The Shadow Concrete

As it is simple and as it is healthy! So it would be desirable to exclaim, looking at the simple object created by Portuguese architectural bureau Ateliermob. Under an amusing canopy the cafe disappears.

Shadow Surface consists of the concrete roof placed on three walls, creating a courtyard filled with sunlight spots, or even the whole hares getting through drawing from round apertures. Through the same apertures rain water inside gets, creating an original show. The one-storeyed cafe is between this canopy and a children's playground on which there are high windows.

The Project Purpose: to unite apartment houses

On the lift or on steps from under a canopy it is possible to go down in an underground parking.

VIA «The Concrete Romanticism in Lisbon»

VIA «Life on the Moon»

Copyright by smart | Design Aram Dikiciyan
smart urban stage is a global online project dealing with the term FUTURE OF THE CITY. We ask pioneers from metropolises around the world to question the urban status quo. the results are visions, ideas and solutions for sustainable lifestyles, modern social systems and forward-looking developments in the fields of architecture, design and technology. the worldwide event series is exhibiting ideas and solutions of forward thinking future makers. the brand behind this online project is the car manufacturer smart, which hosted special events throughout Europe during the last two years.

VIA Smart’s Future of the City Continues

CitizenM is the hotel made of ready modules of rooms.

The philosophy of a new hotel brand is that:

“Small rest in road is necessary to All travellers. To researchers, wise men, dandies, businessmen, adventurers and dreamers. They are independent and individual, but they are united by one — aspiration to travel positively. For all mobile citizens of the world. CitizenM”

VIA «Hotel of new type in Amsterdam»

Today I have a little something different. Last week when I wrote my review for American Born Chinese I couldn't help but think to myself What do I really know about any of this? I've reviewed a decent amount of graphic novels on here, and I read them quite a bit as a kid, but I still feel incredibly awkward reviewing them. I am under the impression that this is the sentiment from a lot of bloggers and readers who are interested in the graphic novel but don't know how to look at it critically. To try and remedy this here and for other people, I asked my graphic novel enthusiast friend Ron to give his thoughts on what exactly makes a good graphic novel and what he looks for. Please check out his thoughts!

In its simplest form, a graphic novel is a bound collection of comics between floppy covers. It may be part of a series, about six to eight issues, a standalone story, or an omnibus edition, which contains about thirty issues of a single series. Pinning an exact definition down for the term is tricky—there isn’t a concrete set of terms to define things within the medium. For example, in front of me sits Brit, a series of one shot issues—bound like graphic novel collections. But we’ll push the hardcore ontological stuff to the side for now and just focus on sketching out the graphic novel in broad terms.

The real key to understanding the graphic novel, and comics, is to understand that neither of them are genres. They are mediums, like film or books or even video games. All movies aren’t action films, nor are all comics about superheroes. So, like films and books, there’s something for everyone. Last week, I got my brother hooked on Brian Wood’s series, DMZ, which isn’t about superheroes at all, instead a second American civil war. While superheroes may have the highest profile in the industry (for example, Captain America’s death makes news) there are many individual genres to choose from.

Reading a graphic novel is also something that needs to be decoded by the reader. There are general guidelines to reading a graphic novel, determined by the positions of captions, panels and bubbles on the page. From both the written and artistic perspectives of the medium, a good graphic novel should never confuse the reader within the page or delay him or her from moving to the next panel in a clean transition. This is of course assuming you’re not dealing with a book that’s intentionally breaking these rules, just like in postmodern fiction.

But, as avid readers, it’s not all about reading the story from cover to cover and shelving the book. Graphic novels can be analyzed just like the rest of literature, but it may take some getting used to. Though comics are the synthesis of words and images, the brunt of the analysis comes from the image itself, like in film. It uses a very similar visual vocabulary, the borders of the panels act in ways similar to a film frame. If a character takes up most of the panel, it suggests power, the same way it does in film. If the panel is canted, it suggests similar unease. The comic differs from film in that it’s static images, not fluid cuts on a single frame. There is a larger context to panel design in how they work as a whole on the page.

