The game of Jenga is pretty ubiquitous in geek circles. It’s a party game that seems to reach all ages, all skill levels, and every experience. The ingenious little blocks can be moved and replaced in a myriad of ways, and still stand together… well, until they don’t.
And if any of you out there have seen or participated in Omegathon, you’ll know that Jenga scales surprisingly well. But you may never have imagined it this big. Sou Fujimoto Architects in Japan have created a house built around the same principals as that beloved wooden-brick-stacking game, and the results are rather stunning. Over at ArchDaily.com, they share some thoughts on the process and thinking behind the structure, which was completed in 2008:
Lumber is extremely versatile. In an ordinary wooden architecture, lumber is effectively differentiated according to functions in various localities precisely because it is so versatile. Columns, beams, foundations, exterior walls, interior walls, ceilings, floorings, insulations, furnishings, stairs, window frames, meaning all. However, I thought if lumber is indeed so versatile then why not create architecture by one rule that fulfills all of these functions. I envisioned the creation of new spatiality that preserves primitive conditions of a harmonious entity before various functions and roles differentiated.
While the house might not quite be ready for permanent residents (I imagine there’s quite a draft in the winter, and well, rain is likely a problem) it’s still a stunning example of art and architecture living together in harmony. Is it sculpture? Is it a dwelling? Does it matter?
Image: Sarah Pinault – Discovering Duplo last Christmas
Several times since my toddler discovered Duplo, we have built a single block tower as high as we could reach. At a certain point it becomes unstable and topples over. The people at Open University in the UK have taken our quest one step further, to discover how high a Lego tower can be before it crushes the blocks in the first layer, theoretically, of course. Taking into account the mass of the material and its yield strength, they believe the tower could stretch 2.17 miles. Though at this height the strength of the blocks would not be the biggest obstacle; the tower would encounter the same problem that my toddler encounters with his Duplo — it would topple. So physicists and pre-schoolers, all building towers out of toy bricks to watch them fall, that’s what I want to be when I grow up!
Biowall Baby, one of the youngest people to tour the award-winning home built for the Solar Decathlon. The biowall is a special air filtration feature of the design. -photo courtesy of Team Purdue InHome
Last week Andrea Schwalm wrote a great post about the Solar Decathalon in Washington, D.C. I was really tempted to make the field trip, but rationality took hold and I decided against another trip to D.C. this year. (Read about the last time I drove to D.C., for what I call The Accidental Holiday.) Instead of touring the spectacular Decathlon houses on display, I stayed in Indiana—pout, pout—and rooted for the home team.
Wouldn’t you know, Team Purdue’s entry InHome came in second place! Those university kids not only designed the house, they engineered it, built it, deconstructed it, shipped it to DC, reconstructed it, and are in the process of deconstructing it again this week to ship it home.
Talk about learning life skills! Ha! And you bi-coastal geeks thought all mid-Westerners could do was grow corn and basketball players. [insert victory dance here]
That got me thinking about my love of architecture. You see, when I was in my 20s I contemplated studying architecture, but I chose film school instead. If I’d followed that other path, if I’d become an architect, I would have wanted to be an architect like the kids at Purdue. I’d want to be an architect who thinks about how a traditional looking wrap around porch engages the outer community and adds to the energy efficiency of a home, about other passive solar design strategies, and even biowall air filtration systems.
In May, during TEDxBloomington, I fell in love with a Chicago-based architect and mom of charming 9-year-old Max, Amy Yurko. It’s not just that Yurko designs schools for young people, so that they have lovely learning environments. It’s all the things she keeps in mind as she designs with her philosophy “The Wonder of Wonder.” Though I didn’t have much time to speak with her in person, through the magic of video and YouTube, I’ve listened to this TEDx talk more than once, and I hope you find it as inspiring as I do.
Post Script: Purdue University is only about 2-1/2 hours north of Bloomington, my home. So when Team Purdue rebuilds their award-winning house in West Lafayette, Indiana—schedule of future tours to be announced—I’ll definitely get in line for a tour. Maybe I’ll ask Amy Yurko to drive down from Chicago, where her company Brain Spaces is based, to meet me on the Purdue campus, so we can can stroll through the structure in person, basking together in the wonder of wonder.
