Daniel Herman

  • Yves Klein’s air architecture

    YVES KLEIN’S ARCHITECTURE is ignored in most discussions of his work, which tend to dwell on his deep blue monochromes and his daredevil photomontage Leap into the Void, 1960. But a broader view shows that, before his life was cut short at the age of thirty-four in 1962, Klein was increasingly drawn to larger-scale visions. In 1957 he began to generate schemes for buildings and cities—indeed, entire civilizations—in a long-term project he called “air architecture.” The project took many forms—paintings, drawings, plans, construction details, installations, films, lectures, performances, even

  • Ezra Stoller

    Rem Koolhaas once said that when he first came to New York, there was no building he was more excited to visit, and none that disappointed him more, than the Seagram Building.

    Rem Koolhaas once said that when he first came to New York, there was no building he was more excited to visit, and none that disappointed him more, than the Seagram Building. Perhaps Ezra Stoller bears some of the blame. It was he, after all, who created the dramatic photographs that presented Mies van der Rohe’s Manhattan masterpiece to the world. In one of his most famous shots, Stoller focuses not on the elegant black tower but on the open plaza in front. Creating this void at street’s edge was Mies’s most radical idea for the project, and Stoller nailed it. Now,

  • Santiago Calatrava

    Santiago Calatrava’s design for the new PATH train station at Ground Zero brings a welcome sense of lightness to a district saddled with monumentalizing a tragedy. In a signature Calatrava gesture, the station’s expressive structure extends beyond the building envelope, fanning across the sky like reeds in the breeze.

    Santiago Calatrava’s design for the new PATH train station at Ground Zero brings a welcome sense of lightness to a district saddled with monumentalizing a tragedy. In a signature Calatrava gesture, the station’s expressive structure extends beyond the building envelope, fanning across the sky like reeds in the breeze. This implication of gentle motion will be actualized every September 11, when the glass roof opens to offer an unimpeded view of sky. Such evocative marriages of skeletonic morphology and transportation infrastructure form the core of

  • the Center for Land Use Interpretation

    YOU WON’T FIND the Los Angeles suburb of Irwindale on any star map, but on a September Saturday last year, fifty of us are on a tour bus heading for that very town. There, scattered among the standard landmarks of contemporary suburbia—a strip mall, gas stations, an office park—are the peculiar and sublime sites we’ve come to see: a gravel quarry, some piles of sand, a speedway, a dam, an asphalt factory, a brewery.

    The guide for this unusual excursion is the Center for Land Use Interpretation (CLUI). CLUI was started in 1994 as a nonprofit institution devoted to understanding the “utilization

  • the Institute of Contemporary Art, Boston

    To the flurry of fancy new American museum buildings add Diller + Scofidio’s Institute of Contemporary Art, Boston, slated for completion in 2006. Happily, the New York-based team’s recently unveiled design has little in common with many of its overblown contemporaries, such as Santiago Calatrava’s monumental addition to the Milwaukee Art Museum and Daniel Libeskind’s zany Denver Art Museum. Functional, spare, site-specific, and downright petite at sixty-two thousand square feet, Diller + Scofidio’s ICA stems the Bilbao-inspired tide of marquee museums, which, more often than not, have proved