Addressing the synthesis of computation and ecology, Bradley Cantrell develops and designs devices and infrastructures that create complex interrelationships between maintenance, evolved processes, and environmental response. This approach specifically addresses the interface between old modes of representation and direct connections to ecological processes. In collaboration with co-author Justine Holzman, Cantrell published Responsive Landscapes by Routledge in the Fall of 2015 entitled. Responsive Landscapes highlights a range of case studies in architecture, landscape architecture, computer science, and art that employ responsive technologies as mediators of landscape processes.
Bradford McKee is a journalist and former Editor-in-Chief of Landscape Architecture Magazine. He previously worked at The New York Times, Washington City Paper, and Architecture Magazine, among others. His most recent article about the variety, beauty, utility, and amazingness of sedges is featured in this months issue of Landscape Architecture Magazine. We also talk oaks and insects and all kinds of good stuff. Refine your aesthetic, bro!
Lloyd Kahn is the founder of Shelter Publications, which he has run from his home in Bolinas, CA for nearly five decades. Shelter has published several widely selling books about fitness and DIY homebuilding, and Lloyd writes the Gimme Shelter newsletter and runs a blog showcasing his interests and photos people share from their DIY homes. With his wife Lesley, Lloyd built the home they live and work from. Lloyd’s origins in publishing extend to his time in the Air Force in the 1950s, and as the Shelter Editor for The Whole Earth Catalog in the 1960s. An advocate for working with one’s hands, Lloyd’s pursuit of his interests and beliefs has coalesced into a well-rounded advocation, and life.
From mapping potential woolly mammoth habitats for Colossal to researching economic speculation in ancient Rome, or ongoing efforts to mine asteroids in space, or discussing his artwork related to kudzu’s historical uses and our cultural perceptions of the plant, this discussion with Casey Lance Brown covers a broad range of exciting terrain!
I’m seated across from Sarah Cain and in the course of our conversation it dawns on me that I’m talking with a real and true artist, which admittedly is an odd thing to think. I’ve spoken with a variety of artists, each and every one of whom I could describe in the same way: as a real and true practitioner of the arts. With others, however, it’s possible to separate their work from other aspects of their life and still capture something of their essence. With Sarah there is little separation. It’s as though any number of seemingly disparate facets of her world — yoga, cats, vegetarianism, or rap music — are also fueled by the need to paint. Or that all of her motives are imbued with the same “it” that permeates her work. This singular focus is testament to how fully her work is an exploration; a means to mine deeper one’s own essence.
I was impressed with James Carpenter from the beginning. Not merely because of his body of work or that he brought great ideas to our project. Quality speaks for itself. It was because he was open and approachable. That he was free of the need to impress is what impressed me the most. At the time I was living in Qatar, working on a fancy urban redevelopment scheme with teams of accomplished architects, engineers, planners, and construction-related consultants of every stripe. Among this esteemed, designerly crowd Jamie’s approachability was a rare trait, which made it all the more notable. We only met briefly but this impression stuck with me. When we fortuitously crossed paths a few years later in a TriBeCa coffee shop I had no reservations about re-introducing myself. And when I pitched him on it, the fact that he agreed to take part in this new Deviation thing was testament to his openness.
I met with Summer Rayne Oakes during a strange period in my life — shortly after launching Deviation in its new form, yet having no answers as to how I would provide for myself going forward. I had a mission but little stability in which to pursue it. (Instability is a reality for all missions, I’ve come to believe. Lacking risk, it’s not a mission so much as it’s a hobby or fleeting fancy.) Summer is also on a mission, I would learn.
Kosmo Vinyl speaks with a richness that immediately draws me in. He’s energetic, in tone and cadence. A personality. As he describes his childhood — bearing witness to mod culture, his family, and the liveliness of the people in his community — a full and vivid image takes form in my mind. His words paint the picture for me and I gain a lucid sense of where he comes from, or where he’s coming from. Kosmo lives a rich life and I believe that the two are not separate, the richness of his experiences and the richness of how he speaks about them.
It was a discovery, even though I was looking for it. While scouring the streets of Manhattan, a total outsider to the city’s art scene on a quest to write about the people in that scene, I encountered a simple black and white banner that said Postmasters Gallery. It was pinned to construction scaffolding near two understated, residential-looking doors. A plywood interior wall obstructed the view through the bottom half of the gallery’s front windows, above which a flatscreen displayed an image of a shadowy man standing in a street. The caption “…Art is lost in this town…” was stamped along the bottom of the frame. Despite my lack of familiarity with the terrain I knew enough to recognize an outlier. Inside was Magdalena Sawon, one of the gallery’s founders.