But do you know who has the best business cards? That’s right, Wile E. Coyote:

I should just copy his.

So I apologize for neglecting catasterist.com lately; I probably won’t do more than an occasional short post for the next month while I find the excellent, interesting, highly-paid job that is out there waiting for me. But that doesn’t mean nothing else is going on—no! I’m still working on the Fulfillment Center, and although the New New York Photography Corps show is no longer up at Governors Island, there is some possibility it may move to Europe, and it may even become a book. Updates as they arrive.

So if you want to hire me, or just want to suggest an excellent, cool, interesting architecture firm I should apply to, let me know! I’m hoping to find a small firm, but I may broaden my horizons, maybe even beyond architecture to other areas of design. And even if you don’t have any suggestions, wish me luck!

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PS: Here’s a site that’s been making me happy during this somewhat chaotic transitional period:  Things Organized Neatly. Isn’t it satisfying to look at things organized neatly? I think so.

The thing I recently found myself very much needing an outlet for is drawing. I would like to be a better drawer, and the act of drawing is a slow, immersing meditation on a thing, which can be a tall cool glass of water during the long hot days of overcaffeination and REM living. I was doing a little drawing at work (just some graphics for a map), which is something I rarely do, and I realized how much I miss it. I used to carry a sketchbook around, but I haven’t done that lately. So I started a drawing blog. And what better thing to draw than things I like and want? They’re a bit challenging, since I don’t have the thing in front of me but have to work off of other people’s images, but it’s pleasing to celebrate something I like and think about its shape and color.

The new project is also about desire, delayed gratification, and anticipation. As a trained designer I care deeply about the forms of the things around me, but as an underpaid architect I don’t always have the ability to buy the most wonderful things right away. So I will channel all that into some nice drawings.

It’s The Fulfillment Center because the drawings are for sale for the price it would cost to acquire the subject of the drawing. So if someone* buys the drawing of the Tremont Nail Sample Set, I will mail off a print and then use the funds acquired to go buy the awesome display of the history of nails and post of photo of the acquisition. So in addition to the art aspect,  it’s also an elaborate trade, and a project about value and money and possibility. (You can see all the drawings arrayed on the archive page.)

Mostly, though, it’s just about the drawing. Drawing is fun! You should try it!

* Unfortunately, close friends and family are not eligible to participate, except during periods of exemption including major holidays and birthdays.

Her words have sometimes been used to justify urban design practices that I strongly disagree with, but I don’t blame her for that. She asked the right questions, it’s up to us to find the right answers.

Jane Jacobs moved from New York to Toronto in 1968 (partly to protect her draft-aged sons), but clearly continued to think about the city where she developed her urban ideas and ideals. She often comes to mind when I see my elderly neighbors on the stoop (‘eyes on the street’ make it safer, she wrote), when I see a good mix of uses in a neighborhood, or whenever I see a lively, healthy place. But she is particularly in my mind as I try to grapple with the changes in my own neighborhood. The other night I was biking down the fantastic new bike lane on Kent and nearly got knocked over by people unloading an immense flat screen TV from an even more immense SUV to take into one of the huuuuuge new condo towers along the water. And with some sadness I realized that the people with the TV probably fit into the new Williamsburg better than I do.

I certainly hope my realization was wrong, and there are definitely still parts of the neighborhood I love, but the character has shifted as the condos (many now converted to apartments) slowly fill up as the economy slowly sputters back to life. Change, I well know, is an integral part of any living city and its neighborhoods, and as an architect I know that my whole profession is predicated on taking something away: trees, an old building, or even empty space. Before the building plans come the demo plans. But it’s important to direct and control change, or things will fall apart. As I look around this neighborhood I wonder how long the infrastructure will last. The L train is more crowded each day, often to the point I worry someone will get hurt. The sewer lines, I can only imagine, must be strained, like the water mains, and let’s not even talk about the electric grid. Yes, there are some fantastic new resources like parks and bike lanes, but the less glamorous stuff and the small but critical details seem to have been largely overlooked.

