I Could Live There
Want
The house and the car.
Yes, Please
I Could Live There
I Could Live There
Paging Edna Turnblad…
I Could Live There
I Could Live There
Mid-Century Realness
I'm pretty sure we had that same oven in the house we lived in when I was in grade school.
I Want This as My Back Yard
Yes Please.
Instarchitecture
A small collection of interesting images gleaned from Instagram…
Spacely Sprockets 2
1956. "General Motors Technical Center, Warren, Michigan. Design Center interior with stair in background. Eero Saarinen, architect."
Day 4: Crystal Bridges
After hearing praise from John, we knew we had one last stop to make before leaving Arkansas.
So, after bidding adieu to our little home away from home…
…and grabbing breakfast, we were on our way.
No, not there, although Ben did get a great cut from Robert.
I'm talking about Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art.
I mean seriously, who knew such a fabulous place would be found in rural northwestern Arkansas?
We met up with JP 'n Earl and were joined by Erik shortly after arriving, who took our picture…
Of course, while waiting I couldn't help myself but take a couple sneaky pics.
Several 18th and 19th century pieces caught my eye:
But I really liked the 20th century pieces…
I also got some shots of the man I love…
And someone tried to molest me…
I could've spent way more than the 2 or so hours we were there. We didn't even get to explore the grounds surrounding the museum; something I'd definitely like to do.
After saying our goodbyes and grabbing some lunch, we started our journey home.
More Mad Men!
Welcome to Spacely Sprockets!
Mad Men!
I Miss Being in the Design Profession
Yes, Please.
Friday
A Followup on the Last Post
Thanks to my Arizona cyber buddy Homer, I was able to acquire all the advertising goodness which follows. (The photos are mine.) Click on any image to embiggen…
First up, an article about and an ad for the photographically-reclusive Showcase of Homes:
This ad dates from the late 60s, about the same time that the Showcase of Homes opened:
The next four ads are all from the early 1960s. The first Hallcraft home we lived in was The Pinafore:
I always thought this was a cool plan, probably because it was a full two story house (rare for Phoenix in those days):
I can't tell you how thrilled I was to find this next one today. At one time I had a notebook that had nearly all of the single sheet floor plan and exterior rendering sheets for each model that the builder gave out (sadly, lost in a move in the late 80s along with several binders full of audio equipment brochures), but this was one floor plan that I never had in the collection and I'd always wondered how it was laid out:
This was probably my favorite plan of all time:
The Villas started out as a good idea, but now, thirty years later, without exception they're all ghetto and look like armed camps:
This was my family's second Hallcraft home, the one I lived in during my high school and college years:
Don'cha love the blatantly misogynistic advertising? (It was the 60s after all…) I also think it's funny how Hallcraft regurgitated this particular plan through several different incarnations over the years, finally abandoning it in the early 70s:
Yes, Please
One Of The Most Bizarre Houses…
…I ever designed.
It was literally a "dream" house, a residence that popped up in a dream sometime in 1999 and so obsessed me for the next few days that I had to commit it to paper (or at least bytes). In the dream it was built on the east side of Twin Peaks in San Francisco, facing downtown.
You entered at street level. Living, dining, and kitchen were all on this level:
On the upper floor was a guest room and sitting area open to the living/dining area below. Not very practical, I know, but it has the advantage of not letting guests get too comfortable:
Downstairs was the master bedroom that I chose to call the "retreat." The bed fit in the area between the deck and the low bookcase running between the two support columns. Since there are no other bedrooms, this house was obviously designed for a single person or couple.
There wasn't much to the exterior; a simple stucco finish that relied more on the masses of the house than decoration to make a statement:
I showed these to my boss at the time and she was blown away that I'd do this "just for fun." I miss those guys. Too bad the company crashed and burned…
Yes, Please
Yes, Please
Beautiful
This is what I envision of when I think "21st Century Desert House," and it really makes me regret having left the architectural field fifteen years ago. From the firm ibarra rosano design architects of Tucson. We'd move back to AZ in a heartbeat if this were waiting for us. Absolutely stunning. (Click on any of the images to embiggen.)
Be sure and check out all their other work!
I Can Haz Here Lives?
Beautiful
I could so live here, but it would drive Ben nuts from the lack of color…
Squee!
I was raised in a very design-oriented family. My dad worked as an architect before his retirement, and my mom was an interior designer, so I've always had a bit of an an eye for design.
I had hoped to follow in my dad's footsteps and become an architect, but for a variety of reasons college and I just didn't work out and I never got my degree. I regret it a bit, but it's all water under the bridge at this point.
My failure to get an architectural degree did not, however, prevent me from getting into the business. Before I quit to go into a career of babysitting PC tech support, I had worked as an architectural drafter for about seventeen years. Even today there are still times when I sorely miss it and question my wisdom having given it up. When I was producing architectural drawings, I always felt like I'd accomplished something at the end of the day. And when the things I drew were actually built…it was a tremendous source of personal pride and satisfaction.
During my junior year of high school I was perusing one of my dad's architectural magazines, and I ran across a spread documenting a new development on the Chicago shoreline called Harbor Point.
I was in love.
This was my high school vision of the future, what living in the 21st century would be like.
Somehow in those pre-internet days, I managed to locate the address for the sales office and wrote to request more information. They sent me a beautiful portfolio that included an overall building floor plan, prices, and brochures for each of the individual units. As I recall the units ranged in price from $50-$70K (a lot for those days). Unfortunately, everything except the overall floor plan was thrown out in one of my various purges. How it managed to survive all these years speaks volumes about the persistence of youthful dreams, I suppose.
Back in the day, I often dreamt of owning one of the units with the curving glass windows, overlooking the cityscape far below, lights dimmed low and jazz softly playing in the background. (I seem to recall George Benson's Breezin' being the soundtrack at that time.)
It's still a beautiful building in my opinion, and with the advent of the internet finding pictures of it was fairly easy. But it wasn't until the other day that on a whim I actually found pictures of what the interiors looked like. Squee! Apparently there are a quite a few units available for sale. Despite the rather dated luminous ceilings in the kitchens, it would appear they've aged fairly well.
These units so fired my imagination that several years after receiving the floor plans I designed a house around one of the curving-window units. The layout was pill shaped, raised one floor off the ground (to provide garage space) with a central atrium that I envisioned being open to a huge skylight above. The hand drawn paper architectural floor plan is one of very few out the dozens of dream houses I designed over the years that's survived.
If I ever won the lottery, I'd snatch one of those bitches up in a heartbeat (most are selling for well under $500K), even if it meant only living there part time. (I can barely tolerate a Denver winter. Can you imagine me in Chicago?!? Me neither.)