Edmonton airport

Sunday, February 26, 2012

Edifice

In Asterix and Cleopatra there is an Egyptian architect called ‘Edifice,’ a perfect name for someone who designs and oversees the construction of massive and monumental buildings (pyramids and temples). The root of the word comes from ‘edify’ – to improve spiritually. Edify is from a Latin word meaning to construct a house and also meaning a temple, house or building.

Many of the buildings I think of in this context in our modern world are court houses, parliament buildings, etc. They aren’t always buildings however, that I find structurally interesting or spiritual.
I once knew a man who told me that he thought female architects would design more organic buildings. When I asked for more of an explanation, he described more flowing and rounded buildings. So male -- angular, female – curvy. I don’t buy that (think of Henry Moore’s sculptures); it seems too stereotypical to me.

However, I like the idea that a building can embody spiritual symbolism. Churches are obvious examples, and I think of churches I visited in Germany and Poland.  High and vaulted ceilings and interior space. I’ve seen similar ones here in Canada, but also found very plain boxy structures that look like glorified meeting halls. Now, I do know of the extravagance in church buildings that resulted in stripping South American indigenous cultures of gold, as well as impoverishing local communities in Europe. The construction of a church could take decades and use of the energy and lives of many people. But at the same time it seems to me that we don’t need to deliberately construct ugly buildings. 
I can think of a number of structures that inspire me. I’ve never visited the Alhambra in Granada, Spain, though I would like to. It is a place of soaring ceilings as well as beautiful vistas with the soothing addition of water. Frank Lloyd Wright’s house “Falling Water” incorporates water, rocks, and trees into a house that looks as if it had grown naturally out of its environment. There are lesser buildings that please the eye. In Victoria, I like Craigdarroch Castle, though its grounds leave much to be desired. In Saskatoon, I quite like the Bessborough Hotel and it has a wonderful setting on the riverbank. The Mendel Art Gallery, too is unique.

When I googled inspirational buildings, I often got famous buildings instead, such as glass skyscrapers and modern towers such as the CN Tower in Toronto. I don’t think that skyscrapers are necessarily bad.  Chicago, for instance, has interesting art deco buildings, some of which are skyscrapers. In Saskatoon, we have a few old and newer pleasing apartment blocks.
I don’t expect that architecture to embody spirituality (in the broadest sense, as to inspire), though what an interesting goal towards which to strive.

Sunday, February 5, 2012

Denim

In the past I’d heard that the name denim comes from serge de Nimes a kind of cloth made in Nimes France.  I even had a pair of jeans that had a little label that said ‘de Nimes.’ However, recently when I went on line to research this etymology of the word some more, I found conflicting information.  So let me confabulate about denim.

My dictionary defines ‘serge’ as ‘a durable twilled fabric having a smooth clear face and a pronounced diagonal rib on the front and back, made in various weights from worsted, wool, cotton, silk or rayon.’  One on-line source (WiseGeek) I found says that ‘serge’ comes from the Greek word serikos, meaning ‘silken’ and speculates that this was thus a fabric that originally came from China.  The Encyclopedia Britannica, however, says that ‘serge’ comes from the Latin serica also meaning ‘silk.’ It also says that the fabric was very popular for military uniforms.

At www.levistrauss.com we find an article that says a type of wool and silk fabric known as serge de Nimes was manufactured in France before the 17th century. According to this site, a similar fabric was also manufactured in England and called by the same name. This site also states that there was another fabric, called jean, and manufactured in Genoa, Italy, a type of fustian, made of cotton, linen and/or wool.

The first printed reference to denim in the United States was in a Rhode Island newspaper in 1789.

I found one reference (about.com) that said that when Levi Strauss brought his canvas to San Francisco in 1853 to sell for tents during the gold rush, a prospector said, “You should have brought pants.” Levi started making waist overalls. However, the Levi Strauss web site doesn’t appear to give credence to this story and is much more prosaic in telling what supposedly happened.
Did you know that the areas where jeans typically fade (areas of most wear) are called the whiskers (upper thighs), the stacks (ankles) and the honey combs (behind the knees)?

As I researched this I began to be interested in the history of fabric in general. What I wondered is the oldest fabric or textile (not counting fur off the animal)? Again some conflicting info depending on the source (the downside of internet research – I don’t think you can trust only one source). I found some sites that said flax/linen was the oldest. Dyed flax fragments have been found in the Republic of Georgia that are 36,000 years old. In South America textile fragments of woven linen that have been dated at around 12,000 years old have been found. But felt (made of compacted wool or fur) could also be the oldest. In truth this is something we may never know for sure because fabric decomposes more readily than other artefacts that lie buried for centuries. The idea of felt being the oldest makes most sense to me because it didn’t need much processing and no weaving apparatus. People could have gathered hair from wild sheep or other animals and compacted it by soaking it in water and pressing.

Some mysteries are never solved.