Throwing my opinion into this thread, I think George Ferguson is off his rocker. (This in regards to the previous postings about "Grade X.")
But, what might fly in Britain won't fly here (thank goodness). This is just another example of how different countries view the role of the historic preservation movement. For better or worse, we are American and therefore don't nominally regulate good taste even when "a bad piece of architecture mars a beautiful view." In other countries, however, where people are more amenable to stricter regulations on taste and appearance, perhaps this kind of logic can be tolerated. I wonder how Ferguson proposes to seize private property-- a kind of Eminent Domain for the Eradication of Ugly? In a nutshell, I feel like this is what gives the preservation movement, here and abroad, a bad name. We can't let ourselves be thought of as elitist arbiters of good taste, lest we have no rebuttal when Al Krigman posts an email. Here's an excerpt from a piece I wrote in 2000 for a magazine called Loudpaper. It's on a similar topic and discusses the conflict between wanting to forget ugly history and needing to remember. The full article can be found at http://www.loudpapermag.com/article.php?id=11. Also, for those interested, I wrote an essay about a postwar modern structure in San Francisco and the battle that surrounded its demolition/preservation, which can be found at http://www.loudpapermag.com/article.php?id=42. (Unfortunately, the photos that went with these pieces are not posted to the website.) * * * CLEARING THE SLATE Yulia points to an empty space. "You know what that is?" We're in the Ploshtad Batenburg, in Sofia. She points to a light dusting of rubble near the central park. According to the 1999 edition of Lonely Planet's guide to Eastern Europe, the vacuum should contain the now vacant Gyorgi Dimitrov Mausoleum, which was the former home of the preserved body of one of Bulgaria's Socialist-era prime ministers. Although his body was removed in the mid-1990s for cremation, Dimitrov's legacy, in the form of the physical building, remained on the site. "They just destroyed it, it was last month," she says. She laughs as she remembers how all the grade schools took their students on field trips. Lines of students filled through the building before its demolition. Previous to the final decision to remove the structure, a competition was held to elicit ideas for its architectural re-integration into an evolving urban scene. It was a competition without a winner: not one of the entries was deemed appropriate for an adaptive reuse of the building. Perhaps in a time of economic hardship there was simply no money to consider a large-scale renovation of a public building. Perhaps the building was unsafe to stand empty in the square or perhaps demolishing it is preparation for an expansion of the city's neighboring park when funds become available. More likely, however, the removal of this overtly Socialist monument was simply a political gesture. Other purges of Socialist icons are equally ambiguous. Back in Plovdiv, Bulgaria's second largest city next to Sofia, a potential act of eradication hangs in the balance. The Monument to the Russian Soldier supervises the city from the same hilltop as it has since erected following World War II. Bas reliefs around the statue valorize the Russian troops in combat and the Bulgarian citizens who received them warmly. Today, a sense of gratitude to Communist Russia is not a cherished national memory. Hopefuls for election to city government proposed entirely removing the monument, despite its structural soundness and stately presence. The question is, if the statue was destroyed and the memory of its outline on the horizon faded, would prosperity come more quickly to the country? "No," says Yulia. "The Russians were our liberators. We cannot erase our Communist history." Ivan is already shaking his head in disagreement. Both are staunchly anti-Communist but the two differ in opinion on this issue. Yulia sees a need for an honest reconciliation between past and future, while Ivan supports a thorough exorcism of any physical evidence that Bulgaria even existed between 1944 and 1989. He doesn't seem to fear history repeating itself the same way she does. Ironically, although Yulia doesn't want Bulgaria to forget it will be difficult for her to help synthesize Eastern Europe's past and present from her potential new home in an overpriced Brooklyn walk-up. This woman is at once passionate about her homeland and disparaging of a future there. Still, she has her opinions. "Never forget," says Yulia. "No," says Ivan. "Ever. Ever forget." ---- You are receiving this because you are subscribed to the list named "UnivCity." To unsubscribe or for archive information, see <http://www.purple.com/list.html>.
