Every breath you take.

Today Gawker launched a fairly unimpressive upgrade to their ‘Gawker Stalker’ feature (which is people sending in their celebrity sightings, the more salubrious details the better, which are posted same day), adding a mapping function, and encouraging people to submit information as quickly as possible (though the posting is moderated, so the timeliness may be lacking). I say unimpressive a little petulantly because, like every undermotivated, arch, aging hipster, I had a better idea for this a long time ago.

A few years back I remember coming across a report about a kidnapping threat involving Russell Crowe. This may have been big news, but I am not really abreast of the Us Weekly set. Anyhoo, it was reported that he was assigned FBI protection. I remember being somewhat indignant for two reasons: one, the danger was causally related to his professional existence, the benefits of which made him more than able to procure his own protection and, two, he was a foreign national! Let Australia send their version of the FBI out to protect their national treasure. This, of course, was well before we learned that his fighting skills were impressive even when faced with only the limited weapon choice of office equipment.

I had a plan to launch a website, Kidnap Russell Crowe! which would be a map/database affair where people could report all their sightings, so if one actually was inclined to do the deed, they could find the information quickly. Figuring I didn’t need any FBI attention myself, I stopped at making the logo (this was also the days before Busted Tees, so I lost out on my Web 1.1 millions).

I didn’t feel bad circulating the idea, because the role of the celebrity is a strange one, all signifier, consuming frightening amounts of resources, skewing notions of identity, trickling down into the truly pathetic spectacle of reality shows and dispersing the faulty notion that everyone can be a celebrity in some form. It’s an input/output problem: you make a film that needs 40 million people to pay to see it for you to succeed (and get paid), you have to take some downside, right?

I figured the site would simply be a democratic weapon in the fight against mindless hagiography. The organized effort to command the attention of the populace and focus it on someone reciting words someone else has written is substantial, it is mostly unforgiving, and lacks any sense of community.

The advent of the celebrity for its own sake — which to be sure, has been around in one guise of another for some time, but has gotten particularly fevered of late — is a logical extension of our obsession with fame. But it is not as simple as the mindless distraction of a comfortable society. It leaks into every corner, where the pursuit of fame becomes its own end, and that pursuit is undertaken with frightening ferocity, and once realized, is leveraged for putative expertise or authority on any range of subjects. The model is grafted onto every profession where there isn’t a hard and fast arbiter of value (say, home runs, but even that is fungible, it seems).

Gawker is coy about whether it stands outside, or squarely in the zone of this circle jerk, a stance that was codified when the founders of the last real satiric voice in this city went on to helm Vanity Fair and New York magazines. And since it in and of itself is a vehicle for fame with a low threshold of skill, it is sometimes hard to determine whether the jibes are only the grousing of those not yet in the club of useless celebrity.

And it’s a really poor implementation. We should have far more sophisticated tools at this stage. Then again, since they aren’t really fighting the process that much (it is quite the golden goose), it will be up to others to deploy the artillery that might tamp down the desire to be so maniacally promoted.

Am I advocating violence here? No. But there must be a point at which where the endless promotion of one’s persona becomes debilitating enough that they retreat. Felix Salmon thinks that setting off down this road sunders some fragile relationship New Yorkers have with celebrity, but he misses the point of that dialectic. New Yorkers ignore celebrities because the notion that deference to someone as superior is an anathema to their own self-involved notion of accomplishment.

The question is a little larger than whether or not it’s fair to develop a web site with an RSS feed that tells you when Paris Hilton takes a shit (really, that’s thinking a bit small when you consider GPS and mobile-to-mobile communications technologies). After all, the woman got famous by flashing her cooch at all of us.

The question is how we will define space and community, and the fact the every pseudo libertarian trust model built into the various online ‘communites’ (which are increasingly affecting how and when we interact in the ‘real world’) has been either poorly implemented or easily circumvented. When everyone is carrying around a sort of self-stalking tool like Dodgeball on their cell phone, the degradation of interaction in the city will not be manifest in the disappearance of silence or privacy when Lou Reed gets brunch, but rather in the secretive communications that will silently float from phone to phone.

Celebrity stalking is a self-regulating process. As long as Paris Hilton is trying to get our attention, people will respond in kind (and really, how long until some down at the heel C-Lister starts sending in fabricated sightings, if it hasn’t already happened?). But we will only hear about Lou Reed’s brunch choices so many times, because not that many people care. Remember, John Hinckley didn’t need the Internet to commit a heinous act.

But how we can prevent ‘social networking software’ (a noxious misnomer if there ever was one) from degrading the happenstance, the spontaneous, the yes discomforting interactions this city often requires is an even thornier issue. In the meantime, if we can make it a little less attractive of the Lindsay Lohans of this world to be so thoroughly visible, well, I can’t really see how that is a loss for our local culture.

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Nothing to see here, folks.

Last Tuesday the New York New Visions committee held another presentation/listening session to a rather profound silence — from the media, even as the room was packed with design professionals, interested observers, and generally angry and frustrated citizens of many stripes.

The evening featured presentations from the new head of the LMDC, Stefan Pryor, and Steven Plate, a long-time employee of the PANYNJ who is currently in charge of capital projects (if my notes are accurate). Each had a PowerPoint presentation to accompany the talk. In keeping with the tenor of the evening, each was light on details, rich with accolades, appreciation and praises for all the talented people and hard work. It seemed at times like the talking points and style had been developed by Karl Rove, and the awkward non-answers were as painful to witness as the pathetic stylings of Scott McLellan.

Mr. Plate fared best, with more to report, and perhaps a greater level of comfort with addressing rooms full of capable and engaged opponents of bureaucracy — including the last questioner who asked Mr. Plate to comment on the irony that the PANYNJ is not required to submit (and hadn’t, until the Times reported it) plans for any part of the site to the City of New York, even though the city is obliged to provide fire protection.

