In San Geminiano: “A Ruby among Many Pearls,” Kristin Love Huffman and Iara Dundas use a digital reconstruction to reconsider the sixteenth-century Venetian church of San Geminiano and its siting within Piazza San Marco. Demolished in 1807, the church was significant within its Venetian context, but its importance has largely been forgotten. Through their historical reconstruction, based on analyses of archival plans and elevations, illustrated representations, written descriptions and inscriptions, and theoretical treatises, Huffman and Dundas demonstrate the methodological processes of 3-D modeling and the interpretive value of the resulting models for the study of architectural and urban histories. In addition, their work on San Geminiano enables a reevaluation of this historically important yet now lost structure's architecture and its relationship to the space of Piazza San Marco—the political center, socioeconomic nexus, and ceremonial entry point of Venice.
Preindustrial public and state granaries were utilitarian buildings, but they were also instruments of food security regimes, representing a government's promise of abundance for its people. In the early modern period such granaries became widespread across Asia, Europe, and European colonies, ranging from territorial storehouse networks to monumental civic buildings near city centers. In Reserved Abundance: State Granaries of Early Modern Istanbul, Namık Erkal discusses Ottoman Istanbul's state granaries, using primary textual and visual sources to trace the type's evolution from modified, repurposed buildings (e.g., shipsheds and bathhouses) to purpose-built storehouses. He also evaluates the forms and importance of storage systems such as encased single-layer and double-stacked wooden grain bins. Erkal defines the capacities, dimensions, and variations of Istanbul's granaries, maps their locations in relation to major urban functions and locales, and compares them with similar buildings within and outside Ottoman domains.
Luxury Hotels and Urban Hostels: Carl Fisher, Resort Architecture, and the Contrasting Worlds of Miami Beach's Pre-Depression-Era Lodging contrasts two approaches to hotel building in Miami Beach during the early to mid-1920s. Keith D. Revell describes how luxury resort hotels, exemplified by Carl Fisher's Flamingo (1920), offered recreation activities and elaborate venues for socializing for successful businessmen and their families. While these hotels projected affluence and exclusiveness, most of the city's hotels were urban hostels: small in scale, with limited amenities, integrated into the urban grid, and serving a broad array of middle- and working-class visitors. Although both luxury hotels and urban hostels were decorated with Spanish colonial motifs, they differed markedly in size, siting, function, and audience. Luxury hotels and urban hostels thus show how different approaches to city building and urban image making—one developer led, the other market led—shaped the nation's premier winter resort in the early twentieth century.
Focusing on the 1960s–70s project to build a trans-African highway network, Infrastructure between Statehood and Selfhood: The Trans-African Highway argues for the need to develop a more dialectical understanding of the relationship between people and infrastructure than current architectural and urban scholarship affords. As Kenny Cupers and Prita Meier describe, African leaders imagined infrastructure as a vehicle of Pan-African freedom, unity, and development, but the construction of the Trans-African Highway relied on expertise and funding from former colonial overlords. Based on archival research, visual analysis, and ethnographic fieldwork in Kenya, this article examines the highway's imaginaries of decolonization to show how infrastructure was both the business of statehood and a means of selfhood. From the automobile and the tarmac road to the aesthetics and practices of mobility these fostered, infrastructure was a vehicle for the production of subjectivity in postindependence Kenya. This new selfhood, future oriented and on the move, was both victim and agent of commodification.
In Design and Contestation in the Jewish Settlement of Hebron, 1967–87, Noam Shoked explores how this settlement, built on lands Israel captured from Jordan in the Six-Day War of 1967, became a site of both collaboration and confrontation among architects, settlers, and government officials. Working for the government, architects at first sought to mitigate the ambitions of the settlers, but their plans were undermined by unexpected actors, such as amateur archaeologists and volunteer architects, who commandeered their designs. Unearthing the architectural history of the settlement, this article questions the received history of settlement design as the outcome of military strategy and points to the unanticipated ways in which Hebron's religious settlers drew on mainstream architectural culture to fashion their identities.