Christopher Bariciak, M. Arch.
There are many ways to love architecture, to be captivated
by a building. Some people petition for modernist works
to be given heritage status, while others take a more
personal joy in discovering a particular building’s subtle
detail and style, but the most astonishing love I’ve ever
seen was what one man showed for the buildings he
Perspectives/Fall 2005
helped shape with his hands, his heart and
his soul.
18
I met Thomasz on a job site three years ago. We had
just broken ground and he was introduced by the Site
Super as the concrete specialist. “brought over from Europe
by the owner”
Thomasz fascinated me from the start. He was short
and stocky, a barrel of a man, who spoke little but carried
an air of intensity that seemed to radiate like heat as he
patrolled the site. I assumed he was of Mediterranean
descent due to his deeply tanned skin, which had a youthful
glow, but his thick pepper-grey hair made it nearly
impossible to guess his age.
At first my interest was peripheral, but it wasn’t
long before I was making excuses to drop by the site
to see him work, always with a look of crazed joy in
his eyes. I began to feel the enthusiasm the other
workers spoke of as we all waited to see his passion
take form.
Our design incorporated a great deal of exposed
concrete, both inside and out, in a variety of detailing
techniques, finishes, cantilevers, voids and integrated
materials like glass and metal.This was a lot of fun from a
design perspective, but we expected to pay for it in
additional supervision during construction.
Surprisingly though,Thomasz could be heard across the
site laughing over our drawings, with his perpetual “na
problem, na problem.”
We were skeptical at first, but that didn’t last long.
His knowledge and control of his medium seemed to
border on mystical. Before a pour he would wave off
the slump test for a slew of his own personalized ones.
To inspect the consistency he would dip his hand to the
wrist into the mixture and keep it in there for minutes.
I could see his muscles in his forearm twitching but
whether he was feeling for texture, or temperature or
some other more intimate quality, is anyone’s guess. He
would then, quite suddenly, raise his grey-gloved
weighted hand to his nose, and stiffly inhale its aroma.
Apparently this wasn’t enough to appraise the quality
of his mix, as his tongue darted out, licked his finger and
then promptly spat, clicking his tongue as on a vineyard
tour. He then flung his hand at the ground and getting down
on his belly he inspected a few of the splatterings as though
they might have something very important to tell him but
only by whisper.
I was not the only one to feel a little disturbed at first
as eyes stared transfixed by his routine, but somehow this
all seemed quite reasonable for Thomasz. It didn't take long
for all of us skeptics to be won over as his work began to
materialize and dazzle us with its quality.There was little
doubt we were all in the presence of a true master, a lover
of his art.
Throughout the period of construction I learned a
great deal from Thomasz, — always from a distance —
but he saved his greatest lesson until the end of his stay.
As we drew close to substantial completion, after having
spent most of the summer on the job site Thomasz
came up to me while I was marveling perhaps a little
too closely and too enthusiastically over one
particularly masterful piece of concrete and said, "You
love it, don't you?"
I sheepishly shrugged, embarrassed to be caught in
such an open show of emotion for an inanimate object.
Editor’s Comments
This “obsession” is a little off the beaten path, as far as
obsessions/fetishes go but not unexpected from an
architect. It has the unique distinction of being the only
submission that deals with the many sensory
aspects of buildings. It approaches the Freudian
meaning of “obsession”, i. e. a sexual fixation, albeit in a
metaphorical way.
I like the idea that you can have a “physical”
relationship with architecture and architectural
materials.
by Gary Pask OAA
I am a reader. Yes, I am.
Although I have been
accused of being a bibliophile
— a collector (literally, a lover)
of books — and although I get
a buzz every time I walk into
the library or a bookstore, the
elation really comes from the
anticipation of finding
something to read.
I admit, I have judged a
book by its cover, its art, its
binding, sometimes even by
its price: the pricier the better,
I admit I have even judged a
book by its praises, the more
the better, Sometimes these
judgments have even been
successful.
I confess that I have
purchased and borrowed
books and have never read
them.
