via the fabulous/ist io9,this animation from the European Space Agency of the distribution of space debris in orbit around the Earfs between 1957 and 2000.
At closing speeds reaching 50 thousand
km per hour, even the smallest bits of space debris can cause serious
harm to spacecraft; larger ones cause catastrophe. Near-Earth missions,
like the International Space Station, now carry ever-more sophisticated
shielding. Not only is space debris a hot topic, it is also a
fascinating — and growing — field of space science.
The animation shows the little dots of light representing satellite grabbage increasing and swarming around the Earth like flies. It's creepy.
Just 'cause you can't see it doesn't mean it's not there.
jane Jacobs may be a genius, but I mistrust genius, especially where it relates to architecture and city planning ... probably because my sister sent me, without irony, a copy of The Fountainhead when I was a freshman in college (she a sophomore) and, although I threw it across the room every fifty pages or so, I felt that I had to finish it, and therefore read all the way through the part where Roark 'sploded up a housing project because they changed the pipes or something and then justified it on account of his genius, even though he was a rapist. Jane Jacobs gives me a whole new set of ammo against Howard Roark that I never thought I'd get--or need--namely the simple fact that housing projects are bad, and for that, I forgive her her genius.
Jane Jacobs is, in fact, the anti-Howard Roark: because she was real whereas Roark was fictional; because she stood for the collective using principles to guide minimal interference in community long-term, "natural" building and development processes that brought aesthetic diversity and diversity of use, while Roark was all about the monolithic, single-use project designed by an individual and forced upon a disempowered mass; because she was a woman and Roark, a man--a very important difference; because she was married, a parent, and lived in urban neighborhoods and Roark was perennially single, fatally paternalistic, and residentially nomadic, through urban, exurban, and privileged rural spaces.
I'm shocked that I remember this much about a book I threw across the room twenty years ago. Let this be the last time I ever write about Rand.
Urban Attributes undertakes a synchronic study of
urban areas within Andalusia, and also of local and globally relevant
phenomena which during recent decades have determined and defined ways
of generating a city.
Two complementary work areas have been created together with a
program of parallel activities that will take place in autumn 2006... The first of these work areas includes the study of adjectives and
nouns assigned to the contemporary city by various authors. A glossary of attributes
has ... served to describe urban phenomena from our recent history. ...
To complement this we propose the analysis of five urban areas
affected by intense socioeconomic, infrastructural, and cultural
transformations, i.e.: the Campo de Dalias-Campo de Níjar, the Costa del Sol, the Straits of Gibraltar, the Bay of Cadiz, and the SE30-SE40 district within the metropolitan area of Seville.
Some favorite terms:
Buffer City: Global buffer cities become spaces of transition between
countries and continents, where differences in economic development
cause the uncontrollable decanting of people and businesses. The
interest of the buffer city lies exclusively in the fact that
it is crossed to reach the other side, and this condition of area of
passage, where legal exchange and illegal traffic are more intense,
gives it a high degree of crossovers and social conflict that become
spatially various manifestations of a provisional nature.
Cannibal City: We understand such a city to be one that in the process of its
territorial expansion and growth engulfs any other urban area that it
encounters. This is an organicist characterization of the city, which
resorts to the analogy with natural phenomena to reveal the most
irrational facet of its behaviour. Cannibalism becomes a valid
reference for situations in which the expansion of the city is subject
to the vicissitudes of the free market and the changing interests that
encourage property speculation, which raise doubts about the efficiency
of any regulation, norm, or form of planning.
Surfurbia: Coined by Reyner Banham in his Los Angeles. The Architecture of Four Ecologies (1971), the term surfurbia
is used to describe the influence that the overwhelming trinomial of
the three Ss (Sun, Sand and Surf) has on the construction of the
contemporary metropolis. In the first place, surfurbia arises
as a habitual process of suburbanization: Since it was founded, the
city of Los Angeles was kept separate from the sea until in the early
20th century the coast became the declared objective of its expansion.
This process, as in the remainder of North American cities, was based
on an alliance with rail companies which permitted easy access from the
downtown area to the first exclusive resorts of the periphery such as
Santa Mónica, created as a result of the growing fondness for bathing
of the Los Angeles bourgeoisie of the late 19th century.
