Joshua Levine's recent (WSJ Magazine) piece on John Pawson, -- the architect who "elevated nothingness to an art" -- is a good read.
It's mostly about the country retreat that he recently completed for himself and his wife in the English countryside, but there's also lots about his minimalist architecture, his career, his work with hotelier/developer Ian Schrager, and his passion for photography.
I like this bit about architectural simplicity. The great irony of minimalism, and the reason why brands such as Calvin Klein and Jil Sander began working with John Pawson to leverage his aesthetic, is that it's often more difficult to do less. Getting the details right costs money. Hence this great line from the New Yorker:
As the New Yorker cartoon put it, “Only the rich can afford this much nothing.” Don’t expect a rebuttal from Pawson. “It is big, and it is expensive, you know. It’s sophisticated architectural simplicity. This isn’t a religious thing, and it isn’t as simple as you can go. You can go a lot simpler than this.”
I also like what the following says about labels and what it means to be defined as something:
Slowing down for Pawson isn’t all that slow. He takes photos constantly and has always used the camera as his third eye. In 2017, Phaidon published Spectrum, a book of his photos, many of them first posted on his Instagram (“I said, ‘Well, I’m not a photographer,’ and they said, ‘You are a photographer,’ so now I’m a photographer”).
Click here for the rest of the article from WSJ Magazine. And if you aren't familiar with John Pawson, here is his minimal website.
Photo: Max Gleeson (Armonia Apartments designed by John Pawson)
Architect I.M. Pei died this week in New York City. He was 102. Being a centenarian is noteworthy enough. He was born in Hong Kong in 1917. I would love to join that club. Imagine how much change he experienced throughout his life. But, of course, Pei was also a celebrated Pritzker Prize winning architect. For those of you in Toronto, you can look to Commerce Court West to see an example of his work (Page & Steele was the local architect). Completed in 1972, it was the tallest building in Canada until 1976. But perhaps his most well known project is the Louvre Pyramid in Paris (pictured above). In reading some of his obituaries, I was intrigued -- but in no way surprised -- to learn that the Louvre Pyramid was deeply hated by Parisians at the time it was being proposed and built. Supposedly, for the first few years after completion, Pei couldn't walk the streets of Paris without people berating him. However, if you surveyed Parisians today, I would bet you that the approval rating of the Pyramid would be extremely high. And I would also argue that it has since become one of Paris' most globally recognizable symbols. (Parisians, please weigh in below in the comments.) All of this, once again, suggests to me that we're often not very good at evaluating the merits of things that are new to us. Pei's Pyramid, beyond being a new circulation strategy for the broader complex, was a radically different style of architecture. Appreciating that sometimes requires a bit of time. Photo by Uriel Soberanes on Unsplash
Brazil has been on my travel bucket list for many years, if not decades. Whenever I tell someone that they often ask me why that is the case.
In addition to its breathtaking natural beauty, sunny beaches, beautiful people, and lively culture, Brazil is also one of the first countries outside of Europe to have adopted modern architecture.
The best example of this is, arguably, Gustavo Capanema Palace, which is also known in architectural circles as the Ministry of Health and Education Building. At the time of its construction, Rio de Janeiro was the capital of Brazil. Brasilia took its place in 1960.
Here are two photos of the building from this afternoon:
Sadly, the building is currently under renovation and I wasn’t able to get as close as I would have liked.
All the same, Gustavo Capanema Palace is one of the first modernist buildings in Brazil and, apparently, the first modernist government building in all of the Americas.
Designed in the 1930s, there were a whole slew of architects involved in this project, including Lucio Costa (master planner for Brasilia), Affonso Eduardo Reidy, Ernani Vasconcellos, Carlos Leão, Jorge Machado Moreira, Roberto Burle Marx, and Oscar Niemeyer.
But most notable in the roster was Le Corbusier. And the building is everything you would expect from the Swiss-French architect. Pilotis. Brises-soleil. Glass facades. And mid-level programming.
However, it also incorporated local elements, such as azulejos (glazed tilework common to Portuguese and Spanish buildings). And in my view that makes it a more interesting varietal of modernist architecture.
So even though I wasn’t able to get inside today, I am still glad that I was able to finally see Gustavo Capanema Palace.
