Category Archives: Notes from the Director

Eco-Cities: Can They Work?

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From time to time in earlier columns, I have reported on the rising global phenomenon of eco-cities, an urban innovation touted as one of the solutions to conjoined problems of urban sustainability, environmental degradation, and climate change. While eco-cities were proposed as early as the 1970s, they have only become real in the last decade or so, with announcements of the construction of model eco-cities Dongtan, near Shanghai, China, and Masdar, near Abu Dhabi, UAE. Hundreds more are now underway or about to be launched worldwide. But can these cities really do the job their advocates claim they will? Along with Westminster University (UK) and the Johns Hopkins University, the Lemelson Center is co-sponsor of the International Eco-City Initiative.  Among the products of the collaboration is a new study of eco-city standards, which attempt to put these new cities to the test.

“Tomorrow’s City Today—Eco-City Indicators, Standards & Framework”

This recently published Bellagio conference report addresses a key area of contemporary sustainability research and policy: how to define “indicators” and “standards” for sustainable cities, or “eco-cities.” I interviewed the report’s editor, Simon Joss of the University of Westminster.

 

What are eco-cities and why are they important?

Ideas and propositions about eco-cities have been around for at least three decades, and the last five years or so have seen a considerable global mushrooming of practical eco-city initiatives. In the recent survey carried out by our research group, we identified at least 178 eco-city projects globally, although this may be a conservative figure: in China alone, there are reportedly over 250 cities embarked on eco-city development!

That said, defining the eco-city is challenging, for both theoretical and practical reasons. Conceptually, beyond the general idea of eco-cities being more sustainable than current “conventional” cities, it is quite difficult to settle on specifics. There is no agreed norm or standard of what counts as an eco-city. Even agreeing on the basic balance between environmental, economic, and social goals of sustainability can be tricky. Practically, the fact that eco-city initiatives are applied in often vastly different national, cultural, and economic contexts means that they end up taking diverse forms and shapes: a city generating ten per cent renewable energy may be ambitious in, say, India, while the threshold is typically much higher in European cities, such as Freiburg (Germany) and Stockholm (Sweden), with several decades more experience.

However, there are some general, global trends that I think drive current eco-city innovation, against the background of the dual challenges of global climate change and rapid urbanization (in 2008, for the first time in human history the majority of people lived in cities), particularly in Asia and Africa. Among these is the policy of “ecological modernization” which seeks to decouple economic growth from environmental degradation. An illustrative example here is the World Bank’s Eco2 Cities initiative which goes by the slogan “environmental city as economic city.” Another trend is increasing international knowledge transfer, with international architecture, technology, and engineering firms playing a central role. Furthermore, the “carbon” discourse has become a core characteristic of the modern eco-city, as illustrated by terms such as “low-carbon,” “zero-carbon” or “carbon-neutral” cities. In this sense, the eco-city has become more ubiquitous in comparison to earlier examples from the 1970s and 1980s which were much more locally defined.

Wind farm at Caofeidian International Eco-City, about 50 miles south of the port city of Tangshan and somewhat farther from Beijing. Courtesy of SWECO.

Where is the major action today in building eco-cities?

If I had to pick one global region, I would choose Asia, where a whole range of new eco-city initiatives have been launched within just the last few years. As mentioned, this is mainly due to the unprecedented urbanization occurring there—China is said to have to build a new city of the size of New York every year for the next twenty years to accommodate people migrating into urban areas. Similar developments can be observed in India, Indonesia, and Africa. A further factor that I witnessed on visits to China and South Korea is the determination to be at the forefront of technological innovation: one really gets the sense that the new urban age is being shaped in and across Asia.

Of course, innovation in sustainable urbanism is currently also taking place in many European and North as well as South American cities. The recent eco-city initiative of Alexandria (VA), or the eco-districts in Portland (OR) may not be on as large a scale as Masdar (United Arab Emirates) or Sejong (South Korea), but they are just as illustrative of the global attempt to transition to a low-carbon economy.

Artist Impression- Aerial View of Proposed Master plan of Masdar City (Eastern Orientation). Courtesy of Masdar City.

Why should we care about “standards” and “indicators”? In fact, what are they and what problems are they supposed to address?

