SITE VISIT

Throughout our site visit, it increasingly became clear that although Lincoln Center claims to be a public plaza and community center, there is little to no accommodations for humans or the natural ecosystem.

Although there were people outside occupying public areas wherever they found an opportunity – including sitting on the edge of the fountain, sitting on ledges surrounding the buildings, playing on railings, etc. – the buildings felt bleak and grey. The cold stone and concrete of the imposing exteriors established a harsh and unwelcoming environment. In contrast, the interior, with its gold, reds, and marble, felt warm and luxurious.

Upon entering the theater, this distinction between ‘inside’ and ‘outside’ became clear as we were immediately closely watched by security when it became apparent we were using the space without intentions of consumption. It’s clear: to truly ‘use’ the space, one must pay.

In addition to little truly ‘public’ areas, there was hardly any consideration for other species. Pigeons had found the one measly section of softer ground to hang out, and there was no attempt to cater to the native flora and fauna of New York. Other than small patches of turf and boxes of plants (clearly decorative pieces for the human gaze) most of the space is covered in thick layers of concrete, discouraging wildlife, and arguably humans from enjoying the ‘public’ space.

PAST AND PRESENT: OUR CRITIQUE

Before there was a theater, Lincoln Center was once San Juan Hill–a vibrant community home to the Afro-Caribbean and Puerto-Rican immigrants of New York. However, in the 1940s, the Slum Clearance Act (headed by Robert Moses) approved its destruction in favor of urban renewal projects. Disadvantaged communities of color were forced out to let in patrons of the arts. A thriving community was destroyed to make way for a ‘community center’ that doesn’t cater to the community.

Who Lincoln Center wants to keep in vs. who they’d like to keep out is perpetuated by its design, which halfheartedly attempts to create harmony between public (outside) and private (inside) space. While inside spaces (theaters) are lavishly and intentionally designed for users (the audience–who pays), outside spaces feel like an afterthought. Looming donor plaques along the walls remind you who the space is really for. This maintains systems and cultures of power, class, displacement, and the inaccessibility of the arts.

Looking further into the past, Lincoln Center and New York as a whole have displaced numerous species of plants and animals. Lincoln Center’s concrete and glass materiality heavily discourages nonhuman inhabitants and destroys the land's ecosystem.

As we see it, Lincoln Center fails to establish public space that is purposefully designed for human communities and wildlife.

We ask Lincoln Center to consider the question: Designed for whom? Designs must serve not just those who can afford high arts, not just humans, but the natural ecology of New York as well.

FUTURE SITE: LINCOLN CENTER REIMAGINED

Looking into the Future, we attempted to re-imagine Lincoln Center addressing one of the major critiques we had of the original design: the materials, forms, and overall landscape lacked energy – more importantly, lacked life.

Letting the materials process inspire our design, we knew an entirely sustainable biocomposite ment bringing in a renewable source to harvest the materials needed. By introducing birds (and the accompanying wildlife and vegetation needed to sustain them) back into the urban landscape, we can re-address the original displacement of New York's natural ecosystems, while simultaneously bringing life back into Lincoln Center.

The nest-pods, made of egg composite, serve as an undisturbed habitat for birds and other species that may seek refuge. The native wildflowers and tall grass not only allow the city to go back to its roots, but provided necessary food, shelter, and open space for a multitude of different species and pollinators.

To cater to the human population in this future New York, the original structure of Lincoln Center's columns have remained as open walkways for pedestrians. Eggshell composite grounds serve as a softer, more engaging floor material, and the ceilings display public art that pays homage to San Juan Hill and its community.

Although perhaps not an immediate fix to the lasting effects of historic displacement – both of communities and ecosystems – the re-inclusion of nature into the urban landscape serves all forms of life.

Christina Sarbanes and Isabel Bravo-Contreras