Nordstrom’s absquatulation*

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View of Providence Place, with Nordstrom at right. (photo by author)

Providence and its renaissance will survive the departure, announced yesterday, of Nordstrom from the Providence Place mall. Many local commentators are pulling their hair out in shock and dismay. Relax. Losing Nordstrom is a gut check, but hardly fatal.

It’s early, but the winning entry in the sweepstakes for the gloomiest reaction to the startling news may be GoLocalProv’s “The Death of the Providence Renaissance.” “The Providence Renaissance began in the late 1990s. … Two decades later, Providence is stagnant.” The evidence? “A new report of the fastest growing cities in America ranks Providence number 458 out of 515 ranked. The population of Providence has decreased over the past fifty plus years. Providence’s population in 1960 was 207,498 and today it is just 179,219. And now, the Renaissance seems to be morphing into the Dark Ages.”

To take these in order, the renaissance started not in the late 1990s but in the late 1970s, after Johnson & Wales started renovating old buildings and the city embraced an unofficial moratorium on the demolition of old buildings downtown (which lasted until 2005). To save old buildings became the order of the day, including the Biltmore hotel, which had closed in 1975, reopened in 1979, and the Ocean State Theater, whose application for a demo permit in the late 1970s was refused, leading to its eventual rehabilitation as PPAC. Work began on the Capital Center development project in the early 1980s, and in the mid-’80s the river-relocation project was added. In the early ’90s the convention center and Westin hotel joined the fun. Waterplace opened in 1994, the same year as the first WaterFire. Narragansett Electric Co.’s Manchester Street Station was renovated in 1996. The renaissance was well under way by the late ’90s, and went into overdrive when the mall opened and Buff Chace started rehabbing old buildings as lofts the same year.

Stagnation hit almost a decade ago, before the Great Recession, when most of Chace’s rehabs were done. Old buildings were being demolished again after a quarter of a century. (Thank you, Mayor Cicilline!) Five new buildings were proposed in 2005, including one that would have topped the Industrial Trust. None was ever built. But the mall had become a financial boon to the state, and a great “third place.” However, in 2011, Borders closed.

Under a string of owners, the mall has been poorly run, a fact that was evident years ago when management refused, in spite of repeated requests from this corner, to fix the glorious exterior lighting that had long washed up between the pilasters at Macy’s. The mall’s lunkheaded leadership reached its nadir when Borders was replaced by the umpteenth shoe store. The last upscale restaurant, the Napa Valley Grille, also closed in 2011.

If Nordstrom is so vital to the Providence economy and to the mall’s already tarnished upscale rep – and it is – the mall should have tried harder to keep it there, offering a lower and lower lease until Nordstrom could no longer refuse. Its replacement will be Boscov’s, a retail chain that offers much of what Nordstrom offers at – ahem! – a lower price point. Let’s not forget that Nordstrom, too, is a retail chain. Perhaps, however, Boscov’s will do a better job tapping the market of metro Providence at its true price point.

Naturally, we hesitate to embrace that idea. But look at the survey linked above by GoLocalProv as “fastest growing cities in America.” Look at it and one thing is clear: The places rated tops in “growth” may not rank very high in a list of “nicest places to live.”

Providence’s population has declined from 207,498 in 1960 to 179,219 today. In 1959 and 1960, the city proposed the College Hill plan and the Downtown Providence 1970 plan. Both plans recommended massive demolition and urban renewal, replacing old buildings with new modernist buildings. Both plans were largely abandoned in just a few years, and what little was built made Providence worse. Neighborhoods were already being bulldozed for new highways. A highway had been seriously proposed to shoot right up the Providence River. The status of downtown and College Hill today is a rebuke to the know-it-alls of yesterday. It is altogether possible that a large portion of the population that left after 1960 were people who felt queasy at the city fathers’ ridiculous, indeed horrifying idea of what Providence needed to stem the flow of residents and businesses to the suburbs.

Be that as it may, the failure of these two plans left Providence with extensive historic architectural fabric intact, more so than in most cities, whether bigger or smaller, many of which bought whole hog into urban renewal and modern architecture. Providence did not, and that is the basic reason there was a Providence renaissance at all. In the 1980s, civic leaders finally “woke” to the idea that beauty was this city’s major advantage (along with being between Boston and New York City) in vying with other cities.

