One design will be chosen by the end of the month. A committee of officials–representing the Lower Manhattan Development Corporation (charged with overseeing the plans), the Port Authority (which owns the site) and representatives of the governor’s and mayor’s offices–faces two deeply serious schemes, each with its own inspiring idea to be tested. Libeskind’s plan has jagged towers, a spiky spire and a dramatic void all the way down to bedrock for a memorial site. THINK offers a pair of spectacular open towers, eventually with cultural facilities inside. Both are popular with the public, civic groups and critics, including this one. Officials face a clear, if difficult, choice.
Daniel Libeskind, 56, the Polish-born American avant-garde designer now based in Berlin, is best known for that city’s hauntingly stark Jewish Museum. Libeskind is uber-hip–he wears a Twin Towers/ American-flag pin on his black leather jacket–but never cool: there’s nothing detached in the way he draws on potent memories and emotions. He proposes to leave more than a quarter of Ground Zero as a void, exposing the original slurry walls built to hold back the Hudson River, and to keep that vast, silent space for a museum and memorial. “The site is a powerful place already,” Libeskind says. He’s right. Recently, as arctic winds blasted New York, the water seeping down the rough wall froze into brilliant cascades; it looked like a magnificent Piranesian ruin. Above the void, Libeskind has spun a dynamic spiral of high-rises, culminating in a 1,776-foot spire (OK, the 1776 is corny) that thrusts a garden into the sky. Libeskind loves metaphor: a contemplative ruin at the bottom; life blooming at the top.
The THINK team, which also includes Shigeru Ban of Japan and landscape architect Ken Smith, has thought up a truly subversive core idea–and that’s a compliment. Its plan pushes office buildings (to be designed by other architects in the future) to the perimeter and focuses on the public realm. Two lacy, open silos hover over the footprints of the Twin Towers and soar 1,665 feet into the sky. The team considers these towers infrastructure: cultural facilities of all sorts–exhibition space, concert halls, theaters–can be tucked inside them. “The Twin Towers were the towers of commerce,” says Schwartz. “Then they became the towers of light [in a beamed tribute last spring]. Now they’re the towers of air.”
The selection process has been fraught from the start. Last summer, the public harshly rejected a set of uninspired plans that glutted the site with office buildings, prompting the international competition that brought us Libeskind and THINK, among others. Still, the ultimate fate of the rebuilding project remains murky. Developer Larry Silverstein, who signed a 99-year-lease on the Twin Towers only weeks before 9-11, claims he has a right to rebuild the 10 million square feet of office space lost that day. And the City of New York would like to gain control of the site, through a land swap with the Port Authority. It’s not clear who the real client is: Silverstein? The Port Authority? Or maybe the city?
Over the next three weeks, both finalists must modify their schemes to deal with such issues as underground infrastructure. Libeskind may have to make his void smaller and shallower; THINK has to alter the footing of one tower, which would interfere with underground transit. (Already the knives are out. The New York Times’s editorial page tilted toward Libeskind, while its architecture critic called his plan “kitsch.”) After scrutinizing both schemes for several weeks, the committee hopes to select a single architect or team who would go on to create a master plan. Changes are inevitable in a project so complex, but will the chosen designer’s core idea survive? For now, all we can do is marvel at the architects’ visions and the public’s passion, and hope that those who ultimately choose the final design have their hearts in the right place.
title: “A Tale Of Two Towers” ShowToc: true date: “2022-12-31” author: “Jay Thomas”
Early this week two of those schemes will take a giant step toward possibility. A committee representing the Lower Manhattan Development Corporation, the Port Authority (which owns the site) and the mayor’s and governor’s offices is winnowing down the list of finalists. The group will consider public input, of course–10,000 comment cards were filled out at the exhibit, and the LMDC’s Web site has had 8 million visits. The public has spoken before, notably by trashing the lame plans first trotted out last summer and prompting the competition that’s brought us to this moment. But the ultimate decision about what gets built rests with the powers that be–whoever they turn out to be.
What’s truly remarkable is that the process has called into question the business-as-usual real-estate practices that have dominated New York City for decades–and put visionary architecture in the spotlight. All too often, serious designers have been marginalized: developers think of architects as the guys they hire to decorate the lobby. But the architects emerging in this round are bursting with big ideas that far transcend the stated guidelines. They’ve become cultural emissaries–thinkers, visual poets, city makers.
Yet the role both of these architects and of the public–ordinary citizens with extraordinary passion about the site and the plans–is still threatened. Late last week developer Larry Silverstein, who signed a 99-year-lease on the Twin Towers only weeks before 9-11, asserted a claim on the planning process in a nine-page letter to the LMDC. He insists the 10 million square feet of office space lost that day be restored–though the glut of commercial space was just what the public hated about –last summer’s schemes. Though Silverstein had early access to these plans, only at the eleventh hour is he saying he likes none of them. And he wants any designers chosen to work with his architects, Skidmore, Owings & Merrill. As it happens, SOM partner Roger Duffy led a team that created the least-liked plan in the current exhibit; he withdrew it before suffering further humiliation.
