It's called "Bilbode."
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Monday, December 29, 2008
Whisk Whisk Whisk Whisk
...a taste of Ian's Christmas laughter, as he is enchanted by culinary tools and their associated names
Doggedly exploring
Elaine, Doug, and Ian left on Friday for Long Island, and are gone through New Years Eve, so I am here in charge of the dogs. I have been trying to provide them with long and enjoyable walks; 45 minutes of feeling wild again. Of course, this has the potential to be tedious because there are two of them, and I find it best to take them separately.
To make it enjoyable for both man and beast, I have been selecting our routes to cover as much new ground as possible. Because the area is so diverse, it's been really interesting to explore the neighborhoods. Within a mile radius of our abode, there are huge houses, tiny houses, projects, signs in english, signs in spanish, signs in graffiti, public schools, montessori magnet schools, black people, white people, litter from fast food, and litter from organic food. It provides residential areas with an interesting skyline to have such a mixture. I almost feel as though I could buy an empty lot and build a cob cottage without it being too out of place.
In any case, one of my favorite finds was the gem below, tucked cozily behind a street of mundane brick projects. I love the shapes and colors: the cut-out profile of the porch with chamfered corners; the orange frames of the first-floor windows balancing the orange door - so often you see a bright door all alone and it's with good intention, but poor result because it's got no other elements to vibe with; the stained wood sheathing; the shape of the second story windows; the gently chopped-off ridgeline.
The Prius is just icing on the cake.
To make it enjoyable for both man and beast, I have been selecting our routes to cover as much new ground as possible. Because the area is so diverse, it's been really interesting to explore the neighborhoods. Within a mile radius of our abode, there are huge houses, tiny houses, projects, signs in english, signs in spanish, signs in graffiti, public schools, montessori magnet schools, black people, white people, litter from fast food, and litter from organic food. It provides residential areas with an interesting skyline to have such a mixture. I almost feel as though I could buy an empty lot and build a cob cottage without it being too out of place.
In any case, one of my favorite finds was the gem below, tucked cozily behind a street of mundane brick projects. I love the shapes and colors: the cut-out profile of the porch with chamfered corners; the orange frames of the first-floor windows balancing the orange door - so often you see a bright door all alone and it's with good intention, but poor result because it's got no other elements to vibe with; the stained wood sheathing; the shape of the second story windows; the gently chopped-off ridgeline.
The Prius is just icing on the cake.
ECG
On my Tobacco Trail stroll (previous post), I stopped at a trail-side kiosk and, to my disbelief, read something interesting.
It appears as though the Tobacco Trail and other "greenways" (traffic-free paths for pedestrians and cyclists) that I've found sprinkled across North Carolina do not stand alone as separate entities. They are all part of a plan. A mighty plan designed to link the whole of the East Coast through shared green-ness. A traffic-free trail from Calais, Maine to Key West, Florida. An Appalachian Trail for rollerbladers, as it may be.
The project is right now only 20% complete. The remaining 4/5ths is mapped out, but on interim roads, rather than designated paths.
It's a really great idea. The route is mapped out state-by-state using GoogleMaps, with a link from the ECG website. Below is the New York section (if you visit the link you'll find a key to decode the color-coding).
Of course, the completion of the project depends on how quickly the group can raise money.
It appears as though the Tobacco Trail and other "greenways" (traffic-free paths for pedestrians and cyclists) that I've found sprinkled across North Carolina do not stand alone as separate entities. They are all part of a plan. A mighty plan designed to link the whole of the East Coast through shared green-ness. A traffic-free trail from Calais, Maine to Key West, Florida. An Appalachian Trail for rollerbladers, as it may be.
The project is right now only 20% complete. The remaining 4/5ths is mapped out, but on interim roads, rather than designated paths.
It's a really great idea. The route is mapped out state-by-state using GoogleMaps, with a link from the ECG website. Below is the New York section (if you visit the link you'll find a key to decode the color-coding).
Of course, the completion of the project depends on how quickly the group can raise money.
Tobacco Trail
One of the selling points for the Trinity Lofts (our new home) was the number of interesting places within walking distance. One of the advertised places to go was the Tobacco Trail, which begins right across the street and under the railway bridge. So today, for little Lilo's daily walk, we explored a mile or so of the trail.
What exactly is it about a draped matrix of electrical wires that has a strong draw for amateur photographers?
Below is the intersection through which Durham's driving instructors delight most in taking 14-year-old kids on their nerve-racking driving test.
There is a particular kind of tree lining the streets here that is just incredible. so big and thick-limbed and bowl-shaped. I'm not yet sure what species it is, but they look like pretty old friends.
It seems like each and every one of these trees is just begging to hold a treehouse. Granted, this is partially because the middles are chopped out to allow for telephone wire to run through, but think of this as a utility feature. If we pretend that there aren't already enough blue sky solutions to the homeless problem, I propose that the city builds treehouses in the sidewalk trees, and then hooks them up conveniently and directly to the electrical lines. Each residency could have one light, and one burner for cooking. It reminds me a bit of the Madison Square Park art installation by Tadashi Kawamata:
What exactly is it about a draped matrix of electrical wires that has a strong draw for amateur photographers?Below is the intersection through which Durham's driving instructors delight most in taking 14-year-old kids on their nerve-racking driving test.
There is a particular kind of tree lining the streets here that is just incredible. so big and thick-limbed and bowl-shaped. I'm not yet sure what species it is, but they look like pretty old friends.