Mr. Pryor, well, I think everyone just felt sorry for him. Kevin Rampe did a bang up job of constructing the chairship of the LMDC as a free-fire zone of duplicity, insiderism and bureaucratic intransigence, leaving Mr. Pryor holding a tattered and overweighted bag. As much as I don’t envy his position, he did nothing in his presentation to garner much empathy, compounding a perhaps excusable bumbling manner with an inelegant command of information and tendency to show the worst of all meeting management skills: not recognizing when being conciliatory forced him to make statements that were clearly unsupportable by actual or planned policy. This is the ultimate legacy of the Bush administration, writ small: keep nodding, claim you work hard, and repeat the question back as answer, and in two hours you get to go home. Dispatching this team to the Center for Archtecture would have been an insulting travesty if I weren’t confident that we saw the best and the brightest that the WTC planning process could produce.

There were a couple items mentioned that may or may not be news; I’ve been more or less willfully ignoring downtown, so I’ll report it all as if it were news. Apologies to those more interested readers who find it retread:

The theme of the evening was interconnection, meaning that the discussion would attempt to address the infrastructure and planning elements more than discrete structures (which meant everyone got to pretend the Freedom Tower didn’t exist). Consequently, this meant focus on the Memorial and PATH station, which, due to their complex program and siting, are the central components to review.

Unfortunately we saw nothing in detail that explicated how they actually come together. Whereas fairly detailed information was revealed on the forms themselves, none was given regarding entrances, exits, where things join or how. Though there was a good bit of time devoted to the Memorial discussion, so much of it was old news or simply lacking detail, I took no notes. They tested a mockup of waterfall, which was widely reported weeks ago. Snohetta was given a bit of a door prize in being invited to design the entrance to the Memorial on the western edge of the site (no images of the structure, or even how it works with the Memorial).

The plans for the PATH station shown included details on the ‘West Street Concourse’ (a subterranean connection to Battery Park City), which abuts the upper edge of the footprint of the North Tower, but there wasn’t any indication of the vertical relationship. It will have a ribbed ceiling that mirrors the structural system of the ‘Oculus’ and feature retail along, presumably, the north wall. The other (non-platform) concourses also run hard up against the memorial complex, but interconnections were not indicated, nor discussed.

A new — to me — and rather disturbing detail was revealed: due to security concerns, the perimeter of the PATH station will be solid concrete up to ten feet (though this number was disputed by Mr. Plate). So the two projects that have cleared design development and security review both will be completely opaque at street level.

Which is perhaps good, since it was also noted that streetscape improvements are currently unfunded. Though this sounds like a bureaucratic squabble (the PANYNJ calls it unfunded — when queried about the potential issue, Mr. Pryor said it ‘would be funded’ and Mr. Plate immediately asked if that was a commitment of money, and it seemed at that point like this was well-trod ground), it still made many audience members clearly unsettled. Mr. Plate was also exceptionally dodgy (if such relative measures were possible in the midst of this equivocation-rich display) about the status of Cortlandt Street, which until the recently released sketches of the retail component, was always expected to be remade into a surface street.

It seemed that at least the funding for the street design is in place, and some consideration was given, but this information came from an aside, and certainly no information or images were given. So if one were being pessimistic (not an unfair conclusion given the tenor of the proceedings), it is possible to assume that so far the development progress goes something like this: architects are given a very vague program, but a command to create showpiece baubles for promotion, then the security people and families gang up on security issues and propriety, respectively, and the program is finally resolved while the design undergoes a transformation leading to impenetrable sheathing from the ground up to an unspecified but daunting height, all while the space between these structures is receiving no design consideration, schematic or security planning, and who or when the streets will get built is completely unknown. This describes a failure, yes, I am forced to say is once again somehow more extreme and profoundly abysmal (I really need to get a new thesaurus if I am going to continue writing about this topic) than the last time this issue was visited. The LMDC could go a long way to prove this is an overheated claim by releasing any street-level renderings of the interstitial spaces.

Moving on to other even more nebulous program elements, the Performing Arts Center is in ‘schematic development’ but primarily at the ground level (where infrastructure interconnections to the immediately adjacent buildings, all of which will start construction this quarter, are going to need to be resolved). No information about building design was given (though a roomful of overeducated architects were given a four minute lesson on Gehry’s performing arts experience — maybe that’s in his contract). Excepting the already announced $50 million commitment from the LMDC, no status was given about the fundraising requirements being placed on the two arts groups expected to take residence there, nor was there any discussion of any potential or existing legal relationships (building ownership, etc.) struck or pending. The words ‘Freedom Center’ were not uttered, a notable oversight, considering that my best understanding of the site is the main entrance of which is about two hundred feet to the west, and like to share considerable amounts of subterranean space for infrastructure support.

The first question was the one I intended to ask, and the response was succinct and immediate. The PANYNJ still expects to construct 10MM square feet of building, though Mr. Plate hewed a genial path of conciliation about what it might actually comprise (residential, commercial or hotel) — a ‘we will build whatever they tell us’ the they being only vaguely defined.

Still pending are the ‘commercial design guidelines’ which, if I understood the discussion correctly, will guide the architectural developmen
t of all the buildings on the site. Rick Bell of the AIA asked if there was a delivery date (since ‘two months from now’ has been the standard answer for two years), but none was offered. It was also noted that the only structures that would seem to lag enough to actually be affected by the guidelines (Towers 3, 4 and 5), but the comment that this effort would seem to be moot was brushed aside. A query about how the process was evolving also was poorly addressed. There was no confirmation that any architects were participating, and if there we a logical place for Libeskind to be active, it would be here.

So, to recap, in a discussion about integration and interconnection, we were told that the guidelines that would address the aesthetic development overall are still in development (as they have been for several years), that the monies to design and build the site portions that will actually form the interconnections have not been allocated, no details were given about how the various elements would come together, either conceptually or even at the mundane level of entrance and exit, that one street remapping initially announced is likely to be undone, and the security plans to protect all the people who will eventually come to the site will not be released for several months, after the three major site components are under construction. Have I missed anything? It’s hard to say, since the people ostensibly in charge seem to have missed all of it.

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Tattered York, Tattered Visions.

