Can Icons Always Remain Iconic?

            In reading Even Smith Wergeland’s “When Icons Crumble—The Troubled Legacy of Olympic Design,” I began to wonder what happens to iconic architecture when it is no longer used or is abandoned, or it is used for a different purpose. Does it lose its iconicity? Take for example some of the complexes that have been built for Olympic games in specific cities that now have become ruins. Lots of time and money was spent to create a memorable structure — or structures — that would rival any that came before it. With the eyes of the world watching, these structures would bring honor and recognition not only to the games but to the host city as well. Millions attended and watched the games, while marveling at the venues that showed architecture prowess. While the games lasted, and while there was still an audience, the architecture remained iconic. What happens then when the audience leaves? Does the icon remain even after it is no longer part of daily life?

            According to Mr. Wergeland, “empty Olympic sports complexes lose their iconicity when they cease to be used.” He is referring to those that have become derelict and therefore its “architectural design features [are] robbed of the context that initiated them.” I take this to mean that if there is no audience—or better yet no end user—then there is no icon. I read somewhere that “a truly iconic structure creates its reputation and image from the effect it has on people.” Then for a structure to be “truly iconic” it requires the audience’s interpretation in order to define what makes it so. The architecture alone does not make an icon.

            When I think about the Millennium Park, and many other examples we have explored so far this semester, I can see how true this statement is. And it makes sense. Buildings, and parks, are built for people. When done well, there’s a mutual beneficial relationship. In the case of Millennium Park, its success is attributed to how its audience/end-users make use of it. There is so much to do at the park, that it is visited often in almost every season.

Magical artworks, a delightful cafe, theaters, an outdoor concert venue, a world-class art museum next door … inventive gardens, an ever-changing pool for wading and running, a bike rental pavilion — the list of delights seems endless…

Developers of the park have created an iconic park but would it still be iconic if the visitors had had a different response? The area around the park has become gentrified. The price of real estate has increased with the demand for housing nearby the park increasing. What if that didn’t happen? Would Millennium Park still be iconic if it attracted the opposite result, a negative response?

            This brings me to my last point. I think of all the money spent in building the derelict Olympic sport complexes and wonder if they have truly lost their iconicity? Although abandoned and forgotten, perhaps their iconicity still stands but with a different meaning.

Landmarks: Vibrant Locations vs. Abandoned Eyesores

There are some key factors that contribute to the rise of a public work to the status of a landmark with true usefulness within a city framework. Chicago’s Millennium Park is an example of an urban park that has achieved great success and inspired investment and growth into the city of Chicago. It can be considered a landmark and a successful one at that. However, less successful projects like Athen’s “OAKA” (Olimpiako Athlitiko Kentro Athinon) sports complex beg the question, what makes one public project successful over another?

Let us first explore what makes Millennium Park such a beloved and oft used fixture of Chicago’s cityscape. The project, headed by Skidmore, Owings & Merrill, was poorly planned, over-budget and four years behind schedule but nonetheless produced such architectural fixtures as Cloud Gate or “The Bean” sculpture, Crown Fountain, Lurie Garden and the Pritzker Pavilion. The park breaks from the tradition of relying on nature to sculpt a green oasis in the middle of the city. Instead the park relies on strong steel, glistening materials and an organic and ever-evolving layout that boasts multi-uses to create a space to be used and enjoyed by city residents and tourists alike. With attendence expected hit 5 million this year, the space is indeed frequented by many. The Boston Globe’s Robert Campell elaborated on why Millennium Park is such a success:

Everybody goes to (Millennium Park), in almost every season, because there’s great stuff to do. Magical artworks, a delightful café, theatres, an outdoor concert venue, a world-class art museum next door… inventive gardens, an ever-changing pool for wading and running, a bike rental pavilion – the list of delights seems endless.

The park’s wide array of offerings draws users to explore and actually enjoy its grounds.  However, the park requires important maintenance that is costly, $100,000 per acre annually to keep the park clean and its exhibits in good condition. Millennium Park has inspired the development of restaurants, hotels and condominiums at its perimeter with the condominiums selling for 29% higher than those in surrounding neighborhoods that are lacking the Millennium Park view.    

