The Most Beautiful Route from A to B

This is such a refreshing idea!

http://www.technologyreview.com/view/528836/forget-the-shortest-route-across-a-city-new-algorithm-finds-the-most-beautiful

It's a navigation app, much like Google Maps, but it takes users on the scenic route -- a welcome change.

I'll first caveat that for the most part, efficiency is a very good thing. When it comes to governments, corporations, public transportation -- it behooves the administrators to optimize for efficiency. But when it comes to the individual, there are many situations when one misses opportunities and inspiration by taking the most conventionally efficient route.

As a New Yorker, I'm the first to acknowledge that some of our subway stations, for example, are not up to scratch when compared with those in other cities. But there's an uncommon beauty to some of the cityscapes I've had the fortune to encounter in my years here. This is a view of an approaching train coming down the tracks, on a typical subway platform in the city:

And this is an evening view of the iconic Flatiron Building:

I'm a believer in stopping to smell the roses once in a while. I've had some of my best ideas while walking alone through the city, or people-watching from the window of a café, or even in a hot shower on a cold day. I find that beauty begets beauty, just as cunning design or sound judgment often prompts the same. The benefits of walking in beauty are often unseen and manifest subtly, so such pursuits are overlooked in the bustle of our lives. It's a shame, and I hope this algorithm helps users inject a little colour into their lives.

Boston

I went to Boston this weekend to visit one of my oldest friends (we've known each other for most of our lives). It was wonderful to experience a different city with someone who knows the lay of the land. Here are some highlights of the weekend...

My trip apparently coincided with a major sporting event, so there were people wearing Boston gear all over the city. Someone decided to clothe the Public Garden's decorative brass ducks:

And this is what looks like a ballroom in the main branch of the Boston Public Library:

It's a stunning space, with wood panelling and frescoes running the entire length of the walls. I could imagine a medieval ball being held here.

This library could give the New York Public Library at Bryant Park a run for its money. It has an interior courtyard that looks like it was airlifted from Renaissance Europe:

I'm reminded of the courtyard of the Frick Museum. I could imagine Juliet leaning on the rail of the balcony on the left, beckoning to Romeo in the garden below. I've never been to Verona, but in my mind, it looks something like this.

Boston is also home to the world's only Curious George store! I didn't know this a few days ago.

This was taken on a bridge over a particularly scenic stretch of the Charles River:

I believe it was the Longfellow Bridge, which was named for the poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. He was one of the preeminent poets of his day; one of his most famous works, "Paul Revere's Ride," is a classic in the American canon. There is a plaque in his honor, and the poem is engraved on a stretch of the footpath on the bridge. I didn't think to get a photo of it at the time; I was too busy walking backwards reading the poem!

And that was Boston. It's such a quaint place (cobblestone streets! trolleys!) with so much history tucked into the fabric of the city.

New York at Dusk

There are times when I walk alone in the streets of New York, when I'm surrounded by looming glass behemoths against the deep blue dusk, when the air is crisp and a fine mist of rain coats the pavement, when the hum of human activity permeates the corners of the city -- times when I'm happy to be alive and grateful to live in such a magnificent, vibrant place. There's nowhere quite like New York.

I took this picture near Rockefeller Center a few weeks ago (the lights of Radio City Music Hall are visible in the lower left). Something about the lone building lit up against a swathe of clouds reminds me of Egypt, of obelisks and monuments erected by long-dead Pharaohs.

This photograph was taken from the High Line. The red-and-white illuminated building in the center is the Empire State Building (I love the way the spire disappears into the clouds). The polyhedral glass rooftop structure, I discovered, contains what appears to be a small library, replete with armchairs, lamps, and a few shelves of books. (That has to be one of the coolest library designs I've seen!)

I took this picture a month or two ago at the piers on the West Side. (The "BEA on a Boat" party happened on that boat, actually.) I was struck by the "halo effect" of the setting sun behind the mast; the boat and the play of light on the water reminds me of the elven ships sailing into the west in The Lord of the Rings.

There's something melancholy and fiercely beautiful about this city when you're alone, spending some quality time with it, just drinking it in.

Toothpick Miniature of the San Francisco Bay

I found this, and it's breathtaking. I'm not sure I'd have the patience to build something like this, honestly, but I can certainly gawk at someone else's creation:


Scott Weaver's Rolling through the Bay from Learning Studio on Vimeo.

