Blog » urban field notes
- December 1, 2010
Urban Field Notes: Columbarium Is One Rare Place to Connect With the Dead
We can credit William Howard Taft for giving San Francisco the title of “The City that Knows How,” and in reality San Franciscans usually get what the city planners have up their sleeves. In 1902 they made a law — no more burials within city limits, followed by an even more restrictive law in 1910 — no more cremations. An additional requirement was that all graves be dug up and relocated to the tiny town of Colma. You may hear other stories, but the accepted rationale was that the city only had 49 square miles and needed every bit for more profitable (and taxable) ventures.
After completing the arduous task of moving thousands of bodies, the 27 acres of the original Odd Fellows Cemetery was quickly replaced with streets and housing. But the Columbarium, an imposing and solidly built repository-of-ashes, still stood at the end of Loraine Court. Seemingly a bit out of place in the center of progress, the Columbarium survived a City Hall skirmish to achieve landmark status in 1995, and it and its 7,000 “residents” remain.
The building’s name was taken from Latin: "columbarium" originally meant a place to keep pigeons. You'd think they would have come up with something a bit more human.
Located off the beaten path, not far from San Francisco University, the Columbarium is probably a place many residents don't know about. The Neptune Society, and the site’s sole (and tireless) caretaker, Emmitt Watson, have brought the place back to life. If you are interested, space is still available.
Where do we put our dead? We design our cities in preparation for the future, but concern about where to put the dead doesn't seem to be a priority. We deal with it in the shortest amount of time possible, yet nothing is more long-lasting. Making death a cohesive and compatible part of life will likely aid our acceptance of the inevitable.
An imposing structure. The four-tiered, round concrete building was designed by British architect Bernard J. Cahill in 1897. Previously, Cahill had gained a reputation for designing San Francisco's Civic Center. The building is the common blend of Roman and Greek architecture, with an imposing and heavy exterior, but the inside is much more light and airy.
A peaceful place with lovely objects. I'm not exactly sure what I was expecting, but the first time I entered the Columbarium my jaw dropped. Rich golden light filters in through stained glass windows, bathing the interior and precious objects in warmth. I first learned of the site from a portrait series shot here by San Francisco photographer Julie Michelle. It struck me as quite odd that someone would want to be photographed inside such a place, but after fully absorbing the mood I think this location made perfect sense.
We can thank Mr. Watson. The Columbarium hasn't always been this inviting. It had fallen into a deplorable condition prior to 1980 when it was purchased by the Neptune Society. The roof and everything else leaked, and squirrels and raccoons were making the place their own. Singlehandedly, Emmitt Watson has made the Columbarium his life's work, pouring his blood, sweat and tears into its restoration over the past 30 years
They say you can't take it with you. Many crypts are filled with meaningful and often whimsical objects from the person's life. It's not difficult to see that this individual was into photography and boating — hobbies he financed with his profession as a dentist.time.
Death disguised. Another well-illuminated crypt filled with personal objects. Some of these are so intimate that the discovery process almost feels like snooping. Emmitt Watson says, “What makes this place special is that people come here and they're comfortable. After services here, they don't run away. They take time, look around the building, enjoy it. There's a difference here from a regular cemetery — this is death disguised. I'm in here all the time and I forget that death is all around me.”
Somber and reserved? A repository-of-ashes is not your typical place to hear laughter, but here at the Columbarium you probably will. This is San Francisco and we, like Mr. Fernando here, are all highly quirky individuals in one way or another. And we know how to have a good time.
Final resting spot. Before my first visit someone had told me that Harvey Milk's ashes were here at the Columbarium, and although I searched high and low, it was only when I was leaving that I finally found his crypt near the front entrance. His crypt contains only a simple display of his portrait — my delightful afternoon suddenly turned into one of sadness.
Caseworker: Donald Kinney, 63, is a nature and landscape photographer, living and working out of Fairfax in Marin County. He publishes a daily photo-blog at aphotoaday.blogspot.com, and maintains what he calls his “big” website at www.photoarrow.com.[Urban Field Notes, an additive of cultural landscapes and observations compiled by SPUR members and friends, will now be a regular feature on the SPUR Blog. Urban Field Notes can also be found in the Urbanist, a monthly publication sent to all SPUR Members. Send your ideas to Urban Field Notes editor Ruth Keffer at editor@spur.org]
Tags: Urban Field Notes - November 18, 2010
Urban Field Notes: Backpacking in SF - Seven Scenes from an Adventure
A group clad in backpacks isn’t an unusual sight in San Francisco. One would probably assume they were tourists, maybe “drifters.” But what if these backpackers lived here? What if they were actually going camping?
