Schwarz
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200 sf norway house via materialicious
Gentilly, home to about 47,000 people before the storm and a thin fraction of that now, is not dead. Haltingly, in disconnected pockets, this eight-square-mile quadrant north of the historic districts that line the Mississippi River is limping back to life, thanks to the struggles of its most determined former residents.
But they have had to do so largely on their own, because help from government at any level has been minimal, in their accounts. In recent weeks, some residents have reported getting checks from the state’s Road Home rebuilding program, but four-fifths of applicants have not.
Each block still contains only a handful of occupied houses. But a beachhead has been established here, a residential area critical to this city’s survival and one that before the storm was dominated by black homeowners, professionals and multigenerational citizens of New Orleans.
A similar story is unfolding in two other once-flooded family-centered neighborhoods, neither of them flashy but both equally important to this city’s future: Broadmoor, in central New Orleans, and Lakeview, in the northwestern corner, show signs of life here and there along the wounded streets. Neighbors, encouraged by the earliest post-Katrina pioneers, are moving back in.
pendleton and old hickory fabrics
No shopping carts on this site. To purchase, or if you have questions call and talk to Carole or Richard. Carole is an Artist and retired Social Worker and Richard a retired Science Teacher.
test pattern
“People who came by were absolutely fascinated,” said Cotten Alston, the Pounds’ real estate agent, “but they could never magine themselves living in it. Or they just saw it as a teardown site for a starter mansion.”
The Pounds, though, were smitten by its style, forest view and skylighted atrium. They signed a contract within three months, paying $1.15 million for the four-bedroom, 5,500-square-foot house and nearly four acres of land, knowing they’d be spending plenty more in the months to come.
Then, a few days later, they received a three-page handwritten letter from a stranger: Cecil Alexander, the house’s original architect and occupant. He was writing to express his delight that they were not going to tear the house down and to offer his help with the restoration, including the loan of original blueprints. The Pounds invited him over, and throughout the restoration — which was completed in May of 2006 and cost nearly as much as the house — Mr. Alexander regaled them with tales of the house’s engineering quirks, famous visitors and midcentury celebrity.
thick as a brick II curbusier Haus 14/15
kitten wars
start now (its ruthless!)
laughing yoga
It's early on a hot morning in May 2006, and Frank Phillips is already cursing. Standing inside a nearly gutted house in Arlington, Va., sweat darkening his long hair and white T-shirt, he casts a weary glance at the wall frames and ceiling panels yet to be dismantled. For three weeks, Phillips and his colleagues from Capstone Properties, a local construction firm, have been systematically disassembling the structure so it can be stored and reassembled later. I'm there as a board member of the Arlington Heritage Alliance (AHA), a volunteer group, to document the day's progress in a logbook. AHA had placed the house and a half-dozen others like it on its annual most-endangered list two years running, and we had supported the disassembly as part of a long effort to save the dwelling from demolition.
It hasn't been easy. The crew had taken the manual used to erect the house in 1949 and worked backward, but it didn't account for such unexpected issues as rust and asbestos. Looping a facemask over my ears, I step carefully around the piles of fiberglass insulation and loose screws on the floor to join Phillips in what was once the living room. Pointing toward the roof, he notes that it has taken multiple cans of WD-40 to loosen the dozens of rusty screws and wing nuts holding the cement board asbestos panels in place. "This [bleep] fights you every step of the way," he says. "These houses were definitely overconstructed. They were built to be tornado proof."
The object of this determined toil was a Lustron. Called "the house America's been waiting for," Lustrons were prefabricated, porcelain-enameled steel residences manufactured after World War II to house returning veterans, government workers, and middle-class families. For a brief shining moment, the weather-resistant, vermin-proof, virtually maintenance-free houses caused a national sensation that captivated booming families and reached all the way to Capitol Hill. Lustrons were built in at least 32 states and the District of Columbia. Yet the company that produced them erected fewer than 3,000 before declaring bankruptcy in 1950. Today, the small two- and three-bedroom houses have become teardown targets, and only 1,200 to 1,500 are thought to remain, in various states of preservation. In Arlington, Lustrons have been demolished with astonishing rapidity. Just this April, a developer leveled a blue-and-yellow model, allowing no time for anyone to rescue it. Only four of the county's original 11 Lustrons remain intact.
No crowds are lined up for hot dogs at Nathan's Famous, no music wafts from Ruby's bar on the boardwalk. No screams come from the Cyclone roller coaster, whose nearly 60-degree opening drop, legend has it, once cured a coal miner who was born mute. (His first words before fainting: "I feel sick.") In early March, Coney Island's amusement district slumbers. Visitors are greeted here, on the Atlantic Ocean at the far reaches of Brooklyn, by a biting wind and an empty expanse of beach.
