2,000+ Architecture & Art Books You Can Read Free at the Internet Archive

Some­body once called writ­ing about music like danc­ing about archi­tec­ture, and the descrip­tion stuck. But what’s writ­ing about archi­tec­ture like? Even if you already know — espe­cial­ly if you already know — know that the Inter­net Archive makes it easy to binge on some of the finest archi­tec­ture writ­ing around and find out, and com­plete­ly for free at that. The site, as Arch­dai­ly’s Becky Quin­tal reports, has imple­ment­ed a “lend­ing fea­ture that allows users to elec­tron­i­cal­ly ‘bor­row’ books for 14 days. With over 2,000 bor­row­able books on archi­tec­ture, patrons from across the globe can read works by Reyn­er Ban­ham, Wal­ter Gropius, Ada Louise Huxtable and Jonathan Glancey. There are also help­ful guides, dic­tio­nar­ies and his­to­ry books.”

Quin­tal rec­om­mends a vari­ety of titles from Glancey’s The Sto­ry of Archi­tec­ture and Ban­ham’s The­o­ry and Design in the First Machine Age to Gropius’ The New Archi­tec­ture and the Bauhaus and Tom Wolfe’s famous jere­mi­ad From Bauhaus to Our Our House.

Oth­er bor­row­able books in the col­lec­tion can take you even far­ther around our built world: Boston Archi­tec­ture, French Archi­tec­ture, Japan­ese Archi­tec­ture, Moor­ish Archi­tec­ture in Andalu­sia, The Art and Archi­tec­ture of Chi­na, The Art and Archi­tec­ture of Medieval Rus­sia. As you can see, and as in a “real” library or book­store, writ­ing about archi­tec­ture at some point tran­si­tions into writ­ing about art, quite a few vol­umes of which — on art his­to­ry, art tech­nique, and even muse­um work — the Inter­net Archive also lets you check out.

But before you get your two weeks with any of these books from the Inter­net Archive’s vir­tu­al library, you’ll need your vir­tu­al library card. To get it, vis­it Archive.org’s account cre­ation page and come up with a screen name and pass­word. As soon as you’ve agreed to the site’s terms and con­di­tions, you’ve got a card. If you’d like to read these books on devices oth­er than your com­put­er, you’ll need to down­load Adobe’s free Dig­i­tal Edi­tions soft­ware. Out dig­i­tal cen­tu­ry has made bing­ing on all kinds of read­ing mate­r­i­al incom­pa­ra­bly eas­i­er than before, but just like brick-and-mor­tar libraries, the Inter­net Archive has only so many “copies” to lend out, so be warned that if you want an espe­cial­ly pop­u­lar book, you may have to get on a wait­list first. Me, I’m hop­ing Exper­i­men­tal Archi­tec­ture in Los Ange­les will come in any day now, but the art or archi­tec­ture book you most want to read may just be wait­ing for you to check it out. Scan the col­lec­tion here.

via Arch­dai­ly

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Down­load 200+ Free Mod­ern Art Books from the Guggen­heim Muse­um

Free: You Can Now Read Clas­sic Books by MIT Press on Archive.org

Watch 50+ Doc­u­men­taries on Famous Archi­tects & Build­ings: Bauhaus, Le Cor­busier, Hadid & Many More

Down­load 464 Free Art Books from The Met­ro­pol­i­tan Muse­um of Art

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

A Virtual Tour of Japan’s Inflatable Concert Hall

After the mas­sive Fukushi­ma earth­quake in 2011, archi­tect Ara­ta Isoza­ki and artist Anish Kapoor cre­at­ed the Ark Nova, an inflat­able mobile con­cert hall, designed to bring music to dev­as­tat­ed parts of Japan. Made of a stretchy plas­tic mem­brane, the Ark Nova can be inflat­ed with­in two hours. Add air in the after­noon. At night, enjoy a con­cert in a 500-seat per­for­mance hall. After­wards, deflate, pack on truck, and move the gift of music to the next city.

