The Class Creatives team recently shared this detailed Behind the Scenes post on the Blender Artists forum. I thought it was an interesting enough read to republish it here. We have been working on project Acheron for a few years, and we wanted to sh

If he’s anything like us [Duncan Hall] was probably equal parts excited and disgusted when he found a 1987 Macintosh SE case at a garage sale. Excited, because not every …read more

Last year, MACK Books published Architecture from Below, which anthologized writings by the French Brazilian architect, theorist, and painter Sérgio Ferro. (Douglas Spencer reviewed it for AN.) Now, MACK follows with Design and the Building Site and Complementary Essays, the second in the trilogy of books dedicated to Ferro’s scholarship. The following excerpt of the author’s 2023 preface to the English edition, which preserves its British phrasing, captures Ferro’s realization about the working conditions of construction sites in Brasília. The sentiment is likely relatable even today for young architects as they discover how drawings become buildings. Design and the Building Site and Complementary Essays will be released on May 22. If I remember correctly, it was in 1958 or 1959, when Rodrigo and I were second- or third year architecture students at FAUUSP, that my father, the real estate developer Armando Simone Pereira, commissioned us to design two large office buildings and eleven shops in Brasilia, which was then under construction. Of course, we were not adequately prepared for such an undertaking. Fortunately, Oscar Niemeyer and his team, who were responsible for overseeing the construction of the capital, had drawn up a detailed document determining the essential characteristics of all the private sector buildings. We followed these prescriptions to the letter, which saved us from disaster. Nowadays, it is hard to imagine the degree to which the construction of Brasilia inspired enthusiasm and professional pride in the country’s architects. And in the national imagination, the city’s establishment in the supposedly unpopulated hinterland evoked a re-founding of Brazil. Up until that point, the occupation of our immense territory had been reduced to a collection of arborescent communication routes, generally converging upon some river, following it up to the Atlantic Ocean. Through its ports, agricultural or extractive commodities produced by enslaved peoples or their substitutes passed towards the metropolises; goods were exchanged in the metropolises for more elaborate products, which took the opposite route. Our national identity was summed up in a few symbols, such as the anthem or the flag, and this scattering of paths pointing overseas. Brasilia would radically change this situation, or so we believed. It would create a central hub where the internal communication routes could converge, linking together hithertoseparate junctions, stimulating trade and economic progress in the country’s interior. It was as if, for the first time, we were taking care of ourselves. At the nucleus of this centripetal movement, architecture would embody the renaissance. And at the naval of the nucleus, the symbolic mandala of this utopia: the cathedral. Rodrigo and I got caught up in the euphoria. And perhaps more so than our colleagues, because we were taking part in the adventure with ‘our’ designs. The reality was very different — but we did not know that yet. At that time, architects in Brazil were responsible for verifying that the construction was in line with the design. We had already monitored some of our first building sites. But the construction company in charge of them, Osmar Souza e Silva’s CENPLA, specialized in the building sites of modernist architects from the so-called Escola Paulista led by Vilanova Artigas (which we aspired to be a part of, like the pretentious students we were). Osmar was very attentive to his clients and his workers, who formed a supportive and helpful team. He was even more careful with us, because he knew how inexperienced we were. I believe that the CENPLA was particularly important in São Paulo modernism: with its congeniality, it facilitated experimentation, but for the same reason, it deceived novices like us about the reality of other building sites. Consequently, Rodrigo and I travelled to Brasilia several times to check that the constructions followed ‘our’ designs and to resolve any issues. From the very first trip, our little bubble burst. Our building sites, like all the others in the future capital, bore no relation to Osmar’s. They were more like a branch of hell. A huge, muddy wasteland, in which a few cranes, pile drivers, tractors, and excavators dotted the mound of scaffolding occupied by thousands of skinny, seemingly exhausted wretches, who were nevertheless driven on by the shouts of master builders and foremen, in turn pressured by the imminence of the fateful inauguration date. Surrounding or huddled underneath the marquees of buildings under construction, entire families, equally skeletal and ragged, were waiting for some accident or death to open up a vacancy. In contact only with the master builders, and under close surveillance so we would not speak to the workers, we were not allowed to see what comrades who had worked on these sites later told us in prison: suicide abounded; escape was known to be futile in the unpopulated surroundings with no viable roads; fatal accidents were often caused by weakness due to chronic diarrhoea, brought on by rotten food that came