In a message dated 98-01-28 09:02:07 EST, [log in to unmask] writes:

> > As well, I don't believe that buildings and neighborhoods should remain
>  > to exist unless someone has fought to keep them.
>
>  I don't necessarily subscribe to architectural Darwinism, but this reality
>  (any neighborhood without active defenders is slated for decline) is one I
>  have brougt up in my political campaign.  Knee-jerk ridicule/rejection of
>  neighborhood activism by media and politicians as "NIMBY-ism" is not
>  constructive if we want neighborhoods to survive and thrive.

Actually, on second thought, I once again have to amend my statement. There
are  some incredibly beautiful buildings in Harlem, and the South Bronx, that
I don't see as anyone having put up a great fight to preserve, mostly
residential stock, until now (often with ludicrous results... HUD is not very
keen on preservation techniques). I think in this case the buildings survived
more out of neglect than out of any particular interest to save them. The same
as the Stalin building in Warsaw, possibly too much trouble to bother
removing. I remember being involved in a similar neighborhood in DC where a
friend was restoring a row house. She had deep feelings about the
gentrification that the area was undergoing and made sure to take care of her
tenant as if he was family.

As to International Style and scyscrapers: though I enjoy the tall buildings,
those cities, such as DC, where there are low-elevation height restrictions,
feel different. Wandering amidst buildings with trees and sky mixed in is
pleasant. I think it is the sensual monotony, combined with overwhelming
scale, when it occurs with the International Style that makes us feel weighted
down. We end up feeling like John Henry competing with the spike laying
machine. Was the elicitation of these feelings intentional on the part of the
architects? Or did they ignore the human feeling toward the environment and
simply design by a rule book? I have never found it very good to read
Aristotle's _Poetics_ and then try to write poetry.

To what degree is historic preservation a reaction against the modern? Was
that the question at issue?

Or, was it... can we look forward to the future, fully engaging our spirit and
creative talents, and still preserve that which our ancestors left to us?

I tend to think that historic preservation is a reaction against death, the
desire to leave our own legacy without desecrating the legacy left before us.
Despite any attempts to the contrary, we all leave our mark when we restore an
existing structure. The creative difference may be in our imagining of what
the past was. Our restrospective is never quite the reality and is shaded by
our zeitgeist. (There, got to use another word.)

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