Marc Kush­n­er, author of The Future of Archi­tec­ture in 100 Build­ings, takes us on a vir­tu­al tour of the con­cert hall in the video above. Over on the web­site Dezeen, you can see an array of pho­tos, show­ing both the inte­ri­or and exte­ri­or of this inge­nious struc­ture.

via Swiss Miss

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Relat­ed Con­tent:

The World Con­cert Hall: Lis­ten To The Best Live Clas­si­cal Music Con­certs for Free

The His­to­ry of Clas­si­cal Music in 1200 Tracks: From Gre­go­ri­an Chant to Górec­ki (100 Hours of Audio)

Stan­ford Prof Makes Ukule­les from Wood Floor of New Con­cert Hall

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Video Essayist Kogonada Makes His Own Acclaimed Feature Film: Watch His Tributes to Its Inspirations Like Ozu, Linklater & Malick

We’ve fea­tured the work of many cin­e­ma-lov­ing video essay­ists (myself includ­ed) here on Open Cul­ture, none of it more artis­tic than that of a man who goes by the name of Kog­o­na­da. Whether deal­ing with the films of auteurs like Stan­ley KubrickAndrei Tarkovsky, Alfred Hitch­cock, or Wes Ander­son, he finds new and strik­ing ways — often free of tra­di­tion­al nar­ra­tion, and some­times even free of spo­ken words alto­geth­er — to show us how their cin­e­mat­ic visions work, and in so doing to cre­ate new cin­e­mat­ic visions of his own. But when, we Kog­o­na­da fans have long won­dered, would this mys­te­ri­ous fel­low make a movie of his own?

The answer arrived at this year’s Sun­dance Film Fes­ti­val in the form of Colum­bus, Kog­o­nada’s fea­ture direc­to­r­i­al debut. “Colum­bus gets its title from the city where it’s set — Colum­bus, Indi­ana, home to a remark­able col­lec­tion of renowned works of mod­ern archi­tec­ture,” writes the New York­er’s Richard Brody, one of the many crit­ics to have already lav­ished praise on the new­ly released pic­ture.

“Those build­ings pro­vide an extra­or­di­nary premise for the dra­ma, which is a vision­ary trans­for­ma­tion of a famil­iar genre: a young adult’s com­ing-of-age sto­ry. For once, that trope doesn’t involve a sex­u­al awak­en­ing or a fam­i­ly rev­e­la­tion; it’s the tale of an intel­lec­tu­al blos­som­ing, thanks to a new friend­ship that aris­es amid trou­bled cir­cum­stances.”

Those trou­bled cir­cum­stances have to do with the par­ents of the two main char­ac­ters: Casey, a recent high-school grad­u­ate who’s stayed in town to care for a moth­er try­ing to kick a metham­phet­a­mine habit, and Jin, a fortysome­thing trans­la­tor who’s flown in from his home in Korea (birth­place of both the Mid­west-raised Kog­o­na­da and the film’s Los Ange­les-raised star John Cho) to watch over his father, an archi­tec­tur­al the­o­rist plunged into a coma by a stroke. “These par­al­lel lines meet when Casey offers to show the stranger her town,” writes Rolling Stone’s Peter Tra­vers in his review. “ ‘Meth and mod­ernism are real­ly big here,’ she tells Jin, as he becomes increas­ing­ly intrigued by this girl who sees the art and the human­i­ty in build­ings.”

Soon Jin and Casey take “baby steps toward a rela­tion­ship, in a man­ner that recalls Richard Lin­klater’s Before Sun­rise.” That film, and its suc­ces­sors Before Sun­set and Before Mid­night, fig­ure heav­i­ly into Kog­o­nada’s video essay on Lin­klater, “On Cin­e­ma & Time.” Oth­er influ­ences, cit­ed by crit­ics as well as Kog­o­na­da him­self, include Ter­ence Mal­ick, whose way with the ele­men­tal he exam­ined in “Fire & Water,” and Yasu­jiro Ozu, whose films got him think­ing about cin­e­ma in the first place. As he put it to Indiewire, he start­ed by think­ing he would “try to fig­ure out what it is about his films that ini­tial­ly felt very unim­pres­sive, but kept haunt­ing me,” to under­stand why Ozu “isn’t easy to just reduce to some­thing — he cer­tain­ly is not this sort of tra­di­tion­al­ist, he’s cer­tain­ly not a west­ern mod­ernist, he is some­thing else and what­ev­er he was explor­ing and offer­ing felt so rel­e­vant, even today.”