from far away; outright theft took place in the calculation of wages and expenses in the contractor’s grocery store; camps were surrounded by law enforcement. I repeat this anecdote yet again not to invoke the benevolence of potential readers, but rather to point out the conditions that, in my opinion, allowed two students (Flávio Império joined us a little later) still in their professional infancy to quickly adopt positions that were contrary to the usual stance of architects. As the project was more Oscar Niemeyer’s than it was our own, we did not have the same emotional attachment that is understandably engendered between real authors and their designs. We had not yet been imbued with the charm and aura of the métier. And the only building sites we had visited thus far, Osmar’s, were incomparable to those we discovered in Brasilia. In short, our youthfulness and unpreparedness up against an unbearable situation made us react almost immediately to the profession’s satisfied doxa. Unprepared and young perhaps, but already with Marx by our side. Rodrigo and I joined the student cell of the Brazilian Communist Party during our first year at university. In itself, this did not help us much: the Party’s Marxism, revised in the interests of the USSR, was pitiful. Even high-level leaders rarely went beyond the first chapter of Capital. But at the end of the 1950s, the effervescence of the years to come was already nascent:  […] this extraordinary revival […] the rediscovery of Marxism and the great dialectical texts and traditions in the 1960s: an excitement that identifies a forgotten or repressed moment of the past as the new and subversive, and learns the dialectical grammar of a Hegel or an Adorno, a Marx or a Lukács, like a foreign language that has resources unavailable in our own. And what is more: the Chinese and Cuban revolutions, the war in Vietnam, guerrilla warfare of all kinds, national liberation movements, and a rare libertarian disposition in contemporary history, totally averse to fanaticism and respect for ideological apparatuses of (any) state or institution. Going against the grain was almost the norm. We were of course no more than contemporaries of our time. We were soon able to position ourselves from chapters 13, 14, and 15 of Capital, but only because we could constantly cross-reference Marx with our observations from well-contrasted building sites and do our own experimenting. As soon as we identified construction as manufacture, for example, thanks to the willingness and even encouragement of two friends and clients, Boris Fausto and Bernardo Issler, I was able to test both types of manufacture — organic and heterogeneous — on similar-sized projects taking place simultaneously, in order to find out which would be most convenient for the situation in Brazil, particularly in São Paulo. Despite the scientific shortcomings of these tests, they sufficed for us to select organic manufacture. Arquitetura Nova had defined its line of practice, studies, and research. There were other sources that were central to our theory and practice. Flávio Império was one of the founders of the Teatro de Arena, undoubtedly the vanguard of popular, militant theatre in Brazil. He won practically every set design award. He brought us his marvelous findings in spatial condensation and malleability, and in the creative diversion of techniques and material—appropriate devices for an underdeveloped country. This is what helped us pave the way to reformulating the reigning design paradigms.  We had to do what Flávio had done in the theatre: thoroughly rethink how to be an architect. Upend the perspective. The way we were taught was to start from a desired result; then others would take care of getting there, no matter how. We, on the other hand, set out to go down to the building site and accompany those carrying out the labor itself, those who actually build, the formally subsumed workers in manufacture who are increasingly deprived of the knowledge and know-how presupposed by this kind of subsumption. We should have been fostering the reconstitution of this knowledge and know-how—not so as to fulfil this assumption, but in order to reinvigorate the other side of this assumption according to Marx: the historical rebellion of the manufacture worker, especially the construction worker. We had to rekindle the demand that fueled this rebellion: total self-determination, and not just that of the manual operation as such. Our aim was above all political and ethical. Aesthetics only mattered by way of what it included—ethics. Instead of estética, we wrote est ética [this is ethics]. We wanted to make building sites into nests for the return of revolutionary syndicalism, which we ourselves had yet to discover. Sérgio Ferro, born in Brazil in 1938, studied architecture at FAUUSP, São Paulo. In the 1960s, he joined the Brazilian communist party and started, along with Rodrigo Lefevre and Flávio Império, the collective known as Arquitetura Nova. After being arrested by the military dictatorship that took power in Brazil in 1964, he moved to France as an exile. As a painter and a professor at the École Nationale Supérieure d’Architecture de Grenoble, where he founded the Dessin/Chantier laboratory, he engaged in extensive research which resulted in several publications, exhibitions, and awards in Brazil and in France, including the title of Chevalier des Arts et des Lettres in 1992. Following his retirement from teaching, Ferro continues to research, write, and paint.

