Changing a Name Does Not Change a Purpose

I am not sure why architecture speaks to me as much as it does. Since I was a child I marvel at what man can do with the materials at hand. And the dedication to crafting something beautiful, detailed and in a scale to rival mountains... it staggers the mind. The most amazing thing about the skill of the architects craft is the amount of collaboration between masons and builders, artisans and craftsman... the armies that it must have taken to build that which an architect envisions. Take Gaudi's Sagrada Familia in Barcelona. 126 years after it began it is still under construction. And it is a wonder.

And architecture has always made me wonder. How do you get nature's hardest materials to cooperate with the file and chisel? How do you make a stained glass window vibrant even when the sun does not shine? And how to you accomplish this several stories above ground? And how did they do this hundreds of years ago without the aid of modern machinery? Moreover, with the mechanical means at our disposal... why do we not do it more now?

Modern art, minimalism and the de Stijl movement has stripped architecture of its character and variety. Yes. It is less expensive to build. But it is also less interesting to preserve. As my home town slowly picks up its pace and joins the world's progress closer to real time than when I was a child, we lose more and more of the things that set us apart from other places. We are gaining a homogeny that erases our past. Our schools look like prisons and the hospitals and clinic look like banks. Banks look like box stores and box stores look like borg cubes without the intricate steampunk facades.

Yet, in the rolling hills that used to be the countryside of Traverse City's early days, there is a movement to save shades of the past through repurposing the Northern Michigan Asylum. The Asylum was renamed the Traverse City State Hospital sometime in its past to reflect the redistricting of territories served by the state health administration. Today it is called the Commons. As it was then, Building 50 is the jewel in this Victorian era crown.

See what I mean about the homogeneous present of our history? To call it the Commons is to make it seem as if it is no different than any other place. It is not. But if you would like to gloss over the history of the illness, pain, suffering and death then by all means. Call it the Commons so that it is no more lively with history than the modern McMansions. Take the spiritual history out of the place so that people will live, work and shop here without any thought to the paranormal.

More than one person has told me that the various ghost hunters who are drawn to the hospital have been rebuffed because the developers don't want to associate the place with ghosts. It's a novelty that would drawn attention. But it is also a novelty that can draw negative investment income if the ghostly aspect is too prominent. Funny... adults have forever said there are no such things as ghosts and they mock the new agers for the belief by calling us infantile and simple minded superstitious fools. And yet...  they are afraid of ghosts impacting the fiscal picture.

So are ghosts real or not? We must all believe in them to some degree. The idea of there being ghosts can not be an issue. There are a good many people for whom there is no whimsy and as such there are no ghosts. They go on counting their coins, inventing new businesses and living the capitalist life. There can not be such a danger from belief that whitewashing the place in renovations and media outlets would be necessary.

I would like to think that this about the architecture.

And why not? The grounds sit on rolling hills, some of which are wooded, with a stream and small rapids running through it. The Asylum was completely self sustaining for a good portion of its functioning life. It had its own railroad station, barns and farmland, processing plant, bakery, butcher shop, mechanical shop, woodshop, fire station and church. Then an infirmary was added that has become the monster hospital it is now. The main building and its subordinate cottages were decked in Victorian grandeur. The only other place in town in which that historic aesthetic is as well preserved it the Old Towne neighborhood with Reynolds Jonkoff funeral home as its crowning jewel. The original Asylum was a castle. Comparatively, today it is still a castle. But it has suffered through its updates.

I learned a lot about the hospital in our local history section of our native bookstore. From the many books there, I have concluded that Building 50 is permanently scarred by the blighting remodel done in the 50s and 60s. The true character of the entire site will never reach its initial grandeur. There really is only so much that can be done cosmetically when the needs of functionality command the lions share of the budget. To make the buildings habitable again there must be sacrifices. And in an age where we content ourselves with photos and blog posts to preserve the past, to keep our memories for us, we will sacrifice experiencing the visual and tactile qualities that are lost to us. To us... those living in the here and now, such frills and furbelows are not necessary. They are not our anchors of spirit to place.

Today we anchor ourselves to place with the people we share a bottle of wine, a cup of excellent coffee, a dinner we could never prepare at home, art we may never be able to afford but can appreciate nonetheless, the market fairs and outdoor festivals which celebrate our modern sensibilities. However, the denizens who remain there decades after passing are anchored by the aesthetic as well as the experiences that could once be had. We can not experience the farms, the gardens, the walks to invigorate (and perhaps reignite) the depressed spirit. Those things are all gone. But if the gingerbread, mouldings and stained glass could return along with the cupolas, corbels and dentils then it would be so much closer to the original that spirit and flesh could both touch the facades and find a distinguished anchor. Perhaps, in having a common connection with the those past, the creep factor might be reduced.

