Dean's Journal

BIENNALE REFLECTIONS

Tuesday, August 29

On Tuesday, August 29, as the rest of the University participated in the annual "Gone to Texas" festivities, I went to Venice. That afternoon, Associate Deans Kent Butler and Kevin Alter held an orientation session for graduate students. At 5:00, Associate Dean Louise Harpman welcomed back students and faculty in Jessen Auditorium. Afterwards, students and faculty gathered for barbecue in the Goldsmith Courtyard.

For months, several faculty and students have worked on our Gulf Coast exhibit, emphasizing the theme of resilience, for the 10th Architecture Exhibition of the Venice Biennale. I traveled to Venice to help with the final installation and to participate in the opening activities. Because of the annual alumni mini-symposium back in Austin, I would only be able to participate in the first of four days of opening ceremonies in Venice, but I could help with fine-tuning the installation.

The 2006 Architecture Biennale, curated by London architect and urbanist Richard (Ricky) Burdett, differs from past exhibits. Instead of focusing on individual star architects, the Biennale addresses the larger theme of "Cities, Architecture, and Society." The goal is to present an "overview on how architects, planners, and designers are responding to different urban complexities around the world." The exhibits addressed issues such as migration, sprawl, de-industrialization, and social change in the first urban century.

On the plane, one of my readings was the just-published special issue of Places, "Building Community Across the Transect," devoted to new urbanism (Volume 18, Number 1, Spring 2006). As a long-time user, teacher, and promoter of transects, I read the issue with considerable interest. I especially like, with reservations, an article by Charles Bohl, with Elizabeth Plater-Zyberk, "Building Community Across the Rural-to-Urban Transect."

They include a sidebar on "Nature and the City" that features an imaginative axonometric interpretation of Ian McHarg's sea to inland transect. They state "urbanists believe the integrity of human settlements should be given equal standing with that of the natural world." I concur. Then, they add the specious argument that "environmentalist positions and current regulations both would preclude the building of a new Paris, Rome, Chicago, New York, or Charleston." (They might add New Orleans and Venice.) I would argue that neither environmentalist positions nor current regulations would preclude building any of these places, rather current environmental knowledge would suggest that they be designed differently. In fact, current greening efforts in Chicago and New York suggest that they are already being redesigned differently. Nature has yet to achieve "equal standing" with human settlement.

In the "Nature and the City" sidebar, Bohl and Plater-Zyberk bemoan the call by "environmentalists" to "green the city" because it "will damage the pedestrian continuity associated with successful urbanism." But if such green areas protect an endangered species or help control flooding, so what if pedestrian continuity is inconvenienced? Cannot truly good architects and landscape architects design pedestrian systems to fit the local context?

Bohl and Plater-Zyberk include a regional land allocation map that suggests growth and open space areas for the Mississippi Gulf Coast. The GIS maps for the Gulf Coast that we've produced with EDAW and the Regional Plan Association, which are part of our Biennale exhibit, suggest a very different growth pattern. Although I agree with many tenants of new urbanism, I part company with a sometimes anti-environmental stance that suggests urbanism can trump nature. I agree that urbanism and environmentalism should be balanced, given "equal standing." However, placing some urban uses in inherently dangerous locations, such as areas prone to storm surges and flooding, is foolish. As I write this, I look out my window at the English countryside at the neat matrix of village, field, and woodland and believe such a balance can be achieved.

Wednesday, August 30

I arrive in Venice (without all my luggage) late in the afternoon of August 30. The bag with 25 pounds of Biennale postcards arrives, but not the one with my best suit, dress shirts, camera, and toiletries. British Airways supplies the latter. I'm not alone at the lost luggage line and wait for over an hour to file my claim.

As I write my address, the claim agent asks, "Are you an architect?" I look up and she says, "You write like an architect," adding that her son wants to study architecture at the University of Venice.

