Nowhere is the divide between nature and culture, country and city, seemingly more stark than in New York City, where concrete, glass, and steel long ago tamped down the native flora and fauna of Manhattan. How can architecture and landscape architecture, themselves the product of the nature/culture divide, help mend this physical and philosophical rift?
Balmori and Sanders recently co-edited the book Groundwork: Between Landscape and Architecture. There, in his introductory essay, Sanders writes that it is “imperative” today for “design professionals—architects and landscape architects—to join forces to create integrated designs to address ecological issues.” However, he mourns, “longstanding disciplinary divisions frustrate this crucial endeavor.” In part, Sanders looks back to the very idea of wilderness—that is, a pristine world separate from human activity—as a limit to discovering these “integrated” practices. In his words, “the idea of wilderness is so engrained in the American conscience—through literature, philosophy, and even notions of gender and sexuality—that it has effectively shaped the design approaches and even codes of professional conduct that in many ways still define the relationship between architecture and landscape practice.”
So how can this divide be overcome? What specific projects could we propose in order to demonstrate the “integrated designs” whose absence Sanders highlights? And if the remedy is not a design project at all but a more subtle, philosophical shift in how we think about—and even believe in the concept of—wilderness, what is the proper arena for definitive action?
Sanders and Balmori will discuss these and other questions in the context of their ongoing collaboration for a new linear park system and proposed streetscape redesign here in New York City, which they will also present in an opening slideshow. As you’ll see on Thursday evening, that project envisions a truly massive pedestrian park stretching the length of northern Broadway, and their pitch for it is not to be missed.
I’m also thrilled to say that I will be moderating their discussion, bringing many themes and questions of my own and drawing, for instance, on the recent work of such figures as Emma Marris, Caroline Fraser, Janette Sadik-Khan, Liam Young, landscape anthropologist Clark Erickson, and others. The ensuing Q&A will thus range from future materials (such as robotic geotextiles) and controversial technologies (such as genetic modification) available to landscape architects; the legacies, both toxic and generous, of previous urban planning administrations; the incredible challenge of preemptive landscape design in the context of global climate change; and specific urban sites where ecological redesign is most clearly needed.
You’ll find more information, including how to buy tickets, over at the Museum of the City of New York website. I hope to see some of you there!
The Streets series by photographer Leigh Merrill perfectly captures the often unexpectedly suburban architecture of San Francisco, a city that—away from its famed Victorian houses and its picturesque skyline—can be relentlessly dull. The featureless white skies of that peninsular metropolis and the anemic pastels of its painted stucco facades always seem strangely out of synch with the city’s otherwise vibrant human atmosphere.
[Images: (top) “Convergence” and (bottom) “Christmas” by Leigh Merrill from Streets].
“Upon moving to the San Francisco Bay Area in 2007,” the artist writes, “I began looking at the complexity of its urban environment. The Bay Area presents a unique blend of residential living that sits between urban and suburban in a way that never quite reconciles one with the other.”
Merrill’s photos, on the other hand, are inventions.
[Images: (top) “White Street,” (second from top) “Ocean Circle”, (second from bottom) “Jean Street,” and (bottom) “Caraway Street,” all by Leigh Merrill from Streets].
She continues:
In investigating this landscape I photographed thousands of homes throughout the area and then digitally assembled these images together to create new and illogical structures and streets. At first these images look plausible, however, closer inspection reveals their fabrication. The reconstructed homes and neighborhoods appear skewed, revealing their underlying and sometimes unconscious intentions. These constructs highlight the ways in which our built environments pull from a variety of different architectural and landscape styles and reflect cultural ideas of beauty and perfection. In working with the Bay Area as a site for investigation, I explore what our built environments tell us about our own individual desires as well as our collective culture and ideals.
Similar to the work of Filip Dujardin, Merrill’s images assemble believable structures just up to the limit of surreality. Weird topiaries and stained concretes reappear image to image and impossible vanishing points force odd symmetries on the opposing edges of single compositions.
[Images: (top) “Bushes” and (bottom) “Pebble Street” by Leigh Merrill from Streets].
