Apple-picking at Nashoba

Apple harvest.

In early October, my daughter came up to Massachusetts to attend a wedding and we had a family outing to our favorite pick-your-own orchard, Nashoba Valley Winery, in Bolton. Their website is: http://www.nashobawinery.com/
We've been making family pilgrimages here since the kids were little to pick peaches, raspberries and apples, in season. At one point, previous owners of the orchard diversified into fruit wines; the current owners have added a micro-brewery and restaurant as well. Although we like the alcoholic offerings - try the raspberry wine - our focus remains on the fruit.

Visitors picnicking outside the retail store complex.

Cider donut with caramel sauce. I didn't share.

There's also a snack stand with donuts, drinks, etc. The joint was jumping, as the weather gods provided a classic New England sunny, sweatshirt kind of day.

Trees loaded with apples.

Jay carries the apple tote.

The air is sweet with apple aroma.

A view down the row.

We filled our tote very quickly.

Collage of three different apple varieties.

Julia and friend Bryan.

Julia next to the apple tree.

An old, old tree, still bearing.

The fruit of our labors, safely strapped in for the journey home.

The New Newton North High School

Plan of upper floor.

On Sunday, September 12, 2010, my husband and I joined what seemed like half of the population of our town for an open house at the new high school. This infamous project caused the downfall of our long-time mayor, and made Newton the object of many nasty comment posts on The Boston Globe's website.

This way, please.

The open house was really a self-guided tour along a prescribed route. Most of the building was, in fact, off limits, but there was still plenty to see. The choice of spaces on view spoke volumes about the priorities of the school community.

The mayor in glad-handing mode. He owes his election to the controversy surrounding this building.

Mayor Setti Warren was on hand, but former mayor David Cohen, who was pilloried unfairly, was nowhere to be seen, although he was at the official ribbon-cutting earlier in the year.

The new auditorium.

The first stop on the tour was Lasker Auditorium. At least, the old auditorium was named for music educator Henry Lasker and we assume the new auditorium retains that moniker, but we're not sure. The stage appears smaller, but there's more bells and whistles and, it appears, an orchestra pit.

In the old facility, our son Dan played oboe in "Les Miserables" with the orchestra seated off to the side of the auditorium. The music director had to loft his baton over his head so the kids in the back of the orchestra could see him. Dan had to use a battery-operated book light to see his music, as the wiring for his music stand was faulty and the light kept flickering on and off.

Tragic-comic banner in the console room.

The new "Main Street".

One feature of the old school that has been reincarnated here is an extra-generous "spine" of circulation on the first floor. It functioned as sort of an attenuated gathering space in the old school, which lacked any kind of entry lobby or atrium, and something of that is recalled in the new school. Think Las Ramblas, a little bit of Barcelona in New England.

A small child near us exclaimed "it's just like a mall".

The surfaces are certainly no frills; vinyl tile flooring, for example, and the walls are flat white. We're hoping that the white walls will serve as canvasses for student murals; the old school had many wonderful works of student art painted right on the walls.

The new Beals House office.

Each year at North is organized administratively as a "house", which sounds a little like prep school nomenclature. My children, being four years apart, had the same housemaster, who shall remain unnamed. Since they were not behavior challenges, I don't think he knew either child.

View of new tennis courts from a window.

There are a lot of green features in this building, including white roof surfaces to reflect the heat.

Mr. Snow's science class room.

One of two academic spaces on the tour was this science lab, with its overhead plug outlets and smartboard, some kind of white board with an integral projection screen. Powerpoint has taken over the world. Lab space and sinks circle the perimeter.

The new football field.

Coming from Michigan originally, I can't get excited over what passes for high school football in New England, but I'm glad there's a decent facility for the folks to whom football matters. On the other side of the field is the old Newton North, awaiting demolition. The designers of that structure are the real villains of this saga. What an awful building.

Tiger mascot in the press room overlooking the football field.

Looking down on the new "Main Street."

Passing above the entrance lobby, to the athletic facility part of the complex.

All of the athletic facilities were on display, including the pool, gym and something called the SOA or simulated outdoor area, with an indoor track.

Fitness room.

Another view of the fitness room. I was impressed.

The gym.

Signage outside the SOA.

While the building have a high price tag per square foot, the reporting on the construction project in outlets such as the Boston Globe and Boston Magazine was incomplete and inaccurate - writers sure liked state treasurer Tim Cahill's catch phrase "Taj Mahal school" and fastened onto that like barnicles to a schooner. The media overlooked the fact that the building houses three programs: a college prep program, a vocational education program and a regional program for deaf and hard-of-hearing kids as part of the EDCO state-wide consortium.

One could argue about the presence of a voc-ed school in a town like Newton, but the city has had a vocational training program since about 1906. While it includes an auto body shop, this program also includes wonderful programs like robotics and graphic production. Frankly, I think schools should be expanding so-called voc-ed programs - my electrician is a great guy and makes a bundle.

Entrance lobby.

Another reason for the high cost is the irregular footprint - look again at the plan below (first image in this blog too). Every jog, angle and bump-out raises the foundation cost, but given the site constraints the required spaces - gym, theatre, classrooms, etc. - had to be "folded", if you will, to fit. The site is bounded to the east by the area of the original Newton High School, now unbuildable land, as it is categorized by disturbed soil conditions - no longer load-bearing - and is loaded with hazardous materials. To the west is the old Newton North, which is full of asbestos-lined ductwork, although no one will discuss it.

Plan squeezes everything in, while maximizing natural light.

Exterior of the main entrance. End of tour.

