Stadia agonistes.

So tomorrow is the big day — are Joe and Shelly going to play hooky? Will they sneak out and smoke cigarettes behind the gym all day while Curious George runs around, trying to play the mindful elder, but really just looking like a geeky Student Council flunky, with Mike-Mike trailing his heels, furiously taking notes and trying to look dignified but just coming off like Alex Keaton?

As they gilt themselves with Olympic finery to justify the most egregious act of corporate welfare, well, this week at least, could someone please point to me what events will take place at this ‘Olympic’ stadium? See, the tradition is that track and field events, sometimes soccer (though this is less an issue since most host countries have myriad soccer venues due to its popularity) and opening and closing ceremonies are held at the moneyshot location, which is how the Jets Stadium is being touted. But given that it already is doing double duty as a convention center [Voice of Dan Doctoroff: Hey! Back there! Stop snickering — this is serious stuff! You can too use an arena for other events. I rememeber when the Cleveland Cavs moved from Richfield Coliseum, and it was used very successfully as the site of a flea market, and for motocross, for several years] and football stadium (I think it is going to make toast as well, but that will cost an extra $400 million), it seems reasonable to suspect that not an insubstantial amount of additional money will be needed to realize this one-time use. And it has to be that. I really doubt the cost of putting up and taking down a soccer field in the midst of the dozens of major new events this place is supposed to draw for Javits is going to feasible on the MetroStars numbers.

Take a look at this image and you tell me if you think you can fit a soccer field, or a running track in that snug lil’box. If you were wondering, a soccer pitch is typically 100-130 yards long (comprable to a football field), but between 70-100 yards wide (whereas a football field is only 50 yards or so wide). A easier way to compare is to look at a similar facility plan for the 2008 Games, Guangdong Stadium. Note that neatly inscribed inside the running track is a soccer pitch, which is larger than a standard football field. Now go back and look at this one more time and you tell me if you think someone is fudging the numbers a bit. If this facility is so goddamn important to the Olympics, how about we get a rendering of what the facility will look like without the words “Jets” scrawled all over it? Because it sure won’t look like this.

A couple of questions that might be useful for vote tomorrow: is there additional expense incurred for the adaptation of the stadium for the Games, and is it currently shown in projected costs (Remember how Atlanta built a stadium and then tore half of it down to become the new home of tomohawkkin’ Jane Fonda’s ex’s Braves?)? If not, how much is this costing, and how is it being funded? Have is it been conclusively demonstrated that such a tight facility will indeed accomodate those events, regardless of cost? How long will the facility be unusable because of modifications (that is, if expanding the convention center is such an urgent issue, pushing off full use of the facility until perhaps 2011 as a convention center seems imprudent)? Even if we get good, solid information on all these points, can we ask again, who actually wants this thing? Can Bloomberg find anyone in Manhattan that doesn’t work for him that actually thinks this is a good thing for the borough?

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Wednesday Lore: Don’t Let The Sun Go Down On Your Grievances.

It seems highly unlikely, I know, but I am a closet romantic. Born and bred in the midwest, the experience of the evening there is different in many obvious ways, and one subtle. Even though my parent’s home is a dreary straight line drive west across Pennsylvania, the sun sets seemingly later. I used to think it was one of those self-involved suppositions, like my belief that streetlights go out when I am near (presumably a result of having been struck by lightning as a child), until my sister pointed out a more scientific reason: being a goodly ways west within the same arbitrary time division, with New York being the leading edge, we have at least an hour less of federally mandated Daylight Savings Time than my birthplace. There, the longer crawl to the horizon illuminated many evenings of sport, wandering, and preparing myself for the non-stop frustration and misanthropy of my adulthood.

