Design on the High Seas

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SETTING THE SCENE FOR ENTERTAINMENT ARCHITECTURE ABOARD CRUISE SHIPS

—Excerpted from Tiziana Lorenzelli’s book Costa Luminosa, fantasmagorie di luce

DESIGN ON THE HIGH SEAS

Answering the question, What does it mean to fly the Italian flag?, concerning the Costa Luminosa, Pier Luigi Foschi, chairman of the Costa Group, replied: “… As for the interiors the architect, Joseph Farcus, with his rich system of materials, forms, and details, has ironically reprised the complexity of our ancestors’ decorative skills, looking from the outside in at the styles of Italy.”

DESIGN ON THE HIGH SEAS

—Micky Arison, Chairman, Carnival Corporation

JOSEPH FARCUS SETTING THE SCENE FOR ENTERTAINMENT ARCHITECTURE ABOARD CRUISE SHIPS

I always felt Joe’s design work was good for the Carnival brand. It truly set us apart from what everyone else in the cruise industry was doing.

Other cruise lines were basically building the same ship. Joe’s concepts for Carnival were entertaining and whimsical and he ultimately ended up coining the phrase ‘Entertainment Architecture’ to describe his unique style of design. His one-of-a-kind talent and distinctive designs became an integral part of the ‘Fun Ship’ vacation experience we were providing to consumers in the 1980s and 90s, the period during which Carnival rose to become the world’s largest cruise line.

20/08/2018 1:23 PM

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FOREWORD

by Micky Arison, Chairman, Carnival Corporation

In 1975, my father Ted Arison, who had founded Carnival Cruise Lines a few years earlier, acquired the company’s second ship, an old transatlantic liner we re-named the Carnivale. At the time, Morris Lapidus was the most well-known and respected hotel architect in South Florida, and Ted hired his firm to handle the interior renovation of the Carnivale. The project was a small and low budget and Morris assigned a young employee named Joe Farcus to handle the job. Fifty ships and 40 years later, the relationship between Joe Farcus and Carnival Corporation continues to endure.

Early in his career, Joe branched out on his own and over the past four decades he has been instrumental in the creation of more cruise ships than anyone in the history of modern passenger shipping. There is no individual who has had a more profound impact on cruise ship design.

Joe’s work with Carnival Cruise Lines differentiated the Carnival brand. You could argue that his choice of color and patterns and that his design style was unorthodox, but nobody can argue that Joe’s work made an impression. People talked about Carnival’s ships— often with fascination and praise and other times questioning the direction we were taking—but Joe’s designs allowed us to separate the Carnival brand from all others in a highly memorable and impactful way.

Joe is an artist. Much of his design work is hand drawn with pencil and paper. He has an uncanny sense of vision, which isn’t always easily understood in early stages of his work. There were times when I would visit a shipyard when a vessel was half finished and I’d be standing there looking at some giant purple element or other figment from Joe’s imagination and it would

mortify me. I’d call Joe and he would say, “Trust me, you’ll like what you see when it’s all done.” Nine times out of ten he was right. With rare exception, things that you never imagined working together, would work in the end.

I always felt Joe’s design work was good for the Carnival brand. It truly set us apart from what everyone else in the cruise industry was doing. Other cruise lines were basically building the same ship. Joe’s concepts for Carnival were entertaining and whimsical and he ultimately ended up coining the phrase ‘Entertainment Architecture’ to describe his unique style of design. His one-of-kind talent and distinctive designs became an integral part of the ‘Fun Ship’ vacation experience we were providing to consumers in the 1980s and 90s, the period during which Carnival rose to become the world’s largest cruise line.

In addition to 29 Carnival Cruise Lines ships, Joe has been involved in interior design and architectural work on a number of other ships under the Carnival Corporation umbrella, including vessels from Holland America Line, Costa Cruises and Cunard. Although his work has varied significantly from ship to ship and is tailored to the overarching style of each cruise brand, there is one constant in Joe’s designs—an underlying desire to create something original. Works that can’t be found in any magazine. Stuff that nobody else is doing.

Joe is an architect by training—a highly intuitive, skilled and creative architect. He chose to expand into interior design a few years into his work with Carnival.

His skills in marine architecture were integral in contributing to the general arrangement and layout of a number of ships. I’ve used him as a consultant in so

many ways. He understands passenger flow and has on many occasions been instrumental in helping to resolve design challenges.

One of Joe’s architectural designs that will forever hold a place in cruise industry history is his creation of the winged funnel that sits atop Carnival Cruise Lines’ ships and serves as those vessels’ smokestack. It was back in the early 1980s and we were in the midst of our first new ship construction project. We had contracted with an outside naval architectural firm to help us concept a new design for the ship’s smokestack.

