The traditional interpretation is that the church foundation goes back to the reign of Egica in the seventh century, having been built between 680 and before the Muslim conquest of Hispania in 711; San Pedro de la Nave would thus be one of the last works of Visigothic architecture. However, the most recent archaeological studies have proven it to be not Visigothic, but Mozarabic (so, 9th century or 10th century in date).
Mozarabic or Vizigothic, it’s still Pre-Romanesque and very, very, cool.
37 photos here.
After some years of enjoying the festive social life of Virginia Hunt Country, Karen and I are finding the absence of society here at our farm in the Central Pennsylvania boondocks a little dull. Moreover, with old age comes arthritis and one feels the winter cold in the knees.
Despite my Northeastern Pennsylvania Coal Region origins, I have old-fashioned tastes and apparently a natural rapport with Virginia. When I arrived at Yale, a number of my classmates misspelled “David Zincavage” as “Davidson Cavidge,” having leapt to the conclusion based on the formality of my dress and manners that I was of Virginia gentry background.
A return to Old Virginia is tempting, but Occupied Virginia inside, and now sprawling over the beltway, loaded as it is with functionaries and bureaucrats all battening on the Federal purse, combined with the welfare class of the Commonwealth’s handful of large cities, recently successfully outvoted the natives and returned Virginia to a revolutionary Reconstruction regime run by Scallywags, Carpetbaggers, and African-American demagogues and mountebanks. I’m not sure my blood pressure would stand a closer proximity to Virginia politics. So we’ve been looking for an affordable very old, very large house (we have an enormous library) further South, hopefully in proximity to an organized fox hunt.
I came, last night, upon a really beautiful North Carolina house (in Milton) which is unfortunately too small, but which has really beautiful architectural detail apparently by a local free black cabinetmaker-woodworker. I think his newel post is a delightful piece of imaginative design. If you lived there, you’d smile every time you saw it.
Thomas Day (1801-1861) was a free black furniture craftsman and cabinetmaker in Milton, Caswell County, North Carolina. Born a free black man in Dinwiddie County, Virginia, Day moved to Milton in 1817 and became a highly successful businessman, boasting the largest and most productive workshop in the state during the 1850s. Day catered to high-class white clientele and was respected among his white peers for his craftsmanship and work ethic. Day came from a free and relatively well-off family and was privately educated. Today, Day’s pieces are highly sought after and sell for high prices; his work has been heavily studied and displayed in museums such as the North Carolina Museum of History. Day is heralded in modern society as an incredibly skilled craftsman and savvy businessman. …
With his furniture designs so popular and highly sought-after, it was no surprise that Day began to provide architectural work to homes in his region as well. In this architectural work, Day employed many of the same design motifs as in his furniture, playing again off his own interpretation of the Grecian/Greek Revival Style. For large plantation homes in the North Carolina and Virginia areas, Day provided mantle pieces, stair brackets and newel posts, and door frames among other architectural work. His work focused on symmetry, and he often incorporated similar or complementary designs in the newel posts and stair brackets to create a balance of design and to emphasize his furniture designs, since many homes he did architectural work for also boasted multiple furniture works by Day. As with his furniture designs, it appears that Day’s initial architectural designs stemmed from popular architectural pattern books; to these, Day would again add his personal design motifs to create unique products.
In his work on door frames, scholars agree that Day created both sidelights and transoms for interior doors in many homes he worked on. These architectural elements are characterized by the repetitive use of rectangular patterns. Day also often created newel posts for staircases, which he commonly designed utilizing s-curves and elongated scroll shapes, which represented Day’s interpretation of the traditional newel post; Day’s posts were both larger and longer than the classic Greek Revival Style posts, and are emphasized by the simplistic stair banisters that accompany them. As with his furniture, Day took the popular design of the newel post and added his own stylistic flair through his scroll curves. In crafting these newel posts, Day employed four different types of newels: s-shaped, traditional, a fusion of the two, or completely unique designs; today, twenty-five s-shaped newel posts have been attributed to Day. Day crafted stair brackets to match and complement these newel posts, again employing curvatures and wave motifs that, combined with the newel posts, suggested a tranquil fluidity.