NYTimes: Wildlife Overpasses

A creative solution to the inevitable problems of encroaching upon wildlife territory:

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/01/24/science/earth/24overpass.html?hpw

Obviously, it would be impractical to just remove hundreds of miles of road -- not to mention that the populace would never go for it. This is a good and quite innovative way to minimize the impacts of said roads on the (often sensitive) wildlife that populate the areas they traverse, without significantly inconveniencing the humans using the roads -- which is one of the major bottlenecks in implementing most environmental protections. Humans are often selfish, and are reluctant to be inconvenienced in the name of even the best of causes if it does not tangibly benefit us. (This brings to mind the days of Econ 101...)

NYTimes: Pompeii -- Archaeologists' Dream, Conservationists' Failure

And now, back to our regularly scheduled programming:

This is scary. Really scary. For a historian and a (lapsed) Latin student, and an avid museum-goer, the idea of such artifacts, such a goldmine of Roman archaeology, being destroyed simply because of human incompetence and negligence, is a travesty:

http://artsbeat.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/11/30/another-collapse-at-pompeii-renews-calls-for-better-care

I want to go to Pompeii sometime. I've never been, and I hope that by the time the opportunity arises, it won't be too late.

NYTimes: Designing Your Own Wallpaper

I really want to do something like this when I get my own place someday:

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/07/15/technology/personaltech/15basics.html?src=me&ref=technology

I think it would be fun to essentially design my own wallpaper.  I've been thinking of some things that might be awesome:

• A map of the world. I'd put little stickers, or pushpins, or something, on all the places I've visited. I love traveling -- I love exploring all the history and art and architecture, the cultural relics of centuries past (You can probably tell from the Italy posts.).
• An underwater scene. It would be like having an enormous aquarium, only lower-maintenance and more practical (especially since certain beautiful species of fish are rather difficult to keep alive at home, not to mention that certain species don't get along with other species, or members of the same sex of the same species, &c.).  I am a huge fan of anything colorful or shiny that swims around (if I had one of those aquarium screensavers, I'm sure my productivity would plummet).
• A lakeside scene. Something along the lines of a 山水画, which is a specifically Chinese kind of painting (well, the Japanese have something like it too, but it was mostly borrowed from the Chinese). There's no good translation for it that quite captures the complete meaning of the phrase; the literal meaning is "mountain water picture". It's a particularly peaceful sort of landscape painting that I rather like. 
• The sky. I would love to wallpaper a ceiling with a picture of the sky -- perhaps a sunny blue sky with clouds and kites, or a rich sunset, or (if it wouldn't darken the room too much) a night sky with glow-in-the-dark stars -- not the plastic, five-pointed stick-on kind, but stars as seen by the human eye. I know it's not really the done thing to have ceilings of any color but white, but it would be awesome. (Unlike the other ideas, stars could be painted onto a monochromatic black or blue ceiling, but not with the same accuracy. And I'd have to stick the moon up there anyhow.)

Note to self: reread this blog entry in a few years.

Italy Travelogue, Part 2: Rome

Rome is big. Not quite as big as New York (what is?), but after Florence, Rome seemed huge. Of course, it was the place to be (in Europe, at least) for several centuries, way before any of the other major metropolises even existed. We procured four Roma Passes, which are designed for tourists and include discounts to major attractions (museum tickets are expensive!) and free public transit, valid for three consecutive days.

Four days in Rome was definitely not enough (especially since one of them was spent outside of Rome, technically, in the Vatican). Unlike Florence, which rose to prominence in the Middle Ages, Rome was the center of a vast empire in antiquity, and has several millennia of history on Florence. (Huzzah for Ancient Empires!)

The afternoon we get there, I drag them to see the Pantheon. (I'm a sucker for Greco-Roman mythology, but this one's really worth seeing.) It also houses the work of several Renaissance masters, as well as several of their graves, most notably that of Raphael. This is an interior view of its dome:


The Romans were really architectural geniuses, given their level of technology. It's incredible that the Pantheon survived several regime changes and wars. Of course, one of the reasons it wasn't quarried for marble or anything was that it was converted to a church in honor of the Virgin Mary and assorted Christian martyrs. It stands in stark contrast to many of the temples in the Roman Forum (dating from the days of the Republic) and the later Imperial fora; most of those now lie in ruins, much of their marble facing carted off to adorn other facades. Even so, the Roman Forum is well worth seeing. Here is a photograph of the Temple of Romulus:


This was one of the most intact of the temples in the Forum (and indeed, in all of Rome), mostly because it was converted to a church, that of the saints Cosmas and Damian, two Greek brothers, to stand in stark contrast to the Temple of Castor and Pollux, also in the Forum. This is, unfortunately, all that's left of the latter:


Freestanding monuments and buildings not constructed of marble were also generally in better repair; take, for instance, this photograph of the northwestern corner of the Forum:


In the middle of the picture is the Arch of Septimus Severus, commemorating the emperor's victories against the Parthians. He was a strong leader and a military man, which was good for Rome, given the corruption and political disunity of the preceding reigns. He also sponsored numerous public works, among which were several arches like this one.