I take a motoscafo (water taxi) to my hotel, Casa Sant' Andrea in Santa Croce near the train station and Piazzale Roma. A converted 16th century monastery, the no-frills hotel operates with the "approval of the Venetian Church." The late afternoon sun is low in the sky, which results in the vivid lighting of some building facades and shadows cast across others. After responding to emails and returning a call from a New York Times reporter who is writing about the Atlanta beltline, I walk to a nearby trattoria for a prosciutto and funghi pizza.

The joyful waitress/proprietor sets up tables for the next day with a young Asian boy. Outside I see lightning over the lagoon.

Thursday, August 31

After a breakfast of dry bread, mediocre, wrapped chocolate croissants, too sweet fruit juice, and a passable cappuccino, I'm greeted by most of our installation team: Barbara Hoidn, Eric Hepburn, Rachel Brown, and Frank Jacobus. They are moving into Casa Sant' Andrea for the rest of the installation and opening in spite of its uncharacteristically-for-Italy poor breakfast. The hotel is inexpensive, convenient, and clean with a friendly, helpful staff. Barbara and I travel on the crowded Route 82 vaporetto (water bus) through the scenic Grand Canal, which includes Jeff Koons' Balloon Dog Magenta sculpture in front of Palazzo Grassi, to Giardini della Biennale where our exhibit is being constructed in the Padiglione Italia. Paul Allen's gigantic yacht, Octopus, with at least two helicopters, is parked near the garden gate along with several other impressive boats, in town for the film biennale activities.

Inside the Italian Pavilion, I meet Robert Hegeler and Sven Ulrich from Berlin, who are constructing the armature for our exhibit. Barbara introduces me to our neighbors: the South Africans and the Irish. For the first time, in an architecture biennale, the Italian Pavilion features the work of foreigners. We also meet two young Swiss architects from the ETH exhibit, who seek Barbara's advice about how to mount their work without creating air bubbles. The maze of exhibits projects considerable positive energy and collaboration.

Our exhibit is more stunning than I expected, reflecting much work both here in Venice and back in Austin. The visual depictions of Katrina's consequences are especially powerful. I think we've done a fine job collecting and representing the work of those involved in actual plans for recovery (including Calthorpe Associates, Fregonese Calthorpe, and WRT), as well as speculations by 13 other universities. Wilfried Wang calls our exhibit a "mini-biennale within the Biennale." Our team's concepts, developed under the leadership of Nichole Wiedemann and Jason Sowell, suggest powerful new ideas for the recovery, especially relating to infrastructure. The visual representations are accomplished, clear, and sophisticated; and our exhibit was made possible through the generous support of Fred Clarke and Pelli Clarke Pelli Architects, Howard and Cindy Rachofsky, Mike McCall, the University Co-operative Society, and Diane Cheatham and Urban Edge Developers.

Barbara introduces me to various Biennale officials and then we tour the Giardini grounds to look at other exhibits. The well-lighted Palladian American pavilion is being cleaned by Italian workmen. The Swedish/Norwegian/Finnish-combined Scandinavian Pavilion has three large trees growing through an opening in the ceiling of the main exhibit hall. The British are installing many computers and much A/V equipment with wires running every which way. The French sit outside their pavilion, smoking cigarettes and working on their laptops. We spend some time with the Germans, who have agreed to transport some of Sven's tools back to Berlin. The German exhibit focuses on conversions of urban spaces. Although still under construction, the tall floor-to-ceiling translucent photographic columns are visually captivating. They also have a series of boxes that open to the work of architects with their ideas and projects. Clearly, several exhibits represent a significant investment by their government. Barbara estimates the Spanish have spent 800,000 Euros on theirs. (We made do on less than $200,000.)

Afterwards, we pass through an interior courtyard, Scarpa-designed garden to the Italian Pavilion's Biennale office, where Eric helps me connect to the Internet. I catch up on emails, which include several relating to the Biennale: budget details, invitations, and insurance.

