concrete – New York at its Best

What is it about the towers-in-the park complexes in Greenwich Village that captivate me so much? How can a person trained in the nuances of urban design feel such affection for a type of design that has been proven to suffocate city life?

University Village, like Washington Square Village (WSV) directly to the north, is another modernist success. Is it the best example of city planning? Probably not. But the space works, and the three magnificent brutalist structures are well deserving of their landmark status.

The struggle to designate the buildings, the plaza, and the entire superblock as a city landmark began with an NYU plan, a proposal which would later become NYU2031. When NYU revealed its plans to develop the University Village site, the Greenwich Village Society for Historic Preservation (GVSHP) fought back, citing the sanctity of the supermarket and the architectural statement of the buildings, considered a turning point in the career of architectural firm I. M. Pei & Associates (with lead designer James Ingo Freed).

And what a turning point it was. I discovered University Village when I went on a walking tour around NYU’s campus for an environmental science course. I still hadn’t found my appreciation for the art of architecture just yet, but something already drew me back to this place. After that tour, I couldn’t help but gaze up at the towers in wonder every time I walked by. The repeating sequence of recessed windows, the 20-feet concrete shear walls, and the less grey, more brown representation of the bare concrete construction produced a feeling of dignity within me, as I can now recognize it. And isn’t that at least one of the purposes of good architecture, to conjure in people emotional responses to their surroundings in a way that moves them?

One of the main reasons why University Village works, like WSV, is because the site is not completely de-mapped. Wooster Street between Bleecker and West Houston still exists, paved in brick instead of asphalt to match the earthy tone of the buildings. Cars can still drive in and out, to pick or drop off people and materials, but it has mainly become a walking space for pedestrians looking for a detour from regular city-life.

One of the reasons why plazas like this can never be perfect, I think, is because even though they are open to the public, people can still feel a sense of, “Do I belong here?” when they’re exploring. I definitely felt it the first few times I came back without a group, a remnant of Jane Jacobs’ idea of “the institution of turf” [see The Death and Life of Great American Cities, p. 60.].

The reasons why University Village was landmarked, however, are the same reasons why that feeling of not belonging isn’t as present in this plaza as in others. The larger copy of Picasso’s “Bust of Sylvette” by Carl Nesjar sits slightly off-center in the grassed part of the plaza; its rough cement work mirrors that of the buildings, ties the design together, and morphs it into a more human scale. Freed and Pei’s ‘pin-wheel’ design ensures that all three of the buildings have clear sight-lines and work off of one another, creating a smooth interplay of structure and void. The plaza also thoughtfully includes a long concrete bench for leisure, curious designs for outdoor lighting, and a small forest of trees at the North East corner. Art, architecture, and planning work together here to welcome people into what otherwise may be a foreboding place.

For a look inside Silver Towers (the two University Village buildings dedicated to NYU faculty and grad students) and the amazing views they offer, as well as the vibrant stories of three families who have called the village home, Curbed author Rebecca Bengal wrote a touching article earlier this year, “Living on a NYU Superblock.” In this piece, she mentions a heated online forum that she found while researching, where commenters documented the turbulent views of the complex’s worth. I actually stumbled upon this forum myself, and it is quite illuminating to see both opinions from a decade ago, when decisions had not yet been made final, and how fired up citizens can become in the name of city history and beauty. It’s somewhat heartwarming, no matter the opinion.

Each commenter had their point. Some argued on the basis of beauty [“these towers… are a scourge on the city landscape” vs. “They are simply among the most attractive modernist apartment buildings in the city”], others on the basis of the complex’s history [“this is a Robert Moses housing project that surely replaced hundreds of beautiful old buildings” vs “The old stuff is gone. The Pei buildings are with us. They may or may not be better than what they replaced, but… they are very high quality architecture”]. This forum is a microcosm of the complex world of preservation: Which points do you consider? How do they work together? Are some more important in some cases than others? It is also fertile ground for debates over the merit of beauty and the merit of subjective tastes in deciding what the fabric of a city will look like.

In this author’s opinion, University Village offers New York City a lively aspect of healthy cities- variety, and a beautifully unique variety at that. May they stand, literally and figuratively, the test of time.