Villa Miseria: Villa Miseria is the Argentinian version of a term that has numerous local equivalents: Favela in Brazil, callampa in Chile, pueblo joven in Peru, katchi abadi in Pakistan, shanty town in Kenya, bidonville in Algeria, township in South Africa, barong-barong in the Philippines, jhuggi
in India, etc. All of them refer to the same phenomenon, the slum
housing that surrounds the large metropolises of developing countries.
The Villas Miseria are unplanned settlements. They appear as
a result of the initiative of a group of citizens (normally from rural
areas) who appropriate furtively and illegally an empty territory
located on the periphery of a large city.
the self-destruction of diversity can happen in streets, at small node of vitality, in groupings of streets, or in whole districts. The last case is the most serious.
Whichever form the self-destruction takes, this, in broad strokes, is what happens: A diversified mixture of uses at some place in the city becomes outstandingly popular and successful as a whole. Because of the location's success, which is invariably based on flourishing and magnetic diversity, ardent competition for space in this locality develops. It is taken up in what amounts to the economic equivalent of a fad.
The winners in the competition for space will represent only a narrow segment of the many uses that together created success.
Whichever one or few uses have emerged as the most profitable in the locality will be repeated and repeated, crowding out and overwhelming less profitable forms of use. If tremendous numbers of people, attracted by convenience and interest, or charmed by vigor and excitement, choose to live or work in the area, again the winners of the competition will form a narrow segment of the population of users. Since so many want to get in, those who get in or stay in will be self-sorted by the expense.
... Thus, from this process, one or few dominating uses finally emerge triumphant. But the triumph is hollow. A most intricate and successful organism of economic mutual support and social mutual support has been destroyed by the process.
... [gentrifying forces] were making the same mistake as a family I know who bought an acre in the country on which to build a house.For many years, while they lacked the money to build, they visited the site regularly and picnicked on a knoll, the site's most attractive feature. They liked so much to visualize themselves as always there, that when they finally built they put the house on the knoll. But then the knoll was gone. somehow they had not realized they would destroy it and lose it by supplanting it with themselves.
... so many people want to live in the locality that it becomes profitable to build, in excessive and devastating quantity, for those who can pay the most. These are usually childless people, and today they are not simply people who can pay the most in general, but people who can or will pay the most for the smallest space. Accommodations for this narrow, profitable segment of population multiply, at the expense of all other tissue and all other population. Families are crowded out, variety of scene is crowded out, enterprises unable to support their share of the new construction costs are crowded out. ... The admired and magnetic knoll is destroyed by its own new occupants, by the act of occupation.
... It is more fruitful, I think, to approach this as a problem of malfunction in cities themselves.
First, we must undertsand that self-destruction of diversity is caused by success, not by failure.
Second, we must understand the the process is a continuation of the same economic processes that led to the success itself, and were indispensable to it. Diversity grows in a city areas because of economic opportunity and economic attraction. During the process of diversity growth, rival users of space are crowded out. All City diversity grows, in part at least, at the expense of some other tissue. ...
During the growth period, much of the new diversity occurs not merely at the expense of uniquely low-value tissue, but also at the expense of already existing duplications of use. This result of economic competition for space is net increase in diversity.
At some point the diversity growth has proceeded so far that the addition of new diversity is mainly in competition with already existing diversity. Relatively little sameness is being subtracted, perhaps none. This is the case when a center of activity and diversity has reached a peak. If the addition is really something different ... there is still no net loss in diversity.
Here is a process, then, that operates for a time as a healthy and salutary function, but by failing to modify itself at a critical point, becomes a malfunction. The analogy that comes to mind is faulty feedback.
The presence of an end product in the milieu of a cell causes the machinery that produces the end product to slow down or to stop. This form of cell behavior Dr. Potter characterized as "intelligent." In contrast, a cell that has changed or mutated behaves like and "idiot" in that it continues without feedback regulation to produce even materials that it does not require.
... Suppose we think of successful city areas, for all their extraordinary and intricate economic and social order, as faulty in this fashion. In creating city success, we human beings have created marvels, but we left out feedback.
--- Jane Jacobs, The Death and Life of Great American Cities
the above video is about a 3-D map created last year by an international team of scientists who, using photos taken by the Hubble thingy thing, mapped the dark matter we can see (or rather, not see) in a small square of space, by looking at the way the starlight bends around it.
Yeah, I never really understood how we could tell that the starlight bends.
But the map is purty and cool.
I'm working on my novel right now and trying to figure out how much
detail of someone else's actions a character with 20/20 eyesight could
see at the distance of a quarter mile.