Millennium Park succeeded not only in creating a well-used public space but also in creating jobs and investment into the city mainly with the spur of real estate projects around its perimeter. While Millenium Park can be lauded as a huge success, Athens OAKA stadium is a separate public project that fell short of such accolades and long-term use. Designed by Spanish architect Santiago Calatrava it was used as the main arena for the 2004 Olympic games in Greece. However, the monumental building quickly fell into disrepair and abandonment in the aftermath of the Olympics. Calatrava used white on the façade and tile to evoke eternal qualities. Now stained and in disrepair, the stadium has been all but abandoned aside from the occasional F.C. game that does not even come close to filling the massive stadium. Unlike Chicago’s Millennium Park OAKA did not have a concrete maintenance schedule or budget despite the best of intentions for it to be used long after the Olympics. Unlike Millennium Park, the fleeting and temporary nature of the Olympics worked against OAKA and prevented it form achieving anything like Millennium Park’s long-term and steady use. The mammoth scale of the building created shoes that were too hard to fill post-games, which inspired London’s “down-scaling” strategy for its 2012 Olympic architecture. Marc Auge’s theory of “non-places” explains OAKA’s fall from grace. He describes his theory of the loss of place’s identity as something that occurs at certain sites with quick transfer qualities, a concept the Olympics’ fleeting nature fulfills.

Millennium Park with its more realistic architecture and recreational offerings continues to thrive to this day, while OAKA’s impractical size and lack of maintenance make it a lifeless landmark. The architecture of these spaces can only go so far in breathing life and purpose into the locations. Without thoughtful planning and strategy a public landmark can quickly become an abandoned eyesore as opposed to a vibrant meeting place that inspires wide-reaching growth and prosperity for a city.

Creating a Landmark or Political Control?

This weeks readings had my thoughts scattered on a controversial roller coaster. I am finding it difficult to put my thoughts to words. I became lost in connection with Michael Sorkin’s “Save the Whitney”. His poetic and humanistic protest encompassed evaluation of Breuer’s building and of Grave’s proposed addition that had me questioning whether this was assigned or a personal selection for leisure reading. In his parting paragraph, Sorkin migrates from critic to advocate. I found his critique to be successful in the sense that his writing was easy to understand. I was not reaching for my dictionary and my focus stayed with the article. He was telling a story as I was envisioning it. The critique gained success because it carried through to the end - Sorkin’s pleading case of advocacy. 

Lange later discusses, “To be a good critic is to make the best possible argument for why the oddballs should be saved or built in the first place; to be a good citizen is to know them when you see them.” (89) I interpreted this in two ways. In applying this to Sorkin’s critique, I noted the importance of including society in decisions regarding architecture, landmarks, and preservation by means of architectural critique. On the other hand, is it realistic to expect all citizens to recognize landmarks? I tend to place authority on these types of subjects to experts in the field; I know nothing about the stock market and therefore I seek financial services to maintain my 401 K stock shares. I also don't expect my boyfriend to recognize or appreciate architecture or design elements that I reference or point out. 

Another theme that I recognized throughout the readings is the influence of politics, greed, and recognition on public architecture and development. Recognition was sought out for the expansion of the Whitney, with proposals from Graves, Koolhas, and Piano. Britain sought out political and global recognition through the Millennium Dome, however, their efforts fell short of displaying Englishness. Jones’ excerpt in The Sociology of Architecture explains “the Millennium Dome project was intended as a celebration of Britishness at the Millennium, but proved both difficult and expensive to deliver, and hard to legitimate with reference to any coherent national identity.” (79) Millennium Park in Chicago - a combination of the three. 

Expanding on Millennium Park, from my point of view based on the readings, it appeared to me that the success of the park was heavily based on private donations and features designed by famous artists and starchitects. Furthermore, I can’t help but wonder if the intent of the park was to benefit the citizens of Chicago, place Chicago on the world map, or to kickstart a massive commercial development boom that benefits the economy. I asked the same question to myself when applied to the parks 2009 installation of two temporary pavilions; designed by starchitects. The pavilions were commissioned as a representation of “new ways to look at Chicago today and bew visions for the Chicago of tomorrow”, from Khalili and Maymind’s Urban Follies: Technology and The Apolitical. Regardless of Chicago’s intent, it appeared to me that the pavilions reflected a new advancement in architecture that society has not yet recognized, adapted to, or accepted. The question raised here is, if society has yet to accept these new architectural advancements, why are they the future we have to look forward to?

This lead me briefly to think about Olympic architecture. The same principles I mentioned before are also translated to these structures as well. Has the world not recognized a trend in Olympic architectural history? The amounts of money spent to build an essentially, temporary structure is outrageous. Are politics and recognition what drives countries and cities to undertake such a lasting burden? And are the decisions revolving Olympic site location considering citizens input, or are these decisions in the hands of political authority? 

