Inhotim

Last Sunday before leaving Belo Horizonte, we took a day trip to Inhotim, a stunning garden and contemporary art center about and hour-and-a-half away from the center of BH ("bay-aGAH") in the campo of Minas Gerais. The immaculate and extensive grounds house 17 gallery situated pavilions among lakes, lawns, and spectacular tropical landscaping.

I enjoyed the art to be sure. There was the Forty Part Motet, probably my favorite piece, which put a classical piece of music written in the 16th century for 40 voices in 40 different speakers arranged throughout a large room. It was pretty neat to walk around the room and be able to listen to each individual voice, then step to the center and hear the piece move back and forth all around you. Then there was Através, a study in barriers and transparency, where you walked around on broken glass--but only if you were not wearing sandals! And Celacanto Provoca Maremoto, a larger-than life version of traditional Portuguese azulejos, which I loved because it seemed so very Brazilian to me. Perhaps the most architectural of the art pieces was Invenção da cor, Penetrável Magic Square # 5, De Luxe, which was very much in the spirit of Latin American architecture, including the work of Mexican Modernist Luis Barragán.

But as an architect, I was also taken by the design of some of the galleries in the great spirit and legacy of Brazilian Modernism and the Burle-Marx-esque landscaping. It was really a spectacular day and a great visit to a stunning location.

Caught in the act! The architect taking pictures of an infinity-edge pool!

The main reception pavilion across one of the several lakes. The mountains in the background were really lovely.

This was my favorite of the galleries architecturally speaking (though it also contained one of my favorite pieces too, the one of the giant azulejos).

You entered the gallery across a causeway of sorts though a deep-blue-gree reflecting pool with a thin infinity edge.

After entering underneath the cubic gallery and seeing the artwork in a large, windowless room, a long ramp leads up to the rooftop for a great view of the surrounding landscape...

...then you exit across a metal-mesh bridge out of the opposite side of the gallery from which you entered.

This pavilion was pretty cool, too, with a sinuous bridge a la classic Brazilian Modernism.

The lake in front of this gallery had a much different feel than the reflecting pool in front of the other gallery. The appearance was more natural, but knowing a bit about landscape architecture, even the most "natural" of planned landscapes are planned just the same.

The education center had a really awesome water garden on the roof, with a number of different planting areas including some grasses and, one of my favorite, papyrus.

We ate at this restaurant, which had a series of really cool movable sunshades along the perimeter.

Some of the varied landscape around the grounds, featuring lush tropical vegetation.

Even some of the plants were architectural! I stepped underneath this grove and looked up thinking it was like the fan vaults of some great cathedral.

This was perhaps the most architectural of the exterior artworks, with bright colors and bold shapes. Very Latin America.

The pathways were made of huge irregularly-shaped stone pavers. The grass areas and lawns were immaculate.

A photograph up into a great grove of eucalyptus trees. I really love eucalyptus trees, which remind me of South America. Eucalyptus is found in Curitiba, and also where I was in Peru in February.

I know the photo is blurry, but there is just something about the colors of the houses and the color of the light at sunset in South America. This was taken from the bus on the way back from Inhotim to Belo Horizonte.

Caution! Modern Forms May Abound!

Whenever I travel to Latin America, I feel right at home. There is just something about the people, the sunlight, the landscape, the cities . . . the buildings.

Yes, in case you had not already guessed from previous entries, I love Latin American architecture. I love the courtyards, the gates and fences, the colors, the tiles, the lush gardens, the concrete pile fences, the inside/outside living. I love that in Latin America more than anywhere else I have traveled, Modern architecture with the capital "M" is everywhere and is thriving. Where you can see Modern forms at work, having fun, living a little, stepping out of the box. Yeah, I love fun Modernism!

Brazil is a country that appreciates its Modern architecture, and they are proud of their architectural heritage, especially their own Oscar Niemeyer, last of the great living true-Modernists . . . communist, exile . . . visionary, artist . . . And I might consider him the epitome of the "fun" Modernists!

I am writing this post from Brazil, where I am with my family on month-long vacation. (I have promised them I will not turn the whole event into an architectural tour, but how can I help what I see when we're walking to the market!?) Our first stop is the city of Belo Horizonte, where Niemeyer did some of his early work, that is pre-Brasilia work. In the suburb of Pampulha, Niemeyer designed a number of buildings, including among other works the famous Chapel of São Francisco de Assis. Though a visit to Pampulha is not planned until we return to BH at the tail end of our trip (yes, that I had approval to set aside a day for on the itinerary!), I have already had the opportunity to see one of Niemeyer's residential apartments, the Edifício Niemeyer (1955), located downtown at the Praça da Liberdade.

The Edifício Niemeyer is characterized by its sinuous curved floors plates, giant concrete overhangs, tile work and ribbon window enclosure, and being lifted above the ground in true Modern fashion. It is at the same time very Modern, very Latin American, very Niemeyer, very Brazil.

