THE ARCHIVE

Italy may be known primarily for pizza and pasta, but its culinary expertise extends far beyond fine-grain foods.  Two summers ago, my friend Annie set out on a two-month mission to collect regional recipes with the flavors of Italy, but without the gluten.  The best of these have recently been published in her cookbook “Olio, Aglio.”

Here’s an explanation from Annie:

“Olio Aglio, translated means literally “oil, garlic”. It is an Italian cookbook created specifically for Celiacs and those following a gluten free diet. … The recipes are split into four categories based on the four regions: Trentino-Alto Adige is full of hearty meals, Tuscany has many fresh oil and wine based recipes, Puglia has the seafood, and Sicily wraps it together with delicious desserts.”

Copies of Olio Aglio are available online from AuthorHouse books. Click here to order yourself a copy directly from the publisher. Also, check out Annie’s blog “Silly What?” for more information and sample recipes.

Saturday morning, those of us studying history with Mary Woods wrestled ourselves out of bed and headed downtown to the Staten Island Ferry. On the other side — after a free ride past Governors Island and the Statue of Liberty — we climbed aboard a Park Service bus and headed toward Freshkills Park.

The weekend excursion followed in the footsteps of Gordon Matta-Clark, who gained fame in the 1970’s for artistic mischief in the outer boroughs. Like all of us, Matta-Clark studied architecture at Cornell, but he rejected the discipline and launched himself into the New York art scene with works that he dubbed “anarchitecture”. These exposed the volatility of the city (and its structures) through building cuts, social and culinary experiments, and other acts of creative recklessness.

With irony and respect, our history of architecture class now honors Gordon Matta-Clark with the unofficial course title, “What Would Gordon Do?” Besides obviously referencing Jesus Christ, this title captures the essence of our course. Throughout the semester, we look at a series of neighborhoods in New York through the historical and theoretical lens of Matta-Clark. His life and work pervade the city and provide a launching point for discussion and debate. What would Gordon do if he were presented with the largely gentrified city that exists today? Do the changes over the past thirty years represent progress? Where do opportunities for intervention still exist?

The weekend field trip to Staten Island provoked all of these questions.  The bus took us to Fresh Kills landfill to explore a site that gained fame as the world’s largest trash heap. In 1972, Gordon Matta-Clark visited this same site under much different circumstances and produced a video documenting the mountains of residential waste, the machinery that moved them, and the seagulls that feasted on the decay. (click the image to play film)

In 2001 the landfill officially closed and became New York City’s second largest park – three times the size of Central Park. The landscape firm Field Operations developed a site strategy and the land will be incrementally re-purposed over the next 30-years. Although the park remains closed to the public, there are many opportunities to visit with members of the park service, who lead weekly informational and bird-watching tours. More information is available on the park service’s website.

The site today is strikingly clean with four man-made hills covered in long grass.  One might not think twice about the rolling landscape if it weren’t for the occasional metal well-heads that vent gas from the decomposing rubble underneath. These, however, cause little disruption to the sprawling views and reflect the cool austerity of much larger infrastructural fragments below. Gordon Matta-Clark may not have envisioned a park here, but the idea now seems well within reach.

Images of a landfill: past, present, future.

Rarely do I rub elbows with world-famous architects, but this Friday night I found myself chatting alongside Richard Meier at Cornell’s studio in Chelsea. As strange as it may seem, the encounter didn’t involve a lecture or design review. It involved cake.

The evening festivities were organized to celebrate Richard Meier’s 75^th birthday. Dean Kleinman hatched the idea a few weeks ago as a friendly gesture to Meier (who serves on the Dean’s council) and as a fun occasion for students in the NYC program to meet one of Cornell’s more prolific architecture alums. In preparation, students designed an interactive birthday card (above) in Meier’s own style and decorated (ahem, cleaned) the studio space to avoid offending the well-known king of clean.

After a brutal week of mid-term reviews and presentations, we welcomed the opportunity to unwind with a bit of free food and drink. And although none of us had much experience throwing birthday parties for celebrities, everything went quite smoothly. Feelings of trepidation were overcome and Richard (with whom I now consider to be on a first name basis) proved to be friendly, gracious, and surprisingly easy-going.

