Rebecca Dorris Steiger wears many hats. She's a senior interior designer and associate at Gensler; and, earlier this year, she was appointed president of the IIDA NY Chapter. She traces her involvement in the IIDA to 2001, when she joined the San Francisco chapter. Subsequently, she served as Vice President of Membership and Vice President of Communications for the Northern California Chapter. Her work on the Board of Directors helped the chapter win IIDA Large Chapter of the Year in 2005. After her return to New York in 2006, she quickly got involved with the NY Chapter. We recently sprung our ever-popular FORM questionnaire on her, since she has a unique view of the design profession, both as a practioner and a leader, promoting the field and educating its members.
There are too few opportunities to enjoy the art of cinema at its best. It requires an near-miraculous fusion of all the elements, perfectly projected on a big screen to an appreciative audience. If you don't have a private screening room you are limited to the American Cinematheque, and a handful of Academy offerings. To fill the void, the Hammer's Billy Wilder Theater is hosting The Contenders, a series of nine new releases selected by the Museum of Modern Art Film Department. The goal is to show features from around the world that are up for awards and deserve enduring fame. Most have had limited theatrical distribution, crowded out by mindless blockbusters and the endless stream of Hollywood drivel. As a bonus, directors and actors will engage in post-screening discussions.
We first encountered Jamie Wolfond almost two years ago. A student at RISD, he had created a piece he dubbed the Emergency Bench, incoporating inflatable rafting tubes into a witty piece of seating that could be set up on the fly. Since then, he and his girlfriend, Samantha Anderson, have founded Good Thing, a Brooklyn-based firm. We recently chatted with Jamie to find out what life is like outside of design school and how his approach to his work has changed in the last few years.
Though Carlo Scarpa was never licensed to practice architecture and was repeatedly sued by representatives of the profession, he created a unique and enduring body of work, in his native Venice and its hinterland. He was revered as a teacher, excelled as a glass designer, and his mastery of detail is memorialized in the adjective "Scarparesque." In contrast to Gio Ponti, who popularized modernism and had an international practice, Scarpa stayed close to home, working more as an artisan than as a formgiver.
By Michael Webb
As real estate values skyrocket, young professionals who want to live in the heart of big cities on a budget are increasingly drawn to micro apartments that provide them with a minimum of private space as an alternative to sharing. Living small is nothing new. The poor have always endured cramped quarters—from primitive huts to tenements or trailers—and the homeless are grateful for a modest room in an SRO. Le Corbusier and his wife spent many summers in their 12-foot-square cabin in Roquebrune. When he first visited India to design Chandigarh, the master said he couldn't improve on the versatility of the linear shacks that families construct from scavenged materials beside major highways. Little has changed since then. A few years ago, architect Bijoy Jain showed me through such a shelter outside his studio in Bombay; it was a marvel of ingenuity, impeccably maintained, and he was greeted as a welcome guest.