We were looking for a supermarket, but found cool Modern architecture instead!

It reminds me a lot of a radiator . . . and of a model I once made in architecture school out of stacked paper.

The building sits on a sloped site, on a small triangular block. From the low-side of the site, the building really towers above the street.

A classic Modern detail: lifting the first occupied floor above the ground on columns--or in this case, concrete walls.

If you look closely, you can see the tile work on the exterior walls. I do not think any of the overhangs are balconies. Actually, now that I think about it, there may be 2 or 3 overhanging sunshades per level, which is a sort of visual trick to make the building look taller since you would normally expect them to just be an extension of a floor slab once at every level.

A view of the building from the plaza across the street. Yes, very Modern, very Niemeyer, very Brazil . . .

On another note, here are a few more shots from our walks around the city. The center of Belo Horizonte is actually quite compact, and we walked a significant amount to see what we could see. It has a great urban feel . . . although we have since learned that everything closes early on weekends, and almost all "touristy" things are closed on Mondays! Funny that our visit started on Saturday and we are leaving on Tuesday to fly to Curitiba!

A view along one of Belo Horizonte's main streets, Avenida Afonso Pena.

A view of the Palácio da Liberdade at the end of a palm-lined plaza. Actually, the Niemeyer building is just to the left of this building.

I have been instructed to include my family from time to time as I take pictures of architecture. It is actually a bit of a hard thing to do. I am so used to waiting until all the people leave the frame before I snap the shutter!

This was just a fun angle on a triangular building. Because of the angle of the view itself, it looked like a 25 story tall facade with nothing behind it! It was also an example of something that you never see in North America, but is really common down here: a skyscraper clad in tiles!

Oh, on the ride from the airport (which is a cool Modern building itself), we passed by the newly-consructed administrative center for the state of Minas Gerais, designed by Niemeyer. Very cool!

How Do You Get to Carnegie Hall?

Why, you buy tickets of course!

Since my previous post about Kevin Volans set the precedent to step out of the bounds of architecture and design into the realm of music, I thought it would be nice to write a little review of the concert I saw last Saturday at Carnegie Hall.

Last fall, my oldest daughter started taking flute at school and has since been expressing a desire to go to a classical concert. So when I found out a few weeks ago that the music of Steve Reich, one of the nations most famous living composers, was going to be performed at Carnegie Hall as part of the celebration of his 75th birthday, I thought it would be a great opportunity for a daddy-daughter date to celebrate her recent birthday!

After a trip down to New York on the train, a little walk around Midtown ("Wow, those buildings are tall, Pai!"), and a nutritious dinner at McDonald's (kids are so predictable!), we settled into our seats in the nosebleed balcony of the beautiful and famous Carnegie Hall. (Based on a lifetime of "practice, practice, practice" jokes about the Hall, it was a bit surreal to actually be sitting in it for the first time.)

The concert presented four of Reich's recent pieces, Mallet Quartet (2009, performed by So Percussion), WTC 9/11 (2011, performed by the Kronos Quartet), 2x5 (2008, performed by Bang on a Can All-Stars), and Double Sextet (2007, performed by Bang on a Can All-Stars and Eighth Blackbird). Mallet Quartet, WTC 9/11, and 2x5 were all being performed in their New York City premier, and Double Sextet was the piece for which Reich received the Pulitzer Prize for Music in 2009.

The pieces were pure Reich and featured many of his signature elements. Like the use of pulsing rhythms and what seem to be his favorite instruments like the marimba, flute, and piano. Because I knew she had not heard music like this before, in order to prepare my daughter's ears and my own for the concert, I purchased a recording of Double Sextet and 2x5 (the other two pieces are not available on recordings yet). To tell you the truth, though, I did not even make it through the recordings in their entirety, I found the beginnings of the pieces a bit tedious and not at all my contenders to become my favorite Reich. Though I was excited about going to the concert with my daughter and to actually hear some of Reich's work in person, I was a bit hesitant about it because of what I heard in the recordings ahead of time.

But was I ever proven wrong! Saying you could understand a piece of music from a recording instead of a good live performance would be like saying you can understand all there is about a building from a rendering. It just doesn't work! I found myself leaning forward on the edge of my seat for every intensely bowed, banged, struck, or blown note. Even from as far away as we were, you could see the passion with which the musicians performed, making the performance even more outstanding. The pianists were especially amazing to watch--in a Reich piece, there is no rest for the weary!

Though I am no music critic, many of the pieces performed seemed more melodic than some of Reich's earlier work with which I am more familiar. It was refreshing to hear the pieces move and develop in this way, even though I did feel it never stepped too far away from things he has been talking about and doing for many years. In fact, in the concert program, Reich himself commented about Double Sextet that "It's the kind of piece you would have expected me to write 20 years ago; it's not what you generally expect from 70-year-olds."