For lunch, Barbara, Eric, and I have panini and espresso at a bar on Via Garibaldi near the gardini, which becomes our regular lunch place. Afterwards, Eric and I visit a hardware store for cable fasteners. Then, I return to the hotel to check on my lost luggage, which has not arrived. I return to the Biennale via the far-less-crowded (this time) Route 51 vaporetto along the Canala della Giudecca, a more proletariat waterscape than the Grand Canal.

I purchase a box of Toscani "Garibaldi" sigaro (a bad habit as I'm warned on the box, "Il fumo danneggia gravemente te e chiti sta interno.") I sit and smoke in the gardini watching architects and workmen leave the Biennale grounds at dusk. Venetians watch their small dogs smell the ground. Earlier, Barbara noted that there are few green spaces or trees for dogs in Venice.

That evening, our crew takes the vaporetto from the Giardini to the Zattere stop. I host a team dinner at Antica Locanda Montin, where we will have our opening night dinner. The garden atmosphere reminds me of a favorite Roman restaurant, Scarpone. My lost bag is waiting when we arrive back at the hotel.

Friday, September 1

On Friday, September 1, Frank leaves. The rest of the crew meets for breakfast at the hotel at 7:30. We take the Route 51 vaporetto to the Giardini. I stand next to a man with "Brazil" on his shirt. As we come near Piazza San Marco, he notes, "Looks like some wonderful buildings there."

"Yes," I agree. "Are you interested in buildings?"

"That's why I'm in Italy."

"Well, after this stop, there's a garden, then an island, so the San Marco stop would be best for buildings." He departs.

In perfect weather, I spend a full day working on touch-up painting, putting up walls, and moving ladders. We listen to Radiohead and the much more upbeat pop tunes of the Cuban hip hop band Orishas and the Afro-Cuban Orchestra Baobab. Outside, around a glass box being constructed to mark the entry to the Biennale, Pink Floyd and Queen are played continuously.

I visit the Biennale office from time to time to check email and take breaks in the Scarpa courtyard garden. Late in the day, I meet Ricky Burdett, the curator of the Biennale, and Giampaolo Bigarello, the architect overseeing construction on the Italian Pavilion, who guides us to a wonderful restaurant on nearby Via Garibaldi, Osteria al Garanghelo.

Saturday, September 2

Saturday is a repeat: beautiful weather, much work. We meet Christian Bruun, a Danish filmmaker from Los Angeles, who is the curator of the U.S. exhibit. We are curious about the inactivity around the U.S. pavilion. Christian explains that their materials did not clear customs and had just arrived--four days late. They will also be addressing Katrina and New Orleans, with the finalists of national and student Architectural Record design competitions featured. Their work is more site-specific than our larger scale, regional coverage. We will cross-reference each other's exhibits.

Barbara and I cross the canal to visit a section of the Biennale grounds with Austrian, Egyptian, Greek, Polish, and other pavilions. The Greeks are especially friendly and give us a tour of their work in-progress. The Greek curator, Elias Constantopoulous (an old friend of Wilfried and Barbara's) recalls meeting me in Austin.

On our return route back to the Italian Pavilion, we pass the ever elegant, always eating Belgians. Theirs was the first pavilion after the Italian to be established in 1907. The Belgium Pavilion is located between the Dutch and the Spanish to the west of the main path leading from the gate to the Italian Pavilion. At a table in front of their structure, they always seem gathered for conversation, wine, food, and smoking.

Ricky Burdett stops by our exhibit with Sir Norman Foster. We discuss Katrina and the lack of progress and vision in the recovery efforts. We take an espresso break, then deliver 150 press packets to the Biennale offices at the Arsonale, where we visit the exhibits of 16 megacities with populations over 10 million (actually 17 cities because Milan and Turin are considered together), still under construction in the linear former rope-making factory. We work late, as Robert, Sven, Rachel, and Eric will be leaving the next day.