History teaches us that once in a while a process of consolidation and standardization occurs, often as a result of technological innovation: for example, in the late 19th century when the increasingly ubiquitous application of electricity in daily life prompted the need to develop standardized electrical power systems (though we still often have to pack adaptors when traveling abroad!). Similarly, as more and more cities, businesses, and political organizations strive to implement sustainable strategies and practices, at some point the need arises to develop a “common language.” Otherwise, how can we agree on a bottom line and framework for sustainable cities? It is for this reason that there has been a recent flurry of eco-city indicators, standards, and frameworks. While this is partly driven by efforts by scientists and policy-makers trying to define various aspects of urban sustainability, it is no doubt also driven by business interests aimed at marketing urban sustainability as a “product.”

Our new research initiative, which involves the Lemelson Center along with several other partners across the world, aims to contribute to this emerging debate. We are interested in mapping the various approaches to eco-city indicators and standards—there are so many schemes that we first need to take stock of what is out there—followed by in-depth analysis of how individual approaches actually work: how they contribute to defining sustainable urbanism, guiding policy implementation, and encouraging practice learning among scientists, policy-makers, planners, business, and citizens.

One of the challenges our project will have to grapple with is at which level indicators and standards are most appropriate. Perhaps expecting standards or frameworks to emerge at the global level is unrealistic, given the vastly different local contexts of cities across the world. Then again, reducing carbon emissions is a global concern, which suggests the need for comparable, international measures.

Apart from generating knowledge, we hope that our research will also directly contribute to policy debate and practice innovation. For example, one of our partners is the Clinton Foundation’s Climate Positive Development Program, through which we will have access to, and will be in dialogue with, cities across the world.

London Building With Integrated Wind Turbines. Photo by Christine Matthews, via Wikimedia Commons.

What is and should be the role of technological and other sorts of innovation in the development of eco-cities?

Engineering and technology firms have increasingly become centrally involved in developing eco-city indicators and frameworks. The reason is obvious: cities are one of the main sources of energy consumption and greenhouse gas emissions. So, attempting to effect a transition to a low-carbon economy, one inevitably has to address urban development. Given this focus on energy, it is no surprise that technological innovation is to the fore. At the same time, increasingly various “smart” urban technology solutions, based on information and communication technologies, are applied to manage urban infrastructure and services. Together, these open up huge business opportunities: hence, the current jostling among international technology firms for a market share in urban development. However, as a political scientist, I would add a word of caution: a city is not just a “system,” and not just made of infrastructure; it is also a center of social, cultural, and political activity. Therefore, we surely also need social and cultural entrepreneurs to get involved in eco-city innovation!

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Traveling in Time with James Smithson

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Of the millions of visitors to the Smithsonian each year, I suspect that scarcely more than a handful know anything about the obscure figure who was behind its founding. Born in England in 1765, James Smithson, the illegitimate son of a British nobleman, became a dedicated scientist, deeply versed in chemistry, and well regarded for his careful micro-experiments. From this successful career in chemistry and mineralogy, he invested wisely enough to amass a reasonable fortune. But even those of us who work here know little else about James Smithson because a catastrophic fire in the Smithsonian Castle in 1865 destroyed all his papers and mineral collections, along with all his personal effects.

James Smithson as an Oxford Student, 1786, by James Roberts, Oil on canvas, National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution, Ref. NPG.96.28.

During a recent trip to England, I found myself on a pilgrimage of sorts to  places significant to James Smithson, whose surprise bequest gave birth to the Institution. My first stop was Pembroke College, one of Oxford University’s smaller colleges from which Smithson graduated in 1786. Although the college is currently undergoing renovation, modernization, and physical expansion, respect for its heritage remains strong. Sitting in the common room of the College’s main hall, I had a palpable sense of Smithson’s presence and of the tradition that shaped him. Around the walls hang solemn portraits of the bearers of that tradition, the Masters of the College. Smithson, on the other hand, is a somewhat obscure presence at Pembroke. His memory is marked by a rather modest plaque on the outside wall of the entrance to the main hall; it was a gift from the Smithsonian in 1896. The Brits, it seems, are even less familiar with Smithson than we are in the United States.

I was able to view Smithson's manuscripts in the Royal Society's archives.

From Oxford, I traveled back to London, where my next stop was the Royal Society. Only twenty-two years old when he was inducted into that venerable scientific body in 1787, Smithson was its youngest member. Early on, he had set his sights on becoming a Fellow of the Royal Society, still considered an honor on a par with winning the Nobel Prize. In the Society’s archives, I saw his manuscripts reporting experiments on Tabasheer, among other chemical substances, submitted for publication in the Society’s Philosophical Transactions. I was also thrilled to read the minutes of Smithson’s induction into the Royal Society, even though he eventually had a terminal falling out with the organization.

