The first built project and final creative work of artist and architect Lebbeus Woods (1940-2012), the Light Pavilion is transcendent architecture, a project that exemplifies the preoccupations of a consummate draftsman, thinker, and educator. Filled with drawings, detail specifications, and construction documentation, this book also features breathtaking photography by Iwan Baan; commentary by Zaha Hadid, Steven Holl, Thom Mayne, Neil Denari, and Eric Owen Moss; historical analysis by Mark Morris; and a touching epilogue by friend and project collaborator Christoph a. Kumpusch. A visionary design made intensely real, the pavilion offers a glimpse of the future as well as a catalogue of architecture's past.
An investigation of different uses for the architectural model through history—as sign, souvenir, funerary object, didactic tool, medium for design, and architect's muse. For more than five hundred years, architects have employed three-dimensional models as tools to test, refine, and illustrate their ideas. But, as Matthew Mindrup shows, the uses of physical architectural models extend beyond mere representation. An architectural model can also simulate, instruct, inspire, and generate architectural designs. It can be, among other things, sign, souvenir, toy, funerary object, didactic tool, medium, or muse. In this book, Mindrup surveys the history of architectural models by investigating their uses, both theoretical and practical. Tracing the architectural model's development from antiquity to the present, Mindrup also offers an interpretive framework for understanding each of its applications in the context of time and place. He first examines models meant to portray extant, fantastic, or proposed structures, describing their use in ancient funerary or dedicatory practices, in which models are endowed with magical power; as a medium for architectural reverie and inspiration; and as prototypes for twentieth-century experimental designs. Mindrup then considers models that exemplify certain architectural uses, exploring the influence of Leon Battista Alberti's dictum that models be simple, lest they distract from the architect's ideas; analyzing the model as a generative tool; and investigating allegorical, analogical, and anagogical interpretations of models. Mindrup's histories show how the model can be a surrogate for the architectural structure itself, or for the experience of its formal, tactile, and sensory complexity; and beyond that, that the manipulation, play, experimentation, and dreaming enabled by models allow us to imagine architecture in new ways.
War and Architecture is a timely and moving response by architect Lebbeus Woods to the bombing of Sarajevo. With text in both English and Croatian, accompanied by the author's exquisitely drawn, hauntingly beautiful proposals, the book is both dedicated and addressed to the citizens of this ravaged city. Lebbeus Woods has long been fascinated by the intimate ties between architecture and violence. He identifies the two predominant patterns for rebuilding cities following catastrophic destruction: restoring the city exactly to its previous, "historical" state; or "erasing" the remains of the city to construct a new utopia. These, he argues, are twin forms of denial. Woods draws an analogy to the process of biological and emotional healing, presenting architectural forms that act as "injections," "scabs," "scars," and "new tissue," within the complex organism of a city. "Only by facing the insanity of willful destruction," he argues, "can reason begin to believe again in itself."
Lebbeus Woods, Architect brings together drawings from the past 40 years by one of the most influential designers working in architecture. Beyond architects, Woods (1940-2012) has been hailed by designers, filmmakers, writers and artists as a significant voice in recent history; his works resonate across many disciplines for their conceptual depth, imaginative breadth and ethical potency. Woods worked cyclically, returning often to themes of architecture's ability to transform, resist and free the collective and the individual. As an architect whose work lies almost solely in the realm of the proposed and the unbuilt, his contributions to the field opened up new avenues for exploring and inscribing space. The publication centers on transformation as a recurring theme. The organization of the images of works is thematic rather than chronological.
In content and format the book reflects such juxtaposition, featuring images and graphic documentation of Steven Holl's recent works realized in China alongside critiques and analyses by a new generation of theorists.
In the fall of 2007, Lebbeus Woods (1940–2012), long admired for his visionary architecture and mastery of drawing, began a blog. Part forum and part public journal, the eclectic mix of articles, drawings, anecdotes, poetry, interviews, and photographic essays explored topics ranging from architectural theory and criticism to education and politics. Amassing more than three hundred entries by its end in the summer of 2012, it is regarded by many as the most comprehensive and accessible archive of Woods's prodigious creativity. Slow Manifesto: Lebbeus Woods Blog, an edited volume of the blog's centerpiece entries, stands as a fragmentary essay on the nature of architecture that will be dear to architects, students, and thinkers everywhere.
Building Books gives insight into the process of creating a book. In seven thematic fields the author lays out the premises of his activity as a designer and publisher: vision, context, process, protest, object, duration, effect. The reference to the process of building and the parallels to architecture is in keeping with Lars Müller’s conviction that a book design emerges from an understanding of its content. The author describes the principles of his activity, settles accounts, takes stock after twenty-five years of Lars Müller Publishers, looks into the future, and speculates about the book’s chances in competition with rapid digital media.
Picture your 21st birthday. Did you have a party? If so, do you remember who was there? How clear are these memories? Should we trust them? Such questions have fascinated scientists for hundreds of years, and, as Alison Winter shows in this book, the answers have changed dramatically in just the past century.
In this book, Lori Brown examines the relationship between space, defined physically, legally and legislatively, and how these factors directly impact the spaces of abortion. It analyzes how various political entities shape the physical landscapes of inclusion and exclusion to reproductive healthcare access, and questions what architecture's responsibilities are in respect to this spatial conflict. Employing writing, drawing and mapping methodologies, this interdisciplinary project explores restrictions and legislatures which directly influence abortion policy in the US, Mexico and Canada. It questions how these legal rulings produce spatial complexities and why architecture isn't more culturally and spatially engaged with these spaces. In Mexico, where abortion is fully legal only in Mexico City during the first trimester, women must travel vast distances and undergo extreme conditions in order to access the procedure. Conservative state governments continue to make abortion a severely punishable crime. In Canada, there are nowhere near the cultural and religious stigmas to abortion as in the US and Mexico. Completely legal and without restrictions, Canada offers an important contrast to the ongoing abortion issues within the US and Mexico. Researching the spatial implications of such a politicized space, this book expands beyond a study of abortion clinic and includes other spaces such as women's shelters and hospitals that require multiple levels of secured spaces in order to discuss the spatial ramifications of access and security within spaces that are highly personal, private, and sometimes secret or even hidden. In questioning what architecture's responsibility is in these spatial conflicts, the book looks at how what architecture 'does' can be used to reconsider the spaces and security around such contested places, and ultimately suggests what design's potential impact might be. In doing so, it shows how architecture's role might be redefined within social and spatial practices.