Upon his arrival, he congratulated us on attending the #1 architecture school in the world and suggested with a smile that we might even be the best architecture students. We laughed – awkwardly — to avoid any misplaced vanity that his comment might have provoked. After the ice-breaker and a few words from the organizers, the evening proceeded informally with ample quantities of food, song, and conversation.

After conducting a proper survey of the buffet table, I landed myself in front of Richard Meier and tossed him my first piece of conversational bait. He eagerly spoke about the Ara Pacis museum in Rome and the adjacent (and neglected) Mausoleum of Augustus. This led to a conversation about Cornell’s Rome program and the comparative merits of that versus “AAP in NYC”.

Along with newly appointed chair of architecture Dagmar Richter, we engaged in an interesting discussion about the future of architecture courses and coops in New York City. Meier offered plenty of advice and we brainstormed various ways that the program might be improved or expanded in the coming years.

As the evening wore on, Richard Meier and the other mature folk parted ways, leaving us with left-overs to eat, a sound system to pump, and projectors on which to play an assortment of youtube videos. It goes without saying that an impromptu dance party commenced. My only regret? That Richard Meier never showed us his moves.

Frida Kahlo & Wolverine: home-grown unibrow, hand-made claws.

This Tuesday I experienced the first MRI scan of my life at the Citigroup Biomedical Imaging Center. The entire procedure and follow-up survey took less than two hours and I earned $70 in cold hard cash. This proves that selling one’s body to science is a much more lucrative pastime than blogging for Cornell, but for the time being I will continue to do both.

The MRI came on the heels of another research session where I answered questions and played a series of simple video games. This time I played video games in the machine with little buttons and sensors attached to my hands. The experience had the surreal and futuristic qualities that I generally associate with Star Wars. They laid me down on a plank, wrapped me up in blankets, and stabilized my head inside a plastic cage. As I lay in the enormous cyclone of machinery, they watched my vital signs and spoke to me reassuringly through a raspy headset. The scan progressed and James Earl Jones spoke to me about the wonders of Madagascar.

In the adjacent room, two researchers and a technician analyzed digital renderings of my head as I reacted to various types of stimulation. They promised to send me a video of my brain in the next few days, but in the meantime I have included this picture (of someone else) for effect. It looks pretty cool, right?

The two-year Solar Decathlon saga came to an end this weekend with Cornell’s Silo House in 7^th place overall. Team Germany won the competition again with a power-churning photovoltaic box and Illinois claimed second with their well-insulated “vernacular” mobile home.

It would be a lie to say that these results were well received by Cornell or the architectural community. The Solar Decathlon competition – which has always been extremely restrictive – seemed to be rewarding the wrong things. Brawny photovoltaic systems collected a windfall of points whereas creative architectural solutions were all but overlooked.

Cornell team members returned to Ithaca this week proud of their accomplishments but frustrated with the competition. In an attempt to shed light on the situation, the Cornell Daily Sun asked me to write an article exploring some key issues. My feeble attempt at doing so appeared in today’s paper and is linked below:

SOLAR DECATHLON IN THE DARK

Oct. 21, 2009

Shock and disbelief were the only two feelings stronger than nausea when judges announced the results for architecture at the recent Solar Decathlon competition in Washington, D.C. After a two-year, Herculean effort, Cornell’s Solar Decathlon team (CUSD) had produced an innovative house of remarkable craftsmanship. Its peculiar form and materiality exerted an uncanny architectural magnetism, attracting the press and public and eliciting praise and pride from everyone involved.

So it came as a surprise last week when this dynamic work of architecture earned 16th place in a pool of 20 solar-powered homes >> go to full article

Homecoming events never seemed very cool when I was studying in Ithaca as an undergrad. But since I am now studying in New York City (still an undergrad but no need to dwell on that), I felt a strange urge to go back and reconnect with my alma mater. Friends from the Class of 2009 were back in full force, eager to escape their professional lives for a long-anticipated weekend of college fun.