Whether you’re heading to this year’s Biennale, planning a future visit, or simply daydreaming about Venice, this guide—contributed by Hamilton-based architect Bill Curran—offers insights and ideas for exploring the canal-crossed city. Venice is like eating an entire box of chocolate liqueurs in one go. – Truman Capote Venice is my mystical addiction and I soon will make my 26th trip there, always for about 10 days or more. I keep getting asked why, and asked by other architects to share what to do and what to see. Only Italo Calvino could have reimagined (in ‘Invisible Cities’) such a magical, unique place, a water-born gem forged from 120 islands linked by 400 bridges and beset by a crazy-quilt medieval street and canal pattern. Abstract, dancing light forms dappling off water, the distinct automobile-less quiet. La Serenissima, The Most Serene One. Most buildings along the Grand Canal were warehouses with the family home above on the piano nobile floor above, and servant apartments above that in the attics, in a sea-faring nation state of global traders and merchants like Marco Polo. Uniquely built on a foundation of 1,000-year-old wood pilings, its uneven, wonky buildings have forged a rich place in history, literature and movies: Joseph Brodsky’s Watermark, Hemingway’s Across the River and into the Trees, Don’t Look Now starring Donald Sutherland, Mann’s Death in Venice, The Comfort of Strangers with Christopher Walken, Henry James’ The Wings of the Dove and The Aspern Papers, Kate Hepburn’s ‘Summertime. Yes, yes, Ruskin’s Stones of Venice is an option, as are Merchant of Venice and Casanova. Palazzo Querini Stampalia (Venice): Photo via Wikipedia THE MODERN ARCHITECTURE OF VENICE Much of Venetian life is lived in centuries-old buildings, with a crushing post-war recession leaving it preserved in amber for decades until the mass tourists found it. Now somewhat relieved of at least the cruise ship daytrippers, it is a reasonable place again, except maybe in peak summer. The weight of history, a conservatism for preservation and post-war anti-Americanism led to architectural stagnation. So there are few new, modern buildings, mostly on the edges, and some fine interior interventions, mostly invisible. For modern architecture enthusiasts Venice is a challenge. Carlo Scarpa (Giardini, Venise) – Photo via Wikipedia, licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic license Here is what modern architects should see: Carlo Scarpa‘s Must-See Works: Go see any of Scarpa’s interventions, demonstrating his mastery of detailing, materials, joinery and his approach to blending with existing fabric. He is Italy’s organicist, their Frank Lloyd Wright, and they even worked together (on the Masieri Foundation). Negozio Olivetti: The tiny former Olivetti typewriter showroom enfronting Piazza San Marco is perhaps the most wonderful of his works. It is open now to visit as a heritage museum. ”God is in the details”; Scarpa carefully considered every detail, material and connection. Le magasin Olivetti de Carlo Scarpa (Venise). Photo via Wikipedia. This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic license The Fondazione Querini Stampalia is a must see, a renovated palazzo with ground floor exhibit spaces with tidewater allowed to rise up inside in one area you bridge across. The former entrance bridge is a lovely gem of exquisite detailing, rendered obsolete by a meh renovation by Mario Botta. A MUST is to have a coffee or prosecco in Scarpa’s garden and see the craft and detail of its amazing water feature. The original palazzo rooms are a lovely semi-public library inhabited by uni students; sign up as a member on-line for free. Walk up the spiral stair. The entry gate to the UIAV Architecture School in Campo Tolentini  is an unexpected wonder. A brutalist yet crisply detailed sliding concrete and steel gate, a sculpted concrete lychgate, then an ancient doorway placed on the lawn as a basin. Main Gate of the Tolentini building headquarters of Iuav university of Venice designed by Carlo Scarpa. Photo via Wikipedia, licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic license OTHER MODERN ARCHITECTURE TO SEE: Minimalist Dave Chipperfield expanded an area of suede-like concrete columbariums on the St. Michele cemetery island. Sublime. Extra points if you can find the tomb Scarpa designed nearby. The Ponte della Costituzione (English: Constitution Bridge) is the fourth bridge over the Grand Canal in Venice, Italy. It was designed by Santiago Calatrava. (Image via: Wikipedia) Calatrava’s Ponte della Constituzione bridge is an elegant, springing gazelle over the entrance to the Grand Central. But the glass steps are slippery and are being replaced soon, and the City is suing Calatrava, oops. The barrier-free lift pod died soon after opening. It is lovely though.   