Joe presented his winged funnel idea to my father Ted. I was the President of Carnival at the time and Bob Dickinson, who would eventually become the brand’s President, was our Vice-President of Sales. Not only were the naval architects skeptical of Joe’s design, but Bob and I were adamantly opposed to it, as well. We felt it was important to have a consistent look for the fleet (there were three Carnival ships in service at the time—all renovated transatlantic liners with traditional smokestack designs). Ted insisted we were focused on the past and failing to see the future.

We finally agreed to conduct a wind tunnel test and see which smokestack design fared better aerodynamically— Joe’s or a traditional design. It turned out that Joe’s stack was hands-down the better design. Not only was it extremely effective at directing the exhaust smoke to the sides and back of the ship, but it eventually became the single-most iconic symbol of the Carnival brand. Carnival’s ships are the most recognizable in the cruise industry because of those giant red, white, and blue winged funnels and today the funnel is the company’s logo. It turned out to be one of the best arguments I ever lost.

From the Big Easy Piano Bar on Carnival Triumph, whose walls are lined with oyster shells left over from patrons at New Orleans’ famed Acme Oyster House, to the stunning and classic Caffe Florian on Costa Atlantica, inspired by the beloved spot of the same name in Venice, Italy, Joe’s work is inspiring, extraordinary, and original—much like the man himself—who will forever hold a one-of-a-kind place in cruise industry history.

7

FOREWORD

by Micky Arison, Chairman, Carnival Corporation

In 1975, my father Ted Arison, who had founded Carnival Cruise Lines a few years earlier, acquired the company’s second ship, an old transatlantic liner we re-named the Carnivale. At the time, Morris Lapidus was the most well-known and respected hotel architect in South Florida, and Ted hired his firm to handle the interior renovation of the Carnivale. The project was a small and low budget and Morris assigned a young employee named Joe Farcus to handle the job. Fifty ships and 40 years later, the relationship between Joe Farcus and Carnival Corporation continues to endure.

Early in his career, Joe branched out on his own and over the past four decades he has been instrumental in the creation of more cruise ships than anyone in the history of modern passenger shipping. There is no individual who has had a more profound impact on cruise ship design.

Joe’s work with Carnival Cruise Lines differentiated the Carnival brand. You could argue that his choice of color and patterns and that his design style was unorthodox, but nobody can argue that Joe’s work made an impression. People talked about Carnival’s ships— often with fascination and praise and other times questioning the direction we were taking—but Joe’s designs allowed us to separate the Carnival brand from all others in a highly memorable and impactful way.

Joe is an artist. Much of his design work is hand drawn with pencil and paper. He has an uncanny sense of vision, which isn’t always easily understood in early stages of his work. There were times when I would visit a shipyard when a vessel was half finished and I’d be standing there looking at some giant purple element or other figment from Joe’s imagination and it would

mortify me. I’d call Joe and he would say, “Trust me, you’ll like what you see when it’s all done.” Nine times out of ten he was right. With rare exception, things that you never imagined working together, would work in the end.

I always felt Joe’s design work was good for the Carnival brand. It truly set us apart from what everyone else in the cruise industry was doing. Other cruise lines were basically building the same ship. Joe’s concepts for Carnival were entertaining and whimsical and he ultimately ended up coining the phrase ‘Entertainment Architecture’ to describe his unique style of design. His one-of-kind talent and distinctive designs became an integral part of the ‘Fun Ship’ vacation experience we were providing to consumers in the 1980s and 90s, the period during which Carnival rose to become the world’s largest cruise line.

In addition to 29 Carnival Cruise Lines ships, Joe has been involved in interior design and architectural work on a number of other ships under the Carnival Corporation umbrella, including vessels from Holland America Line, Costa Cruises and Cunard. Although his work has varied significantly from ship to ship and is tailored to the overarching style of each cruise brand, there is one constant in Joe’s designs—an underlying desire to create something original. Works that can’t be found in any magazine. Stuff that nobody else is doing.

Joe is an architect by training—a highly intuitive, skilled and creative architect. He chose to expand into interior design a few years into his work with Carnival.

His skills in marine architecture were integral in contributing to the general arrangement and layout of a number of ships. I’ve used him as a consultant in so

many ways. He understands passenger flow and has on many occasions been instrumental in helping to resolve design challenges.

One of Joe’s architectural designs that will forever hold a place in cruise industry history is his creation of the winged funnel that sits atop Carnival Cruise Lines’ ships and serves as those vessels’ smokestack. It was back in the early 1980s and we were in the midst of our first new ship construction project. We had contracted with an outside naval architectural firm to help us concept a new design for the ship’s smokestack.

Joe presented his winged funnel idea to my father Ted. I was the President of Carnival at the time and Bob Dickinson, who would eventually become the brand’s President, was our Vice-President of Sales. Not only were the naval architects skeptical of Joe’s design, but Bob and I were adamantly opposed to it, as well. We felt it was important to have a consistent look for the fleet (there were three Carnival ships in service at the time—all renovated transatlantic liners with traditional smokestack designs). Ted insisted we were focused on the past and failing to see the future.

