Opinion: as Thomas Heatherwick‘s Provocations exhibition opens in New York, Alexandra Lange questions whether the British designer has done enough yet to prove he can also produce well-built permanent architecture.
Let Thomas Heatherwick tell you a bedtime story. “Can a bus be better and use 40 percent less fuel?” “Can you make a park out of the desert?” “Can a building express on the outside what goes on inside?” If you are Heatherwick, the multi-disciplinary, 40-something, British designer who is co-creating Google’s new headquarters with that other multi-disciplinary 40-something, Danish architect Bjarke Ingels, the answer to all of these questions is YES. And why not? When you are writing the questions and the answers, it’s easy to succeed every time.
In the exhibition Provocations – which just opened at New York’s Cooper Hewitt, National Design Museum, after stops in Dallas and Los Angeles – and his revised and expanded monograph Making, Heatherwick posits the design process as a fairytale, in which no matter how many twists and turns the path takes (he would use the tech jargon “iterate”) you know it will come out happily ever after in the end.
It might take the form of a smoothed-out hybrid London bus with Op-Art seats, a park for Abu Dhabi where a dry landscape becomes a perforated shade for recreation, or a community centre that looks like a pile of rock crystal. That architects have been asking the latter question for centuries goes unaddressed.
Sometimes Heatherwick’s call-and-response technique works wonders. For the Olympic Cauldron, Heatherwick managed to make the human spectacle of the Olympic opening ceremonies into an object – an elegant, organic one at that. A video in the exhibition shows the process of making the cauldron, as well as the moment of truth on 27 July 2012, when the whole thing came together for an international Wow Moment.
Looking at the Olympic Cauldron model at the museum, I was reminded of the Modernist metalwork of Harry Bertoia, also interested in branching forms and sculpture at an architectural scale. The copper top of the cauldron, made of many petals, looked like an Art Nouveau vessel, while the spindly stainless steel poles, grouped together, are more reminiscent of the mushroom-like columns Heatherwick has proposed for parks in London, New York and Abu Dhabi.
When you make an exhibition of a lot of unbuilt work, it tends to show off a designer’s formal obsessions. For Heatherwick, that means mushrooms, hairy buildings, and stacking. It is hard to imagine a more elegant static version than the mixed metals in London in either its lotus start position or its bowl ending.
Also effective, and far less complicated, is Heatherwick’s cladding of a pair of electricity substation vents outside St Paul’s Cathedral in origami-pleated steel. The Paternoster Vents (2000) rise toward the sky like a pair of angel wings, the facets in the steel reflecting the light as if alternating dark and bright. I haven’t been to Paternoster Square so I can’t speak to the quality of the space around the vents, but the design certainly succeeds in making art out of a necessity.
Heatherwick’s question for this project is: “How can energy infrastructure be integrated into a public space?” But this seems to be making more of it after the fact, linking the vents conceptually to a fanciful, unbuilt 2009 scheme for Teesside Power Station, reimagined as a triumvirate of golden stacks banked with earth to create a sloping public park. I prefer to see the vents as cousins to the studio’s prodigious experiments with paper for its annual Christmas card: working within rigorous parameters, turning two dimensions into three, getting it in the mail on schedule.
But the star of the show and of Heatherwick’s career is the Seed Cathedral – his design for the UK Pavilion for the 2010 World Expo. The pavilion is the fullest realisation of the “hairy building” idea, rendered in Shanghai in 66,000 acrylic rods, which widened at the tip to hold 250,000 seeds from the Millennium Seed Bank. It was to be a proper English conservatory turned inside-out, the plants shown as potentialities waiting to be blown away like the spores of the dandelion the pavilion resembled. The acrylic rods are beautiful objects just set in a grid in a case; in situ they channeled light from the outside into the pavilion’s centre, and at night each was lit by its own fibre-optic glow.
In the exhibit the pavilion is modelled in copper, which only increases its resemblance to Bertoia’s mid-century tabletop dandelions in gilded stainless steel. “How can a building represent a nation?” Here you want to wave away the question: the result requires no justification.
Like most monographic museum shows, Provocations is relentlessly positive. Although the exhibition was curated by Cooper Hewitt deputy director Brooke Hodge, I found it unsettling that all of the “provocative” questions were taken directly from Heatherwick’s book, without curatorial commentary. An exhibition of a living designer, especially one for whom his best designs are likely ahead, seems an ideal occasion to start asking questions and writing a narrative from an outside perspective. But here, the subject is allowed to control the story.
As a survey of Heatherwick’s work, Provocations is remarkably thorough: the main gallery includes models, videos, glamorous photos and renderings dating back to 2001. A separate gallery, off to the side, includes early “archival” work, down to those wonderful Christmas cards. It is in this retrospective gallery that we get the hints of failure necessary to all of those YES answers in the unbuilt, the temporary, the spatial experiments in cardboard and zippers.