The exterior of the building is clad in oversize brick with contrast color banding; I assume that this was one contribution of Graham Gund's office, as one hallmark of his designs is use of ornamentation and color. Oversize brick is about 20% larger than standard, and saves money, as there's less labor involved to cover a given area. I wish that David Cohen's spokesperson had done a better job of "selling" this building; instead the media and Tim Cahill were allowed to frame the discussion. In addition to educating students of all types, the new building will be used by many in the community for Newton Community Education classes, and will certainly last longer than the thirty-six years of its predecessor.

Big Bambu

DH on the roof of The Met.
The bamboo has much tactile appeal - you can't help but touch it.


View from The Met rooftop- great space, great view.

For several months this year that supreme vessel of culture, The Metropolitan Museum in the City of New York, has accessed its inner Robinson Crusoe and put a treehouse on its roof. The wonderful structure is formally titled "Big Bambu: You Can't, You Don't and You Won't Stop", and is conceived by twin brother artists Doug and Mike Starn.

Unlike the solitary Crusoe's shelter, however, this project is the product of a community of rock climbers, who began lashing lengths of bamboo together in March and will continue their high-wire building throughout the summer and early fall; the exhibit closes October 31. Although the structure itself is improvisational the art lover must plan ahead. While every visitor to The Met may go up to the rooftop, only 10 -15 people are allowed on each tour up and into the structure. Tickets are given out at specific times, with extra tours on Friday and Saturday. Our daughter joined the queue around 11:30 am on a Saturday; there were about twenty people ahead of us in line. You must be there in person to acquire a ticket and have a photo id. Shortly after noon we snaked up to the desk, and received tickets for the 3:30 pm tour.

We form an orderly queue.

The rules of conduct and attire for the tour.


The beginning of the tour.


View from up in the sculpture.

This exhibit was the first one I've experienced with rules, an upper weight limit for visitors (400 lbs.), a release form and a dress code. Enclosed, non slip footwear only - and they mean it - a slip could be trouble, as it's a long way down. Skirts are unwise, unless you want everyone to see France, and we left our handbags in lockers provided before walking up to the rooftop. I confess I took my camera and snapped a few illicit photos while on the tour.

Bamboo is hollow - hence lightweight -
except at the node between each segment of the culm, or stem.

Bamboo lashed to make a platform.
The bamboo gently flexes slightly as one walks on it.

Bamboo matrix contrasts with traditional architecture beyond.

Our tour guide was an enthusiastic young woman who gave us some of the background and technical details of the structure; one of our fellow visitors commented that he has worked in China and this is how they do scaffolding for buildings under construction. Another museum intern brought up the rear. The tour lasts about twenty minutes; we learn that on a previous tour a young man sat down on a sort of bamboo ledge, proposed and was accepted.

Daughter and rear guard at the end of the tour.

DH and daughter at end of tour.

The intern kindly gave us extra time to snap the photo before roping off the path.

Bamboo gate at end of the tour.

This installation, which I would strongly recommend visiting, affected me on many levels. I remember an art class at MIT during the '75-76 school year (yes, there are art classes at MIT) with the late sculptor Richard Filipowski. He asked us what was the first architectural connection. We looked confused - the mortise-and-tenon joint? No, the knot. When men and women first used fiber to connect sticks, that was the beginning of architecture. You see, it really does all come down to fiber.

Untitled, by Richard Filipowski.

credit: ACME Fine Arts Gallery, Boston.

I think Professor Filipowski would have appreciated the Starn's construction. The bamboo is tied together with assorted, multi-colored nylon cords, in a variety of knots, some recognizable from a camp manual, some uncategorizable. We always felt secure, however. Bamboo has incredible tensile strength, and there's a lot of redundancy in the structure.

Bamboo lashed, tied, bound, roped, made fast, secured - the verbs rush out.

Part of the structure christened the vortex,
If I'd shot this in black and white,
it could almost be an abstract expressionist "action painting".

We were lucky with weather for our trip in July - no heat wave that weekend - and enjoyed a bright sky, against which the bamboo formed a network of dark stripes.

Stem by stem, knot by knot, the bamboo forms - well, choose your metaphor:
neural lattice, multi-nodal network, interconnected web; you name it.

It would be fun to return on a weekday,
and watch the construction.

There are several types of bamboo, and the darker, greener type is
a denser, stronger stem. The color also changes over time.

I like her skirt in contrast with the monochrome bamboo.


The tour path.


You can see another tour group up in the structure.

Raw materials, from Georgia and South Carolina.

This structure has the exuberance and spontaneity to which Frank Gehry aspires. However, his buildings are functional, permanent structures that only posture improvisation - every odd-shaped window, every eccentrically loaded column, every bit of titanium sheathing of his costly designs is calculated, fabricated and modelled by sophisticated computer-aided software. The Met, that stolid, solid piece of neo-classical architecture, knows its place, but provides the perfect foil for these temporary installations. In much the same manner, Central Park provided the perfect backdrop for 2005 The Gates installation by Christo and Jeanne-Claude. I wouldn't want The Gates to be permanent - it was special partly because it was fleeting- and Central Park shone again for its mutability.

The fact that Big Bambu is temporary and ephemeral makes it all the more special. Historically, there used to be a lot more temporary construction than today; this may help explain the appeal of Gehry's buildings - we crave the novel but have lost the tradition that built jousting lists and coronation stands, so we allow the latest fashion into our permanent landscape and then wonder why our landscape lacks coherence. Today, the term "temporary architecture" means little more than emergency shelter; it used to encompass structures for celebrations and events.

Ever-changing shadow and light - as the artists say,
the only constant is change.