Tag Archives: Architecture

If this posts seems anachronistic, there’s good reason: it is. Rand and I are on the road for a while, so I’ve been scouring my Flickr stream  and the Drafts folder of my blog for old photos and stories I haven’t yet shared with you. This is a post I never got around to finishing from our Milwaukee trip in October, 2012.

 

The Milwaukee Art Museum is gorgeous. The architecture is so lovely, it’s hard to remember much else about it. I can scarcely recall a single exhibit we saw there. I couldn’t name one piece in the permanent collection. Even the lunch we had at the cafe is hazy in my mind. But the museum stands out in my memory, tall and bright like the building itself.

 

I love my hometown of Seattle dearly, but I can readily admit: our art museum does not hold a candle to this one. It looks vaguely nautical, slightly organic, yet fully modern. Like the skeleton of some exquisite alien.

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I think about alternate timelines a lot. About the infinite number of things that had to happen, of decisions that had to be made, for this reality to come about.

What if I had taken side streets instead of the freeway that one time I drove home in 2006? What if we had eaten Chinese food instead of Greek all those years ago? The potential ramifications of these tiny actions are why it takes me forever to answer simple questions like, “Paper or plastic?”, and why I spend way too long figuring out what I’m going to have for dinner.

Because it’s not just the big decisions that change the path of our lives. It’s a thousand little decisions, too.

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While walking around Madrid, Rand and I saw this sculptural relief on the facade of the building, done in the classical style (is it ancient Roman in its influences? Let’s say yes, because I know squat about sculpture):

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And then we saw the same relief, this time rendered with a Cubist slant:

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And I might have geeked out, because seriously, how cool is that?

Casa Batllo. AKA, Spanish Fraggle Rock.

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Remember Fraggle Rock? I positively loved that show (I’d really like to see a “Where Are They Now?” feature on the Fraggles. I hope Wembly finally got into rehab).

The beginning always scared me, though. Something about the baseline, and the dingy house, and the tiny mouse hole into which the Fraggles ran gave me the heebie jeebies.

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Eat your heart out, Mike Brady.

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I never really “got” architecture.

I blame Mike Brady. Supposedly an expert in the field of home design, he squeezed six children into two bedrooms. He was no architect. He was a sadist. And – hello – is it really a good idea to cram that many biologically-unrelated children into two rooms far at the other end of the house, just as they are approaching puberty?

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