Alyn Carlson has been fixing up this old Massachussetts church up for 28 years. That worries me for myself – is that how long it takes? Oh god, I hope not; I’m on Year 7. I love her place, though. I’d copy Alyn and hang the ribs of a boat in my place too, if the whole thing didn’t already look like an upside down boat. As you can see here, converting churches doesn’t always work out very well, but I really like this one – in fact this is one of the first ones I’ve really liked. The solution of dividing the space vertically by adding a floor often causes problems because it interfers with windows, but Alyn’s solution of cutting out around the 2-story windows is very clever. And I really like the plywood wall and the firepole. I think one reason this place works is that she has the knack of combining older features with modernist elements – the modern makes the place feel less like a vintage wooden schoolhouse (as I found out myself). Because there’s just something forbidding about living in school – everything becomes homework by definition. Alyn’s also a graphic designer and painter and I really appreciate her permission to reprint these excellent photos, all taken by her boyfriend Paul Clancy.

The term “used future” was coined by George Lucas to describe the less-than-shiny reality of actual space living. The most obvious example of this lived-in future was, of course, Han Solo’s dingy Millennium Falcon quarters. Serenity, the film by Joss Whedon that functions as the concluding episode of his cancelled sci-fi TV series Firefly, is full of this type of spaceship realism. But the spaceship in question, the Serenity, is much more comfortable and a lot less bachelor-y than the Falcon. This may be due to the fact that there are a fair number of women on board. The women may fulfilling traditionally male roles – the ship’s engineer, a trained killing machine and chief military officer – but they have mod style. But what is midcentury modern furniture doing in a spaceship in the year 2517? The ship’s lounge and living areas are definitely midcentury modern or 1960s, including teak furniture, rya rugs, and space-age Italian plastic, all of which are in great shape despite apparently being over 550 years old. Then there’s a country kitchen with mismatched chairs and a big rustic wooden table, mixed with Asian lacquerware and chopsticks. The bedroom of the captain does start to approach something a little Han Solo-ish, but not entirely, because he seems to have been collecting drawings and pottery. It’s strange that in the director’s commentary Whedon talks a lot about the film’s lighting, ship engineering and even costumes, but never once mentions the ship’s decor. If I were the head set decorator I’d probably resent that, because the set is excellent. The only quibble is that more of this furniture would have been strapped down, because the ride on board this ship is generally pretty bumpy. PS Anyone recognize that yellow couch? You can see it more clearly here. One thing’s for certain and that’s that this stuff likely won’t be called “midcentury modern” in the mid-26th Century.

Western European churches, especially those near or in shipping towns, often suspended a model ship from the ceiling as a symbol of good luck for sailors. The practice is probably most common in Denmark, but is fairly widespread. It would be surprising if the current craze for ship chandeliers in decor (see the ship chandeliers in houses at bottom) weren’t related to this tradition. For a whole set of photos of church ships, see here. Photo at top is in Vilnius, Lithuania; second is on the island of Seili, Finland. For photos below, click on photo for information.

Above, Canterbury Cathedral. Directly below (and at very top of post), a crystal ship in the Saints Peter & Paul’s Cathedral in Vilnius; photos by Beny Shlevich. Below that, two examples of the ship chandelier that’s become so popular now. It and others are contemporary, but there are antique versions of it too, usually from the early 1900s.

The two interior design photos above – both of them strangely aristocratic/colonial - are of a house by Jonathan Adler, top, and an apartment styled by designer Lili Diallo, below. The big ships are beautiful, even if there’s always plunder in their wake.

This thing, known as McBarge by Vancouverites, is the hulking remains of a floating McDonalds. It was custom-built for our Expo ‘86 World’s Fair and then carelessly left rusting in the harbour for 23 years as some sort of ghost ship. I hadn’t thought about it until this week when I saw a funny conceptual artwork by Kate Sansom in the current exhibition Science Fiction_01  at Vancouver’s Or Gallery, where the artist has set up an office inside the gallery as a research base for tracking down McBarge’s mysterious current owners and discovering what they ever intend to do with it. This is also how I found a funny web photo essay, at the aptly named wraiths.ca, describing a recent unauthorized reconnaissance  - okay, a break-in – of McBarge’s rundown interior. I remembered this barge as an eyesore, but the thing is, with the golden arches gone and all its red-and-yellow, ketchup-and-mustard colour scheme removed, its design elements aren’t bad. If someone offered it to me, I’d take it. Think what you could do with it! But I have a hankering to see the owner of this thing eternally bound to atone for its careless waste by wandering around telling his/her cautionary tale to unwilling strangers, like the Ancient Mariner. Couldn’t someone have at least donated the use of this thing for some useful purpose? Photos of McBarge above are by Ashley Fisher (unk’s dump truck), Matt Hoekstra (the blurb) and Roger (Rog45) by permission. I took the last photo on Sunday, June 28, 2009.