Lizette Ayala
October 26, 2016
Integrative Seminar 1
Eric Wilson
Greenacre Park is an avatar for escape. It isn’t a normal park by any means. It’s tucked into a box, wedged in between a beauty salon and a nursery school. It’s got all the 90 degree angles that anything man made would. You could very easily miss it if you weren’t paying close attention. In a lot of ways, it alludes to the sensuality of a park – but doesn’t quite achieve it.
Material wise, the allotted space is lined with various types of stones, from concrete to marble and so on. Ivy and shrubbery line the walls at the left most part, while the middle ground is overshadowed by the trees planted (very meticulously, almost perfectly spaced) apart from one another. There were a multitude of decorations that were fall themed – tiny pumpkins, yellow flowers, orange flowers that were set a top small haystacks. However, you weren’t allowed to touch or interact with them – or really anything in the park. From a child’s perspective this wouldn’t really feel like a place to roam free, but almost as if I was in an expensive store and had to be tip toed around.
The space is divided into sectors, or areas of certain activity. To the left, a space to read and enjoy a cup of coffee. To the right, a nook to admire the waterfall. In the center, a place to rest or eat. Although most of the objects that occupy the space are warm in color, the whole area seems a lot like a facade. It felt relatively inviting at first, but the longer I stayed there and the more I noticed, the more I felt uncomfortable.
From a passer-by’s perspective, the park could be seen as some sort of oasis. It’s quite small and personal in that matter. If you tried hard, you could create an alternate universe between the park and the setting of busy New York City behind it. I think that sort of detachment would be hard to achieve though. You would have to go in with no sort of goal, which is opposite of what I did.
I don’t want to purely critique the park, but something about it was very off putting to me. The best way I could describe it would be – going to an older woman’s house and realizing that she has those odd plastic coverings over her sofa and finding it uncomfortable to move your body or eat for fear of interrupting the order of things. It just felt so meticulously curated in every detail that it was like being at a museum. Not knowing what to touch or what behavior was appropriate and the fact that it all felt so contained. It was more of the antithesis of a park.
From the perspective of someone who thrives off of the energy a public park exudes – this park would most likely be a disappointment. There would be an evident detachment between the freeing feeling that would be expected to the feeling of precariousness actually felt. All in all, I think the park works for a certain type of person. Someone hurriedly trying to obtain the illusion of being at one with nature – but not actually being intertwined with it at all. It’s like watering a fake plant – satisfying but lacking.
REVISED:
Green acre Park is an avatar for escape. It isn’t a normal park by any means. It’s tucked into a box, wedged in between a beauty salon and a nursery school. It’s got all the 90 degree angles that anything man made would. You could very easily miss it if you weren’t paying close attention. In a lot of ways, it alludes to the sensuality of a park – but doesn’t quite achieve it.
Material wise, the allotted space is lined with various types of stones, from concrete to marble and so on. Ivy and shrubbery line the walls at the left most part, while the middle ground is overshadowed by the trees planted (very meticulously, almost perfectly spaced) apart from one another. There were a multitude of decorations that were fall themed – tiny pumpkins, yellow flowers, orange flowers that were set a top small haystacks. However, you weren’t allowed to touch or interact with them – or really anything in the park.
From a child’s perspective this wouldn’t really feel like a place to roam free, but almost as if I was in an expensive store and had to be tip toed around. A child wouldn’t feel comfortable climbing the trees or running in and out of the waterfall. It isn’t exactly a place to be carefree. There’s a snack bar which certainly grasp a child’s attention but would result in the child being led to sit down and stay still by a parent (so they wouldn’t make a mess).
The space is divided into sectors, or areas of certain activity. To the left, a space to read and enjoy a cup of coffee. To the right, a nook to admire the waterfall. In the center, a place to rest or eat. Although most of the objects that occupy the space are warm in color, the whole area seems a lot like a facade. It felt relatively inviting at first, but the longer I stayed there and the more I noticed, the more I felt uncomfortable.
From a passer-by’s perspective, the park could be seen as some sort of oasis. It’s quite small and personal in that matter. If you tried hard, you could create an alternate universe between the park and the setting of busy New York City behind it. The waterfall could help in displaying an idea of reflection, something a passerby could spend their lunch noting. I think that sort of detachment may be hard to achieve though. You would have to go in with no sort of goal, which is opposite of what I did.
I don’t want to purely critique the park, but something about it was very off putting to me. The best way I could describe it would be – going to an older woman’s house and realizing that she has those odd plastic coverings over her sofa and finding it uncomfortable to move your body or eat for fear of interrupting the order of things. It just felt so meticulously curated in every detail that it was like being at a museum. Not knowing what to touch or what behavior was appropriate and the fact that it all felt so contained. It was more of the antithesis of a park.
From the perspective of someone who thrives off of the energy a public park exudes – this park would most likely be a disappointment. There would be an evident detachment between the freeing feeling that would be expected, to the feeling of precariousness actually felt. All in all, I think the park works for a certain type of person. Someone hurriedly trying to obtain the illusion of being at one with nature – but not actually being intertwined with it at all. It’s like watering a fake plant – satisfying but lacking.