We take the vaporetto to the Ponte dell' Accademia stop and walk to Campo Santa Margherita, where we join Rita Bertoni of the Biennale staff for a late dinner at a pizza restaurant. She gives us a packet of opening-event tickets for our guests. We discuss the history of the architecture biennale. An art historian from Milan, Rita is enthused about the theme and the changes made this year. Rita's dog, Greta, accompanies us and someone repeats our observation that there are few public green spaces or trees for dogs in Venice. "True," Rita says, "but, no cars either."

She notes that Venice used to have many more cats, but over time neutering has become more popular, and their numbers have declined. Meanwhile, Rita reports an increase in the rat population. She laments the deleterious consequences of tourism on Venice and of globalization on everything else. After dinner, Eric crosses the square for another slice of pizza from al Volo, described as the "best pizza in the world" by Larry Doll. Eric compares Volo's pizza favorably to what we have just eaten. We talk until after 1:00 a.m., even though Eric and Rachel have a 6:30 a.m. flight back to the States.

Returning to my room, my feet and leg muscles ache.

Sunday, September 3

Eric and Rachel have left by the time I have breakfast on Sunday morning. I take a slow vaporetto, packed with tourists, to Murano. I walk along the canal, recalling a past visit, while looking for Busa alla Torre, a restaurant recommended by Larry Doll. When I asked Larry how to find it, he said it would be "no problem" because everyone would be headed there. I spotted a likely place across the canal, but decided to walk on to shop and to take pictures. A half hour later, I asked directions from a glass shopkeeper who directed me back to the same place I had spotted. I settled in at Busa alla Torre for grilled sole, a mixed salad, and white wine in Campo Santo Stefano. Seated alone in the small piazza with Italian families and tables covered with dark yellow dressing, I take pictures of a brick wall and realize how silly I must appear. Yet, I adjust quickly to this rhythm of life.

The apparent restaurant owner reappears. He's in and out through lunch, making a joyful toast to a large party and resolving an apparent issue with an upset man. The owner is a big man, whose generous belly fills his black t-shirt. He has red hair and a full beard, turning grey. With dark circles under his eyes, he touches the heads of children as he greets his Sunday regulars.

As I wait to pay my bill, I inspect a wall of photographs of the bearded man with many people, as well as a thank you letter from New York City firemen for a contribution he made after September 11.

Larry Doll's recommendation did not disappoint. I return to my gift-shopping walk, noting the many fading "Pace" flags still displayed on the island in protest to our war in Iraq.

I take a fast direct line back to Piazzale Roma. At Casa Sant' Andrea, I meet Jason Sowell, who has just arrived, and we proceed to the Biennale. On the way, the vaporetto detours around a gondola boat race regatta.

Barbara calls from Lido to report she is with Robert and Sven, who will return to Berlin that evening. Jason and I reach Lido to say ciao to the two Germans, then walk around the island, where the film festival is in full swing. We skirt a demonstration by a crowd of Sri Lankans with a bullhorn, then enter the film biennale display area. A blonde Italian starlet is greeted by an adoring crowd on the red carpet.

Barbara, Jason, and I return to the city for dinner at pricy, but quite good Acqua Piazza in Campo Sant' Angelo. Our neighbors admire, first, my arugula and shrimp salad, then my tuna second course. The talkative trio is somehow connected to the American film industry, and we compare biennale notes.

Monday, September 4

After breakfast on Monday, I shop, purchase an International Herald Tribune, have a cappuccino, and experience the joy of recalling one Italian word at a time. Back at the Biennale, we attend to details: there are computer glitches because the power was turned off the night before, plus the German pavilion team had promised to ship Sven's tools back to Berlin, but the truck left a half day before they told Barbara it would.

Architecture Record editor Robert Ivy stopped by, and we discussed the consequences of Katrina. A group of Mexican students visited as well. Their professor, Enrique Martin-Moreno Carrancedo, is a former GSD student of Barbara's and will be teaching at Arizona State University the coming fall.