The concert began with Mallet Quartet, which followed the three-movement slow-fast-slow format of a number of Reich's pieces. The two marimbas and two vibraphones work together in a back-and-forth characteristic of Reich. There were four instruments and four musicians. But each musician held two mallets in each hand! How can they even think that fast!?

WTC 9/11, a sort of musical tribute to the terrorist attacks of 11 September 2001, was the second piece to be performed. As with Reich's Different Trains piece about World War II, WTC 9/11 uses music to imitate recorded human speech. The speech gives the music its melody while the music gives the speech the overall mood, much like a soundtrack sets the mood for a movie. The piece is actually written for three string quartets and recorded voice. Two of the quartets were pre-recorded as was the speech, so only one part was presented live by the Kronos Quartet. Perhaps it was the recording, the sound system, our distance from the stage, or any number of other factors, but I really did not enjoy this piece--even though conceptually I really wanted to. I found the pre-recording of two of the quartets a bit disingenuous for a live performance. I had wanted to feel some sort of connection to it, as I have felt listening to a recording of Different Trains, but I was just not able to. I am sure much will be said and written about the piece, so I will leave it to others to say it much better than I would.

Following an intermission, 2x5 was performed by two groups of five musicians each. In total there were 2 pianos, 2 drum sets, 2 electric basses, and 4 electric guitars. It definitely had a "rock" sound to it, but was still very Reich. As with the Mallet Quartet, 2x5 followed a fast-slow-fast movement structure with no pause between movements. Although the super-high electric guitar squealing prevalent in the piece is not generally my thing, I found the piece to be fun and enjoyable and interesting insomuch as it is a bit of a departure from Reich's typical.

I think the program saved the best for last, and I can see why Reich won a prize for Double Sextet, a piece that seems to consolidate 50 years of his work into one coherent piece. In the same way that it could perhaps be criticized as very easily recognizable "haven't you done this before" Reich, perhaps that is also its strength. It is really a very melodic piece, and develops quite quickly over its 20 minute length when compared to other work Reich is famous for. As with a number of Reich's pieces in recent decades, Double Sextet was written for two identical groups of instrumentalists with the option of pre-recording one group to then be played with live. However, in the Carnegie Hall performance last week, all 12 parts (2 pianos, 2 vibraphones, 2 cellos, 2 violins, 2 clarinets, and 2 flutes) were played live. This live performance of all parts really added a depth and joyous intensity to the piece. I definitely do not think a performance where half of the parts were pre-recorded would have held the same interest or had the same power. The two pianists are totally my heroes, so intense was their performance! And my daughter loved the flute parts, which came to the surface several times to color the piece.

One funny thing I found while listening to the pieces being performed live at the concert was how one could begin to recognize when the pieces would end--not that I was wishing for that or anything! To the untrained ear, including mine the first time I listened to Reich, it would be easy to think his music is a lot of sameness. But, although there are many similar themes and Reich does seem to have a distinct "sound," as my composer friend told me on the day he introduced me to Music for 18 Musicians, with music like Reich's, it takes a longer time for themes and melodies to emerge, but they are still there. (Here is a link to a good piece about Music for 18 Musicians.) It was amazing to hear how those themes and melodic lines were present, and start looking for clues as to what would happen next. Usually near the end, the musicians got a little more intense (if that is even possible in a 20 minute piece of continuous pulsing!), the piece got a little bit louder, and then . . . silence . . . as the last note rung through the hall, and people hung at the edge of their seats.

Overall, it was a really great concert and I am so glad that I had the opportunity to go, especially with my lovely daughter. Apparently, based on the photo I saw on a review headline (linked above), Reich was in the audience that night and came up on stage at the end. We, however, left while the applause was still ringing through the hall in order to try to catch the train home and not have to wait another hour.

We missed it anyway!

If you are interested in learning more about Reich and his work, NPR has a couple of good resources, including his Music Artist Page, with links to many articles, interviews, and pieces; a review of the Carnegie Hall concert, including a video of Mallet Quartet (as of this writing, I have actually not read the review, since I did not want to cloud my comments with the comments of others); and an interview from a few days prior to the concert in which he talks about WTC 9/11. YouTube also has a number of interesting resources if you are interested in hearing some more Reich.

The Mind, Once Expanded

(Above - The Haven String Quartet of Music Haven)

Music has been an important part of my life, even classical music, from a young age. I can remember special times with my Dad, laying on the living room floor on our backs next to each other, eyes closed, listening to music on the record player. As we would listen to each piece, he would ask me what I was seeing, feeling. A few of my favorite pieces from those memories were Aaron Copland's Rodeo, where we would take turns describing the sites and sounds of a rodeo (including a lazy, stubborn donkey in one movement!), and Johann Strauss' Blue Danube during which we would visualize the path of the famous river from source to sea.