There are so many recent examples of prestigious establishment media outlets publishing absolutely bonkers essays that could only have been produced by people so impacted by toxic ideologies that they are not properly oriented toward reality and actually belong in mental hospitals that it’s become impossible to link, and marvel at, them all. So I’m simply going to try to pick the occasional particularly exceptionally deranged example.
This week’s winner has to be Leslie Kern for her “‘Upward-thrusting buildings ejaculating into the sky’ â€“ do cities have to be so sexist?“:
Toxic masculinity is built into the fabric of our urban spaces, writes Leslie Kern, author of new book Feminist City. And the results arenâ€™t just divisive â€“ they can be lethal
Glass ceilings and phallic towers. Mean streets and dark alleys. Road names and statues of men. From the physical to the metaphorical, the city is filled with reminders of masculine power. And yet we rarely talk of the urban landscape as an active participant in gender inequality. A building, no matter how phallic, isnâ€™t actually misogynist, is it? Surely a skyscraper isnâ€™t responsible for sexual harassment, the wage gap, or even the glass ceiling, whether it has a literal one up top or not?
That said, our built environments can still reflect patterns of gender-based discrimination. To imagine the city and its structures as neutral places where complicated human social relations are staged is to ignore the simple fact that people built these places. As the feminist geographer Jane Darke has said: â€œOur cities are patriarchy written in stone, brick, glass and concrete.â€ In other words, cities reflect the norms of the societies that build them. And sexism is a deep-rooted norm.
As far back as 1977, an American poet and professor of architecture named Dolores Hayden wrote an article with the explosive headline â€œSkyscraper seduction, skyscraper rapeâ€. Hayden tore into the male power fantasies embodied in this celebrated urban form. The office tower, she wrote, is one more addition â€œto the procession of phallic monuments in history â€“ including poles, obelisks, spires, columns and watchtowersâ€, where architects un-ironically use the language of â€œbase, shaft and tipâ€ while drawing upward-thrusting buildings ejaculating light into the night sky.
If the sexism of the city began and ended with architectural symbolism, I wouldâ€™ve happily written a grad school essay about this then turned my attention to more pressing matters. But societyâ€™s historical and ongoing ideas about the proper gender roles for men and women (organised along a narrow binary) are built right into our cities â€“ and they still matter.
All versions of Leftism seem to boil down to pathological self-absorption, leading to the concoction of the most far-fetched sort of grievances, flattering the leftist’s self-importance and providing leverage for his (or her) gaining power through the guilt and sympathy of the normal majority.
When you learn more about it, and how much work they did restoring it, you wonder why Mark had not gotten himself an M2 Browning .50 caliber machine gun, just in case…
St. Louis Magazine, 2018 feature:
When attorneys Mark and Patty McCloskey bought their home in February of 1988, it was the color of cigarette ashes. Still dirty from the days when St. Louis lay under a blanket of coal smoke, the homeâ€™s Carthage marble facing â€œhad quarter-inch-thick carbon on it in some places,â€ Mark says. The two Carrara marble urns out front, copies of a pair at the Vatican, had turned black, obscuring Neptune and his attending dolphins. The imported Caen limestone in the entry hall had been painted battleship gray, and the intricate wood carvings in the dining room (which, as Mark points out, are so detailed, you can see the birdsâ€™ individual claws), were smothered in layers of white and robinâ€™s-egg blue. What had once been St. Louisâ€™ most dazzling mansion now felt more like a haunted house. It didnâ€™t help that the first time Mark and Patty turned the key in the door, the temperature had fallen to 4 below zero and the house didnâ€™t have a functioning furnace. The prior owner had heated the house with 48 kerosene space heaters that had since been removed.
The McCloskeys joke that they were too young and naÃ¯ve to know what theyâ€™d signed up for. But 30 years later, the house is as magnificent as it was when Edward and Anna Busch Faust held court here, meeting guests at the top of the grand staircase for afternoon tea or smoking cigars around the billiard table in the sub-basement.
