#i am literally making physical wooden picture pieces of them to hang on my wall | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yourhuckleberrypocket · 4 years ago

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- Free texts reading -

Swords? Come on, try another… Kindness, yes! It can be, Aaah, My love for freedom! Go on… A dream?

“Listen to me! You will listen to me! To be a dreamer has no fear! To be a dreamer is to accept the rust in his blood scorned by cheap metals! We are born, because we are called by our fathers, to return what has been lost! And to show them, quit justice, quit peril! Let them show our freedom, and fight as freemen! To be a dreamer is stronger and let them know what we can do! Let them cower! Gentlemen, hoist the colours…”

- Eva Rouelle -

Blacks under the light on silhouette walls, 1792 is a summer of wind and season trying to crawl its sunlight inside the beaming bedroom of the likes of Coraline Jones, but one with happy light and setting. Papers fell on the floor sticky and wet, trash but important. It was all pieces and dirty, and the bigger the book, the bigger my dream. Toys of the like are his hobbies, no, no, but they weren’t toys at all. They were made with joyous plastic now a skeleton, they were covered with playful paintings now broken pieces of wires. His is a spirit of an inventor and mechanic. His stare to mine is much delicate than my stern and my big book of puzzles, his stare to mine is nothing hyperbolic than his dyslexia.

There’s nothing tremendous to my gift I kept on catalogue to myself. Come on, hurt me. Then I’ll red marked the list and leave you. There is like floating potions the reason for Alice’s size, however, they were for invisibility and science nothing matters. The wooden framed picture was a picture of words. Literally, a picture of words. Made by grotesque elements and conventional canvas with the colours of nature wild and whispers. When my hands are stiff enough to rub the colours as the liquid slides away the canvas, majestically the picture with pure written words have revealed.

“Both of you downstairs now”.

“Who’s coming, Mary Poppins?” I answered.

“Just follow-up you two”.

The smile of my friend are described as hidden grimaces of shocked and fear. Gladly, it was swift as time is a thief of hiding the map beneath the bed, trembling. We both went down stairs.

His river of blood running with peaceful happiness inside is almost as synchronous on nature screams. When I came to him in this August the 16th, filling-up applications on black and white. We never knew how smart can we be? We never knew how smarter can we be that we were just given this oddly dull.

“What date is it today?” into his eyes.

“Beg, pardon?” he startled.

“Oh, apologize. 16th I think…”

“Oh, how forbidden, it’s almost September since we’re here”. He fell silent.

My mind is racing with incredulous coasters of ideas and punches, if only I can save the world or annoy from it. How stupid am I. To be so selfish and unlikely, to be boring, and apathy.

“Hold, on… ain’t today your birthday?” I asked gracefully.

“Yes, today is my birthday, you remembered.”

There are no words than a heart of incredulous cycles of blood, sweat, and tears. As I manage my mind to focus on pure things besides love. Love, however, is the reason, on how I tend to focus on things. While looking away a little second, I brushed his skin too closer and applies a gentle touch on his face and planted a kiss on the side of his forehead. Never knew, we both smart kids going on a bright huge competition for Science Investigatories, while enjoying the moment on the touch of a dull paper.

“Happy Birthday”.

I will always be there for you, know that as long as I’m here ‘till death no one will hurt you, I will always take care of you, my genius inventor, the most powerful of his time. Quite enough, brushing his hair makes my mind dim from the room of ideas into a blackout of thoughts about him. How lovely would China be?

One night, while screaming high and low on the face of my professor, a bright red tomato threw his wisdom on me.

“No the place exists, you are completely wrong”. I trembled.

“If only you can prove me”.

The map is not worthy with your red paint expression, the look of yours are a devil deeper than Satan’s pit.

“Fine forget it”. I closed the book like there’s a fly on my hand. I turned.

“Do you want to come with me Will?”

“Where?” He asked.

“Adventure…”

“Do you even have the slightest chance that there will be pirates, and the dead chasing the treasure you want?”