The filmic analogy, however, doesn’t capture the breadth of actually analyzing a graphic novel: the words are important, too. Most of the text in a graphic novel is dialogue, that’s the way it should be—cluttering the page with explanations of the action is redundant, poor storytelling (postmodern and meta considerations aside).

Further mish-mashing mediums, the words even have power beyond their literal meanings. Bold words indicate important or stressed words, but the author doesn’t supply an emotional indicator afterwards, like “sadly” or “angrily.” The words don’t just sit on the bottom of the page, like filmic subtitles do. Different fonts can also hold different meanings. In David Mazzuchelli’s atounding Asterios Polyp, each character “speaks” in a unique, creator-designed, font, suggesting their different voices on a symbolic level. Comic book dialogue is unique to individual readers; it’s active reading.

This dense toolbox gives creators a lot to work with, so readers need to be diligent in identifying the particular tropes a writer or artist is employing. Some creators, like Alan Moore, will use everything at his disposal to construct the comic, while others, like Frank Miller, only use tools to highlight important elements in more standard stories. But much of the time, stories can be absorbed without worrying about postmodern dialectics within the work, or analyzing it as closely as English majors are wont to do. Once the medium is unlocked, the most important thing is to pinpoint interests. Like zombies? Grab the zombie book. Like superheroes? Your choices are plenty. Like Vikings? We’ve those, as well. So next time you find yourself near a comics outlet…stop in and have a look.

A little too serious for my own good,

RON.

Thanks for sharing your thoughts with us Ron! Be sure to check out Ron's blog Entertainment Etc.

Art Tower in Dubai

VIA «Skyscraper under an inclination»

Fire festival

VIA «Promo-pavilion for the city of Żory»

To be a lover of nonfiction is a dangerous and confusing thing. I have become aware of a major difference in the way readers who primarily love nonfiction shop over the way readers who primarily love fiction shop. When you go to the bookstore and you look for a fiction book, there is generally one place you're searching. Maybe two if you like YA or three if you like romance or western. If you love nonfiction there are an unlimited number of places you might find your books. This can be dangerous and frustrating.

For example, after a recent trip to Half-Price Books I purchased seven books and they were each in a completely different section.

• The first place I always look is in Essays and Memoirs, which is generally only one or two shelves of a bookcase (in a normal store there might be one whole bookcase). In this section I found Coop, which is a memoir, I suppose, of Michael Perry's life as a farmer and parent.
• I moved to the Sports section where I found The Lost Art of Walking, a history and discussion of walking.
• Nearby was travel, where in the further category of Iowa travel I found Postville: A Clash of Cultures in Heartland America

  

  , a profile of a town in Iowa.

• I went to graphic novels and found the graphic memoir Blankets

  

  .

• I caught up with Jason in the Science section where I found The Compassionate Carnivore: Or, How to Keep Animals Happy, Save Old MacDonald's Farm, Reduce Your Hoofprint, and Still Eat Meat

  

  on the one shelf of sustainable agriculture books.

• From sustainable agriculture I moved towards nature writing where I picked up The Control of Nature

  

  , a book of essays by John McPhee.

• I ended by trip in the close-by section of Green Living, which had a really neat copy of Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life.

Seven books. Seven sections.

Can you see why loving nonfiction is a dangerous and frustrating process? Dangerous because, as you've just seen, it's very easy to hop around the whole store and find something you're interested in in every section. It's too easy, especially in a store like Half-Price Books, which organizes its categories down into smaller categories.

It's frustrating, however, because if you are looking for a specific book there can be at least three places it will be located. Is it in essays and memoirs? Is it in environmentalism? Is it in cookbooks? I've found Animal, Vegetable, Miracle in every place. Even from the books I purchased you can probably see some overlap. The Compassionate Carnivore, The Control of Nature, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, and Coop could have easily been found in the same section, but for some reason Half-Price Books distinguishes them. The distinguishing factor might be something as arbitrary as what type of writer wrote the book. Was it a journalist? A farmer? A scientist?

