04 September 2011
Make-ready: ready!
And here again, but this time alone and in all their glory, those that made the final cut. I love good photography so much, I wish I were better at it; but I really do like these. Enjoy! And thanks again to Margot Miller for the opportunity to explore her apartment, one of the funnest and funkiest I know (and barely janky at all)!
03 September 2011
Make-ready: round 3
I had 150 photographs to choose from. The first selection process narrowed the field to 78; the second to 35; the third to 12. The penultimate elimination left me with nine really strong photos to choose from, but in the end, there was only room for five. Below, on the left, are the originals; on the right, tweaked to bring out the warmth and detail present in person that may not have shown up as well in the originals. (I feel like this is using PhotoShop for good and not for evil.)
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Make-ready: round 2
I liked the composition of the photos in the previous post, but for various technical reasons (fuzziness, bad light), I chose not to consider them for the application. The photos below passed all or most of my technical criteria but didn't pass the second round, in which I considered the photos as a set rather than individually. I wanted the photos to tell a cohesive story formally, compositionally, and with their content, and these - while I like most of them very much in themselves! - stood better alone than as part of a group, or simply weren't as compelling as they needed to be.
Margot: I'm claiming no knowledge in advance of the day you come home and this is missing. I mean, you know. If that were to happen.
Compositionally, I couldn't be happier with this photo (though in the final version I would have angled the table a little more steeply and cropped out the magazines). The colors, the forms, the materials all do the heavy lifting - which, of course, is why I called Margot first.
I LOVE THIS CLOCK.
Leaded glass elements in a house that's already so cool = not fair. Margot's house, spread the love!
I feel like I should read one of these, just so I can be fancy like Margot.
I also feel like everyone should have a corner of photos that make them happy.
Make-ready: round 1
I'm in the process of putting together an application that requires both
writing and photography samples. In this process, I'm creating a lot
of work that, while informative and necessary, won't be finding its way
into the final product. In the meantime, I'm pretty proud of some of
it! So I'm sharing them here.
Margot's self-description on Facebook: "biggest midget in the game". From her MINI to her trucker hats, that's a big 10-4.
Sidewalk leading up to the house...
Walkway onto the private property...
The front porch. I don't know about you, but I think I'd like coming home to a stone-clad porch every day.
This was one of the first things I saw when I came to visit. It made me want to throw down a cushion and take a sun nap.
Margot's apartment is on the first floor; the stairwell leading to the units above is just in front of her door. It, like everything else, is clad with natural materials and replete with indirect natural light.
From the living room to the kitchen (with, of course, a needlepoint of Michigan hanging in the pediment)...
From the living room to the bedroom...
And from the bedroom to the living room. For three rooms, her apartment feels wonderfully spacious; the French doors help, as does the orientation of the floorboards. I love my apartment, but I must confess to a certain jealousy of Margot's.
A chair in the bedroom that does nothing but hold up books? Yes please.
It's frustrating when really cool elements don't get their proper due in a drab photograph. More practice needed!
I felt like this photograph was almost really compelling. The colors almost popped; the foreground/background contrast almost really drew you in; the mix between soft and structured elements almost played. Oh well.
The goose lamp, the printer set up to print wirelessly in the fireplace because her lease prohibits open flames, the mini model of her MINI, the Dwells and Vanity Fairs, the hedgehog clock, the dog tail hook, the dark orange velvet chair: I could try, but I think the reasons I love this photograph (and its contents) are nearly countless.
Margot expounds on why the horseshoe is not, in fact, upside down. The short version is that in this orientation, it's pouring luck down on those walking through the door. You know what? I like it!
This photograph was ultimately a failure because I never got the lighting right, but I actually really like the composition. Too bad you can't see it too!
Real cowgirls drink wine. And have cowgirl coasters. Because real cowgirls also treat their furniture nicely.
First of all, the 1950s blue cabinet with the spacey appliances. Second of all, the kitchen table chock full of spices.
These are the cookbooks that a foodie has. Behold, admire, cook me something. (Just kidding.) (Unless you really want to.)
The weird thing is, the permanently-broken intercom manages not to bespeak an absent landlord...or maybe that's just wishful thinking on my part.
21 August 2011
Love is a battlefield
and my brain is a bookmarker. Seriously. I just realized this.
