Abstract:In January 1902, the rebuilt Lying-In Hospital of the City of New York received its first patient. The new hospital arrived at a moment of transition at several interlocking registers: new theorizations of vanguard hospital design; increasing medical specialization and professionalization; burgeoning awareness of germ theory and antiseptic procedures; and changing understandings of pregnancy, labor, childbirth, and postnatal care. The 1902 hospital sits at the nexus of these intersecting cultural threads. This article centers the 1902 Lying-In Hospital as a productive site for understanding changing conceptions of pregnancy and birthing in turn-of-the-century New York City and beyond. Through close study of the planning, construction, and operation of the hospital, it demonstrates that the building's plan made manifest physicians' efforts to professionalize obstetrics, articulate discrete stages of childbirth, and prevent midwives from practicing, emphasizing physicians' racialized and ethnicized thinking about the birthing practices of migrant women. These theoretical solutions for physicians, however, simultaneously transformed patients' understandings of pregnancy and birthing through the experiential space of the reorganized hospital. Unlike birthing in the home—wherein labor, delivery, and recovery all took place within a singular room—the hospital physically and temporally segregated labor, delivery, and postnatal care, contributing to the medicalization of childbirth.
{"title":"New Spaces for a New Midwifery at the Lying-In Hospital of the City of New York","authors":"Kathleen Pierce","doi":"10.1353/bdl.2022.0001","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/bdl.2022.0001","url":null,"abstract":"Abstract:In January 1902, the rebuilt Lying-In Hospital of the City of New York received its first patient. The new hospital arrived at a moment of transition at several interlocking registers: new theorizations of vanguard hospital design; increasing medical specialization and professionalization; burgeoning awareness of germ theory and antiseptic procedures; and changing understandings of pregnancy, labor, childbirth, and postnatal care. The 1902 hospital sits at the nexus of these intersecting cultural threads. This article centers the 1902 Lying-In Hospital as a productive site for understanding changing conceptions of pregnancy and birthing in turn-of-the-century New York City and beyond. Through close study of the planning, construction, and operation of the hospital, it demonstrates that the building's plan made manifest physicians' efforts to professionalize obstetrics, articulate discrete stages of childbirth, and prevent midwives from practicing, emphasizing physicians' racialized and ethnicized thinking about the birthing practices of migrant women. These theoretical solutions for physicians, however, simultaneously transformed patients' understandings of pregnancy and birthing through the experiential space of the reorganized hospital. Unlike birthing in the home—wherein labor, delivery, and recovery all took place within a singular room—the hospital physically and temporally segregated labor, delivery, and postnatal care, contributing to the medicalization of childbirth.","PeriodicalId":41826,"journal":{"name":"Buildings & Landscapes-Journal of the Vernacular Architecture Forum","volume":null,"pages":null},"PeriodicalIF":0.2,"publicationDate":"2022-03-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"76375278","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"艺术学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Asian, and Hispanic communities— each of which deserves much more attention, given that there is as much geographical diversity among these communities in America as there is cultural diversity in their practices, rituals, physical representations, and connections to areas such as food, music, and design. “Public mourning” is discussed with examination of “everyday memorials as spaces of public mourning,” including “vinyl decals, ghost bikes, Internet cemeteries . . . as objects of mourning” (115). This is one of the high points of Sloane’s investigation because it catalogs these expressions, including those in social media platforms, and explores their meanings. This section’s last chapter, “Reintroducing the Cemetery,” explores how cemeteries have become places where activities happen other than those associated with death. In creative efforts to remain relevant (or, more accurately, visible to new audiences), privately managed cemeteries have morphed into quasipublic spaces with events such as tours related to historical or celebrity occupants, funerary sculpture, and natural features; fundraising events for maintenance costs; theatrical productions, “ghost walks,” evening movies, touring bands, and comedy shows; and even 5K races. In doing so, the “paradox is that cemeteries are trying so hard to make themselves part of the public realm through the development of traditional (and innovative) tours and events,” rather than devoting time and attention to those for whom the cemetery exists— the families whose loved ones are buried there (156– 57). The final section examines “Memorials” and how such representations have evolved from gravestones incised with basic personal