We both climbed the blacks of the walls now turned into shadow pits, swing on trees like the adventure just had begun and dropped on both feet with like lingering stunts on experienced times. Then run away deeply in the dark with the voice of a cannon waving on the land, thought crackers could start a festive but it was the shore tuning me. Run, run away, as Will and I have agreed to create this adventure with trust and courage.

Caribbean stones are a sand and clay as the river flows green and clear. Will, whose heart beats not for him, but along the journey his thoughts of starvation rumbles around to only feast himself by my courage and determination to find the treasure lost from the piece of the pirate’s culture. The big book is as the size as almost as sincere and unusual physically that it already creates my dream, the big book is as the size of the cave with its picture as the lost entrance architecture. The river flows anywhere, snakes are changing skins behind the bottles of rum and rust of metals, a hook and a parrot with circus plays doing trapeze on a rocky feature. It look likes someone’s here already. When Will and I, have found the lost archaeological piece. A pistol is faced in 3 feet.

“Aye, what we got here! Dick, we got dogs!”

“Aye, wha’ ye calling Dick? Eh, while am found the treasure, am Captain!”

“My apologies Captain Dick”.

I forged my steps forward as I swirl my mouth as an unexpected present during birthdays.

“Pirate”…

“Two birds lost flight. Where, oh where, the good old wings, eh?”

“What brought kids here”. Grimace and mocking Captain Dick.

However… minutes later, a bomb was heard in the mouths of the cave, there were aliens of clean and blue. Shiny and white. They were in uniforms and silvers, they were in rings with blackish rifles pointer than their noses.

“I, Lord Dunkin, scavenger of the high seas, and the Lord in the Caribbean government”. “Seas here! Seas these rats around a precious treasure!” Lord Dunkin charges.

There is swashbuckling of rifles and rings of metal swords, when Captain Dick has finally laid his eyes on my map, he then questioned me what I wanted and push Will down the ground.

“Help, this man is bonkers!”

Lord Dunkin, halted his crew and laid his eyes on us, he realized my map and soon left us along with the pirates in which we cannot speak, we cannot move, we cannot fight, we cannot reason in this age, and if will be no one would believe and save us. We were left by the hands of the barbarians and curse you and your Lordly-like crews!

I found hybridity of anger and resentment with these foul and funny dogs altogether in three years’ time. Under the heath of the green of the moon was ever unconventional compared to my Will’s dream. Brushing his soft black hair like the raven’s wings, sleeping peacefully on my lap. It was the great captain enjoying his candies inside the cabin of Queen Anne’s revenge while he fired a powdered pistol to his musicians on board, how stupid is he. Laughter burst out in the darkness and I planted a kiss on Will’s forehead and he chase along the rats of trombones with bigger guns.

“Captain, I here to report.”

“Wha’ is it, my fellow dog who lost his bone sooner you’ll die, why, do must it quick!”

“Lord Dunkin, makes the people sang, thieves, beggars, are all hanged”.

His crewmate had sung, while the captain wasted his song on rum.

“Never knew, you are a poet as long as you living, get out o’here!”

I was startled by the midnight announcement while the moon turned evergreen and carefully I glanced every sides while the crewmates are zombified, while Will and I are already tangible ghosts, not to wake the only person I have now.

The captain’s candies, in such time are a remarkable essence that they weren’t mutinies at all. They were hungry and mad, they were funny and sad, they were idiots and kings. But most of all they were merely having freedom. There is nothing worst with them at all.

“Captain, is it true what I just heard?”

Over the past few weeks, I’ve found kindness to treat the devils, these thieves are beggars if you live with them, know their stories and come along with journey together. With all the remains I have, we have, we have treated them food and entertainment. Living with prates define us dreamers of time and freemen.

“Yes, wee missy, soon, the bonkers old Dunkin, would get the brethren, and we will be hanged like there is no life happened to us”.

“No, it can’t be, we won’t let him.” I answered.