Today, our city fathers seem to have forgotten that. They are transforming a beautiful city into a standard city, one that could be located anywhere. Look at what is being built in the Route 195 corridor. New buildings, yes, but, my god! Must they be so damn ugly? Has Providence learned nothing over its past very extraordinary 40 years? Were today’s leaders asleep during the city’s renaissance? It certainly looks that way.

The primary concern of a city’s leadership should be its citizens of today, not its possible citizens of tomorrow. Make Providence nice and beautiful for today’s citizens and people in other cities are much more likely to become tomorrow’s citizens of Providence. Yes, other factors that have nothing to do with beauty are vital to making a place livable. However, those factors are very hard to do right, whereas we already know how to bring beauty to the city because it has been done very well before. Beauty creates places where civility reigns, and under the influence of a civilized environment it may be easier to come together and solve the city’s toughest problems. We already have more of such an environment than almost every other city. Let’s build it up not tear it down. Let’s strengthen our brand, not shoot it in the foot.

Providence’s mantra should not be more and bigger but better and better. That should be the lesson we take from the departure of Nordstrom.

* Absquatulate means to leave abruptly, and usually has a connotation of tail between leg.

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Europe as museum for rich?

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A bistro in Paris near the Sorbonne. (parisinsidersguide.com)

The late Walter Laqueur, who died last week after a long career cataloguing the sins of communism, terrorism and the Holocaust, was quoted in his New York Times obituary asserting that the “possibility that Europe will become a museum or a cultural amusement park for the nouveau riche of globalization is not completely out of the question.”

Alas, it is not. Fortunately, it still must be considered a possibility, not an actuality. Great thinkers and writers still live in Europe’s cities and towns. Laqueur lived mostly in London. One must assume that he was dismayed by the proliferation of ugly, sterile skyscrapers in what was once among the world’s most beautiful cities. Such towers are precursors to the eventual victory of totalitarianism in the West, which fought so hard in the last century to protect itself and the world from authoritarian rule.

We often hear the words museum and cities together in ridiculous claims that old cities will become “museums” if new architecture is built to fit into their historical settings. That is not what Laqueur was talking about, and I doubt he would subscribe to that fabricated modernist anxiety.

The Times obituarist, Sam Roberts, wrote:

Among Mr. Laqueur’s last books was Reflections of a Veteran Pessimist (2017). The title notwithstanding, he told Der Spiegel that he would have preferred to live during the belle époque, at the end of the 19th century, when hope sprang eternal. He then paused to reconsider.

“Hope springs eternal,” he repeated. “It’s one of the most frequently quoted verses of English poetry. The poet was Alexander Pope, a decidedly cautious man. He had many enemies, and we know from his sister that he never went out into the street without his large, aggressive dog, and always with two loaded pistols in his bag.”

Hope springs eternal that Europe will still be worth visiting after the next decade or more of modernist slab construction. Eventually, it must stop or going to Europe will no longer be worthwhile, nor will the rich have any reason to buy apartments there. In the late 19th century – the Belle Époque – the beauty of cities there and perhaps elsewhere reached its apogee. That may be why hope sprang so eternally. Is anybody a flâneur in a city that does not reward walking, that has instead submitted its future to the tender mercies of modern architecture? Certainly not.

British philosopher Roger Scruton, in The Classical Vernacular, wrote that

[Classical] streets are frequented in equal measure by the aimless and the purposeful, for they are bounded by surfaces that concede the vitality of civil life. The classical wall, which is humanly proportioned, safe, gregarious, and quietly vigilant [here Scruton channels Jane Jacobs] constantly reminds the pedestrian that he is not alone, that he is in a world of human encounter, and that he must match the good manners of the wall which guides him.

A few days ago I read in The Irish Times that a law to ban tourists from sitting on steps is being considered by the Venetian authorities. It is already illegal there to sit on the steps of monuments and on those of the portico of St. Mark’s Square. NBC Evening News had a segment last night reporting that 300 bistros had closed this past year in Paris, so ubiquitous have the fast-food merchants proliferated there. That’s terrible news, but I would rather be forced to pay for a seat on the Champs-Élysées or on St. Mark’s Square than be free to sit on a patch of hallowed ground surrounded by McDonald’ses, let alone skyscrapers.

