Image via Complex Original
With power finally restored to lower Manhattan, it seems appropriate to write about the architectural giants soaring out of the ground. Residential development in the area has been rapidly accelerating. Despite the slowdown from the recent housing crisis, in the 11 years since 9/11, the residential population south of Canal Street has more than doubled. A number of existing office buildings have been converted into new luxury apartments and even taller new towers have been constructed. 8 Spruce Street is the tallest of them all.
Tallest
Billed as the tallest residential building in New York, Beekman Tower as it was once labeled, is over 870 feet in height, making it the 12th tallest residential building in the world. In 2013, it will be reduced to the second tallest residential building in NYC as One57 will soar almost 140 feet taller. Incidentally, it is One57, also known as Carnegie 57 (155 West 57th Street), that suffered the crane damage during the storm.
Does New York
Designed by Frank O. Gehry, 8 Spruce, takes on many of the typical Gehryisms: It’s clad in titanium panels and employs his traditional curves and folds up the façade. Pretentiously billed as “New York by Gehry,” the slightly more pornographic inversion “Gehry Does New York” would be more appropriate. Other than being a skyscraper, the building isn’t particularly New York, and frankly, other than it being Gehry-esque in materials and style, it lacks some of the true elegance found with his other sculpture-buildings.
Hatred
Forgive my bluntness: I hated this building. The south façade, unlike the other three, is flat and otherwise undersigned; I critiqued the developers for having cut back on the budget, or worse the architect for having to temper his uncontrolled use of titanium to reduce unwanted reflections. (When Gehry built the Disney Concert Hall in Anaheim, they had to clad the building with anti-reflection netting to reduce the glare on the adjacent California freeway).
Concrete
Similarly, when the concrete framing for the tower was poured, I often remarked about how rational and dumb the normal vertical supports to the towers were. In most Gehry constructions, the structure follows the irrational curvature of the skin. With my particular architectural training, this coordination seemed more pure. Despite my normal distaste for his works, I could at least rationalize that he followed the same principles that were dear to my heart. However, in this case it seemed that Gehry was either being constrained by a cheaper construction, or was forced to temper his desires for some other rational reason. At first I was disgusted.
A Change
In hindsight, however, I feel differently. Although I still feel strongly about those reasons for not enjoying the building as it was being built, as it now stands in the skyline of lower Manhattan, I’ve come to love how it fits in.
A Perfect Fit
The blank south facade no longer seems inappropriate, but rather a nod to the other complexities of the skyline to the south. The curves that once seemed trivial, now seem almost perfectly curated. What once seemed like an inappropriate attempt for a SoCal native to try to play in our backyard now belongs. Perhaps this is what it means to be New York.
