Category: architecture

An Onanistic Abomination

I am referring, of course, to architect Frank Gehry’s latest building, the LUMA tower in Arles.

Arles is a Unesco world heritage site for its classic architecture, including a Roman Coliseum, a cathedral dating back to the 1200s, and a city center comprised mainly of 17th century townhouses.

This is hideous, even by the standards of Gehry’s normal exercises in excess, but it is to be expected from a man who created a building, the Walt Disney Concert Hall in Los Angeles, that literally fried its neighbors.

The culture and aesthetics of high end architecture is truly broken:

Over its 3,000 years, the city of Arles, France, has seen a lot. The Provençal town, once home to the Celts and later the Greeks and Romans, has played host over the centuries to a varied cast of characters that includes Roman emperors and Pablo Picasso. But it is perhaps best known as a pilgrimage site for devotees of Vincent van Gogh, who spent one of his most prolific years in Arles shortly before his death. The city’s lengthy and varied history has also made it a draw for architecture buffs: Its 12th-century Romanesque cathedral and ancient Roman amphitheater helped earn Arles one of France’s earliest Unesco World Heritage designations in 1981.

Sometime in the 17th century, a series of bourgeois townhouses were constructed in the village center. Since then, very little in Arles has changed. The city looks much the same as it did when Van Gogh sat at a sidewalk table and sketched the street scene that would become his famed Café Terrace at Night, and visitors can wander down the Place du Forum to dine at the same café the artist painted in 1888. Until recently, it would have been possible to walk across town and replicate the experience with Van Gogh’s Starry Night Over the Rhône—to stand on the banks of the river and gaze out at the same vista that met the artist’s eye over 130 years ago. For the first time in many years, Arles’ skyline is changing, with the addition of an ambitious new cultural complex called LUMA Arles.

Standing 184 feet tall, LUMA Arles towers over the city—the next tallest building is the 12th-century Cathedral of St. Trophime at about 138 feet tall. It is the centerpiece of the LUMA Foundation’s 27-acre campus, which the arts philanthropic organization has situated in a former railyard turned park. It’s also the culmination of over a decade of work spearheaded by LUMA founder and billionaire Maja Hoffmann (the foundation’s name is a portmanteau of the first part of her children’s names Lucas and Marina). The tower, designed by Canadian-American architect Frank Gehry, seems to climb upward, twisting and turning as it stretches toward the sky. The building’s 11,000 reflective stainless steel panels spectacularly transform the building over the course of a day: It blends into a bright blue sky at noontime, gilds itself in the late afternoon, and twinkles as the sun sets. The style is unmistakably Gehry, with the sweeping, brushstroke-like lines and playful design cues that have become a hallmark of the dean of contemporary architecture.

The building has its detractors—Gehry’s initial plans were rejected as “threats” to the city’s archaeological sites, and some Arlesians have complained that the imposition of the angular, metallic tower is an affront to the stucco-and-stone charm of the village below. In a report from Vanity Fair’s French edition, a local townsperson said, roughly translated, “Those who are annoyed by this arrogance dub it ‘the beer can.’” But according to the 92-year-old architect, the design is intended to “evoke the local”: Its rippling exterior draws on Van Gogh’s Starry Night, while the tower’s central atrium pays homage to Arles’ Roman amphitheater. Local officials hope that Arles will see a “Bilbao effect,” and be rejuvenated like that Spanish city was after the Gehry-designed Guggenheim Museum opened there in 1997.

There is good architecture out there, Louis Sullivan’s incorporation of the steel structure into skyscrapers comes to mind, but has technology has loosened constraints on buildings, some in the profession have gone off the deep end.

If I am in Arles, I’ll probably have lunch in the building, but only because it is the only place in the city where you cannot see this monstrosity.

I Haz a Sad

I just discovered the fate of the Westgate theater in Beaverton Oregon. It was demolished in 2006.

It was an early multiplex, just three screens, and its largest theater seated over 1,000.

It was also where I first saw Star Wars, and where I first saw The Empire Strikes Back.

It has an interesting role in the lore of Star Wars.

By dint of the demographics of Portland, which obligated both the theater and the studio to continue to show the film until attendance dropped below a certain level, the film was shown, in 70mm on a huge screen, for over 2½ years.

For a much of this time, which was before the time of video rentals and the rise of the VCR, it was the only theater to have carried the film since initial release, and for some of this time, it was probably the only screen in the US showing the form.

When the theatrical re-release happened, the chain owning the theater (IIRC Luxury Theaters) put the film on just about every screen in the area, and it finally stopped running the film.

Before this, any number of Portlanders, myself included, saw Star Wars many many times.

