The Ad Astra Tower, set to be constructed in Batumi, Georgia, will be the epitome of the multi-use high-rise development in the city, with retail, offices, apartments, a restaurant and a hotel, while also, as with Tom Wright’s many other projects, integrating aspects of the local architectural tradition.

The tower, standing at over eight-hundred feet tall, contains the many different spaces mentioned above, and all within an architecturally innovative structure, using the diagonal grid to support most of the building’s vertical load. Further, the minute details of the design, such as overhang depths and the presence of louvers on the outside of the structure aids in passive environmental control systems which use very little energy.  Finally, the crowning element is not merely a decorative finial, but the Astra Star Heliport, which can open to serve as a helicopter landing pad, makes this an extremely distinctive structure. All of these features are integrated into a structure inspired by old watchtowers in the region, evident in the taper toward the top, and the separation between the uppermost element and the top of the primary lower element.

Once again, Tom Wright has innovated and used very modern, almost futuristic styling and materials, with clear inspiration by the region’s built environment heritage, and done so while creating a wonderful space for doing work, enjoying leisure, and simply appreciating the spectacle of the edifice.

The Ribbon of Light building, planned in Tehran, Iran, will be a multi-use, ten story structure designed to catalyze further growth in the surrounding area.

The first three stories act as high-end retail space, the next five floors serve as office space, and the uppermost two floors are grand wedding halls. With recreation, production and consumption all provided within one single high-end space, well-planned developments within that community can go forward with a great precedent for community-building.

Where Tom Wright could have easily constructed this building, even in his sleek, ultra-modern style, in a simple construction with a lower pediment containing the retail space, a central region containing the offices, and an upper entablature housing the wedding halls, using the eponymous ribbon of light to simultaneously separate the different spaces and connect them all provides a visual indication of the structure’s mixed-use purpose, offering community planners inspiration for how to best zone the region.

The Capital Gate, another luxury hotel designed by Tom Wright, is a gem of Abu Dhabi. As the most inclined building in the world- it puts the leaning tower of Pisa to shame- it certainly makes an impression.

The curvilinear design of the building and its drastic inclination are massive innovative feats on top of the already futuristic style of Tom Wright. The lower framework and all-glass facade are, perhaps, to be expected of the architect, fitting neatly into his catalog of works. But he makes this building stand out via its sheer technical specifications, and the marvel of its engineering success.

Tom Wright could have easily constructed an impressive building in a picturesque setting simply by using his typical, sleek, shiny style, on a technically average building. But that was not enough, and he instead opted to pursue excellence in engineering in addition to excellence in design.

As we will see across this series of posts, the work of British architect Tom Wright is always futuristic and innovative in style, with plenty of white concrete, mirrored or blue glass, and sleek, unconventional lines. Despite this, he manages also to integrate traditions and local identity into his structures. Perhaps nowhere is this more evident than in his most famous work, the Burj Al Arab hotel in the UAE.

It is self-evident that this building is bold and unique. The curved side and the straight, the prominent helicopter pad, the tall finials extending above the primary structure, the brilliant windows. It is hard to miss. But, while all of these attributes are doubtlessly a part of its identity, its design is not merely “cool for the sake of being cool.” Rather, it draws inspiration from nautical themes present in the region’s longstanding cultural traditions of seafaring. Its resemblance to a sail is quite obvious, and no accident.

In this way, Tom Wright has created a truly unique piece of architecture, blending a unique and innovative design paradigm with elements of the cultural identity of those who inhabit the space.

For my final post, I will discuss a building which truly consolidates the themes of those I have discussed previously- friendship, memory, planning for the future, and personal growth, all of which are augmented by the architecture and design of this place.

