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While this stasis is frustrating, things would worsen if the Berlin-based Libeskind's ghastly scheme accelerated. His jagged skyscrapers, collectively suggesting an explosion at a machete factory, would abut a 30-foot hole beside the WTC's concrete foundation. It, in turn, would recall the Berlin Wall. How did Libeskind
conceive this lugubrious nightmare? Fishing from the Pavement,
a collection of his poetry, opens windows on the world of Libeskind's
psyche. The view is scary. As the New York Post reported June 4, Rotterdam's Netherlands Architecture Institute published this 1997 volume. In it, Libeskind obsesses over excretion. "America turns its mass-produced urine antennae toward Caesar's arrogant ganglion, while history is advocated by utopians as a substitute for defecating," Libeskind explains. Elsewhere he observes: "Executives are praying to a chicken, confident of their brazen dream in which cherubs can not grieve but are instead forced to defecate on ruins in their doctor's presence. Cities fold their legs under tunnels. Culture will be reprieved when the lamb straightens out its doubly coiled intestine." Libeskind's free verse should raise eyebrows among Christians.
...and Jews...
...and Muslims.
Penning grotesque poetry is no crime, but Americans should tremble at Libeskind's capacity for further embarrassment. These stanzas could be dismissed as eccentric scribbles if Libeskind knew a thing about erecting skyscrapers. The dirty little secret is that he never has built one. His signature project is Berlin's three-story Jewish Museum. Handing Libeskind the WTC portfolio is akin to asking a ninth-grader who never has taken the Scholastic Aptitude Test to face a doctoral defense in engineering. One keystone of Libeskind's edifice already has crashed to the ground. His "Wedge of Light" was supposed to bless the new WTC plaza with pure sunshine between 8:46 and 10:28 a.m. every September 11 precisely marking the first assault on Tower One and its final implosion after Tower Two's collapse. Unfortunately, as architect Eli Attia discovered, Libeskind overlooked the Millennium Hilton Hotel immediately east of the WTC. Its shadow would bathe Libeskind's vision in darkness every 9/11. Libeskind also seems to be exploiting this sensitive assignment. He appears in the July editions of 15 Conde Nast publications. His ads for Audi brag that he was "awarded the commission of the century." Amid mounting criticism of his plan, Libeskind and his wife, Nina, have grown defensive. He says it was endorsed by a "powerful public consensus." She says it was chosen "by the people." Actually, rebuilding activist Justin Berzon author of the "Standing Tall" proposal to restore the Twin Towers cites a 2002 survey for the Lower Manhattan Development Corporation conducted as the public debated alternative submissions. While 25 percent of respondents supported Libeskind's entry, 33 percent backed the THINK architectural team's latticework scaffolds that suspend cultural facilities high above Gotham's sidewalks. And 42 percent chose "Neither." In other words, Libeskind's "powerful public consensus" won the bronze medal, behind nothing! The LMDC originally recommended THINK's concept. Alas, New York's epicure-in-chief, Governor George Pataki, pressured the LMDC to stop THINKing and select what I call Libeskind's Switchblade Park. Given Libeskind's jarring literature, tasteless self-promotion and the absence of affection for his work, the LMDC should hand him a severance check and let WTC lease holder Larry Silverstein rebuild. The Twin Towers should return, as before, only stronger. Turning them into high-rise enterprise zones featuring substantial relief from corporate and commercial-rent taxes would populate them in a jiffy. If skittish tenants spurned upper floors, they could be used for dining, hotel and conference facilities. Patrons of such businesses would visit only occasionally a much less intimidating proposition than laboring there daily. Creative minds could resurrect the Twin Towers. But barring that, Silverstein should be unshackled to construct something anything but Libeskind's brittle collection of crushed glass and splintered steel. Until then, Americans should live by these words of wisdom from the mind of Daniel Libeskind: "If you could delay the cat from joining a zero laterally with itself you might be the last to die."
Audi: neverfollow.com Mr. Murdock is a columnist with the Scripps Howard News Service. |
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