If I were within 200 miles of Portland, I would have driven there to see The Force Awakens.

………

Today, the biggest movies are released on thousands of screens across the country. In large cities, you have at least a dozen theaters to pick from, and most of those are multiplexes showing it on multiple screens. Not only that, you can go just about any time you want, since cinema chains open around noon every day of the week. A few summers ago, The Dark Knight Rises was easily the most anticipated movie of the year, yet the day after its premiere, my daughter and I were able to waltz into the theater ten minutes before it started and had our choice of the best seats.

………

Now let’s climb into my time machine and transport back to 1977. If you weren’t around back then, you might be surprised to learn the biggest movies opened in only one or two theaters in town – ‘exclusive engagements’ – giving the impression you were privileged they were playing near you at all. And back then, theaters showed matinees only on weekends. Monday through Friday, the box office never opened ’till around 7:00 PM. Not only that, there was no such thing as home video, meaning if you didn’t catch a movie on the big screen, it might be years before you saw it on TV. So to see a blockbuster movie usually meant waiting in line.

But Star Wars wasn’t simply a blockbuster. It was the mother of all blockbusters, arriving with huge fanfare at only one theater in the Portland area, the Westgate Tri-Cinema, located in the suburb of Beaverton. Since literally everyone wanted to see it (except my dad, who never liked sci-fi in any way, shape or form), this meant there was one 1000-seat auditorium to placate over a million people in the metropolitan area.

I can’t speak for how other cities’ theaters handled the demand for Star Wars in ’77, but at the Westgate, even three months after it premiered (mainly because it took that long to talk Dad into going), we were still required to wait in a massive line to buy tickets, then wait in an entirely different line in get into the theater itself, a total of about two hours (during which time Dad was getting increasingly pissed). It was worth the wait, of course, not only because Star Wars more-than lived up to the hype, but because the Westgate itself was a wonderful place, with huge auditoriums, gigantic screens and plush, luxurious, rocking seats.

………

Regarding the aforementioned connection between Star Wars and my hometown of Portland…as I said before, it premiered as an exclusive engagement at the Westgate, which enjoyed long lines of eager fans. After roughly eight months, it expanded into multiple theaters in town. Then after all the Star Wars hype began to dissipate, the film continued to play at the Westgate, over a year-and-a-half after its initial release. In fact, the Westgate was the only theater in all of North America still showing the film. And there were Star Wars zealots flying to Portland from all over the world, just so they could check-out the movie on the big screen one more time.

I feel the same way.

Someone in the Bowels of Bureaucracy has a Sick Sense of Humor

The new headquarters of the Department of Homeland Security used to be an insane asylum:

Washington D.C. is often used as a backdrop for tales of idiosyncratic power (Veep, House of Cards, Homeland, 24, Newsroom, The West Wing, just to name a few) and why not? The architecture’s symbolism and ideology can be matched only by the cynicism and suspicion these structures inspire. So therefore it seems somehow fitting that DC’s next major addition, the Headquarters for the Department of Homeland Security (DHS), will be perched on a hilltop just across the Anacostia River, physically and gesturally overseeing all before it.

Yet beyond maintaining constant visuals on the terrain, this headquarters represents a change in the city’s views on temporality, functionality and even irony. Because this is a space with a past, one it both embraces and fears.

The Ghost Across the River
In 2007, the announcement came that a long abandoned former mental institution was to be renovated in order to create a headquarters for the DHS (the agency which oversees immigration, customs, border control and the secret service, along with several other federal functions). Aside from sounding like the plot to a bad action/horror movie, the site was a bit of an odd-duck: an enormous campus, fifteen minutes drive from the White House and full of old buildings barely anyone had ever heard of. For its own part, St. Elizabeths Hospital was founded in the 1850s as “The Government Hospital for the Insane”, hosting generations of doctors, nurses and patients. Some of which having been infamously linked to the powerful of DC, including: Ezra Pound, brought there on charges of treason in 1945; John Hinckley Jr., for shooting President Reagan in bizarre attempt to impress actress Jodie Foster in 1981; Richard Lawrence, who attempted to shoot President Andrew Jackson in 1835, failed, and was then beaten mercilessly by the President himself and Charles Guiteau, after killing President Garfield in 1881.

I am amused, but not particularly surprised.

Concept of the Day

Edifice Complex:

Term coined by the lawyer and historian Professor Cyril Northcote Parkinson in Parkinson’s Law: The Pursuit of Progress, London (John Murray 1958, Houghton Mifflin, 1962) referring to the tendency of successful organizations to build new headquarters just before they begin to decline. See New Headquarters/Office Syndrome, Shiny; Business Week, Curse of.

I’m beginning to think that this has the germ of an investment strategy.