All text and photos 2012, Ryan Witte.
Showing posts with label JFK Airport. Show all posts
Showing posts with label JFK Airport. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Pheonix from the Flame
In celebration of Halloween today, I'd like to make an addendum to my series on JFK Airport and talk about my very first time seeing the interior of Eero Saarinen's TWA Flight Center. I've honestly lost count of how many times I'd been out there and couldn't get inside it. On various trips I didn't realize it'd been closed or had heard it had reopened and it hadn't. In fact, on this trip out, I thought I had heard the restorations had been completed, but they haven't this time, either. Presumably I'll have to go out yet again when it has been completely finished and reopened. What they meant, I suppose, is that the restoration of the main central lobby space is done, which it is. It's not open yet, but the doors were unlocked for Open House New York a few weekends ago.
I did look through music from 1962 in preparation for this visit, but I
didn't have the time to rip all those songs into my computer. Instead I just
loaded up Latin-esque
by Juan Carlos Esquivel onto my iPod. It seemed fitting. There was one
song that came out in late August, 1962 that I've always found somewhat
irritating, but it's just too perfect
to not mention it in this post. Apologies for the "Pickroll" if anyone
feels the same. Amusingly, it may actually be the first song in history
to include the sound of a bong hit.
I had seen innumerable photographs, seen floor plans and drawings, studied the model extremely carefully. Nothing came as a huge surprise. On top of that, although it may have been extremely complicated to construct, it's rather simple in form, in the ways that would matter. It's almost perfectly symmetrical. So one nice coincidence is that I'm able to quote one of my top ten movies of all time, Stanley Kubrick's The Shining (1980) on Halloween: "...it was as though I'd been here before. I mean, we all have moments of deja vu, but this was ridiculous. It was almost as though I knew what was going to be around every corner. Ooooo!" It was still magical to finally be inside what I consider to be one of the most incredible works of architecture of the entire twentieth century.
It is starting to look really beautiful, too. Already it looks noticeably better than the last time I walked around the outside of it. It sounds as if they're going to try to restore much of it back to the period when it was in its heyday as a monument to air travel, from around 1962 to 1969. So all the restaurants and cafes should look extremely groovy. They're also going to retain all reminders that this was once a TWA building. In other words, all the TWA signage will not be replaced by signs for jetBlue. They have a long way to go, but as Saarinen himself said about it being a "beautiful ruin," even in its decrepit state, barely any imagination is required at all to see how fabulously Space Age a work of architecture this is. Evidently the ticket counter wing is going to be converted into a hotel. If they do that right, staying the night there could make it totally worth having your flight cancelled.
Happy Halloween fellow architecture lovers!
All text and photos 2012, Ryan Witte.
All text and photos 2012, Ryan Witte.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
You Have Arrived--Flight 607
Terminal 7: British Overseas Airways Corporation (Gollins, Melvin, Ward & Partners--now GMW Architects, 1970)
GMW Architects, who were chosen in a competition to design this building, also did buildings at both Gatwick and Heathrow Airports. Perhaps their best known work is the Commercial Union Building (now St. Helen's Building, 1969), a brilliant work of corporate Modernist architecture in London.
The AirTrain and parking garage structures probably obscure this terminal more insensitively than any of the others.
--All JFK photos ©2010, Ryan Witte, unless otherwise noted.
It's so bad that it's quite possible there is nowhere one can be to really appreciate the full front facade of the building without being way too far away, way too close, or at some ridiculously contorted angle like being in the very front row of a movie theater. It's a real shame, too, because I think my appreciation for this terminal has grown more than it has for any other.
Of course, it made little difference anyway, because I passed right by a security guard who told me I that I couldn't take photos outside but that inside the terminal was fine. Personally, I get the very strong feeling that there is no official photography policy in any rulebook. I suspect it's more that security guards get a big kick out of hearing the word "no" come out of their mouths. For one thing, this guy didn't react like he was trying to remember exactly what their policy is. He just came right out with the easiest answer.
Terminal 7 is essentially an extruded, truncated upside-down pyramid. The shape pulls upward and also appears to defy gravity to some degree.