B of the Bang, the three-dimensional sculpture of a starter pistol’s explosion, was designed by Heatherwick Studio for the Commonwealth Games in Manchester in 2002, and intended to commemorate the dynamism of sport. The last sentence of its label reads: “A recent technical problem led the city to dismantle the project.” That technical problem in 2009 – structural and material – seems worth more than a one-sentence throwaway for a designer whose practice is based on innovative engineering, use of materials, and problem-solving. Every career has its setbacks; the exhibition could have been an opportunity to reflect on what happened between question, answer, and dismantling.
Heatherwick’s best-known works to date have been temporary structures. Both the Cauldron and the UK Pavilion look, in model, like exquisite objects. In reality, they were architecture made of highly refined individual pieces, assemblages of the kind of industrial design in which Heatherwick received his training.
To create larger-scale landscape urbanism like that of New York’s Pier55, London’s Garden Bridge, and Abu Dhabi’s Al Fayah Park the studio assembles a set of parts, the same approach used for the Cauldron and the Seed Cathedral. But these parts have to dazzle for more than a season or more than an opening ceremony. They have to look good in real life, not just on video, and they can’t break down, or be replaced, or require constant care and feeding. At the museum, Heatherwick’s career since 2001 goes from success to success, with the models and the projects growing ever-larger until they culminate, in the final gallery, with Pier55.
Surveying his oeuvre, I wonder if Heatherwick Studio can produce architecture – static, permanent, well-built architecture – that is more than a gimmick or a gadget. Describing his Pier55 design in April, I wrote: “Underneath the lawn, the plaza, and the pre-ruined staircases must be a theatres-worth of lights, wiring, speakers, electronics veiled in a skim-coat of plant life.” The critique of the Garden Bridge has been far more scathing at the level of urbanism, architecture and landscape design, but the same question can be asked of both: “Who needs it?” Just because you can “make a new pier that is also a park and a world-class performance space,” should you?
If you think of architecture as an agglomeration of specially designed parts, it may seem easy to add another program on another mushroom or two. But successful public space tends to have more room for serendipity, for public input and indeed, long-term success requires less technology rather than more.
Could Heatherwick’s architecture – so unusual, so delightful – actually be pushy and mechanical? He says he has no interest in style, but few designers can help returning to familiar patterns. The Nanyang Technological University Learning Hub, a 2015 building which “stacks” round classrooms of various circumferences atop each other, is intended to “make students and teachers bump into each other as much as possible”. On its interior, bulging balconies lurch toward one another as if saying: Hello! Hello! Is this pleasant or, for the introvert, nightmarish? We all need to hear the answer from a Heatherwick user, after the happily ever after.
I cook three nights a week out of necessity and I hate it. I am a horrible cook. The prep work takes me forever, and I lack the patience and dexterity to chop, dice or mince vegetables into consistent sizes.
Here’s a video of it being reviewed, and for the impatient among you we’ve cued it up to right when the usage starts:
(Is it me or was there a quick edit shortly after she begins shredding the carrots? Hmm.)
To vet the device I forwarded the video to my girlfriend, who like me is an industrial designer, but who unlike me is a talented cook. I asked her if she thought this thing was legit, or gimmicky. “Gimmicky!” she wrote back. “It looks like a gadget that’ll just take up space in your kitchen. This isn’t different from a food processor which is way more efficient.”
Yeah, but the ripcord is so cool I wanted to say.
Anyways, experienced cooks among you: Does this seem at all useful, would you ever use this? Would the hassle of washing the thing out offset the convenience? Do you think the ripcord will last over time? This design looks like it would solve one of my problems, but I am admittedly an idiot in the kitchen. Am eager to hear feedback from industrial designers that cook frequently.
TITLE: Organizing the Silverware When There Isn’t a Drawer
SUBTITLE: Cutlery caddies to the rescue
We’ve talked about tools for organizing a silverware drawer. But not everyone has a drawer that can be used for the cutlery. In some cases the kitchen drawers are too narrow to store the silverware; in other cases, drawers got removed to add a dishwasher. Some people even wind up in apartments where the kitchens have no drawers at all. So other products are needed, such as cutlery caddies.
This caddy from Core Bamboo is rectangular, so it makes better use of space than a series of round containers would. And since the handle goes down, it might even fit in a cabinet. But the back section is designed to hold napkins; some end users might have liked it better with more silverware compartments.
Other caddies have removable storage cylinders, which makes for easier cleaning. If there are multiple cylinder colors or styles to choose from (as is the case with this caddy from Cal-Mil) the owners can easily adjust if they move to new places with different color schemes. The revolving base can make it easier for end users to reach the silverware they want.
Since kitchens without adequate drawers often lack counter space, too, a caddy with a vertical orientation (such as this one from Pottery Barn) can be useful.
Many caddies have three compartments, which won’t work for those who want a finer degree of separation than forks, knives and spoons. This revolving-base six-ring caddy from Cal-Mil is the type of design that might work for such end users. Because it has three rings on each level and no handle, it’s only 15 1/4″ tall, which is shorter than the Pottery Barn caddy above. Height can be critical if the end user wants to place the caddy toward the back of a countertop, under the top cabinets.
Other designs that can work when there are no drawers are flatware sets that come with their own countertop racks. This requires the end user to be satisfied with the flatware style and selection of pieces, as well as the rack, so it’s a more complex design challenge.