It seems like each and every one of these trees is just begging to hold a treehouse. Granted, this is partially because the middles are chopped out to allow for telephone wire to run through, but think of this as a utility feature. If we pretend that there aren't already enough blue sky solutions to the homeless problem, I propose that the city builds treehouses in the sidewalk trees, and then hooks them up conveniently and directly to the electrical lines. Each residency could have one light, and one burner for cooking. It reminds me a bit of the Madison Square Park art installation by Tadashi Kawamata:
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Peasants and Farmers
In anticipation of starting a cob building project next week, and eventually running a cob workshop in which innocent people will come help build and pay money for me to teach them the basics, I decided it would be smart to read up on the bible of cob building: The Hand-Sculpted House: A Practical and Philosophical Guide to Building a Cob Cottage (by Ianto Evans, Michael Smith, and Linda Smiley).
I'm not sure whether I forgot how good of a read it is, or whether perhaps I never understood its genius because the time when I originally read it (May) was before the point when I first touched cob and came to understand it. Either way, I highly recommend it to anyone interested in questioning why things are the way they are.
In Ianto's philosophical introduction, I am particularly drawn to these 3 paragraphs, inspired by a talk given by Chilean Ana Stern.
"Peasants, [Ana Stern] said, satisfy their own basic needs: they grow their food, build the houses they live in, often make their own clothes. Most peasants collect medicinal herbs, treat medical emergencies, supply their family entertainment. They experience fully what they do every day; they have time - they feel joy. Their culture is integral and makes sense. Farmers, by contrast, grow things to sell. With what they earn from their products, they buy their groceries, building materials, clothes, entertainment, and medical insurance. They must also buy into a system which demands that they drive to market, pay taxes, perhaps send their kids to agricultural college. Increasingly they must buy machinery, seeds, farm chemicals. Farmers have no time to directly enjoy satisfying their own needs, so they purchase their satisfactions; they buy ready-made clothing and 'convenience' foods.
I've thought a lot about Ana's presentation. Her definition shook my worldview. In her terms we are all farmers - there are few peasants in the USA. I'd always felt comfortable in the traditional villages of Africa and Latin America, and now I understood why. The parts of my own life that I truly enjoy are the peasant parts, the parts I don't pay for, the parts that I create myself. A life of working for someone else and paying for basic needs is essentially unsatisfying. Why? Because our links to Nature are severed when we live that way...
To be complete we need to have a constant awareness of our cosmic bearings, where and when we fit into nature's patterns. If you compost your excrement as the Chinese do, use your own urine for fertilized, and grow your own vegetable seeds on the plants you raise, the cycle is complete. You have inserted yourself into a completely visible ring of cause and effect. You experience the whole natural process, and the better you observe how that process works, the easier you slide into it."
___
A lot of text, I realize. And I don't think much importance need be placed on the labels of "peasant" and "farmer." What's important to me is thinking about how tied into different systems we are, and how dependent many people are on actions that do not contribute directly to their happiness and/or survival.
Anyhow, there's a lot more where that came from (including a lot of practical building ideas). Pick it up for a good read.
I'm not sure whether I forgot how good of a read it is, or whether perhaps I never understood its genius because the time when I originally read it (May) was before the point when I first touched cob and came to understand it. Either way, I highly recommend it to anyone interested in questioning why things are the way they are.
In Ianto's philosophical introduction, I am particularly drawn to these 3 paragraphs, inspired by a talk given by Chilean Ana Stern.
"Peasants, [Ana Stern] said, satisfy their own basic needs: they grow their food, build the houses they live in, often make their own clothes. Most peasants collect medicinal herbs, treat medical emergencies, supply their family entertainment. They experience fully what they do every day; they have time - they feel joy. Their culture is integral and makes sense. Farmers, by contrast, grow things to sell. With what they earn from their products, they buy their groceries, building materials, clothes, entertainment, and medical insurance. They must also buy into a system which demands that they drive to market, pay taxes, perhaps send their kids to agricultural college. Increasingly they must buy machinery, seeds, farm chemicals. Farmers have no time to directly enjoy satisfying their own needs, so they purchase their satisfactions; they buy ready-made clothing and 'convenience' foods.
I've thought a lot about Ana's presentation. Her definition shook my worldview. In her terms we are all farmers - there are few peasants in the USA. I'd always felt comfortable in the traditional villages of Africa and Latin America, and now I understood why. The parts of my own life that I truly enjoy are the peasant parts, the parts I don't pay for, the parts that I create myself. A life of working for someone else and paying for basic needs is essentially unsatisfying. Why? Because our links to Nature are severed when we live that way...
To be complete we need to have a constant awareness of our cosmic bearings, where and when we fit into nature's patterns. If you compost your excrement as the Chinese do, use your own urine for fertilized, and grow your own vegetable seeds on the plants you raise, the cycle is complete. You have inserted yourself into a completely visible ring of cause and effect. You experience the whole natural process, and the better you observe how that process works, the easier you slide into it."
___
A lot of text, I realize. And I don't think much importance need be placed on the labels of "peasant" and "farmer." What's important to me is thinking about how tied into different systems we are, and how dependent many people are on actions that do not contribute directly to their happiness and/or survival.
Anyhow, there's a lot more where that came from (including a lot of practical building ideas). Pick it up for a good read.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
my calling
My dad sent me this 1995 first-day-of-school photo, giving special mention to the inspiring phrase on my t-shirt. I'm the tall guy in the middle with the earthy-toned backpack straps; to my right is Stumpy, and to my left Mr. Jamie Teska, a die-hard dolphins aficionado.born to build
Here's another old family photo, taken in Jamestown, VA. I really like that building.
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