This evening the New York, New Visions group is holding a — well, I’m not sure what they are calling it this go around. It’s not a listening session (cause that would take way too long), and apparently the last effort to make it seem like privileged information was being disseminated (it was ‘off-the-record’) has been abandoned, since they have figured out how to effectively eliminate the input of anyone not named Burlingame from the process. So tonight, at the Center for Architecture, there will be a ‘discussion of the planning and projects currently underway at the World Trade Center site’ (NB: this info via Polis). Oddly, they have scheduled two hours — that’s plenty of time to look at barren worksite. Trying to dig up information from the last session (eighteen months ago), I find numerous markers for all manner of failing: Pataki saying he wanted to see steel in the air by 2006, Rampe demanding we build 10MM square feet of spec office space or risk dishonoring the dead. Rememeber not even knowing who Debra Burlingame was?

The New York New Visions site itself doesn’t seem to have been updated in two years. Not that I’m in a big hurry — it only seems that the push that excused such poor planning and decision making was justified because haste was framed as the proper response to events. Since that haste is clearly not in evidence, perhaps we can jettison the work to date? Fiscal prudence, logic, good design; none of these were in any evidence over the past four-plus years, so pressing forward doesn’t seem to be a reasonable reward for ineptitude.

Anyway, I plan to trudge on over there, suffer more meaningless platitudes about how things really aren’t a keystone cops affair behind the curtain. There is a Q&A, and I have my question ready (I want to ask the new LMDC head if they have stated position on commercial space development — that is, with Rampe gone and Silverstein broke, do they see the 10MM as a mandate, or have they developed a more nuanced position on demand and development, and is there any interim strategy to deal with the site?). If you can’t make it, and have a better one, send it along. Most likely I’ll just stand there and fume, but either way, a surly recap is forthcoming.

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Housing for the Rest of Us: Spring Creek, Part II

NOTE: Last week (okay, I’m running a little slow here), I wrote up the context and background of Spring Creek Houses, a public-private development in East New York. Today is a discussion about the design proper.

The actual housing units at Spring Creek were designed by Alexander Gorlin, who has maintained a healthy mix of high end residential and commercial work with affordable housing and several school projects (he’s best known, likely, as the designer of Libeskind’s loft on TriBeCa).

His approach seems to have been a vigorous and idealistic engagement of the process at all levels (even to the point where his firm attempted to coordinate site work so that multiple utilities wouldn’t be digging up streets in succession to run lines, only to find to his dismay that no one in the bureaucratic monster that is New York could alleviate this, or even saw it as a problem). The results cannot be measured in the typical shelter porn press way. That is not to say they aren’t impressive on their merits, but only that there is very little relationship between what you see in the pages of Dwell and what was possible in this context.

And the context, in this case, is all about density. The urban planning discussed last week, the type distribution, the use possibilities, all were driven by a cost-conscious consideration of the number of units possible. Only two of the 700 planned are mixed use. Aside from the practical problem of a somewhat remote site supporting retail, there was no possibility of recommending more retail, since the density necessary to make the numbers work inhibited such a goal. The proximity of the shopping center should help somewhat in practical terms, but it is unfortunate that more couldn’t be supported from a purely local culture perspective.

The theories and strategies that undergird each generation of housing planning all dance around the fact that as a culture we show little interest in taking a communal response to housing — unless of course, it comes to the color of our grass. So the physical type is altered every couple years in response to the presumption of failures of previous ideals. No doubt there are social ills present in public housing, but the physical rarely drives the social. Most times is it siting (developing the least attractive lots of subsidized housing), a lack of programming for the residents or a long-term commitment to institutional support that leads to decay.

That’s not to say that design intervention doesn’t have an impact, but rather that they changes are incremental at best — and are worth pursuing — but that perhaps the vagaries of fashion have a disproportionate impact. The current strategy is the creation of infill housing that mirrors the immediate context, and, when possible, provides direct access to the street from each unit. A minor point, but one found to have important psychological effects (a greater sense of safety and ownership), even though it is hardly the norm in many parts of the city.

Another major site decision was to push the buildings to the front of the lot. Across Brooklyn and Queens, there is a precedent for front or rear yards. Here the decision was driven by the belief that a more unified streetwall would provide long term value — both aesthetically and economically. It was also part of the long-term evolution of the design.

Gorlin toured housing sites in Europe with Nehemiah representatives, researching social housing solutions that weren’t in regular evidence here. The results of which are evident in earlier schemes, with a much stronger horizontal character.

Cost considerations (and, if I recall, manufacturing challenges) obviated this approach. Rather than water down the concept, the units were refashioned as more discrete units. Though there was consideration of the patterning the conjoined units will create, the approach is far more of a traditional townhouse model you find both here and in other older urban areas.

I say manufacturing, because one of the interesting innovations of the project is that all of the units will be pre-manufactured. This strategy has been part of the Nehemiah Houses in previous stages, with Capsys, a local company that manufactures in the Brooklyn Navy Yard, providing 700 units for the last major initiative.

The units will be built floor-by-floor at the factory, trucked to the site, and then craned into place. What is exceptional about these units is their 20-foot wide footprint. One of the more onerous restrictions of manufactured housing is the nationwide limit on oversized vehicles (currently 15 feet) traveling interstate highways. Because transit from the Navy Yard to East New York can be surface streets only, this limitation was removed. Of course, when I asked the Capsys folks about the challenges of shipping a 20-foot wide house section (weighing 70,000 lbs) through Brooklyn, I got a hopeful grin and admission that they haven’t yet tried it (though they have about 2,000 attempts coming to get it right).

While the concept is somewhat original, the process is very familiar. The floors are stick-built (meaning, traditional framing) by teams. The impact of assembly production is somewhat evident. Teams are organized by trade, each working a station, with the floor units move laterally to the next station. This would pretty much happen on site, except the structure would be stationary, with the teams moving down a line.

