samedi 18 juillet 2009
La Défense 2
The triumphant modernist President Georges Pampidou pronounced in 1970 that “there is no modern architecture without towers.” La Défense his promised “forest of towers” is a testament to his undying faith in the promise of rapid modernization.
The CNIT, the iconic building of the first wave of building (pictured above) still stands, however, many of the first modernist buildings such as Gréber’s 1958 ESSO Tower, have been demolished and replaced by larger, higher ground rent producing, office buildings. Gréber’s square, mid-sized, early modernist frame has been replaced by the massive, and uncompelling Coeur de Défense Tower.
Pampidou was not the only President to show a preference for large scale projects. Successive Presidents would seek out further their own grands projets: for Gistard le Musée d’Orsay; for Mitterrand the Bastille Opéra (designed (as my Grade 10 French teacher pummeled into us during obsessing airing of TV5 “Club Sandwhich” episodes) by Canadian Carlos Ott). Not to be outdone by his predecessors, the work-harder-preaching Sarkozy renewed his commitment to a renewal program set into course in 2005-2006. Sarko reinforced his plan for an extensive expansion of La Défense, urging the state-owned site manager EPAD to fund and direct a massive building program on the site, in partnership with the region, the RATP, and the SNCF. La Défense would be Sarko's very own own imprint on the Parisian landscape.
vendredi 17 juillet 2009
La Cité nationale de l'histoire de l'immigration
Opened in 2007, the Cité nationale de l'histoire de l'immigration has taken tentative steps at poking holes at the French republican ideal. It is also a welcome contrast with the Paris grands projets and major cultural destinations. The Museum’s narrative - which highlights immigrant experiences in France - distinguishes itself from other Parisian museums (revolution, revolution, liberté, fraternité, egalité!) by foregrounding the long history of immigration to modern France (Italy, Poland, Germany, Spain, Portugal, Algeria, South America, Vietnam, and sub-Saharan Africa). This in itself is a disruption of the very notion of A French identity rooted in common ideals without difference. In various parts of the exhibit, the museum even attempts to question state regulation of immigration, and the impacts of demanding increasingly excessive levels of documentation and state control of the bodies of status and non-status immigrants.
Equally compelling is the side script detailing the postwar urban renewal projects and the expansion of high-rise apartment blocks on the Parisian periphery through comprehensive housing programmes, and the construction of the (in)famous HLMs. (The current temporary exhibit, by Patrick Zachmann, is a fascinating overview of his past 20 years of photography of the everyday life in the banlieue, which forces the viewer to questions popular representations of life in the French ‘burbs. Zachmann’s exhibit is also a wonderful juxtaposition of the stigmatizing code visual of life in the immigrant, working class suburbs, such as Champigny-sur-Marne, circa 1950, which led to the ambitious programme for constructing eight new towns)
The importance of the built environment, however, is not only contained within the Museum walls. La Cité is housed in a building that was part of the International Colonial Exposition of 1931. As the Museum’s audio-guide tells you, after the expo, the building, and especially the grand hall depicting French contributions to the world (travail, égalité, etc), was used to host various social and diplomatic events. However, disappointingly, the visitor is told very little beyond the architectural history of the building: the bizarre and brutal nature of the colonial exhibits (importing villages for display), colonial ideas of superiority represented in the murals in the main room, are not mentioned. In other words the messy, and ugly colonial underpinnings of the building, and the ideas represented in its frescos, architecture, and purpose, remains hors-texte. A (post) colonial défrichage is left to the viewer. Considering that many visitors are unequipped to decipher these complex meanings, more was needed here. Even some additional information on the nature of the colonial exhibits would point to the nasty nature of colonialism.
Perhaps this silence is less about the museum that about the state of politics. The absence of this critical view of the colonial period is reinforced by the fact that no major national politician was present at the opening of the Museum. Their ambivalence to some of the ideas and issues gingerly addressed in the Cité denotes an appalling unwillingness by the political elite to confront their colonial history. No great surprise, I guess, where, in face of ongoing questions about France’s colonial past, President Sarko recently argued that France “should be proud of its past and stop this nonsense about repentance.” Perhaps, hopefully, la Cité is a
small-work-in-progress-rock being thrown at the wall of chauvinist republicanism.
Link: La Cité: colloquims and articles
Equally compelling is the side script detailing the postwar urban renewal projects and the expansion of high-rise apartment blocks on the Parisian periphery through comprehensive housing programmes, and the construction of the (in)famous HLMs. (The current temporary exhibit, by Patrick Zachmann, is a fascinating overview of his past 20 years of photography of the everyday life in the banlieue, which forces the viewer to questions popular representations of life in the French ‘burbs. Zachmann’s exhibit is also a wonderful juxtaposition of the stigmatizing code visual of life in the immigrant, working class suburbs, such as Champigny-sur-Marne, circa 1950, which led to the ambitious programme for constructing eight new towns)
The importance of the built environment, however, is not only contained within the Museum walls. La Cité is housed in a building that was part of the International Colonial Exposition of 1931. As the Museum’s audio-guide tells you, after the expo, the building, and especially the grand hall depicting French contributions to the world (travail, égalité, etc), was used to host various social and diplomatic events. However, disappointingly, the visitor is told very little beyond the architectural history of the building: the bizarre and brutal nature of the colonial exhibits (importing villages for display), colonial ideas of superiority represented in the murals in the main room, are not mentioned. In other words the messy, and ugly colonial underpinnings of the building, and the ideas represented in its frescos, architecture, and purpose, remains hors-texte. A (post) colonial défrichage is left to the viewer. Considering that many visitors are unequipped to decipher these complex meanings, more was needed here. Even some additional information on the nature of the colonial exhibits would point to the nasty nature of colonialism.
Perhaps this silence is less about the museum that about the state of politics. The absence of this critical view of the colonial period is reinforced by the fact that no major national politician was present at the opening of the Museum. Their ambivalence to some of the ideas and issues gingerly addressed in the Cité denotes an appalling unwillingness by the political elite to confront their colonial history. No great surprise, I guess, where, in face of ongoing questions about France’s colonial past, President Sarko recently argued that France “should be proud of its past and stop this nonsense about repentance.” Perhaps, hopefully, la Cité is a
small-work-in-progress-rock being thrown at the wall of chauvinist republicanism.
Link: La Cité: colloquims and articles
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