information, or perhaps a brief quotation about the deceased with an iconic symbol, to representations far removed from cemeteries that reflect contemporary social and cultural values, public “RIP” murals, roadside memorials, ghost bicycles, tattoos, and even digital platforms. Particularly insightful is Table 8.1, “Types of everyday memorials organized from personal to public” that lists eight “Types/ Focus” examples from “More Personal” to “More Public” with notations of locations, descriptions, decorative motifs, purposes, and origins (193). This chart, together with an earlier one, “Types and characteristics of digital memorial sites, categorized by personal to public” should certainly be the genesis of further academic explorations, from contemporary inclass discussions to future theses and dissertations (118). Sloane closes with speculations on how ongoing changes in attitudes about ethnic, racial, cultural, and sexual identities are represented in contemporary attitudes about death and cemeteries. Particularly poignant is his inclusion of the inscription on the grave marker of Technical Sergeant Leonard Matlovich, a gay Vietnam veteran, located in the Congressional Cemetery in Washington, D.C.: “When I was in the military/They gave me a medal for killing two men/And a dis
{"title":"Central Park's Adventure-Style Playgrounds: Renewal of a Midcentury Legacy by Marie Warsh (review)","authors":"K. Bresnahan","doi":"10.1353/bdl.2022.0006","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/bdl.2022.0006","url":null,"abstract":"Asian, and Hispanic communities— each of which deserves much more attention, given that there is as much geographical diversity among these communities in America as there is cultural diversity in their practices, rituals, physical representations, and connections to areas such as food, music, and design. “Public mourning” is discussed with examination of “everyday memorials as spaces of public mourning,” including “vinyl decals, ghost bikes, Internet cemeteries . . . as objects of mourning” (115). This is one of the high points of Sloane’s investigation because it catalogs these expressions, including those in social media platforms, and explores their meanings. This section’s last chapter, “Reintroducing the Cemetery,” explores how cemeteries have become places where activities happen other than those associated with death. In creative efforts to remain relevant (or, more accurately, visible to new audiences), privately managed cemeteries have morphed into quasipublic spaces with events such as tours related to historical or celebrity occupants, funerary sculpture, and natural features; fundraising events for maintenance costs; theatrical productions, “ghost walks,” evening movies, touring bands, and comedy shows; and even 5K races. In doing so, the “paradox is that cemeteries are trying so hard to make themselves part of the public realm through the development of traditional (and innovative) tours and events,” rather than devoting time and attention to those for whom the cemetery exists— the families whose loved ones are buried there (156– 57). The final section examines “Memorials” and how such representations have evolved from gravestones incised with basic personal information, or perhaps a brief quotation about the deceased with an iconic symbol, to representations far removed from cemeteries that reflect contemporary social and cultural values, public “RIP” murals, roadside memorials, ghost bicycles, tattoos, and even digital platforms. Particularly insightful is Table 8.1, “Types of everyday memorials organized from personal to public” that lists eight “Types/ Focus” examples from “More Personal” to “More Public” with notations of locations, descriptions, decorative motifs, purposes, and origins (193). This chart, together with an earlier one, “Types and characteristics of digital memorial sites, categorized by personal to public” should certainly be the genesis of further academic explorations, from contemporary inclass discussions to future theses and dissertations (118). Sloane closes with speculations on how ongoing changes in attitudes about ethnic, racial, cultural, and sexual identities are represented in contemporary attitudes about death and cemeteries. Particularly poignant is his inclusion of the inscription on the grave marker of Technical Sergeant Leonard Matlovich, a gay Vietnam veteran, located in the Congressional Cemetery in Washington, D.C.: “When I was in the military/They gave me a medal for killing two men/And a dis","PeriodicalId":41826,"journal":{"name":"Buildings & Landscapes-Journal of the Vernacular Architecture Forum","volume":null,"pages":null},"PeriodicalIF":0.2,"publicationDate":"2022-03-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"72660010","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"艺术学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