James Smithson's induction into the Royal Society.

No one really can say why he gave his money to the United States. Some conjecture that his bitter parting of ways with the Royal Society, coupled with anxieties about his illegitimate birth, may have led him to bequeath his largesse not to England but to the United States, a country he had never seen. We have only this famously cryptic mandate: “to found at Washington, under the name of the Smithsonian Institution, an establishment for the increase and diffusion of knowledge among men.” That was the long and the short of it. Yet, from this seed a large research and museum complex eventually grew. This led me naturally to the question: What would James Smithson, a chemist known solely for extremely precise analytical experiments, think of his legacy in terms of what the Smithsonian Institution is today?

Jake Andraka at the Smithsonian American Ingenuity Awards. Photo via Smithsonian Magazine.

By coincidence, only a few days after returning from my brief Smithson exploration, I attended the inaugural Smithsonian Magazine American Ingenuity Awards. This celebration of creativity in its myriad forms illustrates the modern-day Institution’s range, far beyond the highly specialized realms of chemistry pursued by Smithson. The award categories comprised nine subject areas: the Physical and Natural Sciences, Social Progress, Visual Arts, Historical Scholarship, Technology, Education, and Performing Arts.  For me, one of the most inspiring moments was the acceptance speech by high school sophomore Jack Andraka, the Youth Achievement winner, who invented a paper sensor that can detect a protein linked to pancreatic cancer (a project that also won him the grand prize at this year’s Intel Science and Engineering Fair). Bursting with youthful creative energy, Andraka told us how an uncle’s illness prompted his amazingly simple invention. All of the incredibly talented and accomplished winners, though, represented the spirit and variety of the nineteen museums and research centers that make up today’s Smithsonian. They also perfectly embodied the spirit of invention and innovation at the core of the Lemelson Center and of the Smithsonian as a whole.  I came away from the event with a much better understanding of the convergence of all forms of creativity, and heightened insight into how the disparate parts of the Smithsonian can work together toward the greater whole.

If Smithson could have traveled in time to our day, though, what would he have made of all this?  What little survives in Smithson’s own hand deals almost solely with his chemical and mineralogical research, but thanks to Heather Ewing’s recent biography The Lost World of James Smithson: Science, Revolution, and the Birth of the Smithsonian, we now know a great deal more about him, and we see a man and a world not all that different from our own. Uncovering a wealth of fresh evidence, much of it circumstantial but entirely convincing, Ewing argues that Smithson had a romantic soul and a broad interest in man’s place in the cosmos; she documents, for example, his fascination with pre-history and lost civilizations.

Just as important is what she notes about his era: that it was one of amazing discoveries. In Smithson’s time, chemistry was emerging as a science and the basis for a world-transforming chemical industry. A host of new gases were being isolated and electric current was revealing itself as an important new force of nature. New planets and galaxies were being discovered, while geology was undergoing a revolution that would challenge the biblical chronology of creation.

In short, it was an age of ingenuity, perhaps even rivaling our own (keeping in mind that we all tend to be technology chauvinists for our own age). Armed with Ewing’s new evidence, I feel I can say with confidence that James Smithson would have not only understood but applauded the Smithsonian’s American Ingenuity Awards and the wide-ranging institution whose spirit they represent.

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From the Director: The Colorful, Kinetic World of Charles and Ray Eames

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When it comes to inventive uses of color, there is hardly a more inspiring example than the contributions of the late husband-and-wife design team of Charles (1907–1978) and Ray Eames (this year marks the 100th anniversary of the birth of Ray Kaiser Eames [1912–1988]). Working primarily as a painter before their marriage, Ray Kaiser Eames did much to infuse their shared creations, and through them our everyday lives, with color. For Ray, color was not only an aesthetic technique, but also a communications device, a means of conveying information about objects, spaces, and volumes. She had learned this from her teacher Hans Hofmann, the German-born American abstract expressionist, known for his brightly hued canvases.

Chair Designed by Charles Eames and Eero Saarinen for the "Organic Design in Home Furnishings" Competition, designed 1940, molded plywood, wood, foam rubber, and fabric. Courtesy of Vitra Design Museum

While we owe a great deal to the Eameses for brightening and enlivening our everyday lives, they were especially influential in the world of museums. The collections of many art and design museums, including the Museum of Modern Art, boast not only of vibrantly colored plastic and fiberglass Eames chairs, but also of incredibly innovative seating like the “potato chip” chair. Its unique shape depended on new molding techniques that the Eameses developed during World War II for producing plywood splints for wounded soldiers. Lesser-known, though, are the many exhibitions that they designed for museums and world’s fairs.

