Not one of my own, and not the one that I work in, but the one down the street from the one I work in. Hands down one of the ugliest buildings on the planet. It's about 14-15 stories tall.....it starts off at the bottom with pink striped EIFS.....about 1/3 of the way up, they add white trellis detailing to the windows.....and 2/3 of the way up, it turns into a residental condo complex circa 1985. It's horrible. God I wish I had a picture. I'll work on that tomorrow.
there was a time in which i wanted to burn my crackhead of a neighbor's house down. preferably with his 25 junkie friends inside. then he faced foreclosure, sold it to a couple of architects, they tore it down and built anew.
a poem written by the austrian architecture deconstructivist firm COOP HIMMELBLAU.
"We want architecture to have more. Architecture that bleeds, that exhausts, that whirls and even breaks. Architecture that lights up, that stings, that rips and under stress tears. Architecture should be carvernous, fiery, smooth, hard, angular, brutal, round, delicate, colorful, obscene, voluptuous, dreamy, alluring, repelling, wet, dry and throbbing. Alive or dead. Cold - then cold as a block of ice. How - then hot as a blazing wing. Architecture must blaze."
I am for an art that is political-erotical-mystical, that does something other than sit on its ass in a museum.
I am for an art that grows up not knowing it is art at all, an art given the chance of having a staring point of zero.
I am for an art that embroils itself with the everyday crap & still comes out on top.
I am for an art that imitates the human, that is comic, if necessary, or violent, or whatever is necessary.
I am for an art that takes its form from the lines of life itself, that twists and extends and accumulates and spits and drips, and is heavy and coarse and blunt and sweet and stupid as life itself.
I am for an artist who vanishes, turning up in a white cap painting signs or hallways.
I am for an art that comes out of a chimney like black hair and scatters in the sky.
I am for an art that spills out of an old man's purse when he is bounced off a passing fender.
I am for the art out of a doggy's mouth, falling five stories from the roof.
I am for the art that a kid licks, after peeling away the wrapper.
I am for an art that joggles like everyones knees, when the bus traverses an excavation.
I am for art that is smoked, like a cigarette, smells, like a pair of shoes.
I am for art that flaps like a flag or helps blow noses, like a handkerchief.
I am for art that is put on and taken off, like pants, which develops holes, like socks, which is eaten, like a piece of pie, or abandoned with great contempt, like a piece of shit.
I am for art covered with bandages, I am for art that limps and rolls and runs and jumps. I am for art comes in a can or washes up on the shore.
I am for art that coils and grunts like a wrestler. I am for art that sheds hair.
I am for art you can sit on. I am for art you can pick your nose with or stub your toes on.
I am for art from a pocket, from deep channels of the ear, from the edge of a knife, from the corners of the mouth, stuck in the eye or worn on the wrist.
I am for art under the skirts, and the art of pinching cockroaches.
I am for the art of conversation between the sidewalk and a blind mans metal stick.
I am for the art that grows in a pot, that comes down out of the skies at night, like lightning, that hides in the clouds and growls. I am for art that is flipped on and off with a switch.
I am for art that unfolds like a map, that you can squeeze, like your sweetys arm, or kiss, like a pet dog. Which expands and squeaks, like an accordion, which you can spill your dinner on, like an old tablecloth.
I am for an art that you can hammer with, stitch with, sew with, paste with, file with.
I am for an art that tells you the time of day, or where such and such a street is.
I am for an art that helps old ladies across the street.
I am for the art of the washing machine. I am for the art of a government check. I am for the art of last wars raincoat.
I am for the art that comes up in fogs from sewer-holes in winter. I am for the art that splits when you step on a frozen puddle. I am for the worms art inside the apple. I am for the art of sweat that develops between crossed legs.
I am for the art of neck-hair and caked tea-cups, for the art between the tines of restaurant forks, for odor of boiling dishwater.
I am for the art of sailing on Sunday, and the art of red and white gasoline pumps.
I am for the art of bright blue factory columns and blinking biscuit signs.
I am for the art of cheap plaster and enamel. I am for the art of worn marble and smashed slate. I am for the art of rolling cobblestones and sliding sand. I am for the art of slag and black coal. I am for the art of dead birds.
I am for the art of scratchings in the asphalt, daubing at the walls. I am for the art of bending and kicking metal and breaking glass, and pulling at things to make them fall down.
I am for the art of punching and skinned knees and sat-on bananas. I am for the art of kids' smells. I am for the art of mama-babble.
