Olympic Confusion

I didn't like the idea of the surge of cash at others expense that surrounded the Olympics, but when the time came, I was far too excited for the games to exercise my cynicism during those few weeks.

As the hot dirty London sun beat down on the some 8 million occupants of this glorious capital city, we received 450'000 extras during the run of the games, with - get this - 500'000 daily visitors. Oh, wow. London got steamy with excitement. I admit, myself, along with numerous others, were a bit frightened at how busy it might be. I imagined London to turn into the first 4 chapters of a good dystopian novel. Dystopia was nowhere to be found.

The opening ceremony knocked my colleagues and I out of our seats and onto the tables. We had a screening in our office, which was accompanied by beers, laughing and excessive cheering.

I enjoyed cycling through Olympic lanes on day one, because I felt like I could. I don't have a license plate, and you can't catch me TFL. Naughty?

My excitement levels finally went through the roof when I got myself to an Olympic event. I was even happier that I could share it with So Cal and Nor Cal. We woke up excited, ran around into each other’s rooms saying everything and nothing and finally left feeling outfit appropriate. I couldn't believe that after the cynicism I exercised in the spring after agreeing wildly with Ian Sinclair and Ghost Milk, that I was giddy and literally running towards the Olympic themed goodness. Who cares about Glaxosmithkline? Who cares about that awful logo? To be a part of the Olympics, as a spectator was just thrilling. I asked my mother to watch out for me on TV. So well organised, so much fun, so much enthusiasm! Most commendable were the London 2012 staff. They were delightful. I, along with the rest of the city’s' occupants were pleasantly surprised with the way that the games were handled. Bravo London.

I'm not a sports fan. I watched Phelps and Lochte thrash it, I was surprised when I caught myself off the chair (Californian influence no doubt). I was almost tearful for the Yorkshire brothers and big up GB and the cycling massive! The spirit of the games was just unavoidable. Let's not forget the medal table! My identity crisis showed its true colours when I bragged about Iran beating most other nations and then after a beer or two yelling 'GB' in a most laddish manner.

I made absolute sure that I watched the closing ceremony, even though I was visiting my Brother in Spain at the time. The most watched televised program ever in the US. Lenon brought a tear to my eye, everything was perfect. Everything was spectacular. I love the olympics and I love London

Naturally, the return of girl power only induced more serotonin and subsequently, squealing - much to my brother’s surprise and entertainment.

Hooray London 2012!

Good luck Rio, you have an awful lot to live up to.. Team GB and I will wait for you to spice up our lives.

The New KR

Formerly in my abbreviations bank, the KR was the Kings Road, SW3. No more. I grew a little weary of Chelsea after a whatever sort of year where I lived with an outrageously fun loving gorgeous blonde. She was all about the good times and I was the architecture grinch who stayed at university late pretending to work whilst my friends sipped on watermelon martinis. 

It wasn't just architecture that made me realise this part of town wasn't for me. The mummies and the nannies made for frustrating living. I don't have a nanny, I don't drive a Chelsea tractor and my prospective lover isn't a distant cheating banker. I like casual / crappy paper cup coffees, my beautiful bike and sometimes I drink beer from a can. KR = Kensal Rise. At the top of the much beloved ladbroke grove, KR is just way cool (I love notting hill too might I add). 

KR has this grubby chic feel where the bars are packed with arty folk that read and drink delicious cocktails from jam jars at the same time, this happens at The Shop. There's a pub / club called Paradise which is100% entertaining, a diner, called  The Diner and an overground. What more do you need?

Don't get me wrong, I still love wearing heels, I still love blazers and I still love getting my nails done - but it's just in a different part of town, one where I'm much more comfortable - but I do wish there were a Waitrose near by.

KENSAL RISE ON THE MAP

FUN LOVING BLONDE, CHELSEA

Over all, quite good.

My First Love

Lets rewind time to April 2006, I’m on an uneasy train off to an interview at Downing College, Cambridge. I'd been in London for a few months contemplating paints and pencils as part of my art foundation at Byam Shaw. I’m preparing myself for the classic questions, “who do you aspire to”, “why architecture” etc. I’m frantically looking through this terrible book, a glorified ABC’s of the architectural world. I’m 19 and I don’t have a clue.

