Manos, The Diner of Fate

On one of our car trips upstate we had lunch at one of those classic, non-chain, (Greek) family-owned diners that grow like barnacles on the side of highways. What made the Manos Diner so special is that absolutely nothing inside of it has changed since it was built in the late 70s, and that it is not just a great example of the architectural and interior design sensibilities of the time, but that it shows every single thing you could ask an architect to put into a building ca 1976 except a hot tub. I'm sure this is a case of someone having saved all of his life, then taken out a sizable business loan, walking into the second- or third-best architect's office in Ithaca and proudly stating to no-one in particular: "I want a building, and I want it with everything!"








This is something that for some reason got installed in every residential and retail business built between 1972 and 1977. It's pointless, it gets in the way, it's ugly and looks prefabricated. I don't even know what to call it. It's two brown wooden lathed bars that just.. well... sit there. Like government employees or middle management, they merely exist and don't bear any weight. Legend has it that the factory where they made these was torched down by angry villagers.





Here are some more, which give the Manos diner the cozy feeling of having lunch at the prison mess hall.

Counterpointing the ambiance de prision are some minimalist Tiffanyesque lamps. My grandmother has a similar one but I'm sure these are older.

In the bar/lounge section of Manos are these dark wood tables with chairs that have had their coverings riveted to them, as if someone worried that there might still be life left in the leather and it might run off to a more contemporaneously decorated establishment.

It is important to note that these chairs were in perfect condition, even though they were obviously at hand for the grand opening, back when Jimmy Carter had not yet managed to get the stink out of the White House.







Back to the front of the place, we see a floor of polished stone, a white Formica counter and brown vinyl stools. Please notice the red tile on the wall to the left....











This is very particular tile type that you just can't get anymore, and of a color that doesn't quite exist in nature except in the foliage of some trees for about 12 minutes every October.












Brick archways supporting a wall of.... packing peanuts?















Why no... it's pebbles... little black and white pebbles... How.... inventive.










Following the rule that states all spaces must be broken up with useless elements, this archway in the middle of the main dining area contains cast-metal ... erm.. dividers? Perhaps it's meant to discourage food fights.

Not content with their majestic useless aesthetic the staff has slapped on some seasonal decorations. I'm sure it's the only thing that changes in the place with the passing of the decades.




While the building may be more precious as a snapshot in time, they do run a good restaurant there, and the staff knows how to do their job. So if you're in the Ithaca area on Route 13 you might want to grab yourself a hot cup of coffee and a heapin' serving of time machine, at Manos, the Diner That Never Ages.

Richland County Public Library

The first in what I'm threatening myself with being an ongoing series of architectural photo essays.

In my recent trip down south I stayed with a friend in Columbia, SC. One of the more pleasant surprises of that trip was this absolutely WHACKED OUT building, inside and out, that proved to be the county public library. Fits in rather nicely with my photographic style. Kudos to the guy that sold them on the design (see? not all magnet buildings come from the Gehry tissue box).

Click to see the photos (will open a new window with an automated slideshow from Fotki.com; once that begins I suggest you use the popup menu on the right on that screen to activate "Picture stretching" to make sure the images don't get cropped inside your browser).

The face of the Disney Concert Hall

I was in L.A. last week. One of the things I went out of my way to see (another will get its own blentry soon enough) was the Disney Concert Hall. As with most people, I only know the works of Frank Gehry from the outside; I would often tell people that you really couldn't have much respect for a man whose entire design process apparently involved throwing a crumpled tissue at the client followed by the demand for a large check.



I got a chance to take lots of photos of, yes, the outside, but also the lobby/milling/loungey areas (which you never see featured anywhere because they're "non-primary-functional".. bullshit I say).

http://public.fotki.com/juanolator/trip-to-la/disney-concert-hall/

But most interesting is the main auditorium itself.... The acoustics, and thus the shape and surface of EVERYTHING seen inside the auditorium were designed by a Japanese man (Yasuhisa Toyota).


See the face? See the kabuki face?

hint: the center element is an organ; as in, pipe organ, moving a lot of air, as in breathing... the two blue areas in the top left & right are skylights (natural sunset light)..... and the sound comes from the.....


I will never accuse Frank Gehry of being a humorless man again.


As for the acoustics...... I will just say that there is a downside to an auditorium designed so perfectly that, even with the orchestra playing, you can hear every fiber of the clothing worn by people within 100 ft of you flexing as they reposition themselves in their seats... like corn popping... I'm all for function over form, and I'm very happy when there can be both, but when both get blown right out of the park with no compromise(*) it is awe-inspiring.

(*) I think the compromise is that it is actually a very small space for an internationally-known performance hall; maybe 300-500 seats, with in-the-round type seating to minimize "dead spots" in the back corners etc. They definitely had to (had to? got to!) choose quality over quantity in terms of seating.