PK_SOP's blog

Sense of PlaceOff the grid vs. on the grid

Clusterfuck nation vs. quant European towns

NYU vs. other schools (with the community-feel)

The idea of Home……

These are just some of the memorable topics from class.

It has certainly been one of my favorites at NYU, and sadly, Sense of Place is my last class at NYU. I loved the setup of the class, from the class size to the actual material tought, and I especially loved our class discussions. Everyone seemed to have a lot of interesting things to say, and it only made me love Gallatin more for that opportunity.

Place has always been something I’ve been sensitive to. I’m always aware of how places affect me, whether that is in finding the perfect place to study or just the way I feel when traveling abroad. I don’t think I’ll ever go as far as Elizabeth Chamberlain in her quest for ultimate Feng Shui, but I will certainly consider color psychology and space relation once I get my new apartment in the city (perhaps in a week! YIKES).

This class will stay with me forever.

Thank you Steve, and thank you class for all your wonderful insight.

TimbuktuIn Yi-Fu Tuan’s ‘Intimate Experiences of Place’ chapter, he explores the notion of skewed reality.

Tuan states that “evaluations and judgments tend to be clichés. The data of the senses are pushed under in favor of what one is taught to see and admire.” In addition, “thinking creates distance” Tuan is thus, pointing out the rarity of having a ‘real’ experience with a place.

Reading this reminded me of Walter Lippmann’s book, Public Opinion. Lippmann provides examples of impediments to the “actual environment”, including our scanty attention levels, the poverty of language, distractions, unconscious constellations of feeling, monotony, and the obscurity and complexity of facts themselves. He also states that “even the eyewitness does not bring back a naïve picture of the scene..” because our senses are arbitrary and visual perceptions are complicated by tricks of memory and imagination.

Although Lippmann is focused on a more general idea of ‘truth’, both he and Tuan successfully note possible obstructions to truth whether that is in reference to a place or situation.

Luckily, Tuan says that we can still have a true experience, “In a new setting ,[where] we are forced to see and think without the whole world of known sights, sounds, and smells.[…]

Good luck!

Restaurant Map 

Why did you choose to map out restaurants in NYC?

I just asked myself why I personally love NYC so much. I LOVE food and trying new restaurants and apparently, there are about 16,700 restaurants in Manhattan... A different one to eat in every day for 46 years. Manhattan is clearly the perfect place for a foodie like me.

I wanted to create something that would point to why I love this city, so mapping out the places where I feel the happiest, seemed like the right direction.

In one of my past blogs for Sense of Place, I questioned whether it was only possible to have an intimate relationship with a place if we don’t have an intimate relationship with a person within that place. This project is an illustration of how restaurants in particular have become important elements in the equation for my own love for NYC.

Why did you choose to map out these restaurants in particular?

I chose each of these restaurants because they mean a lot to me. Each restaurant represents someone close to me because of the memorable experiences I had with each of them at these places.

This is not a listing of my favorite restaurants solely in terms of food quality. (Although I must say, most of the restaurants on the list are incredible.)

I am well aware that two of these seven restaurants listed, are scoffed upon by foodies, which I can completely understand. Unlike the other restaurants, these two do not focus primarily on the quality of their food. They can be known as “tourist traps”….or just the restaurants that amateurs believe are top notch restaurants.

Will you please elaborate on the memories and/or people that each of these restaurants represent?

Absolutely.

Estiatorio Milos, an incredible seafood restaurant uptown, reminds me of my Dad.

I loved every time he would come visit me in ny on business trips. It was our time of bonding. I come from a big family, and so this was the only opportunity we had for one-on-one time. The two of us would choose restaurants to try out together and always had a blast.

