Nalina Moses

ARCHITECT, WRITER, CURATOR

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There’s a big black bear on Madison Avenue, presiding over the private school kids, museum-goers, ladies who lunch, and stroller-pushing nannies who pack the sidewalks there. He’s perched twenty feet above street level, on the giant, L-s…

There’s a big black bear on Madison Avenue, presiding over the private school kids, museum-goers, ladies who lunch, and stroller-pushing nannies who pack the sidewalks there. He’s perched twenty feet above street level, on the giant, L-shaped billboard at the northeast corner of 84th Street, and he’s in town to announce the new outpost of LA-based designer James Perse.  The sign, about twenty-five feet tall, wraps the top three floors of a small four-story building. It’s constructed from translucent white fabric that’s pulled tight over a steel frame.  And it's entirely blank except for the stark black profiles of a grizzly bear and a five-point star, both icons lifted directly from the California state flag. The bear is about twenty feet high and lumbers left, on all fours, across the corner of the billboard, from the side street onto Madison Avenue. The star, five feet high, floats in front of him, right off the top of the sign.

There are trendy new boutiques popping up all over this neighborhood, just above and below 86th Street, but the sidewalk experience here remains stubbornly uninspired. The small storefronts, tucked along the bottom of limestone apartment blocks, have ladylike window displays and hand-painted signboards that cultivate a cloying, small-town feeling. So this bear lights up the place like an explosion.  The immense black-on-white sign is graphically arresting, visible from over two blocks away, and builds excitement for the brand without flashing lights, bright colors or sexed-up imagery. The sign also makes an alluring dress for its building, a slim, postmodern steel and glass block.  In daylight, from across the street, both the building and the screen’s delicate metal skeleton are visible behind the graphic in ghostly profile, and the tarp shimmers as if it’s taking breaths.  It’s an eruption of life into the streetscape.


Photograph by Nalina Moses.

October 24, 2013 by Nalina Moses
October 24, 2013 /Nalina Moses
RETAIL, FASHION, CONSTRUCTION, scaffolding, billboards, GRAPHIC DESIGN, California, James Perse, Madison Avenue
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The Renzo Piano show (Fragments) at the Gagosian gives us one table piled with things (books, drawings, sketches, photographs, prototypes, models) for each of twenty-four of the architect's projects.  So there’s a table for the Jean-Marie Tjib…

The Renzo Piano show (Fragments) at the Gagosian gives us one table piled with things (books, drawings, sketches, photographs, prototypes, models) for each of twenty-four of the architect's projects.  So there’s a table for the Jean-Marie Tjibaou Cultural Centre in New Caledonia, another for the Centre Georges Pompidou in Paris, and another for the New York Times Building.  More models and prototypes hang from the ceiling on wires, twitching like helium-filled balloons, while the walls of the gallery remain entirely empty.  If the curators wanted to steer clear of a conventional installation, they’ve succeeded, but the tables don’t serve Piano’s work well, giving a confetti-like blast of information (fragments) for each building rather than a sense of what it is.  It’s especially disconcerting because Piano has a gift for synthesizing various building components (image, skin, structure, mechanics) in a single form.  Many of his buildings are skeletal; they take their origin in a frame (interior or exterior), and all their workings cling to it.

The best parts of the displays are the large-scale mockups and prototypes for individual building parts.  Ceramic blocks (glazed in sun-drenched yellow, orange and green) from the Central Saint Giles office blocks in London have a high class kookiness.  A wood cladding prototype for the new addition to the Fogg Museum, with boards nestled snugly over one another like a row of sleeping animals, promises that the project will be beautifully crafted.  And an arm-long structural rib from a 1983 IBM Traveling Pavilion, a delicately cambered redwood arch with a worn aluminum Celtic-cross-shaped connector, has the presence of a relic.  These and the other large-scale models get at the constructedness of Piano's buildings.  While they’re pragmatic things – like machine parts – they’re supremely elegant, designed with care but little fuss.  (Compare that to the parts of Santiago Calatrava’s building, which embody a lot of fuss.)  We can find all sorts of things (drawings, photographs and narratives) about Piano’s buildings online.  Why didn’t the curators just pack the gallery with those things we can’t?

Studio at Renzo Piano Building Workshop, Genoa.  Photo by Fregoso & Basal.  Courtesy of Renzo Piano Building Workshop.

August 13, 2013 by Nalina Moses
August 13, 2013 /Nalina Moses /Source
ARCHITECTURE, Renzo Piano, Gagosian, EXHIBITIONS, CONSTRUCTION, MODELS
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