We finally agreed to conduct a wind tunnel test and see which smokestack design fared better aerodynamically— Joe’s or a traditional design. It turned out that Joe’s stack was hands-down the better design. Not only was it extremely effective at directing the exhaust smoke to the sides and back of the ship, but it eventually became the single-most iconic symbol of the Carnival brand. Carnival’s ships are the most recognizable in the cruise industry because of those giant red, white, and blue winged funnels and today the funnel is the company’s logo. It turned out to be one of the best arguments I ever lost.

From the Big Easy Piano Bar on Carnival Triumph, whose walls are lined with oyster shells left over from patrons at New Orleans’ famed Acme Oyster House, to the stunning and classic Caffe Florian on Costa Atlantica, inspired by the beloved spot of the same name in Venice, Italy, Joe’s work is inspiring, extraordinary, and original—much like the man himself—who will forever hold a one-of-a-kind place in cruise industry history.

9

PROLOGUE

“Who so would be a man must be a nonconformist.”

–Ralph Waldo Emerson, Self-Reliance and Other Essays

The following story outlines my amazing architectural journey from land to sea and details the experiences, lessons, and the whys and wherefores that evolved into my own style that I named Entertainment Architecture. It was not the easy road to travel and required some very good luck. It also required diligent work and unrelenting attention to detail. Patience and self-confidence were also key ingredients. But above of all it required a vision. A vision of what an environment should be to evoke the experience desired for the users. I have this vision and was able to convince my clients to sign on to

it and to cajole those whom were entrusted to build it to do so. It wasn’t always perfect, but I tried very hard to get it as close to it as humanly possible. The results speak for themselves.

In the early 1960s when I was beginning in college I came across the quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson, at the top of this page. Its straightforward principle struck home. In other words it stuck and stuck big time. I recall feeling that if this century-old genius and giant of literature could say something so profound to me

then its resonance was undeniable. It also told me that if you wish to be an artist then any meaning in that vocation must include its adoption.

It was appealing to me because it was an attitude and not a didactic rule, which could be interpreted in a personal way. You didn’t have to wear outlandish clothes or make bizarre expressions to be an Emersonian nonconformist. Rather you had to be your own person in making your choices in art or in life in general. As an architect I could see that learning and experience was the palette from which to mix my own colors to create my own expressions to solve the architectural design problems I would face in my professional life. This was a solid foundation to creativity founded in talent.

As I studied, this concept of me being an extension of history grew and matured. It all led to the big question I asked myself. How could I add to the effect the world of design in an honest, relevant, and meaningful way?

Emerson’s little gem of wisdom gave me the answer.

What didn’t exist in history and in past creations was in me and if I dug deeply into my being that I would find my own expression that was exclusive to me. It would be honest and exclusive. Why try to be Frank Lloyd Wright or some other giant of architecture? I realized that was a non-starter for me. The only truism I possessed or would ever possess was me and whatever talent and creativity that could emanate from those qualities. I relaxed. My big question was answered by this 19th-century essayist. I was on my way and had some vision of the direction.

That direction was not easy as there is a strong force pushing against this concept. It’s an eroding one, which to me can be an overwhelming burden. Society

Carnival Valor: inaugural arrival sailing through Government Cut to the Port of Miami.

itself contains a strong force of uniformity and/or conformity. Call it dogma. Call it universality or call it for what I believe is its true nature: the so called ‘right answer.’ It’s the antithesis of creativity. Worst of all it’s too easy and does not result in evolution that gives vitality to civilization. Yet society celebrates and honors new ideas and expressions when it connects with them. This is a real conundrum and hard to reconcile as a designer. But my life has demonstrated to me that reconciliation is possible. What’s more, my experience also tells me that it can and should be good business.

Educated, and with some experience, as well as being armed with my own and Emerson’s wisdom, I set out on my career. I was no White Knight or Don Quixote, as I had a living to make. However, I kept myself as honest as possible with my ideals and then had the great fortune to meet my Medici, Ted Arison. He trusted me and let me be myself as his designer and guardian of his business and his money. For over 40 years with him and continuing with his son Micky Arison, I designed about fifty cruise ships and a few buildings following my own drummer. The results were profit and dynamic growth for both Carnival and the Arisons. The proof of this pudding is the huge success of Carnival Cruise Lines, which evolved and grew into a leisure industry powerhouse. But more importantly to me is well expressed in a line from Shakespeare in Hamlet, when Polonius admonishes his son Laertes. “Above all: To thine own self be true…” I was, and as a result for the most part, millions of people have had memorable, enjoyable, and meaningful experiences aboard my work. Carnival’s ‘Fun Ships’ were, as promised in their slogan, fun! Those people got their money’s worth and enjoyed being in my creations that made them the stars of Entertainment Architecture.

