Lend me some sugar, I will be your neighbor.

Brooklyn development blah blah, gentrification drives out all the artists blah blah, what’s next a Starbucks? Blah blah. I clearly have nothing to add; I really just wanted an excuse to write that headline. Props to Curbed for two, two relevant cultural references in one hed. We just enjoy being juvenile once in a while.

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The hardest working man in the memorial business.

New Jersey has announced the winner of a memorial dedicated to residents who died in the WTC attacks, one Frederic Schwartz. If this is a familiar name, it’s because he was recently announced as the designer of a memorial in Westchester County (titled, ‘The Rising’ perhaps to appeal to the New Jersey jury?). And he was a member of the THINK design team that most everyone believed would ‘win’ the site concept competition (because one of the three designs they submitted received a plurality of the public voting).

The Times provides the details, and some insight into just how rudderless their criticism is sans Muschamp. Clearly respecting the clout of the Families of September 11 they take pains to quote a representative who declares the salient differences between the New Jersey and New York approaches quite concisely: “it will be above ground and the families of the victims chose the design.” Well, I guess we can tell what the FO911 thinks of Mr. Arad. And they reproduce a submission brief comment that the type used for the unavoidable wall of names is Times New Roman “a familiar and easy-to-read typeface.” Particularly to users of Microsoft worldwide.

Schwartz had previously displayed a design concept on his site for Hoboken (or so my memory dictates) that would be a glass wall with a ramp that rose from side to side, the wall parallel to the river, so you would see the empty (for now) site through the wall, and could progress up the ramp, reading, presumably, the 700 names. If was a far more elegant solution. The selected idea is two parallel stainless steel walls that run along an visual axis that terminates at the WTC site, the effect being that when you approach it along the viewing axis, the image of the Twin Towers will be recreated. The concept may be laudable, but viewed from any other angle, the effect is somewhat fearsome and oppresive. And the remainder of the site seems rather slapdash. I’m trying to avoid seeming callous or crass here, but as the number of satellite memorials continue to be announced, some in view of the proposed site memorial, do we go down the road of making each location-specific site the only place a name is displayed? Using the logic of this memorial suggests we should we develop a Manhattan-specific site as well. Isn’t this Balkanization (particularly as it encroaches visually on the site itself) counter to what supposedly seperates us from them, that so many disparate peoples collected and worked together each day in relative harmony?

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People of New York, we humbly present — GowCa.

Places everyone! We’ve gone over this a number of times, so let’s try and do this with a minimum of error. Opening date has been announced, and it’s a good ways off (mid-2007), so there is still plenty of room for new cast members. If you move now, you can still qualify as a curmudgeonly local who wearily decries the hordes of Brown graduates and ‘East Williamsburg’ refugees who are ruining your secret thing. Bonus points if you start a faux revolutionary group that threatens to sabotage the new filtration system, hoping the resulting smell with drive out the johnny-come-latelies. Call yourself the Smith Street Reclamation Society and open a coffee shop/free store. Make a logo with the face of Che and the name ‘Gary’ under it. Now, get to work people! Productions like this don’t happen on their own!

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The day the Atlantic Center died.

Tomorrow is a big day. So big that they moved up that CPA ceremony– okay that joke only runs so far, and we didn’t even think it up. So banish that, since yesterday presages only more strife and discontent elsewhere. Here, we have much smaller fish to fry. Before we get to that, let’s touch briefly on the state of service journalism in the city. I, like, I am sure, many provinical hopefuls, used to read the Village Voice (even before I got here) as some bellwether of a place we all hoped the world could become. And we looked those who deigned to speak negatively of it as outlanders, all simply frustrated at the margins. I have lived here long enough that I can remember when the release of the Voice was a physical event. The newsstand in front of the Astor Place Starbucks used to be the newsstand in front of an really mediocre diner. Each Tuesday, people would begin to line up in the late afternoon, since the very first editions would be delivered sometime between 7 and 9 to that newsstand, and the phones would begin to light up immediately. I haven’t lived here so long that cell phones weren’t always first mover advantages, but close. See, before the Internet, getting an apartment hinged getting Voice, as soon as possible. That wasn’t online listings updated daily, but physically putting your hands on a copy the moment it was available. Sure, it was a bit of an overrated myth, but it was a good trial by fire for all the recent converts. And it was fun to watch, once you were ensconced in your rent stabilized closet. It made the Voice essential, for those few hours Tuesday night. The other thing that made the Voice required reading was the best two goddamned pages of sports reporting in this city. Allen St. John, Allen Barra, these were folks who loved sports and who had politics that didn’t make you wince. Hell, sometimes they did, but they wrote, they wrote like madmen, stuffing everything they could into the slim allotment they had, facing a welter of sex ads (who remembers their fake sex ads delivered as a homage to Marv Albert?). And now they are gone again. And I’m creeping towards middle age and look derisively on the Voice like every other posturing old crank.

In its place we have the New York Sports Express. Led by the able hand of Matt Tiabbi, forget any animosity you might have towards that Russ fella, sent back to Balitmore, where he belongs, the NYSX is the blast of inspired sports writing you seek. The Blotter, a listing of the criminal ways of sports figures, is priceless. And they track the maundering of NY sports owners in The Biz. This week, they point out that the future of Atlantic Yards hinges on the (likely rubber stamp) vote on June 30 by the NBA Board of Governors of Bruce Ratner’s purchase of the NJ Nets. If you have any smoldering ill will, and photos of Mark Cuban in compromising positions, you have about 24 hours to make your opposition known. Otherwise, consign yourself to hopeless lefty chanting in front of cyclone fencing on Flatbush Avenue for the next five years.

