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March 23, 2007
Matta-Clark & other Unravelings
Its come to my attention that I dont need to draw any more attention to all the attention Moses is getting around town, but the Gordon Matta-Clark show at that Whitney is worth a note; and lots more Attention. Ouroussoff gives a nice review, with some plum pot shots at the establishment. Very fitting in New York's second Gilded Age of luxury ad nauseum. Abusurdity riots across the island. Its not that architecture has become another medal on greeds chest, another inbred lap dog for the fat necked financier. Its always been that. Its the lack of physical (lord knows theres enough theoretical) discourse that offers any alternative to Luxury or Fedder. I think that goes a long way in explaining the tremendous resurgence of interest in the short yet brilliant output of Matta-Clark. Ediciones Poligrafa released a wonderful book of previously unavailable writing this past fall. Apparently the CCA is finally allowing some access to their Matta-Clark archives, from which this book is a result. Brilliant. Heres to hoping for more Matta-Clark praxis, and less greasy carreer climbing (dash).
This city is flush with construction but flaccid with questions, is it any curiosity the nations largest builder of mcmansion tract housing has had a "hot hot year" in New York? We're suffocating under the weight of becoming what we've always been, a reflection of where Americas cities are today; bland replications and sordid hyperboles of what vibrant urban amalgamations might be - could be. Where have all Those people gone? I love J.Nouvel's 40 Mercer, R.Meier's Perry St, S.Holl's Higgin Hall, Shop's Porter House...but homes for the rich, halls for the matriculated. Is that it? Have architects become Nothing but executive assistants? Where is the Challenge, the Engagement of Urban form? Is urbanism dead to all but Planning Beaureaucrats? This is Gilded Age New York. We, as Lovers & Haters of the City & OF Architecture, demand more. More than the malling and gating of these grids, more than ticket blitzes and fedder fueled building booms. More than slick renderings and theoretical preening. More than Hadidism. More than well drinks sold as cocktails, more Praxis, less prattle. The rats have moved in and they want their city back. Destroy the Dynamism they whisper, build me a glass cul-de-sac in the sky, and sweep them to the side. Its more - more to the soul of where urbanism gets thought, where architecture gets manifested, who gets to be there. They are company men doling out company expectations on this city. Don't offend, they might get you a job, make you famous. Please Them. Quiet, controlled, cordoned, and quelled. My Old Lady won't die. She's watching, waiting.
Posted by jmarston at March 23, 2007 12:04 PM
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