The original heavy Brutalist concrete slab at the top seemed to float weightlessly over the canted glass wall below it. This conflict of materials was described by some as being "awkward," but I love its sense of dynamism. At some later date, the concrete was covered over with an aluminum facing that--while more slick and shiny--in my opinion lessens the impact of the effect.
Seeing the interior of this terminal for the first time was a bit of a revelation. As with far too much of JFK at every scale, it's a bit too cluttered up with stuff. In this case, the clutter is advertising mostly and looks a little sloppy. But I have a good talent for removing all that with my mind so I can imagine what it would have looked like when it first opened. The terminal is really amazingly cool.
When you first walk in the door, directly in front of you overhead is a row of canted windows looking down on the lobby. If it weren't for a row of tacky, overly colorful advertising banners strung along its bottom edge, it might look like the control room at NORAD or something.
I ended up needing to use the restroom here and I'm glad I did. Afterward, coming around the other side from where I'd entered, I discovered a moment that proved how glamorous this terminal must have been. It was the combination of the canted windows, clear at top, frosted at bottom, and these fantastically robust chairs designed by Alan Zoeftig in 1995.
There was something about it that just worked. Zoeftig is a world leader in airport furniture, by the way. These chairs also made an appearance in Star Wars--Episode 1.
Terminal 8: American Airlines (Kahn & Jacobs, 1960)
--Photo courtesy Electro's Spark.
This was the firm of Ely Jacques Kahn, one of the greatest architects of the early- to mid-twentieth century and architect of both Bergdorf Goodman and Bloomingdale's. The entire front facade of T8 was an enormous work of stained glass, said to be the largest in the world, by Robert Sowers. The real crime here is not as much that the piece had to be dismantled, but more that, aside from a few parts of it, they so callously disposed of it. It appears that parts of the window wall can be purchased for your own use from Olde Good Glass. Terminals 8 and 9 were replaced by a gigantic and unremarkable mega-terminal building designed by DMJM (AECOM), completed in 2008.
Terminal 9: United Airlines (SOM, 1961)
--Photo courtesy Unofficial 50th Anniversary.
This was also demolished for the new Terminal 8. I suppose it was no great loss, but it was a nice bit of Modernism by SOM. I can concede that it very likely wouldn't have shown its age very gracefully, were it still standing today.
Overall, JFK is visual chaos. Way too much construction litters the landscape, building after building. Everywhere you look: terminal, hangar, administration building, roadway, hangar, mechanical, terminal, train tracks, hangar. Certainly much of the architecture is stunning, merely in need of a face lift. But there's just too much of it.
©2010, Ryan Witte
GMW Architects, who were chosen in a competition to design this building, also did buildings at both Gatwick and Heathrow Airports. Perhaps their best known work is the Commercial Union Building (now St. Helen's Building, 1969), a brilliant work of corporate Modernist architecture in London.
The AirTrain and parking garage structures probably obscure this terminal more insensitively than any of the others.
--All JFK photos ©2010, Ryan Witte, unless otherwise noted.
It's so bad that it's quite possible there is nowhere one can be to really appreciate the full front facade of the building without being way too far away, way too close, or at some ridiculously contorted angle like being in the very front row of a movie theater. It's a real shame, too, because I think my appreciation for this terminal has grown more than it has for any other.
Of course, it made little difference anyway, because I passed right by a security guard who told me I that I couldn't take photos outside but that inside the terminal was fine. Personally, I get the very strong feeling that there is no official photography policy in any rulebook. I suspect it's more that security guards get a big kick out of hearing the word "no" come out of their mouths. For one thing, this guy didn't react like he was trying to remember exactly what their policy is. He just came right out with the easiest answer.
Terminal 7 is essentially an extruded, truncated upside-down pyramid. The shape pulls upward and also appears to defy gravity to some degree.
The original heavy Brutalist concrete slab at the top seemed to float weightlessly over the canted glass wall below it. This conflict of materials was described by some as being "awkward," but I love its sense of dynamism. At some later date, the concrete was covered over with an aluminum facing that--while more slick and shiny--in my opinion lessens the impact of the effect.
Seeing the interior of this terminal for the first time was a bit of a revelation. As with far too much of JFK at every scale, it's a bit too cluttered up with stuff. In this case, the clutter is advertising mostly and looks a little sloppy. But I have a good talent for removing all that with my mind so I can imagine what it would have looked like when it first opened. The terminal is really amazingly cool.