The Eameses were really all about communication and information, employing design primarily as a public-education tool. In their hands, exhibitions evolved into powerful informational and educational vehicles. Their famous Mathematica exhibit, on the art of mathematics, was sponsored by IBM and debuted in 1961 at the California Museum of Science and Industry. Parts of it are still on display in science museums today, and IBM released an iPad app based on the exhibition last year. The Eameses were also instrumental in introducing films into exhibitions, regarding motion pictures as an indispensable educational technology. Their long and close relationship with IBM produced films for IBM’s pavilions at the 1958 Brussels World’s Fair and the New York World’s Fair of 1964.

ay and Charles Working on a Conceptual Model for the Exhibition Mathematica, 1960, photograph. Image from Eames Office.

The Smithsonian benefited from Charles and Ray’s talents, too. One of my first encounters with the creative work of these geniuses was in the 1970s at the National Museum of History and Technology (now the National Museum of American History). Despite the passage of several decades, I still have vivid memories of an exhibition on historic toys designed by Barbara Charles from the Eames office. It was fun, whimsical, and a visual feast in its use of color. Especially memorable, however, was the accompanying short film, Toccata for Toy Trains, originally produced in 1957 by the couple themselves (Ray was given top billing). Lushly colorful, particularly in the seductive use of reds, and with a musical score by renowned film composer Elmer Bernstein, the movie was shot from the intimate perspective of real toy trains (and not scale-model trains—a significant difference). It drew you completely into the world of toys, long before Pixar came on the scene.

S. Dillon Ripley, eighth Smithsonian Secretary (1964-1984), standing in the Secretary's Parlor in the Smithsonian Institution Building in front of the portrait of Joseph Henry, first Secretary of the Smithsonian (1846-1878). Image from Smithsonian Institution Archives.

But the Eameses’ relationship with the Smithsonian was even more fundamental. According to Benjamin Lawless, the longtime design head of the National Museum of History and Technology, Charles Eames was a favorite of then–Smithsonian Secretary S. Dillon Ripley. Ripley persuaded Eames to produce an hour-long film about the Institution, and, in the early 1970s, Eames in turn convinced Ripley to establish a film unit at the Smithsonian. The Eames office even sent an experienced staff member to the Smithsonian for a year to help get the unit off the ground. It became a pioneering museum film studio, known for such productions as the Emmy Award–winning film for the Smithsonian’s 1876 exhibit, designed by Bill Miner, another veteran of the Eames office.

Charles and Ray Eames and their associates brought color, motion, and life to Smithsonian exhibition halls, and helped museums in general become modern educational organizations. In all of their projects, color was a strategic tool; never did they apply hues indiscriminately. Rather, their brilliant palette spotlighted salient points of information that they wanted to convey, capturing both the eyes and minds of viewers.

To learn more about the Eameses’ style, you can visit the Eames house and studio in Los Angeles, a symphony of color and colorful objects that they collected or used in their varied projects. Their papers reside at the Library of Congress, which produced a lively online exhibit, The Work of Charles and Ray Eames: A Legacy of Invention. The accompanying catalog under the same title (Harry N. Abrams, 1997) includes insightful essays about their design philosophy and widespread influence.

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Technology’s Promise: The View from E42

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This post is a follow up to my earlier blog about the 1942 World’s Fair, “The Greatest Fair that Never Was.”

In modern society, technology is not only a tool but a potent symbol. I recently reflected on the display of invention and technology planned for the Esposizione Universale di Roma (EUR or, more commonly, E42), the 1942 World’s Fair that was to celebrate twenty years of Mussolini’s Fascist regime but never materialized because of World War II. I noted that the fair aimed to blend technological modernity with a revival of ancient Rome. This post follows up with further details from the E42 archives on how Fascist ideologues looked to the past to glorify their future, defining the expo’s major themes.

A submitted design for the Arco dell'Impero. Photo by Art Molella.

Among the most striking, though unbuilt, symbols of E42 was the Arco dell’Impero—the Imperial Arch—conceived as a gateway to the fair and its district (the present Roman suburb of EUR). The monumental structure signified the Roman triumphal arch, one of the most distinctive architectural forms of ancient Rome. Mirroring the arches of Constantine and Titus in the Roman Forum, this interpretation at EUR’s entrance was to be a 795-foot-tall engineering marvel. The call for proposals for the structure sparked the imaginations of inventors and architects throughout Italy. Here was a chance to showcase Italian civil engineering expertise and the virtues of such new construction materials as reinforced concrete, aluminum, and chromium steel.

