Regresar

The word return keeps popping into my head around this trip. It seems the root word tying together main lessons I gathered from my time in Santiago.

Kaz saw a tarantula.

A big group of us hiked 17km to this beautiful waterfall. It was well worth it.

Returning to South America brought a new, unexpected relationship with the city and culture we were dropped into. I felt far less giddy and nervous about the fantastic newness of this world than I was two years ago in Rio de Janeiro, and I think I saw the city clearer for it. It was wonderful to listen and talk with people with a context of Latin American city life. Bouncing my perceptions of these two great cities and people around each other in my head was a great joy, and I felt great joy in returning under different circumstances. If any young students read this, I would implore them to try and get abroad more than once in their time at school.

Kaz overlooking Valparaiso from Pablo Neruda’s back porch.

Returning back to the hotel with my best friend and roommate Kaz was a great comfort, and I am glad that I had him there to be my confidant. I think having a close friend in the larger group made it so fun to reach out to everyone else, just knowing that I had him by side. We made some amazing friends on this trip together. Returning to that feeling of fast friendship was heart-warming, and I feel honored to have such fun and bonding experiences with them. I shared some incredible views and unforgettable events with Kaz, Bryan, Rico, Megan, Carly, and several others; memories I anticipate returning to for years. Continue reading Regresar

Neruda

Pablo Neruda reminded me how to taste what you make. While visiting his house, I was moved by his life, his work, and his playfulness. He designed things, he was a brutal professionalist, and yet he wove his sensuality into all of these endeavors. Indeed, he knew it was critical to lust for life if you want your hands to shape it for others. His home was humbling in its open kitsch, its discrimination between social and meditative spaces, its fixed wide eyes to the sea.

You have to understand fictions to understand art, that spirit that design tries to dip its toes into. Neruda knew fiction as a friend. I heard he would often dress in several disguises throughout the nights of his parties. He never passed up the opportunity for a joke, though he reportedly was bad at telling them. He collected knick knacks next to heirlooms, christened his armchair “the cloud,” and collected out-of-date maps. I like to think it was for the humor, seeing them misspell and misrepresent Chile on an old English survey. He held all this deep giggle tight within him even as he designed chimneys, poems, worlds, and engaged with the global public as his country was falling apart.

Maybe it was the openness. There is something so front-facing about the man and the spaces he touched. He just held his hands and eyes open at all time, ready to shake a hand, pick up a pen, grab a waist to dance. He let things flow through him and become the wonderful creations we remember him by, he didn’t think too much, at least how we might normal imagine thinking to be. Just a clear-eyed man in a giggling house by the sea. Continue reading Neruda

Smiljan Radic: Floating Weight

We had the wonderful opportunity to visit four different Smiljan Radic projects while in Santiago that really epitomize his ability to craft space. I believe he will be one of the great South American architects of our age, because he seems to have developed a subtlest eye for the connection from detail scale to diagrammatic essence, and the sensory experience that links them. Both his crypt design for Catedral Metropolitana, Mestizo, and Museo Precolombio show how he manipulates perceptual weight to create spaces of magic.

The first thing to know about Smiljan Radic is that he loves stones. Like a lot. He had a 14 ton Andean boulder imported to London for his installment of the Serpentine Pavilion. In his Santiago projects, he consistently used boulders and perceptually heavy structures to emphasize the space created by his architecture. This floating tectonic weight makes it feel as if the ceiling was hoisted with great difficulty, much like Gaudi would often do in projects like the Colonia Guell Crypt. Radic also often places visually (or physically) heavy elements on-end, or floating, sounding a low hum of the fantastic in the heads of visitors.

This sketch of the ceiling of Mestizo explores that heavy, floating feeling that brings magic to Radic’s work.

materialitymaterialitymateriality

This divider between the holy and accessible spaces shows the magic, fragile-feeling tectonics of Radic’s details.

I believe fear is a subtle tool he employs; that fear that brews into the sublime. Because there is some sense of danger or awe in being under one of his roofs, and feeling a weight is floating above you. While it always feels safe and sturdy, his spaces feel opened or hoisted for some brief period, that they may be swallowed up or tumbled after you leave and the magic dissipates. This creates a special sense of wonder and silent awe that he employs perfectly in the Crypt and the Museo, and more casually uses in the Mestizo dining area. By using architecture to create strangely floating tectonic structures, Radic plunges his guests into the realm of the fantastic, a space where they are primed to appreciate the textural details and design excellence of his architecture.

those wood steps just slay me.

This descent into Radic’s crypt prepares guests for texture and weight, and primes them for the strange weight of the space.