In June my friends and I embarked on an adventure I dubbed "Urban Backpacking." We “hiked” from our apartments to meet in Alamo Square Park, wove our way to the Panhandle to pick up more of the group, then continued up Arguello to enter the Presidio, where we camped overnight — legally! — at the Rob Hill Campground. The next day we explored the Presidio further before heading home.
The Presidio is one of the only urban National Parks in the country. Although it’s most recognizable for its historic military buildings, I was more attracted to the Presidio’s non-built environment, in an effort to understand the natural roots of the city. I was surprised to learn that not everything growing in the Presidio had always been there. The planting of trees not native to the ecosystem, such as the iconic Monterey cypresses and pines, has been detrimental to some species.
Camping (intentionally) within city limits is unusual. And unusualness was our point. Like many San Franciscans, we take great pride in our creative, often quirky interactions with the city. And as Bay Areans, recreating in our natural surroundings — from picnicking in urban parks to taking in the views atop Mounts Diablo and Tamalpais — is an integral part of life. The Presidio presents an opportunity for a hike (or Urban Backpack) which starts and ends at your doorstep; this convenience and charm seems hard to resist.
1. Beginning in Alamo Square Park. Eager for attention, we couldn’t resist starting in front of the popular painted ladies. Three separate groups asked where we were from. All three seemed confused by our “expedition.”
2. Crossing Masonic. Sticking out the least in the Panhandle, where many tourists of the Haight also sport backpacks.
3a and 3b. Trapped in the golf course. After entering through the Arguello gate, I led the charge through my least favorite part of the Presidio: the golf course. When we attempted to exit the other side, we discovered we had been locked in and needed to hop fences in order to break out. How urban.
4. Camping at Rob Hill. Our campsite, the morning after. Managed by the Presidio Trust, the Rob Hill Campground is the highest point in the Presidio. It was, surprisingly, not gusty or freezing, and well-protected by shrubs and trees.
5. Tree-lined borders. In the 1880s approximately 400,000 trees were planted as a means of visual fortification around the edges of the park, clearing much of the native vegetation.
6. Native San Francisco. Coastal bluffs harbor the majority of the native plant habitats. Restoration efforts — such as that of the lessingia germanorum, a flowering plant in the daisy family on the state and federal endangered species list — provide a glimpse of the region’s ecological past. Information about many of these habitats is available along the network of trails within the park.Caseworker: Liz Felter
[Urban Field Notes, an additive of cultural landscapes and observations compiled by SPUR members and friends, will now be a regular feature on the SPUR Blog. Urban Field Notes can also be found in the Urbanist, a monthly publication sent to all SPUR Members. Send your ideas to Urban Field Notes editor Ruth Keffer at editor@spur.org]
Tags: Urban Field Notes - November 3, 2010
Urban Field Notes: Five Elements of Great Urbanism in San Jose
by Julie KimWhat's the role of urban planning, a profession so invested in the physical world, within a culture fueled by ideas, concepts and dreams? You might think physical placemaking isn't a priority in San Jose, the self-proclaimed capital of Silicon Valley, and home or hub to the world's "digerati." But the stuff of great urbanism"”wide sidewalks, pristine open spaces, a mix of new and historic architecture"”is there. It's even there in a way it sometimes isn't in San Francisco. This occurred to me while wandering through downtown San Jose and passing tree after (perfectly-pruned) tree. Sidewalk extensions in front of restaurants? Up north these can cause an uproar. In San Jose, they're no big deal.
Planners in San Jose are focused on what it should be. Naturally, they look to other great cities, eagerly seeking lessons for how to create their very own Central or Millennium Park, replicate the cultural vibrancy of Haight Street or mimic the economic successes of other parts of Silicon Valley. The city has aspirations to improve and change, but too much learning could lead to an identity crisis at the expense of appreciating the important things it already has under its belt.
What stands out in my mind is a spirit of innovation and willingness to improve that can be hard to come by in San Francisco. In San Jose, change is good and "business" isn't a dirty word. Spearheaded by a cultural organization called 1stAct Silicon Valley, the planning initiatives for revitalizing the SoFA district blend a focus on the arts with technology and student programs at nearby San Jose State University. The Guadalupe River Park, an already-impressive stretch of downtown open space, is undergoing yet another phase of development to incorporate outdoor performance spaces and family nature trails.
All this, plus political will and a Mediterranean climate to boot. Some of the things San Jose wants from us, I want from San Jose.
1. In the heart of downtown, a river runs through it. An improbably beautiful 2.8-mile stretch of nature between Highways 280 and 880 includes places for gathering (a meadow, community garden, plazas and monuments) and recreation (continuous pathways lined by native greenery and tiered landscaping). The park hosts large community events, including the city's Pride Celebration and AIDS Walk. Here, a lone skateboarder provides a program of his own.
