The non-visible radiocative spaces of the nuclear atmospheric testing

‘It is an awful responsibility which has come to us. We thank God that it has come to us, instead of to our enemies; and we pray that He may guide us to use it in His ways and for His purposes.’

Harry S. Truman’s speech at the White House, August 9, after the drop of nuclear bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki in August 6 and 9, 1945. 

After the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, nuclear weapons have been continuously detonated globally for testing purposes. These experiments took place in high and low altitude, underground and underwater, being dropped from towers, airplanes, balloons, missiles, blasted on the ground or on boats. The estimated total yield of nuclear atmospheric testing (excluding the underground ones) during the years 1945-1980 was 428 Megatons, an equivalent to about 29,000 Hiroshima size bombs (out of 510 Mt in total tests). Between the years 1946-1958 the U.S. have carried out 67 Nuclear atmospheric and underwater tests in the Marshall Islands yielding about 78.5 Mt. One of them was Castle Bravo, the most powerful nuclear device ever detonated by the U.S. (1,000 times larger than Hiroshima), which created a fallout of more than 11,00 square km, spreading traces of radioactive material as far as Australia, Japan, India the United States and even parts of Europe. This wasn’t a unique incident during this period, which resulted in unrestrained release of radioactive materials dispersed and deposited globally. ‘Revolving Clouds’ is a study that unveils the nature of the non-visible radioactive spaces that were generated during these tests locally, globally and universally. It uncovers their evolution by drawing the impact of each experiment in time, as well as reveals the potential accumulative effects of all of them on the environment. 

This project is also a study of human denial: Truman’s quote (above) assigns an external meaning to a manmade destruction by allocating the control and development of the bomb to God. In essence, it is detaching us from our own destructive tendencies. This schism of impotence and omnipotence of manmade actions to irreversibly change, evolve, and alter our environment in an accelerated pace is reflected in the amount of atmospheric nuclear testing that took place at the time. It also exposes our ultimate detachment from our true nature, and from the physical environment that surrounds us.

Making the invisible visible in the drawings is used to expose the effects of each detonation in time and space: from the radioactive debris in the ground, the water, to the spread of the radioactive clouds in the air and in space. Yet, it also reveals the lack of boundaries in our environment. There were no exterior and interior perimeters to these tests, and no form of impact was privileged over the other. Each, did not conclude at the contaminated fish, the burnt coconut tree, the contaminated ground, the deformed ship or the dead animals that were placed in it, but its impact rolled into a larger scale of space in time by its interaction with external forces. Ironically, even the choice of conducting U.S. nuclear experiments in a remote location in the southern hemisphere, did not prevent the radioactive debris to be carried up to the northern hemisphere by the global wind patterns.

And finally the abstract nature of the drawings and the aesthetics used to depict radiation exposure and contamination in them turned into a purposeful act. It allows us to look at such a charged issue, without the temptation of judgment, or the potential meaning of these experiments to the human environment. This is the ultimate statement of the project. Nature is not a separate entity; we are not detached from it but are an integral part of an environment in which our actions continuously impact a system in a constant flux. One, which evolves and reproduces without prioritizing the existence of our species within it. One, in which triggering a split of an atom releases enough energy to alter and make it uninhabitable for our own.

Under Construction, Upper West Side, 2007

It’s Friday afternoon and one of my early projects as a young, New York designer, is finally assembled on site, heavily detailed with custom mill and metal work.  Diane is coming for a visit.  I’m standing in the main space when she enters..

“Wow Daniel, it looks fabulous,” she says. 
“It’s almost perfect,” I contest. 
“But…?” 
“They forgot one of the reveals around the beam,” I say vexed. 
“Where?” she rightfully wonders, as it is barely noticeable.  I point up to a hidden corner.
“Good!” She exclaims.
“Good?!” I retort.
“It’s a good sign you feel pain!  Architecture is sensual, it’s carnal; a missing detail is like a missing limb. Good architects always feel this pain.”

