On the first day of 2011, I wrote my first post for this blog. Four days and four years later, this is the last. The events of the past few months have put a squeeze on my writing time, and rendered the proposition of writing on this topic a bit more complex. Funding has been secured to establish an urban design resource for the city- the Chattanooga Design Studio. I've been asked to help get the organization up and running, and for the foreseeable future, that is what I'll be up to. I came to the conclusion that a personal blog on urban design couldn't coexist with this new position. I have reservations about my ability to continue writing without getting the new organization in hot water. (Starting a non-profit is going to be difficult enough without the handicap of my big mouth.) But before I go, there are few things to pay off:
-I started with a lament on the Declining Standard of Downtown Building. We might say that things have improved slightly since then. A number of big projects, however, are slated to being soon. The quality of this new development and the contribution to the public realm will show if we're back on track, or if the decline continues.
-From the first word of this blog until the last, the state of Alabama has had a representative in the college football national championship game (and the year before as well). “The last five seasons will go down as the greatest college football run for any state in the country in the entire history of the game. Five years. Two schools. Five national championship game appearances. Four national championships and one near-miss.” While the streak may be over, I don’t believe the ‘Bama dynasty is. We’ll be back.
-Coming in to today, I wasn’t sure how to pay off the cooking angle. Tonight’s dinner was a thunderbolt of inspiration. My cooking over the past four years has been all over the place- molecular cuisine with foams and spherification to asian inspiration, and offal orgies. Of late, I’m back to basics in the form of French classicism. Tonight I made a by-the-book béchamel a la Julia. I added too much pepper, and when I tasted it, I pulled an Anton Ego. This French mother sauce is made by adding scalded milk to a butter/flour roux. It turns out that this is the exact recipe that BaBa (and countless other Southerners) used to make the gravy of biscuit and gravy fame. Béchamel is nothing but a fancy word for gravy. I suppose I've always known this, but this was the first time I realized it. In a parallel universe I would've used this as a departure point for a post on the beauty of simplicity and the possibilities of variations on a theme- a mother sauce. In this universe, I'll simply say that the city is merely a series of variations on basic themes- get the basics right and the city will flourish.
The blog has been a tremendous experience. I’m not sure that I can convey exactly what it's meant to me, but it's been a very special part of my life. In the end, the best thing I can say about it is that it has been fun. When I grow old, some of my fondest memories will be of laying in bed on Saturday and Sunday mornings, soccer on tv in the background, the boys crawling on top of me, computer in lap, writing stories about Chattanooga. Thanks for reading, for your encouraging comments, your retweets, ‘likes’ and forwards. I may write again, but there's no telling when or what I'll write about. 'Til then… Forever and forever, farewell! If we meet again, then we’ll smile.
If not, then this parting was well done.
...on Urban Design in Chattanooga. (and the Big C)
1.05.2015
12.29.2014
That Was Quick
Although it seems like it just started, 2014 is drawing to a close. For as short as it seemed, it was just as sweet. In that spirit, here is a short but sweet year in review...
2014 was a year of travel. Between youth sports, work and personal travel, I’ve been everywhere, man. (In my best Johnny Cash voice)…I’ve been to… New Orleans, Des Moines, Grinnel, Cedar Rapids, Malaga, Granada, Algona, Madison, Montgomery, West Lafayette, Nashville, Columbus, Cambridge, Cordoba, Atlanta, Newark, Knoxville, Auburn, St. Louis, Tuscaloosa, San Jose, Quepos, Birmingham, Boston, Manuel Antonio, Seaside, Chicago, Cincinnati, Davenport, Sidney, South Pittsburgh, Miami, Huntsville, Pachuta…I’ve been everywhere. My friends who are real travelers might scoff at my puny list, but for me, that’s a lot of ground to cover. I didn’t mind at all though- the family accompanied me on many of those trips, and I’ve vaulted up the Delta Medallion chart.
I suspect that the blog has suffered for my travels. This may be true, but I spent some time this morning reviewing the past year of posts, and there are some decent ones in there. Over the past four years I have found a curious pattern. The posts I think are great receive little attention, and the ones I don’t think much of tend to be the ones that the get the most play. This year was no different.
The most viewed post of the year was the one in response to the silly donut mural kerfuffle. Let the record show that the numbers were not due to my writing prowess or insight, but the fact that David Cook linked to it somewhere along the line. (This was one of the humbling reminders that while I feel chuffed to be dealing in hundreds of readers, the real writers deal in thousands and tens of thousands).