9

PROLOGUE

“Who so would be a man must be a nonconformist.”

–Ralph Waldo Emerson, Self-Reliance and Other Essays

The following story outlines my amazing architectural journey from land to sea and details the experiences, lessons, and the whys and wherefores that evolved into my own style that I named Entertainment Architecture. It was not the easy road to travel and required some very good luck. It also required diligent work and unrelenting attention to detail. Patience and self-confidence were also key ingredients. But above of all it required a vision. A vision of what an environment should be to evoke the experience desired for the users. I have this vision and was able to convince my clients to sign on to

it and to cajole those whom were entrusted to build it to do so. It wasn’t always perfect, but I tried very hard to get it as close to it as humanly possible. The results speak for themselves.

In the early 1960s when I was beginning in college I came across the quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson, at the top of this page. Its straightforward principle struck home. In other words it stuck and stuck big time. I recall feeling that if this century-old genius and giant of literature could say something so profound to me

then its resonance was undeniable. It also told me that if you wish to be an artist then any meaning in that vocation must include its adoption.

It was appealing to me because it was an attitude and not a didactic rule, which could be interpreted in a personal way. You didn’t have to wear outlandish clothes or make bizarre expressions to be an Emersonian nonconformist. Rather you had to be your own person in making your choices in art or in life in general. As an architect I could see that learning and experience was the palette from which to mix my own colors to create my own expressions to solve the architectural design problems I would face in my professional life. This was a solid foundation to creativity founded in talent.

As I studied, this concept of me being an extension of history grew and matured. It all led to the big question I asked myself. How could I add to the effect the world of design in an honest, relevant, and meaningful way?

Emerson’s little gem of wisdom gave me the answer.

What didn’t exist in history and in past creations was in me and if I dug deeply into my being that I would find my own expression that was exclusive to me. It would be honest and exclusive. Why try to be Frank Lloyd Wright or some other giant of architecture? I realized that was a non-starter for me. The only truism I possessed or would ever possess was me and whatever talent and creativity that could emanate from those qualities. I relaxed. My big question was answered by this 19th-century essayist. I was on my way and had some vision of the direction.

That direction was not easy as there is a strong force pushing against this concept. It’s an eroding one, which to me can be an overwhelming burden. Society

Carnival Valor: inaugural arrival sailing through Government Cut to the Port of Miami.

itself contains a strong force of uniformity and/or conformity. Call it dogma. Call it universality or call it for what I believe is its true nature: the so called ‘right answer.’ It’s the antithesis of creativity. Worst of all it’s too easy and does not result in evolution that gives vitality to civilization. Yet society celebrates and honors new ideas and expressions when it connects with them. This is a real conundrum and hard to reconcile as a designer. But my life has demonstrated to me that reconciliation is possible. What’s more, my experience also tells me that it can and should be good business.

Educated, and with some experience, as well as being armed with my own and Emerson’s wisdom, I set out on my career. I was no White Knight or Don Quixote, as I had a living to make. However, I kept myself as honest as possible with my ideals and then had the great fortune to meet my Medici, Ted Arison. He trusted me and let me be myself as his designer and guardian of his business and his money. For over 40 years with him and continuing with his son Micky Arison, I designed about fifty cruise ships and a few buildings following my own drummer. The results were profit and dynamic growth for both Carnival and the Arisons. The proof of this pudding is the huge success of Carnival Cruise Lines, which evolved and grew into a leisure industry powerhouse. But more importantly to me is well expressed in a line from Shakespeare in Hamlet, when Polonius admonishes his son Laertes. “Above all: To thine own self be true…” I was, and as a result for the most part, millions of people have had memorable, enjoyable, and meaningful experiences aboard my work. Carnival’s ‘Fun Ships’ were, as promised in their slogan, fun! Those people got their money’s worth and enjoyed being in my creations that made them the stars of Entertainment Architecture.

10

D E SI G N O N THE HI G H SE A S | AC T I: SE T TIN G THE S TAG E

SCENE I: MIAMIÂ BEACH: GROWING UP IN A TOURIST TOWN

ACT I

SETTING THE STAGE

COSTA DELIZIOSA: MAIN THEATER

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D E SI G N O N THE HI G H SE A S | AC T I: SE T TIN G THE S TAG E

SCENE I: MIAMIÂ BEACH: GROWING UP IN A TOURIST TOWN

ACT I

SETTING THE STAGE

COSTA DELIZIOSA: MAIN THEATER

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Carnival Imagination: Atrium/Lobby

D E SI G N O N THE HI G H SE A S | AC T I: SE T TIN G THE S TAG E

SCENE I: MIAMI BEACH: GROWING UP IN A TOURIST TOWN

SCENE I

MIAMI BEACH GROWING UP IN A TOURIST TOWN

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Carnival Imagination: Atrium/Lobby

D E SI G N O N THE HI G H SE A S | AC T I: SE T TIN G THE S TAG E

SCENE I: MIAMI BEACH: GROWING UP IN A TOURIST TOWN

SCENE I

MIAMI BEACH GROWING UP IN A TOURIST TOWN

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SCENE I: MIAMI BEACH: GROWING UP IN A TOURIST TOWN

I was born an architect.

