City of Quartz. Mike Davis

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СКАЧАТЬ International Style amongst affluent Westsiders with the same zeal that Land of Sunshine had once advocated the Mission Revival. Indeed, John Entenza, Arts and Architecture’s editor/publisher (1940–62), was transfixed with a Miesian vision of Wilshire Boulevard and the Hollywood Hills every bit as compelling as Lummis’s Craftsman ideal of the Arroyo and Pasadena. From his case-study home in Santa Monica Canyon (the Westside’s El Alisal), Entenza presided over a latter-day salon that included such important local design pundits as Peter Krasnow, Charles Eames and Alvin Lustig. Any perusal of Arts and Architecture’s 1950s files reveals the extent to which architectural and design Modernism became emblematic of a Westside cultural divide separating new money from old, Jew from Gentile, transplanted New Yorker from hereditary Pasadenan.

      In this period of crosstown Kulturkampf, while Joan Didion was distilling her most dyspeptic imagery, a visiting British design historian, Reyner Banham, was penning the first serious celebration of the city since the booster days of the 1920s. Chief ideologue of the 1950s British ‘Independent Group’ – the midwife to the Pop Art explosion of the 1960s – Banham had once defined Pop as a ‘firing squad without mercy or reprieve’ against hieratic art traditions.¹⁴¹ From this perspective, Southern California, with its aggressive Present-mindedness, was a land purified by an exemplary design terror.¹⁴² Los Angeles: The Architecture of the Four Ecologies (1971) found virtue in almost everything disdained by traditional critics, including the automobile,¹⁴³ surfboards, hillside homes, and something called ‘Los Angeles architecture’. Rejecting the Exiles’ criterion of comparability with ‘classical’ urban space, Banham claimed that Los Angeles’s polymorphous landscapes and architectures were given a ‘comprehensible unity’ by the freeway grid in a metropolis that spoke the ‘language of movement, not monument’. He found the city’s ‘essential dream’ – ‘the dream of the urban homestead . . . the great bourgeois vision of the good life in a tamed countryside’ – a ‘sympathetic ecology for architecture’ and excoriated the elitism of critics who failed to consult the actual desires of the masses. Lest anyone mistake the punchline of his book, Banham also made a companion BBC television documentary, Reyner Banham Loves Los Angeles (1972).

      The effect of Banham’s intervention was quite extraordinary. Supported by his own brilliant prose, as well as by a new aesthetic climate prepared to reverse historic judgements in favor of ‘pop’ sensibilities of all kinds, Los Angeles . . . the Four Ecologies became a turning-point in the valuation of the city by the international intelligentsia. Adopted universally as the textbook on Los Angeles, it established standards – vernacular, decentralist and promiscuous – that continue to frame art-world views of what is happening in California south of the Tehachapis. In face of this resurgent neo-boosterism, it was left to a local art critic, Peter Plagens, to register a principled dissent against the enshrining of Banham’s book:

      When the frail last defenses of the progressive architect are bartered on the counter of hipness, when an ostensibly perceptive specialist takes a look at this obvious dung-heap and pronounces it a groove, then the capitalist quick-buck juggernaut will all the more quickly kill off the green that’s left.¹⁴⁴

      Although Plagens’s bitter warning about the ideological appropriation of Banham was ignored, the latter’s admirers were forced to admit that he had been in error on at least one important point. In a note on Downtown – ‘because that is all downtown Los Angeles deserves’ – Banham had dismissed the ‘recentering’ strategy and depreciated the city’s need for a conventional center.¹⁴⁵ Given the Downtown doldrums of the early 1970s, it was impossible for him to have foreseen the landrush in the 1980s of Japanese and Canadian capital, in the context of epochal geopolitical shifts, that has made Downtown 1990 second only to Tokyo as a financial pole of the Pacific Rim. Nor would it have been easy in 1971 to envision how the traditional Downtown–Westside rivalry – which Buffy Chandler had tried to reconcile in the late 1950s – would be increasingly pacified by a functional sorting-out of central-place roles (i.e., Downtown as international financial center, Century City as the capital of entertainment law, LAX as aerospace headquarters, and so on), and by the gradual inter-elite acceptance of an ecumenical regionalism vis-à-vis the world market.

      This new geography of power has concentrated cultural affluence in two overweening arts acropolises. On Bunker Hill, along a Grand Avenue axis, the 1964 Music Center has been joined by Arata Isozaki’s Museum of Contemporary Art [1986] (which ‘fills the box labeled “Culture” ’) soon to be followed by the Bella Lewitzky Dance Gallery and Frank Gehry’s monumental Disney Concert Hall.¹⁴⁶ Other world-celebrity architects and artists, including Michael Graves and David Hockney, are involved in private developments focused around the Los Angeles Public Library, at the southern foot of Bunker Hill. Meanwhile, sixteen miles west, in the Sepulveda Pass near Westwood, Richard Meier (‘perhaps the world’s leading architect’)¹⁴⁷ is designing the $300 million J. Paul Getty Center: a museum, library and research center for the largest arts endowment in history ($3 billion plus). On the other side of the San Diego Freeway, in Westwood proper, octogenarian Armand Hammer is preparing his own megalomaniacal art mausoleum, while the over-endowed, over-built campus of UCLA bulges with the expatriate cream of European postmodernism (including in a recent year Baudrillard, Derrida and Jencks).

       THE MUSEUM ARCHIPELAGO

      As previously mentioned, large developers dominate every level of this new cultural superstructure. The chairman, for example, of the mayor’s recent blue-ribbon taskforce on the arts was Thomas Maguire III, the region’s biggest commercial developer, who sponsors the feature ‘Art and Culture’ on local public television and whose Library Tower Downtown incorporates artwork from David Hockney. Southern California’s largest homebuilder, Eli Broad, is the dominating presence on the board of the Museum of Contemporary Art, which raises land values in $1.2 billion California Plaza. Donald Bren, meanwhile, the state’s leading latifundista as owner of the Irvine Company, is reported to ‘live only for his art collection’. And, lately, the new rentier elite of Japanese corporations Downtown has also discovered that culture fertilizes real estate. Shuwa Investments, which owns more than $1 billion of prime local property, has offered Mayor Bradley the initial contribution towards a ‘Statue of Liberty’ for Los Angeles (the favored proposal is actually a deconstructivist ‘steel cloud’ designed to be laid over the Hollywood Freeway next to the Civic Center).

      The political clout of developers like Maguire, Broad and Shuwa (all major campaign donors to the mayor and the city council) ensures that municipal cultural policy maximally favors big Downtown or Westside projects, where on-site public art or adjacent museums inflate property values. The Community Development Agency’s vaunted ‘culture tax’ of one per cent on new development – intended to promote ‘the integration of the arts into all aspects of the built environment’¹⁴⁸ – has largely functioned as a sleight-of-hand subsidy to Downtown developers, whose expenditures on monumental kinetic forms, sullen pastel plinths, and fascist steel cubes, are partially recompensed by reduced landleases or advantageous density transfers.

       CATCHING UP WITH MANHATTAN

       Century City

      Moreover, the boom in public art and cultural monumentality has gone hand-in-hand with a culture depression in most of the inner city. As Linda Frye Burnham points out, the gleaming new museums and trendy Downtown loft district are a ‘Potemkin Village, so many facades hiding the fact that L.A. artists are in a desperate state, fighting over scraps, without career opportunities, funds or housing’.¹⁴⁹ Since the late 1970s, school board financing for music and arts instruction has plummeted, key community arts workshops have closed, local jazz venues have folded one after another, Black dance has been shut out in the cold, community theater has СКАЧАТЬ