The Summer of Sullivan was a tremendous experience. I read everything I could about the man, then traveled the Midwest see his extant works. A lot of great things happened this year, and this experience is near the top of that list. Writing about it as the summer unfolded was one of the great experiences of my life.
There was, of course, plenty to write about here in the Scenic City. I wrote a post in January celebrating all of the great projects that were in the offing for downtown. (Twelve months later a similar list of projects would be more real and more impressive.) A few months later, I told you what I want. And, toward the end of the year we had a little fun.
Looking into the 'ol crystal ball, it appears that next year will be a big one for downtown. I agree with Ms. White, it appears that 2015 will be the Year of the Crane. Bring it on!
2014 was a year of travel. Between youth sports, work and personal travel, I’ve been everywhere, man. (In my best Johnny Cash voice)…I’ve been to… New Orleans, Des Moines, Grinnel, Cedar Rapids, Malaga, Granada, Algona, Madison, Montgomery, West Lafayette, Nashville, Columbus, Cambridge, Cordoba, Atlanta, Newark, Knoxville, Auburn, St. Louis, Tuscaloosa, San Jose, Quepos, Birmingham, Boston, Manuel Antonio, Seaside, Chicago, Cincinnati, Davenport, Sidney, South Pittsburgh, Miami, Huntsville, Pachuta…I’ve been everywhere. My friends who are real travelers might scoff at my puny list, but for me, that’s a lot of ground to cover. I didn’t mind at all though- the family accompanied me on many of those trips, and I’ve vaulted up the Delta Medallion chart.
I suspect that the blog has suffered for my travels. This may be true, but I spent some time this morning reviewing the past year of posts, and there are some decent ones in there. Over the past four years I have found a curious pattern. The posts I think are great receive little attention, and the ones I don’t think much of tend to be the ones that the get the most play. This year was no different.
The most viewed post of the year was the one in response to the silly donut mural kerfuffle. Let the record show that the numbers were not due to my writing prowess or insight, but the fact that David Cook linked to it somewhere along the line. (This was one of the humbling reminders that while I feel chuffed to be dealing in hundreds of readers, the real writers deal in thousands and tens of thousands).
The Summer of Sullivan was a tremendous experience. I read everything I could about the man, then traveled the Midwest see his extant works. A lot of great things happened this year, and this experience is near the top of that list. Writing about it as the summer unfolded was one of the great experiences of my life.
There was, of course, plenty to write about here in the Scenic City. I wrote a post in January celebrating all of the great projects that were in the offing for downtown. (Twelve months later a similar list of projects would be more real and more impressive.) A few months later, I told you what I want. And, toward the end of the year we had a little fun.
Looking into the 'ol crystal ball, it appears that next year will be a big one for downtown. I agree with Ms. White, it appears that 2015 will be the Year of the Crane. Bring it on!
12.22.2014
Cañas, Caves & Cathedrals
This story starts, as it must, on a soggy Sunday night in a cave in the Sacromonte. While I saw many amazing things in the days and hours leading up to this point, the cave stands out as all wonderfully unexpected experiences do.
The morning started with a stroll around Granada with the Joneses. My fraternity brother Jem had traveled with his lovely wife from Henley-in-Arden to meet us. We milled around the baroque cathedral for a bit before engaging in the now familiar routine: find a spot, order four cañas of cerveza, eat tapas, repeat. Tapas are one of humankind's great conceptions- for every round of drinks one orders, the kitchen serves up a tasty treat. The more one drinks, the better one eats. On this afternoon we had dogfish, boquerones, squid, ibérico ham, croquettes, and I ordered a portion of callos (tripe). This session was what hipster brunch wants to be when it grows up. Although I could have continued along this track for the rest of the day, we had things to see.
By this time, we were playing with house money. Two days prior, the missus and I got to see the Mezquita de Córdoba- truly one of the architectural wonders of the world. A thousand years ago, Córdoba was the intellectual center of western Europe and its most populous city. At the time it was under the rule of Muslims who were tolerant of the Jewish and Christian minorities. The great mosque was constructed and expanded over the course of several centuries. When the Christians conquered Córdoba during the reconquista, a cathedral was constructed square in the middle of the mosque as a sign of the triumph of Christianity over Islam. The result is an interior that is a curious mix of Christian and Islamic symbolism and architectural vocabulary. This was one of the two buildings that I was dying to see, and it did not disappoint.