2. Holding the line. Blocks of mid-rise developments are punctuated by buildings that rise to (not above) the hill-line. Historic buildings, like the Cathedral Basilica Saint Joseph and De Anza Hotel, are tucked away in a fabric of old and new. An urban growth boundary was drawn in the 1970s "” and held in the 1990s despite unprecedented population growth "” to preserve nearby farmland and drive development into the city proper. Some have lauded the City for maintaining the boundary; others have criticized it for driving up the cost of housing.
3. In downtown, seating to spare. On a weekday, these benches look lonely. Street trees and planters are expertly maintained, even protected by a circular guard that could double as something to lean on. Seating is shaded from the South Bay sun (usually not a problem up north), and actually designed for sitting comfortably (not a given, sadly, when it comes to park benches). But where are the lingerers, the lunchmates, the people to see and be seen? "We're workaholics down here," replied one passerby.
4. South of First, the bones of a great retail street. On SoFA's main drag, South First Street, new initiatives build on the bones of a great retail street. In April 1927, Hollywood starlets filled the California Theater's 1,119 seats to celebrate the opening of the South Bay motion-picture house (left). Today, it is home to the San Jose Opera and Silicon Valley Symphony. Similar to San Francisco's "parklets," extensions to SoFA's already-generous sidewalks facilitate outdoor eating and people-watching (right).
5. Subtly artful parking, across from Diridon Station. Surface parking lots can be an eyesore, deadening everything around it. But sometimes the investment in flashy "park-itechture" can be compensatory. This layered wall creates depth and visual interest without trying too hard, and incorporates tufts of greenery to soften the surface.
Caseworker: Julie Kim is SPUR's Public Engagement Director.
Photo Credit: All photos by author
[Urban Field Notes, an additive of cultural landscapes and observations compiled by SPUR members and friends, will now be a regular feature on the SPUR Blog. Urban Field Notes can also be found in the Urbanist, a monthly publication sent to all SPUR members. Send your ideas to Urban Field Notes editor Ruth Keffer at editor@spur.org]
Tags: Urban Field Notes - October 28, 2010
Urban Field Notes: Eight Bay Area landmarks make the case for concrete
- posted by SPURWhen I was growing up, anti-urbanists spoke about concrete as if it were the material of the devil: "concrete jungle," or "ribbons of concrete," or "cold as concrete." But a few architects were able to celebrate the material's plasticity and create new kinds of spaces that were warm and even inviting. In the Bay Area, there are a number of fine midcentury landmarks worth exploring.
The San Francisco Art Institute features concrete as the primary building material from two different periods, the 1920s and the 1960s. Near the U.C. Berkeley campus, Mario Ciampi designed two different kind of "brutalist" concrete structures "” the University Art Museum and Newman Hall, a Catholic church.
In downtown Oakland Kevin Roche's design for the Oakland Museum proved flexible in the hands of local architect Mark Cavagnero when it came time to renovate and add some gallery spaces. Several blocks away is SOM's Christ the Light Cathedral with a beautiful poured-in-place concrete base. The interior is both intimate and awe inspiring.Perhaps the grandest concrete building in the Bay Area is Saint Mary's Cathedral on Geary Street, designed by architects Pier Luigi Nervi, Pietro Belluschi, John Michael Lee, Paul A. Ryan, and Angus McSweeney. Be sure to check out Richard Lippold's baldacchino.
Occasionally, a mid-century building created from concrete has escaped renovation and stands in its original glory. The Glen Park BART Station, designed by Ernest Born with Corlett & Spackman, is one of these.
Concrete offers great flexibility at construction, but after the material sets, it's harder to work with. If we're lucky, we will see more buildings like the Sunset's new Sava Pool.
1. SF Art Institute. Bakewell & Brown found they could evoke a rough interpretation of the Spanish Mediterranean style, while 40 or so years later, Paffard Keatinge-Clay used the same material to build a great brutalist building that evokes Corbusier's Carpenter Center at Harvard.
2. Berkeley Art Museum. Concrete is a tricky material in a seismically active zone, and the fate of the museum is uncertain. The splaying of the galleries was visually stunning, but not so resistant to earthquakes. Some black spider legs are holding the wings up for the time being. Photo by Steven Addison, courtesy BAM/PFA.
3. Newman Hall. This structure enjoyed a much more successful seismic upgrade than the Berkeley Art Museum and combines the aesthetic of Corbu with the Bay Area's landscape tradition.
4. Oakland Museum. Mark Cavagnero used a lighter, complementary metal that can be easily read as an intervention but can also be removed at some future date. Photo by Tim Griffith.
5. Glen Park BART Station. Born designed the station's asymmetrical marble mural, which contrasts with the rectangular structure. The surprise of this station is that such a modest but exquisitely detailed pavilion on the street is really a canopy for a cascade of light and stone that illuminates the BART tracks far underground.
