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.