new version of the playground with smaller, linked versions of what originally had been distinct elements. The result, Warsh notes, was harshly criticized, perceived as a loss of integrity from the original, or even a “cartoonish” version of Dattner’s design. Here, as throughout the book, Warsh gives space to criticisms of the conservancy’s work in the park, but ultimately downplays these in concluding that the results ultimately were necessary and effective. Her claim that despite the criticisms of Ancient Playground, children continue to eagerly and joyfully play there, unaware of any loss of its modernist precedent, is an important one. In a space for play, is a “rich and engaging play experience” (10) the ultimate goal of preservation, rather than the specific material and formal qualities of a site? This is a question worth asking. But her defense of these preservation efforts can feel a bit onesided at times, rather than a real engagement with their critics. The book concludes on an intriguing note: while the designers of the adventurestyle playgrounds sought to create safe, protected spaces open to imaginative discovery and creative play, Warsh writes, they also sought to relate and connect playgrounds— and play— to the rest of urban life. In part, this is the motivation behind recent efforts to remove visible barriers between playground and park (as in the 2010 renovation of Heckscher Playground). But Warsh goes farther, calling on children and caregivers to look beyond the playground, “to see that play does not need to be limited to the domain of the playground . . . where there are rocks to climb, sticks to collect, lawns to run across, and no safety standards” (144). It is an interesting conjecture: if the adventurestyle playground seeks to unlock the child’s potential for exploration and limitless play, is the ultimate goal to transcend the playground altogether and return children to the park itself, as playground?
{"title":"Improbable Metropolis: Houston's Architectural and Urban History by Barrie Scardino Bradley (review)","authors":"Kathryn E. Holliday","doi":"10.1353/bdl.2022.0007","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/bdl.2022.0007","url":null,"abstract":"new version of the playground with smaller, linked versions of what originally had been distinct elements. The result, Warsh notes, was harshly criticized, perceived as a loss of integrity from the original, or even a “cartoonish” version of Dattner’s design. Here, as throughout the book, Warsh gives space to criticisms of the conservancy’s work in the park, but ultimately downplays these in concluding that the results ultimately were necessary and effective. Her claim that despite the criticisms of Ancient Playground, children continue to eagerly and joyfully play there, unaware of any loss of its modernist precedent, is an important one. In a space for play, is a “rich and engaging play experience” (10) the ultimate goal of preservation, rather than the specific material and formal qualities of a site? This is a question worth asking. But her defense of these preservation efforts can feel a bit onesided at times, rather than a real engagement with their critics. The book concludes on an intriguing note: while the designers of the adventurestyle playgrounds sought to create safe, protected spaces open to imaginative discovery and creative play, Warsh writes, they also sought to relate and connect playgrounds— and play— to the rest of urban life. In part, this is the motivation behind recent efforts to remove visible barriers between playground and park (as in the 2010 renovation of Heckscher Playground). But Warsh goes farther, calling on children and caregivers to look beyond the playground, “to see that play does not need to be limited to the domain of the playground . . . where there are rocks to climb, sticks to collect, lawns to run across, and no safety standards” (144). It is an interesting conjecture: if the adventurestyle playground seeks to unlock the child’s potential for exploration and limitless play, is the ultimate goal to transcend the playground altogether and return children to the park itself, as playground?","PeriodicalId":41826,"journal":{"name":"Buildings & Landscapes-Journal of the Vernacular Architecture Forum","volume":null,"pages":null},"PeriodicalIF":0.2,"publicationDate":"2022-03-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"77216888","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"艺术学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2021-10-13DOI: 10.5749/buildland.28.2.0025
Alec R. Stewart
abstract:Indoor swap meets proliferated within metropolitan Los Angeles's rapidly diversifying inner suburbs throughout the 1980s and 1990s, transforming onetime retail and industrial buildings into multitenant vendor markets. Relying on architectural and programmatic theming to attract Latinx shoppers, many swap meet managers built market environments that resembled Mexican mercados and tianguis. While some urbanists have interpreted these markets as sites of "Latino Urbanism," their Korean ownership, large cohorts of Asian vendors and Black shoppers, and ties to Asian banking and garment industries complicate these narratives. Tracing the origins of this Korean-dominated business niche through case studies in Koreatown, Lynwood, South Los Angeles, and Anaheim, this article illustrates how shoppers and vendors used swap meets' non-White social environments to negotiate class and social differences. Rather than essentializing these market environments as "Latinx" spaces, this article argues that swap meets are better understood as fertile sites of material and social exchange across ethnic and class lines.