Joshua Levine's recent (WSJ Magazine) piece on John Pawson, -- the architect who "elevated nothingness to an art" -- is a good read.
It's mostly about the country retreat that he recently completed for himself and his wife in the English countryside, but there's also lots about his minimalist architecture, his career, his work with hotelier/developer Ian Schrager, and his passion for photography.
I like this bit about architectural simplicity. The great irony of minimalism, and the reason why brands such as Calvin Klein and Jil Sander began working with John Pawson to leverage his aesthetic, is that it's often more difficult to do less. Getting the details right costs money. Hence this great line from the New Yorker:
As the New Yorker cartoon put it, “Only the rich can afford this much nothing.” Don’t expect a rebuttal from Pawson. “It is big, and it is expensive, you know. It’s sophisticated architectural simplicity. This isn’t a religious thing, and it isn’t as simple as you can go. You can go a lot simpler than this.”
I also like what the following says about labels and what it means to be defined as something:
Slowing down for Pawson isn’t all that slow. He takes photos constantly and has always used the camera as his third eye. In 2017, Phaidon published Spectrum, a book of his photos, many of them first posted on his Instagram (“I said, ‘Well, I’m not a photographer,’ and they said, ‘You are a photographer,’ so now I’m a photographer”).
Click here for the rest of the article from WSJ Magazine. And if you aren't familiar with John Pawson, here is his minimal website.
Photo: Max Gleeson (Armonia Apartments designed by John Pawson)
Architect I.M. Pei died this week in New York City. He was 102. Being a centenarian is noteworthy enough. He was born in Hong Kong in 1917. I would love to join that club. Imagine how much change he experienced throughout his life. But, of course, Pei was also a celebrated Pritzker Prize winning architect. For those of you in Toronto, you can look to Commerce Court West to see an example of his work (Page & Steele was the local architect). Completed in 1972, it was the tallest building in Canada until 1976. But perhaps his most well known project is the Louvre Pyramid in Paris (pictured above). In reading some of his obituaries, I was intrigued -- but in no way surprised -- to learn that the Louvre Pyramid was deeply hated by Parisians at the time it was being proposed and built. Supposedly, for the first few years after completion, Pei couldn't walk the streets of Paris without people berating him. However, if you surveyed Parisians today, I would bet you that the approval rating of the Pyramid would be extremely high. And I would also argue that it has since become one of Paris' most globally recognizable symbols. (Parisians, please weigh in below in the comments.) All of this, once again, suggests to me that we're often not very good at evaluating the merits of things that are new to us. Pei's Pyramid, beyond being a new circulation strategy for the broader complex, was a radically different style of architecture. Appreciating that sometimes requires a bit of time. Photo by Uriel Soberanes on Unsplash
Brazil has been on my travel bucket list for many years, if not decades. Whenever I tell someone that they often ask me why that is the case.
In addition to its breathtaking natural beauty, sunny beaches, beautiful people, and lively culture, Brazil is also one of the first countries outside of Europe to have adopted modern architecture.
The best example of this is, arguably, Gustavo Capanema Palace, which is also known in architectural circles as the Ministry of Health and Education Building. At the time of its construction, Rio de Janeiro was the capital of Brazil. Brasilia took its place in 1960.
Here are two photos of the building from this afternoon:
Sadly, the building is currently under renovation and I wasn’t able to get as close as I would have liked.
All the same, Gustavo Capanema Palace is one of the first modernist buildings in Brazil and, apparently, the first modernist government building in all of the Americas.
Designed in the 1930s, there were a whole slew of architects involved in this project, including Lucio Costa (master planner for Brasilia), Affonso Eduardo Reidy, Ernani Vasconcellos, Carlos Leão, Jorge Machado Moreira, Roberto Burle Marx, and Oscar Niemeyer.
But most notable in the roster was Le Corbusier. And the building is everything you would expect from the Swiss-French architect. Pilotis. Brises-soleil. Glass facades. And mid-level programming.
However, it also incorporated local elements, such as azulejos (glazed tilework common to Portuguese and Spanish buildings). And in my view that makes it a more interesting varietal of modernist architecture.
So even though I wasn’t able to get inside today, I am still glad that I was able to finally see Gustavo Capanema Palace.
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