Some of the pieces I listened to with my Dad, like Copland's, have grown to be like old friends, the comfort music I listen to when I want something familiar and safe. But I like new friends too, and I try to occasionally expand my listening repertoire with new pieces or composers. Like Copland's Symphony No. 3, for example. Though a relatively new addition to my listening repertoire, it has become one of very favorite symphonic pieces. Or work by Cuban-born Julian Orbon, a Copland disciple. His Concerto Grosso has hints of Copland's influence all over the orchestration.

Every now and then, however, a piece comes along out of the blue that totally rocks my world, upends my preconceptions, and speaks straight to my soul. This happened most recently at a recent performance of Kevin Volans' String Quartet No. 1 (White Man Sleeps) by the Haven String Quartet.

Volans, a South African-born composer, was previously unfamiliar to me until I was floored by the quartet's performance of White Man Sleeps. I had, after all, gone to the concert for the Beethoven, and after they played Beethoven first, I seriously though to myself, "I don't know how they're going to top that with a composer I've never heard of."

But top it they did! After a brief introduction to the piece by the violist, the quartet jumped straight into the aural fantasy that is White Man Sleeps. Hearing the piece for the first time live was an incredible experience, and it kept me enraptured for about a half an hour through all five movements. I felt like Lewis and Clark seeing the Pacific for the first time, "O! The Joy!"

Volans, a white man, was born and came of age in apartheid South Africa. He was educated in both South Africa and Europe and has lived most of his life outside of Africa. Inspired by field research and recordings of his native South Africa in the early 1980s, White Man Sleeps takes cues from traditional folk songs and instruments. Though Volans' piece breaks so many of the expectations of more traditional classical music and at times even challenges preconceptions of what musical beauty should sound like, the sounds, rhythms, and playing techniques seem to evoke the feeling of Africa to their very core.

In a statement about the piece, which was written in the early 1980s, the last full decade of South African apartheid, Volans says, "I wrote White Man Sleeps [as] the third in a series of pieces in which I hoped, perhaps somewhat naively, to reconcile African and European aesthetics. I wanted to reflect in the music an image of a multicultural society - one in which the traditions of different cultures are represented, honoured and, above all, shared - no more 'separate development'!" In the same theme, Volans said, "Like many white South Africans of my generation I was brought up to think I was European. I went to live in Europe and found this was not true. I returned to Africa and was disappointed to find I could not really regard myself as African."

As I have been reflecting on the piece (and listening religiously to a recording of it I bought on iTunes), I keep wondering why I have been so taken by the piece. It is an odd piece of music using conventional standards, so I must admit my ears were prepared by a few years of listening to even more peculiar 20th century classical pieces by such composers as John Adams, whose Hallelujah Junction for Two Pianos has so many odd an dissonant cords it sounds at times like a cacophony of broken carnival games, and Steven Reich, whose concept of phase music floored me when I learned about it for he first time and which still never ceases to excite me musically, intellectually, and scientifically. Part of my interest, then, is in White Man Sleeps' unique and innovative sound and feeling within the tradition of other 20th century classical pieces.

Part of it, though, is that it is by a South African and inspired by Africa. My parents lived in South Africa for a few years in the mid-2000s and I had the privilege of visiting twice. If you know me, you know I have a strong passion for Latin America, but upon returning from Africa, I told someone, "if I didn't already have such a deep love for Latin America, I think Africa would certainly be a place that would capture my heart." Africa can get under your skin and into your blood in a short amount of time. I wonder if that is what Volans experienced when he returned to his native land and was inspired to write this piece?

Knowing of Volans' explicit intent that the piece evoke the rhythms and sounds of Africa, I can, as if laying on the floor with my eyes closed, visualize while listening to the piece some of the things I saw first-hand in my visits--the long drive across the Karoo, the women carrying impossible bundles on their heads, the roadside craft stands, the tin shacks, the colors of traditional dress, the incredible landscape, the haunting sound of the dove calling "I love South Africa"--as well as many of the things one can only dream about or see on documentaries--the ceremonial dances of native tribes, the deep darkness of the dark continent, the power of tribal tradition, the legacy of apartheid and post-colonialism...

It has been said that talking about music is like dancing about architecture. But here I am writing about music on a blog about architecture! Part of the reason I decided to write about the piece is because I cannot stop talking about it, or listening to it, or thinking about it, and I hoped this outlet might let me express some of these pent-up feelings. I mostly want to relate the very visceral reaction I had to the piece within the context of my own art and composition--that of architectural design. I was thinking that I hope someone some day might experience the same sense of wonder at a work of my design as I experienced upon hearing this piece for the first time. But I know this is a nearly impossible task. The only building that I have seen in person that was able to evoke a similar reaction was the Pantheon, and those types of buildings come around only once every few millennia.

I have found some videos of the piece being performed by another quartet on YouTube. Though I hope you enjoy them, I am not able to vouch for the quality of the recording as I have not listened to them all the way through. Hopefully, though, they begin to whet your own appetite to find a better recording of the piece (there is at least one on iTunes) and experience its magic for yourself.