I traveled up to Ithaca on Friday and many of the fields along the highway were covered in snow. This seemed unusual for mid-October but I’ve learned never to underestimate upstate New York.

Upon arrival I scoured the campus for some time and discovered that little had changed except for a bit of long grass on Libe Slope, a glass monstrosity lodged between Baker and Rockefeller, and a vast pit of mud in the parking lots behind Sibley Hall. The later (pictured above) marks the arrival of Milstein Hall and, in the distance, the new wing of the Johnson Art Museum. Both projects appear in a nascent state at this point, but are expected to begin taking shape by this spring.

I met up with several friends and we quickly realized that we no longer had a “home base.” The old-geezer alumni consider the Marriot Hotel their home base, but we had neither the resources nor the nerve to do such a mature thing. Instead, like so many young-alumni (and fifth-year-architecture-students-studying-in-new-york), we decided to crash with friends.

Many of my younger friends at Cornell are “brothers” in the Delta Chi fraternity. They were kind enough to host several kids from my class and feed us continuously throughout the weekend. On Saturday, the homecoming tailgate and events were markedly Greek. Students donned hoodies with their fraternity and sorority letters prominently displayed alongside the Cornell football logo – pretending for one day that we are a Pac 10 school.

I had a blast in Ithaca over the weekend but, aside from good memories, the only thing I brought back with me to New York is a lousy cold. Repeated exposure to grimy subway cars and public buses on two continents in the past year never caused more than a sniffle, but two nights at Cornell have left me wiped out — increasing evidence that the campus has truly become a bastion of contagion.

This past weekend, I succeeded in checking three major activities off my New York City To-Do list. To be completely honest, I only did one thing that had been on my list. I did the other two things sporadically and subsequently added them to my list and crossed them off. Sometimes I question the purpose of lists. Anyway, it was a great Fall Break and I thought I’d give you the run-down:

>> Modern Art at the Whitney Museum

The Whitney Museum is located just up the street from my dorm room on the southeast corner of 75^th and Madison. I’ve noticed the granite façade of the Marcel Breuer building a couple times before but never managed to step inside and pay the $12 dollar student fee. On Friday, however, I mustered the energy to check it out—just in time to catch the end of the Dan Graham exhibition “Beyond.” The temporary shows, permanent collection, and building itself were substantially cooler than I had expected, and—whereas most museums systematically put me to sleep—I left the Whitney feeling good about life and art and Modernism and expensive New York museums.

I especially enjoyed seeing/experiencing Dan Graham’s reflective glass structures in the temporary show “Beyond”. That has unfortunately already come to an end, but there are two other exhibitions worth checking out that will be up through the end of the year: Georgia O’Keeffe: Abstraction and A few Frames: Photography and the Contact Sheet. The works in the later exhibition explore issues of time and space through multiplicity and sequencing—very cool for the architecturally or cinematically minded visitor.

>> Still Life at the MCC Theater

On Saturday night, a few friends and I went downtown to see the Off-Broadway play “Still Life” currently showing at the MCC Theater. The lights dimmed before I could read the Playbill, leaving me unprepared for the tragic plot that would quickly unfold on stage.  Still Life recounts the uneventful but emotionally charged story of Generation X, the generation that was promised the world but couldn’t decide what to do with it. The play addresses fear and death and insecurities — typical fodder for playwrights but well crafted and relevant.

To keep this story short, the play got under my skin. I bought into the actors and fell for them harder than I have for anyone on the silver screen; there emotion was as tangible as that of a friend or family member. It was good theater. If you’re exhausted by the song and dance of Broadway but still interested in quality acting, I recommend checking this play out before it ends on November 1^st.

>> The Daily Show with Jon Stewart

On Tuesday, I met my friend in line to see a taping of The Daily Show with Jon Stewart. Feeling lucky to have pinned down two free tickets for the show, we waited eagerly alongside families that had booked their tickets six months in advance.

After a long wait and some coaching from interns and security personnel, we entered the studios and took our seats in front of the radiating blue and orange stage set that has become synonymous with quality news casting. A comedian came out to greet us, explain the routine, and crack a few of his own jokes. Jon Stewart arrived shortly thereafter and fielded a few questions from the crowd. His comedic chops were equally impressive on and off script.

