On the heels of the closing of famed New York City restaurant Tavern on the Green comes news that another landmark, the Plaza Hotel, continues to struggle. In my recent post on the demolition and reconstruction of Penn Station, I reached a troubled peace concerning the price of history—acknowledging that despite the best efforts and intentions, we will still lose physical representations of our history. (I'm also currently reading The World Without Us, which has has me thinking a great deal about permanence.) While I clearly tend to get excited about the "incidentals" of history (e.g., an old well, fading commercial signage, the ruins of a hearth, a foundation line, old boundary lines), monuments tend to command public attention. The importance awarded to both "types" of historical artifacts however stems from a connection made with them, which prompts me to question how landmarks come to be—not the official process of designation, but the personal recognition from citizens that award a special status to certain places and monuments. How are these connections formed?
Archive for: January, 2010
I had some time at Penn Station yesterday before my train was announced, so I hung around on the concourse level for a change instead of descending immediately to the track. I really wanted to get a good look at a bas-relief that I walk past every day. You see, it features a bare breasted woman—and it's rather well detailed.