“He just took one of the pirate’s missing cultural piece, he have gone enough!” with bravery.

“A devil will never stop preying even though he feasted himself enough but there will be always a space for more than thousands of souls”. Dick was wailing his teary eyed and clutch from behind his hook.

“Captain, never must you quit! It is a dream of freedom, am I right?” “Yes, wee angel, but my time has come…”

The cannon was shot through the lips of Queen Anne’s Revenge, it was ambush and frightening, my soul has cowered, my soul was dead in seconds that I couldn’t move,

“Captain!”

The great captain Dick is licking his blood and pounded his end in metals.

“You must save the crew and the rest on…. You, will be… captain”.

The great dog and fanged hook is gone. So, terribly gone. He was the luck than his parrot day and night. Now, he choked his own blood easier than his candies.

“You made me captain…”

“Who is the captain in this ship!” cried an enemy.

“Captain, (pointing at the necklace that symbolizes as captain of piracy) her!”

“You! A young and beautiful wee lass”.

I pushed him from his fisted grip on my wrists with force and gradually I became powerful.

“What have you done! I demand to speak with your Lordly Dunkin!”

“There is no right with that, young missy, soon the pirate brethren will be ours”.

“No!” I cried as drawn away.

Suddenly, Will and the other crew members came with thousands of more vessels floating almost at the edge of the horizon, as the break of dawn came – the pirate Lords of Singapore, and China just arrived on time and chase the coward crews of the government away because those dogs just lost way of their bone.

“Dick is dead! He made me captain!”

“What are we going to do, this is sudden!” An ill from the captain of China.

“Run away and find a place for another voyage for piracy’s freedom.” Declared the captain of Singapore.

“No! We must go to war! Protect the brethren”.

The brethren bombed a laughter of mockery while the sea is waving gradually graceful and blue, and out the vessels were afloat to drift as they were about to be doomed by cannons or run away where freedom is never again be defined for them. Will was screaming with the tides of halting one against one, with the idea of war and joined me as the wind passed my dark knight’s hair and numbed expression. After all this time, I thought you were the people, of both with bravery and kindness, the kind of people to achieve ones self as dreamers without ever power to hold you all back, but just bunch of drunken dogs ever to give-up? No, no, no, I’ll enlighten you…

I, Eva Rouelle, captain of Queen Anne’s Revenge, the swan necked people poor and happy with their lives will be protected. Will never face grim and which souls are to be full on the stomach on the sadist. The beggars, the pirates, and others lust in this century for freedom and adventure will, and always will, at the end of it fight the justice of living. And they will never have the palace or brethren where freedom’s home came.

“Aye, hoist the colours…” “Dogs! HOIST THE COLORS… HIGH!”

The break of the dawn became bloodshed from the warm colour of the sunrise,

“Hoist the Colours!”

My words are final and brave, my lover’s hand is cold and ghoul-like, each of us greatly held the sword in our dominant movements and became stronger and stronger, cannons uplifted like crackers which I thought by the time I ran with courage and determination, today is swashbuckling and never mention sea sickness, today is a warrior with grief not knowing blood, rain, or sweat is racing running down on my temples of my silky dusty dress of armour. The clouds grew red, the sun hides, it is where the tale where sailor’s sing: Red sky in morning, Sailor’s take warning. While, two of the crew members Mackenzie and Teddy hid on the foot of Queen Anne’s Revenge. Thought the rain will drop blood, but it was tears of sorrow as the sky took photography of us creating this revolution to end. Lord Dunkin came as I drew my sword on my left-hand, the only one who has the opposite dominant, cheered him with slash on the face and a tumble on the feet, as I stepped a little backward hovering uncertainly as my arm is ripped and the red river flows and I began stumbling backwards. William set forth and drew his right-handed sword of rust,

“Aaah, love.”

Lord Dunkin trembles as I awoke from the bumped of the woods of the great enemy ship, together our swords have ringed and only then William attacked then the Lord discerns at the back almost frightened and confused, he almost stabbed me as my sword slipped down the sea

“End of the line”

“No, a warrior just begun her battles”.