The advantages of this process are the ability to work year-round with minimal weather impact and some economies of scale in materials, resulting in traditional building standards (meaning a nominal increase in quality over traditional manufactured housing) at a discount to typical construction costs. The Spring Creek houses are targeted in the neighborhood of $145/sq ft (depending in the borough, this is upward of a 20% savings — and Capsys is a union shop).

Like the density concerns, prices are very closely watched, since one can track the path from design ideal to monthly mortgage cost pretty easily. The result of this concern is that you won’t find any sleek detailing on the interior: sheetrock, hollow core doors and a monochrome paint finish are the standard. The plans are pretty straightforward, and as much consideration as possible has been given to the window openings and locations, and making the space planning as efficient as possible. But the fact of the matter is that $145/ft doesn’t get you a whole lot. Decisions as fine as wanting to step the units in and out along the streetwall had to be eliminated due to cost. The effect of some of the concepts could be measured in increments as small as dollars, or dollar, per square foot. But when you are trying to make housing available to families of four earning $40,000 yearly, those dollars magnify quickly.

As is typical when value engineering rationalizes the construction methods and materials so rigidly, you maximize your discretionary leverage where it is most profound. Utilizing a consistent window size, by varying size of opening, and exterior color, some dozen plus variants will be achieved, a mix of two, three and four-story units (which have a maximum of three dwellings).

The result is a solid, attractive solution. Another wrinkle in the process has been the formation of a semi-homeowner’s association, designed to regulate some of the finishes. It’s one of those architect diva moves that also ties to extant data: a number of inner city developments have succeeded by aping some of the homeowner’s association gambits you see elsewhere (like lawn color regulation). The logic is that applying the strictures of
what is normally perceived as an affluent housing condition will encourage a similar level of community involvement (a development in urban Dayton manage to reduce crime by making a suburban cul-de-sac’s in the 90’s) .

Where does that leave us? Look, I’m past the point where I can fairly wear the filter of critical analysis of what works. I look at multi-million dollar apartments (online, albeit) all day long. I grew up in a house that rents for a sliver of what you pay, and I have lost the critical lens. Some academic suck telling they still have it is lying. The previous, Amsterdam-influenced scheme resonated more for me (and no doubt it did for everyone else). But if everyone in this city who made $40K had a chance to own a place like this, we would be far better off. The problem is not the detailing of an entrance. The problem is the scarcity of projects like this. Anyone who has done a project where economy is the key driver has myriad regrets. That’s not to say I have evidence of many; rather, the complexity of managing all the components and circumstances means that pinpointing when a particular decision was made ex post facto is pointless. I, like the Nehemiah people, like Gorlin, we all wish they weren’t staring down the barrel at $145. But for those numbers, it’s still quite an accomplishment.

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Housing for the Rest of Us: Spring Creek.

This is the first in a series of discussions of housing up and down (well, down and up) the income scale. Three projects will be discussed in detail, with posts separated by particular issues. The first project is Spring Creek Houses in East New York, the result of a public-private partnership that aims to provide home ownership to low- and moderate-income residents. Today’s discussion is about housing policy and funding, and the site. Later in the week will be a post about the proposed housing units.

The latest real estate bubble did not make New Yorkers more attuned to the significance of home ownership and value; it simply made the tone a bit more shrill. As a friend noted upon arriving, only two things are discussed in this town: where you live, and how you get there.

The recent trends indicate record home ownership in the city. Even though the prices in some areas make purchasing a seemingly irrational economic decision, the effects of this growth are being felt in the rental market, with rates being pushed (though the key indicator — ratio of income spent on housing — has grown more due to flat or falling real wages).

The latest numbers show, nonetheless, it is far better to own. And given our relatively low median wages (compared to the cost of living across the city), the percentage point changes that many of us look at as a step up or down in vacation plans are more keenly felt when trying to support a family on $36,000.

Recent data shows that the poorest neighborhoods pay the largest proportion of their monthly income for rent, even when public or Section 8 housing is available. A red-zone indicator is 50% or greater of income spent on housing. Across the board, a smaller number of homeowners spend over 50% on housing in all classes (except those is public housing and rent controlled tenants in Manhattan).

There are two reasonable conclusions: build more public housing, or get more poor residents into homeownership opportunities. Given the history of public housing, and urban ‘re-development’ (many of our most blighted neighborhoods used to be stable communities with a high proportion of resident ownership until Robert Moses decided that white people from Connecticut shouldn’t have to take the train to the city), home ownership seems far preferable.
Either one is a clear commitment to subsidy; given that unit construction is still part of any program, helping increase ownership doesn’t seem like a bad idea. But I’m not in possession of any particular knowledge to make this case. It just seems pretty rational.

The Bloomberg administration agrees, though less than the Ferrer administration planned to — Bloomberg is committed to creating 60,000 new units, whereas Ferrer was pushing for double that. Of course, in both instances, some numbers massaging upped those numbers, and regardless of real or inflated projects, Bloomberg is lagging a bit.

Are either that impressive? Well, the city has a current inventory of just over 3.2 million units, making 60,000 a 5% increase over 5 years. Overall additions to housing over the past ten years are considerably less, at 16,000 (meaning in increase, on average of one-half a percent between 1994 and 2004).

In terms of aiding the most needy, the increase is starker. Of the current inventory, just under 10% is public or Section 8 housing, meaning if Bloomberg hits his target, he will realize a 20% increase. What I couldn’t find were historic numbers, but my best recollections indicate that even this boom won’t bring the inventory back in line with numbers as recent as the early 80’s.

So how does it get made? In teensy increments, most of the time. Given the resources available (a half-dozen governmental agencies, several major research institutions, scores of NGO’s, community groups and churches, all whom have an interest in the issue), it’s amazing the more isn’t done. I’m not here to critique the will or assess the process (since I’m largely ignorant), but to talk about how a thousand homes get built.

Back in the 1980’s, a housing program grew out of the combined efforts of the Industrial Area Foundation (founded by legendary social antagonist Saul Alinsky) and local churches with the goal of building housing for ownership in Brooklyn and the Bronx. Known collectively as the Nehemiah Houses, over 3,000 houses have been built to date (part of a larger program sponsored by the city that added 13,000 units).

