Keeping an Eye on Uptown: Nov. 2019
Tag Archives: Public Art
Keeping an Eye on Uptown: Introduction
Inspired by my post from this summer, I decided to start a photographic series of Pittsburgh’s Uptown neighborhood. This neighborhood is a hodgepodge of abandoned and renovated townhomes, parking lots, car-oriented businesses, corner stores, industrial uses, and new construction residential buildings. It is predicted to be on a tipping point from being mostly ignored to experiencing intense growth fueled by activities in and around the neighborhood. These activities include:
- UPMC Mercy hospital is currently building a 410,000 sq ft vision and rehabilitation center in the middle of Uptown.
- The Penguins hockey team is supposed to be finally getting off the ground with their redevelopment of the Lower Hill neighborhood, which is adjacent to Uptown.
- June 2019 saw the groundbreaking for the CAP project to reconnect the Lower Hill to Downtown over the freeway that bisected the two in the 1960s.
- The Bus Rapid Transit system currently in the planning stage will one day connect Downtown and Oakland through Uptown.
As these projects move forward, there will likely be more investment and changes to Uptown. This photographic series is intended to capture these changes by revisiting the same sites at regular intervals over the next several years.
In the coming months, I intend to release two related series to record the progress of the CAP and the Lower Hill redevelopment.
Visualizing the Wealth Gap: Halloween Edition
Every year, I look forward to the giant, inflatable dragon airing its wings in Beechview. It is the largest decoration in a small yard overflowing with inflatable ghosts and a giant spider, a witch on a broom, lights, pumpkins, and leaves. Many neighborhoods vie for the best and most prolific displays of Christmas lights. If there were a similar contest for Halloween, this modest-sized house with the dragon seems to me the cream of the crop in a neighborhood with a prolific smorgasbord of Halloween lights and decorations.
This year, I discovered a possible competitor for the title in Shadyside along Pittsburgh’s most intact millionaire’s row. On a lawn that is probably bigger than the footprint of the dragon house is an elaborate, customized ghost wedding. Across the street on a slightly smaller lawn, an 8-10 ft high, gleaming, ceramic clown holds court over a multitude of companions (minions?) of similar sinister and expensive cast.
On seeing these displays, my stomach sank. I felt a loss and a disappointment that this neighborhood may steal the crown for best Halloween decorations due to the unfair advantage of having more disposable wealth. I suppose it really comes down to what is the measure for determining the winning neighborhood: quantity, quality, per capita, density, creativity, or exuberance.
Chicago Dog Parade 2
Inclusionary Wealth
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.
Chicago Dog Parade 1
Chicago Cow Parade
Layers of the City: Chicago Edition
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.
Harrisburg Cow Parade 2
Seven Generations
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?
urbantraipsing 