Le Canal della Giudecca, la Punta della Dogana, la basilique Santa Maria della Salute de Venise et le Canal Grande à Venise (Italie). Photo via Wikipedia Tadao Ando’s Punte Della Dognana museum is large, with sublime, super-minimalist, steel and glass and velvety exposed concrete interventions, while his Palazzo Grassi Museum was more restoration. A little known fact is that Ando used Scarpa’s lovely woven basketweave metal gate design in homage. An important hidden gem is the Teatrino Grassi behind the Museum, a small but fabulous, spatially dramatic theatre that often has events, a must-see! Fondaco dei Tedeschi: At the foot of Rialto Bridge and renovated by Rem Koolhaas, this former German trading post had been transformed into a luxury shopping mall but closed last month, a financial failure. Graced with a stunning atrium and a not well know fabulous rooftop viewing terrace, its future is now uncertain. The atrium bar is by Phillipe Starck and is cool. Try it just in case. Fondaco dei Tedeschi. Photo via Wikipedia Procuratie Vecchie: This iconic 16th storey building is one of Piazza San Marco’s defining buildings, and David Chipperfield’s restoration and renovation of this building, which defines Piazza San Marco, is all about preservation with a few modern, minimalist interventions. It operates as a Biennale exhibit space. Infill housing on former industrial sites on Guidecca Island includes several interesting new developments called the Fregnans, IACP and Junghans sites (look for fine small apartments such as by Cino Zucchi that reinterpret traditional Venetian apartment language). A small site called Campo di Marte includes side-by-sides by Alvaro Siza (disappointing), Aldo Rossi and Carlo Aymonino (ho hum); some day there will be a Rafael Moneo on the empty lot.     View this post on Instagram   A post shared by Denton Corker Marshall (@dentoncorkermarshall) AT THE BIENNALE: At the Biennale grounds there is much to see, with the only recent project the Australia Pavilion by Denton Corker, a black granite box hovering along a canal. Famous buildings include the Nordic Pavilion (Sven Ferre), Venezuela Pavilion (Carlo Scarpa), Finland Pavilion (Alvar Aalto), former Ticket Booth (Carlo Scarpa), Giardino dell Sculture (Carlo Scarpa), Bookstore (James Stirling) and there are some fab modern interiors inside the old boat factory buildings. Canada’s Pavilion by the Milan firm BBPR (don’t ask why) from 1956 is awkward, weird and much loathed by artists and curators. Le pavillon des pays nordiques (Giardini, Venise). Photo via Wikipedia, licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic license. Just outside the Biennale on the Zattere waterfront is a stirring Monument to the Women Partisans of WWII, laid in the water by Augusto Maurer over a simple stepped-base designed by Scarpa. Venezia – Complesso monastico di San Giorgio Maggiore. Photo via Wikipedia,  licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International license. BEYOND THE BIENNALE The Vatican Chapels: In 2018 the Vatican decided to participate in the Biennale for the first time for some reason and commissioned ten architects to design chapels that are located in a wooded area on the Venetian island of San Giorgio Maggiore, behind Palladio’s church. The architects include Norman Foster, Eduardo Souto de Moura, and Smiljan Radic, and includes The Asplund Pavilion, like the Woodland Chapel  that inspired it. It is intended as a “place of orientation, encounter, meditation, and salutation.” The 10 chapels each symbolize one of the Ten Commandments, and offer 10 unique interpretations of the original Woodland Chapel; many are open air. These are fab and make you think! Chiese San Giorgio Maggiore was designed by Palladio and is fine. But its bell tower offers magnificent city views and avoids the long lines, crowds and costs of Piazza San Marco’s Campanile. Next to San Giorgio you should tour the Cini Foundation, with an amazing stair by Longhera, the modern Monica Lunga Library (Michele De Lucchi) and a lovely Borges-inspired labyrinth garden. Behind San Giorgio en route to the Chapels is the Museo del Vetro (Glass Museum) and the fabulous Le Stanze della Fotografia (contemporary photography gallery) featuring a Mapplethorpe retrospective this year. (If you’re visiting this year, join me in Piazza San Marco on July 7, 2025, for his ex Patti