01/25/2013 § 1 Comment
a love poem
I think of you and think
I love you.
Other thoughts dim, blocked.
I reach deep to write you words of great meaning.
and unfold the layers
of my mind
and my heart
and I take a good long look,
and in reaching I find my love for you
in every crevice of me.
I feel it along the bottom of my cheek as I think of your fingers there;
or at the back of my head as I feel your hand there.
My love for you runs down my spine
and tickles in places, like lips graze,
Your hands upon me
not consuming, just dancing
on top of my skin
As I think of you, I braid these streams of thoughts
and seamlessly weave these strands of emotions
and knit whispers gentle as breezes into my cherished memories of us.
My love for you has infiltrated me and I cannot untangle you from myself;
nor do I want to.
01/21/2013 § Leave a comment
The lasting lessons from this past visit to the Eames house had everything to do with what was beyond the house. The view across the Pacific Coast Highway brings with its beauty the desire to know what it was in 1949, before the build-up – decidedly unpoetic. On the property, the house is in playful dialogue with the trees, the sundappled meadow and nestled tenderly with the hill; the house makes one long for all buildings to converse so easily with their surroundings. An anecdote told to us by the present staff member I know will have lasting effect in my life since it articulates just the sort of evidence I need to confidently take the position that good architecture takes the time of stillness and play as much as the serious work of analysis.
The initial design for the house crossed this meadow; designed by Charles Eames with Eero Saarinen it was aptly named the bridge house and would have been built had the steel for its construction not been delayed due to the war effort from 1945 to 1948. By the time the steel arrived, the Eameses had “fallen in love” with the meadow and were determined to nurture the meadow with their structure, and not cross it.
01/15/2013 § Leave a comment