The first movement starts in immediately at a frenetic pace of complex rhythms. Do not let the quiet portion in the middle of the movement fool you into losing your focus. It is simply the eye of the storm before the frenzied finish!

Though picking a favorite movement of this piece would almost be like trying to pick a favorite child, I must say I cannot seem to get enough of this the second movement. As with the first movement, the tempo is fast from the beginning with slower sections used as a foil for the quicker parts. The beautifully melodic underlying theme is introduced immediately and it is woven through the entire piece over and over in different ways. Part way through the piece, the sawing rhythm intensifies suddenly as the violin takes on the theme before reintroducing it to the ensemble in a new way--the artists turn their bows over and hit the strings with the stick! Volans does not cease to surprise in this movement: the ending is like something you get from fast-forwarding a recording! This is a driving piece to me and reminds me of the vast scenery of the desert in a drive we did across the country.

The third movement begins entirely picked on the cello in a feat of what appears to be pretty advanced technique. The use of the cello in this manner gives the feel of traditional African instruments which may be hit or plucked instead of bowed. The other instruments come in part way through the piece and repeat their bird-like call through the end. This movement reminds me of the sad call of the dove that woke me each morning at my parents' house, "I love South Africa...I love South Africa...I love South Africa..."

The fourth movement starts quietly with a series of moving chords and parallel lyrical lines. A little less than half way through the piece, a small silence introduces a haunting lullaby like melody played on the viola to pizzicato accompaniment. The melancholic sadness of the piece fill my heart with sorrow for the painful history of the African continent--but its beauty reminds me of a lullaby a mother would sing as she hopes for better future for her child.

The best way to describe the fifth movement is "swarm." It reminds me of the frenzy of something you might see in a documentary on tribal coming of age customs. The muted sounds of the instruments move the piece from start to finish without ceasing, culminating in a satisfyingly unsatisfying ending that leaves the heart empty enough to want to listen again.

As I reflect on the few pieces of music over my lifetime that have done that thing where they simply make my jaw drop in awe, I am reminded of a quote by Oliver Wendell Holmes: "The mind, once expanded to the dimensions of larger ideas, never returns to its original size." Though I know I will get over my constant listening frenzy and White Man Sleeps will probably become one of the old friends I turn to from time to time for comfort, I feel fortunate to know that my world is just a little bit bigger than it was before I heard this piece.

Update

The Haven String Quartet performed this piece again today at the Yale Art Gallery (excepting movement 4). As with before, it was a special treat to experience this piece live.

Although the small introduction at the concert the other day was helpful, today's more in-depth discussion of the piece really added depth to my understanding of it, and to my appreciation for it. We heard recordings of some of the songs, instruments (one of which I can't remember the name of but looks an awful lot like the Brazilian berimbau with which I am familiar with from capoeira), and rhythms that had inspired Volans to write White Man Sleeps.

I really appreciated the gallery curator and the quartet walking us through some of the movements ahead of time, for instance highlighting the groups of 24 notes played 5 times through over and over again but at different tempos and different combinations of instrumentation. Also, on the theme of African music, it was noted that the musicians in African groups work together more than in the tradition of Western music. Whereas in Western music, we often venerate the man (the virtuoso) who can perform the work of 10 men, in African music, the group of 10 men work together to produce the whole. This can definitely be heard in the way Volans layers the parts of the piece and passes the lyrical melodies between the instruments.

I can't wait to listen for all this again the next time I listen to the piece...which will probably be in about 5 minutes when I finish my lunch, put on my headphones, and get back to work!

Designing a World of Hope

Great & Unsearchable Things

This afternoon, I was walking home from work when I overheard a group of three Yale undergraduates ruminating over the design of the Sterling Memorial Library.

"But is it a church that's supposed to be a library, or a library that's supposed to be a church," said one student to the others.

My walk followed them for about a block and I tried to listen in. By the way they were talking, I assumed they were not architecture students, so I was interested in what non-architects were saying about the neo-gothic edifice. I almost inserted myself in their conversation at one point, but was too timid to do so.

What was going through my mind was this . . .

If I had to pick from your two options, I would say the latter: it is a library that is supposed to be a church. That is to say, in a post-Christian society and secular university setting, it is a replacement for the church as a house of worship. As such, it is, in both style and veneration, a cathedral to knowledge--a secular humanist's temple to reason and knowledge. (Compare this also to Yale's mammoth neo-gothic Payne Whitney Gymnasium as a cathedral where the human body is worshiped.)

But, I wanted to add, as a Christian, I was reminded of a passage from the Bible:

Then Paul stood in the midst of the Areopagus and said, “Men of Athens, I perceive that in all things you are very religious; for as I was passing through and considering the objects of your worship, I even found an altar with this inscription:

TO THE UNKNOWN GOD.

