When distinctive trumps ugly: the oil derricks of the World’s Richest Acre in Kilgore, Texas.
Sure it’s weird, but I know I’m not the only one who has romanticized oil refineries. The way their size generates its own skyline, their incompatibility with the natural world, their unparalleled aptitude at point-source pollution: air, soil, light, probably noise. We witness the staggering cruelty to the dilemma that forms the basis for their
Pint sized bark parks: when an undefined patch of land is going to the dogs.
I’m not sure what it is, but something about the downtown to the unincorporated Washington DC suburb of Sliver Spring, Maryland seems have spawned a number of unusual urban forms: acute angles, bizarre protrusions, and neglected little corners. I’ve written about this once before: how a building’s orientation and street frontage created a little storefront
Googie gets guardianship: conserving the Atomic Age through Tom’s Diner in Denver.
It’s not every day that a person stumbles across a location that he or she had recently read about in the news, completely unintentionally. But that’s exactly what happened earlier this year as I nudged my way forward, from a side street onto Colfax Avenue, the main east-west arterial in Denver. And low and behold:
Unveiling the Eisenhower Memorial. And removing a tiny sliver of Maryland in the process.
It’s rare that my work is “hot off the presses”—or, in this case, that it features a subject brand new to the world. But that is most certainly the case with the Dwight D. Eisenhower Memorial, unveiled on the 17th of September and, needless to say, still as fresh as a daisy. Over twenty years
Amoco ascending: an oily American icon comes out from retirement.
A few years ago, while roaming the streets of central Allentown, I saw what had to be a relic from a previous generation: the classic red, white, and blue of the Amoco logo. The torch and oval were so ubiquitous and iconic that even Americans born after 1990 should recognize them—maybe even those who were
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When distinctive trumps ugly: the oil derricks of the World’s Richest Acre in Kilgore, Texas.
Sure it’s weird, but I know I’m not the only one who has romanticized oil refineries. The way their size generates its own skyline, their incompatibility with the natural world, their unparalleled aptitude
Pint sized bark parks: when an undefined patch of land is going to the dogs.
I’m not sure what it is, but something about the downtown to the unincorporated Washington DC suburb of Sliver Spring, Maryland seems have spawned a number of unusual urban forms: acute angles, bizarre
Googie gets guardianship: conserving the Atomic Age through Tom’s Diner in Denver.
It’s not every day that a person stumbles across a location that he or she had recently read about in the news, completely unintentionally. But that’s exactly what happened earlier this year as
Unveiling the Eisenhower Memorial. And removing a tiny sliver of Maryland in the process.
It’s rare that my work is “hot off the presses”—or, in this case, that it features a subject brand new to the world. But that is most certainly the case with the Dwight
Amoco ascending: an oily American icon comes out from retirement.
A few years ago, while roaming the streets of central Allentown, I saw what had to be a relic from a previous generation: the classic red, white, and blue of the Amoco logo.
Recent Comments
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