William fired the pistol with one hand and a single bullet, directly into his devil now dying heart.

Rum and loads of rum were being used to exploit the riches of the ship, being sunken with its Lord. The crewmates and the brethren rejoice while bathing bloodshed, and colours of flags the jolly-rogers stayed nationally higher than the clouds. Proud, sicken, powerful, brave, and adventurous.

“Will?... Do you think it’s time to go home?”

“Eva… yes”.

Sadly, the brethren and the Queen Anne’s Revenge bursts into tears and kneels.

“Gentlemen, we were only captured and fed for years, there is only one thing where there is still a way to save and change the world. We cannot held to be pirates forever, but a dream is a dream, you all are the pirates, while we create a new brave world as we share our gifts to the people.”

His hand is soft and kissable, he has the hold of a fisted grip and the hug for a new born, his is a hero who saved me, and I as too save him…

“The canoe is ready Eva and Will, the oars are inside, you both are free”. As Mackenzie bursts into tears. “Thank you…”

Years later, the sea is silent and the waves are still. He read me a-more-than-a-hundred history pages of “Sucesos de las islas Filipinas by Antonio de Morga 1609” while brushing the sand and pour it in my hair, he became the person I helped him become, from being poor and sad and no motivation before me. The smile and wit now uncaged by the day I planted a kiss while wishing him a happy birthday, our dreams yet delayed, but never will be stopped as we helped each other with science and technology, we created the brave new world. But no braver as I am proud that I helped a person to become a hero that he deserves to be, treating his dyslexia, and became the leader literate and has a gift to create as I described to it “a millennial skill”. Where we came from are precious Filipino gifts, more than ever prouder taken our name and our country by the tales while we venture across the world.

As I too saved him, from being patient and trust him to do that he can do it with courage, why, by my gift of words to announce my story: “Each and everyone of us is a hero inside”. Only you yourself can figure it out, the timeline of your entire life has heroism in between. Whether at the end it only passed or it became some legend.

- Moral-

Heroism is defined in different ways by qualities of characteristics of being brave, determined, patient, humble, helper, kindness, fight for love, fight for a dream, unselfish, etc. To stand against what’s stopping you from your dream and even from everyone else’s you do it for them. With a brave heart, helping a single person is already considered as well, a hero to him or her. Just as the mass fighting with battles for revolution that you change his or her or their world. Poverty of mass of thieves and beggars are not as devilish and doesn’t deserved to be treated ill, they are people who longed for living and the government only wants power to rule and sweep away the useless livings. The punishments before were massacres never quite imagined by millenials today. We all have dreams to stop a war, we all have dreams to achieve this single thing as we became the person we longed to be, we all have dreams in different ways beyond our limitation. With courage and kindness, we are warriors that the humans we are in creation.

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nyutheatrepractices2020 · 5 years ago

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The Shell and the Fortress

Aaron (of skirt throwing infamy) here.

“You’ll have to keep quiet today because we’re not really supposed to be here.”

These foreboding words bring us into El Cascaron de la Luna--“The Shell of the Moon”. It’s a beautiful white space, with walls covered in art. A brown, wooden platform serves as a central stage. Big doors open up to a patio in the back, letting in light and air. It’s quite literally a shell for creation.

Like Casa Taller, where our mask workshop is housed, El Cascaron is a regular building on a normal street. Even though the facade is painted brightly--our hosts later argue that it is either the color of “an egg yolk” or “baby vomit”, the building blends in perfectly, and you would never know it is a theater space. Its art is created in secret.

Here, in the “Shell of the Moon”, I cannot escape the imagery of working covertly at night, shielded by the cover of darkness. There is something sneaky about what we are doing, something subversive. But if that’s true, we are working in the moon itself, so in that way we create light, and thereby create hope.