So I went online to see if any random genius had posted photographs of
what things look like at various distances: 100 feet, 100 yards, a
mile, etc.
Couldn't find anything like that.
Does anyone know of such a resource ... or would anyone like to create such a resource? ;) Seems like a good project for a student studying landscape, land use or surveying.
the above image is from the opening titles for the Fox TV show New Amsterdam, which I've been watching with slightly but steadily decreasing interest in its usual TViness, but increasing interest in its geographical sensibilities. The opening titles show a quick animation of New York City getting built up from its original shape as a village at the lower end of Manhattan.
The premise is that a Dutchman from the seventeenth century goes to the New World and is killed there saving an Indian woman. She turns out to be a shaman who brings him back to life and keeps him alive until he finds his one true love.
So he lives through nearly four centuries, marrying many times and fathering sixty-three children, only to become an NYPD homicide cop in the present. One day, in the pilot, he has a heart attack and dies on a subway platform. When he revives later, he realizes that this means that his one true love was on that subway platform, and that this is the beginning of the end. Now all he has to do is find her.
Here's a trailer that sums up the show's premise:
It's not a very good show, although Lasse Hallstrom directed the first episode. The acting is not strong (the Danish lead actor's accent isn't convincing, and affects his affect), there's no chemistry between the lead and the woman who might be the one true love (she gets the boot at the end of this first short season), and there's nothing particularly unusual or standout about the show.
Except for the use of the city in history.
This is something that was done to a lesser extent with the showAngel, which took place in Los Angeles and featured a 250-year-old vampire who had lived in Los Angeles in the 1950s. Angel
frequently took us back to earlier eras--in other places as well as
LA--showing us the protagonist's involvement in historical moments.
But it was never done as quite such a love song to a particular city.
In New Amsterdam the protagonist, who names himself
alternately "Amsterdam" and "York," stays in New York throughout his
immortality, and possesses both generalized and personal knowledge of
the history and happenstances of each place. What Amsterdam knows about
the city is layered, often subtle, and broad in the field. The amount
of research they must do for this show is awesome.
The immortality conceit allows a very intimate, and story-driven, view of history which is satisfying to the narrative-obsessed on every level. What's even more satisfying is that this intimate and story-driven view of history is utterly tied not just to place, or to city as imaginative construct, but to geography, in all its weird and complex splendor.
By "geography" here I mean it all; all of it: social history, metonyms, reputations of people and places, the strange continuities that remain in a place even after the public stops going there, architecture and arts, physical transformations and how to track them, land use, recreation, the replacement of one population by another, the way people in a place are always doomed to repeat that place's history, as if geography were destiny, which, as we all know, it is.
The makers of the show eschew the cheap, shallow history of time-travel shows like "Quantum Leap" or "Dr. Who," which understand a historical era in terms of costuming and a single zeitgeist. Instead, they make choices which are often as interesting and complex as they are TV-awkward and clueless. For example, in the present, Amsterdam's sidekick/confidant is his sixty-year-old son, Omar. Omar is a biracial (black and Dutch) former trumpet player who now owns a club where Amsterdam hangs out. Amsterdam married Omar's mother in the late forties, against the desires of her wealthy, conservative, black father.
All of which is kind of amazing. Amsterdam may well be the first major TV protagonist (of a non-ensemble show) to have a biracial child. BUT, the jazz from the relationship comes from the role-reversal: Omar is now old enough to be Amsterdam's father, and acts like it. This role-reversal only enables Omar to be the magical negro, while giving Amsterdam a kind of racial cred he couldn't get any other way. And Omar seems also to be tied to New York in a way inexplicable for someone who was once a musician and presumably traveled a great deal. His ownership of the bar is a device that keeps him in place, available at every moment to serve Amsterdam. So, that line of inquiry is ambivalent about racial issues.
Or another example in a recent episode: Amsterdam is a painter during the era immediately preceding WWI. He's a cheesy representational painter (of course) during modernism; and they stupidly have him altering his own personality to become tempestuous and to have him cheatin' on his wife. Gah, moronic stereotypes.
But what that episode is actually about is the origins of ... you guessed it ... organized crime. Amsterdam is investigating a mob hit on the school-teacher scion of a (strangely) Dutch-named crime family who happens to look exactly like Amsterdam-the-pre-war-painter's son. Throughout the episode the usual flashbacks are to a time when Amsterdam--whose wife was starting to age (he himself remains perpetually 35) while his son, Rosie, was becoming a man--had an affair with an artist's model (gah! moronic stereotypes!)