Kog­o­nada’s video essays “Way of Ozu” and “Pas­sage­ways” reveal not just the Japan­ese mas­ter’s use of archi­tec­tur­al spaces, but Kog­o­nada’s inter­est in such spaces. Colum­bus brings the depth of that inter­est to the fore: “The direc­tor pro­vokes aware­ness of the Mod­ernist Colum­bus by treat­ing it as one of the film’s char­ac­ters,” writes Archi­tec­tur­al Record’s Dante A. Ciampaglia. “It’s both pro­tag­o­nist and neme­sis for Casey and Jin as they wan­der the city, explore its archi­tec­tur­al boun­ty, and find it both reflect­ing inner strug­gles and inspir­ing epipha­nies.” As Kog­o­na­da him­self puts it, “I think that’s the thing that inter­ests me, the rela­tion­ship between emp­ty spaces and life itself.” May he find many more oppor­tu­ni­ties to explore it onscreen.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Per­fect Sym­me­try of Wes Anderson’s Movies

“Auteur in Space”: A Video Essay on How Andrei Tarkovsky’s Solaris Tran­scends Sci­ence Fic­tion

The Eyes of Hitch­cock: A Mes­mer­iz­ing Video Essay on the Expres­sive Pow­er of Eyes in Hitchcock’s Films

Cin­e­mat­ic Exper­i­ment: What Hap­pens When The Bicy­cle Thief’s Direc­tor and Gone With the Wind’s Pro­duc­er Edit the Same Film

How Richard Lin­klater (Slack­er, Dazed and Con­fused, Boy­hood) Tells Sto­ries with Time: Six Video Essays

Sig­na­ture Shots from the Films of Stan­ley Kubrick: One-Point Per­spec­tive

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Watch Randy Newman’s Tour of Los Angeles’ Sunset Boulevard, and You’ll Love L.A. Too

“The longer I live here,” a Los Ange­les-based friend recent­ly said, “the more ‘I Love L.A.’ sounds like an uniron­ic trib­ute to this city.” That hit sin­gle by Randy New­man, a singer-song­writer not known for his sim­ple earnest­ness, has pro­duced a mul­ti­plic­i­ty of inter­pre­ta­tions since it came out in 1983, the year before Los Ange­les pre­sent­ed a sun­ny, col­or­ful, for­ward-look­ing image to the world as the host of the Sum­mer Olympic Games. Lis­ten­ers still won­der now what they won­dered back then: when New­man sings the prais­es — lit­er­al­ly — of the likes of Impe­r­i­al High­way, a “big nasty red­head,” Cen­tu­ry Boule­vard, the San­ta Ana winds, and bums on their knees, does he mean it?

“I Love L.A.“ ‘s both smirk­ing and enthu­si­as­tic music video offers a view of New­man’s 1980s Los Ange­les, but fif­teen years lat­er, he starred in an episode of the pub­lic tele­vi­sion series Great Streets that presents a slight­ly more up-to-date, and much more nuanced, pic­ture of the city. In it, the native Ange­leno looks at his birth­place through the lens of the 27-mile Sun­set Boule­vard, Los Ange­les’ most famous street — or, in his own words, “one of those places the movies would’ve had to invent, if it did­n’t already exist.”

His­to­ri­an Leonard Pitt (who appears along­side fig­ures like film­mak­er Alli­son Anders, artist Ed Ruscha, and Doors key­boardist Ray Man­zarek) describes Sun­set as the one place along which you can see “every stra­tum of Los Ange­les in the short­est peri­od of time.” Or as New­man puts it, “Like a lot of the peo­ple who live here, Sun­set is hum­ble and hard-work­ing at the begin­ning,” on its inland end. “Go fur­ther and it gets a lit­tle self-indul­gent and out­ra­geous” before it “straight­ens itself out and grows rich, fat, and respectable.” At its coastal end “it gets real twist­ed, so there’s noth­ing left to do but jump into the Pacif­ic Ocean.”