San Francisco seems surprisingly well-represented by this technique, I have to say, and Merrill’s digital skills are incredible. And, lest her approach somehow seem possible only within the repetitive suburban architecture of outer San Francisco, Merrill has embarked upon a similar project featuring the low-slung buildings and storefronts of north Texas with equally interesting results.
The idea of the imaginary view brings to mind the distortionary engraving techniques of Piranesi, who similarly fabricated exaggerated, impossible, and critical views of the city—in his case, Rome. Only, in this case, it’s as if Piranesi had moved to the Sunset District or the Outer Richmond of San Francisco, that supposedly beautiful city, with a high-res camera and a copy of Creative Suite.
[Images: (top) “Ocean Place” and (bottom) “Ocean Street” by Leigh Merrill from Streets].
Meanwhile, Merrill’s work is available in a new print from Small Batch Editions. Small Batch Editions “is dedicated to bringing together a carefully curated selection of photographs from around the world, and making them available for a wider audience. To this end, we proudly publish limited edition prints, working closely alongside each artist to ensure the highest standards of quality.”
Check out their back catalog—and more of Leigh Merrill’s work—when you get a chance.
(Thanks to Melissa Stafford of Small Batch Editions for the tip).
[Image: A nearly empty banana truck; photo by the author].
I had the pleasure two weeks ago of tagging along on a field trip led by Nicola Twilley, of Edible Geography, for a seminar she’s teaching this fall at Columbia’s GSAPP. Called “The Artificial Cryosphere,” the class is an extended look at spaces and technologies of artificial refrigeration, from morgues to ice cream plants, from sperm banks to indoor hockey rinks, from spacecraft testing rooms to the transportation needs of organ-donation networks.
The field trip itself started off early at a banana-ripening and fruit distribution warehouse in Queens, extending from there to one of the largest refrigerated food warehouses in the country and ending with a series of visits to semi-automated modified-atmosphere packing lines and other meat-processing facilities, complete with fat-covered chainsaws attached to the ceiling and mandatory hairnets.
Nicola has written up the first part of that trip, describing in detail her class’s journey through the architecture of banana ripening. “Nearly two million bananas pass through these ripening rooms,” we read on Edible Geography, “on their journey to New York consumers each week—a vital link in the largely invisible, highly specialized architecture of artificial refrigeration that has enabled the banana to become and remain America’s favourite fruit.” Much of this is about dissimulation, artificially inducing the fruit-ripening process using “pressurized, temperature- and atmosphere-controlled rooms that fool the banana into thinking it is still back on the plant in tropical Ecuador.” It is architecture pretending toward a condition of ideal nature.
Further, we learned how boxes of bananas are first designed—with holes in their cardboard boxes—and then stacked—in orderly aisles, leading to wall-sized fans that suck air through the room—so as to maximize ventilation, and that it is more or less an entirely nocturnal operation, with the warehouse only opening at 10pm. In particular, though, it’s hard to forget walking into the ethylene-dosing chambers with their massive 20′-doors, like something out of a story by H.P. Lovecraft, promising some strange and vaguely sinister vegetative presence on the other side.
[Image: The Lovecraftian doors of the banana crypt; photo by the author].
In any case, Edible Geography has a much longer write-up, and it’s well worth checking out in full.
[Image: The defused Koblenz bomb is lifted to safety].
1) The German city of Koblenz was partially evacuated over the weekend so that two still active WWII-era bombs—including one weighing 1.8 tons—could be defused. The bombs “were discovered when water levels fell because of a prolonged dry spell,” the BBC reports. As it happens, “600 tons of old munitions from two world wars [are] discovered every year” in Germany, with this perhaps being one of the few examples of discovery-by-drought.
2) Elsewhere, drought in parts of Europe has become so extreme that Switzerland’s ski resorts have no snow. “The autumn has been the driest on record in the country.”
