FICTIONAL FRIDAY: SIDONIA

Long after the destruction of our Solar System, the space station city state of Sidonia may be the last remnant of mankind. In the newish Netflix series Knights of Sidonia, we observe what happens when an outsider from the deep and mysterious foundations of the city enters the world above, and goes further into space to fight the monsters that threaten the city's existence.

The city of Sidonia is a curious place. Unlike so many other visions of the future, a certain degree of organised complexity seems to the the principle with which it has been formed. The steel and glass skyscrapers which are at the core so many visions of the future are very absent, and in their place, we find an amazing diversity.

Artificial landscapes, bodies of water and immense structural skeletons of metal actually seem to be complemented by masonry buildings, with facades reminiscent of fortified European architecture, modern Japanese structures and weightless Middle Eastern villages stacked on top of each other. 

Hipped roof with terracotta tiles and what looks like green copper cladding, external staircases, courtyards, cloisters and even streetscapes give these conglomerates a wonderful amount of variation. Especially interesting is the way it all seems to have grown over time, with additions, nooks, balconies, bridges and towers. However, it all comes together as a rather harmonious-looking built environment, forming an effective background for the dramatic actions of the series. I'm fascinated.

PS. If you'd like to check out some real world-attempts at the same thing, check out the work of Ricardo Bofill, or MVRDV's Vertical Village concept.

MY FAIR LADY/LONDON BRIDGE

"You disgrace to the noble architecture of these columns!" - Henry Higgins in George Bernard Shaw's Pygmalion, the play on which the musical and film My Fair Lady is based

The other day, a friend of mine suggested we should go see the new Oslo production of this timeless piece of musical silliness, and suddenly, I was humming the old children's song with lines that go like this:

London Bridge is falling down,
Falling down, falling down,
London Bridge is falling down,
My fair lady.

According to Wikipedia's excellent article about this verse, which is referencing Studwell, 1996, this is probably (???!?) where the musical took its name from. The rhyme is part of an old song about building a bridge using all sorts of materials (wood and clay will was away, iron and steel will bend and bow, etc.). A charmingly illustrated note sheet from 1877 looks like this:

I'm not really sure which one of these guys is the architect, but the old architect's symbol can be found on top of the stone plate being carried by that really muscular man. Maybe it's him?

London Bridge in the late 19th century

London Bridge is a name that has been carried by several bridges throughout the ages. The one pictured on the note sheet was only 40 years at the time, replacing a medieval bridge which stood 30 m downstream. The 1831 bridge was later bought and moved to Arizona, USA, by Robert McCulloch, for a new planned community called Lake Havasu City, after this bridge had been slowly sinking into the Thames since the end of the 19th century. (Nasty rumors have it that he thought he was buying the iconic Tower Bridge.)

Not London Bridge

The reconstructed bridge was finished in 1971, and was in London replaced by a neutrally looking concrete bridge.

The reconstructed London Bridge in Arizona

The current London Bridge

The coolest bridge, though, was the medieval one. Construction began in 1176, but wasn't finished before 1209, 33 years later. Then again, this bridge would last for another 600 years.

From the very beginning, houses with shops, dwellings, water wheels, squares and chapels were built on top of London Bridge, almost forming a continuous street instead of giving the feeling of walking on a bridge. This was partially done to pay for the extremely expensive construction, but also looked really neat.

The infamous Nonsuch house (as in 'nothing quite like it') was perhaps the most outstanding building on the bridge, and can be seen in the middle of this picture. (It's the one with the red, yellow and white facade, topped by four blue onion domes.) To cross the bridge, you actually had to go right through many of the houses, out of which several leaned as far as seven feet out over the water.

The bottom picture shows London Bridge c. 1750, shortly before all the houses were demolished to make way for traffic. The bridge itself stood until 1831, when it was replaced by the bridge now standing in Arizona.

And then only one question remains: Who was this Fair Lady? There are several suggestions, but here's the one I found a picture of, Matilda of Scotland. She was a consort of King Henry I, and oversaw the building of several bridges in 12th century England:

(Picture credits: Wikimedia Commons, except the ones of Audrey Hepburn and Nonsuch House, which I frankly don't quite know who owns.)

FICTIONAL FRIDAY!

Why are there dinosaurs walking in this street? I'll tell you why: Because this is a painting from the fictional land of Dinotopia.

Welcome to Fictional Friday! For quite some time now, I've been interested in fantastical and fictional  architecture and urbanism from books, tv, films, computer games etc, and I've decided to start sharing some on this blog every Friday. 

The opening archifiction is from James Gurney's Dinotopia. The Dinotopia series started with the publication of the first book in 1992, and made up of beautiful and compelling stories, set in a land where dinosaurs and human live together, in (mostly) peace and harmony . To me, however, what remains most interesting, is all the architecture and urbanism Gurney imagined for this world. Everything from farms and small villages to great cities and monuments fill the pages of these beautifully executed books. The references go to Italy, to Gaudi and Maya architecture among other things, and the result is an eclectic and intriguing mix that is both traditional and humanistic, and yet something very different. 