There are few signs that Coney Island, after years of neglect, is about to embark on a ride as gripping as any from its storied past. New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg and other city officials created the not-for-profit Coney Island Development Corporation (CIDC) in 2003 and so far have appropriated more than $85 million for the area's revitalization. The initial optimism about Coney Island's future, however, has largely been overshadowed by controversy. In recent years, Thor Equities, a New York City real estate company, has bought nearly three-quarters of the land in the heart of the amusement district and plans to build not only amusements-recent drawings showed a glitzy, futuristic collection of rides and attractions-but also condos, even though the area is not zoned for residential use. Depending on one's stance, condos are either an economic engine necessary to fuel Coney's revival or a significant threat to its survival as an amusement district.
Twice a day and three times on Saturday, eager groups of visitors find their way to 30 Blake Street in Charleston, S.C. A simple metal shed stands there, behind two modest houses. The shed resembles an old garage, with tables, chairs, and pieces of iron scattered outside. But from this humble structure has come some of the most beautiful ironwork in Charleston.
The shed is the workshop of Philip Simmons, an African American blacksmith who has been living in Charleston since 1919 and working there since the mid-1920s. This month, as Simmons celebrates his 95th birthday, the National Trust named his workshop and home, which must be stabilized to protect it from hurricanes, one of America's 11 Most Endangered Historic Places.
Since he began specializing in ornamental iron in 1938, Simmons has fashioned more than five hundred of the ornate iron gates, fences, balconies, and window grills that now grace the city of Charleston. "We speak of Charleston as a museum of his work," says Rossie M. Colter, project administrator for the Philip Simmons Foundation, established in 1991.
woodland home
via zoller
Working together, ArtAsiaPacific and People's Architecture have invited leading Asian and Pacific architects to create original architectural models from custom kits of white LEGO ® bricks with the intent that the models should be exhibited and auctioned to raise awareness about architectural preservation in Asia. Additionally, conceptual artist Ai Weiwei, also an architect, is contributing a special model that will reflect both aspects of his creative practice. The project engages concepts of creativity through play and issues of urbanism, new design and heritage awareness that affect architects in a region undergoing dramatic change and development.
not juventudes report
benoit murder-suicide
bush library at smu in dallas (shhhh its a secret!)
the depth of irony here is unfathomable
dylanesque
home made calder #3 by john schwarz
return of millennium dome
On Tuesday, June 26, WNYC will join with other internet radio providers – including Yahoo!, Pandora.com, Rhapsody, and KCRW.org -- to observe a “Day of Silence,” to register our disagreement with a recent decision by the Copyright Royalty Board to significantly increase royalty rates for streaming music. WNYC2, our 24 hour classical music stream, will “go silent” on June 26 from 12 midnight – 11:59pm.
Should the CRB’s decision take effect, as it is expected to do on July 15, internet radio industry-wide will be seriously impacted. But, public radio providers will be particularly affected, as our non-profit status will no longer factor into our royalty rates. WNYC and other public broadcasters will now be subjected to the increased commercial rates.
Additionally, CRB will charge for every song listened to by every listener, and the new rates will be retroactive for 17 months.
Over time, these unforeseen and disproportionately high rate hikes will imperil WNYC2 and the web streaming of Evening and Overnight Music, and thwart plans for future music streams.
You can learn more about the CRB’s decision and the Day of Silence at www.kurthanson.com/dos. This site also provides information about the Internet Radio Equality Act, which is currently under consideration in both the House and Senate.
We encourage WNYC listeners and supporters to learn the facts about the CRB’s decision and the efforts being made to revise it, and to make your opinion about the matter known to your Congressional representatives.
old school surfer t-shirts
cat in the hat 20"
slick daddy cruiser
via vz
cool shooters
via zoller
“Honey for sale. Good for allergies.”
NYC rooftop honey
Now, I doubt very seriously if he thought that up on his own. More likely, the honey supplier put a bee in his ear. Well, no matter, the flashing sign put a bee in my ear! I did a quick health inventory right there on the spot and that’s when I made the connection. A half quart of honey later I was feeling better!
Of course, this was no proof. So, I stopped eating it…got worse…and started eating it and got better. That’s where I am as I peck out this article. I confess that more personal research on my part is needed before I put a nail in it, but it is promising!
Information on the World Wide Wait is sparse. Except for one lone scientist at some college or the other who claims that fructose has the same incidence of allergy alleviation as honey most of the rest of the claims are anecdotal. (Is there any test-tee out there who can’t tell the difference between Karo syrup and honey?? Give me a break!) However, chances are good that you know someone who swears by bee pollen. It continues to be a good seller, so there must be something to it.
I’m not alone, however, in postulating that the best help comes from locally grown honey. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that local honey contains the richest source of ingredients for your local allergies. For example, no help may be obtained if you are ingesting honey rich in stinkweed pollen if you have never been exposed to a stinkweed blossoms. All you are likely to get is a honey high and all the other beneficial effects claimed for the tasty elixir.
The accepted theory of allergy immunization is that when you are given minute amounts of what you are allergic to, you build up your natural defenses. This doesn’t make a dab of sense to most people, but it works, never the less. Local honey contains minute amounts of what makes you sniffle, ache, or suffer pollen induced grouchiness.