Shane Skaggs of Menkin Media, Photographed by Gina Clifford
When I told my nine year-old that I met the person who created the Clutch Powers Lego hero, he screamed with excitement. The true heroes of the theme park world (the people who dream up, design, and build our favorite themed attractions around the world) converged at the Ports of Call at Sea World in Orlando, Florida recently to share, socialize, and engage at the SATE (Storytelling, Architecture, Technology, and Experience) conference. The Themed Entertainment Association hosted SATE’11 at Sea World around the theme “The Power of Story”, and its conference attracted some of the coolest theme park geeks in the world.
How cool it was to peek into the themed entertainment design business for a day. I learned the quirky story behind the Swarovski Crystals theme park in Austria, the origin of Lego’s Clutch Powers hero, and that Disney is creating a new Avatar attraction. Best of all, I chatted with some of the coolest and most successful themed entertainment professionals in the world. These folks win Thea, Telly, and Emmy awards. They take inspiration from and pay homage to architecture, nature, Hollywood movies, and history. Their palettes contain everything from computer-generated movies, to sophisticated combinations of video projection, architectural construction, sound design, motion simulation, water, wind, air, story telling, and more. The projects they build might surprise you. We all probably think about Disney and Universal Studios when we think of themed entertainment, but I quickly discovered a whole universe of interesting themed entertainment projects.
Shane Skaggs from Nashville, Tenn. is a video specialist for Mankin Media Systems and he is passionate about storytelling through technology. Looking a very youthful 31, Shane shared a great story about how his company participated in converting a church’s youth center interior into a House of Blues-inspired theme complete with a 30-foot projection screen. The church, located in Louisville, KY, is called The Block. Do not be fooled by the simple name, the architectural details and technology integration inside of this building are stunning.
Inside The Block - Photo by Jody Forehand of Visioneering Studios, used with permission
Dina Benadon and Brent Young of Super 78, based in Hollywood, Ca, are rocking the museum world in Singapore, where they have designed a 360-degree immersive experience called Typhoon Theater in the Maritime Xperiential Museum – Resorts World Sentosa.
The Maritime Xperiential Museum-Resort Photo by Jason Mendoza, used with permission.
The experience, opening in October 2011, literally and figuratively sinks the audience into the story of a 9th century trading vessel along the Maritime Silk Road as a massive typhoon hits. Using state-of-the-art in-theatre effects including projecting video onto painted silk, passengers find themselves in the depths of the ocean, up close with the shipwreck and magnificent marine life. Water spray, temperature changes, sound effects, and wind machines make the experience completely immersive. Dina and Brent designed Typhoon Theatre’s powerful story around a real shipwreck. The Maritime Xperiential Museum was built to house the Jewel of Muscat, a reproduction of a shipwrecked Arabian dhow found preserved in sediment. According to Wikipedia, the wreck contained the biggest single collection of Tang Dynasty artifacts ever found in one place and revealed previously unknown details about trade between the Middle East and China.
Kristy Scanlan and Joshua Wexler of Threshold Animation Studios in Los Angeles, Ca, really understand geek moms and geek dads. It is obvious that they both share a deep passion for fun and creativity in their work. For example, Kristy, who is head of production at Threshold Animation Studios, revealed that in the Bionicles movie, produced by Threshold Animation Studios, hieroglyphics written on the walls are actually names of production staff members.
Joshua is a self-proclaimed geek dad and he proves it in a big way. Joshua, co-founder of Threshold, has been a Lego fan since childhood and is the father of two seven year-olds. He is also the creator of the Lego hero, Clutch Powers, cleverly named after the Lego term Clutch Power — the strength of the connection between Lego bricks. Joshua, in homage to Superman, Star Wars, Monty Python, Aliens, and Indiana Jones, dreamed up Clutch Powers so that Lego might have its own hero. He pitched the idea to Lego and Lego loved it. The rest is history.
Clutch Powers in Legloland Florida Miniland USA- Photo taken by Joshua Wexler, used with permission
As the mother of a Clutch Powers fanatic, I asked Joshua for some cool, undocumented facts about the movie. Joshua delivered. The Arthur Fol character’s name comes from the acronym A.F.O.L. or Adult Fan of Lego. If you visit Legoland Florida, which opens on October 15, 2011, be sure to check out Las Vegas in Miniland USA to catch a glimpse of Clutch Powers on a billboard there. While you are at Legoland Florida, check out the Clutch Powers 4D attraction, which was designed by Threshold Animation Studios.
Theme parks are the ultimate immersive experience, and the people who dream, design, and create them are among the most dynamic, creative, and fun people on the planet. Therefore, the next time I visit the Wizarding World of Harry Potter or stand in line at the Legoland Florida park, I will go with a newfound appreciation for the real heroes behind these amazing immersive experiences. Thanks SATE’11!