I am for the art of bar-babble, tooth-picking, beerdrinking, egg-salting, in-sulting. I am for the art of falling off a bartstool.
I am for the art of underwear and the art of taxicabs. I am for the art of ice-cream cones dropped on concrete. I am for the majestic art of dog-turds, rising like cathedrals.
I am for the blinking arts, lighting up the night. I am for art falling, splashing, wiggling, jumping, going on and off.
I am for the art of fat truck-tires and black eyes.
I am for Kool-art, 7-UP art, Pepsi-art, Sunshine art, 39 cents art, 15 cents art, Vatronol Art, Dro-bomb art, Vam art, Menthol art, L & M art Ex-lax art, Venida art, Heaven Hill art, Pamryl art, San-o-med art, Rx art, 9.99 art, Now art, New ar, How art, Fire sale art, Last Chance art, Only art, Diamond art, Tomorrow art, Franks art, Ducks art, Meat-o-rama art.
I am for the art of bread wet by rain. I am for the rat's dance between floors. I am for the art of flies walking on a slick pear in the electric light. I am for the art of soggy onions and firm green shoots. I am for the art of clicking among the nuts when the roaches come and go. I am for the brown sad art of rotting apples.
I am for the art of meowls and clatter of cats and for the art of their dumb electric eyes.
I am for the white art of refigerators and their muscular openings and closing.
I am for the art of rust and mold. I am for the art of hearts, funeral hearts or sweetheart hearts, full of nougat. I am for the art of worn meathooks and singing barrels of red, white, blue and yellow meat.
I am for the art of things lost or thrown away, coming home from school. I am for the art of cock-and-ball trees and flying cows and the noise of rectangles and squares. I am for for the art of crayons and weak grey pencil-lead, and grainy wash and sticky oil paint, and the art of windshield wipers and the art of the finger on a cold window, on dusty steel or in the bubbles on the sides of a bathtub.
I am for the art of teddy-bears and guns and decapitated rabbits, explodes umbrellas, raped beds, chairs with their brown bones broken, burning trees, firecracker ends, chicken bones, pigeon bones, and boxes with men sleeping in them.
I am for the art of slightly rotten funeral flowers, hung bloody rabbits and wrinkly yellow chickens, bass drums & tambourines, and plastic phonographs.
I am for the art of abandoned boxes, tied like pharohs. I am for an art of watertanks and speeding clouds and flapping shades.
I am for U.S. Government Inspected Art, Grade A art, Regular Price art, Yellow Ripe art, Extra Fancy art, Ready-to-eat art, Best-for-less art, Ready-to-cook art, Fully cleaned art, Spend Less art, Eat Better art, Ham art, Pork art, chicken art, tomato art, bana art, apple art, turkey art, cake art, cookie art.
add:
I am for an art that is combed down, that is hung from each ear, that is laid on the lips and under the eyes, that is shaved from the legs, that is burshed on the teeth, that is fixed on the thighs, that is slipped on the foot.
What seems so frustrating is that most suburbs would love to have their faceless walmart (or any other big box store) dressed up in the above rendered equestrian theme... Arguably, the equestrian theme is marginally better than the unadorned box. (Not an arguement I particularly feel like having, however.)
Gasoline and matches are no match for the masses' desire for the suburban (lack of) aesthetic.
i'd like to set fire to my ram, whose crap latency is making impossible to render anything bigger than a coin.
i'd like to set fire to spring house, one of the uggliest faculty buildings i have ever had the pleasure of encountering
i'd like to set fire to the european community in brussel, because all you seem to be worried about is making more money for your lobbies, rather than making this a real union, where people can travel and work and qualify in any country ithout having to face countless forms, offices, uniformed staff and waiting times.
i'd like to set fire to myself, because for the past five days i haven't found any inspiration in what i'm doing, and i am just dragging along, with a portfolio submission on monday.
i'd like to set fire to the nice people at autodesk and mcneil, for not getting their asses in gear and making mac-compatible versions of their softwares, which means i have to put up with this shit machines with a shit os with a shit interface.
i'd like to set fire to my housemate C., who hasn't washed his dishes in a week, and shaves everyday leaving us with a furry sink in the bathroom.
i'd like to set fire to vodafone for charging 50p a message to foreign mobiles, which by the way are vodafone as well. globalization my ass.
yeah, i know, i had to go to the gym to relieve the stress.
lukily i have in on the kill taker on itunes, but it ain't the same man, it ain't the same...