Contrary to earlier dire predictions,
books continue to be produced
and purchased in great numbers.
In Canada the value of book
(including magazine and periodical)
purchases exceeds all other
discretionary recreational spending.
Why do we love books so much?
Photos: Perspectives Committee
and designer.
But I am a reader.
Yes, I am. I have bought the hardcover, trade paperback,
mass market paperback and audiobook versions of the
same novel or work of non-fiction to maintain the euphoria
of a first reading through re-readings.
I became an obsessive/ reader in my last year of
postgraduate studies when I read Robert M. Pirsig’s Zen
and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. I have re-read it —
in mass market paperback, in trade paperback, in hardcover
and audiobook — at last count, ten times. Last Christmas I
purchased the new thirtieth anniversary hardcover version
and the audiobook while on vacation and read/listened on
a patio, facing west, in the sun.
By the way, in case you don’t know, Zen is not really
about zen; it is about a father and son’s journey from
Minnesota to California on a motorcycle, and what they
choose to observe and ponder. Zen showed me it was
much more important to know how to choose what to
think about than “to learn how to think”. I know, it sounds
simple and banal, but after I read Zen I also realized real-life
experiences alone would not satisfy my curiosity about this
thing called ego,
Reading and re-reading has shown me how to be a
little less arrogant, to have just a little critical awareness
about myself and my certainties. Sam Harris’s The End of
Faith has shown me where arrogance and blind certainty
can take the world. Reading has taught me that I am not,
after all, the centre of the universe.
The short stories of Raymond Carver have shown me
what it’s like to be a blue collar worker for a lifetime. So when
the guy with mud caked all over his safety boots is holding
up the line in the supermarket, I think a little differently.
I’ve read countless novels and pieces of book-length
non-fiction in one or two sittings. (I read six books on my
last two-week vacation.) And many of those countless
novels and non-fictions have involved people just like me,
people who experience dreary, annoying, seemingly
meaningless routines. But that’s the point: the petty,
frustrating experiences –— the traffic jams, the crowded
aisles, the check-out lines — are exactly where I get to use
what I’ve learned from all that reading: to choose what to
pay attention to.
How, then, does reading relate to what I do as an
architect? I’m not sure. I don’t read much architectural
literature (for the most part, I find it boring); the stack of
books on the night table and especially the floor beside
my bed aren’t pretty, never mind architectonic. Nor are my
bookshelves works of art. In an ever so subtle, subliminal
way I know my reading has
touched down on all aspects
of my life, including architecture.
I suppose that’s how my reading
relates what I do as an architect.
But I’m not sure.
Please don’t take what I’ve
written as a lecture about
compassion or other-directness
or virtues. It’s not about virtue;
it’s about using what I’ve read
to exercise my freedom to
choose to go beyond myself,
to use my “get out of jail free”
card — my brain, my education,
my experiences — to connect
with whatever is out there
from the most boring to the
most breathtaking.
Editor’s Comments
The piece is clearly about reading, as opposed to the
more obsessive pastime of book-owning, although
Gary alludes to the latter toward the end. I don’t think
I would comfortably call reading an obsession. If it is, it
is most probably a healthy one. As for the re-reading
and re-re-reading, and buying the hardcover, the
audiobook, the annotated version, etc., well I’m no
shrink, but. . . .
Here are a few questions that might begin to define a
book obsession: Do you often borrow books from the
library or do you normally insist on owning the books
you read? Do you make a distinction between owning
books and reading them? E.g., have you any interest
in first editions, rare copies, etc.? Are you finicky
about how you keep your books? Has anyone close to
you ever made a wry comment about your books?
(E.g., “Are you going to buy some more shelves today
as well?”)
Gary Pask is a member of the Perspectives Editorial
Committee.
Perspectives/Fall 2005
READING AND BEING
19
THE PAST
Nostalgia was originally defined as a mental disorder, but is
now considered perfectly normal, even for young people
Let’s be honest, they DON’T make things
like they used to, do they? To me, at
least, a preference for obsolete and
obsolescent technology is perfectly
understandable. Newer is not
always better.
