This revealing memoir by Aldo Rossi (1937--1997), one of the most visible and controversial figures ever on the international architecture scene, intermingles discussions of Rossi's architectural projects--including the major literary and artistic influences on his work--with his personal history. Drawn from notebooks Rossi kept beginning in 1971, these ruminations and reflections range from his obsession with theater to his concept of architecture as ritual. The book originally appeared as one of the landmark titles in the MIT Press's Oppositions Books series, but has been out of print for many years. This newly issued paperback reprint includes illustrations--photographs, evocative images, and a set of drawings of Rossi's major architectural projects prepared particularly for this publication--selected by the author himself to augment the text.
Merely personal understandings, if not feelings, for the book. Clearly a hint of some very unique affection can be found in Rossi’s description to architecture, city, and maybe anything that functions as human artifacts. I would say what interest me most...
评分Lucy. The film itself is sort of nonsense. But the sentence. "Time is the true unit of measurement." It suddenly occurred to me that "being" is really what we recognize and identify our own tracks. Finally I could understand why Rossi would say "each summer...
评分Lucy. The film itself is sort of nonsense. But the sentence. "Time is the true unit of measurement." It suddenly occurred to me that "being" is really what we recognize and identify our own tracks. Finally I could understand why Rossi would say "each summer...
评分Lucy. The film itself is sort of nonsense. But the sentence. "Time is the true unit of measurement." It suddenly occurred to me that "being" is really what we recognize and identify our own tracks. Finally I could understand why Rossi would say "each summer...
评分Lucy. The film itself is sort of nonsense. But the sentence. "Time is the true unit of measurement." It suddenly occurred to me that "being" is really what we recognize and identify our own tracks. Finally I could understand why Rossi would say "each summer...
信息量比想象的大多了
评分意识流太强,但如果全是自己于自己意识的对话,简直就是把作品的重量托付给了自己的地位,仿佛权威写出的任何文字都是沉甸甸的一般。但实际上,倘若觉得这书沉,那只能说我们活的的确无趣,要么就是记性太差吧。说实话,的确不应该给低分来故意显示自己的无知,但这本书,真的,很低级啊
评分恐怕这是我脑补,不过真的从这本书里读出意大利人(Calvino, Antonioni, Fellini) 的环形叙事,疯狂画圆(隔一段就强调一下这是一本scientific autobiography,要切入主题开始讲具体的作品了!!你倒是讲啊:))。Rossi记仇被老师批评不会画画的段落让我笑得满地打滚。然后是诗意的结尾:整本自传是完全独立的project——真的浑身战栗,感觉透过神明的眼眸瞥见了世界。借用Vincent Scully的结语:"Speechless, we open our hearts to them (vehicles of remembrance), and they guard our dreams."
评分像是回忆录一样的文字,有着读本雅明的柏林童年的感觉。虽然以解释他的项目为全书的主线,然而这些解释,都被一些插进来的思绪扯得乱七八糟。正如他自己所说‘love things which are broken and then reassembled"。不过,你丫也想的太多了吧。
评分以前完全不知道罗西,以后也可能会忘记,但他在我关键的时候扶了我一把我会感恩一辈子。
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