The current effort is bringing another 690 homes over the next several years to a former landfill in East New York. It’s a particularly brutal location. I don’t know East New York at all, so perhaps it doesn’t stand out as distinct, but relative to just about anywhere you or I have been is certainly is. Given the site prep has only begun, it’s hard to say what the final form will be. No doubt the immediate context will be just fine, but the views beyond are the issue — and they are fixed, and unfortunate. The view with the most potential — looking south to Jamaica Bay — is obscured by three immutable landmarks: the Belt Parkway, a Ratner Shopping Enterprise, and the remainder of the landfill, which rises enough in the sky to eliminate any sense that one is adjacent to water.

Working from the existing (mapped) grid — a revision would have been even more time consuming, an acute issue for a project that is over ten years in the making — a smaller scaled grid has been inserted, with a small amount of open space reserved. The best that could come of the relationship with the shopping complex would be the creation of an entrance fronting the development, but this is unlikely.

All told, it’s a solid, direct, planning exercise, marked both by a good set of principles and tempered by the strictest possible economic controls. There is little room for amenity because the public portion of this project is courtesy HPD (Housing Preservation and Development), which agreed to fund site work in exchange for the commitment to build the 700 units. The total cost will be upwards of $25 million (the expected investment is in the neighborhood of $250,000 per unit). The rather sizable figure is a result of the current condition. As a landfill, it requires topsoil remediation (digging, removal and re-grading), methane monitoring, streets and all the attendant infrastructure.

It’s this sort of investment that gets to the crux of the necessary commitment. That’s a big number for just about any governmental body. But it is also necessary to fairly measure opportunity cost for this versus other investments. As a comparator, Goldman Sachs received something on the order of 12 times this investment to retain an undisclosed number of jobs downtown (it’s questionable how many people they could have successfully relocated to Jersey City). And that cost is in line with construction costs for public housing units elsewhere (assuming nominal site prep). Considering the sad state of the lot now, the cost of bring high value real estate (owned homes bring far more stability to a blighted area, and almost always lead to overall economic expansion) makes this look like a pretty savvy investment. It has limited recurring costs and opens the possibility of spurring additional interest in an underdeveloped area (compare that to Goldman Sachs, which decided to build in horribly disadvantaged Battery Park City).

And if you were wondering about interest, well, the first stage lottery (about 120 units) resulted in twelve thousand applicants. That’s right: if the city could arrange to build infill housing in all the open lots of East New York, they would have thousands of qualified candidates ready and waiting. What’s stopping the city? Well, the obvious answer is money — but perhaps also willpower. After all, public spending is only a matter of priority. And as you try to measure that priority, bear in mind this is the largest subsidizing housing project current underway in the five boroughs.

NEXT UP: okay, everybody wants them, and they are getting built, at long last. But what do they look like?

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Your Hidden City.

Somehow, Chad Smith over at Tropolism believes that I would be less acerbic when judging the unwashed masses; that, or I’m supposed to be the British guy from American Idol for this gig. Either way, I’m here to support the effort to turn the mike at y’all. Blogging means everyone gets an opinion, no matter how long winded it is. But not everyone has so much ire or free time. So we’ve made it easy: send an image and some words about something you, um, love, about this city. Then we pick the best and post it or something. I haven’t gotten that far in the directions yet, but, helpfully, Chad has made things more concise and user friendly for y’all:

After a week of very subtle buildup, Tropolism is pleased to announce the first open-sourced architectural contest, Your Hidden City.

The contest is simple: post your photos (with a caption) to our public Flickr pool
(or email them to us for posting), and our jury will select their favorites in five categories. The winners will be posted to Tropolism.

The theme of the contest is uncovering the Hidden City, your Hidden City, the one you see every day. It may be in plain sight of everyone else, but it is your eye that finds the extraordinariness in a particular street corner, a unique stair, a crazy intersection, a visually arresting approach, or a particular tree in the city. The photographs can be of a beautiful (and perhaps unpublished) park, or as simple as the sun hitting a particular building at a particular time of day. Please include a caption, or a Flickr annotation, about what makes it extraordinary to you. The entries should have one thing in common: they demonstrate, to you, the pleasure of living in the city.

The jury is a set of bloggers who write about architecture, urbanism, and landscape design. They are:

Lisa Chamberlain of Polis and who also covers real estate for the New York Times
David Cuthbert of architechnophilia
Geoff Manaugh of BLDGBLOG
Shawn Micallef of Toronto Psychogeography Society Blog
Jimmy Stamp of Life
Without Buildings

and, yours truly.

The 5 Categories are:
Best Hidden Place
Best Density
Best Natural/Urban Overlap
Best Unofficial Landmark
Best Building

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Not enough trees grow in Brooklyn.

So I’m a little late to the Brooklyn waterfront redevelopment – are you surprised at all? – controversy. I was vaguely aware that some feathers were ruffled when private housing was abruptly introduced, but the usual practice of too abbreviated representations (have developers and architects figured out yet that this Interweb thingee can freely distribute all sorts of images and plans?) and the seeming inevitable opposition by aggrieved residents did not hold my interest.

Being near the Architectural League last week with an hour to kill, I stopped in to see the presentation of the site model, renderings and planning diagrams (and, sorry, it just closed). Wanting to do a little background research leads me to conclude that the while there were some strong elements, both as presentation and design solution, I’d say that it did not ‘teach the controversy’ very effectively.

I’m not adequately steeped in the past five years of planning – my knowledge is culled from the impressive archives of The Brooklyn Paper (who are so disapproving of the project that then only refer to the ‘park’ in air quotes), but if they are to be trusted, the short version is:

The park, like the now stalled Husdon Yards, is being developed by a public-private corporation (the Brooklyn Bridge Park Development Corporation – BBDPC). As such, it only needs state approval (meaning no ULURP). Therefore, many of the mechanisms that provide the opportunity for community feedback (or as some might choose to characterize it, interference), such as Community Board and City Planning Commission reviews, are not required.

