For today, here is a photo that didn’t quite fit within the Boundaries of Power post at polis. It is one of Moscow’s ubiquitous pedestrian underpasses during the late 1960s or 1970s. These tunnels make it possible to cross huge streets in a reasonable amount of time, and there are often vendors and performers along the way. A particularly good rock band plays in the underpass leading to the Arbat. They seem to be there every day, surrounded by a festive crowd. Once a dapper elderly couple was ballroom dancing at the center. Parades of rollerbladers click down the stairs and streak by. Rushes of people make it seem like a party when it rains.

Credits: Photo scanned from Moscow Past and Present by V. Promyslov.

May 1968, photo by Gilles Caron.

[Originally posted to polis] This is a postcard of the Hawaii State Capitol around the time of its completion in 1969. The caption on the back says: “Hawaii’s striking and unusual State Capitol is an unforgettable sight when illuminated at night.” Although this sounds kind of euphemistic, the building does appear striking and even beautiful in the photos I’ve seen.

Apparently, the architectural team (a collaboration between Belt, Lemon and Lo, and John Carl Warnecke) explained the building with metaphors from local geography. The reflecting pool is the Pacific Ocean, the legislative chambers are volcanoes, and the columns are coconut trees, with eight on each side to represent the state’s main islands. Even the chandeliers in the legislative chambers are representative (of the sun and moon, that is). My favorite part is the open center, as “it is said that the sky is Hawaii’s capitol rotunda.” (more…)

[Originally posted to polis] Do you have a favorite public work of art? Or least favorite? Whose work would you like to see more of? Or less?

Great public art doesn’t always share the qualities that are thrilling in galleries. I like Georg Baselitz statues, but I would feel uncomfortable viewing some of them in the presence of children and grandparents. At the same time, it can be uncomfortable when public art is boring or just not appealing. This is subjective, but it is also why thinking about public art is important — it enters the lives of many different people, few of whom have any say in the matter.

Not having a say can be good if it exposes us to delightful things we never knew existed. There is a hit-or-miss quality that keeps things interesting, as long as they don’t become static. To keep this from happening, maybe there should be some kind of periodic review for public works of art. This could be a chance for people who experience them to voice their opinions. If a piece turns out to be well loved, it could be preserved. If people are repelled or indifferent, maybe it could be moved to make way for something new. Allowing for a constant stream of work, and keeping the ones that fit, might improve upon the places we move through each day.

It’s nice to see interactive public art, with people stopping to look closer when they’re late for work, kids playing on sculptures, friends posing for funny pictures, couples hiding away, or skateboarders jumping on and off. Art doesn’t have to be social in this way, but it can be great for public spaces when it is.

Credits: I can’t remember where I found this picture of a skateboarder in Philadelphia’s Love Park, but I hope, since I’m not making any money, the photographer won’t mind that I post it. Please let me me know if you have any leads.

[Originally posted to polis] In light of Katia’s recent photo essay theme, here is a series from OEIL PUBLIC on an engineering class at Baghdad University. The school is described as “a place of peace and freedom where young men and women of all religions can meet without being subjected to the pressure of radical militias.”

Whether or not this is true, it’s interesting to see a different side of Iraq, especially after today’s horrific bombings. I wish I could know how these students process the upheavals of the past decade. How does violent change influence their studies and ambitions? Who do they look up to? How do they perceive their environments?

Walter Gropius was among the lead designers of the university in the 1950s. Hisham Ashkouri, a graduate of the architecture program, planned the campus expansion (above) in the 1980s. As another 30 years have nearly passed, what’s next?

The campus environment in the midst of a war-torn city brings to mind the inseparability of buildings and politics (for more on this subject, there is a thoughtful post about the banning of minarets in Switzerland on BLDG BLOG). I’m not sure how much influence professional designers have on the politics of development. People who build their homes in slums may have more. I wonder if today’s design students have new ideas about their place in the world.

Credits: Photos of students at Baghdad University by Jérôme Sessini. Map of Hisham Ashkouri’s Baghdad University campus expansion from Wikimedia Commons.

[Originally posted to polis] I’m not sure about the accuracy of this title. :) Maybe someone else can shed light on that, but there are a lot of impressive moves here. This song reminds me of how audio spaces mix in cities. The way you can hear so many kinds of music, transportation, work, and other activities from your window or while walking down the street. Also how cultural forms combine when a lot of different people are together in one place.

(Video from SBuitenhuis)

[Originally posted to Where] Having just returned from Russia, I’ve been thinking a lot about public and private space. The country has been experiencing rapid privatization since the early 1990s. Many aspects of urban life, from transportation to housing to recreation, are becoming less public.

This isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Private space can encourage responsibility for quality maintenance. We’re usually more likely to repair and improve upon places we own than places we share with everyone.

According to the logic of privatization, public maintenance is best contracted to independent businesses or nonprofits. In a way this makes sense. It provides incentive for efficient work, and as long as high quality is a requirement, we should get intended results at lower costs.

So why do market efficiencies so often result in low-quality public space? Strip malls, for example, or over-commercialized waterfronts. I guess it has to do with our priorities, and how much we’re willing or able to pay. If public space isn’t valued, it will be difficult for businesses and nonprofits to cover the price of basic maintenance.

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[Originally posted to Where] When it comes to transition, it seems there is a lot to learn in Moscow. I’m currently writing from there, after a day of walking around and taking a few pictures. The things that really stand out are the lasting marks left on the city from very different governing ideas: ornate metro stations, trees everywhere, aging apartment blocks, modernist masterworks, cars racing down streets that take an incredibly long time to cross. Everything Stalinist is gigantic.

Many public works have aged remarkably well. The metro stations are efficient and well maintained. The ones in the center of town have all kinds of architectural touches usually reserved for mansions, theaters, monuments, city halls, and museums. There is a basic sturdiness that prevents them from seeming too extravagant. Public green space lines the streets and fills the insides of apartment blocks. It’s very refreshing on summer days. Parks are full of young couples, new families, and elders reading or just watching people pass by. The ones I’ve seen so far have been clean but not highly manicured, which gives them a kind of wilderness feel.

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[Originally posted to Where] Development, use, abandonment, reuse, demolition, redevelopment. Transition states. It seems that everything is in transition, but here I’d like to focus on the span of time between clearly defined places like factories and forests.

Development includes combining separate elements into new forms, like making something out of legos. Materials are assembled into buildings, which in turn form cities. This may fulfill a need or function based on reactions to things that came before. In this sense, new things embody the past.

When a thing no longer serves its purpose, it is often abandoned. At this point it can be reused in its current form, reassembled into something new, or destroyed. But it can never really be destroyed. Nearly imperceptible parts remain in circulation. They integrate with other things. They may haunt us in a way more tangible than the ways we haunt places. Smoke can be like a ghost that haunts us.

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