After emerging from the Metro station, up the stairs, out of the colonnade, I found myself standing in front of the offices of the EPA. The graceful curve of the Indiana limestone made feel right at home.
I just had a fabulous holiday, even though none of it went the way I had planned.
When I found out my daughter had a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to play music with her high school band on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, I decided to make the 10-1/2 hour trip, too, along with my teenage son. But on the first day our car broke down in the Appalachian mountains, and that was only one of the things that went wrong. (Read more about the disasters in Part 1 of this story.)
Even after I found out my daughter’s concert was canceled due to stormy weather and the whole point of our trip had washed away, I emerged from the Federal Triangle Metro station smiling. What happened to make our string of disasters, one of the most delightful holidays I’ve ever had?
Here is my account of the accidental pleasures of our trip, each with its own lesson:
Day 1, Thursday – After my car started blowing smoke and I coasted to the highway shoulder, an altruistic motorist stopped to offer assistance and called a tow truck driver he knew. Roger, the tow-truck driver, seemed to know everyone in Monogahella County and carried on a number of conversations with folks in nearby vehicles stopped at rush hour traffic lights. We got a local color tour of Morgantown while we dropped our car off at the Toyota service department. It was no surprise that all the mechanics had gone home for the evening. But Roger didn’t abandon us there. He took us to a charming, nearby hotel in the heart of Morgantown, the Hotel Morgan. We took a walk, found a sandwich shop, and returned to our lovely room–with excellent wireless and a spacious sitting area–to watch American Idol.
The whole stranded-by-the-side-of-the-road incident turned into an opportunity to allow people to help us. Key figures in our story, the man who stopped and called the tow truck and Roger, of course, who went far beyond towing our car to a shop. He made sure we were checked in with the hotel and that we’d received their best discount rate. (I teased him about being the hotel owner, driving his dad’s truck as his cover. He swears he doesn’t own the hotel. Maybe he’s the town mayor. If he’s not head of the Morgantown Chamber of Commerce, he should be.)
Day 2, Friday – We spent the morning in the dealership service waiting area–more excellent wireless–wondering if my car engine was destroyed and if this kind of catastrophic failure would be covered in the five-year manufacturer’s warranty for the power train. On the bright side, even though we were both unhappy and impatient about how long it took, the service folks rearranged their schedule to help us, the stranded travelers, so we could be back on the road. The potentially catastrophic oil leak only cost $100 to fix and there was NO engine damage.
Trip artifacts: Roger's Towing, Metro map and a pair of day passes, tickets to the Spy Museum, a "shocker" pen--the original spy weapon likely dealt a stun or even lethal shock; this one delivers a slight zing--coupons for Bike and Roll rental, a book of Lincoln's greatest speeches, and our driving home entertainment.
My son made significant progress on his last outstanding homework assignment. I fielded communication for the upcoming multi-media event I’m producing.
Finally, we got back on the road and made it to my friend Tina’s house, a day late. She took us on a car tour of the capital and we went for a walk in Georgetown and ate at a fabulous seafood place called the Tackle Box.
My son–usually a picky eater–tried and liked his first raw oyster.
Day 3, Saturday – We were staying very close to a Metro stop with a commuters’ parking garage, so we drove there, found that the parking is free on Saturdays (small reprieve), and bought day passes.
This was my son’s first experience on light rail mass transit, and he loved everything about it: reading the maps, following the signs where we switched lines, people watching, big city stuff.
While we were waiting on the platform to change from the Red Line to the Blue Line, my daughter texted me that her 11 a.m. concert had been canceled. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. But I knew we had a wet day to explore the city. Going on Tina’s recommendation , we spent the morning in the Spy Museum. My favorite exhibit was the concealed button camera on a wool overcoat designed for KGB agents. My son’s favorite was the glove gun, an ultra-cool assassination weapon. We both enjoyed the interactive simulations that tested our disguise detection skills.
My son and I both earned perfect scores on our spy game missions.
In the Natural History Museum, near a salt water tank with living coral, we saw the traveling exhibit of a crocheted coral reef, demonstrating hypebolic math.
In the afternoon our first stop was the National Archives, but the umbrella-heavy line wrapped around the building discouraged us. My son wanted to return later to see the Declaration of Independence (featured in a very cool movie, National Treasure), but our path took us other directions and we never did make it back. I hoped to connect with the band kids at one of the sites, but they were on a tour bus and we were on foot, so our trajectories never meshed.