Landmarks and Meaning

A landmark is always a statement. The fact that it was built is a statement, the fact that it is held to a certain esteem to be preserved, or cared for is a statement, and the fact that there are activist criticism on landmarks is a statement. Even when landmarks are being criticized for being void of meaning, that just means there’s another statement being made there, that maybe not everyone wants to hear or to be heard.

            In the readings, we learned about Riegl’s 5-values by which to critique a landmark, we read about the incredible benefits landmarks can bring to a city with Millennium Park in Chicago as the centerpiece of discussion, and we were introduced to the Mega-event structure with it’s successes and failures to it’s community. What peaked my interest was the question, if the landmark’s statement is not of value to the community (global or local) is it worth preserving or creating? As a follow-up to that question, can the statement of the landmark change over time? Is it possible for a landmark to hold onto it’s statement, or is the statement a creation of the times?

            I want to investigate these questions through three landmarks – Cloud Gate in Millennium Park, The Millennium Dome in London, and OAKA in Greece.

Cloud Gate, AKA The Bean, in Chicago’s Millennium Park - Here’s a structure that pretty much fulfills only two out of Riegl’s five values of a landmark – Newness and artistry. The landmark is not only apart of the park responsible for an astounding surge of real estate development around the park (as well as tourism and money ), but it is also “selfie central” – It’s loved because it’s iconic, it’s iconic because it’s loved. Cloud Gate has contributed to it’s community, and the community loves it, to me, this landmark represents one which has proven itself worth creating, and worth preserving. The questions it leaves me with, as previously discussed in last week’s class, is what was Anish Kapoor’s intent? Why did he make it? Did he envision it as the landmark it is today?  And, as a sculpture, is it architecture?  When is that line crossed? It is arguable to say that it has a form and it has a function, on top of that, it is clearly a landmark, so is it architecture? (I’ll admit this is a digression from my previously outlined thoughts, but endlessly intriguing).

My argument to anyone who says, ‘Absolutely not!’  would be, OAKA. Here is something the general public could probably agree constitutes as architecture, but today it lies neglected in disrepair with the occasional sporting event. Here is a structure that had meaning, was making one statement – strength, prosperity, globalized – and now currently makes an entirely different one – lack of funds, desperation, neglect. If this structure can change it’s implications so drastically so quickly, part of it as illustrated in Diana’s blog as forgotten relics swallowed up by overgrown grasses, depleting itself of any contribution to Greece or the global community, is that a landmark? Is that worth saving?

The Bean illustrates a structure which is making a statement and is an active participant in the life of it’s community. OAKA is the polar opposite – a structure which has completely lost it’s implications on it’s community and is not making the statement of it’s original intention.

The Millennium Dome in London is the most fascinating structure for me because it the perfect example of “forcing it”.  When I was a stylist although it was not always easy to identify the perfect combination of material goods, it was blatantly clear when things were not right.  The Dome, to me, is “forcing it”.  As outlined in the Daily Mail, it is the epitome of style over substance, the very essence of the Blair administration. The problem people have with it is its lack of definitive use, (One of Riegl’s values) and ghastly cost. It’s a large arena, but for what purpose was it erected?  On the surface if someone were to ask the question, “What statement is this structure making? “ I would say, it’s void of any meaningful statement because from what I’ve read, it doesn’t seem to be valued, adored, or of importance to the community. But, the Daily Mail is articulating a more subversive statement of a disregard for what the people want. I have enough faith in humanity to believe Blair, and the architects involved had noble intentions with this design, but this example shows that if you force something, it usually does not work out the way you want it to.  

To sum things up, statements absolutely change, context is everything, and a landmark now may not be a landmark later, and vice versa, something mundane now might become a landmark later.  I do not think meaning can be forced or conjured, but meaning is more like a living entity – It changes, it is new at one point, ages, it is interpreted differently by different people, and can end or die. One important note to make, is I do not think you can strip a structure of meaning either – just as you cannot force one upon it, you cannot take one away. OAKA will always be an Olympic site. Maybe that’s why, in it’s current state of dilapidation, it still remains.

Landmark Overload?

This week’s readings had me thinking a lot about last week’s discussions regarding the opinions of architectural critics and how we should weigh them. My feelings on the topic were that the architect’s intent/opinion/sentiment should be weighed more heavily that anyone else’s. To continue that thought – I would actually say that my own personal reaction to the architecture is just as important (so too, I would argue, is everyone else’s opinions for herself). I think first and foremost it is truly between the architect (or artist) and the observer (me…or you) – an A + B relationship. By no means am I completely disregarding the importance of other’s thoughts and observations. I think these opinions are extremely important in our field and the catalyst for great conversation, debate and discovery.