Smith’s concert.) An unknown MUST DO is a concert in the stunning Auditorium Lo Squero (Cattaruzza Millosevich), with but 200 comfy seats in an adapted boat workshop with a stage wall of glass onto the lagoon and the Venitian cityscape. La Fenice Opera House in Venice, Italy. Image via: Wikipedia La Fenice Opera House: after burning down in 1996, Aldo Rossi supervised the rebuilding, more or less ‘as it was, as it is’, the Italian heritage cop-out. There is no Rossi to see here, but it is a lovely grand hall. Book a concert with private box seats. Venice Marco Polo Airport is definitely Aldo Rossi-inspired in its language, materials and colours. The ‘Gateway Terminal’ boat bus and taxi dock is a true grand gateway (see note about Gehry having designed an unbuilt option below). Venice Marco Polo airport. Photo via Wikipedia HIDDEN GEMS Fondazione Vendova by Renzo Piano features automated displays of huge paintings by a local abstract modernist moving about a wonderful huge open warehouse and around viewers. Bizarre and fascinating. Massimo Scolari was a colleague or Rossi’s and is a brilliant, Rationalist visionary and painter, renown to those of us devotees of the Scarpa/Rossi/Scolari cult in the 1980’s. His ‘Wings’ sculpture is a large scale artwork motif from his drawings now perched on the roof of the UIAV School of Architecture, and from the 1991 Biennale. Do yourself a favour, dear reader, look up his work. Krier, Duany and the New Urbanists took note. He reminds me of the 1920s Italian Futurists. You can tour all the fine old churches you want, but only one matters to me: Santa Maria dei Miracoli, a barrel-vaulted, marble and wood-roofed confection. San Nicolo dei Mendicoli is admittedly pretty fab, and featured in ‘Don’t Look Now’.  And the Basilica of Santa Maria Assunta on Torcello has an amazing mosaic floor, very unusual stone slab window shutters (and is near Locanda Cipriani for a wonderful garden lunch, where Hemingway sat and wrote). For the Scarpiani: There is a courtroom, the Manilo Capitolo, inside the Venice Civic Tribunale building in the Rialto Market that was renovated by Scarpa, and is amazing in its detail, including furniture and furnishings. You have to pass security to get in, and wait until court ends if on. It is worth it! The Aula Mario Baratto is a large classroom in a Palazzo overlooking the Grand Canal designed by Carlo Scarpa with amazing wood details and furniture. The room has stunning frescoes also. You can book a tour through Universite Ca’ Foscari. The view at a bend in the Grand Canal is stunning, and you can see the Fondazione Masieri (Scarpa renovation) building off to the left across the side canal (see Missed Opportunities). Within the Accademia Galleries and Correr Museum are a number of small renovations, stairs and art stands designed by Scarpa. Next to the Chiesa di San Sebastino decorated by Veronese is the Scarpa entrance to a linguistics library for the Universita Ca’ Foscari. Fondation W – Wilmotte & Associés: A French architect who is not shy and presumably rather wealthy runs his own exhibition space focused on architecture; ‘…it is both a laboratory and shop window…’,  so one of those. Worth a look. There is a recent Courthouse that is sleek, long, narrow, black and compelling on the north side of Piazzalle Roma, but I have not yet wandered in.   FOOD AND DRINKS FOR ARCHITECTS Philippe Starck’s lobby bar at the Palazzina Grassi hotel is the only cool, mod bar in town. Wow! Ask the barman to see the secret Krug Room and use the PG bar’s unique selfie washroom. I love this bar: old, new, electic. Also, Starck has a house on Burano, next to the pescheria (sorry, useless ephemera). He wants you to drop by. Restaurant Algiubagiò is the only cool, modern restaurant and it has fab food. It also has a great terrace over the water. Go! Zanze XVI is a nice clean mod interior and Michelin food. Worth it. Ristorante Lineadombra: A lovely, crisp modern interior and crisp modern Venetian food. A great terrace on the water also. Local Venice is a newer, clean, crisp resto with ‘interesting’ prices. Your call. Osteria Alla Bifora, while in a traditional workshop space, is a clean open loft, adorned modernly with a lovely array of industrial and historic relics. It is a lovely bar with charcuterie and a patio on the buzzy campo for students. Great for late night. Cicchetti are Venetian tapas, a standard lunch you must try. All’ Arco near Rialto has excellent nouveau food and 50m away is the lovely old school Do Mori. Osteria Al Squero in Dorsoduro overlooks one of the last working gondola workshops, and 100m away is the great Cantino del Vino già Schiavi. Basegò has creative, nouveau cichetti. Drinks on a patio along the Grand Canal can only be had economically at Taverna al Remer, or in Campo Erberia at Nanzaria, Bancogira, Al Pesador or Osteria Al Cichetteria. Avoid any place around Rialto Bridge except these. El Sbarlefo San Pantalon has a Scarpa vibe and a hip, young crowd. There is a Banksy 50’ away. Ristorante Venissa is a short bridge from Burano to Mazzorbo island, a Michelin-starred delight set in its own vineyard.   