Amsterdam confirms that the murdered boy is actually his great great grandson through his son Rosie, and tortures himself throughout the episode that his home-breakin' ways were what drove Rosie to crime. Then, once he's solved the murder, he sits down in the last few minutes of the show with his aging grandson--the murdered boy's grandfather--to find out why Rosie became a criminal. Well, guess what? It wasn't Rosie at all. Rosie was a schoolteacher in the teens and twenties, and it was the grandson who turned to crime during the great depression. "I made some choices" the old man says, and that's that.
I'm not sure how much of this was intentional--because after all, the acting and direction and even writing in the show is muddy--but in this one episode they've layered a number of factors and influences guiding the outcomes of individuals within movements of history. This crime family comes from a cultured, but presumably economically unstable artist's family. As is very realistic with such families, the son becomes a teacher, another culturally, but not economically, capitaled sector. So during a time of severe economic downturn, the grandson--who presumably has access to his parents' cultural and social capital, but not to any sort of economic safety net; and who lives in a city vast enough to support minor crime networks within neighborhoods--turns to organized crime.
Two generations later, the family's wealth is assured and the family returns to the cultural and social luxury of a low-paying, high-ideals job like teaching. It's all in there: the class and economics issues; Americans' strange love/hate relationship with high culture and learning, and violence; our contempt and reverence for the arts; our need to relate the great movements of history to our small, personal faults and triumphs, only to discover that the great movements were caused by great movements instead, and our individual choices were as drops in the ocean.
And there's even a lovely throwaway in there: the son's name, "Rosie," is short for "Roosevelt," which suggests that he was named after Teddy, but also suggests much more subtly that Amsterdam has a history with the New York Dutch Roosevelt family.
Every episode has stuff like this.
So I'm torn about this show. I'd love for it to get better, for it to become a conduit for this kind of thinking, and a quality drama as well, but I'm not hopeful. I haven't heard much buzz about the show and it doesn't seem to have legs. Oh well.
annalee newitz recently contributed an awesome post to io9 comparing 19th century maps of Mars to current science, which she got from an even awesomer (if possible) post on BibliOdyssey. Annalee compares the historical maps to more recent satellite photos from the 1990's. Peacay of BibliOdyssey show a buncha Schiaparelli maps, and a Percival Lowell map, and talks about the (to me, now) well-known history of the canals and the Martians.
What impresses me about this Schiaparelli map (Schiaparelli was the eye-talian who called the structures above depicted "canali," which simply means "channels" in Italian but was misunderstood as "canals" in English, thereby setting off the intelligent-life-on-Mars craze) is how wacko-Max-Ernst-modernist-sci-fi-y they look. Is this the source of a particular aesthetic? Or as Peacay put it:
Schiaparelli's (in)famous 'canali'
turned out to be a kind of optical illusion caused by interactions
between light, dust clouds that form in the martian atmosphere, the
orbital location and background interference from the planet's surface
itself. If a sketch is made of something that wasn't really there but
you believed it to be there at the time, can you call the result
abstract art I wonder? I guess so.
to generate exuberant diversity in a city's streets and districts, four conditions are indispensable:
The district, and indeed as many of its internal parts as possible, must serve more than one primary function; preferably more than two. These must insure the presence of people who go outdoors on different schedules and are in the place for different purposes, but who are able to use many facilities in common.
Most blocks must be short; that is, streets and opportunities to turn corners must be frequent.
The district must mingle buildings that vary in age and condition, including a good proportion of old ones so that they vary in the economic yield they must produce. This mingling must be fairly close-grained.
There must be a sufficiently dense concentration of people, for whatever purposes they may be there. This includes dense concentration in the case of people who are there because of residence.
-- Jane Jacobs, The Death and Life of Great American Cities, which I'm reading all the way through right now and which is transforming my view of everything.
The books one reads in childhood, and perhaps most of all the bad and good bad books, create in one's mind a sort of false map of the world, a series of fabulous countries into which one can retreat at odd moments throughout the rest of life, and which in some cases can survive a visit to the real countries which they are supposed to represent.
-- George Orwell
Geography and space are always gendered, always raced, always economical and always sexual. The textures that bind them together are daily re-written through a word, a gaze, a gesture.
-- Irit Rogoff
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