up your architecture.

I don't often get a chance to gush about how proud I am of my brother or what a great guy he is, but I'd like to take an entry to wish him a great 21st birthday. I wanted to try and take some time off to go over to Savannah and surprise him, but it just didn't work out financially or vacationally.

Anyhow, I had a really great time hanging out with David over the holidays and can't wait to go out and visit him for St. Patrick's Day. He's currently kicking a lot of ass over at Savannah College of Art and Design in the sequential art program and making huge strides every time I see his new stuff. Enough of the proud older brother bit. Happy B-Day Bro!

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Design Studio Poetry Corner for 31 January:

Round by Quincy Davisson

When I say "world" I mean the roundness of it,
The quality of full. I mean the radius,
The circumference of days. I mean
The force of gravity, I mean all,
I mean people as in all humans, I mean light
As a ray and particle, I mean oceanmountainsky,
I mean this second and everything
That is endless I mean everything
You've ever loved

Posted by James Wheeler at 12:29 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Here is Brandon, our construction manager's road map of how you fund one of our houses. And that's a simple one. You want to know why people are pissed about the way money has been distributed? Here's your answer:

Posted by James Wheeler at 02:25 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

As usual, it took a major funder to get the Center over in Biloxi to finally get the sign out front together that we've been working on forever, but it's finally up and it looks pretty excellent. Anyhow, that along with the fact that on the revised telephone sheet over here in the Bay referring to the Design Studio as "drafting" got me thinking about our role on the coast and how, like the rest of our industry, we provide value to not only the residents of our community but to the people and organizations that we are working side by side with.

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Design Studio Poetry Corner for 24 January:

brown and solemn by charles bukowski

the dog jumps up on the bed
crawls over me.
"are you the Word?" I ask him.
he doesn't answer.
"are you the Word? I'm looking for the Word."
he has brown and solemn eyes.
"I'm waiting for the Word," I tell him,
"I'm walking around like a man
in a large hot
frying pan."
he wags his tail and tries to lick my face.

"listen," she says from the bathroom,
"why don't you get out of bed and stop talking to that dog?"

my parents didn't understand me
either.

Posted by James Wheeler at 06:04 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Sarah and Kristen are so worried that they're going to miss something that they run on ahead... sort of.

It's really interesting to me as I start hitting the milestones which mark a year of being on the coast. As they begin to pass it has me thinking a lot about how much my life has changed for the better over this last year. There are things that I tackled that I had been preparing for (moving down to do work on the coast) and things that blindsided me (my Dad's cancer) but looking back over the year those things in particular, along with a slew of others have made a profound impact on my relationships and outlook.

One of the most life affirming things that happens on the coast with all the fanfare of Mardi Gras but with a slightly more profound message is the parade held in Biloxi every year for Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. which ends at Yankie Stadium with a battle of the (marching) bands. Last year I missed the battle because I was picking up Shana upon her arrival to the coast but did get a chance to see the parade for a bit.

This year I had the chance to experience it in all it's glory. With floats and marching bands aplenty from as far away as Atlanta, GA, there was plenty to see in the parade that included volunteer organizations like Hands On and Americorps to a local group of elderly churchgoers that have formed a walking club to motorcycle clubs, step groups, and Mardi Gras Krewe's paying homage to one of the great civil rights leaders in our country's history.

I'm going to try and load up some of the Battle of the Marching Bands on to my YouTube account, but suffice to say it was awesome with all the bands flowing into the stadium bleachers and then playing back and forth between one another until they one by one ran out of material and dropped out.

Fashionistas in the foreground

For now though, I'm going to leave you with one of my favorite Martin Luther King Jr. quotes in lieu of Poetry Corner...

"Human progress is neither automatic nor inevitable... Every step toward the goal of justice requires sacrifice, suffering, and struggle; the tireless exertions and passionate concern of dedicated individuals."

Posted by James Wheeler at 06:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Don't worry, there's nothing actually wrong with the crawfish, except there wasn't much left when we got done with it. Anyhow, for Shana's last big hurrah while in town, her and a collection of the Women of Architecture sans Jody and Christine headed over to the Bay for some S&B's action. While the crawfish wasn't hot, the spices were, and we had a great dinner.

This picture ended up looking like they were a choir, so we gave them a conductor in the front

Afterward we all headed back to my place and hung out until they finally had to head back for sleepiness was kicking in. But while she was here, she took my camera about my new place and snapped some pictures which I followed up with and have posted in the previous post on my flickr site. The only trouble with Trouble? She had to go home too soon.

