'Sublime et architecture' by Didier Laroque

I have found this book 'Sublime et architecture recherche pour une esthétique' by Didier Laroque that interests me very much. I will read it as soon as I get my hands on a copy.

Didier Laroque is an architect, writer and is a Doctor of philosophy in urban studies.

The book was published in 2010 and has received a lot of criticism as well as praise, I am eager to find it out for my self.

I would love to go back to studying for the sake of philosophy. Would I ever decide to get a Ph.D.

Hooray that know french.

Bruder Klaus chapel by Peter Zumthor

The local farmers helped with the construction of this very silent place of worship, built for the saint Bruder Klaus on a wide field in Mechernich in Germany. 

The shape of a tower derives from the story of Bruder Klaus first vision as a teenager, worshiping in a tower.

The farmers made the outer walls by pouring 50 cm of concrete around 112 tree trunks every day for 24 days to create different layers, varying in and color and texture. Afterwards, the structure was slowly burnt out, leaving a charcoal black surface impressed with the markings of trees.

They simple calm and the poetic position of this concrete tower on the field as well as the humble approach speaks to me. It is a intriguing example of how a construction method can enrich and be a part of the built. It is something about the processus of the built and the contrast between the sleek yet textured outside to the dark core with an opening to the sky.

I would love to experience snowflakes slowly falling from above in this place.

Giorgio de Chirico

'The anguish of departure'  Giorgio de Chirico, 1913

Ever since I was a kid Giorgio de Chirico's paintings have fascinated me.
The atmosphere of the fateful, the deserted. The ominous skies and long dramatic late-afternoon shadows of strong architectural elements.

It is the dreamlike, enigmatic and deserted that captivates me in the very same way what I am trying to point out that I find in some architecture. The architectural experience stays different as it has a strong physical presence in space.

mys·ter·y

I have been thinking for a while of what to write about next.
That maybe I should try not to go into too existential subjects, to keep it more logical.

It is not easy, because it gets personal and that is often the way I think about things and the subject is connected to feelings and experience.

However, what I have been thinking about is that the sublime in buildings that amaze me has to include some kind of mystery.

I found this definition of mystery at thefreedictionary.com

1. One that is not fully understood or that baffles or eludes the understanding; an enigma: How he got in is a mystery.

2. One whose identity is unknown and who arouses curiosity: The woman in the photograph is a mystery.

3. A mysterious character or quality: a landscape with mystery and charm.

4. A work of fiction, a drama, or a film dealing with a puzzling crime.

5. The skills, lore, or practices that are peculiar to a particular activity or group and are regarded as the special province of initiates. Often used in the plural: the mysteries of Freemasonry; the mysteries of cooking game.

6. A religious truth that is incomprehensible to reason and knowable only through divine revelation.

Seascape [Cloudy]

'Seascape [Cloudy]', Gerhard Richter, 1969

The pale beauty

When I was younger, my mind often drifted away to exotic destinations with turquoise waters and big colorful flowers. I found the long swedish winter months dull and unmoving. But as I grew up I started to look at the landscapes around me in a different way. I learned to see the magic and poetry in the shy and barren beauty that is so special to the north. The pale light, the bare landscapes and the very slow spring, who even after the long winter still manages to materialize.

Instead of the bold flowers, small forget-me-nots peek up at you. The different shades of steel grey of the water, cliffs and sky seam together like a masterfully brushed painting. The Swedish nature now moves me deeply, and I can't think of a beauty now.

I discussed this with a friend who studies literature, who considers the sublime from a more classical point of view within the field. She did not agree with my opinion that the sublime could be something very subtle. The sublime is to her, by definition, always overwhelming.
I believe that the sublime can be found in the subtle and can move you in a special way within that experience without being overwhelming.
We can agree that nature has the power to move us in that way, obvious like the overwhelming sensation of standing in front of a roaring ocean. Although I believe that the subtleness that the northern landscape represents is sublime as another, not so in your face experience that is one of the greatest treasures when you find it.

Photo, Emelie Nielson, winter, 2012

Traveling through stations

This past week I have come across some photos of old stations. I guess there is often something very magic with old photos. They have captured something that you could never, as much as you would want to, be a part of. A moment that can never be relived but is forever captured so that we can get a glimpse of it.
Stations Especially fascinates me. There are so many people passing every day, all the emotional or still rendrez-vous, both joyful and sad.

I really like the time during traveling, you find yourself in a non-place, a vacuum in time, to just be. Maybe there is something sublime in that feeling in itself for me, although that feeling is also associated to the grand spaces that often house our traveling situations.
The sounds, the atmosphere of excitement, the fluidity.
Big stations provides us with the safety of direction, it herds us in the way to go.
You are surrounded by many people, more than you are probably used to. Stations have directions and destinations, with your eyes you can follow the (track / train / boat / airplane) until they disappear out of your sight.
Of corse there are awful stations, but then there are some amazing ones that have the ability to stun.

I think these photos of The old Grand central station in New York are stunning. Not only because the exposure makes the light almost surreal, as if it is coming down in cascades from the walls, but they tell me something about the richness of being there. The atmosphere, once again, the grandeur.
The continuity of the space, the little island in the middle, the feeling of almost being in a big bunker, people moving around you.
Is there something that we do there, that we don't do anywhere else (besides traveling)? Reading a newspaper to pass the time, trying to remember just how a person looks in that moment, looking at strangers, getting lost in thoughts. The transit is a very exciting instance and so a station is what takes you there an leads the first little part-, or last.
I am not going to define what I think makes a good station, what I am thinking is, that the sublime is probably there if the station just is and with all diligence lifts all of these things.
People are on their way on these photos, but the Grand central is place very hard to forget. It gets to be the beginning and the end.

The Grand Central station, c.1930 photographed by Hal Morey

People on the move

The rail yard