THE UNITED STATES OF IN-YOUR-FACE

Pavillion of the USA, World's fair 1900, Paris

Not exactly my definition of beauty, but it sure makes a statement. 1900 must have been a strange time to be alive.

ESCHERESQUE WORKMEN

(M. C. Escher, Dutch graphic artist with a taste for illusions and paradoxical constructions drawn in 2D.)

(Robert Leighton, cartoonist. A short article on how this one was created can be found here.)

SNOW IN FLORIDA

Perhaps you know this very well, but there is a place called Celebration, a small town in Florida, built by the Walt Disney Company. An early example of New Urbanism put into practice, the people in this town seem to be living (that's right, they live there for real) on the very edge of reality as we know it. The idea of letting it snow in Florida is rather surreal by itself, but accompanied by music and voices seeming to come from nowhere in particular, it's beyond weird, seen with my European eyes.

And on the other hand: What if this works for the people who live there? Celebration is a walkable town, and people make real friendships there, just by passing each other by on porches or the sidewalks. At least it's an alternative to suburban sprawl, isn't it? And what are the alternatives? How much "real" traditional urbanism is there in the US?

I'd never live in Celebration, but perhaps we'll have to let fantasy play a bigger part in architecture when dealing with the need for reshaping society to meet the ecological crisis ahead. Is Celebration a definite answer? Absolutely not. Is it an interesting question? I would say yes.

WE BUILT THIS CITY

In my overwhelming contempt for suburbia, I sometimes forget how cool it can be to be a young child there.

ICH BIN EIN HAMBURGER

Yours truly at Hamburg Hauptbahnhof earlier today. The building was constructed in 1906, designed by architects Heinrich Reinhardt and Georg Süssenguth, based on the Galerie des machines. Hamburg is an nice place, and the burger was tasty.

HEY GIRL

FICTIONAL FRIDAY: HANDRAILS OF MIDDLE-EARTH

An architectonical observation from the incredibly funny Youtube channel Cinema Sins in the video counting the sins of the first Hobbit film (which by the way contains loads of cool fictional architecture and urbanism).

But what is the explanation for this? Why no handrails? Might just be because it looks good, but that doesn't explain how no one would try to prevent the thousands of casualties which inevitably would be the result of this policy. Visual pleasure vs. security is a debate in this world as well (just think of the organisations for people with impaired vision, who wants there to be gigantic glowing yellow arrows and stripes absolutely everywhere), but it's quite easy to see who won in this one.

Why not include the whole video:

PALAIS D'ELECTRICITÉ

Ah, those were the days! At the 1900 world's fair in Paris, also called the Exposition Universelle, architectonical decoration was still (very) allowed, and stylishly dressed people would marvel at the amazing new world that the coming century would bring. They had no idea what they were up for.

This optimistic and even enthusiastic buildings was the Palais d'Electricité, simply celebrating the wonder of electricity, which apparently is closely linked with the concept of the semicircle.

One thing is for sure: They don't make 'em like this anymore.

There, right between the legs of the Eiffel tower (which was constructed for an earlier world's fair)

Picture credits: Wikimedia commons

FLYING STUFF

We're one step closer to floating cities, people!

More links under the video on youtube.

URBAN PLANNING ACROSS THE WORLD

Because it's true.

PINK CHURCH

I don't always go to church on Sundays, but when I do, it's a pink church.

I really wish that was true.

Chesme church by architect Yury Felten in St. Petersburg, Russia. Picture credits: Wikimedia Commons (where it was the picture of the day today/yesterday, depending on where in the world you are).

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.)

SCALE (AND ARPEGGIOS)

In architecture, we talk about scale a lot. In my first year spring project, I added a tower to an already quite large barn that I remodeled into a house. The tower was twice as tall as the barn, and I was accused of not understanding the scale of the place.

This autumn, I've been working with urban fabric in a part of Bergen where the buildings and streets have very different scales.

I even have a book called "Scale in Architecture, and let's not forget the architect's scale!

The only problem is this: Every time someone mentions the word 'scale' (including yours truly), I immediately start humming this song. It's unstoppable. Help me.

PS. I love "The Aristocats" (and their house).

FICTIONAL FRIDAY: ROOFED CITY OF THE YEAR 2000

I can't read the text properly, but this is obviously a "*something* city in the year 2000"! Under a wet and rainy sky (Who knew that a chocolate factory predicted climate change 112 years ago?), people are leading happy suspiciously well-lit lives under a roof, enjoying green grass, fountains and masonry buildings with domes and pediments, as well as bicycles, horses, and trams for transportation. Is this vision to blame for the phenomenon of shopping malls? Never mind, Bergen is cold today, so bring me to the year 2000!

FICTIONAL FRIDAY: KITCHEN CLIMBING

I want this!

(Thanks to my classmate Mats Børseth Østang (who by the way is very talented and nice), for showing me this video.)

CRADLE TO CRADLE

A riddle: Why is Palau Güell (1888) like Siljustøl (1939)?
Hint: It has to do with the origin of the materials.

WES AND MATILDA

Today, while sitting at the desk in our classroom with my brilliant fellow student Matilda, who makes the world's most beautiful ink drawings, I suddenly felt like I was part of a Wes Anderson film. It may have had something to do with the amount of symmetry, an element which he uses a lot in his movies. At one point, I felt I was Bill Murray, but now I'm much better, thank you very much.

FICTIONAL FRIDAY: THE HOBBIT

For all lovers of fantasy architecture: This will be great. Get ready to return to pointed arches in Lórien, grass-covered walls and round doors in the Shire, lighweight Art Nouveau in Rivendell and heavy underground Dwarf walls of solid stone. I simply can't wait.

ON WORKING CONDITIONS FOR THE CRAFTSMEN OF MEDIEVAL ARCHITECTURE

KATY PERRY AND THE AESTHETICS OF SURREAL FANTASY

Yes, it's kitschy. Yes, it looks rather fake. But it's also imaginative and kinda cool.

Fictional Friday is a series of posts on my blog, where I present fantastical and fictional architecture from books, television, films, computer games, art etc. every Friday.