{"title":"Los Angeles's Indoor Swap Meet Boom and the Emergence of a Multiethnic Retailscape","authors":"Alec R. Stewart","doi":"10.5749/buildland.28.2.0025","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.5749/buildland.28.2.0025","url":null,"abstract":"abstract:Indoor swap meets proliferated within metropolitan Los Angeles's rapidly diversifying inner suburbs throughout the 1980s and 1990s, transforming onetime retail and industrial buildings into multitenant vendor markets. Relying on architectural and programmatic theming to attract Latinx shoppers, many swap meet managers built market environments that resembled Mexican mercados and tianguis. While some urbanists have interpreted these markets as sites of \"Latino Urbanism,\" their Korean ownership, large cohorts of Asian vendors and Black shoppers, and ties to Asian banking and garment industries complicate these narratives. Tracing the origins of this Korean-dominated business niche through case studies in Koreatown, Lynwood, South Los Angeles, and Anaheim, this article illustrates how shoppers and vendors used swap meets' non-White social environments to negotiate class and social differences. Rather than essentializing these market environments as \"Latinx\" spaces, this article argues that swap meets are better understood as fertile sites of material and social exchange across ethnic and class lines.","PeriodicalId":41826,"journal":{"name":"Buildings & Landscapes-Journal of the Vernacular Architecture Forum","volume":null,"pages":null},"PeriodicalIF":0.2,"publicationDate":"2021-10-13","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"81860798","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"艺术学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2021-10-13DOI: 10.5749/buildland.28.2.0096
Andrew Marshall
abstract:The Caroline County War Memorial Health Center in Bowling Green, Virginia, was one of more than 1,200 public health centers constructed across the United States in the quarter century after World War II. In 1946, the landmark federal health-care legislation known as the Hill-Burton Act, among its many initiatives, offered local governments financial and technical support to build dedicated structures for their public health departments. As a result, hygienic and up-to-date quarters were constructed in nearly every seat of government in Virginia. These modern health centers connected science, medicine, and architecture in service of the mission to safeguard and improve the public health of all citizens. Although the buildings were extensions of federal and state legislation, their execution was controlled by local officials and their political and fiscal conservatism often inhibited architectural ambition. The designs for public health centers relied upon modernist design planning and materials but employed a broad array of applied styles influenced by their immediate architectural context. The public health centers of post–World War II Virginia embodied a distinctively local engagement between the political and architectural realms.