New­man’s west­ward jour­ney, made in an open-topped con­vert­ible (albeit not “I Love L.A.“ ‘s 1955 Buick) takes him from Union Sta­tion (Amer­i­ca’s last great rail­way ter­mi­nal and the ori­gin point of “L.A.‘s long, long-antic­i­pat­ed sub­way sys­tem”) to Aimee Sem­ple McPher­son­’s Angelus Tem­ple, now-gen­tri­fied neigh­bor­hoods like Sil­ver Lake then only in mid-gen­tri­fi­ca­tion, the hum­ble stu­dio where he laid tracks for some of his biggest records, the cor­ner where D.W. Grif­fith built Intol­er­ance’s ancient Baby­lon set, the sto­ried celebri­ty hide­out of the Chateau Mar­mont, UCLA (“almost my alma mater”), the Lake Shrine Tem­ple of the Self-Real­iza­tion Fel­low­ship, and final­ly to edge of the con­ti­nent.

More recent­ly, Los Ange­les Times archi­tec­ture crit­ic Christo­pher Hawthorne trav­eled the entire­ty of Sun­set Boule­vard again, but on foot and in the oppo­site direc­tion. The east-to-west route, he writes, “offers a way to explore an intrigu­ing notion: that the key to deci­pher­ing con­tem­po­rary Los Ange­les is to focus not on growth and expan­sion, those build­ing blocks of 20th cen­tu­ry South­ern Cal­i­for­nia, but instead on all the ways in which the city is dou­bling back on itself and get­ting denser.” For so much of the city’s his­to­ry, “search­ing for a metaphor to define Sun­set Boule­vard, writ­ers” — or musi­cians or film­mak­ers or any num­ber of oth­er cre­ators besides — “have described it as a riv­er run­ning west and feed­ing into the Pacif­ic. But the riv­er flows the oth­er direc­tion now.”

Los Ange­les has indeed plunged into a thor­ough trans­for­ma­tion since New­man first simul­ta­ne­ous­ly cel­e­brat­ed and sat­i­rized it, but some­thing of the dis­tinc­tive­ly breezy spir­it into which he tapped will always remain. “There‘s some kind of igno­rance L.A. has that I’m proud of. The open car and the red­head and the Beach Boys, the night just cool­ing off after a hot day, you got your arm around some­body,” he said to the Los Ange­les Week­ly a few years after tap­ing his Great Streets tour. ”That sounds real­ly good to me. I can‘t think of any­thing a hell of a lot bet­ter than that.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Glenn Gould Gives Us a Tour of Toron­to, His Beloved Home­town (1979)

Charles Bukows­ki Takes You on a Very Strange Tour of Hol­ly­wood

Join Clive James on His Clas­sic Tele­vi­sion Trips to Paris, LA, Tokyo, Rio, Cairo & Beyond

The City in Cin­e­ma Mini-Doc­u­men­taries Reveal the Los Ange­les of Blade Run­ner, Her, Dri­ve, Repo Man, and More

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Take an Online Course on Design & Architecture with Frank Gehry

FYI: If you sign up for a Mas­ter­Class course by click­ing on the affil­i­ate links in this post, Open Cul­ture will receive a small fee that helps sup­port our oper­a­tion.

“Most of our cities are built with just face­less glass, only for economies and not for human­i­ties.” We’ve all heard many vari­a­tions on that com­plaint from many dif­fer­ent peo­ple, but sel­dom with the author­i­ty car­ried by the man mak­ing it this time: Frank Gehry, author of some of the most talked-about build­ings of the past thir­ty years. You may love or hate his work, the body of which includes such strik­ing, for­mal­ly and mate­ri­al­ly uncon­ven­tion­al build­ings as Bil­bao’s Guggen­heim Muse­um, Los Ange­les’ Walt Dis­ney Con­cert Hall, and Seat­tle’s Muse­um of Pop Cul­ture, but you can’t remain indif­fer­ent to it, and that alone tells us how deeply Gehry under­stands the pow­er of his craft.

