As with fashion, the architecture of Prada Tokyo Aoyama, Japan, embodies the relationship between spectacle and spectator, between the structure and its visitor. At Prada, international shoppers, hip apparel, and innovative architecture are boldly on display, ready for consumption.
In June, LACMA invited select visitors to marvel at their nearly finished $750 million museum. Of this project by Pritzker-honored, Swiss architect, Peter Zumthor, celebration and applause accompanied uneasiness and doubt.
Over time, architects have appeared in hundreds of movies and TV shows—from Paul Newman to Tom Hanks, Michelle Pfeiffer to Sharon Stone, Keanu Reeves to Elliot Page. But this architect trope is rarely integral to the story. With the 2024 film, The Brutalist, we finally have a movie with an architect being an architect. But I raise an eyebrow or two.
It’s not something I usually do—review a book, that is. Critically speaking, I wouldn’t call this a book review. It is more of an architectural observation. Reading and experiencing Mark Z. Danielewski’s 2000 debut novel, House of Leaves, is an encounter through space and time. Yes, a physical phenomenon—much more than simply turning pages.
Please enjoy part 3, excerpts that conclude my podcast with host Josh Cooperman, “The Rhythm of Architecture.” Josh begins, “We’re kind of at this intersection between what is and what is possible. What’s so great about architecture is you can look at something that has been created 75, 100, 500 years ago and find something that is relevant for today. Good ideas transcend time.”
In a world of architectural iteration and imitation—where ideas are too prevalent through the influential forces of media—it is rare to find a project that is the exception to the rule. In Kyoto, Japan, the Garden of Fine Arts is a unique museum simply for one reason: It has no roof.