Therefore, the One whom you worship without knowing, Him I proclaim to you: God, who made the world and everything in it, since He is Lord of heaven and earth, does not dwell in temples made with hands. Nor is He worshiped with men’s hands, as though He needed anything, since He gives to all life, breath, and all things. And He has made from one blood every nation of men to dwell on all the face of the earth, and has determined their preappointed times and the boundaries of their dwellings, so that they should seek the Lord, in the hope that they might grope for Him and find Him, though He is not far from each one of us; for in Him we live and move and have our being." (Acts 17:22-28, NKJV)

I imagine that the portal of the Sterling Memorial Library could have the same inscription Paul found in Athens, and that I could say the same thing to many students. Yale is, after all, an environment that breeds and encourages the religious pursuit of knowledge, reason, and objective reality. But "Do you not know? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God . . . his understanding no one can fathom." (Isaiah 40:28, NIV)

God, therefore, is the source of all knowledge, and he urges people to call on him for true understanding. "Call to me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know." (Jeremiah 33:3, NIV)

Book learning is just book learning, and Sterling would be an empty shell if it were not for God, "for the Lord gives wisdom; from his mouth come knowledge and understanding." (Proverbs 2:6, NIV)

A Different Type of Mission

It has been a week since I left Peru, and I have been working on a letter to send to many of the people who have prayed for me or supported me financially on this journey. Below is a copy of that letter.

“Unless the LORD builds the house, the builders labor in vain.” (Psalm 127:1)

I returned last week from the mission trip to Peru with Engineering Ministries International (EMI) that I wrote to you about in January, and so I wanted to follow-up to thank you for your prayers of support for the mission and to tell you about my experience serving the Lord in South America.

Our EMI team consisted of eighteen members from the United States, Canada, and Costa Rica. All together, we were two EMI leaders and their spouses (plus one cutie-pie of a six-month-old), two architects, a master planner, two structural engineers, two civil engineers (plus one spouse), one electrical engineer, one surveyor, two EMI interns, and one drafter. Our team had been gathered by EMI’s Latin America office to work with a Seminary in Urubamba, Peru, on the master plan design of a new campus on land they own a few blocks from their current facility, the design of a dormitory for the new campus, and the design of a church on one corner of the property. My main task for the week was the architectural design of the dormitory.

Though I am confident that many on the team would vouch for the emotional and spiritual “high” that we all experienced working together for the Lord in Peru, I would go even further and say that the week for me was life-changing. So often I have thought of “missions” as standing on the corner with a Bible (and that’s a pretty scary thought for me even now!), but my recent trip to Peru opened my eyes to a different type of mission work. In our case, our team was supporting a Seminary ministry that seeks to equip Peruvian nationals and Quechua natives to be leaders in their local churches. During the week, our team delighted in the thought that, although we were not ourselves equipped or able to teach all of these people in the long-term, we were working together to design facilities that would serve the Seminary for years to come as they reached hundreds of students, and by extension, thousands of Peruvians with the power of the Gospel.

In one of our sporadic conversations while I was away, I was explaining some of these things to Kim, and she said to me, “Do you remember when I first said the word ‘missionary’ to you, and you looked at me like I was from outer space?” I said, “Yeah, but I didn’t know a missionary could be an architect!” But the truth is they can, and they are, working every day with organizations such as EMI. I think God showed me a lot during the week, one of the primary things being that I have something to offer in a mission setting such as this. During one of our team’s morning devotionals, we discussed the body of Christ as being like our own body, made up of diverse and separately-gifted members that must work together to accomplish anything. I may have been an eye during week, but I needed help from others to hear. But I was an eye for the week. And along with a team of ears, and hands, and feet, we worked together to serve the Lord. “Just as a body, though one, has many parts, but all its many parts from one body, so it is with Christ. . . . Now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is part of it.” (1 Corinthians 12:12, 27)

Although before my trip, I had often felt that God had gifted me with both passion and skill in architectural design, I also often wondered how God desired me use these gifts. Amidst a hectic week where there was the same amount, if not more, work than in my professional life, I found a peace and renewed passion in my love for architecture by serving the Lord.

Some might say that I went to Peru to do something “good” for others, or to “help” someone else. But as is often the case when we are in a position to be a blessing to others, we are in turn blessed even more in return. I was amazed and encouraged, therefore, at the spirit of service-in-love that was demonstrated to us by our hosts at the Seminary in Urubamba. Just when we might have been tempted into feeling good about ourselves in what we were doing, we were humbled by others seeking to serve us with selfless hearts.

Although each member of the team has now returned home from Peru, there is still much work to be done. Over the next few months, we will be working together and coordinating in the midst of our day-to-day professional lives to complete the master plan document and the construction documents for the dorm which are the deliverables offered in this case by EMI to the Seminary. I would appreciate your continued prayer support for my work moving forward, the work of the other volunteers, and especially the work that the Seminario Evangélico Bautista Independiente del Cusco (SEBIC) is doing in the lives of Peruvians in the region of Cuzco.

