A Place for Everyone

Last week as we explored the topic of monuments the problem was raised of the many city halls that, despite their dazzling architecture, are widely underused. These public buildings wouldn’t be the first choice for a public protest aimed to capture the public’s attention. The spaces we are utilizing in actuality seem to have one thing in common: they host seemingly shallow activities like, namely shopping and sporting events.  These spaces are built upon commercial principles, which undoubtedly influence the design that is necessitated. This leads me to wonder, as architecture is becoming increasingly centered around promoting and supporting consumerism, are the design requirements of these public, capitalist-serving spaces enhancing architecture or hurting it? Does or can consumerism with its shallow and largely class-specific agenda inspire good architecture?

Malls, boutiques and sports complexes have achieved something over many of the underused spaces we read about previously in that they are full of activity and life and they ought to be. The enormous budget set for these buildings is predicated on producing gigantic revenue. We see architecture being impacted by this model in that the building’s design is expected to achieve our capitalist goals. These directly impact the floor plan in the case of the mall, “’too direct and obvious route between the entrance and exists must be avoided’ (Goss, 1993:32). The idea is to construct a narrative which draws the shopper through maximum consumption opportunities.” (Sklair, 142). Leslie Sklair introduces the concept of developing new iconography as the values of our culture and the focus has become acquiring possessions.  Will that new iconography serve architecture well or should we be railing against this shift, trying to promote more intellectual motivations for the creation of iconic buildings? It seems a losing battle to wage when those in positions of power and influence are well served by the consumerist model. Likewise, turning a culture’s prevailing attitude around seems a ginormous undertaking.

Sklair very briefly touches on the ideal of a “built environment in which the full array of human talents can be given free reign” (Skalir, 154). But unfortunately, capitalist values do not support this vision:

In many cities the appeal of the mall is precisely the promise of some protection form urban crime. Such promise can be built into the design of buildings. For example, it is difficult to enter the exclusive Daslu department store in Sao Paulo, Brazil on foot – the obvious entrances are the parking garages (where valet parking is about one third of the weekly minimum wage) and the helipad on the roof (Sao Paulo, one of the ‘poorest’ cities in the world is said to have the second highest proportion of private helicopter ownership per capita of any major city) (Sklai, 148).

This model promotes restricted use. Shiny steel and expansive glass windows serve only as a mirage of openness to all that does not exist. IF you’re not a shopper with cash to spend you’re decidedly unwelcome in these “public” spaces. The same an be said for boutiques. Prada and Selfridges, a department store, employed “stararchitects” to create iconic buildings to market their brand. In fact, in the case of Selfridges, the building’s image was used on the store’s credit cards. This element of marketing the building is essential in the process of creating recognizable, iconic architecture. But why is this well-known architecture relegated to luxury boutiques with such high levels of discrimination. At these locales outsiders are made to feel inadequate and uncomfortable by sales clerks if, god forbid, these people don’t appear to fit the “luxe” agenda. I would love to see great design for buildings infused with genuine and robust public life; building’s that are inclusive and not driven solely by the principles of capitalism.