Cuppies and Joe opened in 2008 on 23rd Street in Oklahoma City, predating the area’s development branding as Uptown, despite its character blending perfectly with the businesses that have moved in more recently. Its quaint appellation refers to its eponymous products- cupcakes and coffee. The architecture of Cuppies is remarkable not by virtue of its innovation, its staggering beauty, or its fantastic materials. Rather, as one might notice, the building is essentially a residential house. The interior of the building, while of course containing a counter at which to order and numerous tables and chairs, is ultimately also resemblant of a home in layout. Hardwood floors, walls and doorways, a narrow hallway from the front of the space to the back, an integrated desk and wooden shelves in a secluded area near the front, all issue feelings of domesticity and comfort.

It is this “homey” feeling which, when coupled with my own unique experiences here, earns Cuppies and Joe a place within my series of posts. After my mother decided she and my brother and I should make use of a beautiful spring day to spend some time outside, we opted to try Cuppies. Ever since, it has been a regular hang-out spot for almost everyone with whom I spend any significant amount of time. When my friends return from distant lands (a.k.a. college out-of-state) we always go here at least once. Anyone who is foreign to Oklahoma City and wants to learn of its best features I direct to Cuppies. More than anything, I remember sitting at one of its very vintage wooden tables in the warm incandescent light of the space, at the end of what I might say constitutes the best day of my life so far. We had shown a French foreign exchange student around the city all day, taking him to places like Pops and the Plaza district, and after dinner we decided it was time for dessert. We sat around and watched as Édouard  tried his first ever cupcake, smiling over the salted caramel. And were this place another stark, minimalist, modern chic boutique, as is so common of newer developments, I think the architecture would have been a detriment to the occasion. But in that warm, domestic space, I remember feeling contented with the day I had just spent with my friends. That day is only a memory now, but every time I drive down 23rd I see that little house that serves coffee, and I know that if I ever want the chance to feel a tinge of what I felt that day, all I need to do is stop by for an iced chai.

In my prior blogs, I discussed places which were formative for me principally through either education or competition, though admittedly my interpersonal experiences are what really make those places stand out in my memory. Here, I will bring forth a building which is material to me for different reasons, and whose place in my personal architectural canon cannot go without mention.

Super Cao Nguyen is easily the largest exotic marketplace in Oklahoma City, and likely the largest business in the city’s Asian District. Architecturally, the building is memorable, though not especially distinct- at the end of the day, it mostly resembles any given supermarket. Some exceptions might be its prominent vestibule, with large, intricate windows, unique bollards emblazoned with (what I believe are) Chinese characters, and pastel-green pillars with an identity obviously derived from traditions of the orient. What distinguishes the building from others at a level of design pertains more to the human element; it is not the support structures or material choices which strike one when entering the space. Rather, the authentically messy and irregular arrangement of the space and products inside, the long, long aisles with shelves stocked full of products which likely cannot be found anywhere else in the country- or at least in this part of the country-, each shelf topped with large furniture pieces or boxes of product precariously stacked atop one another. The way the space feels like it is run by and patronized by real people, rather than algorithms and market research teams, that is what stands out about it. A beautiful, comforting chaos.

My personal experience of the place, while certainly extensive with regards to the store itself, stems more from a restaurant contained within Super Cao’s ancillary space, visible in the above photograph to the far right with the high windows. In that tall space, always illuminated primarily, if not exclusively, by the light from those windows, the store keeps many of its statues and large exotic plants. And if one finds the staircase to the right and ascends it, they will exit onto a platform overlooking the space, from which they can reach Cafe Oasis. It is this strange little space which I associate most with this building. Located walking distance from my high school, my friends and had countless sojourns here, wherein we would discuss the trials and tribulations of the last phase of compulsory education, laugh over whatever silliness had transpired in our lives or on the internet recently, and sometimes ponder on the future, the big questions of life, and, frankly, do everything in our power to forestall going home. Cafe Oasis and Super Cao Nguyen do not speak to my own personal development so far, nor do they furnish me with opportunities to build the future. Much like my high school, they are the past. But they are a past I can return to anytime I want some Singapore noodles and boba tea.

