In the morning, we visit the Ring King. I almost missed out on this. The group tried to go yesterday while I was still traveling, but to my luck he was not there. Today, he is.
The Ring King is a man named Max who, aside from creating beautiful rings, practices general mayhem.
the ring king, max.
Max and a few of his friends hold photo shoots and cause general , including one called “Pool Massacre,” a sort of macabre poolside party, complete with a chainsaw-wielding maniac and a beautiful girl eating a severed leg.
He leads us through his studio/shop. There are display cases, postcards, artwork by an artist with whom he shares his space. In the back of the shop, he shows us a computer program connected to a handmade mill that produces whatever design he creates on the computer. He says his friend, who built the mill from spare parts, used motors from a car window because they are quieter.
homemade mill
He takes out a box of t-shirts, some of us buy them. A few of us buy rings. I take some stickers, cards, and other collateral materials. There is something to his skilled craftsmanship and irreverent, happy-go-lucky attitude that is both refreshing and inspiring, and I want little things to remind me. I am glad I didn’t miss out on this.
After lunch, we visit an architecture firm called Pichler & Traupmann. The Pichler has no relation to the Pichler of drawing fame. We are shown some excellent models. Johann is the architect who meets with us. He talks of designing the space, not the object. A flowing space. It has to be something you can go through. Useable terraces. I take down quick drawings, sketches, some lines. I take Johann’s stamp and stamp my sketchbook with it. The imprint is upside down.
We leave the office and take the bus out to a neighborhood in a suburban area. We walk down a street. The architecture is typical, traditional. Each house is gated. “You have to have context,” says Tate.
We walk for a kilometer or so, passing more and more of the same, the usual, the typical. Eventually we come to a gate of aluminum plates. Then we see the house.
part of the house
It is concrete, metal, glass. It is clean. We go in. The space is pure and true. We experience sequence, promenade, transition, connection, perspective. We are given so many opportunities to look. In nearly every spot, the house frames a view. Starck and others are used to furnish the space. I play with buttons on the walls which raise and lower blinds that are mounted on the outside of the house. Light courses through, brightening, casting shadows, dancing. It is such a space to live in.
I leave with a new appreciation for the home space. Learning about these architects and hearing them speak has been fascinating, but actually going to sites and moving through spaces have been the most profound experiences. The point is really driven home when you are standing in a space, feeling it, sketching it, experiencing it.
The Ring King is a man named Max who, aside from creating beautiful rings, practices general mayhem.
the ring king, max.
Max and a few of his friends hold photo shoots and cause general , including one called “Pool Massacre,” a sort of macabre poolside party, complete with a chainsaw-wielding maniac and a beautiful girl eating a severed leg.
He leads us through his studio/shop. There are display cases, postcards, artwork by an artist with whom he shares his space. In the back of the shop, he shows us a computer program connected to a handmade mill that produces whatever design he creates on the computer. He says his friend, who built the mill from spare parts, used motors from a car window because they are quieter.
homemade mill
He takes out a box of t-shirts, some of us buy them. A few of us buy rings. I take some stickers, cards, and other collateral materials. There is something to his skilled craftsmanship and irreverent, happy-go-lucky attitude that is both refreshing and inspiring, and I want little things to remind me. I am glad I didn’t miss out on this.
After lunch, we visit an architecture firm called Pichler & Traupmann. The Pichler has no relation to the Pichler of drawing fame. We are shown some excellent models. Johann is the architect who meets with us. He talks of designing the space, not the object. A flowing space. It has to be something you can go through. Useable terraces. I take down quick drawings, sketches, some lines. I take Johann’s stamp and stamp my sketchbook with it. The imprint is upside down.
We leave the office and take the bus out to a neighborhood in a suburban area. We walk down a street. The architecture is typical, traditional. Each house is gated. “You have to have context,” says Tate.
We walk for a kilometer or so, passing more and more of the same, the usual, the typical. Eventually we come to a gate of aluminum plates. Then we see the house.
part of the house
It is concrete, metal, glass. It is clean. We go in. The space is pure and true. We experience sequence, promenade, transition, connection, perspective. We are given so many opportunities to look. In nearly every spot, the house frames a view. Starck and others are used to furnish the space. I play with buttons on the walls which raise and lower blinds that are mounted on the outside of the house. Light courses through, brightening, casting shadows, dancing. It is such a space to live in.
I leave with a new appreciation for the home space. Learning about these architects and hearing them speak has been fascinating, but actually going to sites and moving through spaces have been the most profound experiences. The point is really driven home when you are standing in a space, feeling it, sketching it, experiencing it.
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