Since restaurant design cannot tie you up here, try some fab local joints: Trattoria Anzolo Raffaele : The owner’s wife is from Montreal, which is something. A favorite! Pietra Rossa: A fab, smart place with a hidden garden run by a hip, fun young restauranteur, Andrea. Ask for the Canadian architect discount. Oste Mauro Lorenzon : An entertaining wine and charcuterie bar run by the hip young restauranteur’s larger than life father, and nearby. Mauro is a true iconoclast. Only open evenings and I dare you to hang there late. Anice Stellato: A great family run spot, especially for fish. Excellent food always. La Colonna Ristorante: A nice, neighbourhood joint hidden in a small campo. Il Paradiso Perduto: A very lively joint with good food and, rarely in Venice, music. Buzzy and fun. Busa da Lele: Great neighbourhood joint on Murano in a lovely Campo. Trattoria Da Romano: Best local joint on Burano. Starck hangs here, as did Bourdain.   Cafes: Bacaro aea Pescaria is at the corner by Campo de la Becarie. Tiny, but run by lovely guys who cater to pescaria staff. Stand outside with a prosecco and watch the market street theatre. Extra points if you come by for a late night drink. Bar ai Artisti is my second fav café, in Campo S. Barnaba facing where Kate Hepburn splashed into the canal. Real, fab pastries, great terrace in Campo too. Café at Querini Stampalia: get a free visit to Scarpa’s garden and wander it with a coffee or prosecco. Make sure to see the bookstore also (and the Scarpa exhibition hall adjacent). Carlo Scarpa à la Fondation Querini Stampalia (Venise). Photo via Wikipedia, A lesser known place is the nice café in the Biennale Office next to Hotel Monaco, called Ombra del Leone. The café in the Galleria Internationale d’Arte Moderna Ca’ Pesaro is great with a terrace on the Grand Canal.   Cocktail bars: Retro Venezia: Cool, retro vibe. The owner’s wife dated a Canadian hockey player. You must know him. Il Mercante: A fabulous cocktail bar. Go. Time Social Bar:  Another cool cocktail bar. Vero Vino: A fab wine bar where you can sit along a canal. Many good restaurants nearby! Arts Bar Venice: If you must have a cocktail with a compelling story, and are ok with a $45 pricetag. Claims Scarpa design influence, I say no. But read the cocktail stories, they are smart and are named for artists including Scarpa. Bar Longhi in in the Gritti Hotel is a classic, although cheesey to me. Hemingway liked it. It has a Grand Canal terrace. The Hilton Stucky Hotel is a fabulous former flour factory from when they built plants to look like castles, but now has a bland, soulless Hilton interior like you are in Dayton. But it has a rooftop bar and terrace with amazing sunset views! While traditional, the stunning, ornate lobby, atrium and main stair of the Hotel Danieli are a must-see. Have a drink in the lobby bar by the piano player some evening.   STAYING MODERN Palazzina Grassi is the only modern hotel in Venice, with a really lovely, unique lobby/bar/restaurant all done by Philippe Starck. At least see the fab bar! Johnny Depp’s favourite. Generator Hostel: A hip new-age ‘design-focused’ hostel well worth a look. Not like any hostel I ever patronized, no kegs on the porch. Go visit the lobby for the design. A Euro chain. DD724 is a small boutique hotel by an Italian architect with thoughtful detailing and colours, near the Peggy Guggenheim Museum (the infamous Unfinished Palazzo), and they have a small remote outpost with fabulous apartment called iQS that is lovely. The owner’s brother is the architect. My fave! Avogaria: Not just a 5 room hotel, it is ‘a concept’, which is great, right?  But very cool. An architect is one of the owners. German minimalist architect Matteo Thun’s JW Mariott Venice Resort Hotel and Spa is an expensive convent renovation on its own lagoon island that shows how blandness is yawningly close to minimalism. The Hotel Bauer Palazzo has a really lovely mid-century modern section facing Campo San Moise, but it is shrouded in construction scaffolding for now.   