At this particular restaurant, I remember my Dad ordering a glass of wine for each of us. It was the first time I had my own glass of wine at a restaurant. (I was underage of course.) When the waiter asked my dad if the wine was to his liking, my Dad, with a serious look on his face, lifted the glass, delicately twirled the glass in his hand, then placed the glass under his nose and moved the glass side to side as he took in the wine’s aroma…….then he just nodded his head up and down to the waiter, to say yes . Once the waiter walked away, my dad suddenly puts a big smile on his face and says to me “I have no idea what the hell I just did.”

.....

NYC Subway

“Etiquette is very important when so many people are crammed into such small spaces. First of all, when preparing to board the subway, let people off of the train before shoving your way inside. Take only one seat when it’s crowded -- don’t put your feet up, put your bag on a seat, or sprawl all over the car. Be gallant and give up your seat if you see a pregnant, elderly, or handicapped person standing. Most importantly, keep your hands (and the rest of your body parts) to yourself.” (About.com)

Are these etiquette rules followed in the NYC subway?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gzHHuh7J8Bs

Whiteheads fantastic writings on the NYC subway scene inspired me to reflect on my own subway experiences:

SUBWAY ARCHETYPES

The Pervert…….stared at me without blinking for 10 minutes straight and said, “I like the way you adjusted your pants.”

The Asshole…..is 1 of 40 sardines in this can of a subway and yet is the only one yelling and cursing (at the woman who happened to accidentally bump into him): “Don’t fucking touch me!”

The Performer….made my day when he and his buddy formed a gigantic human ball and rolled down the train aisle. My sister’s first nyc subway ride experience couldn’t have been more perfect.

The Beggar….will unfortunately have to continue to beg from one train car to another.

The Old Lady…is very rarely offered a seat …..unless I’m in the train car (cuz my mother raised me right).

The Student….is me, reading a book, and listening to my ipod in hopes of escaping my claustrophobic hell.

Paul Auster’s City of Glass, begins with an introduction to the character Quinn, a lonesome man who loved taking long walks through New York City, “never really going anywhere, but simply going wherever his legs happen to take him”. Quinn left himself behind with each step, giving himself up to the movement of the streets. Here he found a sense of emptiness, peace, and on his best walks, a sense of ‘nowhere’.

While Tuan found place in “Pause”, Auster found placelessness within aimless movement or in other words, the surrendering of oneself to the drift of one’s own body…and being nowhere but within yourself.

When I perform on stage, I feel a similar surrender as each movement flows out of me…. Any and all worries escape me on the stage. It is a feeling of surpassing the realm of humanity…the vernacular. For those 5+ minutes of spotlight and darkness, it’s just me and the music in perfect harmony. It is motion in essence. Epitomized in my belly-dancing, my body and soul become intertwined in each note, each beat of the drum ….Every step comes naturally. Nothing is planned. No hesitation. No thoughts. Just soul and improvised movement. Belly Dance

Auster writes, “By wandering aimlessly, all places became equal, and it no longer mattered where he was.” When I dance on stage, where I am doesn’t matter. It is a transcending experience guided by instinct.

Does a sense of placelessness occur when we are at the peak of self-realization?

I believe that it is only when our thoughts escape us, and our senses dominate that we can experience “placelessness”.

And it is only then that you exist for no one but yourself.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UHippC4blbY

Feng Shui HomeWhat makes a house—or an apartment, a condo, a cabin or even a yurt—a home? We can certainly improve our mood by applying Feng Shui, color psychology, and interior design to a designated space, but how far do these tools go in creating a “home” versus just a house? Is the creation of a comfortable space enough? Or is there a lot more to the equation?

Tuan states that “Intimate occasions are often those on which we become passive and allow ourselves to be vulnerable, exposed to the caress and sting of new experience,” and that “Intimate places are places of nurture where our fundamental needs are heeded and cared for without fuss” (Tuan 137).