But a dedication to old things may
serve a useful purpose. There is a sort
of foot-dragging effect that sets in
immediately when an old technology is
replaced by a newer one. Those who
adhere to the old technology continue to maintain
the materials and skills while they are still alive. During
this short time, the full effects of the newer technology
can be assessed and elements of the old may be retained
either for purely nostalgic reasons or for more functional
ones: once the novelty has worn off, the new technology
may not completely deliver on its promise to replace
the old.
Most people would probably assume that architects
only like new buildings and new things. They would be
surprised to find that for many architects this is not the
case. But is an obsession with older buildings, for example
a true obsession, or merely good sense?
OLD WORLD
by Ian Ellingham, OAA
Perspectives/Fall 2005
What, I wonder, is my personal uniqueness? I don’t have
any serious collection (my stamp collection ossified in
1964), I suspect that I no longer wear defining clothes, my
furniture has tended to appear by itself (contributed by
older and deceased relatives), and there is no conscious art
collection. Could it be possible that I have no manifestation
of any obsession?
Somehow this possibility is disturbing. Surely
everyone wants to posses some characteristic to
differentiate him or her from the masses of the
population — a scream of anguish that one
is not merely one out of billions, but
an individual. Yet people also
need to belong, so we
face a tension: to be
different, and yet to
fit in.
20
Clockwise, this page, from top left: a decorative tin pencil
holder; an Alessi (architect-designed) kettle, viewed from
above; a loupe or "linen tester" (still in use by some
architectural illustrators); a beam compass.
P. 21: a Royal portable typewriter.
Photos: Perspectives Committee and designer.
Perhaps in this tension, comes so much of the richness
and creativity of society, even that manifested in the built
environment.
Gradually over a period of weeks of reflection on
obsessions, a defining characteristic became apparent. I
tend to live in a world of the old. Not a conscious collection
of antiques, or some crazy filling of the house with junk
(although I had a great-uncle who did just that)
but simply a preference for keeping older things in
everyday use.
Once a contractor commented that he had first met
me fifteen years before, and I was still driving the same
car. I had liked the car when I had bought it (used), still
liked it, and found it reliable. So why buy a new one? I often
wear the dinner jacket my grandfather bought just after he
returned from the Great War (the first one). Some
things simply never go out of style, and if you
buy quality. . . .
Looking about in our part of
Toronto one can see a
relentless pursuit of
some sort of housing
newness. People
spend to achieve
some sort of newness
in their housing,
(albeit dressed-up in
historical styles).
Sometimes I am asked
about all of the things I
have done to my house. I
comment to their surprise that
I have painted a couple of rooms
and upgraded the insulation.
It is nice to know that I am not alone. Some cultures
even see newness as being undesirable, crass and arriviste.
British diarist Alan Clark offered a wonderful class-conscious
insult to a fellow politician — that he probably had to buy
his own furniture. A preference for the new cannot be
assumed to be a fundamental human trait.
Yet perhaps there are good reasons behind a rejection
of the new. As I survey our kitchen, I am aware of the
transience of so many new things. Among the things not
working are the toaster (bought about six months
ago), the bread maker (eighteen months), an electric
kettle (perhaps a couple of years), the dishwasher (four
years), and the refrigerator interior (seven years) is
disintegrating. I can only assume that the manufacturer of
the stove (seven years old) did not fully understand the
nature of stoves, so didn’t worry that the controls are not
heat-resistant and so they fall off after a couple
of years of use. Yet it is equally easy
to find appliances of the sixties that
happily soldier on, doing loads of
laundry without complaint.
Are we about to see the end
of the cult of the new as large
corporations figure out how to value
engineer their products so they last for only
a bit more than the guarantee period?
Editor’s comments:
Ian’s obsession seems to be unlike the others in this
article. Instead of fixating on a new car (or several new
cars) or pairs of shoes, or fountain pens, he contrives
to be happy with the old one. This is clearly not the
kind of obsession that is encouraged by marketing
strategists.