BOTS: how do you find your own place there? i mean, is each house issued with a standard wife and 2.7 kids, so no matter where you stop it's all the same?
i would burn myself if i had to pump cad all day on those beauties. i am glad integrity is not an important value of some archtects these days. i just dont understand why everyone wants to live in the same house.
like i always say, the more gables on the front, the better the house.
I just want to mention, that every time I read a post by post-neorealcrapismist, I usually end up trying to stifle a lot of laughter whilst sitting quietly at my desk. Am still cracking up at the "a-game" comment from whatever other thread that was on.
Damn, that Wal-Mart is tempting. Personally I'll prefer the unadorned box over that thing. Who the hell is doing designs for Wal-Mart anyway? Probably some hayseed hicks in Bentonville AR that think that's high design.
I worked on some suburban high schools that really wouldn't bring tears to my eyes if they burned. Really they aren't much more than a Wal-Mart - sprawling 400,000 sq. ft. mega boxes with more windows and equally large parking lots. Always built on lots like this...
Another thing that comes to mind is the public storage facilities. Dozens of garages in a fenced lot for people to store all the crap they buy from Wal-Mart and don't need. Yuck...
Note of Interest....Fay Jones designed Sam Waltons Home.....don't think I want to burn it or any other building. We loose to much good
architecture that way.....Frank Lloyd Wright Lost one in the Biltmore development in Phoenix as did Will Bruder. Goff Lost the Price House
in Oklahoma and another in Minnesota. I'm sure there are many others burns which for the most part have gone unknown over the years just because people don't give a damn.
“no more painters, no more scribblers, no more musicians, no more sculptors, no more religions, no more royalists, no more radicals, no more imperialists, no more anarchists, no more socialists, no more communists, no more proletariat, no more democrats, no more republicans, no more bourgeois, no more aristocrats, no more arms, no more police, no more nations, an end at last to all this stupidity, nothing left, nothing at all, nothing, nothing.â€
-louis aragon (1897-1982), manifesto of the dada movement 5 feb 1920
I've always been intrigued by the ELF people burning up stuff. Although I support their views to some degree, it just doesn't make sense to torch a suburban McMansion or a Hummer on a dealer lot. Up in smoke goes a whole lot of embodied energy, and for what? They will rebuild the house and make another SUV.
On the other hand, it sure is fun to watch a good ol' fire every once in a while. Maybe they are just pyro's with a cause.
A, there was a guy running around Phoenix torching houses under construction at the edge of the Phoenix Mountain Preserve a few years ago - he torched my sister's house - and you're right, it makes no sense as any klnd of environmental statement. Up in smoke goes so much material energy, and in the desert using a single drop of water to fight a fire is a huge waste.
Vado, you made me think of dadara, the creator of greyman and the smiling devil. He also created the fools ark, which was designed to burn...
btw.
Back in the eighties my little brother set fire to our primary school. Not on purpose though, he made a fire with a friend and they didn't put it out good enough, resulting in the burning of the storage. They caught him 'cos he forgot his gloves, since he did this often my mum wrote his name and address in them...
It wasn't very nice for my parents i guess, but my brother reached the status of ultimate coolness.
not to mention material energy, the toxins that are released into the air are enormous and counter to ELFs real mission/goals of protecting the environment. i find it ignorant.
If You Had A Can Of Gasoline And A Pack of Matches...
What building would you burn down and why? Extra points if it is one of your own buildings...
Not one of my own, and not the one that I work in, but the one down the street from the one I work in. Hands down one of the ugliest buildings on the planet. It's about 14-15 stories tall.....it starts off at the bottom with pink striped EIFS.....about 1/3 of the way up, they add white trellis detailing to the windows.....and 2/3 of the way up, it turns into a residental condo complex circa 1985. It's horrible. God I wish I had a picture. I'll work on that tomorrow.
experience music proj.
I'd be headed for the Getty Center to give the smoldering landscape back to the mountain lions. Does porcelain enameled steel burn, or just melt?
vado...
dude..what irresponsible behaviour is this... ?
how can u attempt to ingrain methods of violence and arson in young,impressionable,gullible and soft minds like all of us over here ?
shame on you..tch ! tch !!
no points for you.
howard would be proud vado.
there was a time in which i wanted to burn my crackhead of a neighbor's house down. preferably with his 25 junkie friends inside. then he faced foreclosure, sold it to a couple of architects, they tore it down and built anew.
All the pseudo greek-roman-confused baroque- gothic modern residential high rise buildings....
ALL OF THEM !!!!!
