THE ARCHIVE

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.

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.

A few weeks ago, I traveled downtown to see and explore the empty site of the World Trade Centers—now commonly referred to as Ground Zero. I heard that they had built a viewing platform near the site but discovered a situation of disorder and ambiguity.  The pit (a description that remains accurate eight years after-the-fact) is entirely wrapped in chain link fence and canvas, blocking all but slivers of activity from sight. Signs led me around the construction to the Battery Park City sky-walk where views were tangential at best.

In the end, the thing that affected me most during my brief visit to Ground Zero was not the site itself.  Rather, I was moved by the actions of a silent Asian woman selling an ensemble of books and brochures with charged images of the twin towers before their collapse.  Bold letters across each cover spelled out a single, marketable word: T R A G E D Y.

After this first scattered and unnerving encounter with ground zero, I jumped at the opportunity to visit the site—and hear about its future—from two Cornell architecture alumni in a more organized format.  A trip was arranged by Stephanie Goto for all interested students at the AAP in NYC program. We gathered at the newly constructed WTC 7 where we met Osamu Sassa, an architect who works with the Japanese firm of Fumihiko Maki.

Mr. Sassa brought us up to the tenth floor of Tower 7 where the World Trade Center design teams have been pooled together. From the higher vantage point, we were able to see and delineate the newly formed footprints of towers, museum, and memorial. In the Image above (click to enlarge), it is possible to see the new “spine” crossing what was once a mega-block.  This is the nascent Greenwich Street which will eventually be flanked on the left by towers and on the right by the park and memorial fountains. The far right of the image shows the initial steel members of the Freedom Tower, which is expected to rise over the next four years to the symbolic height of 1,776 ft.

Turning away from this panorama, we focused in on Maki’s design of Tower 4. Mr. Sassa explained its sculptural qualities, its engagement with the ground plane, and its subtle reflection of the adjacent memorial. The building is undeniably simple—but in the thoughtful and precise manner characteristic of Japanese design.  This simplicity may prove to be Tower 4’s saving grace as construction begins under financial pressure; the more complex buildings of Richard Rogers and Norman Foster appear to be on hold.

Many of the architects, engineers, and consultants who had been working collaboratively on the tenth floor of Tower 7 have retreated back to their own turf to weather the economic storm. While construction teams work furiously to build massive foundations, no one is completely sure what will appear above.  If lending remains tight, towers face a literal (and figurative) chopping block.

More information regarding the World Trade Center site can be found online at wtc.com

Living here at Cornell’s medical campus offers an interesting perspective into the lives of med students. Our kitchen functions as the main social hub in the dorm and bears witness to a host of communal and culinary activities. Study sessions one night are followed by celebrations the next — the intensity of both activities being directly proportional to the difficulty of the intervening exam.

I glanced at notes on the table and remembered how much I dislike molecular science. Chemical structures never seemed quite as interesting to me as inhabitable ones. Studying architecture, however, doesn’t prevent me from flirting with the idea of becoming a doctor.  I live in a med-school dormitory and have a bona fide identification card — I just need to start attending classes and I will be on the fast track to success.

With this in mind, I have been keeping my eye out for information regarding my future, hypothetical career.  Medical flyers litter the bulletin boards on each floor. One poster encouraged students to attend a lecture concerning H1N1, another invited us to a special conference about healthcare. But one flyer, in particular, caught my attention:

“Interested in surgery? Love beer? You just hit the jackpot!” At the bottom of the page, after some further details, they offer a convincing — if not simplistic – reason to attend the event:  “Surgery is awesome (and there will be a keg. Seriously.)”

I’ve always been intrigued by surgery and I do like beer.  Joining the the Stimson Surgical Society suddenly seemed like a good idea.  Then I remembered my best friend talking about anatomy class and the gruesome dissection videos that he sent me. Cutting up bodies for a living is a gory business. Maybe that’s where the beer comes into play — it calms the nerves.

But consider the implications of this poster.  Do all beer-lovers become surgeons?  If so, it’s likely that other medical specialties have their own drink-of-choice.  Wine for cardiologists, jungle juice for pediatricians, gin and tonic for dermatologists, daiquiris for family practitioners — the list could go on and on.  An entire healthcare system consuming and consumed by alcohol.

On Saturday morning, some friends and I piled into my car and drove down to the inlet of Cayuga Lake to watch the men’s lightweight and heavyweight crew races. By 9:00am, the regatta had already attracted a substantial crowd with clusters of athletes and fans on both sides of the course, on the bridges, and in front of the Boatyard Grill.

Cornell’s lightweight squad raced Dartmouth for the Baggaley Cup while the heavyweight men raced Princeton and Yale for the Carnegie Cup. In an hour and a half, we witnessed complete Cornell domination on the water as they swept all varsity and junior varsity events. With good race conditions, hometown support, and a new coaching staff, the rowers capitalized on their (intensive) winter training.