6. Saint Mary's Cathedral. The roof forms of this church are hyberbolic paraboloids, and conclude in a cross form. The column bases are some of the most beautiful concrete work I have ever seen. Photo by David Wakely.
7. Sava Pool. Mark Cavagnero and Paulett Taggart found concrete a hardy material to work with near the Pacific Ocean when they designed the new Sava Pool in the Sunset District. The combination of daylight and contrasting interior materials makes this a significant new civic treasure. Photo by Tim Griffith.
8. Cathedral of Christ the Light. While the foundation takes advantage of concrete's ability to be formed, the main structure is lighter, a beautiful wood skeleton covered with glazing. Photo by Timothy Hursley, courtesy Skidmore, Owings & Merrill LLP.
Caseworker: Kenneth Caldwell is a writer for and consultant to the design industries. You can read his blog at www.designfaith.blogspot.com.
Photo Credit: All photos by the author except where noted.
[Urban Field Notes, an additive of cultural landscapes and observations compiled by SPUR members and friends, will now be a regular feature on the SPUR Blog. Urban Field Notes can also be found in the Urbanist, a monthly publication sent to all SPUR Members. Send your ideas to Urban Field Notes editor Ruth Keffer at editor@spur.org]
Tags: architecture, Urban Field Notes - July 1, 2010
Urban Field Notes: Art, Commerce and Hope on View in Nine Storefronts
Artists have always seized upon the frayed patches of cities, where lower rents, available space, and fewer rules make the creative life possible. Last fall, the San Francisco Arts Commission's Art in Storefronts program brought together artists and vacant storefronts in three neighborhoods—Central Market/Tenderloin, Bayview, and the Mission—to call attention to the economic and community development potential of this symbiosis.
In the Mission District, such "street-level curating" already had strong roots, thanks to Triple Base Gallery's 24th Street Promenade program and the Mission Arts and Performance Project. (Triple Base co-curated the SFAC's storefront installations.) In boom times a thriving arts community would ignite fears of gentrification, but, in the midst of deep recession, these flourishing storefronts imbue a sense of optimism. Vacancies in San Francisco's major shopping districts like Union Square and the Fillmore District offer fertile ground for this bridging of art, commerce, and hope.
Walking in the manner of Baudelaire's flaneur (the observant wanderer) is the recommended mode for encountering the art of storefronts. For in the thick of bustling streets, or one's own noise, many things pass unseen. The Mission's storefront offerings range from the accidental to the curated and contribute to a deeply rooted tradition of murals and other street art. They also reveal the complexities of this transitioning neighborhood. By asking us to slow down and look around, storefront art brings into focus the weave of history and culture that defines each neighborhood, and provides an opening for greater connection on many levels.
1. A good neighbor: 3040 24th Street. This converted storefront has always been a neighborhood curiosity. Last year, the occupant, S. Meek Architecture, began inviting artists to create storefront installations, like this one by Nathaniel Parsons.
2. Arts in residence: 2501 Bryant Street and 992 Valencia Street. Curated storefronts—like these at Million Fishes artists collective and Artists Television Access—provide moments of surprise mixed with the comfort of familiar neighborhood institutions.
3. Snapshot in time: 2824 24th Street. As new shops and restaurants shift the character of 24th Street, remnants of the neighborhood's past, like Angela's Gift House, come into relief.
4. In transition: 1169 Valencia Street. The ruins and artifacts of abandoned businesses tell a story of changing fortunes. Mission Loc@l reported in December that the sale of this building was pending.
5. Resident artists: 3067 24th Street. Storefronts retain their commercial purpose for artists like Eugenio de Arnal, who keeps his studio here and advertises "contemporary art for sale."
6. Temporarily permanent: 2929 24th Street. Originally commissioned for the Art in Storefronts project, Abner Nolan's A New Museum is now an ongoing exhibit space curated by the artist — as long as the building remains vacant. In fact, there are very few vacant storefronts on lower 24th Street.
7. The art of merchandising: 1266 Valencia Street. To commemorate the opening of its new store, Gypsy Honeymoon invited artist Christine Shields to design a window display integrating her series of small oval paintings.
8. Spontaneous art: 900 Valencia Street. At Dog Eared Books, artist/bookseller Veronica de Jesus started a series of drawing memorials to cultural icons ranging from Rick James to David Ireland. Since the window became half-filled, each new drawing must replace a prior one.
Caseworker: Since abandoning the sciences for a degree in history, Yosh Asato has been fascinated by the cultural life of cities. Today, she is a San Francisco-based writer and communications consultant specializing in the fields of architecture and urban design.
Photo Credit: All photos by the author.