The two leading design teams, on the other hand–Studio Daniel Libeskind and THINK–are popular with the public, civic groups and critics, including this one. A third scheme, by Norman Foster of London, the leader in many public-opinion polls, is now a dark horse, but can’t be entirely written off. Here’s what the race comes down to.
Daniel Libeskind, 56, the Polish-born American avant-garde designer now based in Berlin, is best known for that city’s hauntingly stark Jewish Museum. Libeskind is uber-hip–he wears a Twin Towers/ American-flag pin on his black leather jacket–but never cool: there’s nothing detached in the way he draws on potent memories and emotions. He proposes to leave more than a quarter of Ground Zero as a void, 70 feet down to bedrock, exposing the original slurry walls built to hold back the Hudson River, and to keep that vast, silent space for a museum and memorial. “The site is a powerful place already,” Libeskind says. He’s right. A week ago, as arctic winds blasted New York, the water seeping down the rough wall froze into brilliant cascades; it looked like a magnificent Piranesian ruin. Above the void, Libeskind has spun a dynamic spiral of high-rises, culminating in a 1,776-foot spire (OK, the 1776 is corny) that thrusts a garden into the sky. Libeskind loves metaphor: a ruin at the bottom; life blooming at the top.
Libeskind’s main rival is the THINK team, led by the New York-based architects Rafael Vinoly, 58, and Frederic Schwartz, 50 (and including, among others, Shigeru Ban of Japan and landscape architect Ken Smith). THINK has thought up a truly subversive core idea–and that’s a compliment. Its plan pushes office buildings (to be designed by other architects in the future) to the perimeter and focuses on the public realm. Two lacy, open silos hover over the footprints of the Twin Towers and soar 1,665 feet into the sky. The team considers these towers infrastructure: cultural facilities of all sorts can be tucked inside them. “The Twin Towers were the towers of commerce,” says Schwartz. “Then they became the towers of light [in a beamed tribute last spring]. Now they’re the towers of air.”
Foster, on the other hand, played by the rules, though his scheme for twinned towers 1,764 feet high–that “kiss and touch and become one,” as he’s famously put it–is hugely ambitious. It creates millions of feet of office space, while providing nearly 20 acres of public park by decking over the highway west of the site. Foster would seem to have the perfect resume for the complex WTC job: his 600-person firm has built everything from skyscrapers to subway stations everywhere from Bilbao to Singapore. But last week, as the buzz around his project grew fainter, he began stressing that his towers could be built in phases, or designed to have office space only up to 50, 60 or 70 floors–which happens to address a concern raised in Silverstein’s letter. (Nobody wants to go to work 100 stories up anymore.) There’d been a rumor that Foster was talking to Silverstein and SOM about teaming up, but when asked, Foster said: “I have many conversations with all kinds of people and architects, but I haven’t specifically caught up with this one.”
Foster was hardly the only one promoting his plans or emphasizing his light-footedness in this horse race. At times, the publicity got a little silly. In The New York Times, THINK’s Uruguay-born Vinoly, who also has experience with big urban projects, was described as so delightful he could “open a charm school.” A few days later, the Times devoted an entire article to Libeskind’s cowboy boots. Hey, architects are the new celebrities, aren’t they?
But as the planning committee debates, it faces two deeply serious schemes, each with its own inspiring idea to be tested. Would Libeskind’s eloquent void overwhelm any memorial put there? How tough would it be to shore up the slurry walls? Is his plan too depressing? THINK’s towers could be built right away–and restore the skyline more quickly than any other scheme, rather than waiting for an improved economy to justify new downtown office space. But are THINK’s airy towers, which would cost $480 million (with elevators, stairs and basic services, but not fitted out with the projected cultural spaces), a luxury?
As officials grapple with these extraordinary projects and the extraordinary questions they raise, other troubling issues will surface. After scrutinizing the two final schemes for several weeks, the committee hopes to select a single architect or team and go on to create a master plan. Com-petition designs are always modified, of course–but will the chosen designer’s core idea survive? And who, in the end, is the client here? The Port Authority? Larry Silverstein? The city itself, which is still trying to get control of the site through a land swap with the Port Authority? “Everyone is determined to do what’s best for the city,” says Roland Betts, the businessman (and close friend of President Bush’s) who’s emerged as the LMDC’s leader in the planning process. For now, all we can do is marvel at the architects’ visions and the public’s passion, and hope that those who actually have the power to choose also have their hearts in the right place.