Trust me. It is creepy. Certain times of the year more than others, and in certain locations more than others, there are restless entities and disharmonious energies that are not any fun to bump into, day or night. None of it is truly dangerous. One of the superintendents remains to keep things from getting out of hand. I met him once when I was a kid. I thought he was real. And my mom got freaked out because she saw me having a conversation with thin air. I didn't know he wasn't real until I saw him in the pages of an asylum history book. And he still isn't scary. There is an old man, stereotypically yelling at kids who are there later than he thinks appropriate. Most of which can not hear him. His frustration is palpable and understood. Otherwise there are people wandering around with no more clue to their existence now than when they lived. And at least one who is still angry that she was ever there in the first place. And perhaps rightly so if she were more lively of spirit than her Victorian counterparts. Never let it be said that challenging the status quo is without its hazards. There are those who wanted to be there to be left alone, free of the torment of their life. And they would like to continue to have the freedom from life.

I wandered into a pity party on my last foray and suffered the consequence. Nothing deadly. Nothing
malevolent. I wandered into a public wood assuming that there was no need to seek permission. But there is a round little hill that looks like the top of a monk's bald pate. It is nearly perfectly skull shape with a ring of vegetation that could pass for middle ages tonsorial chic. And the perfect place to sit and weep, head in hand and away from judging eyes. It is also a great place to read, to feel, to exist without pressures. It's the kind of place an introvert could really feel at home in nature. So, I hopped a few steps hoping for the seldom shot picturesque backside of this grand victorian castle and experience a few minutes of the solitude I've been craving. I did not get far as I was promptly smacked between the eyes. Oddly enough, there were not any tree branches low enough to have done the job. Not so oddly though, it was my third eye that got smacked. A very clear signal that I tread without permission. Lesson learned. Photo shoot over.

Thrill seekers and fans of the paranormal have flocked here since its closing. Hikers and naturalists seek the property because of its grand arboreal history, challenging slopes and well... because it is where the school kids have always run cross country training exercises. And those who need to get away and do not want to run into anyone else have sought the large expanse of yard and park to be able to "get lost". And yes, those who love architecture seek the property as well.

None of those make money. So the homes and businesses that are slowly taking over the defunct buildings are necessary to preserve the property, keeping it available to all the present and future citizens of Traverse City. It is a shame though that availability to the citizens of the past is so curtailed. They do us no more harm in spirit than they were wont to do in the past.

The Unintended Library Tour 2014

Not sure how it happened. But it seems as though anywhere we went this Summer we were in someone's library. Fortunately there was nothing lurking in the shadows waiting to save us. For the most part we both enjoy books and libraries in general. And while I do see my local library as something of an art piece itself, and can appreciate the art that populates it, I have never really seen libraries as a thing to tour like lighthouses or other architecturally interesting buildings. But as we traveled it happened that we began the Unintended Library Tour.

When we went to Elk Rapids I wanted to go to the library there for personal reasons. My grandfather owned the island and house for a time, it was my favorite place to go when we went there as kids and as far as the aesthetic goes... it looks like Green Gables. Well... the version that I have of it in my head. And so we went. And BF indulged me with my camera as he always does.

The trip to Petosky was another matter. We were going for the food. His parents made a recommendation and we were thinking that we should travel a little further a field than in the past. It was a Sunday and town was quiet around noon when we got there. After the time in the car we needed a restroom. The wayfinding map indicated one right in front of us. Unless it was cloaked the map was mismarked. But oddly the library was open on a Sunday. So we went in search of the lavatory. I didn't expect the inside of the library to be as incredibly interesting as it was. The outside was amazing with its cupola and corinthian columns. But dang.... the inside. The inside was Amazing!!  While we were there it occurred to me that there was a place to see with really amazing construction. But we had goals for downtown Petosky. So my brilliant idea for Charlevoix would wait for the return trip home.

And as we went home and got through Charlevoix we made the right turn toward the hospital and looked at the mushroom houses. While we were looking for more of them we made a discovery.... another acrylic fish sculpture. Well.... that seemed worth investigating. When we pulled up it was the library. It is currently housed in an old school. So... add one more to the library tour.

Funny thing is, I didn't notice it until we got home and I started to do the photo edits. Since he has classwork to do we will be going to our library. And I will take pictures there to add to the collection.

I wonder if we will ever get a fish for our library.

Byzantium: She'll be waiting in Istanbul

There are few things as iconic as the famed yellow border of a National Geographic magazine except, perhaps, the religious icons of a long forgotten era of World History originating on the peninsula between the Mediterranean & Black seas... in the city of Byzantium, the cultural center of the Byzantine Empire.

 Known by a variety of names by the early inhabitants; Romania, Empire of the Romans and among the cultural elite of the main body of the Roman Empire of the West, Empire of the Greeks. This term was used to define the eastern portion of the Roman Empire by its primarily Greek inhabitants and rulers as almost a class unto itself. At least this is how I interpret the wiki article I've been perusing. As part of the entire Roman world you would think that the traditional Roman remodel would have come to this far flung area as is usual. Somewhere in history that I have yet to unearth, someone decided to make peace with the Greek factions that were conquered and given this region between the Seas for their playground. And it is here that the Greek aesthetic won out over the more subdued Roman style. So I gather.

