Remembering Paolo Soleri

Detail at Cosanti in Paradise Valley

Last week I was in Flagstaff for a retrospective of Paolo Soleri’s work at Northern Arizona University (“Paolo Soleri: Think. Draw. Build. Sustain,” through April 13). I was moved by Soleri’s beautiful renderings and unusual ideas. Among his models and drawings were a number of bridges, which seemed to be a particular fascination for this visionary architect whose work spanned multiple disciplines. Yesterday, I was sad to learn that he had crossed another bridge, dying at the age of 93 at his home in Paradise Valley, AZ.

Born in 1919 in Turin, Italy, Paolo Soleri continued his architectural studies in the U.S. with Frank Lloyd Wright at Taliesin and Taliesin West. He settled permanently in Arizona in 1956, establishing a home and studio in Paradise Valley, which he named Cosanti, a coined word from the Italian for “against things,” referring to the materialism and commercialism that so often keep us out of harmony with nature. That theme was apparent in the work chosen for NAU’s exhibition, combining organic forms, bold color, and equally bold ideas about how we can find more sustainable ways to live on earth.

Most mornings, I begin by checking in with one of my favorite blogs, Grist. In contrast to typically alarmist news about how we have become disconnected from our environment, Grist often highlights inspiring stories about people who are innovating ways to live in harmony with the planet. Decades ago, Paolo Soleri did that, recognizing that we could turn our backs on materialism to embrace nature’s grand scale and organic forms while still satisfying the human need for beauty and order.

Soleri may not have been the first to imagine this holistic approach (his work has echoes of ancient archaeology and Leonardo da Vinci, as well as Frank Lloyd Wright), but he was unafraid of risk, experimentation, and rejection. He also coined the word arcology, combining ecology and architecture, to promote a very different human interaction with earthly spaces. Think of it: Most of our homes are variations on boxes, and this was a man who truly saw outside the box.

Many of Soleri’s designs remain dreams, never achieving public support or funding. Among his realized works in Arizona we have Cosanti and Arcosanti (his experimental urban community, about 5 percent complete). Both are places where we can stand inside this man’s vision and be embraced by his sensibilities for architecture, nature, and even music, art, mathematics, and history. And a few years back, one of his many bridge designs was completed, essentially a giant solar calendar crossing the Arizona Canal in Scottsdale. On April 20, a movie about Soleri will be screened at the Scottsdale Museum of Contemporary Art as part of Modern Phoenix Week.

Paolo Soleri was ahead of his time, but I have a feeling that the rest of us will catch up and catch on, and that one day I’ll be reading Grist to learn that someone has picked up a Soleri concept and adapted it to real-world conditions. A few decades ago, his ideas may have looked like something out of a science fiction film. Someday, Paolo Soleri’s vision could be the view outside our front doors.

Living with deadlines

Aspens in autumn, Flagstaff, Arizona

Getting projects done on time is definitely a big part of a writer’s life. Someone once suggested to me that I should start referring to my deadlines as “lifelines.” His reasoning was that even thinking the word “dead” was bound to create negativity and stress. I saw his point. Furthermore, saying “I'm working late because I have a lifeline” would better reflect that writing is my livelihood, something that supports me.

But the new terminology never stuck, and years later, I’m still saying and thinking “deadline,” even though other options abound. Due date? (Working on a book is a bit like a pregnancy and delivery, especially the labor aspect.) Completion date? (Blah.) Target date? (Nope—creates a sense of anxiety that I might miss the target.) I’d like to call it a “freedom date,” but that may lure my focus away from the project at hand to the fun that beckons beyond it. 

Try as I might to create balance—put more life into a deadline—things still tend to come to a standstill when my focus narrows to one project, one date. Less urgent projects (and blogging) get shoved to the side. Personal trips are cancelled. Creativity leaks away from other areas like cooking and gardening. Life dies a little bit.

The idea that a word or label creates its own reality might be considered New Age, but it isn’t new. For centuries, humans have uttered mantras and prayers. Across different cultures and religions, creation and completion is linked to sound or word or logos—om, amen, shalom, salaam. We shout “Abracadabra” to create magic, or write “I will [fill in the blank]” a hundred times when we (or our schoolteachers) desire change. Words hold power. 

Hemingway said that he once revised a passage 39 times in order to “get the words right.” I haven’t yet found the right word or phrase to replace “deadline.” But I’d like to think that I continue to add more awareness to the term. Death, after all, is just another transformation. It’s as essential to life as winter is to the cycle of seasons, an in-gathering of energy before a fresh burst of creation. Without a deadline, I’d probably keep tinkering away on the same old project instead of beginning something new.

Deadlines. Can’t live with them. Can’t live without them.