For my Contemporary Architecture class this semester, every two weeks I write a response to our readings and the topics in class. I've found the assignments interesting, so I'm sharing my writings with you.
Although during childhood I was always envious of my classmates who got to leave our hometown for Disney World—and possibly even skip school to do so—I did not visit it until I was 16 years old. At that point in my life, I wasn't particularly thrilled to make the trip, but I did so as it was seen as a sort of rite of passage in American culture. I have a few memories of experiences upon which to relate postmodern theory and our readings.
Michael Sorkin's “See You in Disneyland” discusses the importance of “getting there” rather than “being there.” I remember traveling by automobile from the airport to the park, feeling the anxiety of being in transit, and seeing a hotel towering out of the Florida treeline. The signs affixed to it said it was only a Sheraton hotel, but it gave me the feeling of awe I expected from the Disney Castle. I wondered who might stay there and if its presence showed that we were in the park or close to the park. That hotel presents an interesting problem of postmodernity. What happens when the real (the ubitquitous Sheraton Hotel) attempts to simulate the experience of the simulation (the Disney Castle)? This problem is further complicated by the fact that people live in a real castle, but no one really lives in the simulation Disney Castle, but then people stay in the hotel conglomerate's simulation of the simulation.
Sorkin notes that Walt Disney became extremely frustrated with the sleazy, unregulated periphery of Disneyland. Is the Sheraton Hotel on Disney property? I remember seeing a “tangle of low commerce” some distance from the park, but with the huge area of the park Disney World has a significant buffer. Isn't the Sheraton Hotel a Disneyfied (clean, neat) version of the area surrounding the original, Disneyland? The inquisitive child in the back seat of the car asks if that big building out the window is Disney, to which the parent replies that it's not, that we're not there yet, and adds that not everyone can stay in the park. Very much like the experience of driving to Disneyland in Los Angeles, but controlled. Add to the confusion the fact that the postmodern hotel where I stayed, the Walt Disney World Swan by architect Michael Graves, is operated by Starwood Hotels Worldwide, who controls the Sheraton brand.
More interested in traveling to foreign countries than to the end of a tunnel, Epcot was my favorite part of Disney World. At the Canadian Pavilion at the World Showcase, I bought a 2004 Canadian Olympic Team sweatshirt. I still wear it, and will never tell that I bought it at Disney rather than in Canada. There have been times when I have lied about its origins and actually had to remind myself afterward that I did not in fact buy it in Canada. Having learned from the readings that these sites are sponsored by the nations represented, I now view them in a new fashion—as the most successful embassies ever devised. Embassies are technically located on the property of the country whose government officials work on the site, but we have to remind ourselves of that fact, it does not come naturally. Through architecture, costume, and other imagery, the public makes a much easier transition from the United States into Canada, Morocco, or China. The actual ownership of the land is insignificant in a consumer-driven, postmodern world. With a corporate-like sponsorship, some images and trinkets, the Canada Pavilion might as well be Canada.
Finally, it is worrying that future urban planners like me have visited Disney's Main Street, USA but never a real 19th century Main Street. I ascribe to the theory of New Urbanism, which embraces many of the characteristics of Disney's Main Street, and this theory will likely play an important role in redeveloping the sprawl-torn America my generation decries. The problem is that because we have never visited the real thing, our instincts are to replicate Disney's idealized simulation. We desire perfection in urban design and many of the built examples (Seaside, FL and Kentlands, MD) are well-removed from urban problems, just like Disney's Main Street. Considering the huge portion of the population who has visited Disney World, the public's expectations of New Urbanism will be no more realistic than the planners' and the architects'. In seeking to throw off the problems of auto-dominated modernism, even by reaching to what is perceived as a stable theory originating in real history, we fall into the postmodern trap.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Rethinking the Office Park
For my Contemporary Architecture class this semester, every two weeks I write a response to our readings and the topics in class. I've found the assignments interesting, so I'm sharing my writings with you.