Fueled by cerveza and tapas, the crew was ready to take on the other architectural marvel on my list. The Alhambra is a magnificent fortified Moorish palace on the Sabika hill in Granada. The walk up the hill, through the forest was quite nice and a fitting procession to the complex. I lack the time and vocabulary to do the Alhambra justice. It is a rich and complex mixture of muscularity, delicacy, and sumptuousness. The Nasrid palaces are described as one of the most beautiful places ever created by the hand of man. It is one of the rare of places that actually lives up to such hype. The bit of incongruity on the site is (once again) due to a Christian intervention. The Palace of Charles V, a renaissance addition within the walls of the compound, is another not-so-subtle monument to the triumph of Christianity over Islam. Charles’ work notwithstanding, the whole of the experience was amazing, and in the end they had to kick us out at closing time. As afternoon gave way to evening, there was only one thing to do…tapear.
Our hotel was in the Albayzín, a medieval neighborhood built up the side of a hill opposite the Alhambra. The agglomeration of buildings creates labyrinthine, cobbled streets not much wider than my outstretched arms. These occasionally give way to small plazas. There is no resisting the charm of the place, but walking up and down the hill to the city center on precariously paved paths is a pain in the ass. After a day walking the Alhambra, we decided to stay up in the Albayzín for the night. This proved to be a wise decision as we had possibly our best tapas experience at a random dive on the top of the hill. Football (soccer) on the tele, cerveza in hand, and tapas on the table- repeat. After a long day of walking, drinking and eating, I was ready for bed. The Englishman, however, had another idea.
Flamenco? Bullshit, said I. Having been raised by a mother and stepfather who both danced and taught ballet, I have some level of appreciation for the art. Despite that appreciation, the idea of going to cave inhabited by gypsies to watch Flamenco did not appeal to me in the least. In the end I was game (largely in part because the restaurant closed, it was 11:00pm on a Sunday, and the caves provided the last hope for vino tinto.) As one might suspect, late Sunday nights are not exactly prime time for performance. Our smooth talking Englishman was able to coax a group of performers to do one last show for us (no doubt on the strength of the pound sterling). We were ushered into the space, a cave with whitewashed walls just wide enough for a row of chairs along each wall with a narrow space to pass between them. For the next hour, the four of us watched five dancers, three guitarists, two singers and a drummer pour their soul into a performance. The cacophony of instruments, voices, handclaps, finger snaps, and foot stamps was stunning, beautiful, and not at all what I expected. The Mosque and the Alhambra were the reasons we traveled to Andalucía, and they did not disappoint. The flamenco, however, was one of those great moments in life when beauty is experienced without the weight of expectation.
Spain is in the books, and its back to work in the Scenic City. 2014 was a great year and I’m thankful for all of the blessings that have come my way. 2015 is shaping up to be a big one, although not without the aforementioned weight of expectation. More on that in a couple of weeks…
In the meantime, have a very merry Christmas and/or a spectacular holiday season!
The morning started with a stroll around Granada with the Joneses. My fraternity brother Jem had traveled with his lovely wife from Henley-in-Arden to meet us. We milled around the baroque cathedral for a bit before engaging in the now familiar routine: find a spot, order four cañas of cerveza, eat tapas, repeat. Tapas are one of humankind's great conceptions- for every round of drinks one orders, the kitchen serves up a tasty treat. The more one drinks, the better one eats. On this afternoon we had dogfish, boquerones, squid, ibérico ham, croquettes, and I ordered a portion of callos (tripe). This session was what hipster brunch wants to be when it grows up. Although I could have continued along this track for the rest of the day, we had things to see.
 |
| Callos. AKA the best tripe dish on the planet. |
Fueled by cerveza and tapas, the crew was ready to take on the other architectural marvel on my list. The Alhambra is a magnificent fortified Moorish palace on the Sabika hill in Granada. The walk up the hill, through the forest was quite nice and a fitting procession to the complex. I lack the time and vocabulary to do the Alhambra justice. It is a rich and complex mixture of muscularity, delicacy, and sumptuousness. The Nasrid palaces are described as one of the most beautiful places ever created by the hand of man. It is one of the rare of places that actually lives up to such hype. The bit of incongruity on the site is (once again) due to a Christian intervention. The Palace of Charles V, a renaissance addition within the walls of the compound, is another not-so-subtle monument to the triumph of Christianity over Islam. Charles’ work notwithstanding, the whole of the experience was amazing, and in the end they had to kick us out at closing time. As afternoon gave way to evening, there was only one thing to do…tapear.
