Questa settimana lo skyline di New York torna ad essere vivo, con le prime persone che prendono posto negli uffici del nuovo One World Trade Center, eretto laddove si trovavano prima le torri gemelle — tra i primi ad entrare, proprio oggi, i dipendenti di Condé Nast.
La critica è però sempre in agguato. Zachary M. Seward su Quartz fa un’analisi dell’edificio non proprio entusiasmente, definendolo addirittura «un fallimento»:
Born of politics and compromise, the building was never going to be an architectural masterpiece. The final product is a shell of the original vision to erect a soaring complex, known as the Vertical World Gardens, that reimagined New York’s financial district as the welcoming global capital it was always meant to be. Then came the revisions, the short-lived decisionto call it the Freedom Tower, more changes, and delays upon further delays.
What emerged, finally, is altogether safe—from the 185-foot concrete base that defends One World Trade Center against the city around it to the ever-so-slightly creative choice of finishing the building with a stack of tapering octagons. It is hard to imagine anyone getting worked up over this design. From whatever angle you choose to view it, the edifice says just one thing with any passion: that it exists.
Seward arriva addirittura a definirlo come «9/11 kitsch», un’espressione usata solitamente per definire tutta quella memorabilia, spesso tendente al cattivo gusto, prodotta in seguito al tragico evento:
One World Trade Center is 9/11 kitsch. This failure is most obvious in the spire, which stretches the building’s height to 1,776 feet. It’s the sort of empty symbolism that, like the Freedom Tower name, might have once seemed meaningful but now reveals itself to say nothing at all. Worse, actually, for the attempt to evoke American independence is actually an excuse to make One World Trade Center the tallest buildingin the United States, which will help sell $32 tickets to the observation deck, a crucial source of revenue.
(foto via flickr)