I walked out of Chicago’s Union Station, following my nose to Lake Michigan. I have always liked Chicago. It’s small enough to feel manageable, but big enough to be a thoroughly vibrant city with a dynamic feel. And the architecture! There are few places I would rather stand than in Millennium Park, looking back to the amazing array of towers that comprise the Chicago skyline. My legs took me quickly to the park, which is the site of a breathtaking outdoor auditorium designed by Frank Gehry. His signature suspended metal sheets frame the stage, echoing his designs of the art museum in Bilbao and the Disney Symphony Hall in LA. The auditorium is part of a larger public arts space, including the Crown Fountain by Jaume Plensa; the contemporary Lurie Garden designed by Kathryn Gustafson, Piet Oudolf and Robert Israel; and Anish Kapoor's crowd favorite “Cloud Gate” sculpture. Comprised of twenty four acres, it is one of the world’s most compelling public arts spaces. As you walk through it, you can’t help but be reminded of the profoundly re-humanizing impact beautiful art and architecture have on an humanity.
And you know what? It’s more than an incredibly unattractive building foisted upon a city that needs something more. It’s a statement about values, about life, about what makes us get out of bed in the morning. As Nicolai Ourousoff wrote in Tuesday’s New York Times, the message it sends is “what’s most important is to build, no matter how thoughtless or dehumanizing the results. It is the kind of logic that kills cities- and that has been killing this one for decades.” I have to agree. Replacing the uplifting art of Gehry with an ugly box is an insult to New Yorkers. But even more so, it is a negative statement about the role of beauty in the lives of citizens. Given an opportunity to contribute to the culture and health of a city, Ratner (and the city government) have settled for an Orwellian business model. This is a biblical issue. Genesis chapter one introduced humanity to a God who is creating something beautiful that works perfectly. Part of the church’s redemptive role on earth is to restore beauty, as beauty restores humanity. As friend and artist Makoto Fujimora wrote in his new book, Refractions, “One thing is sure: our cultural productions will define us, whether we like it or not. Art expresses who we are.” So who are we? The same process unfolded with the redevelopment of the World Trade Center site, when Daniel Libeskind’s original design was negotiated down from inspiring to demoralizing. Is crass commercialism acceptable? Is it ok to pull a bait and switch on a city? I don’t believe that beauty and economy are mutually exclusive. It is possible to build something beautiful that also functions economically. I wonder how Christians should respond to this act of injustice. Would any church go out and advocate for God by picketing for beauty? |

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Art (and beauty) is one of those things that feels unimportant to a lot of people--until they have none. You've aptly noticed that our architectural decisions are a metaphor for much bigger things. It's been my experience that some people seem to be missing an art gene, but I believe it's something (like intelligence) that can be nurtured and developed. I also think that we're darn lucky that God gifts each of us in the church differently. A healthy Church universal will have some watchmen who will inspire others to produce, guard, and develop beautiful spaces, but others will always see it as secondary.
Another thing your piece made me think of: plenty of people will roll in and out of the new "Best Buy" Nets arena and not notice its ugliness. If so, should we even bother to tell them?
Thought a lot about your comment, Caroline. I went by Cooper Union's new science building at Astor Place yesterday, just to take a look at an amazing piece of architecture. The scaffolding came down last week, so it's like a brand new piece of art in a neighborhood known for art. I remembered your thought and spent about 15 minutes watching people NOT interact with the building. Here was a world class, internationally noted work, but people seemed not to notice it even existed.
You know, I don't know what to do with that! Does it lose value if its qualities are not engaged? Is it ok if only a few take note? To your point about the arena, maybe it's ok. But somehow, I think that we are less human when we don't notice, and at least having a chance to be engaged by beauty would seem better than not having a chance.
Yes, we're definitely less human when we ignore beauty.
But here's me being difficult: some people may find me less human for not seeing the beautiful offensive moves on a basketball court or enjoying a quadratic equation in algebra. I'm happy to live in a world where I can explain to people why I find certain things beautiful and they can do the same with me. Yes? (Shoot, now I'm thinking of an essay. . .)
That is really well said, Caroline. You are right, that's part of the joy of being in community. I love the picture of people sitting around sharing about the beauty that moves them. Hey, I think you need to do a blog on that!