Apologies to Charles Dickens, as this notion struck me several years ago during a retrospective moment. My earliest recollections include a keen awareness of order and design. Graphics appealed to me. Houses appealed to me.

Construction was fascinating. They all created feelings in me that I have always understood, responded to, and just enjoyed.

I loved to draw too. No one taught me or cajoled me to do so.

It was just in me. I was compelled to do it and to please myself with the results. Appreciation and recognition by others was also important. This quality gave me a physical and emotional outlet for my innate creative force as well. It gave me the possibility to make a world that I wanted to see. While most kids would read or play to escape to some exciting and wonderful place, I would draw my fantasy and escape. This method was limitless and, most importantly as a child, I was the driving force behind it. If I wanted airplanes, I could draw as many as I wanted and do just about anything I wanted them to do. I began to really look at the world because the more I saw, the more I could draw. This is a kind of vision that goes beyond just what the eyes sees. Drawing of course is a talent, but also it’s a skill that observation and practice enhance. It’s the tool of creativity. Drawing put me on my professional pathway, which I did not realize at the time.

I lived the first almost nine years of my life in the western Pennsylvania steel town of McKeesport. Winters there brought snow and when it did I built snowmen. Okay, every kid builds snowmen when it snows, but for me it was a creative outlet. One of my design principles to this day was formed at that time: never build the same design twice. Keep it new and fresh. A snow man is pretty basic: some snow, a carrot, some lumps of coal, a couple of branches, a scarf, and if you’re real lucky a top hat. But apart from the decorative details, construction was the challenge for a small guy. Planning was important. The size of the bottom ball of the snowman had to be controlled so that the next ball could be picked up and lifted on the base. Bigger seemed better to me as a design philosophy, but I learned there were practical limits to this

Costa Deliziosa: DISCO

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D E SI G N O N THE HI G H SE A S | AC T I: SE T TIN G THE S TAG E

SCENE I: MIAMI BEACH: GROWING UP IN A TOURIST TOWN

I was born an architect.

Apologies to Charles Dickens, as this notion struck me several years ago during a retrospective moment. My earliest recollections include a keen awareness of order and design. Graphics appealed to me. Houses appealed to me.

Construction was fascinating. They all created feelings in me that I have always understood, responded to, and just enjoyed.

I loved to draw too. No one taught me or cajoled me to do so.

It was just in me. I was compelled to do it and to please myself with the results. Appreciation and recognition by others was also important. This quality gave me a physical and emotional outlet for my innate creative force as well. It gave me the possibility to make a world that I wanted to see. While most kids would read or play to escape to some exciting and wonderful place, I would draw my fantasy and escape. This method was limitless and, most importantly as a child, I was the driving force behind it. If I wanted airplanes, I could draw as many as I wanted and do just about anything I wanted them to do. I began to really look at the world because the more I saw, the more I could draw. This is a kind of vision that goes beyond just what the eyes sees. Drawing of course is a talent, but also it’s a skill that observation and practice enhance. It’s the tool of creativity. Drawing put me on my professional pathway, which I did not realize at the time.

I lived the first almost nine years of my life in the western Pennsylvania steel town of McKeesport. Winters there brought snow and when it did I built snowmen. Okay, every kid builds snowmen when it snows, but for me it was a creative outlet. One of my design principles to this day was formed at that time: never build the same design twice. Keep it new and fresh. A snow man is pretty basic: some snow, a carrot, some lumps of coal, a couple of branches, a scarf, and if you’re real lucky a top hat. But apart from the decorative details, construction was the challenge for a small guy. Planning was important. The size of the bottom ball of the snowman had to be controlled so that the next ball could be picked up and lifted on the base. Bigger seemed better to me as a design philosophy, but I learned there were practical limits to this

Costa Deliziosa: DISCO

15

16

D E SI G N O N THE HI G H SE A S | AC T I: SE T TIN G THE S TAG E

SCENE I: MIAMI BEACH: GROWING UP IN A TOURIST TOWN

based on my strength, snow cohesiveness, and my height.

This understanding was the beginnings of a construction management mentality, which is necessary for an architect to internalize, and it began for me in my snow-filled backyard.

