Over a few beers at an outside cafe at the University Village Shopping Center, Sage Van Wing, Dominic Black and I had a very friendly discussion ( really it was very friendly, only lowercase shouting) about the value of modern architecture in particular the value of malls and shopping centers in the modern landscape. We are gearing up for Friday's show on Seattle's architectural history so buildings are on my mind. I put it that the U Village had value, it was fine enough, considering it is a mall, a constructed place, a fabricated mall because it had added tables and planters and a playground and even a clock tower. In particular, the clock tower rankled Dom, (perhaps because he comes from a land where clock towers mean Big Ben and those English overlords, I don't know) but the whole place, for Sage and Dom, is too fake , all based on commerce, inorganic and undemocratic.
To which I say, don't let the perfect be the enemy of the good. Or at least the o.k. I say look at all the people enjoying the free public space, the playground, even, yes even the clock tower- you can see what time it is, after all! It could be worse, it could be a mall without any public space beyond the parking spaces and the sidewalk to the store.
We want a place to have a history and be able to see it in the built space. But what about the history lost when a place is built? Why not reject a place for being built in the first place. U Village was a nursery, and a farm, a wetland, and underwater. Does that history reveal itself? No, but neither does the wild past reveal itself in most built spaces.
We start with the built spaces we have. You don't like malls. You don't like their electric lights disguised as street lamps, we don't like their corporate franchises. O.k., but you are surrounded. For many people, this is their space, this is their starting point in the built environment. We aren't blowing them up. Let's try to re-imagine them. People are already adding their own mark. Witness the wineries in the industrial parks outside Woodinville, where planters and garden furniture carve out a more comfortable space in a parking lot. Yes it's still a parking lot, but it is a better parking lot.
What makes a place viable includes how it's used as well as how it's intended. If we reject places because they don't conform to our idea of our ideal city, there will be a lot of places left out. Can shopping malls be turned into more walkable places? Some mall owners are making an effort, even if it feels fake to some, other people are fine with it. They are not brainwashed, or commerce drones, they are simply looking for a place to sit in the shade and watch their kids play.
Can small businesses find a place to sink its roots and grow in malls? Yes, look at the small malls up and down Highway 99. Lower rents and available space offer business owners a chance to start up their businesses.
Now my friends argued that any outdoor dining on The Ave would be better than the mall because it's less controlled, more democratic. Can't argue it would have those attributes, but it would also be much noisier, more crowded and up against belching buses and racing cars. Does comfort have no value? It has some. If the mall businesses on Highway 99 put some tables and chairs out on their sidewalk along the noisy highway, are they making it a more livable, viable neighborhood. Well if the traffic doesn't bug you, if people turn out on the sidewalk and stroll by, I would guess so. Personally, I don't think I would like to be eating right next to 99. Now, most of those businesses are across the parking lot from the road, just as the U Village mall is separated from its parking lot. Would that distance make for a more pleasant experience, with the addition of some big trees in planters and a lattice covered in flowering honeysuckle? Yes, I think so. Would you reject it as weird and fake because you're eating at a mall surrounded by a parking lot and drag your chair over to the side of the highway?
Good places can be built. They were built for centuries. That is of course why we have these notions of good public spaces, ones that offer space for surprise, retreat, observation. In "A Pattern Language", Christopher Alexander has formulated the small built spaces that , added up, create the livable places. If a few of these patterns are used to add some life to faux spaces, don't they have value? Aren't they a little less fake?