And so when Gehry talks archi­tec­ture, we should lis­ten. Mas­ter­class, the online edu­ca­tion start­up that has pro­duced cours­es in var­i­ous dis­ci­plines with such high-pro­file prac­ti­tion­er-teach­ers as David Mamet, Her­bie Han­cock, Jane Goodall, Steve Mar­tin, and Wern­er Her­zog, has read­ied a rich oppor­tu­ni­ty to do so in the fall: “Frank Gehry Teach­es Design and Archi­tec­ture,” whose trail­er you can view above. The $90 course promis­es a look into the cre­ative process, as well as into the “nev­er-before-seen mod­el archive,” of this biggest of all “star­chi­tects” whose “vision for what archi­tec­ture could accom­plish” has reshaped not just our sky­lines but “the imag­i­na­tions of artists and design­ers around the world.”

As with any edu­ca­tion­al expe­ri­ence, the more thor­ough­ly you pre­pare in advance, the more you’ll get out of it, and so, to that end, we sug­gest watch­ing Syd­ney Pol­lack­’s doc­u­men­tary Sketch­es of Frank Gehry, recent­ly made avail­able online by the Louis Vuit­ton Foun­da­tion. “Pol­lack is not usu­al­ly a doc­u­men­tar­i­an, and Gehry has nev­er been doc­u­ment­ed; they were friends, and Gehry sug­gest­ed Pol­lack might want to ‘do some­thing,’ ” wrote Roger Ebert in his review. “Because Pol­lack has his own clout and is not mere­ly a sup­pli­cant at Gehry’s altar, he asks pro­fes­sion­al ques­tions as his equal, sym­pa­thizes about big projects that seem to go wrong and offers insights.”

Pol­lack also “has access to the archi­tec­t’s famous clients, like Michael Eis­ner,” com­mis­sion­er of the Dis­ney Con­cert hall, “and Den­nis Hop­per, who lives in a Gehry home in San­ta Mon­i­ca” — just as Gehry him­self does, in the house whose rad­i­cal, qua­si-indus­tri­al mod­i­fi­ca­tion did much to make his name. Though he also brings in a few of the archi­tec­t’s many crit­ics to pro­vide bal­ance, “Pol­lack­’s opin­ion is clear: Gehry is a genius.” You may think so too, which would be a good a rea­son as any to take his Mas­ter­class. Even if you think the oppo­site, the phys­i­cal and cul­tur­al impact of Gehry’s work, as well as his endur­ing rel­e­vance and indus­tri­ous­ness — he con­tin­ues to design today, in his late eight­ies, espe­cial­ly for his long-ago adopt­ed home­town of Los Ange­les — has some­thing to teach us all.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Gehry’s Vision for Archi­tec­ture

On the Impor­tance of the Cre­ative Brief: Frank Gehry, Maira Kalman & Oth­ers Explain its Essen­tial Role

The ABC of Archi­tects: An Ani­mat­ed Flip­book of Famous Archi­tects and Their Best-Known Build­ings

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

How Did the Romans Make Concrete That Lasts Longer Than Modern Concrete? The Mystery Finally Solved

An explo­sion in recent years of so-called “ruin porn” pho­tog­ra­phy has sparked an inevitable back­lash for its sup­posed fetishiza­tion of urban decay and eco­nom­ic dev­as­ta­tion. Doc­u­ment­ing, as the­o­rist Bri­an McHale writes, the “ruin in the wake of the dein­dus­tri­al­iza­tion of North Amer­i­can ‘Rust Belt’ cities” like Detroit, “ruin porn” shows us a world that only a few decades ago, thrived in a post-war eco­nom­ic boom that seemed like it might go on for­ev­er. Our mor­bid fas­ci­na­tion with images from the death of Amer­i­can man­u­fac­tur­ing offers a rich field for soci­o­log­i­cal inquiry. But when sci­en­tists look over what has hap­pened to so much of the archi­tec­ture from the ear­ly to mid-twen­ti­eth cen­tu­ry, they’ve most­ly had one very press­ing ques­tion:

What is going on with the con­crete?