This imagery feels fitting for what we have learned about the various Puerto Rican artists we have worked with so far. They seem to be engaged in something akin to guerrilla warfare for the soul of their island and the spirit of their people. They talk often about oppression and how they choose to fight it with their art. It usually seems that if they think there should be a piece of art, then they just make it. This process can sometimes feel simple, but not in the bad way. They don’t need a big theater, or government funding, or approval. Instead if they want to create, they take to the streets, they put on a large festivals, and they trust that people will join them. The idea of a gatekeeper does not seem to exist, but when you are trying to topple the walls of oppression, it makes sense why you wouldn't use the door.

Rosa, the founder of El Cascaron, who joins us today, is currently involved in a legal battle to keep the space alive. I think she will win. The night cannot be without light.

We start the day in a discussion with Javier based on this quote by Augusto Boal before moving into physical work:

Theater is a form of knowledge; it should and can also be a mean of transforming society. Theater can help us build our future, rather than just waiting for it.

After the discussion, we partner up, creating letters with our bodies, before splitting into two groups to create full words. One group makes the word “Hope”. The other, “Fart”. One group does well. The other stinks. (Yes, that’s the kind of joke you think it is.)

Later in the morning we meet the amazing artist Antonio Martorell, who has traveled up from Ponce to work with us since we are unable to visit him in his studio due to the earthquakes. A lot of the art hanging in El Cascaron is his. “Tonio”, as our other hosts refer to him, is the definition of “a character”. Rosa says he used to be human, and became what we see today. He studied diplomacy at Georgetown University to please his mother before he decided to pursue a career in art, which he got into by drawing “beautiful sweethearts and making them even more beautiful.” He tells us he must wear his hat to draw. I believe him. Like our Bomba teacher, Awilda, Tonio also speaks about the joy he finds in his work. He is now 80, though it easy to forget when he jokes about the ground shaking during the recent earthquakes. He tells us that his art has kept evolving over time because he kept being interested in things that its previous forms could not handle. Rosa keeps referring to him as a “producer”, and it is clear that he is also a role model for the younger artists we have been working with. He embodies this spirit of creation, this “minuteman” fighter, and he has brought many portfolios of his work to show us, which make the breadth and life in his work crystal clear.

Shari is then selected by a raffle to have her portrait drawn live by Tonio. (We are excited, but you can feel in the room that the rest of us are disappointed not to be picked. Tonio tells us a story about when he did this same thing with a large group of inmates, and each of them went back to their cells with a work of art. I guess we are less threatening.) I find it interesting that Shari is selected, though, as earlier in our discussion with Javier she talked about a need to be seen and about rejecting many roles in theater that she didn’t find to be full enough. She wasn’t interested in being “just the maid.” It feels perfect that she is now the subject of a portrait by a famous artist.

Bidding goodbye to El Cascaron and Tonio and Rosa, we move back over to El Bastion--”The Bastion”. With names on my mind, I think about how this place is a fortress, a place of protection, and also a stronghold of art--both for Puerto Rico, and our group. Max, the founder of El Bastion, won the building from the government to create a place where art could flourish, and the work we have done there has certainly been helped along by the wrought iron gate, the tall plaster walls, the heavy wooden shutters that slam closed in a storm, and the imposing checkerboard floor. The work we have done in this place so far is broad and heavy and intense. I am thankful for what the shell held and what the fortress can withstand. It is a place of safety. Birds fly in today to seek shelter from some rain. We’re happy to share.

The afternoon involves more Applied Theatre work with Javier. We play a variety of physical theatre games, diving a little deeper into Boal’s Theatre of the Oppressed by using Image Theatre to picture oppression. We find ourselves in passionate conversation about teaching. Everyone stands up for their ideas. There is clear unity in our desire to create good. We bid goodbye to Javier, since this our last session with him. Hugs and photos. Then off to a quick dinner break.

In the evening, Max and Jose from El Bastion run a circus workshop for us. We split into two groups. Half of us start by making and playing with juggling balls, while the other trains a little on some aerial silks. Neither is easy, but both are incredibly fun. It’s a great way to end a long and challenging day.