Here, the sun droops sooner, abetted by towering hunks of metal and stone. Like everything else in this town, the enforced scarcity makes slender moments more precious. Today being the symbolic entry into summer, it also is the first solid week of summer evenings and spring air. So take yourself for a walk. It doesn’t have to be grand, and it doesn’t have to be planned. If you don’t mind, I have a few recommendations:

Seventh Avenue in the 30’s. The remnants of the Garment District are primarily physical, the hulking stone manufacturing centers of the teens and twenties. Rising to a uniform height, with a limited amount of set backs, as required, they form a striking wall illuminated by the gap that is Penn Station and the Garden. The upslope of Seventh is a great view, albeit a rather crowded one, as hordes muscle their way along to the terminal, most oblivious to the dusty hues above.

Brooklyn Bridge. Believe the hype. Ignore the tourists. It’s near impossbile to feel like it’s ours, overrun with camera-toting interlopers. But there’s a reason for that appeal, and it’s not just Fodor’s. Save yourself half the pain by walking east over the Manhattan Bridge (you get the south path as a pedestrian, perfect for evenings) and wander though DUMBO, which is still empty enough for you to forget it’s the new Tribeca.

Robert Wagner Park. It’s annoying that every seven feet of the Battery is a different park. Robert Wagner is the southern most portion of Battery Park City before you get to the Battery proper. Featuring a wonderful brick folly by Machado/Silvetti — do not fail to stand on that bridge or sit in those luxuriant benches on the upper level — and a perfect green rectangle (no noise please), this is best experienced right close to sun down, so that the jumble of uninspired apartment blocks just to the north are a hazy mass, and New Jersey looks like a place you might want to actually visit.

But the real point is, don’t go anywhere. Just go. Don’t stop for a drink, or at least until after it’s dark. Sit in inappropriate places. Smile at strangers, or just to yourself. You only have a little bit of time. Don’t let it get away.

Previous Lore:
052505: Neither city, nor subway, but Empire.
050405: Like Usual?
042705: The best thing ever.

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Have you heard? Ground Zero is a mess and Pataki is an idiot.

What a difference a year makes. This time last, the Freedom Tower was a highly contested and unresolved image failing to anchor the plans to revitalize the WTC site. There was an ugly dispute about authorship, control and the likelihood of resolution bespeaking of synthesis was remote. Now, everything is…

The story is so pathetic at this point, the ledes write themselves. And like any good craven self-interest, a story rich in conflict and failure makes for convenient journalism. Everyone
writes
about it, and the narrative is rigorous and consistent: The process is bankrupt, and Pataki seems incapable of both realizing or repairing the damage. Proposed alternates seem naïve, such as Goldberger’s call for housing — by Calatrava no less — or simply don’t exist.

For now we will be treated to the sad spectacle of nudging the Freedom Tower model back and forth forty feet to determine the optimal security configuration. Presumably this motion will also shake free any remnants of Libeskind’s folly, leaving the svelte, featureless office block Childs is so expert at manifesting. Its pristine form will be matched by floor after floor of unoccupied space. This would be perhaps the best possible outcome for those of us that find rebuilding a morally questionable gesture in the first place.

A friend writes and wonders if government workers will be drafted as the unwitting patriots. The irony of mandating relocation to symbolize freedom? Priceless. Better still, they could make it a Gulf War veteran’s facility. I look forward to the day a worker shows up with a bull’s-eye tee-shirt and is fired, or arrested. The myriad expressions of freedom are going to be a daily joy. Given that assembly will be prohibited, I wonder what other forms will be restricted? Can Reverend Billy perambulate the renovated site and recite the First Amendment? Can booksellers set up and offer tomes critical of Dubya? Will anyone, in the end, be allowed to do anything that is not proscribed and prescripted by the nebulous, Orwellian Freedom Center?