Gurney's drawings and paintings are almost nostalgic, all bearing a picturesque quality and warm glow which I'm sure is what captured my imagination when I forst got to know the work. Now, however, I think it's just as interesting to see how different scales meet in buildings and streets that are made for both dinosaurs and humans, like the different stairs in the top picture, or to see how the needs of humans and the dinosaurs can both be covered and combined through design solutions.

Great books, herebu recommended to all lovers of fictional architecture and good stories.

The first picture shows Steep street in Waterfall city, where one of the main protagonists lives. 


This next one is a view from above, where visitors to the city are getting ready to enter the only way possible, via the air:

A view along one of the channels of Waterfall city. there are no really narrow streets in Dinotopia.

A detail of Waterfall city, with the huge globe and flying creatures transporting people back and forth.

Gurney often makes maquettes for the design of buildings. I think he makes photographs and then paints after them. That's at least how he usually makes paintings and drawings of people.

The Hatchery, a sort of farm, where the protagonists of the story are first taken when they arrive in Dinotopia.

An almost-too-cute village of tree-shaped houses, borrowing some shapes form gothic architecture, built in an unknown material (maybe concrete?). In this painting, Gurney seems somewhat influenced by his infamous college friend, the late Thomas Kinkade.

Thermala, a "village" high up in the mountains of Dinotopia. No dinosaurs up here, only pre-Ice age-looking mammals. A place to stop while on the way to the


Tentpole of the Sky: Featuring Tibetan-looking architecture and old Tibetan-looking guys, this is a monastery of sorts built for seclusion and isolation. This image also shows how his paintings are based on drawings.

Treetown, where houses are built at the hight of the heads of tall dinosaurs. This way humans and their tall friends can talk together face-to-face.

It's nice to have dinosaur friends when you've lost your thingy in the water.

Street scene from the city of Pooktook. Gaudiesque architecture on the right.

This painting was actually made before the books were written. The surroundings were later given the name of "Sauropolis", and named the capital of Dinotopia. The scene is copied for less than a second at the very end of Star Wars Episode 1.

Saurpolis from above. Very classical-looking.

Approaching Sauropolis from the water. Note the Triceratops head on the keystone.


Finally, be sure to visit James Gurney's blog, from which several of these pictures were stolen.

LØKKE BRIDGE

I was hanging around Sandvika (Yes, I know) the other day, when I stumbled upon this beautiful brigde, spanning and being reflected by the Sandvika river. I googled around a bit after taking the picture, and it turns out this is Norway's oldest cast-iron bridge, designed and built by Count Herman Wedel Jarlsberg in 1829. It spans 22,5 meters, is 5 meters wide and is only used for pedestrian traffic.

Already partly hidden by greenery, the bridge now looks pastoral and cute, but I imagine that it must have looked very fresh and modern in its time. I like the circle-shaped holes in the sides, which, I suppose, are there to take some weight off it. While cast-iron is a great material, often providing a handmade look and a finely textured surface, it's also very heavy.

I also found out that I'm not the only one who's been inspired by this subject. In the winter of 1895, one of my favourite painters, Claude Monet, spent some time in Sandvika, and among his paintings from the time you'll find this one, depicting Løkke bridge in it's original location further down the river. You can find versions of it both in the Norwegian National Gallery and at the Art Institute of Chicago.

BEFORE THE CARS

Yesterday, the bus gave up on getting us into the city centre and instead dumped us right outside of it. Nairobi is full of traffic and congestion, probably because of all the people driving in their of own cars instead of using public transport, and the fact that the CBD (the tall buildings in the background) has almost no apartments, so people who work there have to spend a lot of time travelling there and back again every day.

Anyway.

When we arrived, we saw that many people were walking towards and on this bridge. There were people selling fruit, and clothes, playing music, chatting, burning things (they seem to have an affinity for burning things in this country) and looking bewildered. We decided to follow, and it turned out that this is a highway that's still being built. In between all the others, there were people in yellow helmets trying to finish it. There were huge cracks every 20th metre or so, which I guess explains why the cars haven't arrived yet. Actually, I'm even sure they should finish it. Research shows that expanding roads only leads to more people using their cars, so that capacity doesn't really increase. Maybe it would be better to keep the life and the people, use it as a new urban space and build some houses and workshops or something on and under it?

MATHEMATICAL BRIDGE

A combination of events has led to my suddenly developing a keen interest in old university architecture. While I was reading (that's archispeak for looking at pictures) the article about Cambridge on Wikipedia, I saw a picture of this interesting piece of construction:

It's the Mathematical Bridge, spanning the river Cam and connecting two parts of Queen's College, Cambridge. The name derives from the techinque of tangent and radial trussing, providing an efficient use of timber, while also creating a beautiful and almost organic skelton-like look.

If you like it, you should also have a look at the article about the now lost Old Walton Bridge.