Tag Archives: arts

Inclusionary Wealth

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Amid writing my posts about how the wealth gap manifests itself in the built environment and the morality of unequal economic investment in cities, I took another trip to Chicago. I spent most of my stay in the downtown areas within a mile of Grant Park. I love the old stone buildings, established green parks, ornate fountains, and modern glass skyscrapers with interesting architectural embellishments. Yet this trip, I felt hypocritical as I walked around soaking it all in. All these elements that I enjoy are the result of significant financial outlay that I know is not evenly distributed throughout the city. So where was my moral indignation at this display of deeply entrenched wealth unequally spread?

Chicago’s display of wealth isn’t gaudy like Tijuana or Las Vegas. The message I absorb in places like those with their flashing lights is “come on in, so we can suck all the money out of your pockets.” Chicago businesses identified their presence on the street with regular signs leaving it up to the passers to decide whether to engage.

One bar did add a layer of enticement to their sidewalk advertising. I was searching for a place for dinner, with this bar in mind as the one that looked most appealing from Google maps. I was looking around to see if there were any other better options. The smell of the burgers from this first bar convinced me that it was the best option in that vicinity. It was only after I had sat down and ordered that I realized the smell wasn’t coming from the open window, but rather it came from pipes pumping the kitchen smells to the sidewalk. Still it was a subtle inducement and unlike flashing lights it did not have a nefarious undertone.

By pumping out the smell to the sidewalk, it also felt indiscriminate. Anyone passing was invited to enjoy. This was unlike my experience in Cardiff where if I couldn’t afford the items in the business, I felt I shouldn’t be walking past in the public space. I never felt like I didn’t belong in Chicago. There were economic barriers to certain experiences, but those places that I encountered still did not feel exclusionary. One example is the lounge on the 96th floor of Chicago’s Hancock Building. The stunning views are only accessible to those who can afford a $17 cocktail, but those who can afford one only once in a blue moon were just as welcome as those who can afford one or more every night.

In Chicago, I never saw that strong line, as in Tijuana and Cardiff, that divided those with and those without financial resources.  Everywhere I went, there was a mix of people with different economic statuses, skin colors, and first languages. This diversity gave me the feeling that anyone is welcome to enjoy the well-maintained investment in public spaces with or without hitting a minimum financial threshold.

Layers of the City: Chicago Edition

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The first place to show me how a city can be stacked like a layer cake, Chicago provided ample opportunities to explore all levels of the city. The experience of noticing the expansion joints in roads that I assumed were on solid ground opened my eyes to the possibilities of stacking uses.

Underground Life

A vacant lot two stories below street level solved the mystery of the expansion joints, by exposing the inner guts.  Two more roads sit below street level to segregate trash pick-up and deliveries from the flow of traffic.  These lover levels also provide some opportunities for parking without monopolizing valuable real estate above.  Retail shops connected by pedestrian passageways are also interspersed in these layers.

River Life

At the same elevation as the “underground life,” the Chicago River flows through the heart of the city.  On and along the river are a variety of activities.  Pedestrian paths, cafes, housing, parks, industrial uses, and homeless encampments line the shores.  Meanwhile, the river abounds with ducks, boat tours, water taxis, construction staging, and marinas.

Street Level

Back up on the street level, life buzzes.  Vehicular and pedestrian traffic rush passed, occasionally pealing off to visit the numerous shops, offices, museums, restaurants, cafes, parks, and trails.

Pie in the Sky

Yet, more life looms above.  Several of the skyscrapers have penthouse, or nearly penthouse, restaurants.  Others have rooftop observation platforms.  Between these and the street are many other opportunities for enjoying life including a religious sanctuary, the “L”, gardens, art, pedestrian bridges, and of course, offices, apartments, hotel rooms, and shops.

Unlike Pittsburgh, in Chicago, the public is welcome in some form on every level to gain a full experience of the city.

Seven Generations

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One sculpture in Harrisburg’s riverfront park grabbed my mind like no other. Seven silhouettes each cut out of the other lined up in a row.  Looking at it head on, it appeared to be one silhouette.  The effect of their joining together and breaking apart as I passed mesmerized me.

I didn’t want to spoil the effect by learning hard facts about it from any plaque that may have been with it, so I continued on my way.  Yet, the sculpture stayed with me, begging questions I barely knew how to form.  I began to wonder what the artist intended.  My curiosity was unexpected rewarded while I waited for my train home.  The walls of the station had some posters which I read to pass the time.  Turns out they were a guide to the sculptures in the park.  The piece that had engaged me was a reference to the Iroquois stewardship policy to consider the effect any decision would have on the next seven generations before making a choice.

Seven generations.

That would be my great, great, great, great, great grandchildren.

None of the trees my great, great, great, great grandfather and his father-in-law encountered while establishing their homesteads in Western Pennsylvania still stand.  Though it has been sold outside the family, the house my Cross ancestor built is still occupied.  How many of the new buildings I have approved for Zoning in the last four years will still stand seven generations from now?  Will they even survive for two generations?

How many of the next seven generations will be outlived by the plastic bag I brought home from the grocery store because I forgot my reusable bags?

What will happen to the latest gadget that will become obsolete in a year or so?  What will happen to all the energy and waste that went into creating it and then destroying it?

I’ve sometimes heard people question what kind of world they are leaving their children and grandchildren, perhaps even their great grandchildren, but no further than that.  What would happen if we set our sights a little bit further–a few more generations out?

Harrisburg: Coal or Gem

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I didn’t understand the pitying looks I received when I announced my fall vacation to Harrisburg.  Now that it is over, I still don’t understand.

As a capital city, the downtown is quiet on the weekends, but the neighborhoods are still full of people.  Even on a chilly, sleepy Sunday morning, joggers, bikers, and walkers enjoy the fresh air along the riverfront park that is part of the 20-mile Harrisburg Capital Area Greenbelt Trail.  Sculptures dot the public spaces and art coats the fire hydrants and signal control boxes.  Beautiful and intriguing architecture abounds.  A former theater houses the largest used bookstore I’ve ever visited.  Across the street, the Broad Street Market is filled with vendors of such mouthwatering temptations as Amish baked goods, hot Indian food, exotically flavored ice cream, fresh baked pretzels, and more.

A relatively compact and walkable city, I find surprising gems each time I visit Harrisburg.

Mural of Weeds

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I love this mural.  It was put up two years ago along one of the worst stretches of the trail along the Allegheny River.  This is in downtown Pittsburgh, feet away from The Point, and yet it is a barren wasteland of concrete.  Next to one highway ramp and underneath another, the only good features are the river and the view to the north side where the trail has many features and improvements including the well-loved water steps.

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For me, this mural by Kim Beck is aptly named Adjutant, the non-military definition of which is “one who helps” according to Merriam-Webster.  While this stretch of trail is still a wasteland of concrete and weeds (which the mural accurately depicts), it is no longer a creepy section of trail to be hurried through as fast as possible.  Somehow by acknowledging the barrenness, the mural has taken away the edge.

The deadline has just passed on a call for ideas for a new installation at this location, but I am torn about this call.  While it would be nice to have this section of trail feel more connected with the rest of the trail, a part of me is going to miss the honesty of this mural of weeds.