The biggest race of the morning was the men’s varsity heavyweight (1v) race against Princeton and Yale. Both visiting teams can boast extremely successful rowing programs with a number of national titles. It was exciting, therefore, when the loudspeaker announced that the Cornell rowers had gained open water (a boat-length advantage) over both crews within the first half of the 2k race. When the boats came into sight at 1,500 meters, the Big Red had taken a healthy lead and hammered toward the finish line with a good view of the Tigers and Bulldogs fighting for second place.

The win continues the first boat’s undefeated season and puts them in good standing for the upcoming Eastern Sprints and national championship races.

Early this morning, architecture students converged on the Arts Quad to begin work on a “monumental and unique” installation designed by visiting professors Mauricio Pezo, Sofia von Ellrichshausen and Yehre Suh.

The site-specific project, called “FIELD”, is comprised of 2,800 red mesh bags stuffed with straw and placed in a 10ft x 10ft grid that stretches across the quad between Olin Library and Sibley Hall. This intervention (which might be the largest in the history of our campus) is appropriately timed on the 40-year anniversary of the famous “Earth Art” exhibition held at Cornell University in 1969. That event brought together twelve important artists and has been credited for launching the influential Land Art movement.

The FIELD installation is not merely a commemoration of the past, nor is it a direct representation of anything in particular. Like other works of Land Art, FIELD is un-curated and open to interpretation.

Throughout the day, people passing by the Arts Quad were very inquisitive. “What’s going on? What does this represent? What’s your message?” They asked these questions assuming that a quick response might substitute for the power and subtlety of visual communication. A few people simply assumed that we were political activists calling attention to victims of war in Gaza or some such catastrophe.

We explained to one woman that we were working on an art installation and she asked in confusion, “Insulation? Why do you need to insulate the ground now that it’s warm out?”

Interestingly, there is a great range of meaning that can be assigned to the FIELD project. It references the agrarian tradition of campus, the shifts in topography, formalism and versatility, the harvest, temporality, etc. etc. Probably more important than any of this, however, is the spatial effect that the bags have on the Arts Quad. The grid of points generates a strong visual impact and invites people to perceive the space differently.

FIELD will remain on the Arts Quad until Tuesday afternoon. I am currently studying with the Chilean Architects Pezo and Sofia (two of the three organizers). If you are interested in the artistic and architectural work of their young firm, I encourage you to check out their website: pezo.cl

Throughout the semester, I have been working as a teaching assistant for a course called Structural Systems. Aside from attending lectures, each student in the class conducts a case study project wherein they select, research, and model an existing contemporary building.

Over the years, structures models have become increasingly accurate and complex. The construction process takes several weeks and requires a variety of tools and technologies. The resulting models are awe-inspiring. Anyone can appreciate the incredible degree of detail and craft invested in these miniature structures.

I encourage those of you in Ithaca to check out the show this week at Hartell Gallery (underneath the Sibley Dome). A reception will be held on Wednesday, April 8th at 4:45pm and models will remain on display until Friday afternoon.

View past structures models at the course website.

The Cornell Design League (CDL) presented its 25th annual fashion show in Barton Hall on Saturday. The show included more than 200 outfits designed by 60 students from throughout the University. Several friends were participating in the event as designers and/or models, so I thought I’d check it out.

I was very sceptical at first that Cornell students could put on a good fashion show. I suspected that the amateur designers in the Department of Apparel Design would play it safe by emulating popular styles. But I came for a show and hoped to see outfits that were innovative, humorous, or even shocking. What’s the point of going to a fashion show if it’s not a spectacle?

This year’s event walked a fine line between J. Crew catalogue, Avant-garde, and dress-up box fashion. Some pieces were ordinary or tacky while others sparked interest and applause. A few of the most interesting were made by architecture students who used the lasercutter to generate precise shapes and patterns.

The best complete line, in my opinion, was called “outside the box.” The designer dragged a chest onto the stage and started pulling objects out from within. Each of these things (a lamp, a neck tie, a book, a bird cage, etc.) inspired an outfit that corresponded materially or symbolically to the source material. The process seemed simple enough, but the resulting dresses were clever and surprising. I’d like to add some more objects to the box and see what outfits they might inspire. (window shades, pizza, notebook paper, and dirty socks are some initial ideas)

On Sunday night I returned to Barton Hall for a completely different event. The CDL runway had been disassembled, chairs were removed and a stage stood ready for the sold-out Girl Talk concert.

After the opening act, students swarmed around the stage and waited excitedly for the main performance. Girl Talk arrived in a grey sweat suit and hunched over his laptop to select songs. Within minutes, he stripped down to his bare chest and danced frantically alongside students on stage.

If you are unfamiliar, Girl Talk is a “mashup” artist who combines other people’s songs into a continuous stream of dance music. Despite his denial, he is often considered a glorified DJ. Nevertheless, he put on a good show and managed to get the entire crowd in Barton Hall dancing passionately to Kelly Clarkson (something that most would probably like to deny).