3) Over in Texas, meanwhile, a record-setting drought has lent an archaeological air to the region’s weather. “The historic drought that has devastated crops and forced millions of Texans in small towns and large cities to abide by mandatory water restrictions,” the New York Times explains, “has had at least one benefit: As lake levels have dropped around the state, objects of all kinds that had been submerged for years, decades and even centuries are being revealed.” Human skulls, tombstones, the bodies of suicide victims, and even “a piece of debris from the Space Shuttle Columbia” have been found in “roughly 200 previously unreported archaeological sites resulting from lowered lake levels.” The chairman of a local historical commission quips that “everybody hates the drought, but I needed the drought.” “I knew it was there,” he adds, referring to a cemetery for freed slaves that has been revealed by the receding waters. The image is remarkable: a whole state of archaeologists, landowners, and historians waiting patiently on the shores of shrinking lakes for some forgotten landscape or artifact to be revealed.
4) Politics by geography: “There are no guard towers, or Checkpoint Charlies, or even walls. But scores of American cities, counties and metropolitan areas are being divided again—splitting apart families, neighbors and, most important, voters with similar interests and needs—as states engage in the once-a-decade process of drawing the lines of new Congressional districts.” However, “when urban and metropolitan areas are broken up and combined with rural areas, mayors say, fewer voices are left to vigorously push an urban or metropolitan agenda in Washington.” And so cities are underserved by the political process. This latter point is perhaps reminiscent of an earlier discussion here on BLDGBLOG: Minor landscapes and the geography of American political campaigns.
5) “Imagine a lush forest: silent but for the chirping of birds flying through a dense canopy overhead, and damp, aromatic earth underfoot. Now picture a mountain of incinerated trash, 12 million tons of what was once a toxic heap of rotting fish and vegetables, old clothes, broken furniture, diapers and all manner of discarded items.” This describes a new project by architect Tadao Ando called the Sea Forest. The Sea Forest “will transform 88 hectares of reclaimed land, a 30-meter deep mound of alternating layers of landfill, into a dense forest of nearly half a million trees” in Tokyo Bay. Ando adds that it is also an experiment in climate-engineering, or weather control as the future of urban design: “not only will [the forest] become a refreshing retreat for stressed out city workers, it will also create a cool ocean breeze to sweep through the capital and cool its sweaty denizens in summer.”
[Images: Spreads from Project Japan, courtesy of Taschen].
6) The new book Project Japan by Rem Koolhaas and Hans Ulrich Obrist is an incredible document, in both physical and intellectual terms. The design, by Irma Boom, is gorgeous, and the contents—consisting of long, illustrated interviews with such figures as Arata Isozaki, Kenzo Tange’s Tange Lab, Kiyonori Kikutake, Kisho Kurokawa, and many others, scattered amongst historical imagery and present-day site photos—offer a fascinating oral history of the Metabolist movement. As Koolhaas sums it up, Metabolism offered “a manifesto for the total transformation of the country” based on three specific principles. Still quoting Koolhaas:
a) The archipelago has run out of space: mostly mountainous, the surfaces fit for settlement are subdivided in microscopic, centuries old patchworks of ownership b) Earthquakes and tsunamis make all construction precarious; urban concentrations such as Tokyo and Osaka are susceptible to potentially devastating wipeouts [ed. note: cf. today’s calls for a “back-up Tokyo“] c) Modern technology and design offer possibilities for transcending Japan’s structural weakness, but only if they are mobilized systematically, almost militaristically, searching for solutions in every direction: on the land, on the sea, in the air…
Architecture thus becomes the literal geopolitical extension of the state, constructing new territory—such as floating forests and artificial islands—over which to govern. It’s a kind of proactive gerrymandering, we might say: not redesigning the district map, but constructing new districts. In any case, I recommend the book.
7) Cities in the jungle:
a) “Forgoing the plan to build independent floating cities away from chafing laws, some libertarians—led by Milton Friedman’s grandson, no less—have found something better: desperate countries willing to allow the founding of autonomous libertarian cities within their borders.” b) “The inventor of the concept of cities with special laws designed to spur the lagging economies of failing states talks about the latest attempts by the Free Cities Institute to found a charter city in Central America.” c) “The newest—and nicest—road in Myanmar is, paradoxically, one of the emptiest as well: Only a handful of cars travel along the desolate four-lane highway to nowhere, or so it seems. But in fact, it leads to Naypyitaw, a new city in one of the world’s poorest countries, carved out of the jungle and built from scratch by an aging, autocratic leader who then moved the nation’s seat of government there, lock, stock and barrel.”
