Condo Churches (Sacred Sites Transformed)

The condo church is now a convention, a "sign of the times" . . . A version of progress(?): The material replacing the spiritual . . . the contradictions of America/capitalism, an object lesson: A “Christian nation” housing its wealthy in once sacred sites . . .

Declining church attendance, diminishing influence of dioceses and religion per se . . . scarcity of housing/consolidation of physical space . . .

Sublime inspirations remain as vestiges, reduced to aesthetics: the arched windows, the heavy but graceful stone, the very setting in blue sky intimacy, on the most beautiful street in Brooklyn.

Foundation

The Ancient Grocery Store on Second Avenue

The ancient grocery store on Second Avenue stands apart from the tide of modernity and “progress.” To step inside is to be jolted back to another time, or at least stunned by the fact that such a relic even exists. Not long ago, even well after their time, such places were plentiful around New York. Inertia, indifference, and a dearth of capital spared them the fate of the wrecking ball.

The ancient grocery store on Second Avenue is near a hospital and surrounded by factories, warehouses, and a few side streets with residential buildings. The store inhabits a cozy universe reminiscent of a simpler time, ordered by the neighborhood’s subdued rhythms and a familiar cast of characters. It is local color in tangible form.

The ancient grocery store on Second Avenue is the exception that proves the rule: all good things must come to an end. Sadly, it may be a testament to the inevitability of the bulldozer’s arrival, for today the developer’s indelicate hand routinely lays waste to wide swaths once teeming with powerful memories in the form of old, weathered structures.

The Ancient Grocery Store on Second Avenue is a quiet rebuke to “development,” “cost effectiveness,” and all the other euphemisms for demolition and the obliteration of history. But hey, what’re you gonna do? Nostalgia don’t pay the bills. (You there, with the anti-gentrification T-shirt, GET A FRIGGIN’ JOB!) Impassioned pleas for preserving the past are often heard from people oblivious to economic realities, whose arguments amount to quaint attitudes about quaint things. Still, that doesn’t make the onslaught of turbo-commerce and the plowing under of things rich in character any less depressing, nor does it give pride of place to those philistines in the real estate business who, in the name of "optimizing investment capital,” perpetuate the worst socio-aesthetic crimes.

The ancient grocery store on Second Avenue, radiating wistfulness and charm, is an edifice to the way things were. Maybe you can't put a price on something with that kind of value, but you can probably put a price on what it would cost to preserve it. I don't have that kind of money, nor do I know anyone who does. The ones who do are busy spending it on other things, like “development.”

The Iron Triangle (A Road Trip to Queens)

Willets Point, the industrial area near Shea Stadium, is also known as the Iron Triangle. It’s a dense cluster of auto-parts and repair shops lining two narrow, mostly unpaved strips gouged by huge potholes that quickly turn into huge puddles with even the gentlest of rains. The area reeks of toxins, that distinct petrochemical smell so prevalent around similarly contaminated environments (like the Gowanus Canal). The whole place seems strange and anachronistic. With its muddy streets, hardscrabble atmosphere, and mostly immigrant workforce, the Iron Triangle is like a slice of the third world plopped down in New York City.



The mayor’s been making big noises about uprooting the gritty businesses of Willets Point and turning the area “green.” That’s all well and good, but if the area does become “a model for sustainability and environmental stewardship,” where else will you be able find such a bountiful selection of headlight covers? And needless to say, the business owners of the Iron Triangle are none too happy about their future prospects in this potentially “dynamic center of life, energy, and economic activity.”




[The mayor] said it would not be hard for the city to make a case for acquiring the privately owned land through eminent domain . . . After the mayor’s announcement, the city held a hearing . . . Amid loud applause, local business owners made it clear that they did not intend to leave without a fight. Outside the [hearing] a couple hundred people marched with placards reading, “Hands off my business.”



The mayor, dispensing high-flown rhetoric from his seat of power and supported by moneyed interests, projects the aura of a visionary, especially compared to some scrap dealer entrenched in the Iron Triangle. That place is strictly old economy, hardly viable according to modern-day notions of “progress” and “development.” If a battle of wills is in the offing, it seems pretty clear even at this early stage who’s going to come out ahead.



Some Iron Triangle businesses have been there for generations, and however much of an eyesore the place may be, it’s certainly pulsating. It has the feel of a close-knit business community, defined by its familiar faces, familiar rhythms, and some sort of shared purpose (which, for the many newly arrived immigrants working there, amounts to basic survival). The plan to transform the area may already be in the works, but life there goes on. The ice cream and water vendors still peddle their wares daily, weaving around the puddles and gingerly-moving traffic, and the many barker-like figures still rush every car that rolls into the ragged bazaar. If you find this sort of thing appealing, visit the Iron Triangle now, before “development” renders it a pale memory.

Source: New York Times (5/2/07)

Gentrification Haiku

Modern buildings among
rows of old ones
begs the question of “progress”

Condos on the Highway, Next to the Cemetery

How’s this for a killer idea: condos on the highway (more or less), next to the cemetery (the Hillside Mausoleum at Green-Wood)? The half-finished building in Windsor Terrace is laughably dubbed “The Simone”—a simulation of elegance in a place lacking same. “Who the hell would want to live there!?” I exclaimed aloud. Not that there’s anything wrong with living near a cemetery, as the picture below illustrates. But The Simone’s proximity to Green-Wood simply underscores the developer’s morbid take on the dictum “location, location, location.”