These are far too incendiary topics to broach. It is better to hide behind the tepid relevance of form, and the bizarre proclamations that a twisted tower that ascends to a mythical and irrelevant measure is manifestly different than one that unwracks itself and discards the finials and crenellations. Their programmatic similarity propels us into a bewildering echo chamber where competing voices comprised mainly of braying politicians in pursuit of the empty celebration of their ego or the blood-lust of developers who press forward without regard for decency or the will of the people (were that something that could be established with any certainty), blindly faithful that someday the need will return. The different plans they tout are sly mirrors of the same close-minded evaluation that presumes floor plates of ever-expanding girth to match the banal environs that surround cities across the county. We are led by fools who operate in the thrall of foxes.

Pataki promised a revised plan in a week, then a month, and then the LMDC announced everything was fixed already. Or maybe not. Perhaps my memory is occluded by the switch-backs and revisions, all of which are pointless, since we have yet to even be presented with the concept that was exposed as a failure even before its revelation.

When the smoke and smell that would not dissipate blanketed us all, hope seemed impossible, and negative cycle of despair seemed as permanent as the fires that could not be extinguished. For a hundred days we lived with the inescapable horror. Now, the site is nominally cleaned, and actual remnants are few, so the charades we witness each day cannot carry the same visceral weight. Thus it is essential to live with that memory and anger, to provide sufficient verve to assail the moronic machinations that continue to unfold. Silverstein should surrender his lease. Pataki should resign, or at least withdraw from the decision making. The PANY/NJ should cede authority. And they should apologize, for all of it. For they have taken from us what remained on the morning of September 12 — dignity.

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Pianissimo.

So has the Whitney succeeded, or failed? It’s hard to figure out, since the
current decision
challenges us to declaim our pessimist/optimist stance, the Landmarks Preservation Committee having handed down a Solomonic decree to cleave Renzo Piano’s proposed solution neatly in half, mandating that one of the ‘contributing’ townhouses be retained, while one ‘non-contributing’ structure can be removed.

The LPC got all academic, allowing that the rending be also a doubling, permitting the Whitney to shave off the back-half of the one-half that they must retain. Everyone is acting like this half-assed (sorry, it seemed too obvious) decision is a victory all around, one of those vaunted acts of compromise, without realizing that Solomon’s wisdom was not effected by actually bifurcating the infant. At least Chuck Close didn’t mince words, observing that the Museum of Arts and Design is allowed strip 2 Columbus Circle bare “while we’re not allowed to take down one crummy brownstone.”

It’s a fair point, since the every time another act of preservation results in pinning a façade to an otherwise bland behemoth (take a walk down 42nd Street between Broadway and Sixth Avenue, where you can see the remnant of a theater that will be reconstructed as part of the Bank of America tower, or the Mohawk Atelier on Duane Street where the same is being done on a smaller scale) pretty much aligns the preservation movement with the intellectual bankruptcy of Disney. The Whitney would be better served by proposing a completely blank wall where they could get someone like Bill Viola to project the image of various ‘contributing’ structures.

The neighbors are still steamed, something about the big tower that will spring up behind the contributing façade ruining the character of the area, or something. Big buildings have no place in Manhattan, we know. If only we could bring back scurvy and indentured servitude, it would be a historically appropriate utopia. What no one is complaining about, not even the preservationists, which is odd, since the argument bolsters their position, is how bland and uninteresting the Piano scheme is.

Hmmm, let’s see. Museum with great character and a compelling form that actually relates to its entrance, what is the best way to expand? Well, slap a featureless warehouse addition on the side, and put a sliver of glass between it and the original. Studio 101. Hey, maybe the interconnections can be glass bridges! Ooooh. And when you get some really bad direction from a government bureaucracy, what do you do? Radically reexamine your concept? Nah, you just cut it down the middle, eliminating the one putatively reasonable argument for moving the entrance wholesale (circulation).

The plan provided (a surprise in these days of meaningless renderings) shows the original as none too inspired, one of the two entry points — revolving doors — sitting awkwardly under the corner of the tower above. It appears that the main stair of the existing building will still be a prominent feature, though the state of the existing elevator, a grand experience now, is unclear. The Times also thoughtfully translates ‘piazza’ for you. The revised version is simply an even more jumbled interpretation of the same, with the entry way stepping back in chunks, a result of the half a building that is now required.