{"title":"\"A Suitable Memorial\": The History of Public Health Centers in Post–World War II Virginia","authors":"Andrew Marshall","doi":"10.5749/buildland.28.2.0096","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.5749/buildland.28.2.0096","url":null,"abstract":"abstract:The Caroline County War Memorial Health Center in Bowling Green, Virginia, was one of more than 1,200 public health centers constructed across the United States in the quarter century after World War II. In 1946, the landmark federal health-care legislation known as the Hill-Burton Act, among its many initiatives, offered local governments financial and technical support to build dedicated structures for their public health departments. As a result, hygienic and up-to-date quarters were constructed in nearly every seat of government in Virginia. These modern health centers connected science, medicine, and architecture in service of the mission to safeguard and improve the public health of all citizens. Although the buildings were extensions of federal and state legislation, their execution was controlled by local officials and their political and fiscal conservatism often inhibited architectural ambition. The designs for public health centers relied upon modernist design planning and materials but employed a broad array of applied styles influenced by their immediate architectural context. The public health centers of post–World War II Virginia embodied a distinctively local engagement between the political and architectural realms.","PeriodicalId":41826,"journal":{"name":"Buildings & Landscapes-Journal of the Vernacular Architecture Forum","volume":null,"pages":null},"PeriodicalIF":0.2,"publicationDate":"2021-10-13","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"85904980","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"艺术学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2021-10-13DOI: 10.5749/buildland.28.2.0045
Margaret M. Grubiak
abstract:In 1958, the Vestavia Hills Baptist Church transformed a faux-Roman temple house (built in 1925) outside of Birmingham, Alabama, into a space appropriate for Baptist worship. Yet Vestavia's decades-long history of pagan worship, dancing, and drinking stood in direct conflict with Southern Baptist beliefs and cultural practices. This article considers an unusual example of ecclesiastical adaptive reuse to argue that Vestavia's pagan and entertaining past brought Baptist views on sin into sharp relief. Vestavia Hills Baptist Church also crafted a narrative centered on the building's transformation from pagan temple to Christian church to place the new congregation within a much longer Christian heritage.
{"title":"From Roman Temple to Baptist Church: Sin and Transformation in Southern Baptist Culture","authors":"Margaret M. Grubiak","doi":"10.5749/buildland.28.2.0045","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.5749/buildland.28.2.0045","url":null,"abstract":"abstract:In 1958, the Vestavia Hills Baptist Church transformed a faux-Roman temple house (built in 1925) outside of Birmingham, Alabama, into a space appropriate for Baptist worship. Yet Vestavia's decades-long history of pagan worship, dancing, and drinking stood in direct conflict with Southern Baptist beliefs and cultural practices. This article considers an unusual example of ecclesiastical adaptive reuse to argue that Vestavia's pagan and entertaining past brought Baptist views on sin into sharp relief. Vestavia Hills Baptist Church also crafted a narrative centered on the building's transformation from pagan temple to Christian church to place the new congregation within a much longer Christian heritage.","PeriodicalId":41826,"journal":{"name":"Buildings & Landscapes-Journal of the Vernacular Architecture Forum","volume":null,"pages":null},"PeriodicalIF":0.2,"publicationDate":"2021-10-13","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"91343254","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"艺术学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2021-10-13DOI: 10.5749/buildland.28.2.0071
J. Fletcher
abstract:The postwar period of urban renewal in the United States has been critiqued for authoritarian planning that remade the landscape of cities without consulting residents. In the literature on New York City, the clashes between Robert Moses and Jane Jacobs are often used to illustrate tensions between bureaucratic and grassroots understandings of cities. By examining the work of Elisabeth Coit, a principal project planner for New York City's Housing Authority (NYCHA), this article complicates such oppositions between top-down and bottom-up planning. Coit's overlooked practice shows how a progressive architect incorporated the wishes of working-class tenants into the design of postwar public housing projects.Coit traveled to cities across the United States to study the housing of workers during the Great Depression. On the basis of her research, she criticized prevailing trends in mass-housing design and argued that architects should plan spaces that suited how tenants used their homes. When Coit became a NYCHA planner several years later, she put a tenant-first ethos into practice in planning the Bronx River Houses (1951). This paper also argues that her deference to the wishes of tenants resulted in designs that were intended to facilitate conventional gendered divisions of domestic labor and leisure.