There are a variety of ways the flatware can hang from its rack. The 16-piece Tanja set from Essmeyer uses cut-outs in the handles to hang the pieces.
The Victoria cutlery set from FNS has the end user put the pieces through slots. This design will lead to the pieces being picked up by the tines or the bowls rather than the handles, which some end users won’t like.
Mixzone’s 3-cylinder storage rack is a wall-mounted option for cutlery, but it sure seems like a complex design. Those cylinders are made of a frosted acrylic rather than the more common stainless steel.
Another way to save counter space would be an under-cabinet option. These flatware cylinder holders from Steril-Sil are designed for commercial use, under a bar, but a similar design might work in some homes, too.
This domed design from Godinger would work for those who like the idea of a cutlery caddy but don’t like the idea of the flatware sitting out and getting dusty. However, it’s very fussy, with each piece of silverware fitting into a set of notches—another design that will be too physically challenging for some to use.
You may find yourself with unused medications for a variety of reasons. For example, your doctor could make a change to your prescription, or you may have medications that have expired.
How do you properly dispose of those medications? You have three options.
Donate them using repository programs
In the U.S., some states have programs for medication redistribution. Many of these are conducted at the facility level, allowing pharmacies and nursing homes, for example, to find alternatives to destroying usable medications.
However, some states have drug repository programs that will accept medications from individuals, as long as the medications are in their original sealed and tamper-evident packaging (such as blister-cards) and won’t expire in the near future. Missouri, Iowa, and Wisconsin are three of the states that have such programs. You can search online to see if your state has a similar program. Note that these programs cannot accept controlled substances, which include some pain, sleep, and anxiety medications.
Safely dispose of them using medication take-back programs
Take-back programs are a great way to safely dispose of expired or excess medications. In my area, there are drop-off containers at many police stations. Other locales in the U.S. use boxes from the National Association of Drug Diversion Investigators (with its Rx Drug Drop Box) or MedReturn, which have box locator functions on their websites. Some pharmacies also accept medications, and Dispose My Meds has a pharmacy locator.
You can also search for medications at Earth911 to find a disposal site near you. And you could check with your trash/recycling service provider to see what options are available in your area.
The Drug Enforcement Agency, along with local law enforcement organizations, used to hold an annual National Prescription Drug Take-Back Day. Because there are now more options for disposing of these medications — the law was changed in 2014 to allow for more authorized collectors — the DEA has no plans for future take-back days.
Other countries such as Canada and Australia also have take-back programs.
Safely dispose of them at home
The FDA has instructions on how to safely dispose of medications as part of your household trash if no better option is available:
Mix medicines (do not crush tablets or capsules) with an unpalatable substance such as dirt, kitty litter, or used coffee grounds.
Place the mixture in a container such as a sealed plastic bag.
Throw the container in your household trash.
Scratch out all personal information on the prescription label of your empty pill bottle or empty medicine packaging to make it unreadable, then dispose of the container.
The FDA also provides a short list of medications that can be especially harmful if used by anyone other than the person for whom they were prescribed. If these specific medicines cannot be disposed of quickly using a take-back program, the FDA recommends flushing them down the toilet as soon as they are no longer needed. Specific disposal information may have come with the medicine, but the FDA also links to that information if you don’t have it. This is the only time when flushing is recommended. In general, flushing is strongly discouraged for reasons that the Environmental Protection Agency explains (PDF).
New York Times staff photographer Ruth Fremson started covering war conflicts 20 years ago. On the occasion of this anniversary, she has checked in with some fellow female photojournalists to gauge the state of the profession in general and their experiences in particular.
Fremson spoke with AP sports photographer Kathy Willens, former Time staffer Diana Walker, AP photo editor Mike Feldman, freelancer Nicole Tung and National Geographic contributing photographer Kitra Cahana. Cahana, born in Miami and raised in Canada, did the Thomas Morgan internship at the Times and has won numerous awards and grants. But she reminds that it’s not just print journalists these days who are dealing with trying professional circumstances:
“I’m not making more than the poverty threshold, even with all these accolades and connections in the industry,” she said. “I think my successes are blown out of proportion. There are big challenges facing anyone who is a photojournalist these days, so it is hard to shine a positive light. Maybe they are pointing to young female photographers as a way to say that, but I’m not sure it’s really fully there.”
Cahana has given several TED talks. Willens meanwhile has some colorful recollections of sexism in the profession, from the Miami locker room to the press gallery of the United Nations. Read the rest of Fremson’s piece here.
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Pour le Lodz 4 Cultures Festival, l’artiste Isaac Cordal a enfermé dans des petits balcons présentant des personnages miniatures sur une façade d’un immeuble à Lodz, en Pologne. Intitulée « Sasiedzi » (« voisinage »), cette oeuvre montre des protagonistes isolés afin de mettre en relief que même ensemble, nous sommes seuls et nous ne communiquons plus à cause des nouvelles technologies. Certaines figurines tiennent un téléphone portable, tête baissée vers l’écran, ou passent un coup de fil pour montrer qu’elles communiquent ailleurs, à travers des smartphones au lieu de vivre le moment présent.
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