When you first walk in the door, directly in front of you overhead is a row of canted windows looking down on the lobby. If it weren't for a row of tacky, overly colorful advertising banners strung along its bottom edge, it might look like the control room at NORAD or something.
I ended up needing to use the restroom here and I'm glad I did. Afterward, coming around the other side from where I'd entered, I discovered a moment that proved how glamorous this terminal must have been. It was the combination of the canted windows, clear at top, frosted at bottom, and these fantastically robust chairs designed by Alan Zoeftig in 1995.
There was something about it that just worked. Zoeftig is a world leader in airport furniture, by the way. These chairs also made an appearance in Star Wars--Episode 1.
Terminal 8: American Airlines (Kahn & Jacobs, 1960)
--Photo courtesy Electro's Spark.
This was the firm of Ely Jacques Kahn, one of the greatest architects of the early- to mid-twentieth century and architect of both Bergdorf Goodman and Bloomingdale's. The entire front facade of T8 was an enormous work of stained glass, said to be the largest in the world, by Robert Sowers. The real crime here is not as much that the piece had to be dismantled, but more that, aside from a few parts of it, they so callously disposed of it. It appears that parts of the window wall can be purchased for your own use from Olde Good Glass. Terminals 8 and 9 were replaced by a gigantic and unremarkable mega-terminal building designed by DMJM (AECOM), completed in 2008.
Terminal 9: United Airlines (SOM, 1961)
--Photo courtesy Unofficial 50th Anniversary.
This was also demolished for the new Terminal 8. I suppose it was no great loss, but it was a nice bit of Modernism by SOM. I can concede that it very likely wouldn't have shown its age very gracefully, were it still standing today.
Overall, JFK is visual chaos. Way too much construction litters the landscape, building after building. Everywhere you look: terminal, hangar, administration building, roadway, hangar, mechanical, terminal, train tracks, hangar. Certainly much of the architecture is stunning, merely in need of a face lift. But there's just too much of it.
©2010, Ryan Witte
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
You Have Arrived--Flight 506
Terminal 6: The Sundrome (Pei, Cobb, Freed & Partners, 1971)
Sundrome is another fairly cool name for a terminal, although I'll admit I don't know exactly what it means. It was a project begun by the Port Authority in 1959 to house a number of different airlines. When it was finally completed over a decade later, it became the home of National Airlines. The latest tenant, of course, was jetBlue, but they've since abandoned the Sundrome for T5.
--All JFK photos ©2010, Ryan Witte, unless otherwise noted.
The building was the result of a competition. Wallace Harrison was on the jury, as was Pietro Belluschi, who coincidentally assisted Gropius on the Pan Am Building. Another of the competition entries was by Philip Johnson, the drawings for which I would love to see, if I knew where or how to find them. The winning entry ultimately came from the office of I. M. Pei. Luckily, his John Hancock Tower hadn't started raining broken glass onto the streets of Boston, or Pei might have been more cautious in his use of glass. For the Sundrome, he employed the first use in America of glass mullions between the windows. They give the building brilliant structural and visual clarity. It was evidently a huge influence on airport architecture all over the world.
As Pei explained, since there are no metal mullions, it's very clear that it's the columns supporting the building. There's also nothing to disrupt the total transparency of the facade. The Sundrome's vaguely classical sensibility finds intriguing counterpoint in entirely modern materials and construction methods.
On my first trip out, I had the displeasure of seeing the inside of this building in a shameful state of decrepitude. The thing that struck me most was the sickly color of the windows, which I attributed to decades of cigarette smoke. It was later pointed out to me that the sunlight would stream so blindingly through the windows in the afternoon hours that employees were forced to wear sunglasses. The windows had to be tinted. I think the point remains, however, that if my first guess was a coat of tobacco tar, there's something very wrong there.
We've recently learned that the Port Authority has authorized this building's demolition. I, for one, am appalled. It's a stunningly sleek structure by one of our greatest and most celebrated architects. Something must be done to save this building. I myself wrote a heartfelt op-ed piece that I sent to the New York Times, riding the tail of controversy over NYU's interventions at Pei's Silver Towers. They chose to ignore it.
--Photo courtesy E-Architect.