In my previous post, I discussed the magnificent edifice of my high school. In this post, I will discuss a building at the University of Oklahoma, which bears a significance beyond its present utility to me as a student at the University: The Oklahoma Memorial Union.

One must begin with a discussion of the structure’s historical and architectural significance. The most prominent aspect of the building, its ninety-nine foot clock tower, is itself a statement on the nation’s history, as it was a WPA project; its imposing stature looms over the university and serves as a reminder of American exceptionalism during that era. Additionally, almost every part of the building serves as some kind of historical landmark or a form of remembrance for a historically significant Oklahoman. The red brick and off-white concrete finishing further solidifies the building’s identity as a part of this university, through the structure’s architectural design profile.

With regards to my own feelings on the building, much like my high school, a pang of nostalgia permeates my thoughts when they stray to the Union. It was the site of convention for my speech and debate team in high school during State tournaments, and before I was ever a student at the University, I had spent dozens of hours straying from the lounge with the pool tables and chairs to the Will Rogers dining area. I had purchased entirely too many things from Starbucks and what was then a Sbarro. I had laughed in exhaustion with my friends, too early in the morning and too late at night. I learned how to conduct myself like an adult- somewhat- in my suit and tie, a sixteen-year-old giving speeches on how to solve the problem of ISIS, how to fix relations with North Korea, or whatever else, as though I could have had the answers. I will never forget walking down the ramp toward that lounge, and seeing my friends, panicking over their debate rounds and speeches, all running on little or no sleep, dressed to the nines, giving preference to coffee to drink over air to breathe. The biggest difference between this and my high school is that the memories are not finished. Harding is the past, and as beautiful as it is, it is finished, perfect, and immutable. My experience with the Union is still evolving and being made. I look forward to seeing what else it has in store.

As one of several Harding alumni in this section, I am certain that I will not be the only person to publish a piece on this building. Despite this possible lack of uniqueness, I feel compelled to write about Harding. What this building means to me is merit enough to publish something, not to mention the historical, architectural, and community significance of the structure.

To begin with some of the historical and architectural importance of the building, one can see from the attached image that it is constructed in the fortress-like, brown brick style in which many pedagogical buildings were constructed during the era of Harding’s inception. Linoleum tile, fluorescent lights, light-colored wooden doors and handrails are pervasive in the space. Antique metal lockers- many of which having long-since become defunct- line the halls on both sides, old and often unceremonious paintings hanging on the taupe drywall above them speak to the notions of grandeur to which the school hopes its pupils aspire. Harding is also important to its community- located in the heart of a somewhat historic, quaint little neighborhood, it has become a fixture. This community was also important to the students- Oklahoma City’s famed Asian District, the Paseo, and some of the more interesting developments on Western Avenue and on 36th Street are all within walking distance from the school, providing innumerable opportunities for after school adventures, even for students who cannot yet drive.

As a quick aside, it is worth noting that Harding, the institution, has been relocated to another building- one which, while newer and nicer, and sans risk of asbestos- which lacks much of the classical beauty of the original building, and certainly the community element.

Finally, with regard to my experience of the building and my continued feelings toward it, I must say that I often sense a warm nostalgia when thinking on the place. Within those crowded and bustling halls, devoid of air conditioning, I would discover so much about the world, the people in it, and myself. I would find community in my peers, all of us bonding through the “trauma” of the preposterous workload for which the school is notorious. I would find a feeling of safety and comfort in expressing myself within the speech and debate team, my principal extra-curricular activity. I would learn how to really ask the important questions, and view the world analytically, to appreciate thorough and fastidious investigation and pondering of issues. I would learn how to make friends, to develop networks, and to enjoy the fruits of hard labor. I would, in short, become myself. So much of the growth I have experienced was catalyzed by the environment created in that old, poorly-ventilated building, sited not far from many of Oklahoma City’s greatest cultural centers. I can only hope that wherever I go next can afford me such room to grow.