{architecture} – Page 91

Jefferson Hayman Camera Works

Named After Vermeer (2010); silver gelatin print.

Wessel + O’Connor Fine Art resumed business recently following a hiatus and a change of location. Their current exhibition is a presentation of prints by American photographer Jefferson Hayman whose use of silver gelatin and platinum processes returns photography to the diffuse atmospheres of its earliest days. Some of these works are barely distinguishable from their predecessors; in the case of the Flatiron view below (inevitably bringing to mind the famous picture by Edward Steichen) only the street light and traffic signals give any indication that it’s a recent photo. (Luther Gerlach has used an antique camera and old print processes to similar effect in Los Angeles.) Jefferson Hayman Camera Works runs to February 27th.

The Flatiron (2003); platinum print.

Previously on { feuilleton }
• The Flatiron Building
• Luther Gerlach’s Los Angeles
• Edward Steichen

Carel Struycken’s panoramas

The Bradbury Building by Carel Struycken.

An idle search for a panorama view of the interior of the Bradbury Building in Downtown Los Angeles fetched me up at my favourite panorama site 360Cities and this photo by Carel Struycken. Mr Struycken is better known as an actor whose great height has seen him cast as The Giant in the Twin Peaks TV series, and Lurch in the Addams Family films. 360Cities has a page of his panorama views most of which are taken in and around Los Angeles. The strangely ossified landscape around California’s Monolake is more familiar from this photo by Hipgnosis for Pink Floyd’s Wish You Were Here album.

Urban Light by Carel Struycken.

Monolake in Winter by Carel Struycken.

Elsewhere on { feuilleton }
• The panoramas archive

Previously on { feuilleton }
• Through the darkness of future pasts
• The Bradbury Building: Looking Backward from the Future

Athanasius Kircher’s Tower of Babel

Here’s a picture whose myriad details I’ve wanted to scrutinise for many years. Lieven Cruyl was the draughtsman and Coenraet Decker the etcher while the picture itself appears as an illustration in Athanasius Kircher’s (deep breath) Turris Babel, Sive Archontologia Qua Primo Priscorum post diluvium hominum vita, mores rerumque gestarum magnitudo, Secundo Turris fabrica civitatumque exstructio, confusio linguarum, & inde gentium transmigrationis, cum principalium inde enatorum idiomatum historia, multiplici eruditione describuntur & explicantur. The book was published in 1679 and, among other speculations, features Kircher’s eye-popping illustration (below) showing how tall the Tower of Babel would have to be in order to reach the Moon. I used part of the big illustration in a cover design for metal band Melechesh in 2006.

The copies here are from a scanned volume at the University of Heidelberg where the pages have suffered slightly from bookworm. But the resolution is high enough to explore a picture crawling with tiny details, from the bristling scaffolding at the top of the structure, and the houses (for the workers?) built on the ramps lower down, to a procession of camels and other beasts being led towards the main entrance. In the background there are smaller towers and a few pyramids (Kircher explored the latter elsewhere in the book), and also a harbour with beast-headed sailing ships. The full-size picture may be explored here.

Continue reading “Athanasius Kircher’s Tower of Babel”

The Flatiron Building

The Flatiron Building, Detroit Publishing Company (1903).

Beautiful Century posted this view of New York’s Flatiron Building at the weekend which had me looking for a larger copy. Happily this is one of the many high-resolution photos at the Shorpy Historical Archive where it’s possible to scrutinise a wealth of detail. Old photos like this are, as Michael Moorcock once said about old postcards, a form of time travel, especially when they’re as good as those in the Shorpy collection. The Flatiron was a popular subject for photographers—famously so in Edward Steichen’s 1904 nocturne—and Shorpy has many more examples such as the street-level view below. Both these photos show a common feature of pictures taken before the age of the motor car: people standing in the middle of the road. The Flatiron also has an oblique connection with Julian Biggs’ film via the mysterious origins of the phrase “23 skidoo“.

The Flatiron Building, Detroit Publishing Company (c. 1905).

Reinhart Wolf photographed many of New York’s skyscrapers in the late 1970s, the Flatiron included. I have a book of those photos and noticed in his Flatiron view that one of the circular decorations on the foremost angle of the building near the top is now missing (compare his view with the Shorpy photos). Every time I look at the Flatiron now I think of that missing chunk of masonry. Was it removed or did it fall? If the latter, when did this happen and what damage did it cause?

Previously on { feuilleton }
• Edward Steichen

23 Skidoo by Julian Biggs

An 8-minute film by Julian Biggs from 1964 (IMDB says 1965) which turns the streets of Montreal into post-apocalypse tableaux.

This short black-and-white film shows eerie scenes of a downtown without people. The effect is disturbing. The camera shoots familiar urban scenes, without a soul in sight: streets empty, buildings empty, yet everywhere there is evidence of recent life and activity. At the end of the film we learn what has happened.

Being a film funded by the National Film Board of Canada, the only place to see this would appear to be on their website. That would be fine if the streaming worked but every time I’ve tried using the latest iteration of their site the connection seizes up. Other viewers may have better luck.