I think it would be a great travesty if it were allowed to be destroyed. The friend of mine with whom I visited JFK the first time and who knows the airport quite well remarked also that due to its size and layout, it would lend itself far better to expansion than some of the other terminals that are not at risk.
The Port Authority wants to tear this down. NYU wants to mess with the Silver Towers site. The Third Church of Christ, Scientist in DC fought long and hard to be rid of their Pei. I just don't get it. It's not like we're talking about Paul Rudolph here. Not that I wouldn't be just as disgusted if it were Rudolph, I just wouldn't be quite so surprised. Almost everything Rudolph has still standing is controversial in some way or another. He's an acquired taste.
Has no one ever even seen the National Gallery of Art building? It's an astonishingly beautiful structure. A coworker of mine recently saw the John F. Kennedy Library in Boston in person (sadly, I never have) and had a similar epiphany about that one (luckily the intervention there, by Rafael Viñoly, is receiving well-deserved accolades). This is the man entrusted with new construction at the Louvre, for crying out loud. I don't know that whole saga, but I can't imagine a project more likely to have to pass through a labyrinthine mire of hopelessly conservative committees and panels and bureaucracy. My point is, I find it difficult to believe that we're even having this conversation about I. M. Pei in the first place. What is the world coming to?
The final chapter.
©2010, Ryan Witte
Sundrome is another fairly cool name for a terminal, although I'll admit I don't know exactly what it means. It was a project begun by the Port Authority in 1959 to house a number of different airlines. When it was finally completed over a decade later, it became the home of National Airlines. The latest tenant, of course, was jetBlue, but they've since abandoned the Sundrome for T5.
--All JFK photos ©2010, Ryan Witte, unless otherwise noted.
The building was the result of a competition. Wallace Harrison was on the jury, as was Pietro Belluschi, who coincidentally assisted Gropius on the Pan Am Building. Another of the competition entries was by Philip Johnson, the drawings for which I would love to see, if I knew where or how to find them. The winning entry ultimately came from the office of I. M. Pei. Luckily, his John Hancock Tower hadn't started raining broken glass onto the streets of Boston, or Pei might have been more cautious in his use of glass. For the Sundrome, he employed the first use in America of glass mullions between the windows. They give the building brilliant structural and visual clarity. It was evidently a huge influence on airport architecture all over the world.
As Pei explained, since there are no metal mullions, it's very clear that it's the columns supporting the building. There's also nothing to disrupt the total transparency of the facade. The Sundrome's vaguely classical sensibility finds intriguing counterpoint in entirely modern materials and construction methods.
On my first trip out, I had the displeasure of seeing the inside of this building in a shameful state of decrepitude. The thing that struck me most was the sickly color of the windows, which I attributed to decades of cigarette smoke. It was later pointed out to me that the sunlight would stream so blindingly through the windows in the afternoon hours that employees were forced to wear sunglasses. The windows had to be tinted. I think the point remains, however, that if my first guess was a coat of tobacco tar, there's something very wrong there.
We've recently learned that the Port Authority has authorized this building's demolition. I, for one, am appalled. It's a stunningly sleek structure by one of our greatest and most celebrated architects. Something must be done to save this building. I myself wrote a heartfelt op-ed piece that I sent to the New York Times, riding the tail of controversy over NYU's interventions at Pei's Silver Towers. They chose to ignore it.
--Photo courtesy E-Architect.
I think it would be a great travesty if it were allowed to be destroyed. The friend of mine with whom I visited JFK the first time and who knows the airport quite well remarked also that due to its size and layout, it would lend itself far better to expansion than some of the other terminals that are not at risk.
The Port Authority wants to tear this down. NYU wants to mess with the Silver Towers site. The Third Church of Christ, Scientist in DC fought long and hard to be rid of their Pei. I just don't get it. It's not like we're talking about Paul Rudolph here. Not that I wouldn't be just as disgusted if it were Rudolph, I just wouldn't be quite so surprised. Almost everything Rudolph has still standing is controversial in some way or another. He's an acquired taste.