This whole chain of thoughts brought me back to the idea of landmarks, our focus this week. Architectural landmarks most definitely come into existence based on the voiced opinion (or sometimes, vote) of others. Whether it is public officials, political entities or the general public, there needs to be some sort of consensus that a particular built environment is worthy of being dubbed a ‘landmark’. Lange had a great quote regarding the concept of landmarks and the activist critic:

“To be a good critic is to make the best possible argument for why the oddballs should be saved or built in the first place; to be a good citizen is to know them when you see them.” Lange, 89

I had to pause after reading this line and think about it a little more. It seems bold to say that the typical citizen needs to recognize a landmark on his/her own in order to be considered a ‘good’ one. If it truly is a landmark for all the reasons its supporters say it is, shouldn’t it be so obvious that the typical citizen can just be average and still recognize it as such? I guess what I am really asking is, shouldn’t a landmark only be considered a landmark if it is recognized and respected to the degree that even the most uneducated and uninterested citizen knows it is a special building? Otherwise, perhaps the word landmark is being thrown around a little loosely.

Furthermore, if we were to go by Alios Riegl’s five value system: historical value, artistic value, age value, use value and newness value, the span of potential ‘landmarks’ really expands. This rating system seems to open to the door to an incredible number of possible landmarks, which feels like it strips the specialness of the title. I could extend this thought to the concept of buildings, people, and places being dubbed ‘icons’. Could (or should) an icon or landmark ever be retired? Is there a magic ratio that needs to be maintained in order for these titles to be considered honored and special? When we lived in our beat up apartment in Brighton there were three named ‘Squares’ within four blocks of us. Celebrated intersections that consisted of nothing more than 4-way stops. I always wondered what kind of ceremony they had to raise the tiny demarcation signs, if any. Or was it simply an exchange of money for the title?

Olympic Architecture - The Aftermath

Due to the monumentality that comes with hosting the Olympics, host cities view holding the games as an opportunity to showcase themselves and one way to do this is to create centerpiece architecture for the world to see.   But what happens next? According to Even Smith Wegeland’s “When Icons Crumble – The Troubled Legacy of Olympic Design,” there was no maintenance plan as part of the Athens Olympics, which led to the serious decline of 21 of the 22 venues, including the Athens Olympic Sports Complex (the OAKA). The OAKA is a particularly interesting case study, as the aim of Calatrava was to design an architectural centerpiece for the games that reflected Greece’s cultural history. By Smith Wegeland’s account, this was largely achieved. What I find interesting is that the current lackluster condition of OAKA is just as reflective of the state of the country now as it is of its rich history.

One theme out of this week’s readings that really stuck out to me was surrounding public architecture that is not maintained properly. When architecture, particularly public architecture like Olympic facilities, falls into disrepair, most people are quick to condemn it as lost or ruined. But if it is still standing, is it really lost, or has it just lost its appeal or essence? I liked the idea introduced by Nielsen that public architecture in decline has been “robbed of its place.” Because the OAKA was designed specifically for the Olympics, which likely will never return, the facility appears hollow, with no purpose. No event held in the facility will ever be as monumental as the Olympic Games, and thus the structure will not be viewed in the glorified context it was designed to be ever again. This feeling is what contributes to the idea of the OAKA becoming a “non-place.” Obviously this is not just true of OAKA, but many other pieces of public architecture as well.

Regardless of your opinion on the role of these complexes after such a monumental event, the images are undeniably striking. It’s hard to not to think about the juxtaposition of a packed facility with all the vibrancy that comes with an Olympic event and an overgrown, graffiti-invested space as being downright unnerving.

Beijing 2004 Summer Olympics Beach Volleyball Facility - Current State

Sarajavo Winter Olympics Bobsled Track - Current State

Given the current Olympic bid from the city of Boston, I was really interested in “When Icons Crumble – The Troubled Legacy of Olympic Design.” The residents of Boston seem hesitant about hosting the Olympics for several reasons, but one resounding question I’ve heard from people has been, “but where are they actually going to hold all of the events?” I get the sense that there is a general agreement that so much money is spent on creating and updating sports facilities for the Olympics, and then as soon as they are over, there is little need for such extravagant complexes, as seen with OAKA. This seems to be a recurring problem as the internet is littered with images of run-down Olympic facilities from Sarajevo to Beijing to Berlin.  With this in mind, it’s not surprising that any city’s residents would be hesitant to support hosting the Olympics.