We all had a good celebration, didn't we? Now it's back to some fretting and wondering. Even though the Twins have signed the lease, the railroad issue remains unresolved, and the land owners are getting even more lawyered-up. Though everyone's talking like the bulldozers will be getting to work pretty soon, it remains to be seen. There's a big (new, I think) sign at the entrance of the Rapid Park lot which tries to make it look like they'll be there for a while.
So, while there's daylight ahead, I still see some woods. It's too early to really celebrate.
A little bit of miscellaneous for today:
After writing about the Twins design, and the unremarkable way it will appear on the horizon, it occurred to me: that's exactly how you might build a roof-ready park. Could there be a reason behind maintaining such a low profile?
The Vikings released some sketches, but it hardly constitutes a design. It's just a few concepts, and a working draft of a site plan, but I like it. I'll admit, though, that it's hard to imagine anything happening on such a project for at least a couple of legislative cycles.
Another stadium resource became available for really cheap on Amazon, and it yielded even more to think about as I look at the Twins drawings. The introductory essay hits the most important concepts in an eloquent fashion:
Sitting there in Rome -- and not just a craggy old monument -- the Colosseum still oozes action and power. Its form races round in space with that tricky -- but tempting -- ability to grab a 'dynamic' and transmit a sense of that grabbing over the two thousand years of its existence.
We don't just need to be prompted by Technicolor blockbusters with surround sound to remind us of what went on, because it's surely there in the stone and the serried arches that swish past us. the body of the building is, of course, the massive construct that held all those screaming onlookers. Its soul: the now silent field. No plaza, no stage, no altar, no dais -- can approach its aura of dramatic expectation. Yet the architecture is direct, the geometry is obvious, and the architectural rhetoric (despite all the heroism) is remarkably well under control.
The Pantheon (with inset of the magic eye)
The Pantheon, by contrast, has to resort to devices -- its magic eye is brilliantly cunning, of course, but nonetheless it is a contrivance.
So there, in a nutshell, is the basic challenge of architecture. How to deftly capture the magic? Especially when dealing with the challenge of the Event: the Game and the assembly are theatre. The body can somehow celebrate the sense of expectation -- at every stage from turnstile, cloakroom, bar, television room, players' tunnel, and even more so when these things intertwine and feed each other. Put a body of people queuing, hustling and rustling, and you have something infinitely more electric than a town of similar size to that crowd. ...
Another vagabond's memory, this time from South Carolina: after an hour's drive from the airport, through lush and well-tempered countryside, there was a sudden vision. Like Bluebeard's castle on acid, an enormous, beautiful thing loomed up out of the trees: not apparently surrounded by anything in particular. This, the stadium of Clemson (and its University which was there, somewhere under the trees) seemed to come out of a fairytale. It had class, it had guts and it certainly had presence, though oddly enough, I don't remember much about the architecture except, like the team, it felt GREAT.
Clemson Memorial Stadium
So we have the stadium as point of arrival, as point of focus, and in terms of urban theory: the point of departure. From a well-honed, well-sited, and (I would suggest) a well-infested event structure we can conjure up a wonderful 'town' of the 21st century.
In our day-to-day survival, we have moved into the world of the hybrid. We live in the reality of the folded-over experience, with fun-and-games as seriousness: one activity as a trigger for other activities, with a crowd rumbling through the turnstiles with a variety of needs or indulgences to be tapped. The best and most ingenious architects are celebrating and articulating the magic of the event -- with a giant arch or a sweeping curve; a slithering, moving canopy; a preying, gesticulating gangway or a striding leg or two on the go. Yet simultaneously they are beginning to incorporate witty combinations of activity; some circumstantial, some entrepreneurial and many 'inspired'.
This bears repeating:
The best and most ingenious architects are celebrating and articulating the magic of the event -- with a giant arch or a sweeping curve; a slithering, moving canopy; a preying, gesticulating gangway or a striding leg or two on the go.
This nicely sums up the drama which I think is still missing from the Twins design. I know that they have a lot of logistics to figure out first, but let's hope that someone within the organization harbors dreams of great architecture -- not just a functional facility or revenue machine. Truthfully, aspiring to great architecture might just be the best thing they could do for their bottom line.
I originally christened my site "Ballpark Magic" because that's what I always felt out in rusty old Met Stadium. That place, for all it's chain link fencing, really did embody the magic of the event of a baseball game. And this is the standard by which we should consider all of the plans we see for the new park:
Will the architecture celebrate the magic of the event?
"You talk about the magic, the aura, but what really makes a stadium is the fans. Concrete doesn't talk back to you. Chairs don't talk back to you. It's the people who are there, day in, day out, that makes the place magic."
– Bernie Williams
Explore the Site
Here are 50 images chosen randomly from the 3042 found on this site. Click the image to be taken to the original post. A new list is created every 10 minutes.
Photo by Tyler Wycoff
The rough outlines of our urban trench. (North is up.)
Locations for ticket machines near the Hrbek outdoor plaza
4th inning in the thinning crowd of the Grandstand.
Selling exactly what they say they're selling.
Here is a close-up of those funny little islands of seats (HRP View).
Trampled, repaired, and re-trampled grass
Wrigley Field viewed while approaching on foot from the northwest
This is amazingly close to completed. It's a short tunnel entrance ramp to 394 underneath the outfield stands.
Here is one of the concept drawings referenced (but not shown) in the MPR story (conceptual ballpark at left, LRT tracks switched to the north half of the Fifth Street bridge, which is actually in all of the long-range plans).
Train. (What is it about baseball and trains?)
I don't know if the back side is also a test for materials, but it could be a hint of how the exposed steel supports will be finished. Or it could just be to hold up the stone.
Looking back toward downtown from the end of the balcony
The blue line now indicates where the back of the accessible seating ends and standing room begins.
(Click to enlarge.)
An arch under construction.
Plaza seating installation
That is pretty close... (Grandstand)
Mystery door on Seventh Street...
Snow-blowing the field
I finally found the corner of TF dedicated to the Senators. What a wonderful sight.
Click to enlarge.
Lower deck view of the out-of-town scoreboard.
That's Jacque Jones looking up in awe at the Great Greenness.
This is where the plaza meets First Avenue
This is a good overview of the spot where the Northstar (bottom) and LRT (top) will intersect.
Click to enlarge.
Chef stand and menu in the Carew atrium
7:42 PM It moves to the left in the image and begins to blossom.
Here's the current overview from the south side of the B ramp (from which the banner at the top of this page was culled).
Click to enlarge.
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Lots of work has gone into detailing the fronts of these decks. That is a little thing, but a NICE little thing. (HRP View)