Has no one ever even seen the National Gallery of Art building? It's an astonishingly beautiful structure. A coworker of mine recently saw the John F. Kennedy Library in Boston in person (sadly, I never have) and had a similar epiphany about that one (luckily the intervention there, by Rafael Viñoly, is receiving well-deserved accolades). This is the man entrusted with new construction at the Louvre, for crying out loud. I don't know that whole saga, but I can't imagine a project more likely to have to pass through a labyrinthine mire of hopelessly conservative committees and panels and bureaucracy. My point is, I find it difficult to believe that we're even having this conversation about I. M. Pei in the first place. What is the world coming to?
The final chapter.
©2010, Ryan Witte
Saturday, September 11, 2010
You Have Arrived--Flight 405
Terminal 5: Trans World Airlines Flight Center (Eero Saarinen, 1962)The undisputed jewel of JFK Airport.
--All JFK photos ©2010, Ryan Witte, unless otherwise noted.
In my humble opinion, this is probably one of the top five greatest buildings in the whole city of New York, and possibly the most beautiful airline terminal ever built. For sure there are contenders for the title, Sir Norman Foster's Terminal 3 at Beijing Airport (2008), for one. As if we needed more proof of his genius, there's also Saarinen's own Dulles International Airport (1962).
--Photo courtesy About.
Just like the Worldport, the TWA Flight Center was practically functionally obsolete right after it was completed. By the end of the decade, the Boeing 747s were put into service. The Jumbo Jets were too large for either terminal to handle and here necessitated the installation of tubes and hubs extending out from the main structure. I also wouldn't argue with someone bringing into this discussion the Pan Am Building bathing Grand Central Station in its monumental shadow. Nonetheless, I can think of no building that expresses the glory of the Jet Age better than this one.
The entire sculptural expressionist form of T5 seems to suggest not only flight specifically, but constant motion more generally.
I'm ashamed to admit that I still have never actually been inside it. For as long as jetBlue has been fussing around, they have yet to finish whatever it is they're doing with it. Not only is it still not open, but sadly, you can't even walk up to it.
No matter what they do with the interior, I would gain immense respect for jetBLue if they were to accurately and sensitively restore, at the very least, the Saarinen-designed Ambassador Club to its original 1960s glory.
The good news is that the exterior looks in far better shape than the first trip I made to see it. But at its worst--as Saarinen said on his final visit shortly before his death--this building would even make a beautiful ruin; it's absolutely stunning.
I'll be the first to agree that the above-ground parking garages and AirTrain stations have caused needless blight on the already jumbled vistas of JFK. However, I must say they haven't disrupted my enjoyment of Saarinen's masterpiece quite as much as some of the other terminals.
In some ways, I appreciate how the elevated walkways allow for views of T5 that were never possible before.
Part 5.©2010, Ryan Witte
--All JFK photos ©2010, Ryan Witte, unless otherwise noted.
In my humble opinion, this is probably one of the top five greatest buildings in the whole city of New York, and possibly the most beautiful airline terminal ever built. For sure there are contenders for the title, Sir Norman Foster's Terminal 3 at Beijing Airport (2008), for one. As if we needed more proof of his genius, there's also Saarinen's own Dulles International Airport (1962).
--Photo courtesy About.
Just like the Worldport, the TWA Flight Center was practically functionally obsolete right after it was completed. By the end of the decade, the Boeing 747s were put into service. The Jumbo Jets were too large for either terminal to handle and here necessitated the installation of tubes and hubs extending out from the main structure. I also wouldn't argue with someone bringing into this discussion the Pan Am Building bathing Grand Central Station in its monumental shadow. Nonetheless, I can think of no building that expresses the glory of the Jet Age better than this one.
The entire sculptural expressionist form of T5 seems to suggest not only flight specifically, but constant motion more generally.
I'm ashamed to admit that I still have never actually been inside it. For as long as jetBlue has been fussing around, they have yet to finish whatever it is they're doing with it. Not only is it still not open, but sadly, you can't even walk up to it.
No matter what they do with the interior, I would gain immense respect for jetBLue if they were to accurately and sensitively restore, at the very least, the Saarinen-designed Ambassador Club to its original 1960s glory.
The good news is that the exterior looks in far better shape than the first trip I made to see it. But at its worst--as Saarinen said on his final visit shortly before his death--this building would even make a beautiful ruin; it's absolutely stunning.
