Progressive architecture is more than nifty aesthetics. It involves sophisticated engineering, material experimentation, and the negotiation of myriad social relationships. The World Trade Center, for example, wasn’t attacked because of how it looked, but because it was the ultimate social, political, and economic icon of America. Imagine applying Mays’s florid descriptions of the wtc site proposals (“a diaphanous wisp of architectural fabric,” “fin-de-siècle delicacy,” “romantically eccentric,” “intellectually aristocratic,” “exuberant” ) to the wtc itself. Sort of misses the point, doesn’t it? One way to assess the progressiveness of architecture is in terms of its “performance,” — that is, its ability to serve intended functions (or to adapt) over time, its novel use of material resources and inhabited spaces, its role within urban infrastructure, and its ability to transform space in a meaningful way. Performance emerges from original, intelligent responses to realworld challenges.
Mays’s claim notwithstanding, a “Manhattan street grid . . . lifted from where it lies into vertical position” doesn’t constitute a “mindful response” to its site. It might be an example of the tendency of “American skyscrapers . . . to exhibit ever-greater democratic openness at the base” (a generalization that bewilders me, since Mussolini also commissioned many open, glassy buildings, and, closer to home, there are restrictions on almost everything at street level), but that doesn’t necessarily make it progressive. Greenery on a wide median with a bench and lots of natural light could be more mindful, democratic, and progressive than a deluxe skyscraper; it just depends.
Paul duBellet Kariouk
Ottawa, Ontario
Cut on the Bias
Marni Jackson’s “Veils for Western Women” (February) is a masterful exposé of what could go wrong if certain floodgates were forced open under pressure from decadent freethinkers in virtual unreality. However, instead of trying to adapt to the dictates of designer- degenerates who excel only at creating one-legged pantsuits for equestriennes, aquanettes, astronettes, and other fashionistas at sky’s-the-limit prices, may I suggest some less expensive alternatives?
For the woman who wishes to present herself as a surprise birthday package without exposing any skin, the drag-along-a-ruggabugga is available from any discount carpet store. She can roll herself up in it and be shipped anywhere in the country for pennies a kilogram per kilometre, plus tax. If the thought of going to the mall to purchase basic necessities sends shivers up and down her spine, she can be secure in the knowledge that no one north of the American border pays the slightest bit of attention to a moving carpet, no matter how fast it’s going.
The woman who has no desire to leave the kitchen unless overwhelmed by the powerful urge to purchase chocolate- covered dates stuffed with honey-roasted almonds (and there are plenty of those) can always dip herself in a bag of flour, then a dozen whipped eggs, and lastly a tub of buttered bread crumbs, until all traces of her humanity have been erased. And if $15 is not in the budget, or if that’s just too messy, she can always dive under the stack of used tires piled up in the corner of the garage and wear them coiled around every inch of her body. Believe me, someone dressed up like the Michelin Man simply does not stand out in a crowd, especially in Toronto.
There is more than one way to skin a cat.
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