Within minutes of Jon Stewart’s arrival, overhead screens lit up, crewmembers swarmed, lights flared, and cameras started flying. The show progressed at the same pace that it does on television with only brief pauses for commercial breaks and a special correspondent segment with John Oliver. After 30 minutes, everyone promptly dispersed and we shuffled back out into the daylight. A highly anticipated, extremely amusing, and surprisingly abrupt afternoon spent in New York.

The long awaited competition has arrived and Cornell looks poised to claim its fair share of attention – and points – on the National Mall in Washington, DC.  For those uninitiated to the idea of “Solar Decathlon,” let me briefly explain: Every two years, the Department of Energy invites twenty college and university teams to design, build, and operate a home completely powered by the sun. In October, these houses are transported and assembled in DC, creating a “solar village” between capital hill and the Washington monument. Teams are then judged throughout a two-week period and assigned points in ten categories ranging from architectural design to engineering and market viability.

The Cornell Solar Decathlon team (CUSD) participated in 2005 and 2007 with varying degrees of success. Combining the experience of returning team members with the talent of new ones, the CUSD 2009 team gathered together two years ago and resolved to push at the limits of the competition — to literally break the mould. Up until that point, the “mould” had been rectangular houses that looked more or less like decorated shoe-boxes on wheels (They had been criticized as such by more than a few architects). Thus, we organized a design studio with veteran professor Jerry Wells who fueled the collective architectural ambition of the team. The top design would be selected by a closed jury and executed by CUSD.

The jury chose a project that secured either the wild success or horrible failure of CUSD.  There would be no middle ground. The 2009 design, now dubbed the “Silo House,” departed dramatically from the typical solar house.  It consisted of three circular living zones clustered around a square courtyard with horizontal photovoltaic panels hovering above.  The novelty of the shapes, compounded with the transportation and assembly requirements of Solar Decathlon, presented a logistical and technological nightmare. Less than a year ago, there were still many doubts that a bunch of students could really pull it off.

Somehow, despite early setbacks and a nagging recession, the CUSD house arrived on the National Mall in spectacular condition earlier this week. Students, faculty, staff, alumni, and local professionals worked collaboratively to turn early sketches and ambition into physical reality.

The resulting house is currently on display to the public throughout the week at the National Mall. I am heading down this weekend to check it out and see what the other 19 teams have been working on over the past two years. This year’s Solar Decathlon should be a good one and anyone in the area ought to check it out.  Information about tours and events can be found online at solardecathlon.org.  Also, you can track the team’s performance on the continually updated scoring page or find out more about the CUSD house on the team website.

Lately my eyes have been peeled for flyers offering free food or drinks to medical students—but rather than discovering another surgical keg party, I came upon an invitation to participate in a medical study conducted by researchers at Cornell University. Instead of free booze, the flyers in our elevator offered volunteers cold, hard cash. If the study caused any emotional or physical harm, I figured I could use the money to buy booze.  Otherwise, I would treat myself to some good food on the town.  It was a win-win situation.

I emailed the coordinator yesterday and answered a few questions over the phone about my relatively uneventful health history.  I qualified for two separate studies and scheduled the appointments for earlier today.  The studies were expected to take about three hours and I would be paid a total of $75.

I have never been paid so well for a small sample of saliva and a cup of urine—in fact I have never been paid at all for those things.  Aside from these samples (for genetic and drug testing), I completed a series of cognitive tests, computer games, and questionnaires. The computer games were the hardest for me, seeing as my gaming skills never developed much beyond Tetris. They required the player to recognize an expression, shape, or color and press the associated key on the keyboard. I would have done alright if not for a strange digital dyslexia that has not affected my hands since piano lessons as a child. Luckily, no one but the researchers will ever see my results.

In a couple weeks, I plan to return for a follow up session with one of the psychiatric researchers.  It involves an MRI test and a curious social experiment to see if I can make friends with other participants by writing “notes” to them. This time, they are offering cash AND a free picture of my brain. I can’t wait.