Bill & Nada’s “Always Open”

bill-nadas-portrait.jpg

Bill & Nada’s was an unassuming Salt Lake institution, a 24-hour diner [“we never close”] that sat on a downtown corner for decades, providing eggs & brains, pancakes with coconut syrup, hot coffee and a haven for folks who didn’t care for the uptight, corporate-flavored fuss of Denny’s or Village Inn.
While it’s been years since Nada passed away, Bill and his second wife ran the place until a few years ago; it closed down as giant bigbox retail stores moved into the neighborhood.
The December night Bill & Nada’s closed, I went through with my DV camera, documenting what details and ambience I could, for later reference. [I have a script somewhere about the restaurant]. I wanted to be able to recreate the counter, the booths, the big wheel, the murals [like the one above, Bill outfitted for a parade. He showed and rode horses a lot over the years.]
Far more interesting is longtime customer Bert Singleton’s Bill & Nada’s tribute website. He’s been collecting pictures of Bill & family, and of as many of the regulars at the counter as he can round up. He also has a picture of the place as it looks now. Apparently, the business that was set to take the restaurant site over never took off. Rather than being razed and erased from the map as people figured, the building has stuck around, now never open, a sad jog to the memories of the family of strangers who grew around it.

Bert’s page is always open.
[billandnadas.com]
Previously: Bill & Nada’s Cafe

Who Lost Gordon Bunshaft’s Travertine House?

bunshaft_travertine_house.jpg
Modernist architect Gordon Bunshaft’s widow willed his exquisite travertine-clad Georgica Pond home–his only domestic design– and their carefully installed collection of modern art to MoMA when he died in 1994.
MoMA sold it to Martha Stewart in 1994 without any restrictions or covenants. Stewart, caught up in the Minimalist revival of the day, hired John Pawson to redo it.
Several years later the house, a gutted shambles on the brink of a poorly conceived expansion and with some of its travertine scavenged for Stewart’s Bedford, NY kitchen, was transferred to Stewart’s daughter Alexis, who put it on the market in 2004.
It sold to retro textile guy Donald Maharam, who disingenuously declared the house an unrestorable ruin and razed it in July.
The culpability compounds with each set of hands that touched this property.
Bunshaft could have put covenants on it before willing it to MoMA, but didn’t, possibly on the assumption that the Museum would, by the nature of its mission, take steps to preserve this important design.
MoMA could have put restrictions on the house when it sold it to Stewart but didn’t. MoMA’s not in the house business, so the idea that MoMA woulda shoulda kept it is naive at best. As is any idea that Bunshaft could’ve intended for MoMA to do anything but benefit from the gift of the house.
But still, the operating principles here were fiduciary, not curatorial or conservationist; and yet the “understanding” with Stewart and the publicity around it at the time, points to a perceived responsibility beyond merely maximizing the museum’s return from a donation. Q: Did the Museum set aside the proceeds from the sale for future acquisitions? “Art-for-art,” as befits a deaccession? I highly doubt it. If not, however the sale was presented–or spun– in the press, on the museum’s ledger, the house was a financial asset, not a work of art.
Stewart could have left the house as is, but didn’t. Can anyone be surprised by that? Martha Stewart is a hack. The queen of hacks. It was her penury and negligence that let the house deteriorate. She’s lucky that an over-inflated sense of your own aesthetic superiority leading to the decimation of a modernist landmark isn’t a crime, or she’d still be in jail.
Ever since the sale, MoMA said it had a “good faith agreement” with Stewart to preserve the house, which was a stripped, weed-covered shell when her lawsuits with the house’s next door neighbor were finally settled.
Pawson’s a frickin’ hack, but he coulda–no, he was just Stewart’s hack.
Alexis… this was a wealth transfer mechanism, nothing more.
Maharam’s a hack, and a spineless hack at that. He could have restored the house if he cared to, instead he hides behind the excuse that it was beyond help. The incremental expense of doing so is approximately zero compared to the price of the land. And it’s not like he can build anything else; wetlands zoning restricts him to Bunshaft’s original footprints (and whatever Stewart/Pawson managed to get approved.)
Did someone mention approvals? That’d be the East Hampton town board who sat by while one of the few interesting feats of architecture in the whole place was modified and destroyed. But then, why should important modernist design get any better treatment in the potato fields of the Hamptons than they do on the corner of Central Park?
In LA, three of Frank Lloyd Wright’s concrete block houses hover on the brink of ruin. Important corporate headquarters–including one of Bunshaft’s–get redeveloped with impunity. Modernist preservation groups like Docomomo whimper to no effect. How many 20th century landmarks must be lost before something changes?
Without any explicit agreements anywhere regarding its preservation, without any laws, zoning, landmark designations or other institutional protections, and in the face of the Hamptons real estate juggernaut, the house was doomed before Mrs. Bunshaft’s assistant ever called Frank Campbell.
I used to sail and kayak on Georgica, often with the express purpose of seeing Bunshaft’s art and the luxurious simplicity of his house. So excuse me if I seem especially pissed and despondent.
Martha’s Touch [nationaltrust.org via archinect]
Also: The Architecture Newspaper’s earlier coverage [archpaper.com, includes pic]
Disrepair At Martha’s [the easthampton star, 2002]
HC&G says MoMA chose Stewart’s bid over her Georgica neighbor, developer Harry Macklowe, on the understanding that she would do righter by the house.
[11/05 update: An earlier version of this post criticized the Preservation article as cribbed from previously published accounts of the Bunshaft house saga. This speculation was prompted by similarities in quotes and by a dangling reference to a “Krinsky,” Bunshaft’s biographer who goes otherwise unmentioned in the Preservation piece. The writer of that piece has since contacted me–presumably because I unfairly called him a hack–and provided further information that shows my purely text-based speculations were incorrect. The Krinsky thing was a copy editing oversight; and guess what, the same people talking about the same thing tend to do it in similar ways, so no surprise if their quotes sound similar.
Anyway, my apologies to the writer, an innocent bystander who got hit when I started flinging all those “hack”s around.]

