Tuesday, August 13, 2013

New Architecture Exhibit Showcases "Never Built LA"

Los Angeles gets a bad rap, some of it deserved. The sprawl, the traffic, and above all the endless monotony, make for a dull, SUBurban experience of the US' second metropolis. Take away the mountains and the beach and most any neighborhood in Southern California could be mistaken for another. But a new gallery exhibition at the Architecture and Design Museum on Wilshire Boulevard celebrates the gorgeous ghosts of proposals and unrealized plans that would have made LA into a far different, and incredibly distinctive space. What if LAX were one terminal under a gigantic dome, or if Santa Monica Bay were hemmed in by a superhighway perched on artificial offshore islands? See the LA that never was at "Never Built Los Angeles" until October 13th.

Hunter Communications Original News Source:
Los Angeles Times

Link to article: 
Review: A city's unrealized ambitions in 'Never Built Los Angeles'

Excerpt: "In architecture, when we do look back, we usually focus more on mistakes of action than inaction. We mourn the landmarks we've knocked down rather than the ones we failed to build in the first place.

But how do you catalog a history of mistimed, misguided or ill-fated ambition? What about a preservation movement for the ideas and designs that almost made it?

'Never Built Los Angeles,' a revelatory new exhibition at the Architecture and Design Museum on Wilshire Boulevard, is a first step in that direction, an attempt to corral the city's most beautiful architectural ghosts and put them on public view.

Curated by architectural journalists Sam Lubell and Greg Goldin, the show offers a rich parade of proposals for civic projects in Los Angeles and Southern California — by architects including Frank Lloyd Wright, Richard Neutra, Paul Williams, Rem Koolhaas, Steven Holl, Frank Gehry and Jean Nouvel — that for a variety of reasons never got off the drawing board.

The range of work is vast. The show includes parks, monorail systems, movie theaters and churches that appeared, as the curators put it, "on paper and nowhere else." There are doomed master plans here, stillborn office towers and DOA museum wings.

Between 1920 and 1930 alone, Los Angeles considered a plan for an extensive subway and elevated-train system, a series of City Beautiful arches and fountains along the length of Wilshire Boulevard and a county-wide proposal (by the Olmsted Brothers firm, led by sons of the Central Park designer) for new parks and open space.

Had even one of those three projects been completed, the character of Los Angeles would be strikingly different. It would be a more public-minded, greener and perhaps a more equitable city than it is now.

You could probably put together a show like this on any big American city. In Los Angeles, though, the distance between what's offered up to the public and what gets built has been unusually wide.

Our paper architecture is less about theory and more about the drive to change a city that has always seemed singularly full of possibility. Our planning process has focused — and continues to focus — on one-off, big-ticket mega-projects at the expense of a more patient and comprehensive approach, giving architects and developers incentive to swing for the fences while leaving the score card littered with strikeouts.

At the same time, we've always been hamstrung, our ambition stunted, by deep disagreements about what kind of city we want to be: horizontal or vertical, respectable or happily idiosyncratic, extending the traditions of East Coast and European capitals or eager to break from them.

Not all of the projects in the show provoke regret. More than a few qualify as bullets mercifully dodged, including a 1965 plan for an offshore freeway, called the Causeway, running through Santa Monica Bay.

What emerges is a nuanced portrait of this city's tendency to flirt with and then give up on major civic initiatives. Caution cuts both ways. If we'd been a bolder city in terms of public architecture in the 1960s, today we might have a county museum on Wilshire Boulevard designed by Mies van der Rohe. But we might have the Causeway too, or a freeway through Laurel Canyon."

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