The value of conceiving criticism in this way, it seems to me, is that it allows for and acknowledges that certain buildings and projects may be perfectly elegant or beautiful solutions to perfectly trivial questions (think Meier’s tower on Grand Army Plaza) and, conversely, that there may be difficult or unsuccessful designs which nevertheless engage questions that have much greater relevance or significance to the values the critic prizes. Because criticism is perforce a statement of values; it is in that sense that criticism is at root a utopian venture and a bully pulpit. If we weren’t interested in remaking the world it wouldn’t matter much what we said about it.

In this vein, it is also important, from time to time, to write about bad buildings and failed projects, to use them as counter-exemplars and to explicate what it is in their design and realization that makes them a negative standard. This is difficult for a profession bred on the false politesse of ‘if you don’t have anything good to say, don’t say anything’. We need to understand what makes bad buildings bad, and what the steady accretion of poorly conceived, boring, venal and badly built projects does to our cities and our souls. We need to name names. Or else, give up altogether.

There is also an element of time in all this; Henry A. Millon, one of the best critical historians of his generation, used to say that history could not be written before 50 years had passed, the implication being that the circumstances which frame a project’s gestation could not themselves be looked at historically until a certain contemporaneous reverberation had dissipated. The prerequisite of history is distance and a consequent lack of immediate familiarity; context must become strange again, or more precisely, we must become estranged from it, for the methods of historical analysis to be deployed. By this standard we are only just able to begin to analyze the projects of the 1960’s, to look seriously at Saarinen’s TWA terminal for example. And, in fact, this is exactly what is happening, the Museum of the City of New York’s revisionist Saarinen exhibition and the current reappraisals of Rudolph and Stone following by a few years the welter of texts and exhibitions that had us look afresh at the icons of the previous decade, Lever House and the Seagram Building, etc. (to look only within the limits of Manhattan for examples).

Criticism of course is but the first draft of history, not the thing itself. It is journalistic in the original Latin/Francophone sense of the word — ‘of today.’ Its historical aspirations, such as they are, can only be to serve as the raw material of some future, more dispassionate, analysis. But in exchange criticism can — must — make full claim to passion, to the convictions, enthusiasms and biases that animate discussion today, now, in full understanding that once our passions are spent they too will become the subject of more broadly contextual and quieter historical methods. Deprived of any pretense to history, criticism has nothing left but bias: without bias criticism is worthless.

This is the sixth in an ongoing series of posts that ponder the state of architecture criticism. To read all posts on this topic, please click here.

As with all review and opinion pieces posted on Urban Omnibus, the views expressed are those of the author only and do not reflect the position of Urban Omnibus editorial staff or the Architectural League of New York.

Stephen Rustow is the founding principal of SRA/Museoplan, a consulting practice working with arts institutions and design professionals on the presentation of cultural collections.  An architect and urban planner, he is also a Professor of Architecture at Cooper Union and has written criticism for Praxis, JSAH and other publications. He lives in Manhattan.

The first issue, the insecurity of the landscape/architecture professions, is a relatively recent phenomenon, beginning with the fallout from Modernism. In his seminal essay “Whatever happened to Urbanism?” Koolhaas gave voice to an unsettling feeling that had been haunting practitioners since it became apparent that modernist architecture was not the panacea it claimed and not as important as it supposed. Forced to confront superfluity in a single generation, the critical discourse within the profession took up defensive positions to weather the storm.

The second issue is more ingrained; the mystification and resultant inaccessibility of the intellectual aspect of the landscape/architecture professions.  Design pedagogy is defined according to processes of exclusivity: design methods and forms are understood as too sophisticated to be either fully comprehended, funded, or implemented by its constituents. And academic discourse is presented as too complex and profound to be undertaken or appreciated by the plebeians. For this reason, the majority of practitioners have abdicated their responsibility to contribute to the contemporary discourse within the professions.  It is currently dominated by writers and theoreticians with no foundation in praxis.

As a result, the critical discourse has become a series of self-catalyzing memes and hyperbolic metaphors characterized by a forced focus on concept and cult of personality. Only projects deemed exemplary according to a conservative set of values (standards of beauty, economic viability, social popularity) are discussed and then largely in a laudatory tone. This is not healthy criticism.