Sense of definition is certainly one of the
explanations for an obsession. There is also sense
of control, (methodically excluding objects that don’t
satisfy certain criteria), sense of comfort (if one is
good, five thousand must be great!), a need to
possess.
Ian’s Comments
The quest for a topic for an Obsessions issue
forces one to undertake some fairly intensive
introspection, and careful questioning of
acquaintances. The question quickly drifts to
another plane: What is it that defines one as
an individual?
Why do special interests and collections exist?
Such individual uniqueness is undoubtedly more
than mere quirkiness. Surely those Darwinians
among us, who believe that everything exists as
part of an evolutionary stream, would suggest that
the human propensity to defining dress, strange
collections, and curious household possessions
must have some reason. Such behaviour is surely
not just some accident of creation, but makes a
positive contribution to the success of the human
species. Doesn't it?
Is there some kind of obsession to be espied in
every person's environment? Perhaps such complex
behaviour reflects affluence, with people in
subsistence economies being too busy eking out a
simple basic existence to be able to waste any time
on such fripperies. Maybe low-level obsession and
collections only exist as by-products of affluence —
perhaps like architecture.
IDEES FIXES
ARVIND NARALE
by Gordon S. Grice OAA, FRAIC
I first met Arvind Narale almost forty years ago. He was a graduate student at
the University of Toronto and I was in my fifth year in the studio next door. We
didn’t meet again until a few months ago.
Arvind has practised as an
architect for most of those forty years,
but has spent the last few years of his
life in the pursuit of an idea that few, if
any, others have pursued with such
dedication.
Like many good stories, Arvind’s
began when he came across a
mysterious, tattered old book in a
small bookshop. “Ordinarily I wouldn’t
have bothered to look into it,” he says.
“However, as if prompted by some
mysterious power, I picked it up and
was soon fascinated and awe-struck by
its contents.”
TOPSY-TURVY Image No. 17
The book was called RamaMother, Daughter and a Painting/
Girl and a Painting
Krishna-Kavyam — a collection of 36
Original artwork: 8 1/2" x 9 1/2", pencil
Sanskrit verses composed by a
on linen paper (1995)
sixteenth –century poet. Each verse
Artist: Arvind Narale
is a sort of asymmetrical
palindrome which, when read from Ed. note: turn the page upside down.
left to right is an abridged biography of
Lord Rama; when read from right to left, an abridged biography of Lord
Krishna. Arvind began to wonder whether this form of complex palindrome, or
viloma kavya, could somehow be represented pictorially.
Alongside his architectural career, Arvind had been drawing and painting
for most of his life. His book of conventional architectural illustrations For the
Love of Water Colour (21) gives evidence of his great skill. But now he began to
train his eye in a new way.
When I asked Arvind how he started evolving Topsy-turvy pictures, he
explained: “My initial attempts were as random as could be. Not knowing
where to begin, I would gaze at the ornate patterns on bathroom tiles or some
abstract shapes seen in a wallpaper pattern, until a vague, nebulous image
began to take shape in my mind. I would try to sketch it out on paper, but
would soon discover that when I turned it upside down, something totally
unexpected would meet the eye. I would draw in or erase a few lines here and
there to make some sense of this mass of lines, only to find out on turning it
upside down that I had completely destroyed what I started out with.
“Each change made on one side made it necessary to check the other
side.To create lines that have meaning on both sides of the picture, in part and
as a whole, is a process filled with the agonies of trial and error and, indeed a
test of patience.
“As I gradually and painstakingly honed my ability to sculpt two meaningful
vilomatic images at a mature level, I realized that I had laid my hands on a
powerful magic that would allow me to graphically fuse two different concepts
into one set of lines and deliver a strong visual impact.”
Arvind has retired as an architect and spends many of his working hours pursuing
this hauntingly unusual form of illustrative poetry. He is currently preparing
material for Masters of Deception: Escher, Dalí & the Artists of Optical Illusion,Vol. II,
by Al Seckel, to be published next year by Sterling Publishing Co., New York.