Plaza de Armas

Groups in shade at Plaza de Armas.

Plaza de Armas is easily one of the most intriguing and exciting spaces I encountered in Santiago. I’ve never experienced a space that so embodied the feel of a true urban watering hole. There is an air of calm lounging in the shade of a planter or a palm with your friends, slowly watching groups mingle and stroll. At the same time, an ever-present air of impending action floats through the bright square; you always feel on your guard. That blend of feelings was invigorating.

I think it’s bound up in two main things: the plaza’s historical context, and its placement as a hub between wildly different kinds of spaces. Historically the space has been a hub of social and political action. Even through several major overhauls to the Park’s design in the last two centuries, through colonial, communist, and totalitarian regimes, the park has remained the first place for protest. While watching historical footage in the Museo de Memoria I witnessed a student protester being beaten to death by Pinochet officers. Then I heard a cathedral bell, and slowly understood that he was lying near the edge of Plaza de Armas. That blew me away, realizing the bloodshed and the chaos such a peaceful place had seen, where children splashed their hands in a fountain while church congregations sang their hymns.

The Plaza is also located at the junction of two of the most different spaces I visited while in the city. When our group first visited the plaza, we approached it by descending what I would call the “political power hill” of Santiago. This is an imaginary hill that centers on La Moneda Presidential Palace, and rings outward across downtown over seats of less- and less-direct power, the Nueva York and Paris Y Londres sitting closer to this imaginary cerro’s peak.

Plaza de Armas is located about halfway down this hill. The bottom lies at Mercado Central, perhaps most opposite La Moneda in tone, formality, and direct power that is possible. On Saturday, our small group approached the plaza from this end; climbing the hill. Here we see the informal energy of democratic mass and sociopolitical poverty that extends all the way to Plaza de Armas. It is the other half of the brilliant mix of people that fill its shaded spots and crisscross the square.

So the plaza stands at the threshold of two worlds, two times, and two classes. This hub is the physical center of a symbolic power gradient at the heart of Santiago. Like a tuned string, it is this tension that give Plaza de Armas it’s beautiful ability for both repose and revolution.

Bustamente Skatepark

Rico and I visited the Bustamente skatepark two days in a row. It was a lot of fun, and I feel like I got to connect across language with Chileans by skating beside them.

The skatepark is located within Parque Bustamente, a long swath of green space that extends south from Baquedano the metro station. The Parque is excellent! It’s about a block wide and continues for over a kilometer, with swaths of public green space, playgrounds, and even a library at it’s midpoint.

What I noticed most about the skatepark and the larger Parque surrounding it was not its design but the sheer amount of use it saw. It seems that on some days the park lighting is mostly off, save for the skatepark. However, there were still hundreds of people using the Parque, seated in small groups and talking, or participating in classes like self-defense and yoga. The skatepark had over 40 people actively skating, and over 100 more just sitting and watching.

That is absolutely unheard of at all but one of the 75+ skateparks I’ve visited in the US. Two design choices support this level of public use.
First, the park is sunken into the site, and lined with ramps that encapsulate it into a bowl, with a pleasant tree-dotted lawn hilled around. This makes the park into an arena, as entertaining to watch as to use. Second, the placement of the park in a central Parque is a simple but bold decision. It is much more common in the US to place skateparks far from the city center.

As nice as the supportive design decisions for the skatepark are, I think that the excellent use of Bustamente park comes down to culture. Over the rest of the week I hope to search for the origins of that culture of rich public life, to find how to bring it to cities and skateparks of the US.

This is Play: 4 Lessons from Parque de la Infancia

Elemental’s 2012 project for the Cerro San Cristobal area children’s park is by all practical and design considerations an excellent park. It cleverly uses a tough inclined site as an asset, and it controls shade and light for what can be a blisteringly hot area. It sets the park in a meaningful relationship to its context, stretching along the busy street it fronts when most public spaces would turn away from the traffic. But what struck me most keenly about Parque de la Infancia was how it stitched play into every part of its design. Alejandro Arevena and Elemental took to heart children’s unique ability to make meaning in places through play, and they embedded design elements that reinforced that ability. I believe this is what elevates the project from just being a quality public park to a place of real meaning and fun for kids, and what has driven it to become such a destination for families in the city.

  1. Cheap and Sturdy

This rule is easy, just keep construction simple and solid. The whole park is built with a weight and a groundedness to it. Even the treehouses feel tectonic and safe when I sat in there with at least two kid’s worth of weight. The stone used frequently throughout will age well, and I am excited to see how this park wears in over years of use and abuse.

