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My Concrete Heart
Penetrating thoughts about an elliptical structure
On July 5 we posted Matt Mussey of The Cool Hunter's thoughtful piece on the Antonino Cardillo Ellipse 1501 House: "But, …there comes a time when we're not quite sure. And if we don't like it, why are we telling you about it? This new house designed by Antonino Cardillo has stumped us good and proper. Is it just another vacuous interior that looks an awful lot like a museum? Or is it a very shrewd example of how shapes and colors interact when placed next to each other?"
At some point Mussey asks, "Where do all the people go?" It's a great question.
More photos on The Cool Hunter's post reveal just how ginormous Cardillo's house is. It appears to breathe: to swell outward and try to escape its own contours. It is a dwelling in which everything is built on a massive scale. The windows are oversized gashes, cut into walls that seem to refuse to accept the interruption.
In this all-concrete interior, with its mass of aggressive, monochromatic curves and volumes, it's hard to imagine anyone having any more presence than the meek figures used to populate scale models. An irritable but brilliant architectural photographer once quipped to me, "Architecture isn't for people. Architecture is for architects. The people are just there to provide a sense of scale."
This was in the late ‘80s: We were photographing the pomo vaingloriousness of a new financial building in midtown Manhattan—for a giant book of glossy photos on buildings in New York (probably to be bought by dwellers of financial buildings). "This building leaves me cold," the security guard told us as we watched the sun head to its ideal golden spot, "but I like watching the sunset."
At some point Mussey asks, "Where do all the people go?" It's a great question.
More photos on The Cool Hunter's post reveal just how ginormous Cardillo's house is. It appears to breathe: to swell outward and try to escape its own contours. It is a dwelling in which everything is built on a massive scale. The windows are oversized gashes, cut into walls that seem to refuse to accept the interruption.
In this all-concrete interior, with its mass of aggressive, monochromatic curves and volumes, it's hard to imagine anyone having any more presence than the meek figures used to populate scale models. An irritable but brilliant architectural photographer once quipped to me, "Architecture isn't for people. Architecture is for architects. The people are just there to provide a sense of scale."
This was in the late ‘80s: We were photographing the pomo vaingloriousness of a new financial building in midtown Manhattan—for a giant book of glossy photos on buildings in New York (probably to be bought by dwellers of financial buildings). "This building leaves me cold," the security guard told us as we watched the sun head to its ideal golden spot, "but I like watching the sunset."
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