The brownish building on the right (the one with three windows above its main entrance) is the Curia Julia, the Senate building built by (somewhat ironically) Julius Caesar. (He never saw it in its current form, as it was completed during the reign of Augustus.) The height of its ceiling is particularly impressive from the inside.

While I'm at it, here's another Augustan monument:


My sister and I are standing in front of the Ara Pacis (English: Altar of Peace). It was built by the Senate on the occasion of Augustus's subjugation of Gaul and Hispania, to celebrate the Pax Augusta, the peace that the emperor brought about by uniting various far-flung European peoples under imperial rule. My father, when I explained the altar's history, aptly remarked that Augustus was rather like the first Qin (秦) Emperor of China, Qin Shi Huang (秦始皇), who unified China. (Personally, I think Augustus was a lot friendlier. Also, Augustus's overall geopolitical achievement was probably somewhat less impressive, given that he was building upon Julius Caesar's successful military campaigns, whereas the Qin Emperor had to conquer the other six Chinese states, which were more or less equal in power to his at the start of his campaigns. Not to say that Augustus wasn't awesome, because he was.)

We also spent an afternoon at the Capitoline Museum, where there is a great glass-roofed hall housing some remarkable and historic bronzes. This one is the very famous equestrian statue of Marcus Aurelius, the only such statue of a pre-Christian emperor still in existence. It survived the Christian fanaticism of the Middle Ages mainly because it was thought to depict the Christian Constantine; this sort of imperial statue was quite common in the Roman Empire, but all the others were melted down.


It's greenish because it used to be prominently displayed on a pedestal outdoors, but then people moved it inside and put up a replica instead, because of precipitation damage.

This one, from the same hall, is the equally well-known bronze of the Capitoline Wolf, with Romulus and Remus as suckling infants:


Its origins are still uncertain, with some art historians contending that the wolf was first cast in the Etruscan era and others (a minority) arguing that it was made in the 13th century (both parties agree that the twins were a later addition). Either way, it's an iconic sculpture in the modern consciousness, where Rome is concerned.

This is getting ridiculously long. I'll write a third post on the Vatican, and lump in the Renaissance stuff with it. Stay tuned for travelogue part 3!

Italy Travelogue, Part 1: Florence

I'm back! And as promised, highlights of the first leg of the trip:

Upon arrival in Florence, my father, my sister, and I decide to explore the neighborhood to scope out nearby sources of food and to pick up some essentials at the supermarket. We encounter a strange public service announcement spray-painted on a building. We aren't quite sure what it is all about, so we decide to take it very literally:


Anyhow, on to items of actual historical significance. These are the east doors of the Baptistery of St. John, which Michelangelo famously dubbed "the Gates of Paradise", because they are so beautiful. (They're actually a faithful replica; the real ones are in restoration.)


The first set of Ghiberti doors was actually commissioned for the north-facing entrance in a competition sponsored by the Florentine guild of wool merchants. He and Filippo Brunelleschi were tied for the commission, but Ghiberti, through sheer persistence (and Brunelleschi's temper didn't help), eventually won out. Brunelleschi swore off sculpture in a fit of spite, and took up architecture and engineering instead (and was astoundingly talented at both); he designed the famous dome of the Florentine cathedral Santa Maria Del Fiore, one of the architectural marvels of the Renaissance:


Further reading on the subject, if you're so inclined: Brunelleschi's Dome, by Ross King. It was an assigned reading for a course I took in freshman year on Renaissance machine design (the system of pulleys, cranes, and other machines that Brunelleschi created in the process of constructing his dome is quite amazing), and it's a wonderful (and short) read on its own.

We also went to the Museo dell Opera del Duomo, where the real Gates of Paradise are currently housed. That particular museum is a treasure trove of amazing works by famous Renaissance masters. Among them is the understated, somewhat mysterious Magdalene Penitent by Donatello:


It's most striking, methinks, in its depth of emotion. She's not particularly beautiful, but she's wonderfully tragic.