The landscape does not need an apologist. The implicit meanings do not need to be spelled out and given voice, and we do not need to know if the design decisions meet the approval criteria of the author. In recent decades, a generation of design practitioners and writers have taken to conceptualizing a site, wrapping it up tightly in a metaphor (or series of them), and then narrating the argument to us. Marc Treib argues the impotence of this stance was argued persuasively in an essay titled “Must Landscapes Mean?”*

Meaning accrues over time; like respect, it is earned, not granted. While the designer yearns to establish a landscape that will acquire significance, it is not possible to use pat symbols alone as a means to transmute syntax into semantics, that is, tectonics into meanings… differences in culture, in education, in life experience, in our experience of nature will all modify our perception of the work of landscape architecture… We cannot make that place mean, but we can, I hope, instigate reactions to the place that fall within the desired confines of happiness, gloom, joy, contemplation, or delight.

After addressing these two issues, the question becomes what should contemporary criticism focus on? If the purpose of professional criticism is not to explain a project but to make the work better, then there are four areas of focus of contemporary criticism: political process, cultural context, a focus on criticism through time, and polemics.

First, the political process; instead of remaining enamored with the cult of personality, the designer’s thoughts and views should always be presented within the larger context of all of the players in a project. Without exception the significant designers of our time are experts at negotiating the political intrigues inherent in public agencies, affluent clients, vocal constituents, and marginalized communities. This dynamic will always influence a project and the criticism should acknowledge and examine this.

Second, the cultural context – historical, scientific, technological, social and popular – should be present in criticism. This can be implied or explicit but it should be present. It is this perspective that will help to frame the discussion around sustainability, changing it from a tactic that is essentially a marketing tool for designers, developers, politicians, and manufacturers, to a logical argument and thoughtful discussion. If the intellectual context surrounding the implementation of an initiative were more thorough and critical the project could be examined more honestly for effectiveness and appropriateness.

Third, criticism for a project should take place through time. How a place changes over the course of a day, through the seasons, and across a number of years should be considered. The conventional approach is largely the fault of shortsighted editors placing a focus on narrow definitions of timely and relevant in order to drum up readership for their publication. Criticism of a project should absolutely not be limited to opening day, a date set by political and economic agendas.  Andrew Blum stated this sentiment in his essay “In Praise of Slowness” and Elizabeth Meyer’s essay “Slow Landscapes”* is a good example of a more thoughtful type of criticism.

Fourth, all landscape/architecture criticism should be polemical. The High Line is an exceptional project – extremely expensive, complicated, and high profile.  That it has gotten a free pass from the critics, Jacky Bowring’s critique notwithstanding, is a huge disservice to the professional community. Every project, at various stages and according to metrics deemed appropriate by different editors, should be examined and questioned. As a profession, we gain nothing by constantly patting the same people (and by extension, ourselves) on the back for a job well done. Designers know that no project is perfect.  Self-righteous celebration is not the job of criticism within the profession. There is a place for that, and it is with the lobbyists, apologists and at times the popular media.

Ultimately, criticism exists to make the work better, always better. If the discourse can include more voices – practitioners, writers, and academics – all questioning and examining thoughtfully and professionally, we can get at the interesting aspects, stories, intrigues, and facts.  If we can get past our fixation on metaphor, concept and style, landscape/architectural criticism will function as a feedback loop with the design process to better the work of designing the built environment.

This is the fifth in an ongoing series of posts that ponder the state of architecture criticism. To read all posts on this topic, please click here.


Sources Cited:

* “Must Landscapes Mean?” by Marc Treib Landscape Journal. 14(1):46-62 (1995)

** “Slow Landscapes: A New Erotics of Sustainability,” by Elizabeth K. Meyer, Harvard Design Magazine, Vol. 31, Fall/Winter 2009/10, p. 22-31.

As with all review and opinion pieces posted on Urban Omnibus, the views expressed are those of the author only and do not reflect the position of Urban Omnibus editorial staff or the Architectural League of New York.

FASLANYC works as a landscape architect for an urban design firm in New York City. He also writes the landscape criticism blog faslanyc and contributes to other design journals with features focusing on urban projects in South America.

In the Twitter forum, our discussion focused on shared space, urban decorum and contextual appropriateness. Here’s a summary of the event and what we discussed followed by some commentary on the use of social media, like Twitter, to allow truly public discussion of public space.

SHARABLE SPACE
Our Dutch guests raised the prospect of sharing of a space between cars and pedestrians without any sidewalk edges, bollards, painted lines, and traffic cones. This concept goes so clearly against American assumptions and its traffic engineers’ advice that it seemed useful for clearing the ground for a fresh start. Tweeters questioned if a shared space could emerge from the dominant fabric of urban America. If implemented, at least in New York City, the feeling was that pedestrians would take over; another thought presented was that the real determinant would be the volume of cars or pedestrians. We also heard that shared space could work if pedestrians were given priority by slowing down the cars in that space. In different ways, participants stated that if the space was truly perceived as shared then the space was in fact sharable. We then asked if it this concept was particularly applicable in certain parts of the city. If so the Meatpacking District (MPD) might be particularly well suited to such treatment.