And so back to the letter. Jane Jacobs could see (as could anyone who looked) that the recent massive re-zoning of Williamsburg  and Greenpoint was not well thought out and was not based on sound principals. And in this letter (reprinted in the Williamsburg Greenpoint News+Arts) she tells Mayor Bloomberg exactly that a year before she died (you can click on the letter to enlarge):

Not everything there is to my taste, but there are all kinds of amazing embroidery projects, from baseball cards to bar codes. But my favorite by far are the architectural drawings of Peter Crawley. Simple black lines of embroidery on paper, they’re crisp and minimal, but still a bit fuzzy and handmade. Perfect! Check out his site for more great drawings, including a typographical drawing that I’m also pretty keen on. It almost makes me want to take up embroidery again, something I haven’t really done since I finished that rooster potholder in about fifth grade…

Fedora’s is (until Sunday) nothing fancy, but everything special. It is presided over by Fedora herself: aged but enduringly charismatic, and tonight—as every night she makes an appearance—her entrance was greeting with applause, because she is a star. Not the kind who headlines movies or rock shows, but a star nonetheless.

I will say some things even though I am in no position to say anything about Fedora’s because—and this breaks my heart—I only went there a few times. I remember reading before I went there the first time that it was a gay bar full of regulars, and I somehow got the idea I wouldn’t have been welcome. I couldn’t have been more wrong, and I have rarely felt so welcomed anywhere.

Fedora’s has everything that matters: warmth and welcome, casual acceptance and lively history, neighborhood roots and enduring style. It’s the kind of place where you can’t help but engage in conversations with people sitting next to you at the small bar, you can’t help but bicker with the bartenders (and please forgive any typos or grammatical mistakes—G., that second gin & tonic was a doozy), and you can’t leave without a smile on your face. You can’t build that or decorate it in; you can only inspire it if you are the right kind of person.

Fedora certainly deserves a rest after all these years, so I can’t say I’m sorry to see her choose to close the place up, and I’m not a fan of eulogies, obituaries, or dirges (and make no mistake, Fedora herself is very much alive—she even had the temerity to thank me when I acknowledged her on the way out), because I would rather celebrate what continues to be good rather than waste too much time on what has gone. So I will just take a moment now to raise a glass in celebration of goodwill, of history, and of the passage of time, and in acknowledgment of missed opportunities. May I learn from my mistakes.

Mostly, though, I would like to thank Fedora for creating such a remarkable place that in just a few visits taught me what a place should be, if you know what I mean. I think it must have inspired more extraordinary places (how could it not?)—not in the same place or doing things the same way, but extraordinary all the same. So all that is left is for me to seek them out and remember not to take them for granted.

Yes, it’s true: I convinced Google Maps to include the name of the John Jay Byrne Memorial Bridge (though ‘Memorial’ was left out, presumably for reasons of space). The bridge itself is tiny (particularly by New York City standards) and its corresponding real estate on Google Maps so small you have to be at least at the fourth-from-largest magnification level to see the name, but still I’m pretty pleased with myself. It’s nice to know that I can affect something as enormous, and enormously useful, as Google Maps just by sending an email.

I’ve also added the Candela Structures to Google Maps. Finally! It always bugged me that they were missing. My edits are as yet unverified, but I can only hope that the Google verifiers will smile kindly on the addition of such a cool landmark to their map.

OK, maybe I’m a little defeated by the heat—or not defeated, but slowed down a bit. But I’m still in love with the expansive space of summer, the bike rides, the adventures. Summer may be a stinky, sticky, sweaty beast (especially here in the concrete jungle), but it’s a stinky, sticky, sweaty beast I want to hug and give a big sloppy kiss. Though I wouldn’t mind if the heat island effect were tamed a bit with more cool & green roofs. New York is a tricky city to design for, though—a cool roof doesn’t melt snow and ice as well, and we’ll certainly have plenty of that come February. If only we could build deciduous buildings. Until we figure that out, though, I’m just happy New York has planted so many new street trees in the last few years. They’ve transformed many blocks from summertime deserts to oases of shade. Street trees are the best. Give them some love if you can by watering, keeping dogs away, planting flowers to shade and protect their tiny patches of soil, and avoiding stepping in that soil (soil compaction keeps necessary water from reaching their roots through the tiny opening in the pavement.)

I am loving these summery little prints of paintings (all based on photos) by Etsian Leah Giberson. They help me remember what’s so great about summer when I occasionally get cranky and crazy like everyone else in this overheated metropolis:

I think I need to buy one…  I just have to decide which one.

I hope you’re all staying cool and eating plenty of ice cream. And if you’re short in the ice cream department, just give me a call and I’ll bring some over—my new ice cream maker has been getting a real workout for the past month.