Atelier Bow-Wow House, Blog

bow_wow_lot.jpgThe awesome and ingenious Tokyo architecture firm Atelier Bow-Wow (the Japanese translation, Atelier Wan, sounds nicely like “1,” too) is keeping a blog of the combination house/studio they’re building for themselves in Naka Meguro, a central, dense, and expensive section of Tokyo. The lot they found was affordable only because it’s tiny and enclosed on all sides. Still, it’s zoned for more than 660 sqm, (including underground) of live/work space.
Because of their shape–a square-ish lot blocked in and invisible from the street, and connected to it by only a narrow passageway or easement–plots like this are called flagpole sites. The site poses just the kind of severe challenges that AB-W has specialized in addressing, though.
To fit their live/work program into the envelope of the building, they have integrated and jig-sawed the home and studio spaces together, and they seem to have managed to carve out incredible space, light, privacy, and even some views on a lot that looks like something out of a Gordon Matta-Clark exhibit. Of course, it’s all in Japanese, so good luck with that excite.co.jp translator…
House & Atelier Bow-Wow [via archinect]
Tokyo House: projects for flagpole, eel, and box sites

Atelier Bow-Wow House, Blog

bow_wow_lot.jpgThe awesome and ingenious Tokyo architecture firm Atelier Bow-Wow (the Japanese translation, Atelier Wan, sounds nicely like “1,” too) is keeping a blog of the combination house/studio they’re building for themselves in Naka Meguro, a central, dense, and expensive section of Tokyo. The lot they found was affordable only because it’s tiny and enclosed on all sides. Still, it’s zoned for more than 660 sqm, (including underground) of live/work space.
Because of their shape–a square-ish lot blocked in and invisible from the street, and connected to it by only a narrow passageway or easement–plots like this are called flagpole sites. The site poses just the kind of severe challenges that AB-W has specialized in addressing, though.
To fit their live/work program into the envelope of the building, they have integrated and jig-sawed the home and studio spaces together, and they seem to have managed to carve out incredible space, light, privacy, and even some views on a lot that looks like something out of a Gordon Matta-Clark exhibit. Of course, it’s all in Japanese, so good luck with that excite.co.jp translator…
House & Atelier Bow-Wow [via archinect]
Tokyo House: projects for flagpole, eel, and box sites

John Powers-a-Day at Virgil de Voldere Gallery

john_powers_virgil.jpg
john_powers_virgil2.jpg
When I first met John Powers five+ years ago, he was like a Tibetan monk with a pile of sand. Only instead of sand, he had thousands of 1-inch woodblocks, which he transformed into a huge, impossibly intricate, mandala-like sculpture that sprawled across the floor of Exit Art’s gallery. Every day throughout the exhibit, he scooted around on a little skateboard chair, replicating and altering dense patterns of blocks as he went. The work wasn’t “finished” when the show ended, and he swept the whole thing away, but that, I think was part of the point.
Now, in his latest show at Virgil de Voldere Gallery in the Chelsea Arts Building, Powers is reconfiguring hundreds? thousands? of white, Sol Lewitt-like grid modules into a new sculpture every day. The gallery’s website has pictures of the ones you’ve missed, but you can also stop by until Oct. 9th to watch new pieces come together.
John Powers at Virgil de Voldere through Sun., Oct. 9 [virgilgallery.com]