[Images: Photos by Soe Than Win/AFP/Getty Images, courtesy of NPR].
8) Quantum geology: “A pair of diamond crystals has been linked by quantum entanglement.” This is, as Nature describes it, “a weirdly connected quantum state… [in which] both crystals were simultaneously vibrating and not vibrating.” It’s extraordinary to think about the possibility of much larger-scale quantum entanglement, for instance planet-scale mineral deposits vibrating in tune with one another, like the so-called “diamond planet” discovered earlier this year.
9) Galactic GPS: Autonomous spacecraft could someday navigate the universe based on directional information taken from pulsars. “Pulsars are rapidly rotating neutron stars that are observable as variable celestial sources of electromagnetic radiation. Their periodic signals have timing stabilities comparable to atomic clocks and provide characteristic temporal signatures that can be used as natural navigation beacons, quite similar to the use of GPS satellites for navigation on Earth.”
10) I meant to link this months ago: an office complex in Santa Monica uses trained falcons to ward off other birds. It’s called “falconry-based bird abatement.” In a weird sort of bird-building cyborg assembly, the falcons are kept “tethered to 10-pound blocks” on the edge of an artificial lake in order “to keep them from flying off and landing in harm’s way in the congested area around 26th Street and Olympic Boulevard.” The falcons are even “equipped with tiny transmitters” in case “they get disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings of Santa Monica. But they always respond to [the trainer’s] call when it’s time to take up their positions around the courtyard pond.” It gets weirder: “They spend their nights in large perch boxes in the Water Garden’s subterranean parking garage.” Perhaps all buildings should come with living bird-ornaments…
11) …or robots. By now, you’ve no doubt read that “robotic prison wardens” are set “to patrol [a] South Korean prison.” According to the BBC, “the machines will monitor inmates for abnormal behavior.” What could possibly go wrong?
12) Or we could combine animals and robots in the name of urban safety: “Insect Cyborgs May Become First Responders.” According to ScienceDaily, tiny “cameras, microphones and other sensors and communications equipment” could be mounted directly on the backs of insects, and “we could then send these ‘bugged’ bugs into dangerous or enclosed environments where we would not want humans to go.”
13) A former U.S. military base in Iraq has been turned into a surreal new hotel where “guests are greeted by a jumble of concrete blocks, sand bags and barbed wire—the hotel’s front gate.” The hotel “relies on hundreds of American military residential trailers, known as CHUs, from the acronym for containerized housing unit. They had once accommodated guards.” Now, however, hoteliers have “installed indoor plumbing in some, creating the guest rooms.” On the other hand, the New York Times adds, “besides the few upgrades to the trailers, the prison remains unaltered and eerily empty, the wind whistling through the old guard towers.” Trailers go for roughly $190 a night.
14) There is a growing incidence of archaeological looting in the U.S. led by meth addicts. According to a recent study, “since meth labs are often found in isolated areas, just like archaeological sites, geographical coincidence may explain the complaints. Meth addicts are known for repetitive behavior and may find digging at sites soothing.” This would make an interesting premise for a film: desperate meth heads excavating unmarked burial mounds in the middle of the night, loading up their trucks under the moon.
15) Finally, for now, were the first human architects actually Neanderthals? “Neandertals are stumping for bragging rights as the first builders of mammoth-bone structures, an accomplishment usually attributed to Stone Age people. Humanity’s extinct cousins constructed a large, ring-shaped enclosure out of 116 mammoth bones and tusks at least 44,000 years ago in West Asia,” ScienceNews reports. “The bone edifice, which encircles a 40-square-meter area in which mammoths and other animals were butchered, cooked and eaten, served either to keep out cold winds or as a base for a wooden building.” Elsewhere: Who was the Archigram of mammoth bones?
[Image: Window by Susanna Battin, courtesy of the artist].