Perspectives/Fall 2005
More and more companies fall on my “never buy again”
list. When one buys something used — perhaps at a garage
sale, or even better it turns up from some ancient relative,
of course there is no warranty, but you didn’t pay much for
it, and given its age — it may actually be reliable.
It is easy to see that one of the great attributes of
humanity is that there are differences between us as
individuals, whether we consciously strive for it or not.
However, the uniqueness
which yields creativity,
innovation, and
productivity has other
implications: perhaps
nothing comes free,
and our drive for
uniqueness can
lead to some true
obsessions.
21
WORDS
The last word should rightly be reserved for the subject of
words.
Many architects love words.They don’t just use
words to describe buildings; they also sometimes describe
buildings as though they were words: architecture has a
“vocabulary”, it establishes a “dialogue” with its context,
certain elements “punctuate” and “articulate” an
architectural façade.
Architects are
important to the
history of words.
Leonardo Da Vinci
wrote a lot of
words, but usually
backwards, to
be read in a
mirror.
Thomas
Jefferson,
Photo: Perspectives
Editorial Committee
whose use of words helped form a document sacred to
American democracy, was an architect. It was an architect
that invented the game Scrabble in 1938. Some architects
are hopelessly addicted to crossword puzzles. It’s the structure
and the precision of the thing — the way everything fits
together perfectly, once the problems are solved.
But more impressively, just a few weeks ago, a retired
Canadian architect, James Macdonald of Vancouver, was
“dis”-honoured by the 2005 Bulwer-Lytton international
competition for the “worst opening sentence to the worst
possible novel.”
Those of us who aspire to be great writers can only
marvel at the artistry in this award-winning entry: “Mitzi’s
wet T-shirt clung to her torso like paint on the nose of a
jumbo jet.”
Finally, in case you were wondering,
“To Freud (1910), the utilization of libidinal energies on
behalf of higher intellectual and aesthetic concerns
allows the genius to escape the fate of neurosis; it is
the failure to successfully sublimate fixated infantile
desires that creates a nearly insurmountable disposition
to ‘obsessional neurosis’. To Stekel, in comparison . . . ,
the neurotic condition constitutes the germ of
creation and source of all progress.”
— G.Becker (22)
“All great things come from neurotics.” — Marcel Proust
Perspectives/Fall 2005
NOTES:
22
(1) — www.pritzkerprize.com/gehry.htm 17 June 05
(2) Charles Spencer reviewing the Haymarket Theatre,
West End, production, Daily Telegraph, 23.x.95 From
www.alanbates.com/abarchive/interviews/master.html,
22 May 2005
(3) My Architect reviewed by Nicola Harrison, at
www.abc.net.au/nightlife/stories.
(4) www.thingsmagazine.net/2003_01_01_oldthings.htm,
6 Jun 2005
(5) Obsession and Culture: A Study of Sexual Obsession in
Modern Fiction. Andrew Brink. Associated University
Presses Inc. 1996, p. 195
(6) Brink, 195
(7) from a reader review found at:
http://health.bookbest.com/node/relationships/
marriage/21813_9, 28 Feb 2000
(8) Ludwig Wittgenstein Architect. Paul Wijdeveld.
Amsterdam:The Pepin Press, 1993.
(9) Witold Rybczynski. New York: Scribner, 2002
(10) Stephen Coates and Eric Stetter, ed. Boston:
Birkhäuser. 2000
(11) Jeffrey Kipnis. New York: Museum of Modern Art. 2001
(12) Paul Goldberger, NYT, January 27, 2005, “Philip
Johnson Is Dead at 98; Architecture’s Restless Intellect.”
(13) Three woman writers discuss “Men we love” in The
Globe and Mail Style section, February 8, 2003
(14) caption to a series of photos showing Corbusier,
landscape architect Ken Smith, Daniel and Nina
Libeskind and Rafael Vignoly, all bespectacled. Ruth La
Ferla, NYT February 9, 2003, “Let Me Guess:You
Must Be An Architect”.