  1. Under-Design for Imagination

This and the following point were what I saw as the magic of Parque de la Infancia. I was struck by how bare some of the spaces were, and how simple some of the activities were around the park. The slide space is one activity scaled up a hill. The treehouses are very small rooms next to each other. Not one space in this park is complex in its play; not one space has a frivilous theme like a castle or sailboat.

These bare and simple activities are actively getting out of the way of play. By being simple latticed 2×4 sheds on simple floating walkways, the treehouses let looking at and talking to other children become a game. The slide park sets up a totally free framework of play be being entirely free of theme. These spaces get out of the way of kids, and let them elaborate their meaning using their collective imagination.

Simple sheds next to each other can become a whole world of play for a group of children.

  1. Parallel Play

The slide park is an excellent novel idea. The simple slide, when multiplied up and across a hillside, becomes something like a gameboard, which allows for parallel and competitive play all over it. I can imagine a group of kids timing their slide descents together, racing up and down the top in a relay, or coming up with unique games to play together in this space. The multiplicity of access and simultaneous experience make looking over at your friends in parallel play the most common theme across the major activities of the park. This places kids, and the connections they make with others, at the heart of the space.

The slide park is like physical Chutes & Ladders.

  1. Meaningful Randomness

The parallel play described above is built on having similar experiences across all of the children playing together. All of the treehouses look identical, and slides on the same level are the same length. However, this parallelism is accented by meaningful randomness worked into the designs. This is the architecture itself engaging in play, and in turn allowing for more fun and discovery. The treehouses jut out to different lengths of walkways over the hillside, making varying lines of site and grouping between them. Every other module in the orange wall park has panels pulled out to see the next one down. It’s little variations like these that reinforce parallel play, and let the park design get out of the way and let kids really play.

Removing just a few panels every other module creates a game of looking.

Pre-Departure

Chile is going to be excellent. Having already traveled to South America before, I am very interested in studying the city in comparison to Rio de Janeiro. There are so many lines of symmetry between the two cultural capitals: an urban landscape interrupted by natural barriers, a political climate marked by active protests, and a recent breakout into the world architecture stage. I am excite to tease out the unique nuances of Santiago and Chile.

Being a senior is going to be a fun experience on this trip as well. I remember looking up to the presence of Brett and Sarah, two upperclassmen on my first study abroad, and opening up in response to their easygoing attitude. I hope that I can bring that example to the Santiago group, living that balance of discipline and fun around my peers.

Culturally, I want to investigate the country’s history of colonialism and Catholicism and its response and remixing today. I have always been interested in how the Midwest’s contemporary culture has been shaped by colonial visions of the landscape, and I have seen evidence of a similar relationship between modern-day Chile and Spanish colonialism. It is perhaps the tension of this and other forces that gravitates me to the culture of Santiago, and South America as a whole.

I can’t believe it’ll be less than a day before I’ll be looking over a plane wing on Chilean ground. I am humbled at the opportunity to commune with this group as we read the urban cursive of Santiago together.

Frank’s Bio

I’m Frank Johnson, and I’m a CRP senior from Akron, OH. I’m minoring in Architectural Studies, and participating in Honors Thesis Research. I’m excited about that: I’m exploring spatial correlation between ecological assets like tree and green space and wealth, environmental justice with geographic data.

Outside of class, I am president of a student organization called The Maker Club, where we learn DIY design and technology together. That club feeds my two passions: designing the things in my life and teaching. I am also a recent graduate of the Buckeye Leadership Fellows program, a two-year fellowship where I got to serve as part of a student-run consulting firm for corporations and nonprofits. They accept new participate in Sophomore Fall semester, so shout out to current freshman: ask me about applying next year!

I love art, architecture, reading, skateboarding, cooking, and just a mess of other things. I’m an introvert, INFP I believe, so I love wandering off and getting lost in new places, but I’ll try not to do that when we’re 4,000 miles from home. I’m really excited for my last study abroad: I had a world-shifting experience in Rio, and fell in love with South America. I’m most excited about seeing Alejandro Arevena’s work, and getting to know everyone else!

Frank’s Selfie

Frank Johnson

Hiya!

My name is Frank Johnson, and I’m a City & Regional [REDACTED].

I needed all that bio stuff I had written here for my other assignment, but I like warm green colors y’all.

Two Truths… and One Lie:

1. As of this summer my new name will be Francis Richard Johnson Noirot

2. I was a gymnast for 8 years before college

3. I can’t roll my R’s, and it makes me sad