Has the death of the European city already occurred? I don’t think so. But the death rattle can be heard.

Don’t even ask about American cities. A couple days ago I read an article (“What is developer Fane’s track record in Toronto?“) that defended The Fane Organization, which proposes a 600-foot tower in Providence’s Jewelry District, by bragging on Fane’s projects contributing to the towerization of Toronto. Utterly unconvincing, but it demonstrates sadly how thing are going that such claptrap gets serious attention even in Providence.

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Big vote tonight on Edge II

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Edge College Hill II center, blocks most of Edge College Hill I. (upriseri.com)

Edge College Hill II, the follow-on to the nearly complete Edge I residential tower on Canal Street, goes before the Providence City Council today for a huge wad of city cash. Under a tax stabilization agreement (TSA) up for final approval tonight, its developer stands to save some $18 million over 20 years on property taxes. This development incentive is too much for too long. The council, which meets at 7 p.m. today, should give it another look. Citizens should converge there to make their views known.

The two Edge projects seem to have proceeded under cover of the public’s attention to the proposed 600-foot Fane tower in the Jewelry District, just beyond downtown. Which project (Edge or Fane) poses the greater harm to the city is debatable, but the Edge has hid nervously behind the smoke of the furious Fane flap to the south.

And it must be said that Edge II has improved in its design. It has shed four floors in height and its much shorter wings, along Steeple and North Main streets, appear to pay a bit more respect, after some tweaking, to historical context. North Main is the city’s oldest street – it was once called the Town Street. And while RISD has spat twice in history’s face (Museum addition, Illustration addition), and intends to do so again soon (infill of U at RISD Administration), the historical fabric remains strong. (RISD used to be good at fitting its growth into the city’s beauty. What happened?)

Edge II will serve to mask views of the considerably uglier Edge I, but does that means it deserves this Brobdingnagian TSA? No. The city should do more to direct TSAs to projects that better fulfill the original mission to promote affordable housing, inside and outside of downtown.

Again, council meets at 7 p.m. today in City Hall.

Meanwhile, it has been announced that a second public hearing of the Ordinance Committee on whether to let the Fane tower rise six times what zoning permits will be held at 5:30 p.m. on Monday, Oct. 22 at City Hall. Council ducked the issue after Ordinance issued a negative recommendation. Council says that Fane, having bunked the first hearing, deserves a second chance. It does not, but council members are sheepish about voting (before the November election) to sack the city’s zoning, which would be the practical outcome of a pro-Fane vote. (Pun intended.)

Little beads of sweat have been sighted running down the forehead of Jason Fane in recent days. Concerned that Providence can no longer be trusted to ram the 600-foot tower home, state senate president Dominick “Rubbers” Ruggerio has come to his aid, proposing to end what authority the city has in the corridor. Whether the cavalry will arrive in time is doubtful. (Whether Ruggerio deserves to retain his post, having been arrested for stealing condoms from a Cranston CVS in 1990, is another question.)

Reminder: Council meets today to vote on its second approval for the Edge College Hill II TSA at 7 p.m. in City Hall.

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Humanities in Providence

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Providence Athenaeum, left; Masonic Temple, State House beyond. (Pinterest)

Two of my favorite buildings will host humanities events on Thursday and Friday of this week. If you are attending the silent auction sponsored by the Rhode Island Council for the Humanities tomorrow, you will see the Masonic Temple, now a ritzy hotel, near the State House; if you are attending the next day’s sold-out lecture by Brown humanities professor Arnold Weinstein at the Providence Athenaeum, that is what you will see.

Architecture is not one of the humanities, but perhaps it ought to be. It is known as the Queen of the Arts. However, she might be a bit confused by architecture today, which refuses to speak in a language accessible to all. Modern architecture’s intentional obscurity seems to resemble the studied obscurantism that has overtaken the humanities in recent decades, so I feel obliged to push back against an idea upon which the professor of literature may well express himself. In favor? So I fear.