(15) Portland architect Brad Cloepfil discusses current
projects with Deborah Solomon in “Building His
Case”, NYT Magazine, May 15, 2005
(16) Terrence Riley, MOMA’s chief architecture and design
curator discusses likes and dislikes with Edward
Lewine in “The Curator’s Studio”, NYT Magazine,
same issue as above, ten pages later.
(17) Chichester: Wiley-Academy. 2000. P. 5
(18) quoting from Riccardo Villarosa’s 1985 Book of Ties in
“Bowed over”, The Globe and Mail, December 11 2004.
(19) “These are a few of my favourite things”. The Age
theage.com.au. February 3, 2004.
(20) ”The Collector” by Paul Maliszewski. London Granta
Publications, 2004.
(21) Toronto: Canadian Stage and Arts Publications,1995
(22) The Mad Genius Controversy.Beverly Hills, California
Sage. 1978,
International
The Orange Revolution
by Gordon S. Grice OAA, FRAIC
Last December, the Canadian Government
sent 500 Canadians to help monitor the
repeat second round of presidential elections
in Ukraine after the international community
roundly condemned the fraudulent results
of the previous rounds.Toronto architect
Walter Daschko was one of them. By his
own reckoning, Walter has been involved in
virtually every federal, provincial, municipal
election since he was fifteen years old. In
addition, he has a long history of involvement
with Ukraine, having made a half-dozen visits
over the past two decades, on CIDA projects, on youth
leadership training exercises to help re-start the scout
movement and on a young architect outreach program.
The process last year was frenetic. Walter applied for a
position in the second week of December. By the nineteenth,
he had been selected and was on his way to Ottawa with the
rest of the volunteers for briefing sessions. By the twenty-third,
the mission was being briefed in Kyiv and on the twenty-fifth,
Christmas day for most Canadians, Walter and his team
were in Luhansk, in the farthest south-east corner of
Clockwise from top right: Some agit-prop wall art in downtown Kyiv: a stencilled image of
Ukraine — "an area very much controlled by pro-Russia,
Viktor Yushchenko, leader of the democratic forces and presidential candidate; A photo of
anti-democratic oligarchs".
Kyiv's main street (Khreshchatyk) transformed by the "Tent City" during the election
Election day was Sunday December 26. Walter got up
period. It had dining tents, chapels, and as shown here a small "hospital" as well as
at about 4:30 a.m. to make sure that all team members
memorials and agit-prop areas; A typical ballot box ("voting/ballot urn") in the eastern
got out in time to their selected polls for the 8:00 a.m.
Ukrainian industrial centre of Luhansk, where I was sent as an observer ; A mix of blue
opening. Nearly twenty-four hours later, after clocking over
& orange on the Maidan.
300 km, visiting ten polls, two party headquarters, two
territorial election commissions, observing, recording, dealing with chaos in some polls, hostility verging on violence in another and all
the time fielding problems phoned in by other team members, early Monday morning, Walter found his way back to his hotel. On
Tuesday, he was back in Kyiv and part of the historic street celebration. By December 30, barely two weeks after the adventure
began, he was back in Toronto with his family, in time for Eastern-rite Christmas, celebrated by Orthodox and other Eastern
Christians, including Ukrainians.
I keep telling everyone how beautiful the main street of Kyiv, Khreshchatyk, truly is. Usually I offer my opinion from a design point of view:
scale, height of buildings, width of space; the bias of the wide sidewalk on the sunny side; the hierarchy of the various alleys of trees —
both in terms of size and "fragrance" [the large chestnuts provide a wondrous scent in the spring]; . . . the use of buildings to frame views
out from and into the street, the subtle but significant shifting of building footprints to create pedestrian squares at key points, and while
some of the architectural detailing is deathly Soviet, the backdrop is serviceable and will likely soon get better.