Our hotel was in the Albayzín, a medieval neighborhood built up the side of a hill opposite the Alhambra. The agglomeration of buildings creates labyrinthine, cobbled streets not much wider than my outstretched arms. These occasionally give way to small plazas. There is no resisting the charm of the place, but walking up and down the hill to the city center on precariously paved paths is a pain in the ass. After a day walking the Alhambra, we decided to stay up in the Albayzín for the night. This proved to be a wise decision as we had possibly our best tapas experience at a random dive on the top of the hill. Football (soccer) on the tele, cerveza in hand, and tapas on the table- repeat. After a long day of walking, drinking and eating, I was ready for bed. The Englishman, however, had another idea.
Flamenco? Bullshit, said I. Having been raised by a mother and stepfather who both danced and taught ballet, I have some level of appreciation for the art. Despite that appreciation, the idea of going to cave inhabited by gypsies to watch Flamenco did not appeal to me in the least. In the end I was game (largely in part because the restaurant closed, it was 11:00pm on a Sunday, and the caves provided the last hope for vino tinto.) As one might suspect, late Sunday nights are not exactly prime time for performance. Our smooth talking Englishman was able to coax a group of performers to do one last show for us (no doubt on the strength of the pound sterling). We were ushered into the space, a cave with whitewashed walls just wide enough for a row of chairs along each wall with a narrow space to pass between them. For the next hour, the four of us watched five dancers, three guitarists, two singers and a drummer pour their soul into a performance. The cacophony of instruments, voices, handclaps, finger snaps, and foot stamps was stunning, beautiful, and not at all what I expected. The Mosque and the Alhambra were the reasons we traveled to Andalucía, and they did not disappoint. The flamenco, however, was one of those great moments in life when beauty is experienced without the weight of expectation.
Spain is in the books, and its back to work in the Scenic City. 2014 was a great year and I’m thankful for all of the blessings that have come my way. 2015 is shaping up to be a big one, although not without the aforementioned weight of expectation. More on that in a couple of weeks…
In the meantime, have a very merry Christmas and/or a spectacular holiday season!
12.08.2014
Meme Monday
And now we're playing with house money. Another National Championship would suit me just fine, however, anything more than beating the Vols, beating Auburn, and winning the SEC, is just gravy. As we approach the holidays, please keep Urban Meyer in your prayers- hopefully a run-in with Saban won't spark health issues and retirement...again. Roll Tide.
Everyone with a computer has been exposed to a meme of one form or another by now. For the most part they are stupid, but every now and again there is a gem to be found. Rather than resist, I will jump the shark and embrace them this week. So here they are, a virtual cornucopia of Chattanooga urban design memes for your viewing pleasure. For the most part they are stupid (please don't get offended).
Everyone with a computer has been exposed to a meme of one form or another by now. For the most part they are stupid, but every now and again there is a gem to be found. Rather than resist, I will jump the shark and embrace them this week. So here they are, a virtual cornucopia of Chattanooga urban design memes for your viewing pleasure. For the most part they are stupid (please don't get offended).
12.01.2014
In the News
As you will read below, this post is a week late. My bad. Such is life. In the meantime the family had a great Thanksgiving and order was restored to the universe.
After spending most of the week in the unreasonable cold of the upper Midwest, it was nice to be back in the relative warmth of the Scenic City. With the soccer travel season having just ended, the family looking forward to a relaxing weekend at home. Everything was going to plan until Saturday morning when I read that tickets were still available for the Alabama game. Being highly suggestible, I immediately corralled the family (including the sole Awbun fan), hustled them into the car, and hit the road. Never mind that tickets can always be found for a game, and that the opponent was an FBS school that the Mocs blew out 51-0, I had to go because TICKETS WERE STILL AVAILABLE! By the time I regained my sanity we were passing through Trussville, so I just rolled with it.
This was the first Bama game for our youngest. I hoped he and I could go by ourselves to his first game (the same way that it happened for his brother) but life had other plans. In any event, everyone had fun, there was no fighting, and the Tide overcame a slow start to win going away. All of this is to say that my take on matters of urban design in Chattanooga has been gleaned solely from the media.