Like WoA: Jenny, Kristen, Shana, and Sarah

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Design Studio Poetry Corner for 22 January:

Butter/Lost By Mike Doughty

Against hands, a smooth is smoothed around and skin rushes up to it, cooling
sweat like a whistle defecting a steampipe.

Oiled, the machine chuffs and the brain is dry, and the nerves scurryoff
with messages to no one in charge, while this equals this: twoarms locked
into each other are without a mind to differentiate betweenlimbs and hips,
therefore, I have come here to get lost.

Posted by James Wheeler at 05:56 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Here's a quick note and link to pictures that Shana and I took of my new place in the bay while she was here. Click the flickr link to see the whole album!

Flickr: My New Home in Hancock County

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Design Studio Poetry Corner for 21 January:

Cherry Pop by John Rezmerski

A woman with white hair
and wrinkles like the grain of wood
gets on the bus with an old man
who has trouble lifting his legs up the steps.
They sit together, across from me,
holding hands. One of them, or both,
smells like cherry pop. I wonder.

Maybe it is some kind of medicine.
It seems too strong to be on their breath
after a stop at a snack bar.
Perhaps it is some kind of lotion.

I imagine them naked in bed,
rubbing each other with cherry pop,
bubbles lingering on
the parchment of his belly and
under the folds of her breasts.
I see the two of them splashing
in a tub of red suds, him yelling
"Catch the submarine!" while
she laughs and rolls over like an otter.
Some days, they might use
rootbeer or cream soda.
Other days, she has a headache
or his prostate bothers him,
and they do not speak to each other
all day long,
and they keep wanting the telephone to ring,
not even thinking who they want to call.

If it were not for cherry pop,
they might never go anywhere
might not think of anything at all,
much less that they would ever be lonely.

Posted by James Wheeler at 02:59 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Fear not faithful readers. As you can see by the Chapter. There is plenty to catch up on in between this post and the last. In addition to my big move, I also have a computer that has crapped out on me twice which is now getting replaced and an office that isn't quite an office yet. You'll be getting to know a completely new part of the Coast along with me, get introduced to my new crib, my adopted house cat, and introduced to the new Hancock County crew as well as a series of events that are unfolding in 2008 that may prove to be the most eventful (not to mention travel-filled) year yet!

Anyhow, please check out the x-mas dopeness that my friends Anderson and Stacy sent me from the frozen north as modeled by Anderson and Stacy that is a precursor to some sweet UYA swag that I hope to have available in the first quarter of this year. As for the hat: Best Christmas gift of all time? Oh, it's up there...

Posted by James Wheeler at 10:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

While perusing the book of faces today when I stopped into work for a minute, I noticed a link to BLDGBLOG which I have been neglecting and came across a most ridiculous article which I just had to share with you before I got my massive back postings up. Apparently Dubai has secured the rights to replicate the French city of Lyons for what the BLDGBLOG folks equate to a franchising fee. Hmm, I wonder how much we could get for some of our cities?

Posted by James Wheeler at 10:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Just a quick one here to wish my Mom a happy birthday and to tell my computer *$&# you very much, again.

Posted by James Wheeler at 04:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

They are starting MEPs over at the Creel House which makes me extremely happy. Although they did end up nixing the transom window idea that I had for the lofted ceiling, the house is looking awesome from the exterior and coming right along as they finish rough-ins on the inside. All things considered, CAM-OH has done an absolutely astounding job turning this boat around. The craftsmanship is great and I'm glad that we could make this happen after early setbacks.

**Update: MEP stands for Mechanical/Electrical/Plumbing**

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Design Studio Poetry Corner for 14 January:

The Giver of Stars by Amy Lowell

Hold your soul open for my welcoming.
Let the quiet of your spirit bathe me
With its clear and rippled coolness,
That, loose-limbed and weary, I find rest,
Outstretched upon your peace, as on a bed of ivory.
Let the flickering flame of your soul play all about me,
That into my limbs may come the keenness of fire,
The life and joy of tongues of flame,
And, going out from you, tightly strung and in tune,
I may rouse the blear-eyed world,
And pour into it the beauty which you have begotten.

Posted by James Wheeler at 04:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

In addition to attempting to get the Studio up and running over here and my normal workly duties, I've also been settling into my new place and trying to unpack/repack/organize/reorganize my life worth of boxes and plastic tubs.

