Hip-Hop and the Highline: Marketing Landscape Urbanism

Landscape urbanism, much like the phenomenological rise of hip-hop, has been gaining an amassed popularity through the proliferation of cable tv, the internet, as well as the creative marketing of branded consumer goods. An area of practice that embodies the potential to expand across and beyond our aging urban centres promises to transform the post-industrial city into a more organically derived and spontaneous "living system". However, the resulting dissolution of city into landscape may have an equal and opposite reaction against the evolution of our cities. To continue without further study, landscape urbanism has the potential to be implemented with reckless abandon and with impunity in a social and cultural climate that craves a contemporary and edgy solution to the dogma of streamlined human colonization.

It's "media-driven exposure" not only allows local designers to take this theoretical framework and regionalize it (as was done at the Viaduct Daumesnil, France), but more importantly expand the culture making it a palatable strategy for civic and corporate entities throughout the modern world. "Voids" or "constructions" of inner-city neighbourhoods have evolved as a byproduct of the organizational and territorial evolution of the industrial revolution (assembly line process) - a utopic future vision achieved through the maddening pursuit of mechanically driven technological innovation. These spaces that offer what James Corner refers to as "potential action" have, arguably, become targets envisioned as a panacea for an evolving paradigmatic shift in urban planning. These "hot zones" are increasingly considered more capable of delivering an enhanced urban experience in a new cityscape organized around natural and ecological systems. While most projects remain suspended in the conceptual and theoretical world of design competitions, the High Line - Phase 2 of which is currently being constructed in New York City - remains one of the few current examples of this urban theoretical paradigm.

As cities develop new methods and codes of social convention emerge - thereby regulating the relationship between urban stakeholders and the performative patterns of its users - we will see a slow but progressive change in the way that these codes manifest themselves in the built regimes of land-use organization. Like the emergence of hip-hop music, this evolution is being planned and designed for with an open-ended, yet very strategic approach.

Already we have seen the continued and hyper-advertised programming of the High Line since its grand opening. Permanent, temporary, and performance works of art abound. Lectures and educational programming have also seen an increase in attendance due to the flexible use of this public open space. The emergence of such provisional social patterns of use are precisely the more salable elements of such provisional space that appeals to an increasingly urban population. Alliances that are formed during the population of such urban surfaces speak to the anarchic and more identifiable tendencies of such a (re)public.

A layering of environment, living systems, and the man-made engrain a new direction of city planning and organization in the modern human psyche. Seen as the "total spatial and visual entity of human living space" landscape urbanism seeks to reach out and connect with an audience that is discerning, empathic and compassionate, and at the same time susceptible to and heavily influenced by a popularized majority.

As the likes of Eminem and Vanilla Ice provided the ultimate catalyst for the proliferation of hip-hop culture, so too shall the "Friends of the High Line" seek to provide the ultimate catalyst for landscape urbanism. However, it strikes me that the biggest potential for the mass acculturation of landscape urbanism goes "beyond the music". Societal shifts are ready to ensure the corporate acceptance of such "fashion" or "street promotion", igniting the overall mainstream acceptance of the culture.

If the "HIgh Line Shop" is any indication, the consumption of such a landscape urbanist culture is led by corporatized acceptance, and a pursuance of its culture for "market capitalization". Design firms, perhaps even entire cities seeking to stay culturally relevant may now see "landscape urbanism", like hip hop, as the answer to many, if not all of their problems. The effect of infusing landscape urbanism into the brand is self evident.

If Reebok has painted itself into a corner choosing now to be a lifestyle brand rather than a sports brand, you cannot argue with its current success . . . the brand has made a dramatic positioning shift in recent years. With Jay-Z and 50 Cent replacing athletic stars as lead pitchmen, the brand has never been hotter . . . Up and coming brands like Glaceau's Vitamin Water . . . recently began using 50 Cent as a primary pitchman, even giving him his signature line of water, called "Formula 50." Sales from companies using hip-hop culture as a marketing tool aren't driven by New York, Chicago and Los Angeles; they are driven by Middle America becoming fully integrated to the culture. While politically we are a nation split among "red states" and "blue states," for youth, hip hop is the unifying force that corporations are calling on to drive sales.

Is there any cause for concern? As the processes and approach to colonization fade to a reversal of such traditions of settlement and city building, do we run the risk of achieving an environment aesthetically different but not dissimilar in function to the once revered homogenistic layout of the Industrial Revolution? As the hip-hop appeal emerged from the gritty environs of the inner city to find an untapped fan base in the middle and upper classes of society, so to may landscape urbanism provide a hybrid urbanism in a more ecologically balanced but popular "natural" ecology. Unfortunately, it may only be then that we find a highly commercialized and replicable form that emphasizes profit over all else - slowly eroding the promise of a more heteropic cityscape. Social justice and equity - arguably the foundations of a purist's urbanity - are not only not addressed, but risk exploitation.