My son and I both exercised flexibility about our expectations for the day. Once the central expectation had been shattered, it seemed easier to “go with the flow.” We experienced emotional growth as a team.
I learned why the words of our National Anthem carry such power. The battle that inspired Francis Scott Key wasn’t just any battle, with a navy ship bombarding a fort. In 1812, British forces were very close to winning the war. They had just burned Washington, D.C. to the ground. The young United States was in real danger of losing its independence. The dawn that the Star Spangled Banner still waved marked a turning point in the war.
Tina riding her rented bicycle on a cobblestone pathway leading to the Woodrow Wilson Plaza. The sensation of riding across cobblestones and the sound of stone transported us to another state of mind.
My feet got tired and my son got hungry, so we navigated the subway again, like pros. That evening we went to a suburban mall with Tina, saw a fabulous movie Source Code and went shoe and hat shopping. In other words, we took a break from being serious tourists, and just kicked back and had fun.
Day 4, Sunday – The weather was perfect and that was certainly a key factor that made this day the best of the entire trip. Our mode of transportation was da bomb, too. Across the street from our downtown stop, the Federal Triangle Metro station, we’d spotted a bicycle rental shop, Bike and Roll, the day before, and though the group tours were already booked, the hourly rentals were plentiful and affordable. (I highly recommend this company. They have kiosks in 5 cities.)
My 13-year-old biker boy lobbied for the bicycle option. (He would have happily peddled in the torrential Saturday rain). I was a little nervous he would leave me in the dust, but it was clearly the ideal way to explore downtown D.C. and the memorials. Tina came, too, and even though she has toured them all before, she said bicycling with us was by far the best way to see the monuments.
Some of the most interesting public spaces are not marked as memorials on the tourist maps. When we rode our bikes across the street and through the colonnade of the Federal Triangle Metro station we found the Woodrow Wilson Plaza, and when we locked our bikes for a rest stop, we entered the “back door” of the largest building in DC. Not the Capitol Building, the Ronald Reagan Building and International Trade Center, which happens to contain an extensive art collection. Its dramatic atrium, used for all sorts of gala events, was almost empty–unlike all the overcrowded museums.
My boy lounging under the neon and glass sculpture inside the atrium of the Ronald Reagan Building and International Trade Center. Sculpture by Keith Sonnier
Once we were outfitted and had explored the neon sculpture, we toured all the major monuments around the mall, pedaling to each and parking to take closer looks. We saw: the Washington Monument (obelisk), the Lincoln Memorial (alas, no band), The Vietnam Veterans Memorial (where I touched the wall and cried over the 58,195 names), and the WWII Memorial (where a high school band from some other small town played music in the sunshine).
I read Lincoln’s second inaugural address, which is carved on the wall to the right of his sculpture, opposite the Gettysburg Address. He gave this speech near the end of the Civil War, and spoke of the suffering so many had endured, the suffering of both the slaves who were soon to be freed and of the soldiers and families who lost so much on the battlegrounds. This was another place that brought tears to my eyes.
After a late lunch, we pedaled to the other side of the tidal basin to the Jefferson Memorial, a breathtaking, circular space with a towering sculpture of a visionary leader, Thomas Jefferson, with some of his visionary thoughts carved into the marble walls.
Even though the Jefferson Memorial is a fair distance from all the other memorials, people from all over the world walked to this space. (And the lucky ones, like us, rode bikes!) The sense I had can be summed up in one word: awe.
Last, but not least, we rode through the F.D.R. Memorial. And when I say rode, I mean this memorial is a series of plazas and courtyards and fountains. So we truly did not get off to park and lock our bikes. It was interesting to see human-scale bronze sculptures depicting Depression-era scenes, like bread lines along with FDR’s words, “The test of our progress is not whether we add more to the abundance of those who have much, but whether we provide enough for those who have too little.”
My boy reading President Lincoln’s second inaugural address.
Lesson #—make it an even dozen:
I had never realized how patriotic I am. And, I’m so glad I was able to share all my discoveries with my boy.
Day 5, Monday – We started the morning with pancakes and loading the car. We had a blissfully uneventful trip home, listening to the audio book, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.
The key to our success was our most gracious and generous hostess, Tina. She gave us a comfy bed and sofa and, as a bona fide foodie, she made sure we all had the best tasting and nutritious fuel possible. Food, rest, and friendship are, as every mother knows, the foundation for all good experiences. Everything else about our holiday fell apart, yet we had a fabulous time together.