I'll be the first to agree that the above-ground parking garages and AirTrain stations have caused needless blight on the already jumbled vistas of JFK. However, I must say they haven't disrupted my enjoyment of Saarinen's masterpiece quite as much as some of the other terminals.
In some ways, I appreciate how the elevated walkways allow for views of T5 that were never possible before.
Part 5.©2010, Ryan Witte
Friday, September 3, 2010
You Have Arrived--Flight 304
Terminal 4: International Arrivals Building (SOM, 2001)
...While the open-air top levels of the parking garages were extremely desolate, this was where I felt most suspicious taking photographs.
--All JFK photos ©2010, Ryan Witte, unless otherwise noted.
I was all ready with my full disclosure and presentation of my driver's license and anything else. No one noticed me.
In the ground level parking lot of the International Arrivals Building (IAB), though, I heard from behind me, "HEY! HEY! HEY!" Eventually I realized that "Hey" was my new nickname. It was a security guard sitting in her parked car behind me who wanted to know what I was doing. I explained in as forthcoming a way as I could muster, and she calmed a bit. But she said I should be careful and ask the permission of an officer at every opportunity. We sort of joked about my horrible timing, doing this project only days after someone tried to blow up an SUV in Times Square and escape to Dubai.
The most ironic thing, though, was that the closer I got to the terminals, the less I was being reprimanded. It seemed quite backward, somehow. Inside of them, no one even batted an eyelash that I was taking photos. Certainly it would be near impossible (not to mention silly) to police photography in a place designed for people to bid farewell to loved ones and for groups to embark on exciting journeys to far off places. But I was actually doing my best to avoid having other people in my pictures. Instead I was focused on the structures, which of course is the whole point of this story.
SOM designed both the original IAB in 1957--very possibly the reason First National City Bank hired them two years later--and the new IAB that stands now.
It's a shame that the original IAB had to be lost.
Adding insult to injury, this fuzzy old postcard from 1963, charming though it may be, is one of the only images of the original building that I could find by Googling around. Not even SOM has it on their website.
--Image courtesy Card Cow.
I'm certain it must have been far too small to handle the traffic and had no doubt begun to show its age. But the original building was an exquisitely minimal, delightfully straightforward piece of Modernism, as was all of SOM's work during this period.
--Photo courtesy (and mislabeled by) Electro's Spark.
The 320-foot-high Air Traffic Control Tower, behind the IAB, was completed in 1992 and designed by Henry Cobb of Pei, Cobb, Freed & Partners.
As I said after my first trip to JFK, I would have loved to have seen this building in the hands of Santiago Calatrava, but really it's only fair that SOM should have been asked to redesign their own building. It is a soaring, entirely adept feat of engineering. The sheer size of the main hall is downright breathtaking.
Long slivers of skylight bathe the room in the most flattering natural light.
Happily, one reminder of the old IAB remains: a magnificent Alexander Calder sculpture called .125 (1957).
As I stood watching it for any movement, I did notice it to be turning, though very extremely slowly. I wondered how much it might actually move and figured someone who works there all day long might have some idea. I asked a couple of women at the desk of some Peruvian airline or something. They had no idea. I asked a police officer on duty if he'd noticed it shifting its position from morning to afternoon. He may as well have said, "What sculpture?"
I know people are busy. I know airport employees have more important things to worry about than art. I know when you see something day in and day out you stop noticing it. But I still found it quite a shame that such a fantastic work was being so wholly unappreciated.
Another unfortunate casualty in the evolution of JFK was the demolition of the Tri-Faith Chapels Plaza. The Protestant Chapel was by Edgar Tafel, the Roman Catholic by George J. Sole, and the Synagogue by Walter Hesse, all 1966.
--Photo courtesy Wired New York.
I wouldn't be surprised to learn that in their final years, these buildings stood completely empty for days on end. Their respective architects are also not exactly household names, but they really were beautiful examples of modern religious architecture. Especially wonderful was how the three extended out over the shared reflecting pool.
Four new chapels were built into the IAB: Jewish, Catholic, Protestant, and "Multi-Faith" which looked very much Muslim to me. I can't help but wonder what it says that the only two being used (and both by at least three people each) were the Catholic and Muslim chapels. Although the "Our Lady of the Skies" sculpture of the Virgin standing on a propeller is pretty cool, it was the Protestant chapel that I found especially beautiful.