Or more specif­i­cal­ly, why do struc­tures built only a few years ago look like they’ve been weath­er­ing the ele­ments for cen­turies, when build­ings thou­sands of years old, like many parts of the Pan­theon or Trajan’s Mar­kets in Rome, look like they’re only a few years old? The con­crete struc­tures of the Roman Empire, writes Nicole Davis at The Guardian, “are still stand­ing more than 1,500 years after the last cen­tu­ri­on snuffed it.” Roman con­crete was a phe­nom­e­nal feat of ancient engi­neer­ing that until recent­ly had stumped sci­en­tists who stud­ied its dura­bil­i­ty. The Romans them­selves “were aware of the virtues of their con­crete, with Pliny the Elder wax­ing lyri­cal in his Nat­ur­al His­to­ry that it is ‘impreg­nable to the waves and every day stronger.”

The mys­tery of the Roman con­crete recipe has final­ly been revealed. Researchers at the Uni­ver­si­ty of Utah have just pub­lished a study in Amer­i­can Min­er­al­o­gist show­ing how the com­pound of “vol­canic ash, lime (cal­ci­um oxide), sea­wa­ter and lumps of vol­canic rock” actu­al­ly did, as Pliny claimed, become stronger over time, through the very action of those waves. “Sea­wa­ter that seeped through the con­crete,” notes Davis, “dis­solved the vol­canic crys­tals and glass­es, with alu­mi­nous tober­morite and phillip­site crys­tal­iz­ing in their place.” These new crys­tals rein­force the con­crete, mak­ing it more imper­vi­ous to the ele­ments. Mod­ern con­crete, “by con­trast… is not sup­posed to change after it hardens—meaning any reac­tions with the mate­r­i­al cause dam­age.” (The short video above explains the process in brief.)

The recent study builds on pre­vi­ous work con­duct­ed by lead author, Uni­ver­si­ty of Utah geol­o­gist Marie Jack­son. In 2014, Jack­son, then at the Uni­ver­si­ty of Cal­i­for­nia, recre­at­ed the Roman con­crete recipe and dis­cov­ered one of the min­er­als with­in it that makes it supe­ri­or to the mod­ern stuff. But it took a cou­ple more years before she and her col­leagues fig­ured out the role of sea­wa­ter on form­ing the rare crys­tals. Now, they are rec­om­mend­ing that builders begin using Roman con­crete in the near future for sea­walls and oth­er marine struc­tures. The research “opens up a com­plete­ly new per­spec­tive for how con­crete can be made,” says Jack­son. “What we con­sid­er cor­ro­sion process­es can actu­al­ly pro­duce extreme­ly ben­e­fi­cial min­er­al cement and lead to con­tin­ued resilience, in fact, enhanced per­haps resilience over time.”

As we increas­ing­ly turn our post­mod­ern gaze toward the fail­ures of post­war industrialization–toward not only crum­bling cities but crum­bling dams and bridges–one secret for build­ing infra­struc­ture that can last for cen­turies comes to us not from an algo­rithm or an AI but from an ancient recipe com­bin­ing the primeval forces of vol­ca­noes and ocean waves.

via The Guardian

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Roman Archi­tec­ture: A Free Course from Yale 

Rome Reborn: Take a Vir­tu­al Tour of Ancient Rome, Cir­ca 320 C.E.

Ancient Rome’s Sys­tem of Roads Visu­al­ized in the Style of Mod­ern Sub­way Maps

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

11,700 Free Photos from John Margolies’ Archive of Americana Architecture: Download, Use & Re-Mix

Many con­nois­seurs of archi­tec­ture are enthralled by the mod­ernist phi­los­o­phy of Le Cor­busier, Frank Lloyd Wright, and I M Pei, who shared a belief that form fol­lows func­tion, or, as Wright had it, that form and func­tion are one.