All of this sits south of the monolithic party wall that terminates the edge of the current site, itself too historic for alteration. With the exception of the canopy that looks to peek past, the entirety of the new entrance will be obscured from any oblique view approaching from the north, particularly on the east side of Madison. The rendering doesn’t show if the bridge that leads to the current entrance will be modified in some way to indicate that such a formally descriptive signifier has been entirely divested of meaning. Maybe they intend to commission a clever aphorism from Jenny Holzer that involves ‘vestigial’. Or they can just pick from the list. Me, I’ll take “Ambition is just as dangerous as complacency” for today.

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What next, bottle service at TA mailing parties?

I was very incidentally standing about what looked like the After-After Party for the Critical Mass ride [one of the participants called it ‘pretty successful’ as there were only about a dozen arrests, and most of the ride was peaceful with only two incidents of netting] at the Time’s Up space on Houston, and I was rather shocked to find that an event that is completely free form and without leaders featured a velvet rope controlling entry! Commidifying our dissent! Heresy!

I’m sure it had more to do with the fact that their space is not a bar, and if they let just anyone in, that would probably include the vengeful NYPD, who can’t rest until the scourge of unfettered cycling is put to an end. Many of you might not realize this, but in the same way that trees cause pollution, bikes are responsible for the pandemic of hit and run accidents over the past week. My proof? Well, no well-founded causation, but after 17 people are injured or killed by cars over the past week, what did the NYPD do to make the streets safer? They arrested some cyclists. Oh, they shot a bunch of people too. Bystanders and cyclists, the real enemy. My advice? Get in your car and drive as fast as you can. Safest place to be these days.

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Wednesday Lore: Neither city, nor subway, but Empire.

I think of how my friends and relatives would chortle over a particular episode of Seinfeld and remark on how clever the writers were. After a few years of living here, I didn’t doubt their creativity or skill, but I did come to recognize how some of the most effective gimmicks were in fact anthropological exposition. It’s not as if they claimed otherwise, but I have found that people who have not lived here are surprised when you relate a real life version of a Seinfeld episode.

The one I usually told of was the episode where Elaine fakes her address to receive food delivery, because her apartment is redlined by the restaurant. Several years ago I lived on the corner of Tenth Avenue and 57th Street. The building had entrances on both street, with separate addresses. The River, a decent pan Asian restaurant on Amsterdam, would deliver as far south as 57th. A friend lived in the back half of the building, but had the Tenth Avenue address, which tipped the restaurant to its prohibited status (for the out-of-towners: starting north of 57th, Tenth Avenue becomes Amsterdam Avenue). My friend would order food and wait on our stoop for the food to arrive.

Any “classic” New York-based film or television show resonates as “authentic” — The Taking of Pelham One, Two, Three, or All in the Family — but that authenticity is more likely than not simply the accurate representation of a personal anecdote. One such moment in Die Hardest is when the Bruce Willis character meets up with Jerry, who drives a dump truck, and knows a little too much about Water Tunnel Number 3, and that Chester A. Arthur is the twenty-first president. Though his knowledge is convenient and moves the plot along, he also, at least to my twisted mind, seems more realistic than anyone else in the film. That’s probably a result of a late night confab over a different hole in the ground, with a employee of the inscrutable Empire City Subway.

I spend plenty of time looking at holes in the ground, of any kind: the lengthy rift that precedes new construction, the temporary openings for repairs, the permanent ones that provide insight into the netherworld. Nighttime is best, because there are less restrictions to observation, and more holes. The steel plates that straddle crevices are removed, and secrets are revealed. Oh, and I’m often drunk.