The people closest to me represent the widest range of memory types, from long-term post-seizure brain scramble (it's a real thing! look it up!) to photographic, near eidetic memory. I am situated firmly in between those two extremes; I'm grateful for what my brain chooses to retain, but always frustrated that it isn't better.
That frustration stems from my ability to almost remember anything. That's not a split infinitive; that's the verb. To almost remember. If I'm trying to recall a specific detail of a project about which I've read, I can't; but I can remember (after a moment) where I read it, usually including minutiae like the author, the accompanying graphic, and one or two of the more annoying comments. That's happened more times than I can count. Or if I'm trying to remember a particular punchline by one of my friends, the joke will elude me; but I can remember exactly where we were, and when (sometimes down to the minute!), and what the joke-teller was wearing.
How useless this all is! Why, I plea with my brain, won't it remember what I want it to remember, especially when I want to remember it? I suspect that if I were to try to think of the joke-teller's outfit or that picture, the target would again evade me and I'd have to think around the corners until I finally got to what I wanted.
That's the thing, though; I do, almost always, remember exactly what I'm grasping for, or remember precisely where to look for the information. I don't have the encyclopedic recall I crave, but I have, for better or worse, the next best thing: the recall of the encyclopedic...index.
Maybe that's not a bad thing; maybe not keeping it all in my brain lets there be room for more indices than there would be otherwise! Maybe that's wishful thinking...but maybe that's okay, too.
The people closest to me represent the widest range of memory types, from long-term post-seizure brain scramble (it's a real thing! look it up!) to photographic, near eidetic memory. I am situated firmly in between those two extremes; I'm grateful for what my brain chooses to retain, but always frustrated that it isn't better.
That frustration stems from my ability to almost remember anything. That's not a split infinitive; that's the verb. To almost remember. If I'm trying to recall a specific detail of a project about which I've read, I can't; but I can remember (after a moment) where I read it, usually including minutiae like the author, the accompanying graphic, and one or two of the more annoying comments. That's happened more times than I can count. Or if I'm trying to remember a particular punchline by one of my friends, the joke will elude me; but I can remember exactly where we were, and when (sometimes down to the minute!), and what the joke-teller was wearing.
How useless this all is! Why, I plea with my brain, won't it remember what I want it to remember, especially when I want to remember it? I suspect that if I were to try to think of the joke-teller's outfit or that picture, the target would again evade me and I'd have to think around the corners until I finally got to what I wanted.
That's the thing, though; I do, almost always, remember exactly what I'm grasping for, or remember precisely where to look for the information. I don't have the encyclopedic recall I crave, but I have, for better or worse, the next best thing: the recall of the encyclopedic...index.
Maybe that's not a bad thing; maybe not keeping it all in my brain lets there be room for more indices than there would be otherwise! Maybe that's wishful thinking...but maybe that's okay, too.
18 August 2011
A Blooming Idea
Michigan Idea doesn't exist yet. Wait - does it? I guess it depends on what your definition of "is" is, and not wanting this to devolve into some sort of political or ontological porkbarreling, let's say that it almost does.
What Michigan Idea will be, when it exists, is an archive: a record of interdisciplinary work taking place on the University of Michigan's North Campus - what one recent College of Engineering dean referred to as "the Renaissance Campus". That title is not a stretch when you consider that Music, Theatre, Dance, Art, Design, Architecture, Urban Planning, and every kind of Engineering you can think of is all housed less than a mile from each other (and more than a mile from the rest of campus!). We're a simmering hotbed of creation up here, and it would be great if there were a documenting entity.
Enter ArtsEngine, the brainchild (and only joint initiative, so far) of the four North Campus deans: a non-academic office that facilitates collaboration between the units and helps to increase the transparency of each to the others. Lots of buzzwords? Maybe. But imagine how exciting it could be to a cartographer to know that an engineer and a musician figured out how to set the Michigan coastline to music. (That really happened!) Or how funny it was when Dr. Duderstadt's office was constantly interrupted by motion-sensitive metallic fire conceived and executed by an engineer, an artist and an architect. ArtsEngine, in turn, is sponsoring a student group: Michigan Idea.
Michigan Idea's purpose and projects have been unclear from the start: not from lack of enthusiasm, but more from lack of being able to describe both adequately to themselves and in turn to others. I inherited the sort-of-group and have decided to make it my own personal project: to crystallize its mission and cement the foundation of its continuing legacy.