SHOPPING MODERN FOR ARCHITECTS It is hard to find cool modern shopping options, but here is where you can: Libreria Acqua Alta: Used books and a lovely, unexpected, fab, alt experience. You must see and wander this experience! It has cats too. Giovanna Zanella: Shoes that are absolute works of art! At least look in her window. Bancolotto N10: Stunning women’s clothing made in the women’ prison as a job skill training program. Impeccable clothes; save a moll from a life of crime. Designs188: Giorgio Nason makes fabulous glass jewellery around the corner from the Peggy Guggenheim Museum. Davide Penso: Artisan made glass jewellery on Murano. Ferrovetro Murano: Artisan made jewellery, bags, scarfs. (on Murano). Madera: All the cool designer housewares and jewellery. DECLARE: Cool, modern leathergoods in a very sweet modern shop with exquisite metal detailing. A must see! Ottica Urbani: Cool Italian eyewear and sunglasses. Paperowl: Handmade paper, products, classes. Feeling Venice: Cool design and tourist bling can be found only here. No shot glasses.   MISSED OPPORTUNITIES, MEMORIES AND B-SIDES The Masieri Foundation: Look up the tragic story of this project, a lovely, small memorial to a young architect who died in a car accident on his honeymoon en route to visit Fallingwater in 1952. Yep. His widow commissioned Frank Lloyd Wright to design a small student residence and study centre, but it was stopped by anti-American and anti-Modernism sentiments. (Models and renderings are on-line). This may be Venice’s saddest architectural loss ever. The consolation prize is a very, very lovely Scarpa interior reno. Try to get in, ring the bell (it is used as offices by the university)! (Read Troy M. Ainsworth’s thesis on the Masieri project history). Also cancelled: Lou Kahn’s Palace of Congress set for the Arsenale, Corbusier’s New Venice Hospital which would have been sitting over the Lagoon in Cannaregio near the rail viaduct, Gehry’s Venice Gateway (the airport’s ferry/water taxi dock area). Also lost was Rossi’s temporary Teatro del Mondo, a barged small theatre that tooted around Venice and was featured in a similar installation in 1988 at the R.C. Harris Water Treatment Plant. All available on-line. Teatro del Mondo di Aldo Rossi, Venezia 1980. Photo via Wikipedia, CC BY-SA 4.0 Itches to scratch: Exercise your design skills to finish the perennial favorite ‘Unfinished Palazzo’ of the Peggy Guggenheim Museum, design a new Masieri Foundation, design the 11th Vatican Chapel or infill the derelict gasometer site next to Palladio’s Chiese San Francisco della Vigna.   FURTHER AFIELD Within an hour’s drive, you can see the simply amazing Tombe Brion in San Vito Altivole and the tiny, stunning Giptotecha Canova in Possagna (both by Scarpa), the Nardini Grappa Distillery in Bassano del Grappa by Maximillio Fuksas, and a ferry and taxi will get you to Richard Meier’s Jesolo Lido Condos on the beach. A longer drive of two hours into the mountains near Cortina will bring you to Scarpa’s lovely and little known Nostra Signore di Cadora Church. It is sublime! Check out the floor! Zaha Hadid’s stunning Messner Mountain Museum floats above Cortina, accessible by cable car. The recent M-09 Museum on mainland Mestre, a quick 10 minute train ride from Venice, by Sauerbruch + Hutton is a lovely urban museum with dynamic cladding. Castelvecchio Museum. Photo via Wikipedia The Veneto region is home to many cool things, and fab train service gets you quickly to Verona (Scarpa’s Castelvecchio Museum and Banco Populare), Vicenza (Palladio’s Villa Rotonda and Basillicata). There are Palladio villas scattered about the Veneto, and you can daytrip by canal boat from Venice to them. Go stand where Hemingway was wounded in WWI near Fossalta Di Piave (there is a plaque), which led to his famous novel, ‘A Farewell to Arms’. He never got to visit Venice until 1948, then fell in love with the city, leading to ‘Across the River and into the Trees’. He also threatened to burn down FLW’s Masieri Foundation if built (and they both came from Oak Park, Illinois. So not very neighborly).   OTHER GOOD ARCHITECTURAL REFERENCES Venice Modern Architecture Map The only guidebook to Modern Architecture in Venice   These architectural guide folks do tours geared to architects: Architecture Tour Venice – Guiding Architects Venice Architecture City Guide: 15 Historical and Contemporary Attractions to Discover in Italy’s City of Canals | ArchDaily Venice architecture, what to see: buildings by Scarpa, Chipperfield and other great architects The post An Architect’s Guide to Venice and its Modern Architecture    appeared first on Canadian Architect.