Part of this is just that the majority of the books in a bookstore are nonfiction, and bookstores do distinguish all the nonfiction by subject because that is how most people look for it. But when you're a general lover of all types of nonfiction it gets frustrating when there isn't just a single section titled Essays that contains all the books of essays. Since nonfiction is a constantly evolving genre (I'm not saying fiction is not, I'm saying literary fiction has a more established, concrete history) it's difficult for a lot of readers to make the distinction between literary nonfiction and what I would consider "How to" nonfiction. How to travel in Mexico. How to become a Buddhist. How to farm sustainably. Versus. My travels in Mexico. My experience as a Buddhist. My experience as a sustainable farmer.

Do you read nonfiction? Do you find yourself running around the store looking for a book? If you are a fiction reader, how many sections do you generally look in?

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Hi Everyone,

My name is Mindy Hardwick, and I’m happy to be guest blogging today on my favorite young adult book—Homecoming. I am both a published children's writer and educator. Some of my stories and articles have been published with The Washington State History Museum’s on-line magazine, ColumbiaKids including: a middle grade story, “Tales of the Lighthouse Keeper,” and articles about Rachel the Pike Market Pig, and the Fremont Troll. I run a weekly poetry workshop with youth in a juvenile detention center in Everett, WA. You can read some of the youth’s poems at www.denneypoetry.com. You can also find a couple of my flash fiction pieces, Directions and Night Crimes, which were inspired by the detainees, on Sarah LaPolla’s blog, Glass Cases. I keep a blog at www.mindyhardwick.com

I first read Homecoming in my sixth grade reading class. When I reread the book for this post, I took a quick look at the copyright date. My sixth grade year would have been the year the book was published!

In middle school, I was lucky to have both a language arts class and a reading class. Our reading teacher, Mr Stobie, dedicated the entire hour to reading. He filled the room with young adult novels, which at that time, would have been the problem novels of the 80’s. (Young adult novels which focused on a character who was usually trying to deal with an issue such as death in Tiger Eyes by Judy Blume). In sixth grade, we spent our class time reading and journaling about young adult novels. I thought this was Heaven! I didn’t have to worry about reading under the covers with a flashlight, now I could tell Mom and Dad that I was doing homework! Later, when I became a seventh grade language arts teacher myself, I used this same classroom teaching style.

Ironically, at the same time I started teaching, my collection of young adult novels resurfaced at my Mom’s house. She even found the same yellow bookcase where the books had always been stored. I was amazed to see that the books had survived moves across the country as well as decades of being stored in boxes. I unpacked the books and used them to set up my classroom library. And of course, the first book, I found was Homecoming.

Over the years, I’d seen copies of Homecoming at the bookstore, and the cover had changed from the one I remembered. At one point, I attended a library book sale to buy books for the classroom library. That day, I found a copy of Homecoming with the same cover that I remembered. I purchased the book, and never loaned that copy out to students!

When I began taking writing classes, we often studied first lines of novels. But, to me, no first line ever came close to the line in Homecoming: “The woman put her sad moon — face in at the window of the car.” And even though I studied many young adult novels during my coursework in Vermont College’s MFA in Writing for Children and Young Adult program, Homecoming still remained my favorite book. I discovered that there was something about Homecoming which had never left me. Something about Dicey’s character that had grabbed me and continued to hold onto me. Maybe it was the way she so carefully dolled out money for each meal, buying apples and a loaf of bread for 88 cents, or maybe it was all those hot, dusty miles they walked along strip malls on their way to Bridgeport. But, a few years later, when I started writing my own young adult novel, Dicey’s story crept into mine. My character, Jasmine, had also been abandoned by a parent, and just like Dicey, Jasmine goes to live with an extended family member. As Dicey does in the second Tillerman series, Dicey's Song, my character Jasmine must also create a new life for herself. Later, I realized I even named one of my secondary characters, Sammy, and that was the same name as Dicey’s younger brother.

As a writer, I can look at Homecoming and see so many qualities which I try to mirror in my own work: A main character with a strong want and motive. Secondary characters that are just as complex as the main character. Description which is so neatly woven into each scene. A plot which keeps me turning the page.