Adolphus and Lilly Busch, the story goes, celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary by giving their children money to build houses. â€œAugust Sr. built Grantâ€™s Farm,â€ Patty says. â€œHugo Reisinger, who was married to one of the sisters [Edmee Busch Reisinger], built a big house on Fifth Avenue. Wilhelmina built a castle in Bavariaâ€¦â€
And Anna and Edwardâ€”son of Tony Faust, Adolphusâ€™ best friendâ€”set out to build a Renaissance palazzo. â€œThe goal was to build one of the most lavish and grand houses in the Midwest,â€ says Patty. …
The dining room is a re-creation of a residence chamber in the Palazzo Pitti in Florence, constructed in 1458 by Luca Pitti, though its more famous residents included the Medicis and Napoleon Bonaparte. It took six people an entire year to carefully remove multiple layers of paint glommed over the intricate woodwork. The ceiling murals, however, were in great shape: â€œThe guy who owns St. Louis Architectural Bronze said that when he was an art student at Wash. U., he lived here for two years, restoring the ceiling,â€ Mark says. â€œThis is all on canvas, and it had all fallen in. He put it back up and repainted the parts that needed to be repainted, and you canâ€™t tell.â€ Across the way in the solarium are gorgeous reproductions of 16th-century stained-glass windows decorated with cartouches, putti, and stylized vegetation, copies of the famous ones in Michelangeloâ€™s Laurentian Library in Florence. And beyond those glowing panes is one of the most remarkable parts of the house: the ballroom.
Itâ€™s 70 feet long and 45 feet wide, a reproduction of the second-floor reception hall at the 14th-century Palazzo Davanzati in Florence. â€œThe glass in the windows is actually from there,â€ Patty says, â€œand the shutters, at least the ironwork, are probably original.â€ Thatâ€™s because in 1916, the year the ballroom was built, most of the palaceâ€™s contents were sold off; the McCloskeys found two of the original chairs at auction, and they now sit in the entryway. (The matching table is on view at the Frick Collection in New York.)
One significant divergence from the original, Patty says, is the floor, which was Portuguese tile. This one was once described as â€œthe most beautiful dance floor in America,â€ a flawless plain of glossy teak joined by small, carved pieces of ebony, made without a single nail. It also boasts a hidden trapdoor (â€œFor theatrical entrances!â€ quips Mark). The other whimsical detail: The ceiling beams are equipped with confetti boxes. â€œYou pull the rope, and they dump confetti,â€ Mark says. â€œMrs. Faust said that at Christmas parties, theyâ€™d put fans on the top of the mantelpiece and dump confetti so youâ€™d have snowstorms.â€
An unidentified Tumblr image that showed up on Facebook today of a rather alarming structure presumably built in defiance of any local building codes somewhere in South America or India. Despite all that, I think it does possess a certain charisma. It looks old and reminds the viewer of some of the overhanging Medieval buildings that survive in a few ancient towns in Europe. the air conditioner sticking out provides just the perfect touch of insouciance.
The Amalienburg is an elaborate hunting lodge on the grounds of the Nymphenburg Palace Park, Munich, in southern Germany, designed by FranÃ§ois de CuvilliÃ©s in Rococo style and constructed between 1734 and 1739 for Elector Karl Albrecht and later Holy Roman Emperor Charles VII and his wife, Maria Amalia of Austria.
The interior was designed by Johann Baptist Zimmermann and Joachim Dietrich (1690â€“1753) in the Bavarian national colors of silver and blue.
Formerly, an old bar known as KCs Corner.
Washingtonville, Pennsylvania, a small village in Montour County, was founded around the time of the Revolutionary War.
The former bar’s building was abandoned and condemned and the town council hired a contractor to take it down. However, demolition work revealed that, underneath the shabby modern exterior, there was a 1700s log cabin constructed of hand-hewn hickory logs.
There is some speculation that this cabin may actually be the colonial Fort Bosley, built to defend settlers against Indian raids, whose precise location has long been disputed, and which some people believe was destroyed by fire in 1826.
They are now planning to somehow preserve the cabin.
Cleveland 19 News story
Valley Girl Views feature