If you’re out driving in Los Angeles this coming Friday, December 2, consider using the second lane from the left, heading south on I-15 immediately after the 91 Freeway interchange and before the East Ontario exit: artist Susanna Battin‘s new work, Window, will be on display on a digital billboard overlooking the highway, and will be best viewed from that lane. There, “Los Angeles freeway commuters [will] briefly witness the billboard transform into a window,” Battin explains, in “an attempt to repair the visually severed mountain range” beyond. Battin’s elevated digital image also accounts for “thirteen of San Bernardino’s varying smog conditions,” so the overlap will hopefully work by blending in with the local weather.
Meanwhile, I’m curious if you could achieve something vaguely similar, but without the digital billboard—something like the optical effects of Felice Varini, but applied at a particular curve in the freeway, using different overlapping space frames partially installed on different rooftops, or various painted outlines distributed across other billboards and facades. They would all lock together for a brief and fleeting instant, from one very specific angle, perhaps even too fast to notice, and thus “repair” the surrounding landscape. I suppose, in some mythical world where insurance liability is not an issue, Felice Varini, Susanna Battin, and Caltrans could team up to make the California highway system itself into a massive and perceptually instantaneous optical installation, visible in full effect only at certain exact velocities and angles.
In any case, if you see the installation, and don’t risk crashing your car, consider taking a picture and sending it in; I’d love to see if this works.
The Minescape project by Los Angeles-based photographer Brett Van Ort looks at the ironic effects of landmines on the preservation of natural landscapes, placing woods, meadows, and even remote country roads off-limits, fatally tainted terrains given back to animals and vegetation.
“Left over munitions and landmines from the wars in the early 1990s still litter the countryside in Bosnia,” Van Ort explains.
According to BHMAC (the Mine Action Committee for Bosnia and Herzegovina), just over 3.5% of the land area of the country is still contaminated by landmines. Many of the deminers in the field believe roughly 10% of the country can still be deemed a landmine area. They also feel that nowhere in the countryside is safe, as they may clear one area but a torrential downpour may unearth landmines upstream or upriver; consequently, these unearthed landmines find their way into vicinities that were deemed safe weeks, months or even years ago.
While visiting the landscapes himself, Van Ort adds, “some people told me not to walk into nature at all.”
The photographs seen here juxtapose shots of natural landscapes considered safe—that is, free of landmines—with portraits of the mines once buried there.
“The viewers of these photographs,” Van Ort suggests, “should ask themselves: which of these landscapes would they feel comfortable walking into?”
The project closes with a particularly dark observation: “I see the idea of hand-placed landmines protecting the natural setting and allowing the environment to regenerate itself as an ironic twist on our inability to conserve and see into the future.”
Semi-autonomous flying robots programmed by Swiss architects Gramazio & Kohler “will lift, transport and assemble 1500 polystyrene foam bricks” next month—starting 2 December 2011—at the FRAC Center in France. The result, they hope, will be a “3.5 meter wide structure.”
According to the architects, this will serve as an experimental test-run for the construction of a hypothetical future megastructure—presumably requiring full-scale, autonomous, GPS-stabilized helicopters. However, I’d think that even a small insectile swarm of robot bricklayers piecing together a new low-rise condominium somewhere—its walls slowly materializing out of a cloud of rotors and drones—would be just as compelling.
I’ve been going through a lot of old files recently, including a short piece I clipped from New Scientist five years ago. I absolutely love stories like this, and I swoon a little bit when I read them; it turns out that “plants growing over old sites of human habitation have a different chemistry from their neighbors, and these differences can reveal the location of buried ruins.”
The brief article goes on to tell the story of two archaeologists, who, in collecting plants in Greenland, made the chemical discovery: “Some of their samples were unusually rich in nitrogen-15, and subsequent digs revealed that these plants had been growing above long-abandoned Norse farmsteads.”
The idea that your garden could be more like an indicator landscape for lost archaeological sites—that, below the flowers, informing their very chemistry, perhaps even subtly altering their shapes and colors, are the traces of abandoned architecture—is absolutely unbelievable.
