Wednesday, July 24, 2013

Orange is the new blue.

It's summer so normal people are doing summer things like softball or going to water parks or other activities that appear in tampon commercials.  

I don't do those things because all that shit is HOT and kinda poopy if water parks are involved.  

My summer consists of "cool" summer fun like eating a lot of cold salsa (that's inside burritos) and avoiding the sun.  

You really don't know how fucking terrible the sun is until it's with you for 22 hours of the day.  It's everywhere, y'all, and it never goes to bed.  I can't escape it's melanomic ways.

So I've been having dirty, sinful thoughts about taking off all my clothes at midnight and breaking into someone's backyard.  Where I will go night swimming.  One of my favorite activities of all time.

Except if you're talking about swimming in a lake because that's just gross and I don't like to do that during the day time.

Not a damn clue...

But a pool, the ocean or even a large culvert will do me just fine.  Hey, I'm not picky about my nighttime water parks.

Here I think...
In somewhat unrelated visual news, I'm kinda getting obsessed with deep, midnight, inky, not gonna get e. coli from swimming in the water, dark blue.  I think it's my color for this summer.

Sonja Delauney DREAMS
And the color of my DREAMS.

Cover design by John Gall
My dreams of water.  I'm really reaching for this interpretation, huh?

Nicolas de Stael
Technically my favorite color this summer is orange because I've started binge watching Orange is the New Black aka "The Story of What Would Happen if Lacy Went to Prison" and it's marvelous.


It's not what I thought even though I really didn't have any expectations but it's worth your time.  

It's technically my version of night swimming.  On the couch.  Charlemagne's a licker so it's kinda wet...?

Night swimming heaven right here.  It's like swimming inside magic.  Or your neighbor's kiddie pool at 1 AM.  Same thing.


Carlo Scarpa photographed by Daniel Boudinet
A little golden river... like peeing in the ocean methinks.  (Sorry, fancy architect)


And almost more than stolen kiddie pool moments, I love all these watery paintings by Andrea Pramuk.  

I would steal one then go to prison and they'd make a show about it that you could binge watch.  My gift to the world.

Hope they have cold salsa (in burritos) in prison.

Sunday, July 14, 2013

What would a redneck Harajuku Girl look like? Because I'm going to be one soon.

I hope everyone is having a fantastic summer so far.  Apparently it's already July which is basically August which is pre-Fall and being in Fall right now is blowing my mind.  

Might as well put up my Christmas tree.

What else is blowing my mind lately is this great collection of mid-century photography of rural homes in Japan by Yukio Futagawa.

What, what, in the hut.  (Sorry, I know it's not a hut but I was incredibly amused by the rhyme.  I'll do better.)  

I read that Futagawa is considered the Walker Evans of Japanese architecture which was the only sentence I needed to read about him.  I practically took a running leap down that rabbit hole like one of the Supernatural boys was waiting on me at the bottom with a plate of sushi and some ice cream. 

Is there such a thing as Southern Gothic in Japan?  Because I think I'd like to write a saucy dissertation about it.

After I finish this plate of fictional sushi that Dean Winchester is feeding me...

Although he photographed his entire life, Futagawa's most famous photographs of rural homes was published in a set of ten books, this cover being one of them.  He traveled to many cities mapping each one and documenting the architecturally things.

He mostly documented "minka" which were the vernacular houses originally intended for farmers, merchants and working class.  I'd never known the name for these types of structures and I find the word 'minka' to be fascinating and have been repeating it over and over under my breath like that kid Brick from The Middle. 


Futagawa explained, "Instead of artificial components, minka are made from soil, wood and straw.  The elements are mixed up in such a way that they create different patterns.  The people who live there actually create the houses.  So everything comes natural, nothing is strained." 

Awww you really get me, Yukio. 

I want to name a kid* Minka because it sounds like a valley girl name but when people ask about it I'll scream "Noit'sJapanesevernaculararchitectureyouignorantBITCH!" and then I'll take Minka and her brother Quinoa's hand and we'll sashay our yoga butts right on out of there.



I think part of the reason I'm grooving so hard on the minka is that most of this summer has been filled with home stuff.  Not the wood and straw kind of home stuff (ok some mud, I've been in the yard a lot) but the boring yet complicated bureaucracy of owning a home.  The American way.  

I refinanced the ModSauce Ranch which sounds like the most adult thing I've ever done.  It's even more adult than buying the house in the first place and having to talk to my doctor about joint pain and when to start scheduling mammograms.

Because I'm special (my loan was owned by Fannie Mae or Freddie Mac), I was able to use the HARP - the Home Affordable Refinance Program.  Thanks Obama.  Actually, if I'm going to fake thank a person let's thank Elizabeth Warren.  People on Twitter have heard me talk plenty but if you haven't, check your eligibility NOW because I just got a 2.99% rate and moved to a 15 year loan and am still paying LESS a month that I was.  The notary at my closing high-fived me because that might be the lowest mortgage in recorded human history and also I got a lollipop.

Of course, that sounds fantastic but it was weeks of phone calls and bullshit and me asking what exactly truth in lending means to them because the bank messed up a bunch of papers even after I pointed out their mistakes and I actually had to close twice.  Fucking Mercury in retrograde, y'all.  

Also, fucking banks.

So yeah, I'd like to get all 'Pattern Language' up in the Ranch but it's mostly been remembering how to sign my legal name in cursive, ant invasions, broken washing machines and mildewed laundry, flash flooding, figuring out a new budget spreadsheet that I actually have to stick too, cable companies drilling holes in my wood paneling where none need to be, a renewed and dangerous Starbucks addiction to deal with the stress, and also I need a pedicure so bad I've had a few people look frightened upon sight of me in sandals.


This is like vintage porn to me.  It's the architectural equivalent of old Bettie Page photos.

Make what you will of that.

The only thing better than mid-century photography is the actual published page of the image like these scans are.  It's so grainy and kinda yellow.  Wouldn't you die to own an original set of these books?  

I'm going to check for them on ebay right fucking now...!!

This courtyard, y'all. 

Literally stared at the walkway on the left of this image for five minutes straight.  Wish my summer was filled with nothing but the magic of those stepping stones.

But also the 2.99% interest rate part too.  High five!

All pictures above (and more) from here
Now I have an urge to watch a ton of Kurasawa movies and then cry about my mildewed laundry.

Unfortunately, Futagawa - the handsome devil pictured above - passed away this March from cancer.  Read the Architectural Record obit here.

It's rumored that if you whisper miiiinkaaaa... three times in a bathroom mirror that you'll wake up in Japan and be BFF with that girl from The Grudge. 

Next time y'all read a post of mine I might have a new creepy ass bestie, y'all. 

Tuesday, July 2, 2013

I want this on a keychain...

Star-spangled spatula by J. Riley-Wasserman for Areawear via Minus Manhattan
The only way to show you're a real patriot is to sear your mangled pile of dead cow with our nation's two-dimensional glory. 

And then Instagram that shit so we can all be motherfucking patriots together and incestuously 'Like' everyone else's pics just like that bad bitch Betsy Ross would have wanted us to do.

Have a great holiday filled with fireworks (of whatever kind you choose) and I'll see you on the flip side.