I was going to label these three things the Good, the Bad, and The Ugly. Aside from that being cliché and overused, however, I’m not even sure that’s a perfectly accurate description. Let’s just say that I had three gut reactions: a positive one, a negative one, and one feeling of revulsion (not covered in that order, mind you).
Big news of the week is a bad thing- a multi-million dollar housing project had some buildings collapse after a stiff wind. I have no comment on site plan or building design, so feel free to draw your own conclusions on those. The problem the developers now face is that (fairly or unfairly) the project may be perceived one with inferior product. Not a good thing- I definitely hate to see that.
A tangent to that incident induced my feeling of revulsion. This has nothing to do with the development and everything to do with our community. I came across the TFP article on the collapse via my Facebook feed. Let’s be honest, the comment sections of online articles are often more informative and entertaining than the articles themselves. In this case, the thread was a sad commentary on the level of discourse in our community. The comments moved swiftly from thoughts on construction quality, to how unsafe downtown is, to the ethnicity of the construction workers, to the legal status of the construction workers, to immigration policy, to how bad the president sucks, in no time flat. The comments were as xenophobic as they were uncivilized.
Brighter note: things are moving right along in Center City. I saw this article regarding an adaptive reuse of a vacant building. Add this to the list of projects (like this, and this) that follow our work on River City Company's Center City Plan. I’m excited about the future of the heart of downtown- great things are in the offing.
I am very much looking forward to the week ahead- celebrating blessings and cosmic luck with family and friends. Ya’ll be good and have a great Thanksgiving!
After spending most of the week in the unreasonable cold of the upper Midwest, it was nice to be back in the relative warmth of the Scenic City. With the soccer travel season having just ended, the family looking forward to a relaxing weekend at home. Everything was going to plan until Saturday morning when I read that tickets were still available for the Alabama game. Being highly suggestible, I immediately corralled the family (including the sole Awbun fan), hustled them into the car, and hit the road. Never mind that tickets can always be found for a game, and that the opponent was an FBS school that the Mocs blew out 51-0, I had to go because TICKETS WERE STILL AVAILABLE! By the time I regained my sanity we were passing through Trussville, so I just rolled with it.
This was the first Bama game for our youngest. I hoped he and I could go by ourselves to his first game (the same way that it happened for his brother) but life had other plans. In any event, everyone had fun, there was no fighting, and the Tide overcame a slow start to win going away. All of this is to say that my take on matters of urban design in Chattanooga has been gleaned solely from the media.
I was going to label these three things the Good, the Bad, and The Ugly. Aside from that being cliché and overused, however, I’m not even sure that’s a perfectly accurate description. Let’s just say that I had three gut reactions: a positive one, a negative one, and one feeling of revulsion (not covered in that order, mind you).
Big news of the week is a bad thing- a multi-million dollar housing project had some buildings collapse after a stiff wind. I have no comment on site plan or building design, so feel free to draw your own conclusions on those. The problem the developers now face is that (fairly or unfairly) the project may be perceived one with inferior product. Not a good thing- I definitely hate to see that.
A tangent to that incident induced my feeling of revulsion. This has nothing to do with the development and everything to do with our community. I came across the TFP article on the collapse via my Facebook feed. Let’s be honest, the comment sections of online articles are often more informative and entertaining than the articles themselves. In this case, the thread was a sad commentary on the level of discourse in our community. The comments moved swiftly from thoughts on construction quality, to how unsafe downtown is, to the ethnicity of the construction workers, to the legal status of the construction workers, to immigration policy, to how bad the president sucks, in no time flat. The comments were as xenophobic as they were uncivilized.
Brighter note: things are moving right along in Center City. I saw this article regarding an adaptive reuse of a vacant building. Add this to the list of projects (like this, and this) that follow our work on River City Company's Center City Plan. I’m excited about the future of the heart of downtown- great things are in the offing.
I am very much looking forward to the week ahead- celebrating blessings and cosmic luck with family and friends. Ya’ll be good and have a great Thanksgiving!
11.10.2014
It's an Epaintdemic!