[Images: More extraordinary photogravures by Karl Blossfeldt].
So why not develop a new type of flower in some gene lab somewhere, a designed species that reacts spectacularly to the elevated presence of nitrogen-15 from ruined settlements? Ruin Flowers® by Monsanto acting as deserted medieval village detection-landscapes, as thale cress does for mines.
You plant these flowers or trees or vineyards—future archaeological wine—and you wait three seasons for the traces to develop. Now imagine a modified tree that can only grow directly above ruined houses. Imagine an entire forest of these trees, curling and knurled to form floorplans, shaping out streets and alleyways, rooms instead of orchards and halls instead of groves. Now imagine the city beneath that forest becoming visible as the woods slowly spread, articulating whole lost neighborhoods over time.
Genetically-modified plantlife used as non-invasive archaeological research tools would, at the very least, add a strange practicality to summer gardening activities, in the process turning whole surface landscapes into an unexpected new kind of data visualization program.
It’s the earth’s surface as browser for what waits undetected below.
[Image: A U.S. Predator drone, photographed by Lt. Col. Leslie Pratt, courtesy of the U.S. Air Force via Wikipedia].
The Send Equipment for National Defense Act, sponsored by Texas Representative Ted Poe, would “require that 10 percent of certain equipment returned from Iraq—like Humvees, night-vision equipment and unmanned aerial surveillance craft—be made available to state and local agencies for border-security operations.”
Poe denies that this would militarize the border, as reported by the New York Times; but John Cook, mayor of the border city of El Paso, strongly disagrees, suggesting that only “a whole lot of ignorance” could inspire the plan. Cook points out that “moving war zone equipment to the border would send the wrong signal to Mexico and potentially damage the robust symbiotic economic relationship between the two countries.”
This comes at the same time that Miller-McCune warns that “armed police drones”—or weaponized UAVs—might soon be flying through a sky near you. While Miller-McCune focuses specifically on the sheriff of Montgomery County, Texas, it’s worth pointing out that so-called Leptron Avengers—”battery-operated helicopters designed to take high-resolution video and photos and that can be equipped with night-vision cameras or thermal-imaging equipment”—have also been requested by the Texas city of Arlington, perhaps making Texas—alongside such places as Syria, North Korea, and China—the go-to site today for witnessing civilian adaptations of military surveillance technology.
The current version of this equipment, called the ShadowHawk, “won’t carry weapons,” we’re told, but “the drone’s manufacturer, Vanguard Defense Industries, boasts that it’s strong enough to carry a shotgun or even a grenade launcher.” The firm itself adds that the “ShadowHawk can maintain aerial surveillance of an area (i.e. house, vehicle, person, etc.) at 700 feet without being heard or seen unlike full sized aircraft. Imagine the advantage provided to an entry team in the following scenarios: high risk warrant, hostage rescue, domestic violence, etc.”
Mechanized urban surveillance is hardly news. Indeed, the currently existing network of CCTV cameras already installed in cities all over the world is equally “unmanned,” in an exactly comparable sense; they are fixed-point drones. One could thus make an argument that the ShadowHawk is simply a camera with wings: you have a camera outside CVS or Tesco, ergo you have a camera in the sky above the city. It’s easy to see how “mission creep,” as Miller-McCune calls it, could occur.
Or compare this, for instance, to plans aflight in the UK, where police “are planning to use unmanned spy drones, controversially deployed in Afghanistan, for the ‘routine’ monitoring of antisocial motorists, protesters, agricultural thieves and fly-tippers, in a significant expansion of covert state surveillance.” This will take the form of unmanned airships hovering over the English capital, as if simulating the barrage balloons of World War II.
[Image: Barrage balloons above London, courtesy of Wikipedia].
The drones “are programmed to take off and land on their own, stay airborne for up to 15 hours and reach heights of 20,000ft, making them invisible from the ground,” and they will be launched “in time for the 2012 Olympics.” (An Afghanistan-based version of this program is described as follows: “This fall, there’ll be a new supercomputer in Afghanistan. It’ll be floating 20,000 feet above the warzone, aboard a giant spy blimp that watches and listens to everything for miles around.”)
