Can there be too much of a good thing? Today, the usual source of supply is awash in good images, any or all of which would be welcome additions to Agincourt; at least a few of them will.
Anyone over a hundred and ten will recall that Fargo once boasted streets chock-a-block with Victoriana like Winterset, Iowa. We have been a bit more reserved and our material palette was limited (Dakota Territory having virtually no deposits of good building stone). Still, Fargo and Moorhead held their own. Urban renewal took its toll, as did bad judgement and poor maintenance.
Celebration continues to fill our streets and other public places with pride of accomplishment, pride of place, pride of identification.
Agincourt’s contours are minor, so I regret that the picturesque arrangement of public library and church would be unlikely, but surely there will be moments of topographic change and relative drama such as this view of Stafford Springs, Connecticut—where, I’m happy to report, having stood at the very spot.
This house at an unidentified location and the hospital serving a town in Iowa exude the characteristics of vernacular design that have been misplaced in recent years. Why do we no longer seem capable of such respectful directness of expression?
Those who know me know that one of my favorite films is “Witness” and that I believe (along with “Mr Blandings Builds His Dream House”) it ought to be required viewing for every incoming student of architecture. If you can’t figure out what they have to say about architectural design and construction, separately or as a pair, then you might want to consider another career.
And while I bloviate, consider this brief stop on an interurban line and wonder why current facebook rhetoric suggests that architecture as a profession is on the ropes.