John Powers-a-Day at Virgil de Voldere Gallery

john_powers_virgil.jpg
john_powers_virgil2.jpg
When I first met John Powers five+ years ago, he was like a Tibetan monk with a pile of sand. Only instead of sand, he had thousands of 1-inch woodblocks, which he transformed into a huge, impossibly intricate, mandala-like sculpture that sprawled across the floor of Exit Art’s gallery. Every day throughout the exhibit, he scooted around on a little skateboard chair, replicating and altering dense patterns of blocks as he went. The work wasn’t “finished” when the show ended, and he swept the whole thing away, but that, I think was part of the point.
Now, in his latest show at Virgil de Voldere Gallery in the Chelsea Arts Building, Powers is reconfiguring hundreds? thousands? of white, Sol Lewitt-like grid modules into a new sculpture every day. The gallery’s website has pictures of the ones you’ve missed, but you can also stop by until Oct. 9th to watch new pieces come together.
John Powers at Virgil de Voldere through Sun., Oct. 9 [virgilgallery.com]

Cinema Paramilitaristo

baghdad_filmfest.jpg

Despite the ravages of war and the censorship imposed by local religious authorities, a lovable young scamp in a rubble-strewn town finds solace, even hope, in the movies.
If only there was a kindly old projectionist to take the place of the boy’s father, who’d been disappeared at Abu Ghraib…
Defying Terror, Filmgoers Attend a Festival in Baghdad [nyt]
While half of me says, “Congratulations, Karen Hughes,” the other half wonders what the story is in the two movie theaters still operating in Baghdad.

Cinema Paramilitaristo

baghdad_filmfest.jpg

Despite the ravages of war and the censorship imposed by local religious authorities, a lovable young scamp in a rubble-strewn town finds solace, even hope, in the movies.
If only there was a kindly old projectionist to take the place of the boy’s father, who’d been disappeared at Abu Ghraib…
Defying Terror, Filmgoers Attend a Festival in Baghdad [nyt]
While half of me says, “Congratulations, Karen Hughes,” the other half wonders what the story is in the two movie theaters still operating in Baghdad.

Guggenheim? Good Luck With That

Tyler goes all Observer on Thomas Krens’ butt, while giving new Guggenheim director Lisa Dennison a chance to share her vision for the credibility-starved museum: “I would like the person on the street at Pastis to be able to name our top five curators.”
Personally, after seeing Dennison threaten to deaccession the work of an artist who criticised the the way she installed it, [“Well, if he doesn’t want to be in the museum’s collection, then…”] I’m sure we’ll be brunching over the Guggenheim for years to come.

Krens Relinquishes The Ramps!
Ms. Dennison To Feed Starved Gugg
[observer.com]

Guggenheim? Good Luck With That

Tyler goes all Observer on Thomas Krens’ butt, while giving new Guggenheim director Lisa Dennison a chance to share her vision for the credibility-starved museum: “I would like the person on the street at Pastis to be able to name our top five curators.”
Personally, after seeing Dennison threaten to deaccession the work of an artist who criticised the the way she installed it, [“Well, if he doesn’t want to be in the museum’s collection, then…”] I’m sure we’ll be brunching over the Guggenheim for years to come.

Krens Relinquishes The Ramps!
Ms. Dennison To Feed Starved Gugg
[observer.com]

Penguin Filmmakers Behaving Badly

Dateline, Paris [of course]:

In Hollywood, meanwhile, the jockeying for credit on March of the Penguins was taking place. Last month, Jordan Roberts, a film director turned writer, claimed credit in a Los Angeles Times article for essentially “re-envisioning” the film by writing the narration and substituting a new soundtrack.
Mr. Jacquet scoffs at that view. “There are millions of people around the planet who like the French version, my version,” he said with a laugh. And like the penguin stars of the movie, Mr. Jacquet has never met Mr. Roberts.

Of course, the ones that saw Roberts’ reworking of your treacly Look Who’s Talking! version have been stuffing $71 million down your gullet, Mr. Jacquet.
Compared With Their Filmmakers, the Penguins Have It Easy [nyt]