One night, walking along Third Avenue, I came across a hole, one not exceptionally unique from a distance, attended to by an Empire City Subway truck. I had long wondered about this company: given the odd confluence of names, I wondered if it were simply an obscure city or state agency, sticking to an arcane naming convention. They turn up pretty much everywhere, without any apparent rhyme or reason, except to stand guard over and service holes.

So I stuck my head in, and came almost face-to-face with a man holding one hell of a telephone cable. I recalled an interview with Ridley Scott about giving directions to set dressers on Alien: he instructed them to make a section of the ship bridge “look like hair.” This repair worker was holding a six-inch diameter cable that was an explosion of copper.

Normally I leave people to their jobs. Maybe he looked friendly, maybe I was really drunk, or my equally so friend was simply excusing my fetish and interest. So we asked. Turns out someone was taking a core sample (which involves basically drilling a pretty wide hole and removing the contents as a seamless chunk) but didn’t call around to find if there were any existing services, and went cleanly through the cable. Pain though that was, they missed gas and water, and thus necessitated Empire City Subway.

I asked that too: turns out Empire “has held a franchise from the City of New York to build and maintain a conduit and manhole infrastructure in Manhattan and the Bronx” since 1891. If they come out for subways, or anything else, it’s only because there is copper nearby. He wasn’t as eloquent as the website, but still full of information.

I asked about the mess of wire in his hand. “About 2,000” strands ran through it, a trunk line, if I recall correctly. One of us asked if he would be knitting it back together.

“No, I don’t do that. A splicer does that.”

Is a splicer a person, or a machine? “A person.”

We silently imagined a job that entails getting called out at 5AM to sew together 2,000 individual strands, intensified by a misunderstanding that each strand was unique, requiring finding its mate, but copper doesn’t work that way.

I asked him who he worked for. “Verizon.” I raised my eyebrows in appropriate surprise (though at the time I think it was still NYNEX). He then proceeds to tell us he can’t find any evidence to this fact in public. Gets a check with the logo on it, that’s all. He tells us he’s scoured the 10-K for details. Nada.

Now, it’s not the mystery it was then, being right there on the homepage, but I too did a scan of the 10-K, and right he seems. After all, monopoly rights for over a century is probably some solid cash flow. I don’t know that wholly owned subsidiaries have to be reported as a line item, and really didn’t feel like reading the whole 10-K. The way he talked certainly made it seem like they operate from a pretty cushy place, not counting the climbing in the ground at 5AM part.

We chatted some fifteen minutes or so about job satisfaction, monopoly control of utilities, and the his mysterious understanding of his corporate overlord. I doubt James Cramer could have given any better insight. All the while he was fussing with the conduit through which phone lines for a good three block chunk of the city patiently waited to be restored. Well before the Internet made such detailed research possible, and the fabled UPS driver/day trader, we still had street-level analysts ready were you to bother them for insight at sunup. He went back to his digging, and we stumbled off to breakfast, no more confident that some fool wouldn’t blow up a building because they didn’t follow procedure, but, provided they didn’t, at the very least, those dispatched for remediation knew the score.

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Bohemia ascendant?

The bohemian spirit — or at least the tattered vestiges that pass for revolutionary urbanity — reigned supreme last week in the Village, when the city backed down on their threat to make Washington Square Park a hardened facility. Perhaps staking out the same level of paranoid control evidenced in Tompkins (but oddly considered unnecessary at smaller locations, such as the recently renovated Tribeca Park) as a bargaining chip, it was determined that the current standard of pulling easily adjusted temporary barricades across the entrances was an acceptable compromise.

See, the Parks Department, like any nattering parent, is really het up about their curfew. You can tell they take it serious, since they allowed the NYPD to park an unattractive converted bus there as a ‘temporary’ substation sometime in the 1850’s. Then, in the nineties, they installed dozens of security cameras and lights. All of this has been highly effective in reducing drug sales and preempting NYU undergrads crucial late-night opportunities to discover love and a convenient place to exercise its dissolution. With such a high ratio of success so far, a permanent enclosure was deemed the next best solution. If that fails, the plan is to pave over the entire area and classify it as uniformed officer parking, insuring every inch will be covered by F-150’s all the time.

