Where The Secrets Go (And Stay)

I'm finally getting to all the Rural Studio projects we visited over two weeks ago.  Of the half a dozen projects we saw my favorite was "Subrosa".  I'm not sure if it was my favorite because of the backstory of the project, or the use of concrete, but it is something that really has to be seen.  Designed by Samuel Mockbee before he passed away, it was later built by his daughter in 2003.  It serves as a meditation chamber, and as a place to share secrets.  It is described in much more detail and with all the prerequisite knowledge necessary to understand many of the nuances of the project here.  And for more of the symbology of the rose and secrets you can read this brief little thing here. 

Remembering to Laugh

On the rainy days, we are unable to work on site, so we are forced back into the studio, and usually in front of our computer screens for long periods of time.  Those stretches can be taxing on one, especially when you have grown accustomed to turning around and catching glimpses of the Gulf as you work outside.
In response to those days, we found a way to amuse ourselves. We call it, the Humiliation Vest.

An Unexpected Twist

It's been a busy week since returning from our road trip, and is why I have not posted in nearly a weeks time.  We ran into a great deal of legal issues regarding the placement of Ms. Dang's house, which consequently pushed the start date of building her house from this week until January.  As such, we have turned our building efforts back to finishing the house for the Green's, which was started by the group last spring and construction began in the summer.  We spent the large part of last week preparing the roof for the metal panels which we have began installing this week.  (Pictures will follow in a day or two).

However, I have finally been able to sit down and start going through some of the pictures taken on the previously mentioned trip.  Our first stop was to Auburn University's Rural Studio, in the heart of Alabama.  The Rural Studio is a design/build not unlike what I am taking part in here on the Mississippi Gulf Coast, but over the last few years it has grown to the point that the focus has been split.  The second year students learn what it takes to realize a building by working on a house, and the fifth year students who return develop and build a community based project for Hale County, AL.

Anyway, as we were making our way to what we thought was our destination, we were struck by a building left vacant for what looked like the better part of three decades.  It begged us to stop, so we obliged its request.

The more time I spend in the built environment around us, the more I enjoy scenes like this.  As much as we try to control nature, in the end, we will never win.  

P.S. The Rural Studio projects will follow in several posts detailing each project that we stopped to visit.

Flannel Was My Camouflage

So there we were.  Finally.  And under the cover of the night.

Talladega.

After a lengthy detour for educational purposes we reached our destination.  It was impossible to understand exactly the scale of our new landscape.  But there we were, in the midst of it.  Hungry.  For food and adventure, but appetite for food took hold.  We decided that after setting up the tent we would eat and make it an early night and reserve ourselves for the next day.

As the sun woke so did we.  To the sound of a generator roaring next to our heads fueling the party needs of some of those around us, and off in the distance, you could make out the sound of cars humming past this barbaric scene.  The air also held the smell of the fires that raged the night before keeping those around them warm.  Once we opened the door to the tent, we were confronted with the enormity of everything around us; everything the night tried to hide from us.

This photo does little to describe the conditions to which we awoke, the sun burned off the fog and a breeze blew from the north to help clear the air, but it does begin to show what we inserted ourselves into.  As Saturday continued on, and the hours since my last shower grew greater, we did what our instincts directed us to, eat.  The festivities during the day were only there as a placeholder for what was to come that night.

Sunday was the main draw for most of those in attendance, but Saturday night had to pass first.  It tried relentlessly to not let Sunday morning arrive, but the fatigue from the work week before and the partying that day eventually washed over the masses.

Sunday morning came in much like Saturday.  The same noises and smells as the previous morning.  But Sunday also brought with it more.  More people.  More traffic.  Just more.  But it was why we were there, wasn't it?  NASCAR.  And where else to better experience it than in the heart of the South?  I couldn't think of a better place so there we were.  Despite the energy expelled the night before, the air still rang with energy. Or was that ringing still the generators?  Either way the morning was buzzing, along with my head.

So I began my day of observation by recording that panoramic above of our campsite.  It stretched nearly a mile and a half from end to end.  And as I would come to find out that afternoon, the smart ones had left earlier in the morning.  But around us were still people and sights worth noticing.  Many buses converted into RVs or something of that nature, but used primarily for partying, I assume both on the way to an event like this and of course throughout the durration of their stay.

And the people.  It's hard to find the words to describe them, and I don't mean that in an insulting way.  It's just that there isn't a single type of person there.   Sure, most of them are probably drinking, heavily, but there is more to it.  They work hard throughout the entire year, and this is their vacation.  I guess what sets it apart from a family vacation to a more scenic area (say a beach, or something more people would consider "normal") is just the location.  Modest.

To Hold You Over

Here is a picture of one of the more awesome sights we stumbled across driving through the Alabama countryside this past weekend on our way to Talladega.  It was about three quarters of a mile off the road with no real easy access so this was the best I could get, but it was basically a house built over top of a silo sitting in a field.