Planning a trip is an important step to any holiday. But when nothing goes the way you had in mind, it may not be the ultimate sucky disaster, it may be the start of a delightful adventure. I urge my future self to remember how sweet it has been for me and my son to discover our journey as it unfolded, and to continue to stay open to the accidental pleasures along the way.
Recently I planned a fabulous, inexpensive holiday for myself. But, it’s interesting how journeys take on a life of their own.
When I found out my daughter had a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to play music with her high school band on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, my parent gland fully engaged. I decided I had to make the trip, too. After all, it’s only 10-1/2 hours from southern Indiana to Washington, D.C. I have a relatively new car that gets great gas mileage and plenty of audio books to keep me company. Road trip! I haven’t taken a serious road trip by myself, since . . . scanning memory banks … gasp … since before parenthood. This trip was way over due.
Then, a week before departure, my son expressed interest in going, too. I’d imagined full days of uninterrupted quiet time for myself (sole introvert in a constantly wound-up family of social creatures—see R.L. LaFevers recent article to appreciate my frame of mind), but I was willing to be flexible and trade in my solo trip for an interesting parenting experience. After all, how often does a teenager ask to spend time with his mother? I checked with his teachers and arranged to get his 7th-grade homework assignments done beforehand. We were set. Our adventure was to be an educational opportunity for both of us.
This was the basic plan:
Day 1, Thursday – Drive east all day. Stay at my friend Tina’s house in Maryland.
Day 3, Saturday – See and hear the band play at the Lincoln Memorial in the morning (the focal point of the trip), and then tag along with the band for an afternoon of memorial hopping.
Day 4, Sunday – Sleep in and lazily head back west sometime in the afternoon. Spend the night at a state park in the Appalachians.
Day 5, Monday – Hike a short trail in the morning. In the afternoon, drive another 6 hours home.
Here’s what really happened. (Brace yourself. The facts aren’t pretty):
We had planned to go to the National Archives and see the Declaration of Independence, but the line was too long for our patience. Across the street, we discovered the U.S. Navy Memorial Plaza, and we contemplated our strategy at the fountain pool surrounding the granite sea.
Day 1, Thursday – Drive until the car breaks down. Get towed to a college town in West Virginia, and pay $100 for a hotel room. (Reminder to self: still need to pay for the tow.)
Day 2, Friday – Spend the morning in a auto service shop waiting room. Pay another $100. Spend the afternoon driving to our destination.
Day 3, Saturday – Daughter’s once-in-a-lifetime-concert at the Lincoln Memorial is canceled due to weather. Dodge thunderstorms and downpours. Skip the National Archives because the line is too long and make it to only three crowded and stuffy museums in a city where there are too many museums to count, and apparently enough visitors to stuff them all.
Day 4, Sunday – Find out the bicycle tour of national monuments is already booked. Rent bikes for a self-guided tour, during which the chain on one bike falls off and jams.
Day 5, Monday – Drive west all day. Arrive home after 10, thoroughly exhausted, needing a week of rest to recover from the trip.
Before Day 1 was over, my son summed up the trip this way: “Sucky.” I thought he used restraint with his language choices, and I was ready to give him gold stars for demonstrating exceptional maturity and an even temper in the face of serious distress.
Those made of weaker stuff might have bailed that first day. But when the oil plug cracked, we were already more than 2/3rds of the way to our destination. We didn’t yet know the Lincoln Memorial concert would be canceled. Yes, rain was in the forecast, but I’ve seen these kids march in a drenching downpour. Understand, they’re among the elite from a state filled with highly competitive band geeks. Nothing stops them. How could we stop? So we pressed on, determined to make the best of it.
To find out how we survived our five day holiday, fraught with unexpected disasters, read Part 2 of my story, coming soon.
Some kids idolize athletes, others idolize screen stars. Mine idolizes people like Jan Vormann, who goes nowhere without his bag of LEGO bricks.
A wall in Tel Aviv from www.dispatchwork.info.
Vormann has traveled to cities like Tel Aviv, Barcelona, and New York where he uses LEGO bricks to fill in crumbling architecture as part of his dispatchwork project. Some of his installments are done in conjunction with museums and are actually cemented in place. Others, he knows, may eventually fall apart and end up in the hands of a curious kid. He’s cool with that.
Vormann invites LEGO builders from around the globe to participate in the project and send a photo to be added to the worldwide page. This is good, because my youngest son sent this video to me via email with the subject line: I have found my calling. Watch out, dispatchwork; your first repair from Hawaii is coming soon!