Briefly, I’m reminded of the opening scene from Christopher Dickey’s book Securing the City, in which a helicopter that falls somewhere between aerial war machine and advanced Hollywood film equipment is breathlessly unveiled: “The winter air is cold and the light hard-edged as the unmarked New York City Police Department helicopter meanders through the winds above the five boroughs,” we read.
It is a state-of-the-art crime-fighting, terror-busting, order-keeping techno toy, with its enormous lens that can magnify any scene on the streets almost one thousand times, then double that digitally; that can watch a crime in progress from miles away, can look in windows, can sense the body heat of people on rooftops or running along sidewalks, can track beepers slipped under cars, can do so very many things that the man in the helmet watching the screens and moving the images with the joystick in his lap, NYPD Detective David Zschau, is often a little bit at a loss for words. “It really is an amazing tool,” he keeps saying.
This technology—whose unlimited vision seems so mind-boggling as to cause aphasia in those who encounter it—should inspire as much moral and political discomfort as an unmanned version of the same helicopter; in other words, we shouldn’t lose sight of the fact that this very kind of spy equipment already exists and has already been deployed. That is, the unnerving implication that we are being watched from above by undetectable robots should not let us forget that being watched from above by human pilots is just as invasive.
In any case, the ShadowHawk, described above, can also be put to use in fire and rescue situations, able to track down “heat sources and cut through the smoke and haze with it’s Forward Looking Infrared (FLIR) or SWIR”—short wave infrared—cameras. Indeed, the company points out that “the vast capabilities of the ShadowHawk are ideal for mitigating and handling disasters whether natural or manmade. From locating victims, serving as an airborne communications relay point or conducting damage assessment, the ShadowHawk will significantly expand response capabilities.” In light of this, it is foolish to reject, universally and in principle, the very idea of unmanned systems operating in non-military environments; but it’s equally foolish to welcome them without a simultaneous demand for strong regulation and oversight.
To be honest, though, it seems only a matter of time before armed police drones are a reality in the United States, and it would thus be great to see a long discussion of the legality—or, at the very least, the societal implications—of such equipment, before we are faced with a scenario none of us adequately understand. For instance, is there a law course somewhere examining the rights and implications of autonomous urban police technologies? Combine this with a look at repurposed military hardware used in patrolling national borders, and the syllabus from such a course would be well worth exploring in detail.
(In addition to the London example, cited above, another rebuke to the moral self-congratulation of the Miller-McCune piece comes from Northern Ireland, where the use of unmanned aerial systems in urban policing might soon take the form of “mini drones” used “to combat crime and the dissident republican threat”—in other words, autonomous police drones are by no means limited to cities in the United States).
Spanish cities are “buckling under bills for empty swimming pools, shuttered sports facilities and unpopular vacation complexes,” according to Miller-McCune. Their economies are “saddled with thousands of publicly funded construction projects made in the starrier moments of a mid-2000s property boom. While in the United States, the real estate crash has hit private homeowners hardest, in Spain it was the city governments that gorged themselves, committing to massive projects on the assumption that taxes, like home prices, would always rise.”
These public over-commitments include the long-empty and seemingly perpetually unfinished Castellon Airport, where “the only proof that [it] is an airport at all, or will be anytime soon, are dozens of bright blue road signs that claim so along the nearby highway.” But is this “15-year effort to build an airport without planes,” as the magazine describes it, “a case of epically bad public administration that helps us understand the crisis Europe is facing? Or was it a crime—a case of corruption—that puts Europe’s crisis in a far harsher light?”
Of course, these infrastructural examples should be seen alongside Peter Eisenman’s City of Culture of Galicia, which was “born in the Spain of excess and is opening during an economic collapse, as a sort of monument to [the] construction bubble.” Eisenman’s highly over-budget project is “a cemetery for money,” as one critic memorably describes it.
[Image: Lava Floe, North Kivu, Eastern Congo, by Richard Mosse (2011)].