Every Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday afternoons, en route to Boston’s North Station via the Commuter Rail, I pass by a most dreadfully soulless corporate office park in Cambridge. I wonder who ever decided to call some unadorned brick, concrete and glass structures surrounded by a sea of asphalt in the middle of no place distinctive a “park.” A new T station opened in the 1980s and some companies decided to plop a few mid-rise buildings nearby with little attention to context, the human scale, or any measure of livability. Unfortunately this is the postmodern architecture, in all its blandness and lack of social consciousness. Recently a high-end condominium developer has constructed a dense complex called CambridgePark (what else?), but why would anyone want to live there? Sure, you have access to the T, but only if you’re willing to walk past the monster of a parking garage across the street. The reading in our first two weeks of class that interested me the most was "Architecture and Politics in the Reagan Era: From Postmodernism to Deconstructivism" by Mary McLeod for explaining this architecture.
The link between the politics of the Reagan presidency and the postmodern architecture of the time makes a great deal of sense. The office buildings at CambridgePark have no social vision and aspire to no universal social order other than the 9-to-5 workday of the professional. The McLeod reading points out the spike in commercial property completions in the early eighties, enabled by the deregulation of business in America by Reagan. At the same time, the modernist desire to provide housing for the poor waned, with fewer apartments built under the Section 8 low-income housing program each year from 1982-87. The change in values from social aims to material aims is architecturally evident at CambridgePark as well. Across the Alewife Brook Parkway are the Rindge Towers—high-rise public housing buildings constructed in typical modernist tower-in-a-park fashion. Today buildings like these are plagued with rodents and roaches, but they stand for a noble aim of housing those less fortunate in a decent building with plenty of sunlight and space outdoors.
In the Eighties, architecture was used by corporations for grabbing attention. The office buildings of CambridgePark, while bland now, were probably considered quite slick in their day, with glass atriums and alternating horizontal bands of glass and stucco, brick, or concrete. Companies that lacked the capital to build skyscrapers downtown could construct a larger building with an abundance of parking outside the city. The Reagan administration, preferring a limited government approach in virtually all matters, lacked a policy to strengthen America’s cities, so the suburbs prospered. Although the two main buildings at CambridgePark were constructed in 1985 and ’86, they lack the decoration that refers to traditional American architecture and characterizes much postmodern architecture, as also stated by Diane Ghirardo in Architecture After Modernism.
I believe that this discrepancy points to a transitionary period in the 1980s into which many buildings like the CambridgePark offices exhibit the negative qualities of both modernism and postmodernism. From modernism they take the poor urban contextualization, anonymous appearance, and lack of regional characteristics in design. From postmodernism they take the lack of social aspiration, materialist corporatism, and meaninglessness. While AT&T could afford to hire Philip Johnson to design his famous Chippendale-topped skyscraper for New York, most corporations could not afford such bold postmodern statements. The result was a boring mix of modernism and postmodernism. However, poststructrualism is creeping into the area around this corporate office “park.” Today it’s not so sure about its identity as a single-use commercial zone. With the new condominiums next door you can live right next to work and not miles away—so sometimes it’s a residential neighborhood. The Alewife Bike Path connects the T station to neighboring communities, and it’s in the process of expansion—so sometimes it’s an active recreation park. These modern-postmodern straddling buildings may soon become much more unsure about their identities and drift into the realm of the confused postmodern.
The link between the politics of the Reagan presidency and the postmodern architecture of the time makes a great deal of sense. The office buildings at CambridgePark have no social vision and aspire to no universal social order other than the 9-to-5 workday of the professional. The McLeod reading points out the spike in commercial property completions in the early eighties, enabled by the deregulation of business in America by Reagan. At the same time, the modernist desire to provide housing for the poor waned, with fewer apartments built under the Section 8 low-income housing program each year from 1982-87. The change in values from social aims to material aims is architecturally evident at CambridgePark as well. Across the Alewife Brook Parkway are the Rindge Towers—high-rise public housing buildings constructed in typical modernist tower-in-a-park fashion. Today buildings like these are plagued with rodents and roaches, but they stand for a noble aim of housing those less fortunate in a decent building with plenty of sunlight and space outdoors.