Public Hearing, Sarasota, Florida, 2008 

Having won an international competition sponsored by the World Monument Fund for an adaptive reuse of the Paul Rudolph Riverview and after nine months of design work and amendments, we begin our presentation to the public.  The panel includes Dr. Peter French, Moderator, Diane, Design Architect, Peter Brown, Administrative Liaison, and me, Project Architect.

The crowd is already hostile, when a group of demolition supporters begin to loudly interrupt any comment made by the panel.  The moderator quickly loses control and tension fills the space. 

Diane looks at me and winks. She takes the wooden model on her shoulder, and goes down the stage like a waitress in a cocktail bar, tending to tables, one by one, intimately sharing our proposal. 

Knickerbocker, West Village, 2009

We are having a dinner on 9th Street at one of Diane’s spots.

“I presented your research about the Paris BNF (National Library of France) when I was in Edinburgh,” she reveals nonchalantly, referring to my idea that Perrault’s BNF was designed as if it were a fragment of Le Corbusier’s unrealized Plan Voisin.

“Yes?” I say, raising an eyebrow.  

“They disagreed and got quite upset!”

“Okay… and… what do you think about it now?”

“First, I still agree with you.  I think Perrault was looking at Plan Voisin while designing the BNF.”

“And second?”

“…And Second, if an argument makes people that upset, then it means that it encapsulates a seed of the truth…”  She takes another bite of her fish. 

The Houghton Gallery, Cooper Union,  2011

We are constructing The End Of the Year Showat Cooper Union; the time of year that always makes the faculty sweat.  I walk out of the gallery into Room 215 to review a student’s work.  

From the other side of the wall, Diane calls my cell, “Where are you?!”

“I’m smoking a cigar in a jacuzzi,’’ I answer. 

Diane almost faints, “It’s the last day; we REALLY need you!” 

Five minutes later, I enter the room and smile.  She laughs.  

I play the ‘Doors,’ we all dance, Diane included, and for an instant Houghton become a dance floor.

The Studio, Cooper Union, 2015

It is Wednesday afternoon.  Faculty are in the studio working individually with students. The project is comprised of three-dimensional autonomous parts inspired by Henri Matisse: The Cut-Outsat MoMA from which an urban architectural partiis formed. 

The studio is quiet up until a loud theatrical voice rises, “No! Don’t touch it!” 

Everyone turns their head. 

Diane continues, “It’s brilliant… don’t move a thing!” 

Eager to see, the class ceases to work, and gathers around the celebrated scheme.  

Diane rolls in the chalkboard and analyzes the historical and literary context of the work, openly challenging me and the other Professors into a larger seemingly natural debate but entirely orchestrated.  Conjectures, arguments, and insights unfold for the next three hours while fascinated students absorb the heated dialogue and share their thoughts. 

Beth Israel Hospital, Gramercy Park, 2017

“Tell me more about Kiesler and the Dead Sea Scrolls,” Diane asks me. 

The nurse sits a few feet away minding her own business. 

As I begin to describe the battle story written in the ancient scrolls, Diane interrupts me, calling the nurse.  She comes running to check what is wrong.

”Do you know the Dead Sea Scrolls? You must learn about them. You should join us for this one.”

Post Scriptum, Mont Blanc, The Alps, 2017

It’s the seventh day into my climb.  I traverse the rocks, rugged edges, soft snow, cavities, steep vertical planes that meet the clouds and alter my depth perception.  Everything is tactile measured by my body. 

I think about New York and how Diane measured its dimensions and scale through historical forces, art, literature, poetry, music, film, architecture, humanism, and psychoanalysis.  Engulfing herself in the hum of the city, she surrounded herself with a crowd of people coming from all these disciplines to meet, exchange thoughts, enjoy a good meal and challenge each other.

And that was Diane, like New York: unexpected, wild, inquisitive, enthusiastic, controversial at times but always ready to listen to a compelling argument, curious to a fault, a good friend, a beacon of knowledge with a whimsical spark in her eyes…and in the background a soundtrack of JAZZ…

“Draw me some JAZZ.”

Daniel Meridor. New York. July 2017