Chattanooga is facing an epidemic. A virus is sweeping through our fair city at an alarming rate. It must be stopped, or it will consume us. Do I speak of Ebola? Influenza? Swine flue? H1N1? SARS? Avian Flu? Malaria? Dengue Fever? No, this is far more serious than that. I speak, of course, of the alarming number of people who are painting brick (and stone!) buildings. Yes, that’s right. People are actually applying liquid pigment on top of proud, noble and ancient materials. This short post is an appeal to any and all who would hear. Please stop the insanity. My cause is just, and I offer the following thoughts in support:
Brick is a significant part of our built heritage. Brick buildings and urban Chattanooga have an affinity for one another. From our most iconic structures such as the Choo-Choo, to more modest (but no less important) buildings such as the Trolley Barns, exposed brick is ubiquitous and adds to the authenticity of the community.
Once you start, you can never stop. After a couple of years, that nice fresh coat of paint will lose its luster and eventually start to peel. The whole building then needs to be cleaned, scraped and repainted. Repeat every few years. This is a labor intensive and expensive maintenance proposition.
Brick is beautiful. The color and texture of brick are assets. Let the material speak for itself. While painting brick not as egregious as stamping concrete, or painting EIFS to look like things they are not, it is in the same spirit. Covering the material is in essence denying what it is. If a building is made of brick, let the brick be itself.
It is an unnecessary expense. I fear that people often paint their brick buildings simply because they feel like they need to do something. I submit that before one makes this choice, they consider the up-front costs and on-going maintenance cost, and put that money to work on other elements of the program. The brick is just fine- leave it alone.
History is not on your side. There is a 100% chance that subsequent owner of the building will try to restore it. There is also a 100% chance that they will utter the phrase “Why the hell did these people paint the brick?”. While stripping painted brick is possible, the nature of the material makes it virtually impossible to strip completely.
Don't be mad, and don't send hate mail. As with anything, there are exceptions. I am of the opinion, however, that this should be a last resort not a common practice.
FULL DISCLOSURE: I bought my first pair of Air Jordan’s (the white ones) with money earned by painting the brick of my childhood home. Good job Mom.
Brick is a significant part of our built heritage. Brick buildings and urban Chattanooga have an affinity for one another. From our most iconic structures such as the Choo-Choo, to more modest (but no less important) buildings such as the Trolley Barns, exposed brick is ubiquitous and adds to the authenticity of the community.
Once you start, you can never stop. After a couple of years, that nice fresh coat of paint will lose its luster and eventually start to peel. The whole building then needs to be cleaned, scraped and repainted. Repeat every few years. This is a labor intensive and expensive maintenance proposition.
Brick is beautiful. The color and texture of brick are assets. Let the material speak for itself. While painting brick not as egregious as stamping concrete, or painting EIFS to look like things they are not, it is in the same spirit. Covering the material is in essence denying what it is. If a building is made of brick, let the brick be itself.
It is an unnecessary expense. I fear that people often paint their brick buildings simply because they feel like they need to do something. I submit that before one makes this choice, they consider the up-front costs and on-going maintenance cost, and put that money to work on other elements of the program. The brick is just fine- leave it alone.
History is not on your side. There is a 100% chance that subsequent owner of the building will try to restore it. There is also a 100% chance that they will utter the phrase “Why the hell did these people paint the brick?”. While stripping painted brick is possible, the nature of the material makes it virtually impossible to strip completely.
Don't be mad, and don't send hate mail. As with anything, there are exceptions. I am of the opinion, however, that this should be a last resort not a common practice.
FULL DISCLOSURE: I bought my first pair of Air Jordan’s (the white ones) with money earned by painting the brick of my childhood home. Good job Mom.
 |
| ...Like it was yesterday... |
11.03.2014
This Might Be a Stretch
Let the record show that this post will be forever seared into my memory. It has come to this, the only time I can write for this space is when I’m in the process of flying somewhere. I was on a plane from some airport or other (DTW I think) on my way back to ATL. As I was wrapping things up, I clumsily deposited a full cup of coffee on both my laptop and my lap. I was surprised at how many itty-bitty airline cocktail napkins it takes to clean up twenty ounces of café au lait. Just about the time I settled back in, they guy next to me soiled himself. Literally, soiled himself…sitting in the seat next to me. I can only imagine how many cocktail napkins he eventually needed. Needless to say, these things coupled with the torture device that is an airline coach seat, made for an uncomfortable afternoon. I can’t complain though, I went on to arrive safely and on time in CHA where life is good. Moving swiftly on…
I find great joy in teaching architecture history. While I was originally concerned that rehashing the same material semester after semester would get boring, I have found just the opposite to be true. Every time I teach the class I see something in a different way or gain some type of insight. From time to time I even find patterns that are somehow applicable to my current work. After a class on the Renaissance last week, I think I’ve found a parallel with contemporary Chattanooga. (This is probably a stretch, but I’ve decided to try it on anyway. Bear with me.)