My dad was a skilled builder. Not professionally, but intuitively. One of the luckiest and meaningful events in my early life was a new bedroom. Not mine, but my parents’. My parents converted the top floor of our three-story house into an apartment, which required another bedroom to be built on top of the garage. My dad did most of the work himself, which added to the appeal for me. As I was too young for school (no kindergarten for me) and my dad went to work daily at his gas station, the construction site was a huge playground for me.

When he was working on the room I could watch and get in his way, which I did a lot.

I loved the wood and the nails, the hammers and saws, and most of all the construction itself. I could see how the tools were used and appreciated their meaning in construction.

The work was manually done and a result, my recognition and appreciation of the craft began to grow. I loved to go into this raw room and just feel it. The smell of the new wood filled my nostrils in a most pleasant way. The studs standing like orderly soldiers just delighted me and made so much sense. This cohesive logic spoke to me. The smooth and level new flooring made me smile with wonder. The sculptural quality of the nails was appealing. The fact that there were different sizes and shapes of them showed me their functionality as well as their aesthetic. Then came the plastering and painting. Glorious work and smells. And then it was finished. Furniture and then people moved in and the magic was revealed to me. The point of architecture was this, and the new breath of life that takes a project to reality was the magic. I got the point, or maybe the point got me.

I would build too. Not with manly tools, but rather with my mother’s tin cans from the pantry. To her chagrin I’m sure I would pull out every can I could reach and begin building.

Stacks of cans became urban complexes or maybe castles or maybe just compositions that pleased me. Engineering fundamentals also came into play. I quickly learned that

Costa favolosa: club RESTAURANT

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D E SI G N O N THE HI G H SE A S | AC T I: SE T TIN G THE S TAG E

SCENE I: MIAMI BEACH: GROWING UP IN A TOURIST TOWN

based on my strength, snow cohesiveness, and my height.

This understanding was the beginnings of a construction management mentality, which is necessary for an architect to internalize, and it began for me in my snow-filled backyard.

My dad was a skilled builder. Not professionally, but intuitively. One of the luckiest and meaningful events in my early life was a new bedroom. Not mine, but my parents’. My parents converted the top floor of our three-story house into an apartment, which required another bedroom to be built on top of the garage. My dad did most of the work himself, which added to the appeal for me. As I was too young for school (no kindergarten for me) and my dad went to work daily at his gas station, the construction site was a huge playground for me.

When he was working on the room I could watch and get in his way, which I did a lot.

I loved the wood and the nails, the hammers and saws, and most of all the construction itself. I could see how the tools were used and appreciated their meaning in construction.

The work was manually done and a result, my recognition and appreciation of the craft began to grow. I loved to go into this raw room and just feel it. The smell of the new wood filled my nostrils in a most pleasant way. The studs standing like orderly soldiers just delighted me and made so much sense. This cohesive logic spoke to me. The smooth and level new flooring made me smile with wonder. The sculptural quality of the nails was appealing. The fact that there were different sizes and shapes of them showed me their functionality as well as their aesthetic. Then came the plastering and painting. Glorious work and smells. And then it was finished. Furniture and then people moved in and the magic was revealed to me. The point of architecture was this, and the new breath of life that takes a project to reality was the magic. I got the point, or maybe the point got me.

I would build too. Not with manly tools, but rather with my mother’s tin cans from the pantry. To her chagrin I’m sure I would pull out every can I could reach and begin building.

Stacks of cans became urban complexes or maybe castles or maybe just compositions that pleased me. Engineering fundamentals also came into play. I quickly learned that

Costa favolosa: club RESTAURANT

17

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D E SI G N O N THE HI G H SE A S | AC T II: THE CURTA IN GO E S UP : THE SHIP A S “CIT Y AT SE A”

the main lounge or theater which did not exist at all. The restaurant had to remain in its present position due to its connection with the galley. The theater would require new superstructure. As the day ended these decisions were made in principle, but needed to be verified by fleshed-out designs.

So I seized the moment. I said, “Let me take the ship’s drawings home and I will work on some designs.” Everyone agreed so I rolled up the drawings and went home to my garage studio.

Garage studio is a real stretch as in reality it was a garage with a drawing board in it. I designed both the main lounge and the restaurant and produced the floor plan, furniture layouts, and perspective renderings during the all-nighter.

In the morning I rolled up my work, jumped in my car, and returned to the meeting. Then I unrolled my drawings and presented it to the group. Everyone there thought it looked good. Most importantly Ted did as well. However, there were no guarantees, which Ted had made perfectly clear to me. I left hopeful though. What I didn’t know was that these designs created by bleary eyes would ultimately be built, and half-way around the world in Japan.

SCENE 3: MIAMI BEACH, GREECE, & MONTE CARLO: MORRIS L APIDUS AND ON TO TED ARISON

The vacation came to an end and I returned to Miami.

I phoned Ted with a cursory report on what I had seen in Southampton. I assured him of the feasibility and potential I saw in this ship. It was all positive from my side. I went back to Lapidus and waited for the phone to ring so to speak.

