final jury.

the wrong way: wearing your new shirt while inking your entire final project. Ink wells tip and spill.

the Wright way: roll up your sleeves

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Jury is at 2:30pm; all boards pinned up and ready-to-go by 2. It's been stressful and confusing, but we made it to today! And I literally just stumbled onto a firm's website that could've made an excellent precedent....

They're worth checking out. SAOTA is the acronym for the firm. They have a very flashy website with an abundance of projects, conceptual and built.

http://saotablog.blogspot.com/

http://www.saota.com/

palm sunday.

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Palm Sunday at St. Peter's Basilica. Olive branches, palm leaves, and children running around hitting each other with blessed branches of various Roman flora surrounded Corin, Marisa, Steve, Billy and me for the three hour mass.

Three cantors sang the entire passion, one dropping out towards the end as his voice couldn't withstand. The entire mass was in Italian and Latin. English, Turkish, French, German, and a few other languages were thrown in there, too. After being into the mass for awhile, I looked back behind me. I didn't even realize how close to the altar we were; how many people had come out for this.

Because the mass was so long, my internal translator shut down halfway through the mass, and I focused on space I was in. My thoughts began transitioning to my current project, the facade transformation. Studio was something I had planned later for that day, but our consistency in design critique has made me fluent in the language, and I began translating the facade of St. Peter's into a "tartan grid" strategy that we've been using recently.

I have an appreciation for modern and fascist architecture, don't get me wrong, but I don't think there's very much I'd change about the Basilica. It's too classic; transforming it would be a shame. I'm glad I'm working with a virtually nameless building for my studio project.

vino for alan.

the wrong way: forget your umbrella when the forecast says 'RAIN.'

the Wright way: bring your sunglasses just in case the unpredictable Roman weather takes a turn for the better! It's hard keeping prepared around here.

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Tonight, the gang of us went down the street from our studio to educate ourselves on the topic of wine tasting. I'm sure the intricacies and formality involved left an impression on some of us [and I don't mean grape-juice stains].

We were all excited to read "Wine tasting: 17pm" on our schedules this week, especially in the midst of the facade transformation project we've been trying to tackle. It was a nice breath from studio, even though I'm sure I'm on the brink of a break-through.

Massimo was our guide to our grand sophistication outtake. Although slight in his English, he proved to be a wonderful guide to the unusual world of wines. He also didn't comment when some of us devoured the slices of bread, meant to be used to cleanse the pallet between tastings. So polite.

Wine color, alcoholic content, carbon dioxide, fermentation practices, regions and their effects on the wine, historical importance, and regional preferences were all explained. My favorite part was the explanation of the four common colors of wine [from Ruby to Orange] which you could compare by observing its candlelit reflection on a wine napkin. Then, noting your finger through the wine, you could test its clarity.

In my opinion, the third glass we tried was wonderful. It was a bit heavy, but was fermented in oak so it bore woody tones. It was also tonic, but had good legs- not too watery, and not too alcoholic. Don't tell Alan, but I got him a nice bottle. He's got good legs, too ;D

I love how Italians hold tradition as such a priority. It seems that many Europeans act the same way, from Festivals to daily habits. They mind their wineries as seriously as New Yorkers coddle their stocks. Massimo doesn't keep his wine out on the floor. Instead he displays many empty bottles and has conversations about the wines his customers are interested in. All of his wines are kept bottled in a temperature-controlled cellar below ground, and are upside-down so the liquid touches the cork. Apparently this is important.

I know of some families in the States who keep traditions up, though. My family makes Irish Soda Bread every St. Patty's.

America needs more Irish Soda Bread.

a land as i.

the wrong way: drink the water.

the Wright way: don't complain. You were stupid.

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On Friday we returned from our trip to the Southern regions of Italy. Each place we visited had its own feeling and identity. Napoli was the first city we hit, and immediately I heard the difference between the dialect of the North and South.

I met a friend there named Antony who smoked three camel lights as I sketched sections of two palazzi. He would not stop talking-- with his hands and all [I managed to get all the ash off my pages]. I suppose I would pour my heart out too if someone didn't understand a word I was saying and sat as politely.

We also visited Casa Malaparte, up in the cliffs of Capri. It was about a 40-minute hike across non-regulation stairways and winding cliff paths to reach the area from the main town. The house's keeper, Malaparte's nephew, travels that path just about every day to get to town. For us, it was a bit of a struggle, but we were driven. We spent about three hours sketching, talking about the house, and exploring.