That is that established methods of teaching and engaging with art and literature are old hat and have been justly overtaken by academic theories that reject traditional meaning.

Weinstein is noted for a column he wrote in the Feb. 23, 2016, New York Times, “Don’t Turn Away From the Art of Life,” in which he states: “The arts can no longer compete with the prestige and financial payoffs promised by studying the STEM fields — a curriculum integrating science, technology, engineering and mathematics.” That’s certainly true, and thoroughly regrettable. But the humanities have only themselves to blame.

STEM disciplines actually retain just that – discipline – a value that has largely been expunged from the arts and humanities. Some educrats even add an A to the acronym, STEAM, so the arts do not feel left out. This merely exemplifies the extent to which the “softer” fields have embraced a spurious complexity so as to offer a superficial egality with more rigorous fields. This twisting de-emphasizes hard facts so as not to exclude or offend anybody.

The process gives rise to an obscurantism that has replaced serious academic thinking in most of the arts and humanities. So discombobulated is the result that it is obvious to most intelligent people in and out of the fields. The most talented obscurantists, perhaps including Weinstein, manage to carry off this reconceptualization of the humanities with no small degree of panache, so that some readers cannot tell they are being spoofed.

The professor, in his column, writes:

A humanistic education is not about memorizing poems or knowing when X wrote Y, and what Z had to say about it. It is, instead, about the human record that is available to us in libraries and museums and theaters and, yes, online. But that record lives and breathes; it is not calculable or teachable via numbers or bullet points. …

In that passage I think I hear Weinstein saying that scholars have uncovered many more things in Shakespeare than he ever dreamed of. Maybe so, but it is important for scholars to be clear about – and admit the importance of – what Shakespeare was intending to say versus what scholars invent and attribute to him in order to establish their analytical reputations. It is vital for future Shakespeare scholars to learn the bullet points of the Bard. Serious analysis is built on a factual foundation. Students who are not tasked to learn the result of centuries of Shakespeare scholarship or to memorize passages from his works may forgo a strength of mind that later will be crucial to analyzing him with any degree of academic rigor. But does anyone care about that anymore?

Professors who insist that students treat straightforward readings of creative works as unnecessary and unreliable social constructs are as bad as architects who reject beauty as vital to architecture. At least modernist architects can be momentarily forgotten under the enchanting influence of the Athenaeum (1838) and the Masonic Temple (1927, completed 2007).

I much prefer this simple and lovely thought from Weinstein’s column:

“How much do you know about Shakespeare,” I once asked a friend who has committed much of her life to studying the Bard. She replied, “Not as much as he knows about me.”

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Shubow to U.S. arts board

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Lincoln Memorial (Power Line)

In a truly exciting appointment, President Trump has placed one of the nation’s most talented advocates for beauty on the U.S. Commission of Fine Arts. Justin Shubow, who heads and will continue at the National Civic Art Society during his official tenure, brings to the commission’s deliberations a refined eye for artistic revival in the nation’s capital, and that will include architecture. Maybe he can stop the Dwight D. Gerhy carbuncle.

Yes! Make America Beautiful Again!

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Justin Shubow (Power Line)

Maybe it is too much to expect Shubow, from his one seat on the seven-member commission, to do what the president could and should have done with a flick of his finger before the project broke ground last fall. On the other hand, Shubow may now be better placed to argue that the federal government should contribute hundreds of millions of federal dollars to the renovation of Pennsylvania Station only if the project is shifted to reflect the original 1910 design by Charles Follen McKim. That’s in New York City, of course, which is outside the boundaries of the commission’s authority. But Shubow has an even bigger policy voice now, and good policy is a very fungible jurisdiction.

Both the memorial to Ike and Penn Station projects have been taken up by the National Civic Art Society.

Before Shubow arrived at the NCAS back in 2011, it had sponsored a design competition for an alternative to the Ike memorial proposed by Gehry. Soon after he took over at the NCAS, he wrote a long paper against Gehry’s proposal called “The Gehry Towers Over Eisenhower.” Between these two events, I met Justin at a coffee shop across the street from where my father once worked at the federal Office of Management and Budget. Justin struck me as very bright, even philosophical.

