Last fall I sat at an intersection in South Dallas at 2AM, the night pitch-black and the area deserted, even the road-side rib shack shuttered. It was hauntingly poignant, until a fellow in a souped-up Camaro pulled alongside my friend and me and began revving his motor while looking over. The light turned green; he smeared rubber on the pavement while we went our sedate way. This was my last stop in Texas; I had hiked Canyons in Amarillo, and seen stuffed polar bears in Quanah. However, it promised to have the most to see, and I was not disappointed.

For architects, Dallas and Fort Worth can inspire the same emotions as my early morning trip. There is such a concentration of great buildings and parks by famous modernists that many architects make a pilgrimage to see them at least once in their lifetime, and often return elated, surprised and wanting to have a go themselves. The new series of theatre and culture buildings under construction north of Dallas’ downtown undoubtedly add to the draw. These buildings are mainly the result of far-sighted patrons reaching out for the best architects they could find. However, one unexpected result may be something I will call here “Prima donna” building syndrome. Great architecture may have led to bad urbanism.

There are many arguments about what the shared public spaces of cities should look like, but it’s generally accepted that they should provide for multiple purposes and means of transportation. As much as is economical, public space should be a safe and pleasant environment for pedestrians, automobiles, and public transit (and in most of the world, bicycles). Streets have to be designed to accommodate delivery trucks, emergency vehicles, buses, and so on. Successful cities take these functional public spaces, and elevate them into places where people want to interact, such as by allowing activities that attract people (outdoor cafes) and by providing amenities (benches, fountains, and trees for shade). Well-designed public spaces not only have striking designs, but also take into account how long a person is comfortable walking or spending time outside. This is especially a concern with Dallas’ summer temperatures.

Visiting Dallas, I saw many neighborhoods and streets that were examples of good urbanism. They ranged from Swiss Avenue north-east of downtown, to the renovated Bishop Arts neighborhood, and even to the lovely enclave of the fairgrounds. However, almost all of these areas were originally built before World War II. I realized there was no public space built after WWII that I, or any other objective human being, would want to occupy. Deeply embarrassed for my profession, I realized that prior to WWII one had a sense of public spaces being as important as the buildings surrounding them. After WWII, spaces seem designed to serve the buildings. The post-war era saw the elevation of automobile travel into the dominant form of transportation. It also saw the construction of many buildings by world-renowned architects in DFW. This combination may have been lethal for Dallas’ new public spaces.

Dallas City Hall by I.M.Pei is a striking concrete building that runs the width of a city block. Taut, compressed, it seems ready to launch vertically and horizontally. Inside, a series of spaces slide up diagonally while light comes in from above and the side. I.M. Pei also designed the vast and treeless plaza it sits on. No buildings around City Hall plaza are either tall or close enough to give any significant shade. The plaza is paved with concrete; the buildings surrounding it are concrete; the roads are all concrete or asphalt. It’s an excellent example of how the heat island effect works. With the onset of the sun, the concrete warms until its whole mass heats up. Hours after the sun goes down, the area continues to act as a giant radiator. Even in November, crossing it by foot under the Dallas sun was exhausting. However, Young Street does allow an excellent view of the building. One suspects this vista was the main purpose of the plaza’s breadth and starkness. The building was clearly conceived as a sculptural object. Excellent auto parking is found behind the building. Only the pedestrian is a casualty in this design.


Meyerson Symphony Center

Current projects have improved on this model, but the space still generally serves as a unifier of object buildings rather than a coherent design around which the city is formed. Norman Foster’s Winspear Opera House will be a dramatic architectural addition to the city when it is finished. However, it sits on the middle of its lot near Central Expressway in an area that has few sidewalks and little urban fabric. The view of the opera from the highway and the access roads will be excellent, especially given that there will be a great deal of red on the building. Visitors to the Arts District close by can very easily exit from the highway, and then drive into large underground parking garages. Those coming by foot have the distinct pleasure of crossing over several highway access lanes, then continuing along a long stretch of treeless street with thimble-wide sidewalks. By foot the trek felt a good bit more dangerous and unpleasant than City Hall plaza. Given the enormous scale of this project, one is surprised to find that it mainly consists of large buildings serving cultural functions. Nearby are few offices, fewer homes, scarcely any stores, and a mere handful of cafes. It is the definition of a mono-functional area that will only be used when there are performances. The rest of the time, the streets, parking, power lines, and sewage pipes built for this complex will remain unused while still needing to be maintained. This is not only inefficient; it’s a missed opportunity to create a fantastic, vibrant new neighborhood.

      
Renzo Piano’s Nasher Sculpture Garden / Louis Kahn’s Kimball Art Museum

The outstanding modern exceptions are Renzo Piano’s Nasher Sculpture Museum and Louis Kahn’s Kimball Art Museum. Like a villa in the countryside, the Kimball is withdrawn from the tight urban fabric of downtown Fort Worth. However, the outdoor spaces have been as carefully designed as the indoor spaces. From the moment you step from your car or bus, several shaded entries open up. Paths take visitors to the building, through groves of trees, and past ivy-covered courts. When the building is revealed, it’s generally in carefully framed vignettes until one stands before it. It’s a pleasure simply to sit by one of the pools, watching the sunset. I saw many people playing sports on the lawn, couples huddling among the trees, and tired tourists resting on the benches. Strictly speaking, this is not urban design, but it is a great example of architecture and public space designed together.

The Nasher’s design seems inspired by the Kimball, but is designed as an urban building. Nonetheless, the Nasher manages to maintain the Kimball’s cohesion of building and public space design on a much tighter site in downtown Dallas. It presents a pleasant and inviting façade close to the street, but the main surprise is inside. Parallel masonry walls run perpendicular to the street and support an opaque roof. Light is constant, gentle, and diffuse. A few steps away is the outdoor sculpture garden, a delightful space full of great works. This building has allowed the artwork to star, while choosing to fulfill the requirements elegantly and sensitively. On the street, it carries the line of urban fabric, while discreetly making its presence felt.

The success of the Nasher and the Kimball in providing excellent public space that adds to great architecture makes the basic failure of other modernist projects more striking. We should all be concerned with this. Metaphorically, the public spaces in our towns and cities represent the common ideals we share as Americans. Practically, they serve as extra open space that everyone can use, raising the value of surrounding properties. When we add planning that favors automobile access over all other modes, such as in Dallas, it becomes progressively more difficult for pedestrians to move about, and diffuseness makes it difficult for mass transit to achieve economies of scale. Eventually, future projects revert back to planning for the auto. This is the road that the new great works of architecture in Dallas seem to be headed down. One hopes that Dallas’ patrons realize that great architecture does not always lead to a great city.