What we are talking about here are newly built or still-under-construction buildings.
The effect of novelty – surprise, amazement, shock, or even anger – these are all natural emotions for city dwellers living in their familiar surroundings when confronted with something new and unfamiliar. But this is a temporary phenomenon, and its duration depends, on the one hand, on the quality or characteristics of the “newcomer”, and on the other hand, on the preparedness and tolerance of the recipient – the ordinary city resident.
The frequent assertion that some new buildings feel alien stems from the belief that the urban environment surrounding us possesses a certain historically formed code, a cultural and spatial matrix that allows us – with a degree of accuracy that is anything but mathematical – to determine whether a new structure fits into the existing familiar context or not.
These are, of course, emotional and subjective value judgments. It is unlikely that we will ever succeed in formulating a set of logically and legally clear criteria that would allow us to impartially evaluate whether or not a new building is “appropriate” in this or that specific urban space.
If, nevertheless, we try to approach the question of “what is good and what is bad” for the city – or, more precisely, for its development – from the perspective of visual characteristics, appearance, and image, then perhaps it is possible to recognize something as natural, inherent, and proper to that city, without even trying to understand or explain why. Simply: that’s how it happened. And something else may be recognized as alien, accidental, or “uncharacteristic” for that city or for some part of it.
In other words, some things may be considered natural and fitting – that is, correct, and therefore beautiful – while others are accidental and untypical. And even if they are not ugly – after all, beauty and ugliness are a matter of personal taste – they are at the very least accidental for this place, strange, unjustified, alien, or wrong; that is, they do not follow certain rules that were either established or somehow spontaneously formed here once upon a time. And it does not matter how or why it happened – what matters is merely to register the existence of a certain pattern inherent to a specific place in the city.
The violation – or even destruction – of an established development pattern is nothing new for Moscow. Having escaped the radical replanning of the 17th-19th centuries that was envisaged for most Russian cities under their approved “Projected Plans”, Moscow nevertheless went through dramatic redevelopments more than once – ones not foreseen by its historical spatial code. For example, the Cathedral of Christ the Savior, first planned for the Sparrow Hills, and then for the site of a monastery in Chertolye. And then, on that very same site, they again planned to build the Palace of Soviets – all of it in a location that, from the standpoint of the city’s historical planning structure, was arbitrary. From the same perspective, many provisions of the city master plans of the 1930s and 1970s were also rather arbitrary – in particular, New Arbat, which literally blew up a large fragment of the historic city and was aptly nicknamed “a set of false teeth”.
And while those were fragments of the implementation of a system that was unnatural for the historically evolved structure – but, in its own way, logical, carefully thought out, and reasonable within that logic – then the construction in the 1950s-1960s, first in the Arbat side streets and then in other places in the historic center, of the so-called “Central Committee Towers” was a random, unpatterned phenomenon, resembling the result of the Nazi bombing of 1941-1942.
The rules of this game at the time were simple: in pleasant, quiet, cozy lanes they would find houses – usually two or three stories tall – with an appropriate percentage of structural wear. These could easily be declared unsafe and demolished, so that in their place towers of white brick would rise, with Finnish woodwork and large apartments whose windows opened onto attractive views of the old city. Naturally, the locations where these buildings were erected were absolutely arbitrary, and each such building was a “surprise” for local residents.
Of course, resourceful opponents will say that this was more or less how things had always been – for instance, when in the early 20th century, among the same two- and three-story houses in these very lanes, 8- or even 10-story tenement buildings would suddenly rise.
But what distinguished them from the “Central Committee towers”, not to mention their more traditional architectural design? These tenements were erected within the boundaries and dimensions of existing land plots (“parcels”), which ensured sufficient continuity when new construction appeared within the established urban fabric.