Indeed, Shubow’s high energy and high mindedness transformed the group’s opposition to the Gehry design into a publicity steamroller that garnered constant media attention, drove the modernists nuts, and, partly through his testimony there, persuaded Congress to throw its weight behind blocking the Gehry design. And the society would’ve succeeded, I believe, if the Eisenhower family, long united in opposition, had not turned coat against their paterfamilias in favor of a monument to Gehry.

Allan Greenberg, who designed the diplomatic reception rooms at the U.S. Department of State, said of Shubow’s leadership: “When the National Civic Art Society began its Eisenhower Memorial fight, it was like Hans Brinker plugging a dyke all by himself with one finger. Now the National Civic Art Society is well on its way to becoming a Washington powerhouse.”

The Fine Arts Commission, an independent federal agency, was established in 1910. J. Carter Brown, scion of Providence’s leading family of merchants (yes, Brown University), served as its chairman for 31 years, from 1971 to 2002, years during which the commission’s unseemly dedication to modern architecture did much to edge classical beauty out of favor in Washington’s monumental core. Thereafter, the commission’s rulings continued get under my skin. Its insufficient ardor for art was on full display in the strange case of Gehry v. Eisenhower. Shubow is sure to take a different tack.

In bending the arc of art in the proper direction, Shubow has his work cut out for him. But if anyone can do it I am sure he can. Congratulations, Justin! The world of classical architecture, allied with the intergalactic universe of beauty, will be pulling for you.

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Architecture’s Three Stooges

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Le Corbusier’s Unite d’habitation (1952), in Marseille, France. (mimoa.eu)

Theodore Dalrymple, a British physician, psychiatrist and theorist of society, culture and design, has written a review of James Stevens Curl’s new book Making Dystopia for the New English Review. Dalrymple calls the book “essential, uncompromising, learned,” and especially devastating in its comprehensive critique of modern architecture’s founding lunatics – oops, I mean theorists: the Swiss/French Le Corbusier, and the Germans Ludwig Mies van der Rohe and Walter Gropius.

In like fashion, as [Dystopia] makes beautifully clear, the modernists were adept at claiming both that their architecture was a logical development of and aesthetic successor to classical Greek architecture and utterly new and unprecedented. The latter, of course, was nearer the mark: they created buildings that, not only in theory but in actual practice, were incompatible with all that had gone before, and intentionally so. Any single one of their buildings could, and often did, lay waste a townscape, with devastating consequences. What had previously been a source of pride for inhabitants became a source of impotent despair. Corbusier’s books are littered with references to the Parthenon and other great monuments of architectural genius: but how anybody can see anything in common between the Parthenon and the Unité d’habitation …, other than that both are the product of human labor, defeats me.

But of course nothing will come of nothing: architectural modernism has a pre-history just as it has its baleful successors. Professor Curl traces both with panache and erudition and shows that the almost universally accepted history of modernism is actually assiduous propaganda rather than history, resulting not merely in untruth but the opposite of truth. Thus both William Morris and C.F.A. Voysey were claimed by apologists for modernism as progenitors of it, though this is fantastically unlikely to anyone with eyes to see, and Voysey explicitly detested modernism, among other things saying that it was pitifully full of faults and vulgarly aggressive. Nevertheless, [Nikolaus] Pevsner, the great architectural historian, who once called for architecture to be called totalitarian, insisted that Voysey was a precursor of modernism, thus implying that he knew better what Voysey was about than Voysey himself knew.

The widely accepted narrative of modernism a la Gropius is that it was some kind of logical or ineluctable development from the Arts and Crafts movement. This seems to be utterly fantastic: it is like saying that Mickey Spillane is a logical or ineluctable outgrowth of Montesquieu. … Moreover, claiming respectable ancestors is somewhat at variance with equal claims to be starting from zero (as Gropius put it), but such a contradiction is hardly noticed by the grand narrative history of modernism that Professor Curl attacks and destroys.

(Both the professor and his reviewer are far too kind to the modernists. I have taken the liberty of referring to modern architecture’s three leading founders as its Three Stooges. I could not resist, though arguably the Stooges were far more intelligent, would have designed far better buildings, and certainly wrecked far less havoc on the world. I make no apology for using the word lunatics to refer to the three founding modernists.)