Among the design submissions preserved in the E42 archives was the “invention,” by one Dr. Engr. Ettore Fenderl, of a matching underground arch that securely anchored the aboveground portion while doubling the space for visitors (the idea was rejected). Other plans called for four cog railways to move visitors around the massive arch, a bar, a restaurant, and even an amusement plaza featuring a parachute drop. The arch was also meant to symbolize peace and light. Plans called for it to be illuminated at night with diffuse electric lights or perhaps in neon, “like a great rainbow originating in Rome.” It was even suggested that the arch could be used for advertising, with a gigantic screen for light shows promoting corporate products.

The Piazza Marconi obelisk. Photo by Art Molella.

A less spectacular monument, but one actually built, was an obelisk dedicated to Guglielmo Marconi, the “father of radio.” Designed by Arturo Dazzi under Mussolini’s 1937 commission, but not completed until 1960, the obelisk stands today on EUR’s Piazza Marconi. The panels on one of its faces celebrate Marconi’s life, while other panels present traditional religious imagery. Its vertical thrust arguably suggests a radio antenna and modernity. At the same time, the obelisk is one of the most ancient of emblems. Moreover, this one is in the Ethiopian style (as my colleague Harry Rand pointed out to me), making it a clear reference to Rome’s 1,700-year old Obelisk of Axum that the Italian army looted from Ethiopia in 1937 (it was repatriated in 2005.) Addis Ababa was to be the capital of ll Duce’s revived Roman Empire, proclaimed in 1936. In fact, E42 was originally scheduled to open in 1941 to commemorate the fifth anniversary of the new Empire. A great deal of meaning was packed into this one ornately carved structure.

Courtesy of the New York Public Library.

The massive buildings surrounding the obelisk on Piazza Marconi exemplify Fascist rationalism, a futuristic interpretation of Roman classical architecture. As many have pointed out, EUR evokes the surrealistic paintings of the Italian futurist Giorgio de Chirico, who, along with others of his tradition, powerfully influenced modern art and architecture. Projected as the new Rome, EUR contains one of Italy’s greatest concentrations of Fascist-style buildings, a meeting ground of Ancients and Moderns.

Vinea model. Photo by Art Molella.

Another bridge to antiquity in E42 was the plan to incorporate a recent blockbuster archaeological exhibit on Roman civilization that had been organized by the Italian government in 1937 to celebrate the 2000th birthday of Caesar Augustus. With financing from FIAT, the exhibit eventually formed the core of the Museo della Civiltà Romana (Museum of Roman Civilization) that opened in 1955. The museum is known for its colorful, realistic models of Roman technology, including aqueducts, bridges, and such famous roads as the Appian Way. War technologies are heavily represented, with siege engines of various types, catapults, battering rams, and my favorite, the vinea, a movable shelter designed to protect Roman soldiers during assaults.

Model of Rome. Photo by Art Molella.

At the conclusion of the exhibit is a room-size, 1:250-scale model of the city of Rome in the age of Constantine. Depicting Rome at its maximum expansion, the model encompasses the urban area within the Aurelian Walls. In addition to its overview of Rome’s city plan, it includes exquisite replicas of the Colosseum, Circus Maximus, and other celebrated monuments. Begun in 1933 by a craftsman named Pierino Di Carlo, the model is itself a technical tour de force, consisting of some 150 irregularly shaped pieces that fit together along the roadways. The idea of encapsulating ancient Rome in a Fascist-style museum neatly sums up the strategy of E42.

As E42 was being planned, the New York World’s Fair opened in 1939, with its theme “Building the World of Tomorrow”; the Italian pavilion in fact was used to test some of the ideas for E42. Futurama, the New York fair’s memorable theme-ride sponsored by General Motors, depicted an American future characterized by automated highways and a vast network of expressways. E42’s Fascist planners also mapped a road—one that ran from the 4th century AD to the mid-20th century and beyond, in hopes of building the Appian Way to Modernity.

From Prototype, June 2012.

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The Greatest Fair that Never Was

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The extravagant "Arch of Empire."