What is natural and what is accidental in a city? After all, accidents too can be regarded as natural – since they did in fact occur. And then everything is turned upside down: we must rejoice at every accident and surprise that brightens and decorates our gray – however orderly – everyday life. Our present reality – which arose on the ruins of a planned economy and not only that, as well as of the total regulation of our entire life: Gosplan, the Master Plan, planned economy, planning, plan revisions, and so on – was, as it were, preparing and nurturing these changes within itself. And now, at last, they have broken through, and we have found ourselves unprepared for this “riot of surprises”. And we try to say that this cannot and must not be, because such things are not in the city’s dress code, design code, or some other code – as if such a code actually exists, as if someone has seen it or read it. However, if in fact nothing of the kind exists – if there are only myths, impressions, and emotions about it – then all paths are open, and in the near future we can expect even more architectural “gifts” and surprises, pleasant or unpleasant, as the case may be.
In this connection, we cannot help but recall the fortunate – and in many cases rather base – human capacity to get used to any kind of new construction or other urban absurdity that at first shocks or even offends us: curbs, paving, intrusive and vulgar festive decorations, hideous and wanton landscaping projects, and the like.
Thank God, we already have enough to do and enough problems without them. And will we even notice all this – will our eyes keep tripping over it – when we are often already in low spirits, when something or someone has upset or distressed us, and now this???!!!
This is not a call for tolerance toward every sort of urban surprise and ugliness. Because the numbness and indifference of city dwellers toward their living environment cannot be compensated for by all kinds of imitation discussions and debates that city officials love to organize, pretending to show the social engagement of the urban population.
Much greater benefit would come from the timely publication of projects and the opportunity for feedback on them with municipal officials, developers, and designers – or, for example, from showing the discussion of important and prominent projects at the Urban Planning Council (if it still exists and functions) in city news and on TV, or on websites on the internet. I write this and laugh at myself, surprised by my own naivety.
It is wrong to talk about all this without referring to concrete examples – so here are a few new buildings in different parts of the city that seem somewhat unexpected for the places where they have appeared. They could be called “strangers”, because it is difficult to understand why they – and exactly in this form – appeared precisely in these particular locations. These questions stem from what may be an outdated or already renounced maxim that an architectural work differs from a design object in that it is good and appropriate specifically in this particular place.
And if, to the question “why here?” one can answer that evidently someone acquired the land, this very plot here, and its owners wanted to build something remarkable on it, something to justify the expenses incurred, then to the question “why does this building that stands here has such a shape?” the architect – and those who inspired or compelled them – probably can, or at any rate should, provide an answer.
For example, there are two luxurious, snow-white residential buildings in a quiet lane of two- and three-story houses, where nothing seemed to herald their appearance.
Here is yet another refined, many-arched building – in line with today’s urban fashion – a beauty surrounded by old, modest buildings that you immediately want to replace with something just as beautiful as the new house.
And here is a solitary tower that today seems lost in Moscow’s vast spaces. But it turns out it won’t be lonely for long – soon four more will catch up with it and surround it, among which it will not even be the tallest. This bundle of skyscrapers is being built in mysterious places that not every Muscovite has ever visited. Once upon a time, this area was called the Slaughterers’ Settlement, on the River Krovjanka (“Blood River”), and what people once did there is clear from the name. Why these towers are here – and such beautiful ones at that – is beyond me.
And not far away there is yet another enormous office complex. And that would be fine – architecture can be all sorts of things – but it is a pity that the wonderful Palace of Young Pioneers stands nearby: the finest architectural work of the Soviet 1960s.
And this piece of unreality is clearly not of local origin, since in Moscow people have always treated “buildings on stilts” with suspicion and distrust – beginning with the Centrosoyuz building on Myasnitskaya and other Constructivist structures. But despite this, the building arouses genuine interest, and one wants to see what will come of it in 10-20 years – will they fill in the space beneath it or not?
This, it seems, is a residential building, like its closest neighbors – and in front of it are the remains of the Forum cinema. It is hard to understand where such a thing came from and why it landed here. A mystery!
Of course, these few examples do not show the entire motley picture of Moscow – they are simply the ones that, for one reason or another, most often catch the eye and, one might say, scratch at you when you find yourself in those parts of the city.
These observations are in no way architectural criticism or professional analysis, but rather an attempt to understand to what extent harmony and appropriateness are still relevant and important for contemporary architectural practice – or whether these are words from an outdated and forgotten professional vocabulary. A kind of nostalgia.