What stood out and in this book then, I understand to be fundamental now. Clean lines and space. 5 years later and I can’t shake this one perfect, one genius, fundamentalist. I look to him all the time. I think about him all the time. When I drink and get chatty, I find myself reaching for my phone to prove my point, why he is so wonderful, why it matters, why I think he changed the world. I know there are/were equally adept fish in the sea and I know there’s better and more groundbreaking, but Mies van der Rohe captivated me and I’ve never really gotten over it.

I walked around his national gallery in Berlin, running my fingertips along his plastered surfaces, ignoring the art and admiring the walls - trying desperately to connect. Trying to understand why I felt so emotional in this simple, elegant gallery. I put my excitability down to the thought that one day I might make someone feel like this. I love him.



LUDWIG MIES VAN DER ROHE, NEUE NATIONALGALERIE 1968

SIT ON IT - ICONIC - BARCELONA CHAIR IN THE GALLERY

 

In 1968 the Neue Nationalgalerie in Berlin opened. The steel framed glazed pavilion sits a top the well considered, perfectly lit gallery below. Mies loved a floating building. The gallery is large and breathtaking. In spite of awareness that this building is ageing in the corners, the maturity of Mies' iconic style is prevalent, rejuvenating and, always inspiring. This is architecture standing the test of time. 

California (collectedly) sees Mies as modern. If Mies is modern now, what is our generation? What is modern? More importantly, who is the pioneer of our modern age? I've just finished reading an introduction about modern architecture that was published in the 1930’s. Modern then is modern now. Modernity in architecture is reflected by the technologies available. The process of architecture is assisted greatly by knowing what we can achieve and how. Peter Behrens and his turbine hall, the first modern building of our time? The sudden development and understanding of steel frames and reinforced concrete allowed modern architecture to truly begin. Behrens inspired his apprentice Mies, the way that Mies might inspire us. Or perhaps it is Behrens and Mies that inspire us? If modern architects are the now modern architects, then future of our architectural category is lost. We're losing it to the real modern pioneers, repeating the past and testing safe boundaries. We should naturally turn to what they turned to: technological availability and impeccable taste. What is our architectural era?

PETER BEHRENS, TURBINE HALL 1910



LUDWIG MIES VAN DER ROHE, 860 - 880 LAKESHORE DRIVE 1949



AND I DON'T EVEN LIKE CIGARS



[aside] Cambridge and Anahita didn't gel. At all.

pics courtesy of myself and google

24hr - "military time"

Welcome to America, where the food is bountiful, the lifestyle varies and it's either AM or PM. 

I live with two rad Californian girls. One from the south and one from the north. They do the 4th of July, beers and good times. Super typical. They also do a lot of American-English. Sometimes, obviously, I understand them. Sometimes I don't want to. 

This evening, I learnt about "military time". What is 23:25 to me is incomprehensible to them. They "didn't learn it like that" and they aren't even willing to learn! Flying the flag solo over here for the rest of the world. North California (Nor Cal) is all giggles about how she couldn't remember which numbers meant which time and it's making me laugh, South California (So Cal) is trying to justify herself as to why she doesn't need to know "militarty time" which isn't improving their argument and frustrating me more. The world understands the time, but North America understands something else. Circles went by and we were in them. It's only 2 sets of 11 numbers paired together. Come on! 

After circling around  - hours go by and sadly, it's still being called "military time" and they refuse to understand that military time is used outside of the military. Long live the 24hr clock. 

USA 1 - AC 0

Battle lost. 

(I will be keeping track of our triumphs and failures)

You, hello there

Welcome to (the) LAW. 
We are now, Living Anahitas' World.

I'd like to be ideal and write down everything that I think is worthwhile reading and then at some point, re-reading. It's probably important to remember things from the everyday that you think might not have been important enough to write down. Error. Living Anahitas' World will seek out to note down the noteworthy and the memorable. I will document thoughts I have about architecture and how it is a fundamental part of our world and how ones environment can heavily impact their behaviour - and why cats are cute. (the) LAW will slowly become a doctrine which I will look back on one day and make a collective account of why, what, where, when and who. The blog will be somewhat erratic, indicative of my personality.

There will be thoughts,
There will be stories,
There will be buildings,
There will be architectural greats,
There will be my view of London,
There will be cats,
There will be pictures and there will be good times.