I worry, also, for the future of such noveau well-documented spaces praised only by a hyper-theoretical and over-intellectualized public. Is landscape urbanism simply our most recognizable, albeit theoretical panacea to the post-industrial revolution, destined to remain a preliminary experiment barely off the shelves and in need of further ground-truthing? Will suburbanites find a sudden urge to forgo the pleasures afforded to them, or will they simply be willing to pay a further premium to occasion such urban spectacles. The merchandising of the High Line, arguably, moves its achievements further from its potential for social, civic, and infrastructural change, by simply lowering itself to the lowest common denominator - the almighty gr$$nback.

Long Island City: 'The Choice of a New Generation'

Behind one of the more iconic symbols left standing on the shores of Queens lies the ever-expanding urban-scape and waterfront community of Long Island City. Facing to the East River away from Long Island City, and thus more well-known to Manhattanites than the residents in Queens, the Pepsi sign serves as an historic, yet contemporary marker that pays homage to a newly completed phase of Gantry Plaza State Park - Queen's West Stage 2 - signifying the areas transformation for a 'new generation' of urban dwellers.

Completed last summer, the park extends the greenway programming another 6 acres further north along the waterfront. Unfortunately the current maintenance - or lack thereof - does not reflect the park's more recent glossy marketing photos. Typical issues of landscape construction aside, there exist a plethora of exciting opportunities for a variety of programs throughout. The patterning and layout of materials appear to reflect Long Island City's reputation for 'getting places'. Circuitously organic circulation routes and the diversity of surface materials seem to recall the thousands of nomadic commuters and visitors who travel though it every day.

Shedding the industry of it's recent and historical past, Gantry Plaza State Park brings NYC one step closer to providing a continuous waterfront greenway system. Holding true to its reputation as a City that always does things "bigger", a large promenade, wooden pier with both formal and informal seating, and a large (future) children's play area the park delivers in its introduction of both hammocks and adirondack (lounge) chairs. Such features are a welcome addition to public space as an amenity that reflects a cultural and societal behaviour once relegated to the private space of one's backyard.

Although removed (I suspect) during the winter months it is likely that users will be vying for 'pole position' during the warmer climes of summer. Inserted within a large, continuous swath of seaside/tidal marsh grasses are bright red adirondack chairs that offer some privacy in a largely open and voyeuristic landscape. Although a restrained use of colour, their objecthood in relation to the surroundings ensures their place not as architectural objects but objects of space - mediating a dialogue between cultures of both gastronomic and landscape consumption. A perforation in the hard edge of the East River's waterfront reveals a constructed wetland that creates a threshold and moment of pause along the promenade that appears to address treatment of both the site's surface drainage as well as that of the East River. At the same time, there is certainty of added habitat value restored to this once industrial waterfront.

While it's museums, mix of existing and gentrifying neighbourhoods, and overall quality of life - accompanied by it's accessibility to and from the City proper - draw residents from near and far. The streets appear oversized and largely absent of store-front (human) activity. This is certainly the result of a current lack of services within the immediate environs of LIC's glossy new residences. A neighbourhood ahead of its time in many regards, it seems to give priority to a healthy investment in public open space. Much like a soft drink can re-envision itself and promise a brighter future with minimalist design, so too can a City rewrite its history in a post-industrial landscape that responds and adapts to the needs of its growing citizenry. Arguably, Gantry Plaza State Park continues to 'Hit the Spot'.

(Chico Macmurtrie)

No Good LEED Goes Unpunished

(LEED Categories of Assessment)

Sustainability may be defined as the "potential for long-term maintenance and well-being [and a] capacity to endure" - an ability to sustain 'in place'. However, one of our most widely accepted and endorsed measures of sustainability relies upon the pervasive and universal use use of quantifiable data. LEED effectively conceives of our built environments 'in space'. Ironically, a rating system that succeeds on measurement against a generic, placeless environment effectively fails in it's lacking of any environment.

Ignoring uniqueness and genus loci, the suitability of design as it relates to place is institutionally swept aside in a consumptive effort to achieve a place on the LEED podium - bronze, silver, gold and in this global competition, platinum. Arguably, the addition of green systems to environments that do not need them is costly and wasteful. Also, such measures can often lead to a decrease in actual performance despite earned points on an assessments scorecard. A double-edged sword of sorts, LEED's strength as a universal application is also it's most egregious weakness. Sadly in a world of marketable ideas and quantifiable progress, a more sustainable approach may very well be lost to a more sale-able and semantically palatable unit of measure.