摘要:美国战后的城市更新被批评为在没有征求居民意见的情况下重塑城市景观的威权规划。在关于纽约市的文献中，罗伯特·摩西和简·雅各布斯之间的冲突经常被用来说明官僚和基层对城市的理解之间的紧张关系。通过研究纽约市住房管理局(NYCHA)的首席项目规划师Elisabeth Coit的工作，本文使自上而下和自下而上规划之间的对立变得复杂。科伊特被忽视的实践展示了一个进步的建筑师如何将工人阶级租户的愿望融入战后公共住房项目的设计中。科伊特前往美国各个城市，研究大萧条时期工人的住房情况。在她的研究基础上，她批评了大规模住房设计的流行趋势，并认为建筑师应该规划适合租户使用房屋的空间。几年后，当科伊特成为纽约cha的规划师时，她在规划布朗克斯河屋(Bronx River Houses, 1951年)时，将房客优先的理念付诸实践。本文还认为，她对租户意愿的尊重导致了旨在促进传统的家务劳动和休闲性别分工的设计。
{"title":"\"Where Tenants and Tenets Don't Agree\": Elisabeth Coit and the Planning Practices of the New York City Housing Authority (1934–51)","authors":"J. Fletcher","doi":"10.5749/buildland.28.2.0071","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.5749/buildland.28.2.0071","url":null,"abstract":"abstract:The postwar period of urban renewal in the United States has been critiqued for authoritarian planning that remade the landscape of cities without consulting residents. In the literature on New York City, the clashes between Robert Moses and Jane Jacobs are often used to illustrate tensions between bureaucratic and grassroots understandings of cities. By examining the work of Elisabeth Coit, a principal project planner for New York City's Housing Authority (NYCHA), this article complicates such oppositions between top-down and bottom-up planning. Coit's overlooked practice shows how a progressive architect incorporated the wishes of working-class tenants into the design of postwar public housing projects.Coit traveled to cities across the United States to study the housing of workers during the Great Depression. On the basis of her research, she criticized prevailing trends in mass-housing design and argued that architects should plan spaces that suited how tenants used their homes. When Coit became a NYCHA planner several years later, she put a tenant-first ethos into practice in planning the Bronx River Houses (1951). This paper also argues that her deference to the wishes of tenants resulted in designs that were intended to facilitate conventional gendered divisions of domestic labor and leisure.","PeriodicalId":41826,"journal":{"name":"Buildings & Landscapes-Journal of the Vernacular Architecture Forum","volume":null,"pages":null},"PeriodicalIF":0.2,"publicationDate":"2021-10-13","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"81886297","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"艺术学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2021-09-01DOI: 10.1353/bdl.2021.a813375
L. Rainville
{"title":"Death and Rebirth in a Southern City: Richmond's Historic Cemeteries by Ryan K. Smith (review)","authors":"L. Rainville","doi":"10.1353/bdl.2021.a813375","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/bdl.2021.a813375","url":null,"abstract":"","PeriodicalId":41826,"journal":{"name":"Buildings & Landscapes-Journal of the Vernacular Architecture Forum","volume":null,"pages":null},"PeriodicalIF":0.2,"publicationDate":"2021-09-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"73860320","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"艺术学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2021-09-01DOI: 10.1353/bdl.2021.a813377
Pollyanna Rhee
{"title":"The Responsive Environment: Design, Aesthetics, and the Human in the 1970s by Larry D. Busbea (review)","authors":"Pollyanna Rhee","doi":"10.1353/bdl.2021.a813377","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/bdl.2021.a813377","url":null,"abstract":"","PeriodicalId":41826,"journal":{"name":"Buildings & Landscapes-Journal of the Vernacular Architecture Forum","volume":null,"pages":null},"PeriodicalIF":0.2,"publicationDate":"2021-09-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"86208076","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"艺术学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2021-09-01DOI: 10.1353/bdl.2021.a813380
Elliott Sturtevant
{"title":"Environmental Design: Architecture, Politics, and Science in Postwar America by Avigail Sachs (review)","authors":"Elliott Sturtevant","doi":"10.1353/bdl.2021.a813380","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/bdl.2021.a813380","url":null,"abstract":"","PeriodicalId":41826,"journal":{"name":"Buildings & Landscapes-Journal of the Vernacular Architecture Forum","volume":null,"pages":null},"PeriodicalIF":0.2,"publicationDate":"2021-09-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"74582073","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"艺术学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
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