But no, they backed down, and and now the major entrances will seem as opening as welcoming as possible when enrobed in a four-foot-high fence (or it is four-and-a-half?). Most of the other major renovation plans were approved, including relocating and raising the fountain, leveling the humps and rebuilding the convenience center — which includes a children’s only bathroom. How does that work? Are the doors only so high? Lastly, but significantly, they are removing many, if not most, of the chess tables, but this doesn’t seem to bother anyone.

I went and stood in the park last weekend to try and picture some of the changes, and was surprised to discover how wrong I was about a previous comment regarding the implied pathway of Fifth Avenue. Though the clear continuance of the vista as one approaches from the north is essential; however, I did not remember how off-axis the south approach is, the arch sitting nearly halfway between West Broadway/La Guardia Place (the major southern approach) and Thompson Street which is far less prominent. This implies a less symettrical plan, but the revised plan does well to provide a rational geometry that responds this condition. I don’t think the fountain relocation or raising is as crucial as revised paving, which did wonders for Tribeca Park. It will definitely improve the western end of the park, which now seems to be an undifferented mass of pathways. In such a small area, classic rules of composition will read best, and there is a nice bit of that. One thing not discussed anywhere I have seen is the penetration of the fencing. The perimeter fence is one issue, but where it becomes truly intrusive and destructive is when every green space is surrounded, as is the case in Tompkins. Such a pervasive approach will destroy the impact of the new paving, will seem unnecessarily restrictive, and destroy the sense of a park being a relief from the surrounding area.

This has been the most pernicious legacy of Henry Stern, evidenced in most major renovations (think Tompkins, the Sheep Meadow, etc.). Natural pathways are obstructed, the appearance of said fencing seems arbitrary, and if it is going to be permanent, throughways or entrances need be better marked. What we are left with is our moment of green interspersed by a haze of fencing, layers upon layers, and somehow we are to make sense the meandering pathways. The Parks Department uses Olmstead like a cudgel to justify every renovation while overlooking one convenient fact: he didn’t wrap every patch of grass with a ribbon of iron.

But it’s not all bad, all the time. The renovations at the East River Park are absolutely splendid. Though the promenade is still some ways from completion, the new ball fields and play areas, with decent grass, markings and such, provide the essential sense of amenity, not simply leftover land before Alphabet City falls away into the East River. A crucial gap needs to be addressed just south of the amphitheater, where two facilities interrupt the march south. Rather than making a substantial investment now, at the very least, the city could make wider the current path, and include some green space (all that would be required would be losing some parking area) before coming upon the promenade that continues to Pier 17. Though the fanciful plans forwarded by Rogers and SHoP may happen, this should not obviate finishing this path. The views of the bridges are amazing, and reviving the moribund South Street Seaport would be plausible if a clearly marked path that provide access to and from the East Village, LES, and the outer reaches of Chinatown, were established.

But even here, with many areas where fencing is practical — to establish delimits of playing fields and such — the impression is of a warren that is defined only by paved pathways. It is an unfortunate betrayal of notion of respite that drove the creation of Central Park. The current fencing in Washington Square Park is ugly, but unobtrusive, and effective enough. It can improved with becoming overwhelming, and we can hold on to a sliver of relief in a city where every outdoor space is harshly defined by vertical places.

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Freedom on the march. March. March.

The LMDC unveiled the plans for the new Snøhetta museum complex for the WTC site yesterday, thinking a sexy rendering would distract everyone from their awful site planning, and total lack of interest in the Performing Arts facility. It didn’t. Take a look here. They are certainly concerned about giving Calatrava’s glass hat the prominence it deserves, aren’t they? It’s not Snøhetta’s fault. They didn’t have many options.