Turns out I didn’t have to wait too long as after a few weeks the phone did ring! Ted called and said that the ship purchase had been finalized and that he had decided to give me the job. He informed me that I should be ready with designs and specifications so that I could meet with shipyards in his office in Monte Carlo, Monaco, in about six weeks! It seemed impossible, which was a thought I kept to myself. My career for the next 40 odd years had dramatically changed course.

Best of all I knew I could with some comfort quit my job and open my own office. It was a dream come true.

Following these two days I returned to my job at Lapidus and shortly after that I took a holiday in Europe. I let Ted know I was going to be in the UK and that I would volunteer to see the S.A. Vaal when it was in Southampton. I remember my first impressions. She was very large compared to the two Carnival ships and, well, she looked the part somehow. Her size and lines gave her a majestic look from the outside.

The spaces of the public rooms were unremarkable. The decoration was old British tea parlor style. The cabins were blandly detailed, but otherwise laid out well. There was a lounge, which was quite tatty because it had to be deconstructed in port to access a cargo hatch. She was a blank slate to me and by virtue of her size and existing layout was quite ready to be developed into a great cruise ship. Anyway, after the visit onboard I allowed myself to feel encouraged and actually began to picture myself as a cruise ship architect.

carnival miracle: metropolis atrium

103

102

D E SI G N O N THE HI G H SE A S | AC T II: THE CURTA IN GO E S UP : THE SHIP A S “CIT Y AT SE A”

the main lounge or theater which did not exist at all. The restaurant had to remain in its present position due to its connection with the galley. The theater would require new superstructure. As the day ended these decisions were made in principle, but needed to be verified by fleshed-out designs.

So I seized the moment. I said, “Let me take the ship’s drawings home and I will work on some designs.” Everyone agreed so I rolled up the drawings and went home to my garage studio.

Garage studio is a real stretch as in reality it was a garage with a drawing board in it. I designed both the main lounge and the restaurant and produced the floor plan, furniture layouts, and perspective renderings during the all-nighter.

In the morning I rolled up my work, jumped in my car, and returned to the meeting. Then I unrolled my drawings and presented it to the group. Everyone there thought it looked good. Most importantly Ted did as well. However, there were no guarantees, which Ted had made perfectly clear to me. I left hopeful though. What I didn’t know was that these designs created by bleary eyes would ultimately be built, and half-way around the world in Japan.

SCENE 3: MIAMI BEACH, GREECE, & MONTE CARLO: MORRIS L APIDUS AND ON TO TED ARISON

The vacation came to an end and I returned to Miami.

I phoned Ted with a cursory report on what I had seen in Southampton. I assured him of the feasibility and potential I saw in this ship. It was all positive from my side. I went back to Lapidus and waited for the phone to ring so to speak.

Turns out I didn’t have to wait too long as after a few weeks the phone did ring! Ted called and said that the ship purchase had been finalized and that he had decided to give me the job. He informed me that I should be ready with designs and specifications so that I could meet with shipyards in his office in Monte Carlo, Monaco, in about six weeks! It seemed impossible, which was a thought I kept to myself. My career for the next 40 odd years had dramatically changed course.

Best of all I knew I could with some comfort quit my job and open my own office. It was a dream come true.

Following these two days I returned to my job at Lapidus and shortly after that I took a holiday in Europe. I let Ted know I was going to be in the UK and that I would volunteer to see the S.A. Vaal when it was in Southampton. I remember my first impressions. She was very large compared to the two Carnival ships and, well, she looked the part somehow. Her size and lines gave her a majestic look from the outside.

The spaces of the public rooms were unremarkable. The decoration was old British tea parlor style. The cabins were blandly detailed, but otherwise laid out well. There was a lounge, which was quite tatty because it had to be deconstructed in port to access a cargo hatch. She was a blank slate to me and by virtue of her size and existing layout was quite ready to be developed into a great cruise ship. Anyway, after the visit onboard I allowed myself to feel encouraged and actually began to picture myself as a cruise ship architect.

carnival miracle: metropolis atrium

103

106

D E SI G N O N THE HI G H SE A S | AC T II: THE CURTA IN GO E S UP : THE SHIP A S “CIT Y AT SE A”

SCENE 3: MIAMI BEACH, GREECE, & MONTE CARLO: MORRIS L APIDUS AND ON TO TED ARISON

It was a great challenge and there was no experience to count on to back me up. I was now flying my first solo flight without time to dilly-dally. There was a plane waiting for me and my baggage had to include the designs.

To create the designs I think about what I want the users of the design to experience. Then I let that motivation be the inspiration to move my hand to begin creating lines on the intimidating blank sheet. First shapes begin to appear. As they do I begin evaluating them. When they do not feel right I erase them and continue until they do. When the evaluation is positive, elaboration begins to form architectural sections and details. This process continues until the blank piece of paper metamorphoses into an architectural drawing. And this is why I feel that art is the root of design. The initial process begins with an artistic creation which is then transformed into architectural terms. More about that later.