In the Eighties, architecture was used by corporations for grabbing attention. The office buildings of CambridgePark, while bland now, were probably considered quite slick in their day, with glass atriums and alternating horizontal bands of glass and stucco, brick, or concrete. Companies that lacked the capital to build skyscrapers downtown could construct a larger building with an abundance of parking outside the city. The Reagan administration, preferring a limited government approach in virtually all matters, lacked a policy to strengthen America’s cities, so the suburbs prospered. Although the two main buildings at CambridgePark were constructed in 1985 and ’86, they lack the decoration that refers to traditional American architecture and characterizes much postmodern architecture, as also stated by Diane Ghirardo in Architecture After Modernism.
I believe that this discrepancy points to a transitionary period in the 1980s into which many buildings like the CambridgePark offices exhibit the negative qualities of both modernism and postmodernism. From modernism they take the poor urban contextualization, anonymous appearance, and lack of regional characteristics in design. From postmodernism they take the lack of social aspiration, materialist corporatism, and meaninglessness. While AT&T could afford to hire Philip Johnson to design his famous Chippendale-topped skyscraper for New York, most corporations could not afford such bold postmodern statements. The result was a boring mix of modernism and postmodernism. However, poststructrualism is creeping into the area around this corporate office “park.” Today it’s not so sure about its identity as a single-use commercial zone. With the new condominiums next door you can live right next to work and not miles away—so sometimes it’s a residential neighborhood. The Alewife Bike Path connects the T station to neighboring communities, and it’s in the process of expansion—so sometimes it’s an active recreation park. These modern-postmodern straddling buildings may soon become much more unsure about their identities and drift into the realm of the confused postmodern.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Racism Stinks
This afternoon I was waiting to cross a busy intersection on my usual walking route to North Station when a guy crossing shouted that I should go while I still had the chance. I knew the intersection better--the protected turn singal was green, which was the worst time to jaywalk at this particular spot. But once it was safe and I arrived at the other side, the guy asked me what I'd said to him. I explained myself, and then he asked if I worked in the area. I replied affirmatively, at Old City Hall, and then he introduced himself and shook my hand. "First, you're not scared of me, are you? A big black guy in Boston..." he said, "It's okay, I'm 47 years old, but you know. You're the first white guy who hasn't run off."
Now, I was once robbed and nearly carjacked by a man in Springfield when I was in my senior year of high school. He was African-American. Every time a black man asks me for money on the street, that awful memory flashes in my head and I get nervous. However, I counteract that feeling by working hard to keep an open mind to every situation. This man asked me for $4, explaining he was stuck because he needed to resolve some parking issue. It was sunny and plenty of people were walking around, including city officials, so I felt reasonably safe. I felt sorry for him. He seemed perfectly level-headed and friendly, and I could understand that the downtown workers might be racist towards a black man. I did not want to be one of them. I told him that I don't usually carry cash, but after another plea from him I checked my wallet, turning away from him. I didn't have even a dollar.
Unfortunately, I had to give up. He asked if I had an ATM card, and offered to give me free steak for a week, explaining he was a butcher. But that was crossing a line--again a flash of the robbery, which happened outside an ATM. I told him I had to catch my train leaving in 10 minutes, apologized, and wished him luck. Leaving him behind, I saw him approach a middle-aged white guy, probably also someone working in the area.
As I walked to the train station, I felt guilty for not being able to help. In wearing a Barack Obama button on my bag to take pride in our black president, and to remind myself to treat everyone equally. I knew this man would have trouble getting even $4, just because of his race. I tried to give myself a break, that there was nothing I could do.
Boarding the train some minutes later, I realized that I always carry something in my messenger bag, if I ever forget my wallet. A $5 bill.