While I was going through things and getting things set up in my loft space, I tried to take pictures over the last couple of days so you could see the progress (hopefully) as I make my way closer to liveable.

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Design Studio Poetry Corner for 11 January:

Tonight I can write the saddest lines
by Pablo Neruda

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example,'The night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in the distance.'

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me sometimes, and I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is shattered and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight searches for her as though to go to her.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another's. She will be another's. Like my kisses before.
Her voide. Her bright body. Her inifinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my sould is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.

Posted by James Wheeler at 04:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Tell me you wouldn't think about it and you're either: a) a liar or b) never saw Dukes of Hazzard or Knight Rider

It's been a pretty hectic week since getting back from Minneapolis. I have to say that there are a slew of projects and organizations over here that need the help that the Design Studio can do our best to assist with which makes me happy. I can also say that there are a slew off... well, you get the point. Either way, it's an interesting thing to be the only person over here operating in a satellite function while we get staffed up. I am really enjoying the experience of not only having my own projects but being a day to day part of shaping what is going to be happening with the Housing Resource Center in general.

Getting connected

To give you a Reader's Digest version of what I'm doing over here isn't the simplest thing, but I'll try to explain it as clearly as I can. Here goes:

1. Sherry-Lea Bloodwirth leaves her position with the East Biloxi Coordination Center where she was the financial director in October to become the head of a new center here that will be known as the Hancock Housing Resource Center. In addition she will be the head of the Long Term Recovery Committee which was previously operating in a similar fashion.

2. David Perkes, head of the Gulf Coast Community Design Studio talks with Sherry-Lea and they agree that it would be a good juncture and a great relationship to partner with the new Hancock HRC in a similar fashion to how we work in Biloxi already.

3. In our project meeting, David brings up the opportunity to go over to Hancock County and anchor down the Studio while we staff it up to presumably 4 employees including myself, a licensed architect, and two others.

4. In December, just prior to the holidays, I move over to Waveland, Mississippi with the intention of starting after the holidays as we start our new branch studio in Bay St. Louis to operate county-wide.

5. I get back to work after a great holiday and the fun has begun including helping non-profit builders refine and in some cases re-develop their existing floor plans they have been building with, catching residents that fall through the criteria cracks for the local non-profits but still require assistance with the rebuilding process, beginning the process of developing a system by which we can being to survey and map the County to better assess its needs, and setting up the Studio office so that we can begin to establish ourselves within the community and the Center itself.

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Design Studio Poetry Corner for 09 January:

Fall of Troy
Tom Waits

It’s the same with men as with horses and dogs
Nothing wants to die
Ethel and James they killed in a game
With guns too big for their hands
Just off St. Charles in no man’s land
And you’ll have to find your own way home, boys
You’ll have to find your own way home

The oldest was Troy, an eighteen year old boy
Shot dead in March in a robbery
His brothers started out to hell and to ruin
Troy’s killer was never caught, they say
Young Nick, he just went bad that day
Now he’ll have to find his own way home, boys
He’ll have to find his own way home

Why cook dinner, why make my bed
Why come home at all?
Out the door and through the woods
There’s a world where nothing grows

It’s hard to say grace and to sit in the place
Of someone missing at the table
Mom’s hair sprayed tight and her face in her hands
Watching TV for answers to me
After all she’s only human
And she’s trying to find her own way home, boys
She’s trying to find her own way home

My legs ache, my heart is sore
The well is full of pennies

Posted by James Wheeler at 04:44 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

As you could probably tell from the sheer volume of pictures around this time last year, I love crawfish and tonight, I got a little bit of religion before I ate the holy heck out of some great crawfish straigh from the Louisiana Bayou thanks to our friend Steve.

The first part of my night started with a gallery opening from my friend and client Lori Gordon at the artist's co-op downtown Bay St. Louis that she and her husband, Cairo (who makes beautiful driftwood chairs and small tables) belong to. Anyhow, if you remember, I helped design a steel frame structure for Lori for her property in Carriere which is coming along nicely (update soon!). She is a mixed-media artist creating great 3-D wall art/sculpture using all material that she has salvaged after Hurricane Katrina.