[Urban Field Notes, an additive of cultural landscapes and observations compiled by SPUR members and friends, will now be a regular feature on the SPUR Blog. Urban Field Notes can also be found in the Urbanist, a monthly publication sent to all SPUR Members. Send your ideas to Urban Field Notes editor Ruth Keffer at editor@spur.org]
Tags: Urban Field Notes - July 1, 2010
Urban Field Notes: Eight Portraits of SF locales and Their Native Inhabitants
I live here:SF is a photography/portraiture project that I began in March 2009. It is an exploration of the city through the visages and stories of the people who participate, and through it, I have learned so much about San Francisco and its myriad of nano-neighborhoods and micro-climates. Living here in San Francisco, and our communal attachment to the city, is the common thread for the work that I am doing.
My subjects are willing to share the ordinary and extraordinary details of the places that serve as settings for their day-to-day lives, as well as glimpses into the way that San Francisco itself has become an integral part of their identities.
Each portrait session is truly a partnership. It's also unusual in that the majority of people who participate have never met me prior to volunteering and I often know nothing about them, not even what they look like. All I know is that they live here, too. Some have seen my work online at iliveheresf.com and follow the site, and others volunteer because they know someone else who has participated. By nature, my project is very inclusive. Anyone can participate, as long as they are a San Francisco resident and are willing to write a story or poem based on their life here.
The photos you see here were selected because the subjects introduced me to a part of the city I had never been to, and through their eyes I was able to appreciate and understand why this location was unique and worth visiting.
1. Annie: Lover's Lane in the Presidio. Annie is a fourth-generation San Franciscan and this was the first location she took me to for her photo shoot. I've been in the Presidio often but had never been here. The convergence of trees, creating this cathedral-like space, was incredibly stunning.
2. Catherine: Potrero Hill. This photo was taken at the old Greyhound maintenance facility on 7th Street. Even in its decrepit state, this location was fascinating to photograph. Much of the site is completely gone now.
3. Colleen: St. Boniface Church in the Tenderloin. This church is absolutely serene and beautiful inside. What is even more touching is the Gubbio Project (thegubbioproject.org) based here, which provides a safe daytime place to sleep for the homeless population of the Tenderloin.
4. Helene: Municipal Pier. I'm totally in love with the pier now. I honestly had no idea it existed. For views of the city you can't beat it, and on a foggy, lonely morning when it's just you and one or two fishermen, you don't feel more in San Francisco than here.
5. Mary: The Seward Slides in Eureka Valley. It's not easy to find these slides unless you have a guide or a good map. The fact that they exist on this steep sloping hill tucked away in a very quiet neighborhood is so whimsical to me. (I made Mary go down these slides several times.)
6. Megan: Waller Steps in the Lower Haight. This was probably the first discovery I made via an I live here:SF subject. Coming down this set of stairs nestled amongst the trees and neighboring Victorians is a charming walk.
7. Mike: National AIDS Memorial Grove. How a swampy, neglected parcel of land right in the middle of Golden Gate Park was reclaimed and turned into such a sacred, moving site shows what San Franciscans can achieve when they set their minds to something.
8. Troy: Behind the Alemany Farmer's Market. I've learned a lot about street art since starting this project. Some of the most amazing art is not easily accessible and having someone show you where to look is necessary. This mural is one of Troy's favorites and the composition here is one of mine.
Caseworker: Julie Michelle is looking for the unexpected and the unseen in her photography walks around San Francisco's neighborhoods. She enjoys creating images that evoke a feeling of solitude and depth in a city that is kaleidoscopic and bustling with inhabitants. Julie is one of the founding members of CALIBER, a popular SF-based photography collective. She can be contacted at iliveheresf@gmail.com.
Photo Credit: All photos by the author.
[Urban Field Notes, an additive of cultural landscapes and observations compiled by SPUR members and friends, will now be a regular feature on the SPUR Blog. Urban Field Notes can also be found in the Urbanist, a monthly publication sent to all SPUR Members. Send your ideas to Urban Field Notes editor Ruth Keffer at editor@spur.org]
Tags: Urban Field Notes - July 1, 2010
Urban Field Notes: Five Chats about Architecture Overheard on the Street
All over the city old and new buildings sit side by side, each speaking the language of its native cultural moment: pre-war or mid-century or post-modern. As they pass the time, bearing witness to the eddy of human activity percolating around them, I like to imagine these buildings are talking to one another.
The old-timers, in their comically archaic jargon, chide the shallow swagger of the youngsters, who respond in the hyperconfident hipsterisms of their respective cliques. The middle-aged buildings remain mostly silent. Too busy working, I suppose. The conversations are sometimes fluent and witty, sometimes incoherent and jarring. But it's the chatter that matters, the noise as layers of history collide and intersect.