Oth­ers of us delight in gas sta­tions shaped like teapots and restau­rants shaped like fish or dough­nuts. If there’s a phi­los­o­phy behind these insis­tent­ly play­ful visions, it like­ly has some­thing to do with joy…and pulling in tourists.

Art his­to­ri­an John Mar­golies (1940–2016), respond­ing to the beau­ty of such quirky visions, scram­bled to pre­serve the evi­dence, trans­form­ing into a respect­ed, self-taught pho­tog­ra­ph­er in the process. A Guggen­heim Foun­da­tion grant and the finan­cial sup­port of archi­tect Philip John­son allowed him to log over four decades worth of trips on America’s blue high­ways, hop­ing to cap­ture his quar­ry before it dis­ap­peared for good.

Despite Johnson’s patron­age, and his own stints as an Archi­tec­tur­al Record edi­tor and Archi­tec­tur­al League of New York pro­gram direc­tor, he seemed to wel­come the ruf­fled min­i­mal­ist feath­ers his enthu­si­asm for mini golf cours­es, theme motels, and eye-catch­ing road­side attrac­tions occa­sioned.

On the oth­er hand, he resent­ed when his pas­sions were labelled as “kitsch,” a point that came across in a 1987 inter­view with the Cana­di­an Globe and Mail:

Peo­ple gen­er­al­ly have thought that what’s impor­tant are the large, unique archi­tec­tur­al mon­u­ments. They think Toronto’s City Hall is impor­tant, but not those won­der­ful gnome’s‑castle gas sta­tions in Toron­to, a Detroit influ­ence that crept across the bor­der and pol­lut­ed your won­der­ful­ly con­ser­v­a­tive envi­ron­ment.

As Mar­golies fore­saw, the type of com­mer­cial ver­nac­u­lar archi­tec­ture he’d loved since boyhood–the type that screams, “Look at me! Look at me”–has become very near­ly extinct.

And that is a max­i­mal shame.

Your chil­dren may not be able to vis­it an orange juice stand shaped like an orange or the Lean­ing Tow­er of Piz­za, but thanks to the Library of Con­gress, these locales can be pit­stops on any vir­tu­al fam­i­ly vaca­tion you might under­take this July.

The library has select­ed the John Mar­golies Road­side Amer­i­ca Pho­to­graph Archive as its July “free to use and reuse” col­lec­tion. So linger as long as you’d like and do with these 11,700+ images as you will–make post­cards, t‑shirts, sou­venir place­mats.

(Or eschew your com­put­er entirely–go on a real road trip, and con­tin­ue Mar­golies’ work!)

What­ev­er you decide to do with them, the archive’s home­page has tips for how to best search the 11,710 col­or slides con­tained there­in. Library staffers have sup­ple­ment­ed Mar­golies’ notes on each image with sub­ject and geo­graph­i­cal head­ings.

Begin your jour­ney through the Library of Con­gress’ John Mar­golies Road­side Amer­i­ca Pho­to­graph Archive here.

We’d love to see your vaca­tion snaps upon your return.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch Stew­art Brand’s 6‑Part Series How Build­ings Learn, With Music by Bri­an Eno

Frank Lloyd Wright Designs an Urban Utopia: See His Hand-Drawn Sketch­es of Broad­acre City (1932)

A is for Archi­tec­ture: 1960 Doc­u­men­tary on Why We Build, from the Ancient Greeks to Mod­ern Times 

Watch 50+ Doc­u­men­taries on Famous Archi­tects & Build­ings: Bauhaus, Le Cor­busier, Hadid & Many More

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine.  Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

“A Brief History of Goths”: From the Goths, to Gothic Literature, to Goth Music

The his­to­ry of the word ‘Goth­ic,’” argues Dan Adams in the short, ani­mat­ed TED-Ed video above,” is embed­ded in thou­sands of years’ worth of coun­ter­cul­tur­al move­ments.” It’s a provoca­tive, if not entire­ly accu­rate, idea. We would hard­ly call an invad­ing army of Ger­man­ic tribes a “coun­ter­cul­ture.” In fact, when the Goths sacked Rome and deposed the West­ern Emper­or, they did, at first, retain the dom­i­nant cul­ture. But the Goth­ic has always referred to an oppo­si­tion­al force, a Dionysian coun­ter­weight to a ratio­nal, clas­si­cal order.