Strategic direction was set after a series of community workshops and the like back in 2000. In late 2004, the BBDPC started holding quiet, semi-private meetings that unveiled a revamped concept which included for the first time private residential structures and a hotel. Since then, things have been rather ugly, including a session where van Valkenberg screamed at members of the public, renderings that misrepresented the size of the proposed new buildings, and all manner of high-handedness on the part of the BBDPC. The rationale for the residential towers was that the park need be self-supporting financially, and this is the only viable means. That, and the thin argument that the buildings would aid in sound attenuation

The presentation at Urban Center focused on the approved plan. Barring legal challenges, it would seem that before the end of the decade, the new vision for the Brooklyn waterfront will be realized. That vision is quite firmly rooted in the late twentieth century notion of urban park space: highly regimented program space for structuring the lives of over-managed children and fitness-crazed adults. And this is after a ‘Chelsea Piers-style’ activity center was scrapped. Oh, and a marina, because everyone in Clinton Hill has been itching for slips for years. The best thing about this sap to the bonus-bulging pockets of the Maserati and Cristal set is that it is not slated to produce any revenue for the park. That’s right, a subsidized marina (the stated explanation is that they aren’t certain someone will step forward to develop it; what isn’t clear is if this is the only way it will go forward).

The presentation does an excellent job of laying out the contextual conditions and limitations, and is the most comprehensive element. One senses that it was perhaps the last time that rational thought was the keystone for the thinking. Addressing the multiple challenges the site presented (noise, inadequate structural stability of some of the piers), it lays out a credible argument for the major schematic elements.

After that, the murky shoals of politics and money are not so well documented. One omission was a pedestrian connector to Montague Street, to which the head of the BBDPC and van Valkenberg gave differing rationales (he was quote as cutting off her budget constraint line with a more blunt observation that is was never pursued as a program priority). Why the buildings are sited as they are, or if other economic models were proposed (one discarded option was a big box store development) aren’t represented. Granted, this is a final model, but since the early stage planning was so carefully documented, there seems to be no reason not to incorporate the thinking behind the evolution.

The location of the new buildings and their bulk are not drastic in the model, though if you want to emphasize scale, you do ground level perspectives, and if you want de-emphasize it, you do a model. There are no contextual renderings of the residential buildings, so how this is spun in obvious. The model also omits the most important contextual element, which is the Promenade and the first line of structures immediately adjacent, which would give the best indicator of whether or not scenic view obstruction is a real concern.

The largest building, at the foot of Atlantic Avenue, struck me as a non-issue. Much was made of the opportunity lost for an grand entrance, but unless it connects to a different Atlantic Avenue, I’m not sure why this is so appealing. The Montague connector makes far more sense, since pedestrian approaches from the Heights would make more logical sense here.

The complaints that this unexpected revision will turn the park into a front yard for the wealthy have a ring of truth. But is it also true that people who live immediately proximate to public amenities tend to treat them (or try to) like private fiefdoms. After all, it’s not like the Kramdens are living on the Promenade.

What should be closely guarded against is the structure of the private corporation running the park and how its uses are regulated. Whereas Battery Park City never strikes me as overly exclusionary, I also am its target demographic. The charge that Dead End Kids won’t be able to gather to spontaneously partake in stickball is as antiquated as the notion that kids are able to do this anywhere. Finding play space for a pickup game of anything is not frustration limited to the green spaces adjoining the quarters of the rich.

The renderings fall victim to the High Line Disease, wherein we have really clever clip art of people pasted to green space, everyone looking appropriately ubran chic and happy, but aside from screaming “look how green” they don’t actually explain much. Few architectural details are evident. One of the compelling successes of the Hudson River Park is the simple and effective railing system that has occasional nodes that break up the pathway visually without inhibiting easy passage. No such representations are evident here. I can assume they are forthcoming, and I expect that sort of gripe only comes from certain quarters (such as this one), but it left me thinking not enough consideration had been given to details.

The most effective image, in terms of programming that really is inspiring, and provides a good sense of before and after, is that of ice skating under the Brooklyn Bridge. Currently, most of the area is closed off, a mixture of some DOT looking sheds and post 9/11 paranoia fencing. Which leads me to ask — is there any chance of this being realized?

Having done my research post hoc, I do wish I had seen the presentation in late January. Given how much work is yet to be done, and knowing that depending on public condemns one to erring on the side of diplomatic, my sense is that this process has been lengthy, frustrating, and more disappointing than not. That doesn’t mean the result can’t be a warm and welcome addition to our waterfront. But the process to date seems to indicate that nothing is sacrosanct, and new compromises lurk behind every corner.

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Luxhastion.

A recent post over at Polis called to mind an occasional discussion that creeps up as exhaustion from real estate vampirism sets in: the pervasiveness of luxury. Well, not luxury per se, but the presumption of, the claim of, the advertising of luxury. A luxury that is often not actually evident in the subsequent viewings, but in a town that never fails to develop new ways to adjectivize a 300 square foot space with a sliver jutting out into a ‘one-bedroom’, the marker at which a space is converted into luxury is a slippery one: a four burner stove? A functional door separating where you sleep from where you don’t? Hot water? A $2,000 studio? The list is endless.

The yardsticks one might conventionally use are hard to apply; real estate valuations are so out of whack that spending $2,500 a month for a walk up one bedroom may still be more economical than the mortgage that same space would require. Try telling someone that you spend $30 large on a one bedroom — they will start looking at you like a luxury fellow no doubt.

No, the luxury appellation is particularly grating because it is both a logical fallacy and an insult to the discriminating attitude of a town full of people who sneer at a $3,000 suit because it is still off the rack. Is every new apartment in New York luxurious? It’s like the old Steven Wright joke: somewhere out there is the worst doctor in the world — and someone has an appointment with them today (I try to be more diplomatic — I’ve always wanted to go into a meeting and announce that half the people in the room were the stupid people, and the meeting would be far more successful if they stayed quiet). Somewhere in this town is an apartment that isn’t ‘luxury’ — and I’m probably in it.