Last night, she debuted a breathtaking collection of reliquaries that were incredibly impressive. Lori was a great client and a great artist. If you'd like to check out more of her work. Check out her websites at: http://www.lorikgordon.blogspot.com/ and http://thekatrinacollectionbylorikgordon.blogspot.com/

After the debut and a great chat with Lori, I headed across the Bay St. Louis/Pass Christian bridge (which just recently finished installing it's tall lights) and headed over to the all new home of Jessie (of the Design Studio and couch surfing fame), Kendall (the official Hands On casework Diva), and Anne Kotelba (resident Jimmy Buffett-head an art outreach extraordinaire)... the Wisteria Estates in Ocean Springs! For a housewarming party, the girls talked Steve into helping out by getting a ton of great crawfish from his buddy that he used to work with in Louisiana and have the whole gang over for fun and frivolity.

Their new place is huge for only having three people and really affordable so I'm really happy for them, especially Jessie who has been trying to find something that she and her dog Deloris could live with for a long ass time. The three of them really seem to enjoy living together and I think they are going to have a great time at the "Estates".

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Design Studio Poetry Corner for 04 January:

It's Ours by Charles Bukowski

there is always that space there
just before they get to us
that space
that fine relaxer
the breather
while say
flopping on a bed
thinking of nothing
or say
pouring a glass of water from the
spigot
while entranced by
nothing

that
gentle pure
space

it's worth

centuries of
existence

say

just to scratch your neck
while looking out the window at
a bare branch

that space
there
before they get to us
ensures
that
when they do
they won't
get it all

ever.

Posted by James Wheeler at 04:41 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

After a great trip back (thanks again, Sarah) and a fast night of sleep on the WoA futon, it's back to work. I will be posting back-entries that I wrote up while I was up north along with photos over the next couple of days so keep checking back for entries and updates as I start my new adventure in Hancock County.

Posted by James Wheeler at 04:38 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

New Years Resolutions are something that I've had a varying degree of success with. I feel like I've gotten better at making resolutions that are realistic and achieveable as well as enriching my life in some way.

1. Get in better shape. Now I've been saying I'm doing this and in all truth, I go through spurts of athleticism which are oftentimes followed by spurts of sluggishness, a relentless amount of working, and lack of motivation. This needs to stop.

2. Get out of the house and see the South. Although I have had a chance to do a bit of exploring, it's been hard to really get out and explore. While the first half of 2008 looks busy with a chance to lecture at the University of Minnesota, a wedding in May, and a wedding in June, I'm hoping to squeeze in my first visit to Savannah in March for St. Patrick's day, and then plan a road trip for the summer.

3. Read More. This is plain and simple, but it falls into the same category as resolution number one. I operate in spurts where I'll read 3 books in two weeks and then none for three weeks. It's time to schedule some story hour time into my week.

4. Update my blog on a regular basis. Hmm, this seems to be turning into a list of things I just need to be better at doing on a regular basis, perhaps I could have made this list much shorter simply by making things more regular being my resolution, but on the other hand, that just sounds icky.

5. I'd like to put together a logo and do an overhaul to the site since I have access to dreamweaver and an inkling to produce apparel via a Cafe Press site in addition to making the site more interactive.

6. Talk about architecture on the blog more often. I know that it's meant as a forum to follow my life on the coast, but if what I am doing is architecture why should I not engage in rhetoric on the site? Also, to write more, Ruth has been more than patient with my promise that I would produce something that we can intellectually devour and I haven't been very good thus far.

I'd like to think that's it. If there is any other area of my life you think needs improvement, please e.mail me your comments or call me at 1.800.PISS.OFF.

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Design Studio Poetry Corner for 01 January:
(an old favorite from my friend Ruth)

How I Became Impossible by Mary Ruefle

I was born shy, congenitally unable to do anything
profitable, to see anything in color, to love plums,
with a marked aversion to traveling around the room,
which is perfectly normal in infants.
Who wrote this? were my first words.
I did not like to be torched.
More snow fell than was able to melt,
I became green-eyed and in due time traveled
to other countries where I formed opinions
on hard, cold, shiny objects and soft, warm,
nappy things. Late in life I began to develop
a passion for persimmons and was absolutely delighted
when a postcard arrived for the recently departed.
I became recalcitrant, spending more and more time
with my rowboat. All my life I thought polar bears
and penguins grew up together playing side by side
on the ice, sharing the same vista, bits of blubber
and innocent lore. One day I read a scientific journal:
there are no penguins at one pole, no bears
on the other. These two, who were so long intimates
in my mind, began to drift apart, each on his own floe,
far out into the glacial seas. I realized I was becoming
impossible, more and more impossible,
and that one day it really would be true.

Posted by James Wheeler at 04:37 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)