We argue a lot about how well we can orchestrate this architectural mash-up: how can we banish incongruity, how can we project our idealized civic identity, how much of the old should be preserved and how much of the new should break with or play deference to tradition. These debates are about capitalism and functionality as much they are about aesthetics and subjective experience, but they seem endless.
I would rather listen to the buildings themselves. I am especially entertained by how often, for example, two buildings built a century apart but for the same purpose will speak in similar tones: with bravado or earnestness or charm. For me these architectural moments, whether random or planned, define the character and texture of the city.
1. Icons of the city. It's been home to Abe Ruef, the Kingston Trio, and the trend-setting Caesar's restaurant, but the 1907 Sentinel Building, despite its colorful exterior and its colorful past, is out-postured by the heftier Transamerica Building. Now owned by Francis Ford Coppola, it continues to stand watch in North Beach, where high finance still battles Bohemia for the city's identity.
2. Two cathedrals. As a destination for those who worship at the altar of high art, the Jewish Museum extension, completed in 2008, wears its eccentricity proudly. It leans across this South of Market plaza and whispers mischievously at the backside of its 19th century neighbor, the stalwart St. Patrick church, an institution that knows a thing or two about architecture and ritual.
3. For the people. Government architecture usually comes in two varieties: faceless and functional, or dressed to impress. The Federal Building, 2007, is aggressively trying to be both. And though it has little in common stylistically with its Beaux Arts companion across Seventh Street, the 1905 U.S. Court of Appeals, neither building is coy about its mission: something terribly complicated is going on inside.
4. Big business. At 285 feet, Willis Polk's Hobart Building defined the upper edge of the skyline when it was built in 1914. It still holds its own against a later mid-century version of corporate machismo, the glass-walled giant next door at 44 Montgomery. Both office towers succeed in making the pedestrian feel somewhat irrelevant and very, very small.
5. Home sweet home. Before the area was bulldozed to make way for Yerba Buena Gardens in the 1960s, this pre-quake office building on 3rd Street was surrounded by single-room-occupancy hotels, the affordable housing of their day. Today it shares the street with a chorus of higher-class acquaintances: the Argent (fancy hotel), the Paramount (fancy apartments) and the St. Regis (fancy hotel with fancy apartments).
Caseworker: Ruth Keffer is a freelance curator and design writer, and editor of SPUR's Urban Field Notes.
Photo Credit: All photos by the author.
[Urban Field Notes, an additive of cultural landscapes and observations compiled by SPUR members and friends, will now be a regular feature on the SPUR Blog. Urban Field Notes can also be found in the Urbanist, a monthly publication sent to all SPUR Members. Send your ideas to Urban Field Notes editor Ruth Keffer at editor@spur.org]
Tags: Urban Field Notes - July 1, 2010
Urban Field Notes: Six encounters with Bay Area Street Art
The sometimes spontaneous and sometimes ephemeral quality of unsanctioned public art interests me. As distinguished from government-sponsored initiatives, as well as territorial graffiti or vandalism, I set out to be more conscious of this art, created by and for the people living in San Francisco and the other locales I've visited around the Bay.
Over the last few months, I found art that communicates socially relevant themes, from a celebrity memorial to the politics of cyclist rights. Equally represented were artworks that depict a more playfully provocative mood. The door mosaics at Ocean Beach hold their ground in defiance of a seawall ruled by tags and graffiti. The McAllister Street mobile is unique, too, in that it expresses the fleeting nature of these unofficial presentations. Its maker is also the sidewalk curator, rotating pieces in and out for pedestrian enjoyment, as well as for riders of Muni's Fulton 5 bus. By contrast, the context for itinerant public art, such as the Zebra RV, is always changing. Consider taking this piece outside the urban context — how would the concept change if it were traveling down a country road? Finally, the motivation to create street art helps artists reach a broader audience, and can be a step towards neighborhood beautification, as exemplified by the mushroom-decorated infrastructure on Valencia Street.
1. McAllister Street Mobile. Art work of the moment, from an ever-changing display of private art made public at 1269 McAllister Street. Resembling a mobile, two stacked rectilinear forms rotate independent of each other. Paned-glass squares make up the two partial cubes, decorated with cut-out mythological illustrations. The kinetic piece responds to climate and environment, hanging from a projected pole off the residence.
2. George Harrison Tribute. Honoring the life and work of Beatles musician George Harrison, "a great musician, gardener and humanitarian," this Mission District memorial is both static and fleeting. As a doorstep altar, it calmly calls for peace and love. A car parked just a few feet away is an additional layer to the tribute, decorated with painting, photos and inscriptions.
3. Ghost Bike. A ghost-white bicycle is chained to a sign pole in Oakland. It is missing the front tire. Below the 30 mph speed-limit sign, another handcrafted sign urges motorists to slow down, exclaiming, "CYCLIST KILLED HERE." The handlebars are adorned with a bouquet of flowers, marking the spot where Mathew Sperry, a well known local musician and performer, was killed in 2003. This installation is one of more than 100 ghost bike memorials worldwide honoring fallen cyclists and supporting their right to safe travel.