URBAN DECORUM
The appropriate treatment for public spaces in the city was another extensively discussed subject. It stemmed from Erik de Jong’s example of lounge chairs being recently added to the newly pedestrianized section of Broadway at Times Square. Lacking “urban decorum”, he said, and more appropriate to park or suburban use. Whether or not such a concept is fertile for the treatment of urban space, it immediately brings up if any kind of decorum is desired and whether it is to be brought about by the design, as that of the type of furniture for example. Sexual transgressive behavior in public is the obverse of “urban decorum,” and the point was raised if it too was to be limited by legislation and design. There is a long history of such behavior in cities, associated in different periods with different types of spaces such as parks, dancing venues, bars, promenades, red light districts. Here, the definition of what is considered transgressive was missing, but there were those who considered that this question will have different answers for different age groups. This in turn brought to the fore a larger social point, that this space exists in a larger social context that it cannot ignore. Or, at times, escape: one participant saw public spaces reproduced by the power structure to ensure the order of the existing social infrastructure.

APPROPRIATENESS
This led to the larger topic that took over the tweets about what is fitting to a particular city section. And whether there should be a fit. The example of the MPD is a case in point, a neighborhood with an industrial character, grey concrete, grey cobblestones, metal structures (e.g. meat hooks on conveyors under metal canopies). Should its future design carry this forward? Yet the MPD’s industrial grittiness also contains a new and handsome, if somewhat prettified linear park, the High Line, and is near to a sports-oriented linear park, the Hudson River Parkway. These parks have, in turn, have brought about new buildings by modern architects who are using new materials or using old materials differently. The MPD could be kept in the vestments of its market origins or could adopt modern elements of the present. Its context is certainly doing so. Many new European public spaces were mentioned. The discussion brought about several calls for simplicity, not overdesigning, nor making the design obvious and self‐conscious. And this was accompanied by calls for enormous diversity in the use of the space. The variety of programs mentioned provoked several responses. On the one hand, this went against simplicity. On the other hand the extensive list of temporary art exhibits, theatre or music performance spaces; sitting, shady spaces; places to eat without having to go to a restaurant, congregating spaces, plug‐in internet spaces – the contemporary wish list – makes a full pan ply of objects creep in. Nearly the death of public space can be the result of this. My own plea is one of focusing design on the shaping of the space, not on the objects for its programs.

CRITIQUE OF THE MEDIUM
What I found of greatest value in Twitter was that it allows non‐hierarchical comments; it did not become a debate of stars. At first glance, the tweets seem chaotic. They are written quickly, on the spur of the moment, in real time, and are only 140 characters long, so the language is cryptic. But it picks up on the inherent tendency of English for plain brevity.

Above all, Twitter diminishes the gulf between speaker and audience. It increases participation by making everyone a speaker. It also eliminates the gulf between professional and public, allowing crisscrossing paths for common concerns (though the crossing may still be cumbersome). There are technical difficulties too: Twitter does not include images (only links) yet no conversation on design or public space can succeed completely without them. Tweeters in the room and out in the world are in different situations; those in the room see the people and things, but are more likely to fall back into a passive role as audience. Those tweeting from afar may have time gaps, making them feel remote and disconnected. A tweeter in China complained that it was too early in his day. Remote tweeters may become impatient with the pace of the insiders who have more things to observe. A better interface for both, with visuals, is needed to allow everyone to see a drawing being made, in house or out. But it is a good start.

Forum hosted by Diana Balmori + Balmori Associates + Erik de Jong
With Guests: Architect Joel Sanders, Arnold Van del Valk and Annie Washburn
Forum Organization and Production: Monica Hernandez, Noemie Lafaurie-Debany & Sangmok Kim
Photography: Jeffrey Debany
Video: Nicoleta Coman

Diana Balmori, founding principal of Balmori Associates, brings a breadth of experience in architecture, urban design, landscape
architecture, ecology, architectural history and sustainability to her New York-based landscape urban design office. She is recognized internationally for her innovative work in the field of landscape and urban design.  She teaches at the Yale School of Architecture and the Yale School of Forestry and Environmental Studies and has recently been appointed a Senior Fellow in Garden and Landscape Studies at Dumbarton Oaks Research Library in Washington, D.C.  She serves on the U.S. Commission of Fine Arts in Washington, D.C.