I went to my usual spot the other morning to gather video footage. I was so happy to have a clear sky after weeks of rain. When I arrived, the plaza, unlike the sky, was not clear. There was a fence and some machinery sitting behind Phoenix Rising. Recently I was told that demolition wouldn't begin until late in the summer. So why the equipment? Not only did the fence confuse me, it spoiled my frame. But that quickly changed. After a few minutes, I began to really like the design of the fence in my frame. I liked how it carried the center of the frame to the right and created an odd sense of balance. I couldn't help but think of my previous post about Tilted Arc and the fence I found surrounding Federal Plaza. It appears that I cannot escape fences with this project. Fences are the new public art. For some people, fences make good neighbors. For me they make good actors.
At the end of this video, there is a girl. She inquires if I am making a movie. This scene is staged. In all the time I have been filming at Dilworth Plaza not a soul has asked me what I was doing. Not even a Police Officer to ask if I have a permit to film. People and Police just pass through my frame, carrying themselves as if no camera is present. Perhaps their nonchalance is their form of acting - trying their best not to indicate. This day, three people asked what I was filming. I could have told my friend to stay home and sleep in. Instead she woke up early and rode her bike from West Philly to City Hall to ask me if I was making a movie. Life imitating art.
The staged scene and the questions, "Are you making a movie? What is it about?" have begun to haunt me. What movie am I making? What is it about? Some days it seems crystal clear while other days I cannot say. I have never made a documentary before. Part of the novelty is exciting while the other part is maddening. It is mostly maddening. I want to refrain from making a voice-over heavy piece where I discuss myself. The constant drumming and droning of "I think this, I remember this, I see this, I feel this, I, I, I" is a frightening thought for me. It's not that I dislike personal documentary filmmaking. It is fine but I demand something more. Something that is even more personal but stands just outside the use of "I, I, I."
This film is about a visual connection I made years ago between a sculpture and a building. Between Emlen Etting's Phoenix Rising and Cesar Pelli's Cira Centre. The film deals with their physical presence in the city. How do they fit into the landscape? How do they define the landscape? Do they? Can they? Are these two pieces in fact a single design that symbolizes Philadelphia or the Philadelphian? What do these two works communicate to those that live here and those that pass through? Apparently Phoenix Rising communicates very little. One can sit for hours on end, day after day, filming the piece and no one stops to ask what you are doing. One has to ask a friend to ride her bike 2 miles just to create the illusion.
The other night I asked my wife and my closest friend what their two favorite buildings are in the city. One old. One new. My wife chose Horace Trumbauer's Philadelphia Museum of Art as her old structure while my friend chose William Strickland's Merchant's Exchange for his. For the newer, more modern, both said Pelli's Cira Centre. I was told that part of that had to do with my years of attempting to cinematize the structure. That my obsession with filming it had somehow left a mark. That it made the building more interesting or more prominent. The fact that Cira Centre is so far removed from the downtown area and stands only 435 feet tall (over 100 feet shorter than City Hall) makes viewing the building difficult unless you walk toward it. Cira Centre, unlike the horrific Liberty Towers and the other downtown skyscrapers, sits quietly on the west bank of the Schuylkill River, just outside William Penn's and Thomas Holme's original plan for the city. Cira Centre does not scream, "I, I, I" but rather, "We, We, We." It is a building for a city and not an architect's nod to architecture. It is not an International design that can be removed from Philadelphia and dropped in another city and remain effective. Similar to Serra's Tilted Arc, if Cira Centre was ever removed, it would lose all meaning. Cira Centre, as Pelli stated, is tied to the history of the city, to the people, to the culture, and to the climate.
If Phoenix Rising is a similar form does it carry the same message as Cira Centre? Is Phoenix Rising a sculpture that carries the history, the people, the culture, and the climate of Philadelphia? We know from Etting's biography that he did. Perhaps I should separate the work from its maker for a moment and ask that same question again. If the answer is "Yes" then how could the removal of Phoenix Rising be good for the sculpture and the city? How can we shift our public works around and maintain our history and culture? I suppose because Philadelphia is a "City of Twos." It was designed in 1682 by two men, Penn and Holme, and was designed to sit between two rivers, the Delaware and the Schuylkill. Oddly enough the Schuylkill empties into the Delaware down at the Navy Yard. I went there to film but the spot is inaccessible and the confluence invisible. It is best viewed on a map.
I was told that Phoenix Rising is being relocated somewhere along the Delaware River. I think that is perfect. It will tie building to sculpture, river to river, and a Philadelphia form to the city's history, culture, climate, and people. It seems only appropriate to quote architect, Santiago Calatrava: " Architecture and sculpture are two rivers in which the same water flows."
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