Unfortunately--and strangely, considering the time of day I arrived--the diminutive Tri-Faith Chapels Museum was closed.
Part 4.
©2010, Ryan Witte
...While the open-air top levels of the parking garages were extremely desolate, this was where I felt most suspicious taking photographs.
--All JFK photos ©2010, Ryan Witte, unless otherwise noted.
I was all ready with my full disclosure and presentation of my driver's license and anything else. No one noticed me.
In the ground level parking lot of the International Arrivals Building (IAB), though, I heard from behind me, "HEY! HEY! HEY!" Eventually I realized that "Hey" was my new nickname. It was a security guard sitting in her parked car behind me who wanted to know what I was doing. I explained in as forthcoming a way as I could muster, and she calmed a bit. But she said I should be careful and ask the permission of an officer at every opportunity. We sort of joked about my horrible timing, doing this project only days after someone tried to blow up an SUV in Times Square and escape to Dubai.
The most ironic thing, though, was that the closer I got to the terminals, the less I was being reprimanded. It seemed quite backward, somehow. Inside of them, no one even batted an eyelash that I was taking photos. Certainly it would be near impossible (not to mention silly) to police photography in a place designed for people to bid farewell to loved ones and for groups to embark on exciting journeys to far off places. But I was actually doing my best to avoid having other people in my pictures. Instead I was focused on the structures, which of course is the whole point of this story.
SOM designed both the original IAB in 1957--very possibly the reason First National City Bank hired them two years later--and the new IAB that stands now.
It's a shame that the original IAB had to be lost.
Adding insult to injury, this fuzzy old postcard from 1963, charming though it may be, is one of the only images of the original building that I could find by Googling around. Not even SOM has it on their website.
--Image courtesy Card Cow.
I'm certain it must have been far too small to handle the traffic and had no doubt begun to show its age. But the original building was an exquisitely minimal, delightfully straightforward piece of Modernism, as was all of SOM's work during this period.
--Photo courtesy (and mislabeled by) Electro's Spark.
The 320-foot-high Air Traffic Control Tower, behind the IAB, was completed in 1992 and designed by Henry Cobb of Pei, Cobb, Freed & Partners.
As I said after my first trip to JFK, I would have loved to have seen this building in the hands of Santiago Calatrava, but really it's only fair that SOM should have been asked to redesign their own building. It is a soaring, entirely adept feat of engineering. The sheer size of the main hall is downright breathtaking.
Long slivers of skylight bathe the room in the most flattering natural light.
Happily, one reminder of the old IAB remains: a magnificent Alexander Calder sculpture called .125 (1957).
As I stood watching it for any movement, I did notice it to be turning, though very extremely slowly. I wondered how much it might actually move and figured someone who works there all day long might have some idea. I asked a couple of women at the desk of some Peruvian airline or something. They had no idea. I asked a police officer on duty if he'd noticed it shifting its position from morning to afternoon. He may as well have said, "What sculpture?"
I know people are busy. I know airport employees have more important things to worry about than art. I know when you see something day in and day out you stop noticing it. But I still found it quite a shame that such a fantastic work was being so wholly unappreciated.
Another unfortunate casualty in the evolution of JFK was the demolition of the Tri-Faith Chapels Plaza. The Protestant Chapel was by Edgar Tafel, the Roman Catholic by George J. Sole, and the Synagogue by Walter Hesse, all 1966.
--Photo courtesy Wired New York.
I wouldn't be surprised to learn that in their final years, these buildings stood completely empty for days on end. Their respective architects are also not exactly household names, but they really were beautiful examples of modern religious architecture. Especially wonderful was how the three extended out over the shared reflecting pool.
Four new chapels were built into the IAB: Jewish, Catholic, Protestant, and "Multi-Faith" which looked very much Muslim to me. I can't help but wonder what it says that the only two being used (and both by at least three people each) were the Catholic and Muslim chapels. Although the "Our Lady of the Skies" sculpture of the Virgin standing on a propeller is pretty cool, it was the Protestant chapel that I found especially beautiful.
Unfortunately--and strangely, considering the time of day I arrived--the diminutive Tri-Faith Chapels Museum was closed.
Part 4.
©2010, Ryan Witte
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