More on MIdea as it evolves.
What Michigan Idea will be, when it exists, is an archive: a record of interdisciplinary work taking place on the University of Michigan's North Campus - what one recent College of Engineering dean referred to as "the Renaissance Campus". That title is not a stretch when you consider that Music, Theatre, Dance, Art, Design, Architecture, Urban Planning, and every kind of Engineering you can think of is all housed less than a mile from each other (and more than a mile from the rest of campus!). We're a simmering hotbed of creation up here, and it would be great if there were a documenting entity.
Enter ArtsEngine, the brainchild (and only joint initiative, so far) of the four North Campus deans: a non-academic office that facilitates collaboration between the units and helps to increase the transparency of each to the others. Lots of buzzwords? Maybe. But imagine how exciting it could be to a cartographer to know that an engineer and a musician figured out how to set the Michigan coastline to music. (That really happened!) Or how funny it was when Dr. Duderstadt's office was constantly interrupted by motion-sensitive metallic fire conceived and executed by an engineer, an artist and an architect. ArtsEngine, in turn, is sponsoring a student group: Michigan Idea.
Michigan Idea's purpose and projects have been unclear from the start: not from lack of enthusiasm, but more from lack of being able to describe both adequately to themselves and in turn to others. I inherited the sort-of-group and have decided to make it my own personal project: to crystallize its mission and cement the foundation of its continuing legacy.
More on MIdea as it evolves.
12 August 2011
Thesis year looms.
(That actually implies a little more dread than I'm comfortable admitting, and doesn't reveal any of the anticipation I also feel.)
The anticipation has played itself out all summer in voracious reading. I started with some histories of philosophy (Sophie's World, Delacampagne's A History of Philosophy in the 20th Century) in order to more intelligently ground my thinking about my work; and also to lend that thinking a more global and general context than just an architectural read. Also picked up Abraham Maslow's Behavior and Motivation; being a long, long-standing fan of his 'hierarchy', it seemed like now was a good time to delve deeper into his work. Not sure I could have picked a more appropriate work, as far as an intersection between my personal and professional lives; also not sure how I'll incorporate it into my actual work, but I'm finding it fantastically illuminating.
The reading has been deep, dense, and appropriately confusing/helpful. I also wanted to take this time to up the oomph on my representation techniques by working on technical skills, so I've spent a lot of time going through video tutorials and self-created practice exercises. I watched a mix of series and independent productions; of the former, I found lynda.com's tutorial blogger Deke McClelland and his Deke's Techniques and architect Alex Hogrefe's blog the most informative. Below are some of the tests I worked through. Next step is to go back through my own old work and apply what I've learned to real?-world samples.
All things considered, I'm looking forward to thesis work. I'm excited about finding topics to study in-depth, about finding solutions, and about synthesizing all of this with representation. This reminds me more than a little of how I felt just before starting kindergarten: I'm not sure what's coming, but bring it on!
The anticipation has played itself out all summer in voracious reading. I started with some histories of philosophy (Sophie's World, Delacampagne's A History of Philosophy in the 20th Century) in order to more intelligently ground my thinking about my work; and also to lend that thinking a more global and general context than just an architectural read. Also picked up Abraham Maslow's Behavior and Motivation; being a long, long-standing fan of his 'hierarchy', it seemed like now was a good time to delve deeper into his work. Not sure I could have picked a more appropriate work, as far as an intersection between my personal and professional lives; also not sure how I'll incorporate it into my actual work, but I'm finding it fantastically illuminating.
The reading has been deep, dense, and appropriately confusing/helpful. I also wanted to take this time to up the oomph on my representation techniques by working on technical skills, so I've spent a lot of time going through video tutorials and self-created practice exercises. I watched a mix of series and independent productions; of the former, I found lynda.com's tutorial blogger Deke McClelland and his Deke's Techniques and architect Alex Hogrefe's blog the most informative. Below are some of the tests I worked through. Next step is to go back through my own old work and apply what I've learned to real?-world samples.
All things considered, I'm looking forward to thesis work. I'm excited about finding topics to study in-depth, about finding solutions, and about synthesizing all of this with representation. This reminds me more than a little of how I felt just before starting kindergarten: I'm not sure what's coming, but bring it on!
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