I often find myself bicycling and running by the same buildings in my community over and over again (the world within sensible foot travel is only so large, after all), so often so that sometimes I fail to recognize and appreciate them. Other buildings, on the other hand, always seem to evoke a mental note or consideration, either due to their architecture or a previous personal experience there.
One such building, with some rather unique architectural features, that while passiong I always have a similar connection is the Strong National Museum of Play, located in downtown Rochester, New York.
Like any piece of "art" (music, paintings, architecture... anything!) ones interpretation of that "thing" is the shaped by personal experiences. Of course this also means that you or I may "see" somethings in a way that the other, without the benefit of shared experience, might have difficulty seeing, too.
Every three or four days, when I find myself passing the museum, I have a rather esoteric thought about what this aspect of the building reminds me of. I think of the giant sand worms of Dune, as originally envisioned by Frank Herbert in his sci-fi classic, Dune. (And subsequently realized, first by David Lynch in his movie and later in two Sci-Fi Channel mini-series.)
Perhaps its because I've read the original series of six novels more than once, but I can't help but thinking that the design of the building is an inside inside joke that only I , the architect and other literary geeks are in on. I've also posted a picture from Lynch's film adaption for comparison. What do you think? Does your experienced allow you to see something different?
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