Making Dystopia will be available in the U.S. on Oct. 23, though it may be purchased elsewhere, including online through its British publisher, Oxford University Press.

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MVRDV’s Seoul Moby Dick

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One of two new buildings in an entertainment complex near Seoul. (MVRDV)

First I would like to petition for the creation of a mnemonic device for the name of the Dutch firm MVRDV. You can’t even get it right when you’re looking at it! Okay. So here’s a paragraph from Jesus Diaz’s piece for Fast Company about two buildings designed by MVRDV for an entertainment project near Seoul:

Instead of creating plain box-like structures or, worse, mimicking the artificial grandiosity of a Vegas casino, MVRDV decided to build a surrealist’s wonderland. First, they took the facades of other buildings in the same complex, which is known as Paradise City, a large resort town attached to Incheon International Airport, and digitally “draped” them over the facades of the new buildings – then actually twisted the entire 3D model to give the impression that reality itself was being distorted.

Diaz thinks it looks like something out of a painting by Salvador Dali. Perhaps. The headline uses the word mutant: “These buildings look like mutant 3D models come to life,” and that’s not intended as criticism. Nor do they seem to have “come to life.” No way. To me, one of the buildings looks like Moby Dick – that is, Captain Ahab’s mean white whale from Melville’s novel of the same name. That is intended as criticism.

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The project’s second building by MVRDV

But take the first quoted sentence above: “Instead of creating plain box-like structures or, worse, mimicking the artificial grandiosity of a Vegas casino … .” Or worse? Does Diaz really think a plain box is better than the alternative he cites? If he was thinking of the Venetian or Paris Las Vegas – both are excellent attempts to mimic the real thing – that would certainly be preferable to a “plain box-like structure.” Or if he is thinking of lesser casino designs in Las Vegas, they’d still be better than a plain box.

Anyhow, the final two buildings in an entertainment/hotel complex of six are completed now, or at least that seems to be what’s implied in Diaz’s article. The illustrations he uses really do look like models, do they not? Here is architect Winy Maas’s description of the plan to integrate entertainment and art with the designs of the complex’s other four buildings:

The [new buildings’] design achieves this by projecting the façades of the surrounding buildings in the complex, which are ‘draped’ over the simple building forms and plazas like a shadow, and ‘imprinted’ as a relief pattern onto the façades. … What, then, is the difference between architecture and art? The project plays with that and I think that abstraction is part of it, but it has to surprise, seduce, and it has to calm down.

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MVRDV project in Seoul.

Huh? MVRDV proudly traffics in distorting reality, which can of course be anything the architects want it to be. Do the two buildings really fit into their urban context (if it may be so called)? There is no way buildings like this can possibly fit together as a coherent district within a city. That is not what they are supposed to do, but that is what they ought to do. Beauty as art is intrinsically exciting. Modern architecture is fake beauty. Most architects today do not understand this, and their ignorance of the principle almost mandates that any new building will degrade rather than improve an area, even if the individual buildings are, um, exciting.

A while back NKVD, oops, I meant MVRDV, proposed two residential towers for Seoul that resembled the WTC terrorist attack. Exciting! It then entered denial mode when critics complained of the architects’ insensitivity. In the case of the Seoul Moby Dick and its brother, which looks somewhat like a normal building on acid, who really cares what it looks like? It will not disrupt any beautiful streetscapes. There are none in this fetid vicinity.

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Entertainment complex with two buildings, bracketing center, by MVRDV, near Seoul. (MVRDV)

 

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Science and architecture

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Stata Center (2004) at MIT, in Cambridge, Mass. (inquiriesjournal.com)

Some perverse mental hiccup recently tricked my mind into picturing the Stata Center, designed by Frank Gehry and completed in 2004 to house the science department at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Woe was me, briefly, until my natural defensive systems caused me to remember a wonderful passage about why traditional architecture is far more scientific than the modern architecture, which falsely claims to be scientific.