I think about the new ideas from our work together that we are juggling--they are probably different for each of us in the group, but no less difficult to keep in the air with our old ones. Some of us will probably drop an idea and choose not to pick it back up again, while others will be worth figuring out how to handle. I also think about the fearlessness with which each of us pulls ourselves into the air on the silks. Everyone in our group launches themselves into the work each day, and we laugh and play, even if the work is not always easy. We are interested in changing the world and making art, and we are becoming better at seeing it everywhere around us. As Echo points out earlier in the day, inspired our word creations at El Cascaron, art is in everything, even a f(art). We leave El Bastion tired.

Back at the hotel, we hold a birthday party for Clear on the roof where we first all met each other. It’s a windy night, but we don’t notice during a rousing game of Heads Up!. As I leave the party to go write this blog, Clear gives a little speech (which she claims she will do for everyone as they head out...guess I’ll have to follow up tomorrow). She says I have a “nice face” and look way younger than I actually am. I laugh really hard. It’s a good way to leave. I’m thinking about having her make my exit speeches at all the parties I attend. (Which isn’t many, so she might be up to the task.)

This will probably be the closest thing I do to an Instagram takeover in my life, so I hope you enjoyed it. Tomorrow we split into our studios and go from there. Who knows what’s next?

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jaigeddes · 7 years ago

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A Culture of Models

Architectural models … there’s not a person walking the planet who doesn’t love them. My office isn’t particularly large, either in terms of employees (7) or square footage (1,677 sf), but we currently have 17 physical models of projects lying around. Despite their protests, I am not considering any of my employees as “architectural models”.

At times, it seems like architectural models are like summer zucchini, more and more just keep showing up … if you lift up a piece of paper in our office, odds are you will find one of those two things underneath. There are times when my office looks completely trashed because we have stuff lying on every horizontal surface. Are architects supposed to be tidy people? Evidence would suggest that they are not, something that drives me a bit crazy because I have a hard time working in a messy environment … it’s almost as if the spacing has an energy to it – a sort of visual buzzing – that keeps me from being able to see past the chaos.

We literally have architectural models stashed everywhere – we are at the point now where we will beginning considering either throwing some away – or – start hanging them on the walls. I don’t think I would mind putting some on the walls but these models are typically created during the initial design process and the end product typically isn’t completely representative of the model currently sitting in our office. The issue isn’t that other people would know the difference, it’s that I know the difference.

But that’s where this next model is a bit different … we actually built this model, not as part of the design process, but simply because it represents a different type of project and we wanted if for conversational/educational discussions in the office with clients.

This is the cabin project we recently “completed” and we actually built this model, not as part of the design process, but simply because it represents a different type of project and we wanted if for conversational/educational discussions in the office with clients. I thought I would show it off –

For those not familiar, this is a secluded cabin project in northern Wisconsin (click here to get up to speed with previous cabin posts) and it is in a beautiful location, surrounded by thousands of trees, and fronts on to a lake. For the record, we didn’t color the lake in the model blue, I did that post-production just to help people get their bearings.

Over the course of a few weeks, we had one of our summer interns (Anna Halepaska – a 3rd-year architecture student at Auburn University) built this model from the construction drawings that had been prepared for this project. I was amazed that during the period of time that this model was getting built, Anna didn’t ask me any questions … I suppose the drawings were pretty good after all.

Since I tend to get in the office before everyone else, I would take an early morning photo every few days before anyone else arrived (that whole “No people in my architecture photos” thing must also extend to models)

This is a view of the actual cabin from the point where you emerged from the woods, included here because …

Here is that same view in the model. Of course, when I took this picture, not all the trees had been installed (if you look in the foreground of the picture above, you can see where holes were drilled into the museum board yet no wooden dowels have been glued in place).