The first use of the term Byzantium came in 1557 from a German historian named Hieronymus Wolff. It was not popularized until the Victorian era but once the name took it spread like wildfire. Byzantium is the empire's capital city and has been more popularly known by its other names.... Istanbul. And Constantinople....





You're welcome.

The magazine above was published in 1983. I clearly recall this cover. And most of the pictures inside. But for whatever reason the information in the articles is a bit hard to recover from the depths of my memory banks. All I know is that I loved the colors and patterns, the architecture and the symbolism in the things that they were restoring. And I love the places that you can see its influence. And true to the 80s style, jewel tones, icons and bold brass, bold gold patterns came into vogue from this long dormant empire back into the sun of our collective artistic consciousness. Eventually this lead to a brief fling with heraldic symbols. But the jewel tones indicative of the Empire stayed through out the decade.

While looking over the internet for suitable art work to pilfer for this post, I came across a very interesting article on an amazing art site. It amazes me just how much of the things I used to absorb as a kid and drool over just a few years ago has left the building so to speak. Obviously, with my passion for rich colors, the influence is still there. And I do wonder again. About everything. But as I am looking over the art on google and I find so many mosaics, I do wonder that anyone had the patience to put these things together. I have a hard time with a 1000 piece puzzle. As I have done eggshell mosaics and found those tedious as well, I can not think on how to accomplish these wall murals and floor designs with these itty bitty pieces of stone.

Look at the detail. You can't plan-a-gram that. Or can you? I have a hard time with printed counted cross-stich and needle work. Obviously with religion as a theme, there is a component of meditation involved with the practice that I can not fathom. So I will have to focus on subject and colors and forget about the process which undoubtedly would drive me batty.

Perhaps I will have to build a board on Pintrest to remember all these things that are still tucked away in boxes somewhere.

Random Adventures About Town

 

 

The Traverse City State Hospital was built in 1911... or established in 1911. The history is almost irrelevant today as I am mainly enthralled by today's adventure. A friend of mine and I went up today to toddle around and take pictures of the patina and decay before the reclamation process makes it all shiny and new again. The place has character in any state of existence, it has a story for almost every resident of our fair city. But today was about the design  and the patterns of life etched across those designs. If anything could stand as a symbol for change this is the place. Since my friend is moving on to other things in her young life it seemed the right way to celebrate her changes.

 

After traveling the exterior footprints of the remaining buildings we arrived back where we started and finished the adventure with a wonderful Italian meal made by authentic Italian transplants here. The various stages of construction flowed from one design aesthetic to the other. Some places bore an Italianate design as is fitting since the developers are Italian. Others had a decidedly Dutch/German/Scandanavian face. In several spots I thought that we were on the grounds of a glorious European castle.... or at least could fake it well for a while.

 

My thoughts kept returning to the Gothic architecture and the things in my art history class that are fading without constant use, my heart kept turning back to the idea that I need to get to Germany. Drawn almost inexplicably, the desire to go does not diminish. And this façade did nothing to ease the desires....

 

For whatever reason this octagonal bay protruding into an almost enclosed courtyard seemed to me the most German face on any of the building. Simple, strong design, clean lines and honestly, one of the best looking of the older buildings and stark in its contrasts just seemed to say Middle Germany. Maybe not middle ages Europe. But Middle Germany. The only thing that is missing here is a couple of swans swimming in a moat or a pond with Willow trees framing the picture. Matthias' Schwanenkönig played in my head while Sarah and I blithely snapped picture after picture.

 

Coming around one corner at the right of this picture we found gables in dire need of restoration but still beautiful in its state of decay...

This reminded me of the canal houses along the rivers and in the ports of just about every country touching the North Sea. I t needs so much care and attention. With its great bones still in tact, and amazingly, with its gingerbread still held aloft, the character and rich tradition of craftsman ship that was once part of our American heritage is evident still. With the weathered textures and crumbling blocks that heritage's European roots show. And knowing that Europe protects and honors its cultural heritage far better than we do here, I think is what made me think of Europe, Germany all night.

As we left we heard parts of an open air concert on the lawn behind Building 50, the State Hospital's most recognized sector. How wonderfully weird it would have been to have had the power to blend all my interests in that moment and have Matthias here on the grounds or put Building 50 in Europe at one of his up coming venues. I would love a time when all of my weird interests could collide in a spectacular revel.

 

Alas... that will have to wait for the dreamscape.

 

I learned a few things about me and my ambitions tonight while talking with Sarah.

I learned about my shortcomings in the skills department. The panoramic setting still escapes me and the composite image about shows me I need to work on those skills.

 

I have plenty of Summer sunlight left to practice.

And plenty of Life to work those ambitions out.

 

But for now I must go to bed. Its' been a long three days and I am overly tired. If I do not dream of dragons, unicorns and rampant lions tonight I will be surprised.