Beyond that, the particulars of luxury smack of the most inane of marketing gambits. Since we are all only a half-step from some version of the professional services monster (lawyer, consultant, broker, etc.), we are far too used to looking askance at the mindless repetition of phrases of ‘best of breed’, ‘mission critical’ and ‘taking things off-line.’  So not only are the pronouncements from brokers deceitful, but we are insulted by their simplistic construction.

It’s a style problem. How many brokers have you met that didn’t make you think that the only job qualification one needs is a certain oiliness? A willingness to lie relentlessly and untrammeled greed seem to be their only skills. Given that this, absent any other details, would describe most of the people living on Manhattan, what grinds is our belief that even if we are all just that, we’re at least smarter and better dressed than the hordes of greedy urbanites that gather in Dallas or Phoenix.

No, the most galling thing about luxury housing is the fact that we think it reflects badly on our own discretion. I don’t want anyone thinking I walked knowingly into some hack rehab or Costas Kondylis kit job because I believed it was somehow superior to the rest of the apartments listed, but rather, find myself again squoze by the mutiple vertices of time, available funds and expediency. I don’t even care so much that I can’t afford what might actually qualify as superior. Well, okay, I mind a little, but considering the time and effort I’ve put into attaining discernment and aesthetic superiority, this democratizing of design is not distressing because the presumption that everyone can have it, but that it can be had through simple effort of declaration.

So what out there would qualify? That’s the worst part. Tropolism is still building out a short list of what might qualify. It is woefully small, relative to any measure: other cities, number of new buildings going up. And they are, at the very least, qualifying of the unctuous luxury descriptor, at least on price. Step down the scale, it becomes a barren place.

Rather than sing the praises of these buildings, the majority of which could be far better, I’m just going to issue a very short list, some speculative, some assumed, of what might truly break into the territory pissy New Yorkers (like me) might acknowledge:

Leading the list, oddly, since very few people actually know what it looks like, is the 40 Bond Street project, from Herzog & de Meuron, picked solely for the most recent description, which sounds like exactly what you expect: a fascinating interrogation of materials based on the historical precedents in the immediate context.

And there’s Meier, who, aside from stealing views (hey, you want to insure your view, buy on the beach), turned out some of the best buildings of his career (You didn’t realize you couldn’t relocate the bathroom? What did you think would was possible with those poured concrete floors?), turning out an almost academic (in the best possible sense) exercise in type and plan resolution. And using every ounce of his reputation to force his vision on a developer (it may have been more collaborative, but I suspect ill of the entire lot).

After that, it turns into a lot of some of this versus some of that. One Kenmare Square has its moments, contrary to my original opinion (the best of which is the seam on the north facade that breaks the brick and introduces a color shift). The Dubbeldam project (is that building occupied yet — going on what, five years of construction?) on Greenwich is interesting if only because is it seems to the have the highest aspirations (and the most compliant developer) in terms of interior and exterior design.

But if you aren’t willing to wait three years for luxury, or don’t happen to have a few spare millions sloshing around, what does this city have for you? Design-wise, well, it’s tenements and Targets for most. Over the past couple months I’ve visited a handful of projects. My delinquency in writing anything has made it convenient to collect these observations into a mini feature. So over the next few weeks, I’ll be doing in-depth discussions of housing for the rest of us. That ‘rest’ may scale up towards a slightly higher end, depending on where I end up between now and when I’m through with this exercise, which will address over several days neighborhood, context, even construction details. Soup to nuts. More than you probably wanted to know. Enjoy.

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The closest this blog gets to breaking news.

It’s all of six and no one has bothered to post this, so here’s my bit of service blogging and news breaking. The Synagogue on Rivington Street — directly opposite Teany — has partially collapsed. Or so said a number of standers-by.

I was leaving Alias (which has an excellent brunch, a fact that seems to be consistently lost on the hordes of people waiting eons at Clinton Street Baking), and considered getting some baked goods at the hipster cupcake palace (or, at the very least, to try and ingratiate myself into the hottest apartment scene since Felix left 203) when I noticed a couple NYPD Emergency Service trucks parked on Essex. When the Emergency Service people show up, it’s usually worth the trip, particularly in this neighborhood. Back in the day they usually signaled some type of East Village-y social unrest. Given the current economic and political climate these days, I thought perhaps there would be an anti-noise demonstration (which is a bit of an oxymoron, I know), or perhaps someone had gone the direct action route and firebombed Pianos. First Prada, now this. Could the weekend be rougher for hyper-obvious downtown identity? Walking over there revealed what seemed to be every vehicle the FDNY owns. They had a bus. Who knew they had a bus?

The center of activity was Ludlow and Rivington, which likely sent all those new parent hipsters into paroxysms of anger, given that 4PM on a Sunday is probably the only time they get some quiet. Fire trucks in every direction, and camera phones pointed every which way (the only D70 spotted was in the possession of a guy wearing a Prada knitted cap, who must have wanted to publicly declare his grief). So there will be plenty of photos tomorrow (UPDATE: or, today — to be entirely meta, I am in this photo).

Emergencies are always interesting because crowd control seems to be lackadaisical, when it really is just really difficult. Unless there are meteors crashing into Ludlow Street (and wouldn’t that be sweet?), no one wants to be responsible for wholesale evacuation that gets probably forty business owners screaming (people were still eating at Paul’s Boutique and ‘inoteca), to say nothing of bringing down the ire of Moby. So there were fireman going every which way. I do believe the owners were being interviewed by the Wubbie just as I walked up. That’s about all I got for detail. Concerns about further collapse were being talked about here and there, and some people even brought chairs into the street. It was, well, a little festive. No one seemed to be in direct danger, we were all half hoping for a little demolition porn, and the firemen were exuding really top notch style performance. Having watched such elaborate rituals as training the fresh fish how to properly wash the fire truck or, far more importantly, how to back into a fire house, I really appreciate the loving, long-term effort that must go into helmet accessorizing. I’m not saying I wouldn’t do the exact same thing, and today was a fine time to observe it all, since there was plenty of standing around and beard pulling, with very little evident danger.