Also in the Museo dell Opera del Duomo is the second-most famous Michelangelo Pietà, where instead of the Virgin Mary (as is customary), he depicts Joseph of Arimathea holding the body of Jesus:


It's believed that this Joseph was actually a self-portrait; Michelangelo originally intended this sculpture to be placed at his own gravesite. It's beautiful, and unlike many of the other really famous masterpieces, there isn't any plexiglas or a ten-foot fence, so we could walk right up to it to admire it.

We saw a lot of other things, too, like the David (I trust you don't need another picture of him) and some of the Medici palaces and private chapels (some of these restricted photography, to preserve the artwork). Florence basically belonged to the Medicis during the Renaissance, so half the sites in the city from that era were Medici-related in some way.

Florence was smaller than I'd expected; given its prominence during the Renaissance, I had thought it would be much bigger. I'd forgotten that cities in general were smaller back then (comes of being a New Yorker, methinks). We could basically get everywhere on foot -- no public transportation adventures there!

Rome is next.

The Most Efficient Way to Mow a Lawn (article)

A whimsical, fun article on how to mow one's lawn in the most geometrically efficient way possible:

http://realestate.msn.com/listarticle.aspx?cp-documentid=25152485>1=35000

As was mentioned, we don't take particular care of our lawn (especially in the back), but my parents engage the local troupe of mowing-people (if there is a technical term for such, I don't know it) once a year in the spring. I wish they wouldn't; the mowing-people are rather careless with flowers, and have chopped the blooms off our daffodils every year since I've been in high school. I wouldn't mind if the yard were overgrown with weeds and wildflowers and sprawling hedges taller than I am -- I would rather enjoy the Secret Garden-esque feel of it, methinks. It's a pity my mother likes things neat, and that both my parents are afflicted with varying degrees of hayfever.

Prayer is Serious Business

A lamp at a Buddhist monastery, complete with poker face:

From Happy Chair.

Today

is the 130th anniversary of the completion of the Cologne Cathedral, a UNESCO World Heritage site and one of the most famous monuments in Germany. It took 632 years to finish (with interruptions, of course).

It holds the distinction of having the largest facade of any cathedral in the world, as well as the second-tallest cathedral spires. The gothic vaulted nave, I've been told, is breathtaking.

I know a few of you are studying abroad in Germany; this is a must-see historical site. Take pictures (please?)!

The Besieging Army is Larger Than Expected

I found this on Happy Chair a while back:


I can only imagine what the opposing army must have thought...

NYTimes: A Victorian Cabin

It's very quaint, the sort of thing that I'd build in my backyard, if I had the time and the woodworking savvy:

http://www.nytimes.com/slideshow/2010/06/23/garden/20100624-chic-slideshow.html?ref=garden

The lace is a bit much, I admit, and this slightly unstable-looking structure is not where I'd choose to house my hypothetical china collection, but I'd absolutely live in this sort of a house. The only nontrivial improvement I can think of would be to perhaps build it in a tree. A Victorian treehouse, perhaps?

Romantic Gardens Exhibit at the Morgan Museum

I do believe I've mentioned the Morgan Museum before. It was the private estate of the millionaire banker J. P. Morgan before he bequeathed it, in his will, unto the people of New York as a museum. It always has interesting exhibits, even though it's much smaller than, say, the Met. There's one in particular that's showing this summer, that I especially want to see. It's on the landscaping and outdoor architecture of manor estates during the Romantic period:

http://www.themorgan.org/exhibitions/exhibition.asp?id=27

NYTimes: Awesomest (Tree)House Ever

I've always had a bit of an obsession with treehouses (I wanted to live in one, as a permanent home, at one point), and this made my day:

http://www.nytimes.com/slideshow/2010/06/17/garden/20100617-location-slideshow.html

You have to admit it's pretty awesome. Right up there with jet-packs and hovercrafts.

NYTimes: The Besieged and the Beautiful in Languedoc

I'm particularly interested in the history of southern France, in part because of a fascination with troubadours, Eleanor of Aquitaine, castles, the Albigensian Crusade, and the area's medieval culture of arts. Anyhow, here's an article about it:

http://travel.nytimes.com/2010/05/09/travel/09Languedoc.html?8dpc

It is, in some ways, not surprising at all, that these old castles and grand landscapes were once the site of so much bloodshed. It is often the most beautiful places that have the darkest stories. After all, castles were originally built as fortresses, their imposing facades and crenellated towers meant to defend their inhabitants against besieging foes.

I'd dearly love to see the place at some point in my life. Anyone want to road-trip around southern France? (My high school French is rusty, but still serviceable, last I checked.)

Oh, and the lede line is brilliant.