In the passage, the British philosopher Sir Roger Scruton was channeling Nikos Salingaros, the University of Texas mathematician who recently, with theorist Michael Mehaffy, won the Clem Labine Award from Traditional Building magazine. Scruton had reviewed Salingaros’s book A Theory of Architecture for The New Criterion in 2008, and I wrote a column about it called “Why classical architecture rocks.” The passage was so sweet that I cannot resist reprinting it here.

Scruton starts by quoting Salingaros about the Stata, which looks something like real architecture seen in a fun-house mirror. Its randomness “is the antithesis of nature’s organized complexity. … Housing a scientific department at a university inside the symbol of its nemesis must be the ultimate irony.” Scruton then goes on to describe, at delightful length, the central idea of Salingaros’s theory:

Architecture, Salingaros argues, is governed by universal and intuitively understood principles, which have been exemplified by all successful styles and in all civilizations that have left a record of themselves in their buildings. These principles are followed by life itself, and govern the process that unites part to part and part to whole in a complex organism. Because these principles correspond to life processes in ourselves, we intuitively recognize their authority, are at home with buildings that obey them, and uncomfortable with buildings that do not. The forms, scales, materials and undetailed surfaces of modern buildings deliberately flout these principles, and this is a sufficient explanation of the hostility that they arouse.

For Salingaros, therefore, no cause is more urgent than a return to the natural order of architecture, which will enable us once again to be at home in urban surroundings.

The secret of this natural order is contained in the concept of scale. Successful buildings are not given size and shape, as it were, in one gesture. … Successful buildings achieve their size and shape, Salingaros argues, by a hierarchy of scales, which lets us read their larger dimensions as amplifications of the smaller. The architect ascends from the smallest scale to the largest through repeated application of a “scaling rule,” [which] is not arbitrary, since life itself seems to favor, in the fractal structures of leaves and cells, a figure in the neighborhood of three, and it is the “rule of a third” which, according to Salingaros, has been applied by master architects throughout history. …

Salingaros develops this and related ideas in an intriguing manner, arguing that modernism went wrong from the start, with Adolf Loos’s famous dismissal of ornament [in Ornament and Crime, published in 1913] – a dismissal which effectively left the lowest end of the scalar progression undefined, so that everything larger became free-floating and ungrounded.

Many of the ways in which architectural cells unfold into buildings imitate the ways in which plants and animals grow, and in attempting to give a comprehensive theory of this kind of unfolding, Salingaros is repeating a theme broached in his writings by the Prince of Wales.

Salingaros associates the radical modernism of the starchitects less with egotism than with a nihilist desire to negate the togetherness of communities, and to infect our surroundings with objects that forbid us to take comfort.

Why? I think today’s architecture, which took over the architectural establishment in the late 1940s, is the only global industry that buys into the idea that using chaos to destroy human institutions – including the built environment – will eventually enable a utopia to be built upon the ruins.

Fat chance.

Most architects don’t realize the bottom line of the kind of buildings they design. Still, just by designing them, they unintentionally but automatically contribute to a philosophical or political project of which most are entirely unaware. So, instead of utopia, we are getting its opposite – dystopia – as James Stevens Curl’s new book Making Dystopia explains with a highly appropriate dyspepsia.

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Pillar to post at the Hall

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Capital of column inside Cranston’s William Hall Free Library. (photo by author)

Looking over two photographs of columns at the William Hall Free Library, in Cranston, R.I., where I will be speaking at 3 p.m. tomorrow (Saturday), I noticed that each has the same style of column capital, but there are notable differences in their personalities. The apparently happier interior columns, pictured above, have Corinthian capitals while the more subdued exterior columns, pictured below, have Ionic capitals.

Really? Well, perhaps.

Frankly, I can’t figure out what kind of capitals these are. The interior capitals seem more Corinthian because their acanthus leaves are not as subsidiary to their volutes – the features that look like scrolls – as in the true Ionic. On the capitals of the exterior, the volutes are more dominant, but not as dominant or as large as is customary in an Ionic capital. And there are no little baby volutes at play among the acanthus. The whole matter is further obscured by the existence of a style called Composite – a mixture of Ionic and Corinthian – and these may actually be Composites of differing emphasis.

The architect, George Frederick Hall (no relation to William Hall, the library’s namesake), is not with us to clear up the confusion.