Malaparte was not an architect, in fact he was a writer, but he had a lot of concepts he wanted to incorporate into his design. His concepts had to do with things that he possessed, that he did, or that played an important role in his life. A slave to cell 461, he carried his memory of imprisonment with him as he built his house on those jagged cliffs. His realization of the inability to attain freedom after being released was a crucial epiphany which helped spark the drive to build. He yearned for isolation, yet at the same time felt free, as a performer on a stage. These battling qualities of character were realized, as the architectural self-portrait of Malaparte was constructed on those cliffs.

One of the greatest aspects of the house is how the views are framed. From the outside, the fenestration may seem a tad random or strange, but keep in mind that this house was built from the inside-out. All considerations began from the prisoner's point of view. Each window view on the interior frames a beautiful scene.

The scenes are not just of beauty, but of types of beauty. Making your way down through, you notice that the rooms on the left are built of wood, with views emphasizing the flora of the cliffs and the trees spilling over the sides of the house, lightly protecting it from the elements.

The spaces on the right highlight the element of rock and stone, and the views follow in the same manner.

There is a white fin

that curves on the roof of the house, something CUA has used as a make-shift projection screen for summer lectures. As you walk towards the fin, it grows bigger and cuts off everything from view but the sky and the tops of the cliffs. Standing in a certain location on the roof, you feel like a prisoner to the natural world.

Temple of Apollo ruins

Pompeii/bath complex

roman invasion.

the wrong way: don't wear sunscreen.

the Wright solution: prevent blistering, downsize the peeling and heat, and help your sun poisoning heal faster by soaking yourself in cold tea.

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Well I haven't seen any Visigoths around, but there is in invasion that seems to continue in Rome even now; not by a German barbarian, but by a Frenchie perfectionist.

A street artist known as "Invader" has struck again, this time in Campo Di'Fiori. Invader conquers the urban landscape with his trademark tiles. He has "invaded" many European cities, France being the first to lose its pixel-virginity. This nonsense all began in 1990.

I first noticed his mosaics the first day we got here, and assumed that they were colorful markers of certain streets. After passing a few more, it became apparent that they didn't include street names; they were some kind of local artist's work. Ironically, as time has passed, I've started using them as landmarks.

All compositions are meticulously aligned and positioned in such a way as to be out of reach to those who have intentions of damaging the art, yet within easy view. These little touches are what made them stand out to me [and the colors, and the invader game, and the contrast, and the nostalgia...]. The city seems to positively respond to these invaders. They're very different than superficial vandalism, they have become a small, quirky element of the city's fabric.

The artist has a specific criteria for the placement of the images around cities, too. They're never randomly placed, but have "rules" set up for each individual city. Invader also keeps track of every single work and maps them out. I've heard he's published a book, too.

For example, Montpellier has been decoded: all the mosaics were installed so that, if placed on a map, the locations together form a giant invader character. Talk about keeping the larger context in mind during the design process.

The colorful mosaics Invader installs are made up of tiny squares forming a pixelated image of a little "invader" as influenced by the Space Invaders game. If you don't know what that is, it's a rad game from the 70's [there's a free Blackberry app available].

Since the game has such low graphics, the technique of using mosaic tiles to represent the pixels was clever.

Unlike a lot of urban artists, Invader has a face. He's had solo art exhibitions in many large cities, and shares my love of grids, pixels, squares, and colorful perfect forms; apparent in his studies of the Rubix Cube. I'd love to see one of his exhibitions one day. Steph Cervantes shares my fascination with this street artist.

More about urban artist 'Space Invader'

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A few CUArch went to the beach yesterday, and one of them forgot his sunscreen. It was so bad that we were able to find Justin's skin tone on Sally Hansen's interactive nailpolish color selector. his shade was "Cheerful Crimson."

Since I'm so susceptible to burning, I have a few strategies for dealing with sunburn as bad as this. It sounds strange, but if you soak your skin in cold tea, the tea will absorb the heat from your skin and help it to repair itself faster.

How:

Brew a bowl of Earl Grey or Breakfast Tea, [Lipton is fine, just TEA.] let it cool down in the fridge or on a table, and start soaking paper towels in it. Then lay the cool wet towels on the burnt areas of your body, changing them when they heat up or go dry.

I've had to do this a few times, once I even finished Gone With the Wind in the process. You'll have to soak yourself for awhile, but if it prevents the puffiness and blisters from forming, then 'Frankly, woman, I don't give a damn.'