[But here is] a moving glimpse of the beauty of ad-hoc democracy in the street. Don't let anyone tell you that this society is on the
verge of civil war. As the Canadian Ambassador said earlier, this is a demonstration of a growing civil society.
Even in university Walter made a conscious decision about the balance he wanted in his life. He realized that he must always find
room for not just architecture but equally for family and commitments to communities — cultural and political. For Walter, it is
difficult to understand how anyone interested in architecture cannot be equally interested in politics: "Both deal with building new and
hopefully better realities."
Gordon Grice is Editor of Perspectives.
Perspectives/Fall 2005
Excerpts from an email from Walter to his friends back home:
23
Ontario Places
It’s roomier than
you’d think:
The
Leamington
Tomato
k
By Barbara Ross
ew places boast an architectural landmark that is
both "mimetic" of food and accessible for human
occupation.There are still some landmarks of this
type, open for business across North America, including:
a milk bottle (in Boston), a teapot (in Zillah, Washington),
a Berry-Go-Round (maximum allowable: 4 adults per
strawberry), several coffee pots (in Bedford Pennsylvania,
Lexington Virginia, and Tacoma Washington), and the Tail
o' the Pup (in Los Angeles).The last landmark appears
from time to time, in film (L.A. Story and others); it
dispenses and is shaped like a hotdog.
F
Construction of the Tomato took three weeks, in
1961. It was designed by the engineering department at
the H.J. Heinz Company, which has operated in
Leamington since 1909, and is, by a large margin, still the
biggest employer in the town.The Tomato's structural
frame is wood.The armature is covered with metal lath,
cement plaster and two layers of red-tinted fibreglass
and resin.The exterior is painted regularly to maintain its
healthy red glow.The Tomato stands proud at 4.3 metres
(fourteen feet) tall, and 6.1 metres (twenty feet) wide.
Christene Chopchik, representing the Leamington
Perspectives/Fall 2005
The Big Tomato Tourist Booth proudly represents and celebrates the agricultural heartland of southwestern Ontario
30
Unlike the "giants" — which are just plain big (such
as Sudbury's nickel, and Glendon Alberta's pierogi) — a
"roomy big thing" is fit and functional. In the "functional
and food-shaped building" category, Ontario is blessed
with a well-known apple (in Brighton), a giant cheese (in
Perth), and an ice cream sundae (the "Twistee Treat" in
Minden).
The Big Tomato Tourist Booth proudly represents
and celebrates the agricultural heartland of southwestern
Ontario.The Tomato Capital of Canada, Leamington has
a population of approximately 25,000, and it is the
economic hub of several neighbouring towns whose
combined population is 55,000. Essex County has one of
the longest growing seasons in Canada, and also boasts
seventy per cent of Ontario's greenhouse industry.This
area yields forty varieties of crops, and produces almost
thirty per cent of Ontario's tomato harvest.
The Big Tomato has pride of place in Leamington's
downtown core. Staffed by volunteers, last year the
Tomato entertained queries from over 3,000 visitors, from
ninety-two cities in Canada, and seventeen countries.
Chamber of Commerce, reports, "Inside of the tomato
— when a visitor looks in — you can see what a
tomato looks like when it's cut in half."
The Leamington Tomato is an important part of the
Town's summer festival. Ms. Chopchik advises, "We have
a tomato festival every August, the third weekend.
Stewie is the festival mascot.The family last name is
Tomato, so father is Stewie, mother is Whatta, daughter
is Barbi-Q, son is JR (just ripe) and the dog is a
dachshund named beaner."
There has, to date, been no effort to designate the
Tomato a protected landmark. Despite strong pride and
affection for each local "Big Thing", protection under
the U.S. National Register of Historic Places has been
necessary to preserve the coffee pots, the Catsup Bottle
water tower (in Collinsville, Illinois), and an Elephant
named Lucy (in Margate, New Jersey) — all of which
were threatened with demolition in recent years.
Designation may become an important initiative in the
future, because, as residents of Leamington declare, "We
love our Tomato."