But building collapses aren’t real exciting events — the initial moments, yes, but a turn of the century post and beam, mostly brick structure doesn’t go down all that easy. The front facade looked pretty solid when I left for my confectionery. I do hope they will be able to forestall any further damage. The presence of LES Synagogues is an interesting social and architectural characteristic of the area. Many of them aren’t that compelling visually, but they are an interesting building type, the large congregation space the only thing that interrupts what is blocks of tenements and current and former school buildings.

UPDATE: Gothamist does five more minutes of research than me.

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Do it to her.

I saw a cockroach last night. Not an unusual occurrence, right? Well, it was on my pillow. Given that my pillow sits on a futon that sits directly on my floor, this incursion isn’t wholly unexpected. It’s New York. Cockroaches. But how do you squash one when it’s on the damn pillow?

This was worked out, in due course. I assure myself that each time I see one that it is “rare.” I guess. Someone needs to make a little javalet deal where we all log our roach sightings on a web site (a new Google Maps mashup, perhaps?) so we can aggregate some wide distribution notion of “normal” (yeah, all you suburban types chuckling at our having to calculate how many roach sightings are normal — I can go find a drunk and oily Ryan Adams slouched over an East Village bar any night of the week!). It was a little logy, as most of them are when exposed to light, my mammalian, soft, intellect rationalizing that the nonexistent spraying from my entirely absent management company is having an effect, rather than a far more primitive insect mind realizing I was just catching the very rare example of the laggard, gimped up and failing.

Because that’s what we all don’t want to be someday. It’s a fear of exposure — the light comes on, and we are cast as the fraud, the failure. The sound of the claws scurrying down the lath I excuse as gurgling pipes is another form of present mind delusion. I have a rodent problem, as we all do, here in New York (one in four homes, we are cheerfully informed!), and, as we all do in the meantime, we pretend, or live in anxious detente. I have a rodent problem — but as long as it is contained by the scurrying between the walls, I can live in denial. Even though I have been here months, I’m still expecting exposure — to turn an impossible corner of an apartment that I inhabit almost obsessively, to find myself staring into the beady eyes of an alien and dominant culture, a squadron of vermin waiting to evict me, not so much forcibly; instead, I simply turn and run in fear, not wanting to imagine the scope off the battle I am about to engage, since I doubt I can triumph.

I live in a rental, a term of derision and futility, wedged in the dense agglutination of million dollar homes, nothing I do seeming to make headway. We’re just waiting for that light, waiting to be squashed. So what is it that makes living here so unique, so special? It is the relentless pounding fear that never abates. You see it at the edges of everyone’s eyes, in the smiles that aren’t really smiles, but a fractured rictus, shadowing the gleam behind the eyes, a desperate wanting to reach out, wanting any sliver of reassurance. And we guard against that, oh, we hoard that bit of kindness, dangling it just out of reach and dance merrily away, floating on our moment of superiority, all while looking about omni-presently, grabbing every which way for the same.

This is our sport, this is our distraction. We gird ourselves with layers of irony and intellectual pabulum, tearing at every story, dissecting it and reassembling so it coordinates with our manic self-interest, wrapped in a smile and carefully deposited bon mot.

Except this city — and sure, it’s just not this city, we sit atop such a stinking mess of hatred that here we only get to see the most elegantly constructed horrors, those with Lifetime-ready narratives. We have no time for the workaday indignities; we demand more. And this city. This city teaches its children to turn on each other. This city has taught a child a lesson that thousands of years of civilizing effort and labor sought to repress, to create what we hoped was an unimaginable gap, one closed so quickly, as awfully as the effective rodents on Winston, who came so dearly to understand what betrayal was, what the absolute diminution of care is: “Do it to her.”

Do it to her. We have taught children that the means to survival is by sacrificing the weaker among us, a lesson that some smart fuck holding a bottle of Cristal at Bungalow 8 is likely rhapsodizing about this very instant, conflating his pushing of buttons on a keyboard with the acts of heroes, and entirely unawares of the distant suffering it causes, or, as we learned so thoroughly this week, what this grinding battle does to the minds less able. And what, then, happens to their children.

Do it to her. And now the wringing of hands, the rending of garments, breasts will be beaten on the pages of tabloids, our $84 million mayor will gravidly intone reform, some sad sack who has spent the past twenty years trying to stop something just like this but chose to pick the wrong sheet of paper to worry about while the rest of us were distracting ourselves with that useless fuck James Frey, who, had he a thousand fucking years to think about it, couldn’t actually understand what suffering is, that person will get fired, and maybe a few others who deserve it no more than any of us, who look at the strollers littering our hallways with an inward disgust that the nuisance parenthood has brought down on our drinking schedules.

We will try to excuse our ghoulish retelling of facts, wherein details are doled out, necessary to salt the story with just enough Law & Order-quality detail, so we can make certain we have the correct degree of outrage. We won’t think too hard about how quickly the person, the tiny life that we are condemned to rationalizing is finally safe, has become flattened into a useful narrative of many parts. No, we a protecting her, finally, right? After months. Months. Years. Try that. Try remembering this story tomorrow. And the day after that. And the one after that. Do that for a hundred days. Two. Then, then if the tabloid vampires were really acting because they care about people, and were willing to post the same image over and over, again and again, for two hundred days, we could get a sense of how long this city stood by. Idly? Maliciously? It’s all true.

But instead, we try to paint the image of evil on a single person. Make that the final betrayal. To declaim loudly that it wasn’t my fault. It was someone’s, to be sure. But not mine. I sure do want to take the steps necessary to make sure it doesn’t happen again. It wasn’t my fault, but I want to do what I can. How can I help? Just tell me what I need to do; the perfect phrase of the self-absorbed New Yorker who mouths fealty to humanism.

Do it to her. I saw a cockroach on my pillow last night. I will rest my head on it tonight, fortunate in ways I can’t begin to imagine.

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