For those who aren't familar with this..
a poem written by the austrian architecture deconstructivist firm COOP HIMMELBLAU.
"We want architecture to have more. Architecture that bleeds, that exhausts, that whirls and even breaks. Architecture that lights up, that stings, that rips and under stress tears. Architecture should be carvernous, fiery, smooth, hard, angular, brutal, round, delicate, colorful, obscene, voluptuous, dreamy, alluring, repelling, wet, dry and throbbing. Alive or dead. Cold - then cold as a block of ice. How - then hot as a blazing wing. Architecture must blaze."
ARCHITECTURE MUST BLAZE (1980--Coop Himmelblau )
where art thou..vado ?????
would`nt want to see this-
I am for an art that is political-erotical-mystical, that does something other than sit on its ass in a museum.
I am for an art that grows up not knowing it is art at all, an art given the chance of having a staring point of zero.
I am for an art that embroils itself with the everyday crap & still comes out on top.
I am for an art that imitates the human, that is comic, if necessary, or violent, or whatever is necessary.
I am for an art that takes its form from the lines of life itself, that twists and extends and accumulates and spits and drips, and is heavy and coarse and blunt and sweet and stupid as life itself.
I am for an artist who vanishes, turning up in a white cap painting signs or hallways.
I am for an art that comes out of a chimney like black hair and scatters in the sky.
I am for an art that spills out of an old man's purse when he is bounced off a passing fender.
I am for the art out of a doggy's mouth, falling five stories from the roof.
I am for the art that a kid licks, after peeling away the wrapper.
I am for an art that joggles like everyones knees, when the bus traverses an excavation.
I am for art that is smoked, like a cigarette, smells, like a pair of shoes.
I am for art that flaps like a flag or helps blow noses, like a handkerchief.
I am for art that is put on and taken off, like pants, which develops holes, like socks, which is eaten, like a piece of pie, or abandoned with great contempt, like a piece of shit.
I am for art covered with bandages, I am for art that limps and rolls and runs and jumps. I am for art comes in a can or washes up on the shore.
I am for art that coils and grunts like a wrestler. I am for art that sheds hair.
I am for art you can sit on. I am for art you can pick your nose with or stub your toes on.
I am for art from a pocket, from deep channels of the ear, from the edge of a knife, from the corners of the mouth, stuck in the eye or worn on the wrist.
I am for art under the skirts, and the art of pinching cockroaches.
I am for the art of conversation between the sidewalk and a blind mans metal stick.
I am for the art that grows in a pot, that comes down out of the skies at night, like lightning, that hides in the clouds and growls. I am for art that is flipped on and off with a switch.
I am for art that unfolds like a map, that you can squeeze, like your sweetys arm, or kiss, like a pet dog. Which expands and squeaks, like an accordion, which you can spill your dinner on, like an old tablecloth.
I am for an art that you can hammer with, stitch with, sew with, paste with, file with.
I am for an art that tells you the time of day, or where such and such a street is.
I am for an art that helps old ladies across the street.
I am for the art of the washing machine. I am for the art of a government check. I am for the art of last wars raincoat.
I am for the art that comes up in fogs from sewer-holes in winter. I am for the art that splits when you step on a frozen puddle. I am for the worms art inside the apple. I am for the art of sweat that develops between crossed legs.
I am for the art of neck-hair and caked tea-cups, for the art between the tines of restaurant forks, for odor of boiling dishwater.
I am for the art of sailing on Sunday, and the art of red and white gasoline pumps.
I am for the art of bright blue factory columns and blinking biscuit signs.
I am for the art of cheap plaster and enamel. I am for the art of worn marble and smashed slate. I am for the art of rolling cobblestones and sliding sand. I am for the art of slag and black coal. I am for the art of dead birds.
I am for the art of scratchings in the asphalt, daubing at the walls. I am for the art of bending and kicking metal and breaking glass, and pulling at things to make them fall down.
I am for the art of punching and skinned knees and sat-on bananas. I am for the art of kids' smells. I am for the art of mama-babble.
I am for the art of bar-babble, tooth-picking, beerdrinking, egg-salting, in-sulting. I am for the art of falling off a bartstool.
I am for the art of underwear and the art of taxicabs. I am for the art of ice-cream cones dropped on concrete. I am for the majestic art of dog-turds, rising like cathedrals.
I am for the blinking arts, lighting up the night. I am for art falling, splashing, wiggling, jumping, going on and off.
I am for the art of fat truck-tires and black eyes.
