| Go register and read. This is one of those
| rare well-considered (perhaps too well considered)
| architecture essays in the lay media
ON ARCHITECTURE: Extra-Large
A friend recently told me that his most important pedagogical tool as an
architect is this maxim: the architect's primary ethical responsibility
is to be the guardian of the public realm, in contrast to the myriad
others who currently configure our built landscape--clients,
politicians, contractors, developers, and NIMBY-driven "community
action" committees. The public realm includes not only cultural
institutions, but also arteries of movement; not only urban plazas and
public parks, but also abandoned blocks, suburban playgrounds, and
brownfields; not only shopping malls, but also parking lots. And it
includes not only the voids between buildings, but also the buildings
themselves, exterior and sometimes interior.
Training architects to be urban designers is common in modern
architecture, and it has engendered some wonderful places, such as Bruno
Taut's functional and beloved modernist housing estates of the late
1920s in Berlin. More notoriously, it has produced also some disastrous
ones, such as the ever-collapsing Pruitt-Igoe project of the 1950s, in
St. Louis. As a consequence of the disasters, the specter of architects
designing urban (or suburban, or whatever) environments conjures up
popular fears that singular, and singularly wrongheaded, visions will be
visited upon precious and complicated social space. This certainly
happens. Yet the alternative approach--confining the obligations of
architects to a particular site's perimeter--is inordinately worse.
Architects often switch-hit between architecture and urban design. You
might think, given their celebrity, that Daniel Libeskind and Frank
Gehry are at the forefront of new thinking about the shape of today's
and tomorrow's built public realm, but you'd be wrong. Rem Koolhaas is.
Heart-stoppingly brilliant, Koolhaas owes his influence to his
omnivorous curiosity about, and wide-angle lens on, the contemporary
world; his extraordinary mix of nihilism, idealism, and wit; his
institutional base at the Harvard Design School; his students' and
apprentices' work; his facility for generating opaque and paradoxical
aphorisms, many of which are mass-reproduced in his highly stylized
publications; and, most importantly, his often prophetic ideas and
buildings. From Koolhaas come some of contemporary architecture's
most-reproduced forms and structures: the giraffe-legged Villa dall'Ava
in suburban Paris, one of the greatest buildings of the late twentieth
century, and the stupendous fishnet-steel-and-glass-covered Seattle
Public Library, which opened in 2004. He has re-directed the
architectural thought and practices of a generation....
....
n Koolhaas's hands, architecture and urban design are not just
intermeshed, they are also conflated. His current work is giving
physical form to an urban vision that has haunted him, in his mind's
eye, for decades. But is it wise? Is it right? Is it socio-critical, as
he maintains? If we consider his stated aims for his architecture, his
abiding interest in Surrealism, and his accession to extravagant
proclamations about the death of the public realm, OMA's occasional
insistence upon the publicness of its master plans ("Let Almere be a
place of maximum public interaction!") seems less than sincere. OMA
proudly describes as Piranesian the Carrefour's spaces, intimating that
they create the same sense of alienating solitude that the
eighteenth-century Italian architect captured in his famous Carcerci
engravings. But they depicted prisons! This and other such comments,
Almere and other such urban designs, demonstrate the deep and
unfortunate affinity of Koolhaas's architecture with his urban designs.
Even in the most public spaces, Koolhaas's true subject is the modern
subject's inner musings. His urban universe asks no more of public
spaces than that they stimulate private epiphanies, moments of
philosophical reverie in which the alienated individual in the city
might contemplate his finitude and his irrelevance among the teeming
spectacle of urban life. This vision has issued in some show-stopping
buildings, where the celebration of private truths is appropriate. Yet
to apply it to today's panoply of conurbations is disastrously to
conflate public with private, to make the public private and the private
public. In the Koolhaasian city people are never really alone, but
neither are they ever really together.
cont'd....
http://www.tnr.com/doc.mhtml?pt=RS2KwHZj6DBUlRLzXeGEdC==