I drew until I boarded the plane to France and continued drawing until I went to the first meeting in Ted’s office. By that time I had completed all of the necessary designs, albeit in sketch form. I had shown none of the designs to Ted before and basically he saw them when we began meeting with the shipyards. I’m not even sure how much he could understand from my sketches. But somehow he had the trust that I knew what I was doing and that whatever I had prepared in way of design and specs would be enough to make a deal with a shipyard to actually rebuild the ship. It was true faith. He was betting all of his chips on me and I was astounded. But I would learn that’s who he was. Our years together proved this time and again.

First we met with a French shipyard and then an Italian one.

We in a way had to sell ourselves to them. After all, who was the American ship architect with no reputation and probably no experience? Who was the ship owner Ted Arison? Furthermore, who were Carnival Cruise Lines? A company that had two old ships and no financial track record. Their balance sheet was not impressive. Complicating this further was the fact that the shipyard had to provide construction and permanent financing.

I didn’t think we made any headway with them.

Costa Atlantica: Atrium/Lobby

JFA M.S. Carnival Fantasy concept drawing of Library.

107

106

D E SI G N O N THE HI G H SE A S | AC T II: THE CURTA IN GO E S UP : THE SHIP A S “CIT Y AT SE A”

SCENE 3: MIAMI BEACH, GREECE, & MONTE CARLO: MORRIS L APIDUS AND ON TO TED ARISON

It was a great challenge and there was no experience to count on to back me up. I was now flying my first solo flight without time to dilly-dally. There was a plane waiting for me and my baggage had to include the designs.

To create the designs I think about what I want the users of the design to experience. Then I let that motivation be the inspiration to move my hand to begin creating lines on the intimidating blank sheet. First shapes begin to appear. As they do I begin evaluating them. When they do not feel right I erase them and continue until they do. When the evaluation is positive, elaboration begins to form architectural sections and details. This process continues until the blank piece of paper metamorphoses into an architectural drawing. And this is why I feel that art is the root of design. The initial process begins with an artistic creation which is then transformed into architectural terms. More about that later.

I drew until I boarded the plane to France and continued drawing until I went to the first meeting in Ted’s office. By that time I had completed all of the necessary designs, albeit in sketch form. I had shown none of the designs to Ted before and basically he saw them when we began meeting with the shipyards. I’m not even sure how much he could understand from my sketches. But somehow he had the trust that I knew what I was doing and that whatever I had prepared in way of design and specs would be enough to make a deal with a shipyard to actually rebuild the ship. It was true faith. He was betting all of his chips on me and I was astounded. But I would learn that’s who he was. Our years together proved this time and again.

First we met with a French shipyard and then an Italian one.

We in a way had to sell ourselves to them. After all, who was the American ship architect with no reputation and probably no experience? Who was the ship owner Ted Arison? Furthermore, who were Carnival Cruise Lines? A company that had two old ships and no financial track record. Their balance sheet was not impressive. Complicating this further was the fact that the shipyard had to provide construction and permanent financing.

I didn’t think we made any headway with them.

Costa Atlantica: Atrium/Lobby

JFA M.S. Carnival Fantasy concept drawing of Library.

107

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Design on the High Seas_Case.indd All Pages

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SETTING THE SCENE FOR ENTERTAINMENT ARCHITECTURE ABOARD CRUISE SHIPS

—Excerpted from Tiziana Lorenzelli’s book Costa Luminosa, fantasmagorie di luce

DESIGN ON THE HIGH SEAS

Answering the question, What does it mean to fly the Italian flag?, concerning the Costa Luminosa, Pier Luigi Foschi, chairman of the Costa Group, replied: “… As for the interiors the architect, Joseph Farcus, with his rich system of materials, forms, and details, has ironically reprised the complexity of our ancestors’ decorative skills, looking from the outside in at the styles of Italy.”

DESIGN ON THE HIGH SEAS

—Micky Arison, Chairman, Carnival Corporation

JOSEPH FARCUS SETTING THE SCENE FOR ENTERTAINMENT ARCHITECTURE ABOARD CRUISE SHIPS

I always felt Joe’s design work was good for the Carnival brand. It truly set us apart from what everyone else in the cruise industry was doing.

Other cruise lines were basically building the same ship. Joe’s concepts for Carnival were entertaining and whimsical and he ultimately ended up coining the phrase ‘Entertainment Architecture’ to describe his unique style of design. His one-of-a-kind talent and distinctive designs became an integral part of the ‘Fun Ship’ vacation experience we were providing to consumers in the 1980s and 90s, the period during which Carnival rose to become the world’s largest cruise line.

20/08/2018 1:23 PM