There is a new book out right now about the United Arab Emirates called 50U. It has been fifty years since the confederation of the seven Gulf states was officially declared (December 2, 1971), and so the book is a celebration of that. The format is 50 portraits of people, places, and plants (yes, plants) that tell the story of the UAE.

Included in the book is an excerpt of a 2009 talk by architect Rem Koolhaas (of OMA) about his reading of Dubai. ArchDaily published an abridged version over here and I thought it was an interesting read. Few people think about cities as deeply as Koolhaas does, and few can express their thoughts in such a rational and Dutch-like way. Here's a snippet of the talk:

I came here first in 2004. We were asked to do a major building on the site which is marked by the flag. Then, two years ago it was the exact moment… I became increasingly nervous about the mission of architecture and the uses of architecture. And I really became almost desperate… that the incredible pressure of the market economy was forcing architecture itself into increasingly extravagant conditions. Seemingly, Dubai seemed to be the epicenter of that extravagance. So, I came with deeply ambivalent feelings. It seemed as if the idea of the city and the metropolis itself had been almost turned into a caricature, not a coherent entity but maybe a patchwork of theme parks. And those themes would become the bogus and increasingly bizarre characters that were perhaps partly mythical and partly real.

I've only been to Dubai once. It was back in 2008 or 2009. And to be honest, it wasn't my favorite city; I think primarily because I enjoy walking cities and Dubai is largely the opposite of that. It felt like a patchwork of theme parks that you had to drive around to -- ideally in an exotic car while being as flashy as possible.

Now if these theme parks were within walking distance (and the drinks were good), that would be an entirely different story.

I have been in a few of Frank Lloyd Wright’s houses and in every case it turned out like this:

The Prairie School (of architecture), for which Wright was a pioneer, was all about horizontality. That typically meant flat roofs, deep overhangs and, in the case of Wright’s work, exceptionally low ceiling heights.

I’m about 6’3”. Many of his clear heights were less than 7’ and I believe his doorways were often 6’2”. This clearly doesn’t work for me, but it mattered for what Wright was trying to do. And I don’t think he was the type to worry about small matters like the comfort of tall people.

The above photos were taken at Taliesin West in Scottsdale, Arizona. Wright bought the land (495 acres) in 1937, and turned it into both his winter home and a teaching studio.

Apparently Wright paid $3.50 per acre at the time, which feels like a pretty good deal to me. It shows you the power of just buying and holding things over long periods of time.

Today, Taliesin West is the home base of Wright’s foundation and also a UNESCO World Heritage Site. I’m glad I was able to finally visit it after reading about it for so many years in architecture school.

A new brightly-colored rooftop installation opened up this week in Rotterdam. It includes a 30-meter-high aerial bridge that connects a few of the city's rooftops. Designed by Rotterdam Rooftop Days and MVRDV, the "Rotterdam Rooftop Walk" is designed to bring awareness to the city's rooftops and demonstrate how they might be used as an added layer of public infrastructure within the city. The installation will run from May 26 to June 24.

This is a neat idea and not just because I like bright orange things. Rooftops are, by and large, underutilized assets within our cities. It behooves us to do more (I just wanted to say behooves). But I think it's important to keep in mind that aerial bridges and rooftop spaces can come in many different forms. I think you could argue that there are aerial bridges designed to enliven forgotten spaces (like this example here) and there are aerial bridges designed as a solution to appalling and inhospitable ground planes.

Sometimes these inhospitable spaces are because of extreme climates and sometimes it is because we forgot how to design spaces that are actually enjoyable for pedestrians. The former of these two scenarios is, I guess, more excusable. But I do think that many cities lack the kind of densities needed to animate multiple layers of public spaces. Often you need to pick where you want to focus people's attention.

Still, bright orange walkways. Neat.