But as both a reader and writer, I think what strikes me the most about Homecoming is Dicey’s determination to get her family to a safe home. It is Dicey’s determination, all these years later, still inspires me in my own life and reminds me not to give up. Dicey’s story reminds me to keep walking across the endless, hot concrete sidewalks and to keep dolling out that money for bread and peanut butter until I reach that end destination and find “home”. __________________________________________ Thank you so much Mindy! What a wonderful post! Homecoming and the whole Tillerman Saga were really life changing books for me. I loved the whole series and I love hearing what you remember about them! Dicey really is a truly amazing character! Thank you again for participating! Also — to the rest of my readers out there — If you would like to be a Memory Monday guest, in my blog for more information or send me an email! I'd love to have you!

Welcome to Robinson Wells today, author of Variant who is here to share with us some memories of the teenage years.:)

So, I’m not sure if I understand this correctly: If I was selling all of this stuff at a garage sale, that would mean that I don’t like it, right? If there was something I was selling as a teenager, then it wouldn’t matter much, so I’m going to change the rules: this isn’t a teenage garage sale; it’s a museum of my teenage years.

A collection of Supertramp CDs: No I’m not old enough that I was into Supertramp when they first came out (in the seventies), but for whatever reason I latched onto them as a teenager. I think it first was because of the kitsch of it—I mean, they have an album called “Breakfast In America”—but they started growing on me to the point where I owned all their albums and listened to them constantly. (I’m mostly over them now. Mostly.)

A fishing tackle box full of oil paints: Long before I ever thought about writing, my creative outlet was in the visual arts. My mom signed me up for an oil painting class when I was about eleven, and I really fell in love with it. (I don’t mean to brag, but I once took fourth place in the Utah State Fair. I’m kind of a big deal.) Sadly, writing has taken all my painting time away, and I haven’t done anything in years.

A road sign: In typical teenage fashion, my friends and I went through a phase when we would try to acquire (steal) the best signs we could find. We made a rule that we’d never do anything unsafe—no stealing STOP signs, or anything like that—but we got a lot of awesome ones. And, fortunately, one of our friends had a bus stop in front of his house, and we’d re-hang our stolen signs in front of his place: my favorite was a sign from the cemetery directing hearses toward the correct entrance. As you can imagine, my friend’s dad was not happy about this kind of thing.

A drafting table: In addition to painting, I briefly worked as a teenager drawing houses for real estate advertisements. I’m not great at drawing other things, but I can draw the heck out of a tract home.

My student government sweater: I think I ran for office every single year of junior high and high school, and never won, and then my senior year came around and I ran and lost AGAIN. But then they created a new position, held a special election, and I finally won! I was the Assembly Coordinator, which was a horrible job that I never would have taken had I not so desperately wanted to be in student government.

A 1972 Chevy Impala: This was my first car (and, since you don’t know how old I am, it was more than twenty years old when I had it). My dad bought it from someone for $300, and it ran about as well as you’d expect for a $300 car. The main benefit of the car was that it was indestructible—it was made of solid steel. More than once, as I was backing into the driveway, I hit the concrete side stairs and heard horrible scraping only to jump out and see the car was completely unscathed—not even a scratch in the paint.

Playbills from numerous shows: I came from a singing and dancing family, and we (all of us, Mom and Dad included) ended up heavily involved in community theater. Although I did my share of acting and singing (I could NEVER figure out how to dance), I ended up falling in love with the backstage stuff, and eventually worked for years doing set design.

How fun! I come from a theater family too! I love that you guys all got involved together. I can't tell you how many times I get that look when family members ask me why I'm not involved with a show.: P Thanks so much for stopping by today!!

Architectural Factory of Pipes

The building for company T Bailey Inc is made as factory expansion on manufacture of steel pipes. The architect of the project — Tom Kundig from studio Olson Sundberg Kundig Allen Architects — used huge pipes as a design element.

We Make the Pipes!

Total area of office of 1,100 sq. m. For construction of office architects used directly that product which is made by the customer. Visitors will get to a building on huge pipes. In a huge vertical pipe the large fan which will condition air at the main office is placed. The conditioner will be charged by energy of the sun.

The interior corresponds to stylistics. The concrete floor, open structure, a covering minimum. The roof inclination will direct streams of rain water to a garden, for watering of trees growing there.

VIA «Huge Pipes, As an Architectural Element»