I am for Kool-art, 7-UP art, Pepsi-art, Sunshine art, 39 cents art, 15 cents art, Vatronol Art, Dro-bomb art, Vam art, Menthol art, L & M art Ex-lax art, Venida art, Heaven Hill art, Pamryl art, San-o-med art, Rx art, 9.99 art, Now art, New ar, How art, Fire sale art, Last Chance art, Only art, Diamond art, Tomorrow art, Franks art, Ducks art, Meat-o-rama art.
I am for the art of bread wet by rain. I am for the rat's dance between floors. I am for the art of flies walking on a slick pear in the electric light. I am for the art of soggy onions and firm green shoots. I am for the art of clicking among the nuts when the roaches come and go. I am for the brown sad art of rotting apples.
I am for the art of meowls and clatter of cats and for the art of their dumb electric eyes.
I am for the white art of refigerators and their muscular openings and closing.
I am for the art of rust and mold. I am for the art of hearts, funeral hearts or sweetheart hearts, full of nougat. I am for the art of worn meathooks and singing barrels of red, white, blue and yellow meat.
I am for the art of things lost or thrown away, coming home from school. I am for the art of cock-and-ball trees and flying cows and the noise of rectangles and squares. I am for for the art of crayons and weak grey pencil-lead, and grainy wash and sticky oil paint, and the art of windshield wipers and the art of the finger on a cold window, on dusty steel or in the bubbles on the sides of a bathtub.
I am for the art of teddy-bears and guns and decapitated rabbits, explodes umbrellas, raped beds, chairs with their brown bones broken, burning trees, firecracker ends, chicken bones, pigeon bones, and boxes with men sleeping in them.
I am for the art of slightly rotten funeral flowers, hung bloody rabbits and wrinkly yellow chickens, bass drums & tambourines, and plastic phonographs.
I am for the art of abandoned boxes, tied like pharohs. I am for an art of watertanks and speeding clouds and flapping shades.
I am for U.S. Government Inspected Art, Grade A art, Regular Price art, Yellow Ripe art, Extra Fancy art, Ready-to-eat art, Best-for-less art, Ready-to-cook art, Fully cleaned art, Spend Less art, Eat Better art, Ham art, Pork art, chicken art, tomato art, bana art, apple art, turkey art, cake art, cookie art.
add:
I am for an art that is combed down, that is hung from each ear, that is laid on the lips and under the eyes, that is shaved from the legs, that is burshed on the teeth, that is fixed on the thighs, that is slipped on the foot.
square which becomes blobby
I am for an Art (May 1961 - Claes Oldenburg)
Which came first, the chicken (in the form of an equestrian themed walmart)
or the egg (in the form of spanish colonial themed mcmansions)?
Either way, I'd like to burn the lot of them.
(thanks to boxtank for the first image)
oops - make that "I'd like to see them burn" - I wouldn't do it myself of course....
What seems so frustrating is that most suburbs would love to have their faceless walmart (or any other big box store) dressed up in the above rendered equestrian theme... Arguably, the equestrian theme is marginally better than the unadorned box. (Not an arguement I particularly feel like having, however.)
Gasoline and matches are no match for the masses' desire for the suburban (lack of) aesthetic.
Sculpture for Living
I am with lb. I'd like to burn every f'n Walmart.
i'd like to set fire to my ram, whose crap latency is making impossible to render anything bigger than a coin.
i'd like to set fire to spring house, one of the uggliest faculty buildings i have ever had the pleasure of encountering
i'd like to set fire to the european community in brussel, because all you seem to be worried about is making more money for your lobbies, rather than making this a real union, where people can travel and work and qualify in any country ithout having to face countless forms, offices, uniformed staff and waiting times.
i'd like to set fire to myself, because for the past five days i haven't found any inspiration in what i'm doing, and i am just dragging along, with a portfolio submission on monday.
i'd like to set fire to the nice people at autodesk and mcneil, for not getting their asses in gear and making mac-compatible versions of their softwares, which means i have to put up with this shit machines with a shit os with a shit interface.
i'd like to set fire to my housemate C., who hasn't washed his dishes in a week, and shaves everyday leaving us with a furry sink in the bathroom.
i'd like to set fire to vodafone for charging 50p a message to foreign mobiles, which by the way are vodafone as well. globalization my ass.
and finally, i want to listen to the instrument by fugaz, but the cd drive in my mac stopped working after the car crash, so it's not going to happen.
oh, by the way:
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!
Ah. Nothing worse than Fugazi blockage. Seek immediate help.
