This is gorgeous writing, Danuta! I love the meaning you make in comparing the cinder block buildings of your youth and the flimsy constructions around us. Such a powerful metaphor. (And I have often thought of America as a teenager too--maybe it's an immigrant thing?) Anyway, thanks for revealing a new aspect of the world through your eyes.
I’m so glad the cinder block vs. Tyvek thread resonated with you! “Architecture as a reverberation of danger and survival” is the only way I can make sense of how different histories shape our armor.
And yes, the “America as teenager” line feels so immigrant-coded, right? We arrive expecting weight and continuity, and find improvisation, and sometimes a breathtaking beauty in the make-believe.
I’d love to hear your examples from your neighborhood/city, where a building (or a bit of language) suddenly told you the truth about the place.
The landscape of the Connecticut shoreline brings me a particular kind of peace (I miss it now!), but I am always amazed by how often I daydream of Europe (especially Italy, and sometimes Zurich) and how, when I return there, I invariably feel a sense of safety and aesthetic pleasure in the buildings and streets that I don't often find in America (though I do recall thinking when I moved to DC that it reminded me a bit of Zurich in its cleanness and orderliness and its squat, federalist-style architecture). I know these are not direct answers to your question, just some disorganized musings that your writing brought up...
Rachel, this is exactly the kind of answer I was hoping for, not disorganized at all, just beautifully lived-in.
I love how you name the Connecticut shoreline peace. To me coasts, especially Ocean City, MD, where I am often, feel like an architecture, too. Horizon as cornice, tide as metronome, those strangely beautiful high-rises like a kind of vernacular cathedral. And yes (!!!) to your Europe daydreams! I think that sense of safety plus aesthetic pleasure comes from places designed at a human scale, meaning, materials with weight (stone, wood, tile), façades that keep a rhythm, streets meant for feet as much as for cars. The body relaxes when proportion says, “you belong here.”
Your take on DC~Zurich made me smile. The height limits flatten the skyline, so everything reads horizontal, orderly, almost sedate, kin to Zurich’s cleanness, but DC’s federal classicism can feel more ceremonial than intimate. It’s like calm without the patina. (I still love it, just … differently, but especially Georgetown, of course.)
If you had to pick one detail you miss most from your Europe daydreams, what would it be? A fountain’s sound? A worn stair? Shutters, laundry lines, cobblestones? Send a picture if you find one! I would love to see it here.
Danuta - more gorgeous writing!! Thank you, it's a feast.
I should have said too that I am very aware how my idealized vision of DC is obscured these days by the intrusion of soldiers--soldiers!!--on the streets.
As for a single thing about Europe that I could invoke, there are too many to count, though displays of fresh food in the open air always figure large for me, as do images of stone scapes on Capri (the sea again) or street scenes just about anywhere in Italy...I can't see how to attach photos to comments (I'm still a relative Substack newbie) but thanks for inviting me to rhapsodize :).
Rachel, you’re feeding me right back—thank you (!!!)
Yes to the soldiers in DC. That’s exactly where the façade/armor line snaps into focus: ceremony suddenly punctured by force.
It changes how the streets feel, a different city all together.
And your Europe images! Open-air food displays, the stone scapes of Capri, ordinary Italian streets, this is the human scale I keep reaching for, and it includes color, weight, rhythm, the dailiness of beauty.
Thank you for rhapsodizing. I joined Substack in June this year. Yes, still learning.
This is gorgeous writing, Danuta! I love the meaning you make in comparing the cinder block buildings of your youth and the flimsy constructions around us. Such a powerful metaphor. (And I have often thought of America as a teenager too--maybe it's an immigrant thing?) Anyway, thanks for revealing a new aspect of the world through your eyes.
Rachel! Thank you, friend.
I’m so glad the cinder block vs. Tyvek thread resonated with you! “Architecture as a reverberation of danger and survival” is the only way I can make sense of how different histories shape our armor.
And yes, the “America as teenager” line feels so immigrant-coded, right? We arrive expecting weight and continuity, and find improvisation, and sometimes a breathtaking beauty in the make-believe.
I’d love to hear your examples from your neighborhood/city, where a building (or a bit of language) suddenly told you the truth about the place.
Thank you for reading with such a generous eye!
The landscape of the Connecticut shoreline brings me a particular kind of peace (I miss it now!), but I am always amazed by how often I daydream of Europe (especially Italy, and sometimes Zurich) and how, when I return there, I invariably feel a sense of safety and aesthetic pleasure in the buildings and streets that I don't often find in America (though I do recall thinking when I moved to DC that it reminded me a bit of Zurich in its cleanness and orderliness and its squat, federalist-style architecture). I know these are not direct answers to your question, just some disorganized musings that your writing brought up...
Rachel, this is exactly the kind of answer I was hoping for, not disorganized at all, just beautifully lived-in.
I love how you name the Connecticut shoreline peace. To me coasts, especially Ocean City, MD, where I am often, feel like an architecture, too. Horizon as cornice, tide as metronome, those strangely beautiful high-rises like a kind of vernacular cathedral. And yes (!!!) to your Europe daydreams! I think that sense of safety plus aesthetic pleasure comes from places designed at a human scale, meaning, materials with weight (stone, wood, tile), façades that keep a rhythm, streets meant for feet as much as for cars. The body relaxes when proportion says, “you belong here.”
Your take on DC~Zurich made me smile. The height limits flatten the skyline, so everything reads horizontal, orderly, almost sedate, kin to Zurich’s cleanness, but DC’s federal classicism can feel more ceremonial than intimate. It’s like calm without the patina. (I still love it, just … differently, but especially Georgetown, of course.)
If you had to pick one detail you miss most from your Europe daydreams, what would it be? A fountain’s sound? A worn stair? Shutters, laundry lines, cobblestones? Send a picture if you find one! I would love to see it here.
Danuta - more gorgeous writing!! Thank you, it's a feast.
I should have said too that I am very aware how my idealized vision of DC is obscured these days by the intrusion of soldiers--soldiers!!--on the streets.
As for a single thing about Europe that I could invoke, there are too many to count, though displays of fresh food in the open air always figure large for me, as do images of stone scapes on Capri (the sea again) or street scenes just about anywhere in Italy...I can't see how to attach photos to comments (I'm still a relative Substack newbie) but thanks for inviting me to rhapsodize :).
Rachel, you’re feeding me right back—thank you (!!!)
Yes to the soldiers in DC. That’s exactly where the façade/armor line snaps into focus: ceremony suddenly punctured by force.
It changes how the streets feel, a different city all together.
And your Europe images! Open-air food displays, the stone scapes of Capri, ordinary Italian streets, this is the human scale I keep reaching for, and it includes color, weight, rhythm, the dailiness of beauty.
Thank you for rhapsodizing. I joined Substack in June this year. Yes, still learning.
💙💙💙