A journal by artist and designer John Coulthart.
Architecture
The deteriorated Gothic splendour of George Gilbert Scott’s railway hotel at St Pancras station, London, in a series of 360 degree views. The empty building looks distinctly creepy in many of these panoramas, like unused maps for a computer game.
Elsewhere on { feuilleton }
• The panoramas archive
Previously on { feuilleton }
• Adolph Sutro’s Gingerbread Palace
The Cliff House in a storm by Tsunekichi Imai (c. 1900).
The Cliff House Project has a wealth of information and ephemera about the late Victorian incarnation of the Cliff House restaurant in San Francisco. There were several Cliff Houses but the one built by Adolph Sutro in 1896 was the most spectacular, partly for the lack of other buildings around it but mostly for its typically Victorian take on a Gothic style which gave it the nickname “the Gingerbread Palace.”
I’d never seen this building before until comics writer Tom Veitch sent me a picture postcard of it in the early Nineties. Given its age I’d always assumed it must have been destroyed in the 1906 earthquake but it turns out that the building survived that disaster only to perish in a fire the year after. The Cliff House site has many wonderful photographs, nearly all of which convey the impression that the building was about to slide into the sea at any moment—or maybe set sail if the tide was up. There’s also a short piece of film from 1903 showing a slow pan around a throng of beach revellers which eventually comes to light on the house. Long-vanished buildings often possess an air of unreality in photographs; this one seems more unreal than most due to its unlikely appearance.
Update: Nephilim2038 reminds us that Blue Öyster Cult used Imai’s photograph of the Cliff House on the cover of their Imaginos album in 1988. This seems to have eluded my attention despite my having a CD-single from that album (although in truth I bought it for Don’t Fear The Reaper which was included as a bonus track).
Previously on { feuilleton }
• Passages 2
• Hungarian water towers
• Karel Plicka’s views of Prague
• Atget’s Paris
More monumental relics from the former Soviet Union. In March last year I posted some pictures from a film by Takehiko Nagakura who used CGI to show how St Petersburg would look if Vladimir Tatlin’s enormous Monument to the Third International had been built. Architectural megalomania didn’t abate with the collapse of that project and Stalin had his own plans for a number of vast buildings and monuments, including this colossal statue (or is it a building?) of Lenin intended to tower over Moscow.
These pictures come courtesy of Englishrussia.com. You can also see there a collection of (uncredited) pictures like the one above which follow Nagakura’s example and show how the Moscow of today would look had this structure been built. There’s also this strangely antique design for another vast Lenin memorial, which looks like Hugh Ferriss by way of ancient Egypt, and dizzying pictures from the top of the very large (62m tall) and very real ‘Mother Motherland’ monument in Kiev.
Previously on { feuilleton }
• Dead Monuments
• Enormous structures II: Tatlin’s Tower
Three views of the Ponte Sant’Angelo with St Peter’s basilica in the background and the Castel Sant’Angelo (Hadrian’s Mausoleum) to the right. All from this site, a very thorough guide to Rome’s historic buildings with different views through the ages to the present day. Dover Publications had a book available for a while (now out of print) showing Piranesi’s views of Rome beside photographs of the modern city. In a similar vein, there’s the fascinating Now and Then pool on Flickr, the same idea applied to different places (and people!) around the world.
Giuseppe Vasi.
Piranesi.
Luigi Rossini.
Elsewhere on { feuilleton }
• The etching and engraving archive
Previously on { feuilleton }
• The Cult of Antinous
Pages from Die Stadt (1925), a “novel in woodcuts” by anarchist artist Frans Masereel (1889–1972). See the other ninety-six pages here. And by the same artist, Die Idee.
A pacifist in World War I, he tried to make his art accessible to the ordinary man. His works were banned by the Nazis and widely distributed in Communist countries. But he rejected “political” art and party affiliation, condemning all enslavements, oppression, war and violence, injustice, and the power of money.
Elsewhere on { feuilleton }
• The etching and engraving archive