Richard will be showing new work from his Infra series, taken on a series of trips to the Congo, visiting tribal reconciliation gatherings, deserted battlefields, UN-administered aid camps, active war zones, and remote mountain villages in the extraordinary rolling landscape.
[Images: (top to bottom) Flower of the Mountain, House Of Cards V, and Come Out (1966) II, all by Richard Mosse, North Kivu, Eastern Congo (2011)].
From the gallery description:
For centuries, the Congo has compelled and defied the Western imagination. Richard Mosse brings to this subject the use of a discontinued military surveillance technology, a type of color infrared film called Kodak Aerochrome. Originally developed for camouflage detection, this aerial reconnaissance film registers an invisible spectrum of infrared light, rendering the green landscape in vivid hues of lavender, crimson, and hot pink.
However, infrared film “also found civilian uses among cartographers, agronomists, hydrologists, and archaeologists,” the gallery adds, “to reveal subtle changes in the landscape”—and it was in this capacity that Richard first picked up on the conceptual power of the technique.
He began visiting the Congo, using infrared film to document the line between the living and the dead in the war-torn landscape, as living vegetation when exposed on this film appears in blood-like shades of burgundy, pink, and violet, and artificial materials—from army uniforms to discarded weapons—fall flat, appearing nearly black & white like blurs and specters in the terrain.
[Images: (top) Nowhere To Run, South Kivu, Eastern Congo (2010); (bottom) Taking Tiger Mountain, North Kivu, Eastern Congo (2011), by Richard Mosse].
However, does the surreal transformation of the landscape here make the reality they depict seem that much more dreamlike and politically unreachable—as if we’ve stumbled upon some strange and very alien race of warriors living amidst military hardware and forests the color of chewing gum, like strandees in a spectacular videogame, where pure white clouds hover above an earth the color of merlot?
Or is that part of a deliberate strategy, a comment on the seemingly impossible task of representing African conflict? Put another way, what specific interpretive role does the filmstock itself play in this scenario?
[Image: Blue Mask, Lake Kivu, Eastern Congo (2010) by Richard Mosse].
In any case, stop by the Jack Shainman Gallery tonight to talk to the artist and see the work at full scale.
[Image: Untitled, Diana Balmori (2010), via Architect’s Newspaper].
[Image: “Sunset Bulbs” by 
[Images: (top) “Convergence” and (bottom) “Christmas” by 
[Images: (top) “White Street,” (second from top) “Ocean Circle”, (second from bottom) “Jean Street,” and (bottom) “Caraway Street,” all by 
[Images: (top) “Bushes” and (bottom) “Pebble Street” by 
[Image: “The Dragon” by 
[Images: (top) “Ocean Place” and (bottom) “Ocean Street” by 
[Image: A nearly empty banana truck; photo by the author].
[Image: The Lovecraftian doors of the banana crypt; photo by the author].
[Image: The defused Koblenz bomb is lifted to safety].
[Image: Part of the Space Shuttle Columbia; photo courtesy of the 
[Images: Spreads from Project Japan, courtesy of 
[Images: Photos by Soe Than Win/AFP/Getty Images, courtesy of 
[Image: An “insect cyborg” via 
[Image: Photo by 
[Image: Window by 
[Images: From 
[Images: From 
[Images: From 
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[Image: From “
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[Images: Botanical photogravures by 
[Images: More extraordinary photogravures by 
[Image: 
[Image: A U.S. Predator drone, photographed by Lt. Col. Leslie Pratt, courtesy of the U.S. Air Force via 
[Image: The 
[Image: Barrage balloons above London, courtesy of 
[Images: From an October 2009 presentation by Major General Blair Hansen to the 
[Image: Men of Good Fortune, North Kivu, Eastern Congo, by 
[Image: Lava Floe, North Kivu, Eastern Congo, by 
[Images: (top to bottom) Flower of the Mountain, House Of Cards V, and Come Out (1966) II, all by 
[Images: (top) Nowhere To Run, South Kivu, Eastern Congo (2010); (bottom) Taking Tiger Mountain, North Kivu, Eastern Congo (2011), by 
[Image: Blue Mask, Lake Kivu, Eastern Congo (2010) by 