His statements urged me to reflect on my own sense of home. I live in an NYU dorm right now with my roommate, whom I have been living with for the last two and a half years, but my permanent home, where my parents and siblings live, is in Los Angeles. Even though my dorm is about three quarters the size of just my bedroom in Los Angeles, is clustered, and certainly doesn’t follow the rules of Feng Shui, I call it ‘home’. I wondered why this was, so I had a discussion with my roommate, who also feels like the dorm is (a) “home” to her. We both concluded that it was our relationship that made that space feel like home. It wasn’t a matter of the physical nature of the place, because as a dorm, it was almost transient, just a temporary place, but a matter of having our “fundamental needs heeded and cared for without fuss”. My roommate and I are so comfortable together that we are able to put our guards down… “become passive and allow ourselves to be vulnerable”. So then does that mean that this “sense of place” is highly dependent on our relationship with people within that space? Does a “home” depend on it? My roommate and I started wondering, then how is a home created if one is living alone?

Imagine someone living alone, in a space covered in white walls, without any photographs or art work, but just the essentials of living: a simple bed, kitchen, desk, chair, toilet. Could this be a home for someone, simply created by necessary utilities, ritual, and security (a door with a lock)? Or would this just be a house? In my opinion, it would just be a house.

Our living spaces nourish who we are, buffer us from stress, and provide opportunities both for privacy and for socializing with family and friends, but these things wouldn’t be made possible without familiar surroundings, people, and routines, all providing us with a sense of security and comfort.
We can create a beautiful space by decorating it with things we find aesthetically pleasing, and we can surround the space with objects, such as photographs or souvenirs from past trips abroad, that create a familiar atmosphere and remind us of happy moments in our past.
But is this enough to create a ‘home’, or do we need people that we can put our guard down with living there too? Also, is there a limit to how many ‘homes’ can we have?

Think Coffee 2 PM. 50°F. March 1st , 2009. Here I am, sitting in a coffee shop located on New York City’s Bowery. I’m seated near the entrance, and I can’t help but notice the different types of people that enter through the door—From the Plain Janes to the Fancy Nancys, from the bums to the Business Men….Suits/sweats….Stilettos/sneakers…Prada Bag/trash bag….It made me wonder, are they all locals to the Bowery? From my seat, I can peer out the large windows and see a four story, graffitied brick building to my left; the oldest looking building on the block. The next building to the right is NYU’s Second Street Dormitory. To the right of that building, the Amato Opera, one of the oldest Operas in New York City. To the right of that building, a BRC homeless shelter. To the right of that, a John Varvatos, which is a high-end, men’s clothing store, then a Chase Bank, and then finally, the brand new Avalon condominiums. It’s the tallest building on the block, with eight stories, and is certainly the priciest place to live on the block, if not all of the Bowery.

Istanbul, TurkeyIn a 1958 essay, Jackson examined European urbanism, landscape, history, and national cultures. This gave him an opportunity to critique modern notions of planning. One city he examines is Istanbul. He states that it is a city with many flaws, from a planner's standpoint: narrow streets, filth, dangerous buildings, and rats:

“And yet what marvelous color and variety, what a superabundance of life! ... We can study the anatomy of the city, its physical structure until the cows come home; we can design on paper cities which are models of efficiency, comfort, hygiene, even beauty of a sort; but until we learn to study its physiology, to listen to its heartbeat, as it were, to watch its regular breathing, every such project will be dead at birth. For all its sordidness, Istanbul is a city where urban life has created its own forms, and not the other way around.” (Jackson 1958, quoted in Jackson 1997, 289-290)

I, myself, have traveled to Istanbul and found it to be a city with a “superabundance of life”. It is certainly a fascinating city, being the only one in the world bridging two continents, as well as being the fourth most populated city in the world. Unfortunately, I was only in Turkey for a short time when I was about thirteen years old, but I remember just feeling….happy/great/comfortable there. I remember friendly faces and a profusion of color…a warmth in the air… (which of course seems like a superficial rendering of such a dynamic city, but these are descriptions that are more than a rhetorical proto-call, they are simply the only way I can describe that which was felt more than seen.)