Architecture is the learned game, correct and magnificent, of forms assembled in the light. – Le Corbusier

The wooden Rockaway Beach Boardwalk was an icon. Begun in the early 20th-century, the boardwalk was completed in the 1930s and helped maintain Rockaway’s status as a grand summer resort on the Atlantic.

If you’ve never been to Rockaway before, I encourage you to take a visit there. When I was a sophomore in college, a classmate in one of my Environmental Science courses said that, “There’s no nature in NYC.” She wasn’t from New York, so I told her to get out of Manhattan sometime if she had the chance. I told her to take the A to Rockaway. Lay on the beach, visit Riis Park, wander Fort Tilden and Edgemere and Bayswater. Go kayaking in the bay and step foot onto one of the marshes. She’d even have a nice view along the way.

You won’t be able to experience the wonder that was the original wooden boardwalk, however. That structure was destroyed by Hurricane Sandy in 2012. I was a senior in high school at the time, and I can remember my last time on the boardwalk- practicing volleyball with my friends while I forgot about college applications for a little bit.

Just a week later, our communities had been ravaged. Sections of the wooden boardwalk lay scattered in the street amongst overturned cars and other debris. Concrete pilings stretched for miles through the rubble, like soldiers readying for battle. I took a picture of my friend as we made our way through the destruction; it felt like the end of the world.

The new boardwalk is objectively safer, sturdier, and more resilient than the last one. But in the minds of long-time Rockaway residents, is it better? Can the modernists’ love affair with concrete ever emotionally compare with the dear memories of wooden planks?

When you drive in from Queens over the Cross Bay Veterans Memorial Bridge, head straight toward the beach. Once you’ve parked, continue to the boardwalk and you’ll be met by an entrance scene that spills out onto the sidewalk, embracing you with open arms and beckoning you to view the superb coastal scene on the other side.

The promise of a new Rockaway is symbolized in this entrance way. No longer forgotten by the city, no longer known for its dog attacks and deteriorating homes and infrastructure, Rockaway now welcomes visitors in troves as it strives to return to its fin-de-siècle glory.

All along the boardwalk graceful and playful vistas reign. In the Beach 30s the boardwalk is a faithful companion to the new Far Rockaway Park by WXY Studio, whose physical structures recall parasols, gull wings, and beach towels blowing in the wind. In the Beach 70s the boardwalk acts as an esplanade for the inhabitants of the sturdy new development of Arverne by the Sea. Through the Beach 80s and 90s smaller but no less marvelous entrance pathways that wind like serpents and are lined by native beach plants lead the way to revamped concessions. Passing through the Beach 100s the boardwalk provides the backdrop for historic, mural-ed bus stops that depict striking aquatic scenes, and it ends in the Beach 120s in a look-out station for kids and curious adults a like.

The new boardwalk was highly contested. For many, concrete represented an end to the beach-style life that Rockaway residents prided themselves on living.

But the City of New York no longer wanted Rockaway to be known as the city’s refuse. Residents were included in the design process so that the final structure would represent there hopes and ambitions for a united community; a community that will not lift up a white flag as it stares down the harrowing face of climate change and sea level rise.

Portions of the boardwalk were turned to concrete before 2012. These sections were a mess. Meant to reflect the look and texture of sand, the individual blocks seemed too chaotically different from each other: they weren’t all the same texture and never seemed to line up correctly. They did, however, hold up in the storm, a foreshadow of change to come.

The new boardwalk is an engaging light grey-blue color, inlaid with stone and glass, and it doesn’t shallowly try to imitate the environment it lives in. Instead it works with it, offering a contrast of color and sliding nicely into, and fortifying, the natural dune ecosystem. Undulating lines that look like waves separate the bike lanes from the walking paths, and thoughtfully designed lifeguard stations, water fountains, and wooden benches (made from the original boardwalk wood) abound.

I find the boardwalk a beacon of environmentally sound and beautifully designed infrastructure that sets up Rockaway Beach for its long awaited renaissance.

Emblazoned in light-blue is the community’s signature. Can you spot it as you take-off from or land at JFK? Or perhaps you can figure it out using a different perspective from right there on the ground.

You only have to cast your eyes on [architecture] to feel the presence of the past [and] the spirit of a place… – I.M. Pei

Tag: concrete

University Village: Brutalist Delights and a Fierce Debate

Reimagining Rockaway: The Boardwalk