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We do what we can.

The Times reports on a new program announced by the city that provides incentive financing for Mitchell-Lama projects. Mitchell-Lama was one of the most forward-looking housing programs in the twentieth century, enabling a number of large apartment projects to be financed with goal of providing affordable housing for middle income earners. The most notable success was Stuyvesant Town, developed by MetLife in the 40’s. The program was so successful that many developers are buying out their mortgages and converting the units to market rate rentals. Stuyvesant Town is already gone, and Independence Plaza, in TriBeCa, is teetering (the city did broker a deal to keep Independence Plaza North tenants in their homes; Independence Plaza South is still awaiting a vote, though there the issue is ownership, not retention of leases). Unfortunately, this program is elective, and the city hopes for the best, but if you’ve rented an apartment in this town recently, or are a sentient being, you know that there’s money in them thar hills, and the carrot might not be juicy enough. Aside from simply paying off landlords directly, this is about as much as the city can be expected to do, and it’s good to see a commitment to finding some way out of the dead end road that is affordable housing in New York.

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Hey, there’s an empty lot! Cover it with a nasty institutional behemoth, stat!

Doing a fine bit of muckracking, The Villager details the ownership on two strips of land that ideally should be controlled by the city, but actually belong to NYU. Ideally, we say, since it’s one of those situations where a lot tut-tut-ing goes on about how NYU is really a benevolent land owner, and then you wake up one day and someone is tearing down Edgar Allen Poe’s home. Or, as the article points out, building Bobst Library.

The more interesting of the two is the Time Landscape, the strip of inaccessible park on the east side of LaGuardia Place (just north of Houston). For years, this plot has been carefully tended and untended in an attempt to recreate what is thought to be an example of what a ‘native’ Manhattan landscape would comprise. That it was intended by Robert Moses to be a central element in his Faustian vision for a freeway blighted Manhattan makes it ironic in the simpleton way even an NYU freshman would understand (that’s right — I’ll never be welcome at Dojo, a distinction I am completely comfortable with).

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They can call it the East River Pipe(line).

Curbed linked up to the Bloomberg interview (reprinted by Architect) with Richard Rogers, who, along with SHoP Architects, won a limited competition to renovate the lower segment of the FDR (one of his ideas is burying the drive itself). For more details, the Lower Manahattan info site has a reasonably in-depth look at the competition, with too-small thumbnails of all the finalists, including the second team-up (the first being the plywood viewing stand overlooking the WTC site) of that most inexplicable collaboration: Rockwell/Diller, Scofidio & Renfro.

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Called on the carpet.

The Times has a pretty provincial ‘gee whiz’ piece (used to enter his house through a window! so kooky! ) on an installation by Rudolf Stingel, ‘Plan B’, opening in the Vanderbilt Hall at Grand Central Terminal this week (July 1). Lasting throughout July, it consists of 27,000 square feet of carpet, derived from a stock pattern (Stingel refers to his work as painting). A companion 7,500 square feet are being displayed by the Walker Art Center in Minneapolis. Holiday travel will likely obviate our ability to see it firsthand until mid-month, so we’ll hold off on the ‘I don’t know art, but I know what I like’ incredulity until we actually see it.

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Boreing.

While no one is sure what is going to happen on top of the Hudson Rail Yards, and the result is certain to be a sea change for the neighborhood, what’s going on underneath it is as important, but far less visible. In the southeast corner (at 31st and Tenth Avenue), there is an anonymous apparatus churning away. It is the outlet of the extraction unit removing rubble from the construction of Tunnel No. 3. Chronicled in The New Yorker a few months back (not archived online, apparently), and popularized by Die Hard III, Tunnel No. 3 is the lifeline for the New York of the 21st century. Planned decades ago, and under construction most of my life (while taking two dozen away), most of us will never see it, and never suspect its importance in our daily life. For the next decade or so, evidence of its making will be in the form of several intrusive sites where access shafts are driven. The exact points will remain under contention, since their apperance will be accompanied by the device currently in view, and blasting. Lots of blasting (there is an understated sign that explicates the signifying marks in the form of whistles and horns). It’s likely that very soon one is coming to the meat packing district. It will be about as welcome as a Jean Nouvel building, but if you go in for that kind of thing (most of my friends are resigned to the fact that coming across a hole in the ground will distract my attention for several minutes; once I ended up talking about the Verizon 10-K with an employee of Empire City Subway who was repairing a ruptured phone trunk line at 5AM), it’s an interesting diversion for a few minutes. Who knows, maybe Bruce Willis will come shooting out of the ground.

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Cars still win.

Welcome to the fourteenth century. The Wall Street Journal chronicles the new jargon and design considerations that creep in as more buildings require ‘hardening.’ Bollards, barriers, clear distances, and the like are the latter-day versions of moats and perimeter walls, all designed to stop the proverbial truck laden with explosives. It’s interesting, but not surprising, considering the source, that no one is asked to speculate on methods that don’t start with the presumption that vehicles must be allowed in city centers with so little control that bollards become the inevtiable accompaniment to every courthouse in an urban area. None of the strategies discussed minimize the possibility of smaller but more deadly options (nuclear or biological agents), or how to handle threats from compromised systems (if someone packs the Aramark van with C-4). Nope. Entire industries are springing up to counter exactly one threat. One that, in probably 70% of high risk areas (basically, DC and NYC), could be countered by changing policies about vehicle access. So a big lump of granite is a ‘creative’ solution? How about vehicle-free CBD’s? (via The Morning News)

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