There are alternatives, however, forging new territory and providing hope for a more holistic system of accreditation. The Living Building Challenge (LBC) Standard, the Living Building Leader program, and changes to LEED itself have recently brought a sweeping rise of professionals seeking accreditation. Similar to what might be considered degree inflation, new LEED APs require additional testing and face increased costs a result. Arguably a more favourable and practical approach to sustainable design is that of the LBC v2.0 produced by the International Living Building Institute (ILBI). An "evolving tool" this new and increasingly popular standard seeks to move beyond the hermetic preclusions, and exclusions, of LEED to include a host of both infrastructure and landscape issues that combine to reflects more holistic approach to green design.

Eschewing the perpetuation of more built environments that perform only within the rigid measures of 'space', the LBC and other alternatives offer hope for the design of living structures and systems that are grounded in 'place'; reflecting a new ethos of spatial design and systems science that moves beyond 'Green' to include a much broader, more colourful spectrum of sustainability.

Assemblage of Parts: Public Space the IKEA Way

(Author Unknown)

With the bitter winds of winter seeking any amount of bare skin to adhere to, I recently made my way to one of Brooklyn's more recent public acquisitions of waterfront access. Erie Basin Park - finished in the summer of 2008 - was constructed as part of the new IKEA retail outlet situated within the Red Hook neighbourhood. Resembling a corporate cultures description of nature - "full of light and fresh air, yet restrained and unpretentious" - the new park offers a "wide range of well-designed, functional furnishings". So close to IKEA's constructed living environments and, perhaps, an homage to the stunning vision of Ingvar Kamprad, Erie Basin Park reveals itself in a manner that is didactic overtly literal.

(Annulla's Photostream)

Although the designer's surely possessed a similar vision to that of the IKEA founder - of intentions to "create a better everyday life for the many people" who visit this park - I find myself cold (despite the brilliant sunshine), alone, and seeking cover from the brazen winds that appear to keeping anyone but the avid shopper - commuting via the new water taxi service - from wandering this forlorn park. Nearly a mile-long stretch of waterfront esplanade - built and paid for by Ikea in return for a rezoning agreement that traded heavy manufacturing for retail use - begrudgingly returns to the public a version of the site's history it has displaced. An optimistic statement about Brooklyn’s future connection to the remainder of its waterfront, many of the site's features resemble that of manufactured tombstones that are less well-designed than they are poorly produced - strikingly similar to the the bright colourful objects one might find on the shelfs of IKEA only steps away.

An esplanade that heralds the historic shipyard’s maritime flavor is, perhaps, best exemplified in the galvalume wall that separates the 'blue-box' store from the park, likely essential to the plan's mitigation of public-private space. A colourful and abstracted montage that, from a distance, resembles the stacked assemblage of freight containers provides a visually stunning backdrop that serves to mask the vehicular parking entrance, brings the scale of the building down to grade, and competes with the iconically branded store colours of the IKEA brand. The animated shadows of the leafless trees dance across this staged backdrop making up for the lack of performative programming during 'winter hours'.

Nearly as stunning - at least during the late-day glow of the falling sun - is the creative use of the site's 'chocks' to mask the parking lots from the waterfront. Affixed with the names of ships that were once repaired here, the missing (metallic) letters that have been pried from their memorial location is evidence of the more 'natural ecologies' of this park, and a testament to the nature of our time. Other more successful and subtle attempts at preservation are evidenced in the stone-block outline that reveals itself throughout the site, breaking the monotony and expanse of asphalt and at the same time demarcating the original walls of the 700-foot-long graving (dry) dock. Unfortunately the recurring motif of crisscrossing lines throughout - apparently inspired by shadows cast from masts of ships - strikes me as more of an afterthought that is visually confusing and likely more symbolic of IKEA's 'knotty' role as the private owner of a public park.

Most iconic in the designs reference to the industrial past of the Todd Shipyards are the four gantry cranes, stationed across the site. Perhaps erected to pay tribute to the others that were abandoned at the bottom of the basin - too consumed by nature to be preserved - there are a number of 'tee-pee-like' steel structures that host signage at strategic points of wayfinding. Unfortunately these, again, appear to be more of an overly abstracted reference to an industrial history that more resembles a pile of steel kindling waiting to be lit; as if marking the way for ships attempting to navigate the coastline of New Amsterdam.

The park is both impressive and lonely. Despite being ahead of its time and lacking in its 'product development' there is an eery quietness, perhaps monumental-like quality to this place. While there is no overtly oppressive resistance to public occupation of this park - in fact, I believe it makes economic sense to be highly encouraged - through regular policing, there is no question that this park is more public now than it has ever been. Commanding stunning views of New York's working waterfront, providing a supportive amenity to the water-taxi service, and serving its place in a long-term plan to provide continuous waterfront access throughout the burrough and beyond, the public is left to ponder the 'improvements' to the site's inherited past. Now that they have a public space "product at a price so low that as many people as possible will be able to enjoy it", only they may decide if such products are of equal value to a zoning change that has delivered another big blue box.