I find displays of invention endlessly intriguing. This year marks the 70th anniversary of one of the most extravagant exhibitions that never happened. Yet I feel like I was there to see it. I can envision the colossal Arch of Empire, 790 feet in height, spanning 1,968 feet, illuminated like an iridescent rainbow—not Eero Saarinen’s Gateway Arch in St. Louis, but its even grander forerunner in Rome in 1942. Designed by Pier Luigi Nervi, Adelchi Cirella, and others to rival the Eiffel Tower, it was to serve as the grand entrance to Benito Mussolini’s ultimate World’s Fair.

The Esposizione Universale di Roma, scheduled to open in 1942 and dubbed E42, was to celebrate twenty years of Fascism and the revival of the Roman Empire. Under the direction of Marcello Piacentini, Mussolini’s chief architect, EUR, named with the initials of the exposition, was designed to be an ideal suburb, with showcase Fascist buildings and an elaborate system of lakes, parks, and gardens, extending Rome toward the sea, a long-cherished dream of Mussolini. Though E42 was canceled due to the War and the Arch existed only on paper, a vast body of records in the State Archives in Rome testifies to the grandiose visions of its Fascist planners, as does the Roman district of EUR that was conceived with the original plan and partially completed after the War.

The modern day State Archives

The fair’s inflated subtitle, “Olympiad of Civilization,” may have suggested international cooperation and harmony, but it hardly masked Il Duce’s real ambitions. Beneath the surface of E42 was an internal tension between the glories of ancient Rome, which Mussolini famously attempted to recapture, and his modern Fascist revolution, which he claimed would eclipse even the Caesars. The attempt to merge past, present, and future was a core dynamic of E42. Foremost on the Fair’s agenda was the patriotic display of science, technology, and invention. Fascist ideologues believed that Italy’s time had come, that it had a special advantage in its union of art, technology, and science. And, though it had not done much so far in the 20th century (too bad the great atomic physicist Enrico Fermi had gone to America to work on the Manhattan Project) historically speaking , it still had an unbeatable team with the likes of Leonardo, Galileo, and Marconi. According to E42′s planners, the Arch and the Fair would “be of vast proportions…of the highest Technical Italian Art…the grandest conception in the field of Technique and Mechanical Art.”

This ideology came to life for me last month during a research trip to the State Archives in Rome. To sample just a few of the documentary treasures, I perused plans for E42’s science and technology exhibits and for a Museum of Science that was to provide a permanent home for the artifacts once the Exposition closed; Leonardo was of course accorded hero status. Equally intriguing were engineering and design drawings as well as propaganda justifications for the Arch of Empire and other emblematic structures. The documents also exude other telling signs of the era, such as the constant litany of servile invocations of Mussolini’s name: “Mussolini has decreed it; Let it be done.”

The "Square Colosseum" at EUR

Heightening my sense of historical immediacy was the location of my research: the State Archives occupies one of the original iconic buildings of EUR, anchoring one end of the major axis of the district.  As I immersed myself in the records of E42, I could feel the ideological message in the overblown but faded grandeur of the building itself. And to drink in more of it, all I had to do was stroll the neighborhood. EUR is overrun with monumental, marble-cladded buildings in the Fascist style, such as the famed Palazzo della civiltà del lavoro (Palace of working culture), usually called the “Square Colosseum,” for its almost beautiful geometric rendition of Rome’s most famous monument. Not an unpleasant place, the EUR district is very much alive today, with the construction of new buildings, parks, and lakes somehow still “fulfilling” Mussolini’s dream of a futuristic green utopia.

However, in walking EUR, I also had a sense of déjà vu; I had seen this before, but from quite another perspective. If you are a fan of Italian art films as I am, you may remember EUR as one of the backdrops in Fellini’s La Dolce Vita (1960). You may also recall EUR from Antonioni’s Eclipse (1962), where it is virtually a character in itself, but of an ominous sort. Far from signifying utopia, it serves as a sterile symbol of post-war alienation and anxiety. It is a utopia gone sour. In one memorable scene, a fretful Monica Vitti appears in the shadow of a looming water tower, called Il Fungo, for its mushroom-like form, evoking either War of the Worlds aliens or, as some say, an atomic mushroom cloud, an especially scary image in the year of the Cuban Missile Crisis. ( Il Fungo, by the way, still exists, but now more benignly as a five-star roof top restaurant.)

Image of the planned building that now houses the State Archives.

These powerful films have created an unforgettable, yet one-dimensional image of EUR. In the archival records of E42 I glimpsed a more complex story illuminating the original vision, ideals, and ideologies behind the Exposition and the Roman district it spawned.

Stay tuned for more on E42 in the June edition of Prototype.

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