Longaberger Basket Headquarters
no explanation required
yeah, i know, i had to go to the gym to relieve the stress.
lukily i have in on the kill taker on itunes, but it ain't the same man, it ain't the same...
BOTS: how do you find your own place there? i mean, is each house issued with a standard wife and 2.7 kids, so no matter where you stop it's all the same?
i would burn myself if i had to pump cad all day on those beauties. i am glad integrity is not an important value of some archtects these days. i just dont understand why everyone wants to live in the same house.
like i always say, the more gables on the front, the better the house.
Don't burn the Getty Centre, Janosh!
Faux-Classical is one thing, the Getty Centre is another!
if we start here, we can save the world.
I just want to mention, that every time I read a post by post-neorealcrapismist, I usually end up trying to stifle a lot of laughter whilst sitting quietly at my desk. Am still cracking up at the "a-game" comment from whatever other thread that was on.
And ditto, beta, that's the nastiest building west of the one I mentioned earlier. My god it's just gross.
i think someone in atl should fess up to burning down that chunk of atlantic station a while back
Yep - Beta you nailed it. Most pomo Graves, Venturi-Scott Brown & throw in post-bilbao Gehry (esp. MIT building)...
Damn, that Wal-Mart is tempting. Personally I'll prefer the unadorned box over that thing. Who the hell is doing designs for Wal-Mart anyway? Probably some hayseed hicks in Bentonville AR that think that's high design.
I worked on some suburban high schools that really wouldn't bring tears to my eyes if they burned. Really they aren't much more than a Wal-Mart - sprawling 400,000 sq. ft. mega boxes with more windows and equally large parking lots. Always built on lots like this...
Another thing that comes to mind is the public storage facilities. Dozens of garages in a fenced lot for people to store all the crap they buy from Wal-Mart and don't need. Yuck...
Note of Interest....Fay Jones designed Sam Waltons Home.....don't think I want to burn it or any other building. We loose to much good
architecture that way.....Frank Lloyd Wright Lost one in the Biltmore development in Phoenix as did Will Bruder. Goff Lost the Price House
in Oklahoma and another in Minnesota. I'm sure there are many others burns which for the most part have gone unknown over the years just because people don't give a damn.
Burn all soap manufacturing buildings!
hmm, why are all of us behaving like hippies?
Good question. I think this is just one of Vado's fun little exercises.
The next thread should be "What building would you rebuild if it were completely destroyed?"
if u burned all the soap then you couldnt wash the gasoline smell off your hands.
“no more painters, no more scribblers, no more musicians, no more sculptors, no more religions, no more royalists, no more radicals, no more imperialists, no more anarchists, no more socialists, no more communists, no more proletariat, no more democrats, no more republicans, no more bourgeois, no more aristocrats, no more arms, no more police, no more nations, an end at last to all this stupidity, nothing left, nothing at all, nothing, nothing.â€
-louis aragon (1897-1982), manifesto of the dada movement 5 feb 1920
I've always been intrigued by the ELF people burning up stuff. Although I support their views to some degree, it just doesn't make sense to torch a suburban McMansion or a Hummer on a dealer lot. Up in smoke goes a whole lot of embodied energy, and for what? They will rebuild the house and make another SUV.
On the other hand, it sure is fun to watch a good ol' fire every once in a while. Maybe they are just pyro's with a cause.
A, there was a guy running around Phoenix torching houses under construction at the edge of the Phoenix Mountain Preserve a few years ago - he torched my sister's house - and you're right, it makes no sense as any klnd of environmental statement. Up in smoke goes so much material energy, and in the desert using a single drop of water to fight a fire is a huge waste.
But its fun to imagine!
Vado, you made me think of dadara, the creator of greyman and the smiling devil. He also created the fools ark, which was designed to burn...
btw.
Back in the eighties my little brother set fire to our primary school. Not on purpose though, he made a fire with a friend and they didn't put it out good enough, resulting in the burning of the storage. They caught him 'cos he forgot his gloves, since he did this often my mum wrote his name and address in them...
It wasn't very nice for my parents i guess, but my brother reached the status of ultimate coolness.
Vado, you made me think of dadara, the creator of greyman and the smiling devil. He also created the fools ark, which was designed to burn...
not to mention material energy, the toxins that are released into the air are enormous and counter to ELFs real mission/goals of protecting the environment. i find it ignorant.
Block this user
Are you sure you want to block this user and hide all related comments throughout the site?
Archinect
This is your first comment on Archinect. Your comment will be visible once approved.