I’ve been thinking about art deco. The style recently turned 100, and after it arrived via the Exposition Internationale des Arts Décoratifs et Industriels Modernes in Paris, its influence quickly proliferated around the world: One can see its streamline sensibility in New York’s skyline; hotels that line Miami Beach; bus stations across the U.S.; the UNESCO-designated World Heritage city of Asmara, Eritrea; in Mumbai, India; and the Kavanagh Building in Buenos Aires, among other venues. It has a syncretic, catholic vibe in that its geometric directives were combined with vernacular material cultures to create distinct local varieties. Art deco’s optimistic eclecticism absorbed the aesthetic flourishes of art nouveau and cubism alongside rapid transformations in building technology. It arrived in a moment of societal change: Just four years after its eponymous fair, squarely in the middle of the Roaring Twenties, the great crash struck in 1929. (The resulting depression contributed in part to the rise of the Nazi Party in Germany.) In my view, art deco embodies the aspirations of a society that was rapidly concentrating capital, which makes sense that it is experiencing a comeback today. Our current moment bears a striking resemblance to that time: We too have emerged from a global pandemic, are dealing with the rise of fascism, and are grappling with extreme wealth inequality. Architects of that era were responding to rapid changes in technology, just as contemporary practitioners are now. But we have the added anxiety of the climate crisis. While art deco’s formal exuberance was revelatory, these days the same showy flourishes often land as wasteful, overwrought, even lame. Which is to say: Architecture’s long capital-P Project of exploring ever-more-complicated forms has finally come to an end. The heroic pursuit of formal complexity for its own sake feels like a bygone thing. The urgent question is not “Can we build it?” but “Should we build it?” Our technology is sufficiently advanced that all manner of shapes and assemblies are within our reach to imagine, though having the money or construction ability to realize them is another story entirely. This provocation is in part the premise of “Crisis Formalism,” a smart issue of Flash Art Volumes guest edited by Michael Abel and Nile Greenberg of the New York–based ANY, a partnership in architecture, scenography, theory, and design. Their introduction begins: “If we recognize that architecture is at a tipping point—in which form, once immediate and vital, risks dissolving into a haze of proliferating crises—then the moment calls for a fundamental rethinking of form itself, not as an outcome of crisis but as its very cause.” ANY’s contents help us exit the tailspin of architecture’s sublime uselessness, in Manfredo Tafuri’s description. We can move beyond the caveman logic: If form bad and architect make form, then… architecture bad? Uh, not really. Architects should still make things, but perhaps they should be making maintenance plans or organization charts or business plans or adaptive reuse scenarios or affordable housing. Making form is necessary but easy; it’s the rest of the stuff that is hard. What’s needed is a deeper, more thoughtful accounting of form’s impacts, material flows, and complicities. We ought to train ourselves to see form’s shadow. Robert Wilson’s Parzival: A Chair with a Shadow (Martien Mulder) Theater artist Robert Wilson does exactly this with Parzival: A Chair with a Shadow, the chair pictured above as photographed by Martien Mulder. The seat includes a built version of its shadow. “A chair and its shadow—and its shadow’s shadow” and, correspondingly, “the shadow’s shadow—and its chair,” Dung Ngo writes at the end of Robert Wilson: Chairs, a new book published by Ngo’s August Editions and Raisonné. Wilson’s chairs become characters in his plays, so this new publication documents his cast of furniture. This resonates. Wilson, who earned a degree in architecture at Pratt after landing in Brooklyn from his hometown of Waco, Texas, writes in the introduction: “I never thought of theater design as decoration, but as something architectural.” Across this issue, we are on a search for the rationales beneath form, from our news to features on material uses to a Focus section on facade expertise to a Q&A about the future of museums to an excerpt from Sérgio Ferro’s forthcoming book. Much like a century ago, with everything going on in the world, it feels like the right time to press ahead—not to discard architecture’s value but to reexamine what anchors it in our wider culture. It’s like the opening of the poem “Tear It Down” by Jack Gilbert: “We find out the heart only by dismantling what / the heart knows.” Later, a line of welcome direction: “We must unlearn the constellations to see the stars.”