Tuesday, March 19, 2013
March 18, 2013 Issue
David Owen is on a roll – three features in less
than two months: “The Psychology of Space” (The New Yorker, January 21, 2013) about the Norwegian architecture
firm Snøhetta; “Hands Across America” (The New Yorker, March 4, 2013) on the rise of Purell hand
sanitizer; and now, in this week’s issue, “Notes From Under Ground” about
Florida sinkholes and dry-downs. All three are immensely informative and
enjoyable. They consist of an amazing range of variegated materials and ideas:
Oslo Opera House, collectivist approach, Alexandria Library, keyless
structures, Norwegian Wild Reindeer Center Pavilion, World Trade Center,
visitor flow model, Times Square, de-cluttering, Gojo’s headquarters,
hand-hygiene lab, formulation lab, breakfast buffet table, treatment-resistant
pathogens, compliance monitoring system, Lake Jackson, karst, Talahassee,
Floridan Aquifier, Church Sink, deep-water cave divers, Wakulla Springs, Turner
Sink, Weeki Wachee Springs, Sinkhole Alley, sinkhole investors.
Owen’s choice of material, guided by his acute perception,
generates his vivid factual style, e.g., “He and Goldie mixed the first batches
in the washing machine in the basement of Goldie’s parents’ house – they were
living the attic – and packaged the finished product in pickle jars that Jerry
salvaged from area restaurants” (“Hands Across America”); “As we waited for an
express at Fourteenth Street, he said that in most stations you can anticipate
where the doors of the next train will open by looking for concentrations of
chewing-gum splats near the edges of the platforms” (“The Psychology of
Space”); “The mermaids smiled a lot, breathed from what looked like gas-station
hoses, and did a pretty good job of using awkward-seeming tails to propel
themselves across the stage, a deep spring that is part of the Floridan
Aquifier” (“Notes from Underground”).
I relish his use of “I” (“One afternoon, Dykers and I met at
his office and then took the subway uptown to look at the site”; “When I met
him, at Gojo’s headquaters, he told me that he began working there as a young
boy, and that one of his firsr assignments was sitting on freshly glued
shipping cartons, to keep the flaps from popping open”; “I was taken on a tour
by Jim Arbogast, a scientist who came to work at Gojo in 2002”; “During a
recent trip to Europe, I was mildly alarmed to find no serving tongs in the
breadbasket on my hotel’s breakfast-buffet table: the only way to pick up a
croissant was with my fingers”; “Early the next morning, I met the divers for
breakfast at their favorite Tallahassee assembly point, the Village Inn on
Apalachee Parkway”; “I couldn’t see into the backyard, but two children on the
sidewalk hollered, ‘We walked in the sinkhole!’”).
Owen is a subjectivist par excellence. I enjoy his work enormously.
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