Now, I was once robbed and nearly carjacked by a man in Springfield when I was in my senior year of high school. He was African-American. Every time a black man asks me for money on the street, that awful memory flashes in my head and I get nervous. However, I counteract that feeling by working hard to keep an open mind to every situation. This man asked me for $4, explaining he was stuck because he needed to resolve some parking issue. It was sunny and plenty of people were walking around, including city officials, so I felt reasonably safe. I felt sorry for him. He seemed perfectly level-headed and friendly, and I could understand that the downtown workers might be racist towards a black man. I did not want to be one of them. I told him that I don't usually carry cash, but after another plea from him I checked my wallet, turning away from him. I didn't have even a dollar.
Unfortunately, I had to give up. He asked if I had an ATM card, and offered to give me free steak for a week, explaining he was a butcher. But that was crossing a line--again a flash of the robbery, which happened outside an ATM. I told him I had to catch my train leaving in 10 minutes, apologized, and wished him luck. Leaving him behind, I saw him approach a middle-aged white guy, probably also someone working in the area.
As I walked to the train station, I felt guilty for not being able to help. In wearing a Barack Obama button on my bag to take pride in our black president, and to remind myself to treat everyone equally. I knew this man would have trouble getting even $4, just because of his race. I tried to give myself a break, that there was nothing I could do.
Boarding the train some minutes later, I realized that I always carry something in my messenger bag, if I ever forget my wallet. A $5 bill.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Snow Clearance
You wouldn't expect your neighbor to clear the snow on the street in front of his house, so why would you depend on him to clear the sidewalk in front of it?
In the United States, automobiles get first priority on our streets. That should be no surprise if you've grown up here. Unfortunately this can lead to some pretty miserable consequences for pedestrians, especially when it comes to snow clearance. Cities and towns are required to plow public roads, but not sidewalks. Citing high costs, municipalities place the responsibility of snow removal from sidewalks on the business and home owners. In some cities and states, they property owners are not required to shovel or plow at all.
Because I missed the 4:50pm train from Boston North Station, I had to take the 5:20pm train that does not stop at Brandeis/Roberts. As a consequence, I had to walk 1.7 miles from the station in downtown Waltham. I took this picture at the most well-lit portion of the walk (under the bright lights of a 99 Restaurant parking lot, not the municipal street lights).
I promise there's a sidewalk here. See how well the street is cleared? At least six plows passed me, scraping the pavement as they zoomed by, but only three business owners and three homeowners were in the process of shoveling the sidewalk. All of the pedestrians had to trudge through the slush, both soaking their shoes and risking their safety.
I propose either: 1) taxpayers allocate the necessary funds to have the city/town plow the sidewalks or; 2) municipalities re-prioritize snow removal based on the amount of environmental damage done by each method of transport: bicycle lanes and sidewalks first, bus and streetcar lanes second, and automobile-only lanes last.
In an automobile-dominated nation, someone has to speak for the pedestrians.
In the United States, automobiles get first priority on our streets. That should be no surprise if you've grown up here. Unfortunately this can lead to some pretty miserable consequences for pedestrians, especially when it comes to snow clearance. Cities and towns are required to plow public roads, but not sidewalks. Citing high costs, municipalities place the responsibility of snow removal from sidewalks on the business and home owners. In some cities and states, they property owners are not required to shovel or plow at all.
Because I missed the 4:50pm train from Boston North Station, I had to take the 5:20pm train that does not stop at Brandeis/Roberts. As a consequence, I had to walk 1.7 miles from the station in downtown Waltham. I took this picture at the most well-lit portion of the walk (under the bright lights of a 99 Restaurant parking lot, not the municipal street lights).
I promise there's a sidewalk here. See how well the street is cleared? At least six plows passed me, scraping the pavement as they zoomed by, but only three business owners and three homeowners were in the process of shoveling the sidewalk. All of the pedestrians had to trudge through the slush, both soaking their shoes and risking their safety.
I propose either: 1) taxpayers allocate the necessary funds to have the city/town plow the sidewalks or; 2) municipalities re-prioritize snow removal based on the amount of environmental damage done by each method of transport: bicycle lanes and sidewalks first, bus and streetcar lanes second, and automobile-only lanes last.
In an automobile-dominated nation, someone has to speak for the pedestrians.
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