4. Ocean Beach Mosaic Doors. Located on Ocean Beach's crumbling and historic seawall, two mosaic doors flank Stairway 16, offering an unexpected departure from the typical creative expression of graffiti and tags. Perhaps sensing the rogue nature of the site, artist Laurel True refers to her work on the right as a "mysterious happening." A third-eye stares out through the round-top door set off by rays of light. On the left, another mosaic by an unidentified artist resembles a more traditional and rustic western-style wooden slat door.
5. Mushroom Infrastructure. Three capped pipes decorate the mundane and enliven the streetscape in front of The Touch furniture store on Valencia. Each pipe rises no more than a foot off the sidewalk surface, and is transformed into a whimsical troop of mushrooms. Plush purple fabric gathers around the top of two pipes, to create the mushroom cap. A third pipe, the quintessential poisonous toadstool, has a metal cap painted red with spots. Plastic flowers and oak leaves give just a hint of an enchanted forest floor to an otherwise concrete environment.
6. Zebra RV. The zebra stripes of this old recreational vehicle are quite a sight. In nature, stripes like these act as camouflage, offering protection from predators. Much like the simple pattern-camouflage used for military uses, the wavy lines of a zebra are meant to blend in with the wavy lines of surrounding vegetation, where color is not an issue to the colorblind lion. Parked in this urban setting of Emeryville, the RV sits idle yet strikingly visible.
Caseworker: Amy Ress is the Program Advancement Fellow at Public Architecture. Amy's interests are centered on the integration of art in public landscapes and community-oriented design. She is trained as a landscape architect, and has a curatorial background in art and design. Amy can be reached at amyress@sbcglobal.net.
Photo Credit: All photos by the author.
[Urban Field Notes, an additive of cultural landscapes and observations compiled by SPUR members and friends, will now be a regular feature on the SPUR Blog. Urban Field Notes can also be found in the Urbanist, a monthly publication sent to all SPUR Members. Send your ideas to Urban Field Notes editor Ruth Keffer at editor@spur.org]
Tags: Urban Field Notes - July 1, 2010
Urban Field Notes: Eight Forms of Fortification in our Nation's Capital
A function of any city is to provide safety and the defense of residents while they shop and trade, even while they sleep, It's a way of circling the wagons, from Leonardo's fortified town walls to Beijing's Imperial City walls to today's post-9/11 terrorist barricades. "¨"¨Investments in military structures can, sometimes, benefit our cities. Those projects are often converted "¨for purposes other than defense, decades or even centuries later. Consider that landscaped moat, the handsome fortified wall surrounding Lucca in Tuscany, like thousands of other medieval Asian and European towns. No longer useful militarily, these fortifications now provide parks, open space, overlooks, and sometimes a boundary controlling city sprawl. Like Crissy Field!"¨"¨ Massive U.S. tax dollars are presently fortifying our cities, and are particularly evident in Washington D.C. By 2005, $180 million had been spent fortifying the National Mall alone, with another $2.75 billion approved in 2009 for other Homeland Security projects nationwide.
As SPUR and other organizations seek wise government spending, we will look for homeland security projects that combine city defense infrastructure with urban beautification. Along with new terrorist barricades, we look to increase the long-term, secondary benefits from the billions of dollars to be spent.
How about combining every new urban defense investment with a known civic improvement project? No, I am not thinking of National Guard Armories becoming porn filmmaking studios! Rather, I'm thinking along the lines of terrorist barricades that double for sea-rise or other protection, in a waterfront city like ours.
1. Washington Monument. A cleverly designed high berm in the center of the National Mall protects the base of the monument while disguising new visitor facilities. The massive stonework itself provides an obvious deterrent to attackers.
2. Public walkways. Literally miles of heavy planters have been installed that attempt to combine defense with urban beautification. These fortifications broaden zones around buildings meant to arrest the truck bomber and distance other vehicular attack.
3. White House. Only rarely are vehicles seen near the manned guard houses that protect White House pedestrian entry gates. Two recent party crashers managed to evade detection at these checkpoints and meet the President.
4a. and 4b. White House. A piston-bollard truck barricade, erect, left, and retracted. The deeply set pistons are operated by remote control from guard shacks and in some cases by remotes in authorized vehicles.
5. U.S. Supreme Court. A simple row of iron bollards protects our highest court, imposing only a slight barrier when compared with heavier vehicular fortifications across the street at the Capitol.
6. U.S. Capitol. The steep slope of Capitol Hill provides a rampart of stairs for defense of the Capitol's west side, facing the National Mall.