They could, however, have avoided the overused and didactic scheme of building a big ramp. One would think, as Ourousoff notes, that perhaps a forced path is antithetical to the notion of ‘freedom’. And it a little hard to tell exactly where the Drawing Center is, sandwiched somewhere between the gaping atrium dictated by Calatrava, and the ramp to freedom that winds around the perimeter.

The failure of the ramp motif is due to the overbearing framing of the experience. One is constantly measuring their relative position from beginning to end, and given that culture is an almost undifferentiated commodity, consumption becomes the only way to assess our interactions. So everyone will feel like they must traverse the entire route, intensified by a mandate of responsibility to honor the victims and celebrate Patriotism.

That’s a shame because it appears (I have to note this because there apparently is something wrong with the Internet, making it impossible to publish a detailed or even readable plan of anything) that their handling of the entry is the most humane and interesting thing suggested since the rebuilding began. Of course, this might be a result of complete and total disinterest in security (or simply successful relocation). And if you think they won’t make you take your belt off to get in the symbol of freedom at the center of American immigration, let me buy you a ticket to the Statue of Liberty. A massive ramp that lifts off the ground with out soaring or imposing, it does something no other plan or concept shown so far has: it invites you to mill about, with direction or not, like, well a plaza should.

The building itself is a exercise in modernist skinning and computer pyrotechnics. Which is simply my curmudgeonly way of saying that I can’t quite tell what it is. It looks pretty, but since it lacks much detail in the way of assembly details, materials, or any articulation (if it hasn’t been made clear yet, seamless glass facades don’t do it for me), it’s hard to have a fixed opinion. It looks like a great deal of wood has been used, and that should be helpful, up against Calatrava’s metal butterfly and the memorial, which, I’m sorry to say, looks like two construction pits in the renderings. The various views are different enough that it’s hard to determine how the glass will be treated.

Overall, the building is squat, and, based on the information Ourousoff provides, only going to get more ungainly in form. Again, Snøhetta can only be faulted so much. Because they had this misfortune of coming later, and not soaring enough (or winning the Pritzker), they are forced to eat a number of program requirements that seem ill-advised. That their building looks like a complete and freestanding concept, rather than one that services two important program requirements that the master of engineering couldn’t fit on his site (well, one, light, it an effect of siting).

It’s not great, yet, though it may well be. Once the actual Freedom Center has a program (you think they are going to share it with the public first? Oh, the irony will fill many a drunken nights of Marxist literary critics and Orwell fans. Disclosure: I am, of course, both), perhaps the ramp can be modified. I’m just speculating. Still far from execution, I’ll settle for saying this is the outline of a good thing, the first time that has happened for the WTC site.

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Not that I want to be typecast or anything.

Is it too early to be hatin’ about Foster’s new Hearst Tower? I’m just asking.

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No, now they have really won.

This is a site that relishes superlatives and wallows in vitriol (or so some say). So it takes quite a effort to compel me to reach for loftier heights of derision, but it’s a sad day when I have to. I used to think the worst example of callous, self-interested behavior I witnessed as regard the WTC came the day after, when I overhead two men, oblivious to the streams of people carting supplies from wherever they could to the depot at Chelsea Piers, discuss taking a ski trip in Argentina “because airline tickets will be so cheap now”. Surely there were grander and most officious slights to follow, but something about proximity and indifference made this moment most acute. Now, to my dismay and fury, I must set the bar higher. I would say I expect it to be a threshhold that cannot be superceded, but it’s only Wednesday, and who knows what this worthless human being will do by the end of the week. If anyone gets within arms’ reach of this man, will you do me a favor and punch him in the face as hard as you can (aim low, he’s short)? Not just one of you: all of you. Everyone.

Trump mentioned that he will draw attention to the proposal during this week’s live broadcast of “The Apprentice.” The model will “probably” be displayed during the broadcast of the highly rated show, Trump said, “so the whole country can see it.”

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