When Rome fell, Europe was plunged into the Dark Ages (which always reminds me of perhaps the funniest scene in movie history). While there is plenty to dislike about Roman society and colonial exploits, their administrative framework held western civilization together for hundreds of years (a thousand if you want count the Republic). From an architectural standpoint, this stability and prosperity produced an astounding array of design and engineering marvels. This stability allowed experience and experimentation to develop into a body of knowledge that was passed down from generation to generation. Within a few decades of the fall, the individual and institutional knowledge of architecture and its engineering, craftsmanship, and design was lost. (Note: This is of course in reference to Western Europe. During this period, the Byzantines, essentially successors to the Empire, were producing amazing works such as Aya Sofia.)
In subsequent years, builders were essentially starting from scratch. Design, materials and technique all went back to square one. As opposed to older Roman buildings, Medieval buildings were characterized by thick walls with small windows resulting in small, dimly lit interior spaces. Over time, a number of builders observed older Roman structures and tried to replicate them. The so-called Romanesque style is the result of these efforts. The Romanesque is just that- kind of like the Romans. It may be unfair to say that the thousand years of the dark ages is a millennium-long struggle to regain the lost architectural knowledge of the Romans, but it’s not far off. Grand and well-lit spaces don’t return to Europe until the 12th century with the structural advances of the pointed arch, ribbed vaults, and flying buttresses that characterize the Gothic.
The Dark Ages end with the rise of the humanist philosophy of the Renaissance. This was essentially a rejection of medieval thought in favor of a resuscitation of the lost knowledge of the Romans and Greeks. Humanist artists and thinkers poured through the ancient texts and extant works in an effort to regain what was lost. One could argue that the Renaissance eventually arrives with the baptistery door competition in Florence. Aside from the advance in art by Ghiberti’s win, architecture benefits from the pain of the loser.
After losing the competition, a pissed off Brunelleschi bolts for Rome. He proceeds to spend the next twenty years of his life scrutinizing ancient Roman ruins (and along the way developing linear perspective drawing). Armed with this knowledge he returns to Florence to pitch his ingenious solution to the problem of the Duomo (and in the process serves cold vengeance to his rival Ghiberti). While his solution was new, of the time, and adapted to a contemporary design challenge, there is no doubt that his works owes to those who came many centuries before him.
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Toward the end of the twentieth century, Chattanooga developed a sophisticated framework for city building. Tremendous works were accomplished based on an understanding of the importance of the public realm, a spirit of partnership and cooperation, and an embrace of inclusive public processes. After a political shift, this framework for building the city dissolved. Many of the people who were well versed in the nuance of partnership were lost or moved away. Those who recognized the importance of public realm design and planning were relegated to the sidelines, and the institutional memory of the organizations that were engaged in the work was lost.
Fortunately, we have begun to emerge from that period and seem to have entered into a more optimistic and exuberant phase. There is great momentum in the city owing to things such as the gig, industrial recruitment, and our entrepreneurial community. While we are gaining momentum in other areas of community life, our work in the built environment lags. This stands to reason as buildings take longer to complete, and the economic environment for development has been soft. While building didn’t come to a standstill during the past decade, we certainly failed to keep pace with both the quality and quantity of what we produced late last century. I also believe it's fair to draw a comparison to the Romanesque- what we’ve done recently tries to evoke the Chattanooga spirit but it hasn’t fulfilled the promise of what we’re capable of.
Of course, comparing medieval Europe with Chattanooga of the early 2000s is a stretch. (you should have seen my hilarious early draft that included analogies for the Inquisition and the Plague). We would be well served, however, by revisiting what worked for us in the past. An incomplete list includes things such as: public/private partnership, an emphasis on quality, demand for authenticity, contextually sensitive design, and the recognition of the vital importance of the public realm. It is not possible or advisable to copy exactly what we did before- the city is in a different place and we face different challenges. If my comparison holds, however, then the parties who are responsible for the stewardship, design and development of the city stand on the cusp of a renaissance.