We return to the Arsanele to try to arrange for a photographer and to check progress on the 16-megacity exhibit. Along the way, we stop for a gelato to provide some relief during this hot, humid afternoon. I take a break to purchase a carnival mask from the shop that supplied Stanley Kubrick for his film Eyes Wide Shut. That evening, Barbara, Jason, and I eat at Trattoria Alla Madonna near Ponte di Rialto, where I had eaten during my first visit to Venice in 1980 and again with my family in 1998.

Tuesday, September 5

On Tuesday morning, we are greeted by fog and Wilfried Wang, who arrived the night before. At our exhibit, Wilfried and Jason take pictures, and we clean up. We are interviewed by journalist Laura Larcan and photographed by La Repubblica. Smilja Milovanovic-Bertram arrives from Castiglio Fiorentino, as does an Austrian friend of Wilfried and Barbara's, Gustav Pichelmann. He also recalls meeting me in Austin and gives me a publication about his recent Mozarthaus project in Vienna.

Barbara, Wilfried, Jason, and I attend to details about the first opening the next day. That evening, Ricky Burdett invites us for dinner at Hotel Monaco on the Grand Canal next to Harry's Bar. We're joined by Ricky's graphic designer wife, Mika; Elias and Vallia Constantopoulos; Gustav Pichelmann; and the Milan architect Pio Baldi (the "commissioner" for the Padiglione Italiano). Ricky, Wilfried, Elias, and Gustav had been classmates at the UCL in the 1970s and became lifelong friends. They were especially influenced by Kenneth Frampton, which is evident in the theme and the structure of the Biennale. With the exhibits about 75% complete, and with the opening the next morning, Ricky and Pio excused themselves after 11:00 p.m. to return to the Biennale to attend to last-minute details.

Wednesday, September 6

At Wednesday morning breakfast on September 6, I met Hal Cohen, the director of planning for the Louisiana Recovery Agency, and his wife, Katie, a history professor at Lousiana State. She is from Tempe and is writing a book about the Catholic churches in Cochise County, Arizona. I tell her about Richard Cleary's forthcoming article about the Catholic Church after the establishment of the Texas Republic. Barbara, Wilfried, and I opened our packet of opening tickets and gave the Cohens theirs.

At 10:00 a.m., we meet several of our guests at the gates to the Biennale to distribute tickets including John Beckman of WRT and my friend Danilo Palazzo of Milan Polytechnic. We spent the day hosting visitors on this first opening day of the Biennale, as well as visiting other exhibits, now about 90% complete. Stretching openings over four days appears to be a wise strategy by the Italians to get the work completed before opening the gates officially to the public. That morning, Kevin Alter arrived from Austin to participate in the opening.

I enjoy the French pavilion, which the French team actually inhabits as the exhibit with considerable humor. They are friendly, offer food and wine, and give out yellow t-shirts. I regret that I've already eaten lunch before I visit the French. In contrast, the British Pavilion is incomprehensible, but flashy. The Aussies are clear and thoughtful, as are the Scandinavians who address urbanity in the Arctic. The Danes have cooperated with Tsinghua University for ideas about the future of Beijing. The U.S. Pavilion has come together nicely. An "Italian" restaurant and an outdoors bar have appeared, remarkably, and illy is providing free coffee for the opening.

As we have a drink on the dock near the Zattere stop, I watch a rat and agree with Rita--a few more cats would be helpful.

That evening, we hosted a "thank you" dinner at Antica Locanda Montin. In addition to our faculty, the Cohens, and the Beckmans, we were joined by faculty from USC, Tulane, and Clemson who had made contributions to our exhibit, as well as Chris Macdonald from the University of British Columbia who curated the Canadian exhibit. The politics of Katrina dominated the dinner conversation.

Thursday, September 7

After breakfast on September 7, I took a land bus to Venice's Marco Polo Airport. We fly out to the north. Below the ancient Roman land division remains evident in the productive alluvial fields. We loop out over marshes into the sea, then back around and over Venice, which I can clearly read from this map in the air.

The place below is threatened by water and by tourists. I wonder: if the natural world would truly be given "equal standing" with human settlement, would the situation be different?

—Fritz Steiner