We have a lot of parking! In some cities, 11 off-street spaces for every household. Even the downtowns of compact, mid-size New England cities like Providence use 15% to 20% of this prime real estate as surface lots.
The dank Grotto beneath Cogswell Tower, the silent generators of the hydroelectric station on the Blackstone River, the cavernous, empty auditorium of the Elks' Hall: these spaces, once secret, are now places that we know.
Our old office's perch above Westminster Street's urban bustle could always pique the mind. But the soul prefers our current situation on the edge of a 20-foot cubic void with high windows framing a view of the open sky.
In 2019, the pricey bits of cities need fewer architectural ateliers and more luxury flats. When an investor took our building off the market earlier this year, it meant the end of some of Downcity's last bohemian workspaces. Bad for us, good for Providence.
Over several days in November, we installed the piece. Tape is a great medium: highly portable, easy to handle, versatile, visually powerful and fast. It requires no tools beyond an olfa knife. And sticking up the tape induces a kind of zen state.
Urban areas that combine wide streets with flat topography, longish distances and a mild climate are perfect fits, in theory, for scooters. The challenge in New England is compact, hilly geographies and increasingly unpredictable winters.
Earlier this year, our project "SLICE: The Inhabited Facade" received the Richard L. Blinder Award from the James Marston Fitch Charitable Foundation, a biennial award for projects that advance the practice of historic preservation. SLICE is an architectural...
If we are guided entirely by process, expression is limited to the point where something like jazz is impossible. But without process, there would be no jazz -- a riff has be on something, it can’t exist in vacuum.