I find great joy in teaching architecture history. While I was originally concerned that rehashing the same material semester after semester would get boring, I have found just the opposite to be true. Every time I teach the class I see something in a different way or gain some type of insight. From time to time I even find patterns that are somehow applicable to my current work. After a class on the Renaissance last week, I think I’ve found a parallel with contemporary Chattanooga. (This is probably a stretch, but I’ve decided to try it on anyway. Bear with me.)
When Rome fell, Europe was plunged into the Dark Ages (which always reminds me of perhaps the funniest scene in movie history). While there is plenty to dislike about Roman society and colonial exploits, their administrative framework held western civilization together for hundreds of years (a thousand if you want count the Republic). From an architectural standpoint, this stability and prosperity produced an astounding array of design and engineering marvels. This stability allowed experience and experimentation to develop into a body of knowledge that was passed down from generation to generation. Within a few decades of the fall, the individual and institutional knowledge of architecture and its engineering, craftsmanship, and design was lost. (Note: This is of course in reference to Western Europe. During this period, the Byzantines, essentially successors to the Empire, were producing amazing works such as Aya Sofia.)
In subsequent years, builders were essentially starting from scratch. Design, materials and technique all went back to square one. As opposed to older Roman buildings, Medieval buildings were characterized by thick walls with small windows resulting in small, dimly lit interior spaces. Over time, a number of builders observed older Roman structures and tried to replicate them. The so-called Romanesque style is the result of these efforts. The Romanesque is just that- kind of like the Romans. It may be unfair to say that the thousand years of the dark ages is a millennium-long struggle to regain the lost architectural knowledge of the Romans, but it’s not far off. Grand and well-lit spaces don’t return to Europe until the 12th century with the structural advances of the pointed arch, ribbed vaults, and flying buttresses that characterize the Gothic.
The Dark Ages end with the rise of the humanist philosophy of the Renaissance. This was essentially a rejection of medieval thought in favor of a resuscitation of the lost knowledge of the Romans and Greeks. Humanist artists and thinkers poured through the ancient texts and extant works in an effort to regain what was lost. One could argue that the Renaissance eventually arrives with the baptistery door competition in Florence. Aside from the advance in art by Ghiberti’s win, architecture benefits from the pain of the loser.
After losing the competition, a pissed off Brunelleschi bolts for Rome. He proceeds to spend the next twenty years of his life scrutinizing ancient Roman ruins (and along the way developing linear perspective drawing). Armed with this knowledge he returns to Florence to pitch his ingenious solution to the problem of the Duomo (and in the process serves cold vengeance to his rival Ghiberti). While his solution was new, of the time, and adapted to a contemporary design challenge, there is no doubt that his works owes to those who came many centuries before him.
______
Toward the end of the twentieth century, Chattanooga developed a sophisticated framework for city building. Tremendous works were accomplished based on an understanding of the importance of the public realm, a spirit of partnership and cooperation, and an embrace of inclusive public processes. After a political shift, this framework for building the city dissolved. Many of the people who were well versed in the nuance of partnership were lost or moved away. Those who recognized the importance of public realm design and planning were relegated to the sidelines, and the institutional memory of the organizations that were engaged in the work was lost.
Fortunately, we have begun to emerge from that period and seem to have entered into a more optimistic and exuberant phase. There is great momentum in the city owing to things such as the gig, industrial recruitment, and our entrepreneurial community. While we are gaining momentum in other areas of community life, our work in the built environment lags. This stands to reason as buildings take longer to complete, and the economic environment for development has been soft. While building didn’t come to a standstill during the past decade, we certainly failed to keep pace with both the quality and quantity of what we produced late last century. I also believe it's fair to draw a comparison to the Romanesque- what we’ve done recently tries to evoke the Chattanooga spirit but it hasn’t fulfilled the promise of what we’re capable of.
Of course, comparing medieval Europe with Chattanooga of the early 2000s is a stretch. (you should have seen my hilarious early draft that included analogies for the Inquisition and the Plague). We would be well served, however, by revisiting what worked for us in the past. An incomplete list includes things such as: public/private partnership, an emphasis on quality, demand for authenticity, contextually sensitive design, and the recognition of the vital importance of the public realm. It is not possible or advisable to copy exactly what we did before- the city is in a different place and we face different challenges. If my comparison holds, however, then the parties who are responsible for the stewardship, design and development of the city stand on the cusp of a renaissance.
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