Note, too, that both the interior and exterior columns are smooth, without the long vertical indentations known as fluting, supposedly characteristic of the Ionic, Corinthian and Composite orders. Only the Tuscan and Doric of the main five orders are without fluting, and neither the interior nor the exterior capitals of the Hall Free Library are Tuscan or Doric.

The more reserved of the two capitals is the exterior version upholding the portico of the library. On the exterior, which is pictured below, there are no minor volutes (the scroll-like features) between the major volutes at each “corner” of the capital. I put corner in quotes because these columns are round and round doesn’t do corners, does it? Furthermore, the acanthus leaves outside are more orderly. On the interior, they are more relaxed. The exterior capitals seem to reflect a desire to stand up straight with no silly business, whereas the interior capitals seem to do a better job of reflecting the fact that they are in a library, where people still get to enjoy books.

Maybe at night the interior columns get down and cavort among the books. The exterior columns can’t really do that, so they seem to be pouting behind their cloak of superior dignity. On the other hand, is it possible to detect a hint of Art Deco in the composition? Perhaps at night these columns hop down on the lawn to Jitterbug. After all, the library was completed in 1927, at the height of the Roaring ’20s, the Jazz Age. Well, just a thought.

So it seems that there is a lot of disobedience (civil, of course) in the classical orders. Under these conditions, it would be interesting to hear an expert in classical architecture describe the difference between error and invention in the orders. Don’t ask me! My claim to expertise is highly dubious, but if you show up at the Hall tomorrow and ask, I will try my best to answer.

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Capital of column outside the Hall Free Library. (photo by author)

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My talk at Hall Free Library

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William H. Hall Free Library, 1825 Broad St., Cranston. (photo by Eric Harrison)

This Saturday at 3 p.m. I will give an illustrated lecture at the William Henry Hall Free Library to celebrate the Hall library and the amalgamation, half a century ago, of six independent neighborhood libraries as the Cranston Public Library system in 1968. The Hall, completed in 1927, was one of the six, and remains one of those “be still my heart” classical buildings.

My talk will put the library into the context of the history of architecture in the 20th century. The land was donated by William Hall to erect a new building for the Edgewood Library Civic Club, founded in 1996. Hired to design it was the architecture firm of Martin & Hall, whose George Frederick Hall was (so far as we know) no relation to the library’s namesake. Hall was the supervising architect for the Industrial Trust Bank Building we nowadays call the Superman Building, but also the Roger Williams Park Museum and the Smith Building, whose 1999 rehab as lofts was the scene of my tenancy in downtown for the next 11 years, right across Eddy Street from Providence City Hall (no relation to either William Henry Hall or George Frederick Hall) and the Old Journal Building, now slated for renovation as a hotel.

What a view! But I digress.

Such tidbits may or may not make it into my talk on Saturday, but be warned that the broader history of architecture in the last century will be targeted. This may reveal how a library system featuring a goddess of architecture like the Hall Free Library could end up under the suzerainty of a central branch, built in 1982, that looks like the building that sits at the bottom of this post. (I try to find the best possible shot even of buildings I don’t like, but I could locate online nothing decent, or even containing the entire building.)

For years my ignorance denied me the pleasure of viewing the William Hall Free Library. My doctor has her office on Broad and for years I would drive there from downtown, park, and have my ailments addressed. She is Jeanne Swen, whom I would stack against any G.P. east of the Mississippi, but she didn’t tell me to drive a few blocks farther south to behold the local branch of the Cranston Public Library. So the Hall remained hidden, just beyond my ken – that is, until Clay Fulkerson, who crafts miniature ancient temples of sublime virtuosity, asked me to come see his collection, then on display at the Hall Free Library.

I came, I saw, and was conquered – by the library but also by Fulkerson’s work, which I described and photographed on Nov. 13, 2015, in “Ancient temples on parade.” Two days later I posted “Cranston’s Hall Free Library,” also with a host of photos, some of which will make it into my little talk on Saturday, a free event tacked on at the end of the library’s open house, which I hope my dear readers will attend.

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Cranston Public Library’s central branch on Sockanosset Cross Rd. (CPL)

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