If you would like to read more stories or see more photos from the trip, visit my blog “Through the Oculus” at throughtheoculus.blogspot.com. To find out more about EMI, visit their website at emiworld.org. If you are specifically interested in learning about EMI’s work in Latin America, their website is emiamericalatina.org.

Yours in Christ,

Once-in-a-Lifetime Twice

Our EMI team arrived to Machu Picchu Saturday morning after an early pickup from the seminary where we were staying and a two hour train ride through the Sacred Valley of the Incas from Ollantaytambo to Aguas Calientes. There was a light drizzle as we entered the park, and a white mist shrouded the tops of the mountains all around us. As we followed the pathway around the edge of the mountain and into the ancient city, the rain passed, and the clouds started to move away as the ruins of the last great city of the Incas was revealed to us.

When I saw this same sight for the first time a number of years ago—the morning mist lifting from Machu Picchu—I never thought I have any reasonable chance of seeing it again. In 2005, Kim and I visited Machu Picchu together when we went to Peru on vacation (it was the farthest south we could get on the Delta SkyMiles I had accrued flying back and forth from Atlanta to Pennsylvania when I was an undergrad at Georgia Tech!). Back then, I could not have expected that I would ever return. It is, after all, a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

I feel extremely blessed to have that once-in-a-lifetime experience twice in my life. And let me tell you that the majestic site, sitting impossibly on the top of a mountain, surrounded by towering green peaks and tropical vegetation, was just as awe-inspiring the second time as the first. It is truly one of the most amazing places I have ever been, both for the stunning natural beautiful of the location and for the absolute precision of the ancient stone architecture.

Although photos can never do a site like Machu Picchu trues justice, here are some images from our trip.

The whole team standing on the overlook to Machu Picchu. This is the postcard view of the city, with the peak of Wayna Picchu behind.

Me at the main gate to the city.

Ten of us in the group decided to climb to the peak of Wayna Picchu, a trek that Kim and I made in 2005 when we went. The trail is trecherous, dangerous, not for the faint of heart, and not at all designed for easy accessibility. But the view was worth it! Here we are sweaty, tired, and aching, with the city of Machu Picchu appearing as a clearing in the distance. The whole round-trip took us about two-and-a-half hours.

What goes up must come down! Going up is tiring, but going down really hurts the legs! At times, the steps are so shallow you have to crawl on your backside, or turn around and climb facing the steps like a ladder. Yes, these are my feet; no there are no railings; yes, if you miss the bottom step you would plummet thousands of feet to your death.

The ancient city of Machu Picchu is characterized by stone buildings with steep roofs and small windows situated impossibly on terraces which cascade down the side of a mountain.

Machu Picchu has a pretty sophisticated system of aqueducts. Seeing the playful waterfalls, tunnels, and watercourses carved out of the stone, I couldn't help but think that the Inca were not just concerned with function, but also with beautiful design. Some of the lyrical shapes they used throughout the site appear to be designed and crafted for the sake of beauty, not just function.

Some of the rocks on site appear to mimic the form of the mountains beyond.

A beautiful example of an Inca doorway, with sloped sides for seismic stability. Archeologists surmise that the handle-looking stones to each side of the door and the donut-like stone above used to lock a door in this opening.

Inca stonework and stone carving is amazing. One of the other EMI team members saw this and said, "it looks like they just poured the stone in." Truly, the stonework at Machu Picchu (and other Inca ruins in Peru) is so precise you would be hard-pressed to fit a knife edge into most of the joints.

A view of some of the stone terracing that is prevalent at Machu Picchu.

Both times that I visited Machu Picchu I was struck by the unity of the forms of the architecture with the forms of the landscape. Just look at the shape of the building gables superimposed over the mountain in the distance!

The End of the Rainbow

Visiting Peru during rainy season is sort of like playing roulette with the weather. Though we have had some sunny patches this week, most of our time here in Urubamba has been characterized by drippy rain followed by clouds followed by heavier rain.

Then repeat as necessary.

Today, however, was glorious for most of the day: white fluffy clouds, clear blue skies, lush green vegetation on the mountains, sunlight to warm our rain-cooled bones. It was even clear enough to see a hind of the glacier that sits just up the valley from Urubamba!

What torture to sit inside working away on our designs as we prepared for our 4:00 meeting with our clients! How discouraging to be inside on a day such as this!

But God is faithful in reminding us of his sovereignty just when we need it the most. Just before our meeting began, while people were running around frantic getting the room set up and making last minute changes in AutoCAD, I heard one of our team members shout, “James, get your camera and come look at this!” Not knowing what to expect, I stopped what I was doing, grabbed my camera and exited our work room to behold one of the most vibrant rainbows I have ever seen in my life. There it was, hanging from the sky in the east, just over our project site, illuminating the city of Urubamba and making the far mountains appear purple and shimmery.