7. J. Edgar Hoover Building. "Fortress FBI," a questionable monument to maintaining a safe distance from the "dangerous" public, is to be torn down. Its castle-moat severs the building frontage from its four sidewalks around an entire city block. The massive cornice formed by two upper floors is currently wrapped in protective netting to catch falling debris.
8. National Museum of Natural History. Specimen boulders from regional U.S. quarries have been placed to create the required ring of truck-bomber protection. The variety of stone displayed and unusual scale of the boulders somewhat disguises their defensive role.
Caseworker: Architect Rod Freebairn-Smith has practiced in the U.S. and abroad for over forty years. He has taught urban design at MIT, U.C. Berkeley, and Stanford, among others. For 11 years he was a San Francisco City Commissioner for Civic Design. He currently serves on SPUR's Advisory Council.
Photo Credit: All photos by the author.
[Urban Field Notes, an additive of cultural landscapes and observations compiled by SPUR members and friends, will now be a regular feature on the SPUR Blog. Urban Field Notes can also be found in the Urbanist, a monthly publication sent to all SPUR Members. Send your ideas to Urban Field Notes editor Ruth Keffer at editor@spur.org]
Tags: Urban Field Notes - July 1, 2010
Urban Field Notes: Seven Art Deco treasures in Oakland's City Center
- posted by SPURFor the first several years I lived in the Bay Area, most of what I knew about Oakland was gleaned from glimpses out the window during my daily BART flyover from the far-East Bay. But in recent months I've had a chance to explore Oakland's downtown on foot. The city center has a very different urban vibe than San Francisco, and though the topography is less, shall we say, eccentric and picturesque (meaning, flatter and sunnier), the unexpected pleasures are many.
Not the least of these is a trove of splendid Art Deco buildings that date from one of the city's economic upturns in the 1920s. This period of building in the area north of 14th and Broadway followed another shift of the city center as it continued to creep north from its original location close to the harbor channel. Upturns never last, though, and Oakland has been repeatedly hit by harder times. Most recently, and in succession, the 1989 earthquake, the dot-com crash, and our current recession/depression have left many of these architectural treasures in a precarious state. Some of the buildings have sat empty for decades, some have narrowly escaped demolition, others have been restored only to languish again as they await paying tenants.
But most agreeable to the architectural tourist is that they don't appear to be at all anomalous in the neighborhood. There seem to be as many buildings with small Art Deco gestures — entrances, friezes, window detailing — as there are full-fledged examples of the style, and whether occupied or not, they are all camera-worthy.
1. Fox Oakland Theater, 1928. This Weeks & Day design was originally to be called the "Bagdad," with its Hollywood-style mix of vaguely Indian, Moorish and Medieval designs. The restoration, planned for the theater's 80th anniversary in 2008, was finally completed this year.
2. Oakland Floral Depot, 1931. Cobalt blue terra cotta tiles and a waterfall motif distinguish this extraordinary design by Albert J. Evers. It was nearly destroyed in the early "˜80s before finally being assigned to the National Register of Historic Places.
3. Paramount Theatre, 1931. Among Timothy Pflueger's most celebrated designs in the Bay Area, the theater, which became a National Historic Landmark in 1977, boasts a 110-foot tile mosaic on the exterior and an original "four-manual, twenty-rank" Wurlitzer organ inside.
4. I. Magnin & Co., 1931. Designed by Weeks & Day, its elegant, emerald green terra cotta and serpentine stone façade recalls the days when our mothers (or grandmothers) would don their gloves for a shopping outing. Closed in 1995 and restored in 2001, it had to endure a seismic retrofit and the dot-com bust before finally seeing new retail tenants.
5. Howden Building, 1925. Designed by McWethy & Greenleaf, this building, with its spectacular entrance and unusual orange and black exterior, served as both showroom and showcase for the Howden Tile Co. It became a City of Oakland landmark in 1984.
6. White Building, 1924. A City of Oakland landmark since 1985, the undulating strip windows of this building speak to the core impulses — seemingly contradictory — of the Art Deco aesthetic: modernist forms combined with exotic, often Eastern-influenced ornamentation.
7. 347 14th St. It's not a named building with a name architect, just a set of ordinary storefronts with extraordinary (seafoam green!) architecture. The corner-anchoring restaurant space is for lease.
Caseworker: Ruth Keffer is a freelance curator and design writer, and editor of SPUR's Urban Field Notes.
Photo Credit: All photos by the author.
[Urban Field Notes, an additive of cultural landscapes and observations compiled by SPUR members and friends, will now be a regular feature on the SPUR Blog. Urban Field Notes can also be found in the Urbanist, a monthly publication sent to all SPUR Members. Send your ideas to Urban Field Notes editor Ruth Keffer at editor@spur.org]
Tags: Urban Field Notes
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