This should help clarify the “drilled holes” comment above. Once you’ve built up your topography, about the only way to insert wood dowels is to pre-drill holes into the model – a technique that works pretty well. I will admit that this process has a bit more of the “human element” to it than I would prefer. When you have this many trees in your model, not having all the holes drilled exactly at 90° makes the trees look a lot more how they really exist – which is crooked.

We typically use a product called “museum board” which is a solid-through-the-core white paper board product that is about 1/16″ in thickness, along with basswood, to build the vast majority of our models. It is a fairly cost effective way to go because the materials are relatively inexpensive, readily available, and don’t require simian-like finger strength to cut.

Here is another view of the real cabin during one of my site visits from last winter. In all other seasons, the trees are completely leafed out and this view of the cabin is impossible to capture.

And here is the same view in model form.

Some more views with all the trees in place … clearly these are “winter trees”.

We even added the dock and the steps down to the water for good measure.

I should state that we did not charge the client for this model since at the time that we had it built, it served no practical benefit to them or to the creative process. If I take Anna’s salary over the time that she built this model, along with the actual material costs, this exercise came in around $1,425 … which considering the lifespan it will enjoy in our office, along with the ongoing practical applications during future client meetings, I’d say this was worth the expense.

Not to mention that I like having one of my projects in model form in the office – most of the others belong to projects run by my partner Michael Malone.

If any of you follow my Instagram account, you know that on occasion I will include a photo of some model we are currently working on … like this next image –

Back in April of this year, I received an email from the Art Department Coordinator for a show that runs on USA Network titled ‘Queen of the South’. She told me that they were looking to rent a physical model of a large contemporary home, that they wanted to use this model as a prop in an episode that they were about to start filming.

They quickly sent someone over to our office to take photos to send off to the show’s Production Designer. As it turns out, they said they were having a difficult time finding a physical model available for their use – that few architectural firms were making them anymore. Well, we have loads for you to choose from …

So a deal was struck that allowed them to rent the model for a few days – I think the model was only out of our office 2 days in total. All that was left now was to wait for the show to air and organize a watching party at my house.

A party at my house typically means a lot of eating and drinking so I decided to smoke some BBQ and get everyone in the right frame of mind. Unfortunately, some of the folks in the office couldn’t come – between end of the summer vacations and the obligations of dropping kids off at college, getting everyone in the same place at the same time is incredibly difficult. Rather than record the episode and watch it later (what’s the fun in that?), we decided to watch it live and roll with those who were able to attend.

We had 6 people over and treated those folks to a pretty solid happy hour and casual dinner

Pretty good bark on those ribs if I do say so myself …

Before the show aired, we placed the over/under on how much time the model was on screen at 2 seconds … and even then we expected it to simply be sitting on some table way in the background – sort of an ambiance piece, something to set the mood. The clip where our model appears in the episode is lovingly included for you here:

Teresa Mendoza: I sorry to interrupt your business. Devon Finch: It’s not business … this is pleasure. I’m designing a home, Architecture intrigues me. Teresa Mendoza: I don’t know much about it. Devon Finch: Oh, but you do. The building is just like a business. If the foundation is weak, the structure will never be stable … eventually, everything will come tumbling down.

When the above scene aired, the room EXPLODED! You would have thought that we all went to the same college and our team just won the National Championship game on a last second Hail Mary pass. It was a fun evening to be sure.

There were a three people who had worked on this model when it was originally built, but only one that is currently in the office … and that’s her – Danielle Anderson (of previous ‘Architectural Portfolio‘ fame). We were missing our friends and co-model making buddies, Amy Miller and Erin Weisman Banna, but they were with us in spirit and we raised a rib in their honor.

So the takeaway here is:

physical models are universally cool,

models are useful tools in the office for ongoing client dialogs

they can help get your work on television, and

ribs at my house is good eating

If you need another reason to start building more physical architectural models, I don’t know what to tell you.

Cheers,

PS – previous posts on models that you might enjoy include:

A Case for Building Architectural Models, and one that focuses on ‘Voltron’, the 12′-6″ long model we built two years ago, featured in a post titled Architectural Models.

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