We know the var­i­ous ver­sions: the Ger­man­ic insti­ga­tors of the “Dark Ages,” ear­ly Chris­t­ian archi­tec­tur­al mar­vels, Roman­tic tales of ter­ror and the super­nat­ur­al, hor­ror films, and gloomy, black-clad post punks and their moody teenage fans. Aside from obvi­ous ref­er­ences like Bauhaus’ tongue-in-cheek ode, “Bela Lugosi’s Dead,” the con­nec­tive tis­sue between all the uses of Goth­ic isn’t espe­cial­ly evi­dent. “What do fans of atmos­pher­ic post-punk music,” asks Adams, “have in com­mon with ancient bar­bar­ians?” The answer: not much. But the sto­ry that joins them involves some strange con­ver­gences, all of them hav­ing to do with the idea of “dark­ness.”

Two sig­nif­i­cant fig­ures in the evo­lu­tion of the Goth­ic as a con­scious­ly-defined aes­thet­ic were both art his­to­ri­ans. The first, Gior­gio Vasari—con­sid­ered the first art historian—wrote biogra­phies of great Renais­sance artists, and first used the term Goth­ic to refer to medieval cathe­drals, which he saw as bar­barous next to the neo­clas­si­cal revival of the 14th-16th cen­turies. (Vasari was also the first to use the term “Renais­sance” to describe his own peri­od.) Two hun­dred years after Vasari’s Lives, art his­to­ri­an, anti­quar­i­an, and Whig politi­cian Horace Wal­pole appro­pri­at­ed the term Goth­ic to describe The Cas­tle of Otran­to, his 1765 nov­el that start­ed a lit­er­ary trend.

Wal­pole also used the term to refer to art of the dis­tant past, par­tic­u­lar­ly the ruins of cas­tles and cathe­drals, with an eye toward the sup­pos­ed­ly exot­ic, men­ac­ing aspects (for Protes­tant Eng­lish read­ers at least) of the Catholic church and Con­ti­nen­tal Euro­pean nobil­i­ty. But for him, the asso­ci­a­tions were pos­i­tive, and con­sti­tut­ed a kitschy escape from Enlight­en­ment ratio­nal­ism. We have Wal­pole to thank, in some sense, for ersatz cel­e­bra­tions like Renais­sance Fairs and Medieval Times restau­rants, and for lat­er Goth­ic nov­els like Bram Stoker’s Drac­u­la, Mary Shelley’s Franken­stein, and the weird tales of Edgar Allan Poe.

We can see that it’s a rather short leap from clas­sic hor­ror sto­ries and films to the dark make­up, teased hair, fog machines, and swirling atmos­pher­ics of The Cure and Siouxsie Sioux. In the his­to­ry of the Goth­ic, espe­cial­ly between Vasari and Wal­pole, the word moves from a term of abuse—describing art thought to be “crude and inferior”—to one that describes art forms con­sid­ered mys­te­ri­ous, and dark­ly Roman­tic. For anoth­er take on the sub­ject, see Pitch­fork’s  music-focused, ani­mat­ed, and  “sur­pris­ing­ly light-heart­ed” short, “A Brief His­to­ry of Goth,” above, a pre­sen­ta­tion on the sub­cul­ture’s rise, fall, and undead rise again.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Three-Hour Mix­tape Offers a Son­ic Intro­duc­tion to Under­ground Goth Music

A His­to­ry of Alter­na­tive Music Bril­liant­ly Mapped Out on a Tran­sis­tor Radio Cir­cuit Dia­gram: 300 Punk, Alt & Indie Artists

Watch 50+ Doc­u­men­taries on Famous Archi­tects & Build­ings: Bauhaus, Le Cor­busier, Hadid & Many More

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

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