Reading Jackson’s description of Istanbul made me wonder, ‘what does constitute a city’s “physiology”’? Is it the people? I must say, this reminded me of Beirut, Lebanon, the city where my family’s from. I had traveled to Beirut the same summer I traveled to Turkey, and I felt that same sense of “warmth” and vibrancy despite the actual ruble surrounding me from past wars. Beirut, Lebanon

Beirut has gone through so much strife, and yet, several publications rank Beirut among their top 10 travel destinations for 2009. Even the New York Times ranked Beirut number one of its 44 places to visit, boldly stating, “With a recent (though perhaps tenuous) detente keeping the violence in check, the capital of Lebanon is poised to reclaim its title as the Paris of the Middle East.”

Sure Beirut has the swank restaurants, designer shopping, hip club scene and underground jazz joints, which these publications duly note for their skeptical readers, but I think it’s more than that. Beirut is very much a city characterized by a joie de vivre attitude, an energy, an attitude of living life to the fullest that gives it such a strong character.

Thus, I truly believe that, as Jackson stated, urban life can create its own forms and not the other way around, or in other words (in my own interpretation), that a city’s charm can surpass its physical nature.

Loos Haus

J.B. Jackson critiqued modern architecture, but he wasn’t trying to replace the architecture of the 1950s with an older, specific style. He wanted architecture to be formed in recognition of present societal needs, and he wanted space to be organized in a way that would enhance domestic and social life.

Jackson wrote that buildings should not be considered art, like pieces of sculpture. Instead, buildings are structures designed for human use. They are three-dimensional compositions, and their interior spaces are as important as their exterior masses. Buildings are intended for actual clients who hold clear notions of what they want. Architects may have been creating dwellings in the International Style for the wealthy, but American housing developments reflected the average homeowner's desire for convenience and individuality. Americans choose houses that serve to accommodate their families' needs as they define them, rather than reflecting a utopian modern vision.

I’m confused though…..he critiques modern architecture (ie. Le Corbusier), and calls them “Ridiculous, Intellectual architecture”, and yet he doesn’t like architecture to be considered art. Wouldn’t art be the antithesis of “intellectual” architecture? Adolf Loos thought of ornamentation as criminal - not for abstract moral reasons, but because of the economics of labor and wasted materials in modern industrial civilization. Adolf Loos argued that because ornament was no longer an important manifestation of culture, the worker dedicated to its production could not be paid a fair price for his labor. Thus, didn’t he think of the ‘present’ social/cultural situation, which would place him on Jackson’s “good list”?

Lakewood,CA d. J.Waldie’s Holy Land is a poetic memoir of a place reconciled between what is personal and what is public. In the same way author Marshall McLuhan presents his fragmented content to resemble the TV age he speaks of, and the way John Berger provides his readers with large font, spacing, and a wealth of images to solidify his points and garner credibility, Waldie provides us with content formed within a grid-like structure to provide his readers with the freedom to dive into their own nostalgic ideas of home. With an intimate recollection of his childhood in Lakewood, California, where he lived all his life, he challenges the harsh critics of suburbia. He does this effectively by presenting a dynamic relationship between a family and their cherished settlement. The rich history he provides us, among his reflections, and furthermore, the physical spaces in his texts that gave us the ability to conjure up our own connections to “home”, help him effectively alleviate the suburban “situation”. The book ends with Waldie stating that if he does move somewhere else, he‘d “go looking for a different kind of solitude. If solitude is an aspect of his neighborhood that he truly cherished, than the sense of “community” which Kunstler consistently argues is an important element lacking in ‘suburbia’, places both of their critiques on separate wavelengths. Waldie’s text, in a sense, transforms a generalization to an individual preference.

We see that unlike Kunstler, Waldie gives responsibility to the inhabitants. In the book’s ending “Conversation” chapter, he says that the town has certainly changed from what it once used to be (during his childhood) and states that “The failures as a place are corrected by those living here…” although according to him, now there is a greater effort needed by the inhabitants to make up for these failures.