Calm. Awe. God’s promise.

This week has been life-changing. Amidst a hectic week where there was the same amount, if not more, work than in my professional life (staying up past midnight 3 days in a row is not my normal M.O.), I found a peace and renewed passion in my love for architecture. Some might say that I came on this mission to do something “good” for others, or to “help” someone else. But so often when we are in a position to be a blessing to others, we are in turn blessed even more in return. For example, I have been amazed at the spirit of service-in-love that has been demonstrated to us by our hosts here at the seminary in Urubamba. Just when we want to feel good about ourselves in the “good” we ourselves are doing, we are humbled by others seeking to serve us with selfless hearts. And I have been humbled by the testimonies of the other members of this team—all of us have grown closer than anyone deserves to grow in only 6 days. I will certainly miss working with all of them when I return to the “real world.”

In one of our sporadic chat correspondence this week, Kim said to me, “Do you remember when I first said the word ‘missionary’ to you, and you looked at me like I was from outer space?” I said, “Yeah, but I didn’t know a missionary could be an architect!” But the truth is they can, and they are—every day. I think God has shown me a lot this week, one of the primary things being, that I have something to offer in a mission setting such as this. The other day during our devotional time, we discussed the body of Christ as being like our own body, made up of diverse and separately-gifted members that must work together to accomplish anything. I may have been an eye this week, but I needed help to hear. But I could be an eye, on a team of ears, and hands, and feet.

I wanted so much to write Thursday night, but it was the latest night yet, and I was exhausted. It is late again tonight, but for good reason. Our presentation was almost 3.5 hours long, but it went really, really well. There is still much work to do to develop and finalize our designs for the seminary campus and church over the next few months, but I believe we accomplished our goal this week. We got to know the ministry we are serving, and they got to know us. I left the meeting feeling confident that the particular design I proposed this week for their new seminary dorm would serve the ministry for many years to come. Tired but happy, we left campus to have a team dinner out in town.

Tomorrow morning (actually, only like 4 hours from the time I’m writing this), we’re on a bus and train to Machu Picchu. I never thought when I visited Machu Picchu a number of years ago I would ever be back, but here I am. I’m really looking forward to it—it should be an awesome end to our week here in Peru.

Since I didn’t write Thursday, I have a bit of catching up to do. Here are some photos from the past two days.

Thursday morning, I lead worship time with Josh, one of the EMI leaders. This was after fixing the piano's sustain pedal with a broomstick, 4 nails, and a candle the day before.

Looking over the roofs of the current seminary and the town of Urubamba. To the north in the valley is a glacier. Although it's hard to distinguish where white cloud ends and ice starts, if you look closely, you can see the heart shaped area of mountain where a chunk of glacier fell off causing flooding a few years ago.

Our attentive clients, in front in the chairs. Our exhausted EMI team, on the benches in the back.

Finally, I thought perhaps it would be nice to post a bit of what I had been working on this week. I was predominantly responsible for the architectural design of the first dormitory to be built on the seminary's new site, just a few blocks east of their current facility. The dorm has rooms for 60 students, a laundry room, lounge, and staff apartment (like a dorm-parent) arranged in an L-shape around a landscaped courtyard. The predominant materials are rough textured stucco on the lower floor, smooth white stucco on the upper, with wood door and window frames. In order to fulfill the town's requirement that new structures on the seminary site have the traditional "teja" tile roof (or similar), and in order not to break the seminary's budget, the roof will be simulation clay tile.

Plan of the first floor. Dorm rooms will hold up to 6 people each. Each student was required to have a bed, a desk, and a dresser. In order to save space and make a smaller building on an already constrained site, we proposed the idea of lofted beds with desks and storage below. We showed them a couple of ideas, and they will be having their woodworker and students build the bunks for the dorm. The short leg of the L is a one-story building housing laundry, lounge, and staff apartment.

The south (top) and north (bottom) elevations of the dormitory building. Clerestory windows on the south elevation (away from the sun in this hemisphere) will help provide even daylighting on the upper level of rooms. In a country that very seldom uses heating or cooling, jalousie windows above a fixed window and a jalousie transom above the door provide cross-ventilation and fresh air.

West elevation of the dorm complex (top), with staff apartment to the left and bougainvillea climbing on the west wall of the dormitory. Section through the staff apartment (bottom left) and through the dormitory (bottom right), with the west elevation of the staff apartment in the distance.

Today I...

...went to the market.

...ate cuy (guinea pig), a Peruvian delicacy.

...fixed the sustain pedal on the seminary's grand piano with a broomstick, 4 nails, and a candle.

...played party games with the natives.

...had a cross-cultural Portuguese-Spanish conversation with a Peruvian.

Don't worry, I also did some work!