It’s been said for several months that the new Staten Island Ferry has been complete, but it hardly looks that way. When the ‘official’ announcement occurred the sign wasn’t even finished. Now, at least that much as has been done, but visiting it still leaves you with a sense of incompleteness, not the least of which is due to the massive construction site it sits atop (much of which is unrelated).
The history of the new terminal building is somewhat sordid. The original terminal was badly damaged by fire in 1991. A competition was held soliciting new designs. The winning firm, Philadelphia’s VSBA (Venturi Scott Brown Associates), suggested a massive, not entirely cartoony (by their standards) clock face, a gesture not without precedent. Push back from Staten Island Borough President Guy Molinari forced a redesign, which was also rejected, leading to VBSA’s resignation, with the work subsequently awarded to the associate on VSBA’s bid, Fred Schwartz.
After a some tribulations involving sub-contractor chicanery and whatever else befalls a public sector project, over a decade later, the building is close to done. Figuring the last touches (including the tie into the South Ferry station) would take another year or two, and hearing that the other side was as about as done, I decided to spend a recent Saturday on the Ferry, and some time wandering the terminals.
I’ve always been a fan of the Ferry. It’s free, the views are great, and like any quality public transit, alcohol is served. The ramshackle condition of the terminal wasn’t entirely frustrating, given the sorry state of so much of our various transit systems. Like I said, it’s free, and there’s beer.
And now there’s a big shiny mound of glass parked in front of it. I say in front, because it’s hard to discern if any changes were made to the slips proper, and the immediate circulation areas are nondescript enough that change wouldn’t be evident. If there is a unifying order, it is not readily apparent. There is an attempt to create a node at the entry, where the three slips funnel into a hub — the radius clearly evident at the entrance, with its concave signage. This could be read in reverse — the building radiating from that point — but I’ve always thought the slips were the focus of the building, so I relate from that point back.
Given the most travelers will pass through both sides of the node, a compression and expansion will be the effect. But it’s an effect that only occurs to someone watching for it — an actual compression would compromise circulation. So it ends up feeling like a half effort, and weakly delineated.
The other gesture is a thrusting upward of the main lobby (and attendant entry hall) as it travels towards the aforementioned hub. This creates a strange polygon that doesn’t resolve visually into a regular space, regardless of your approach. Seen from above, it is apparent that a symmetrical solution was not possible, and, given the difficulties of the site (very little site work was allowed for the foundation due to the presence of the South Ferry station beneath), simply placing the form was a considered challenge. The interior layout — a fairly straightforward entry stair flanked by two ancillary stairs that follow the building edge as it splays toward the slips, all of it ending at the entry hall — tries to hard to assert that it could be a regular and symmetrical figure, but ends only seeming to splay in too many directions at once.
The entire site is awash in construction still, so perhaps when it is completed (my best guess will be post-2006, based on the South Ferry information) it won’t seem ungainly, but for now it looks like giant, irregular barge has been beached in Battery Park. Part of this is due to the intrusion — I’m still a little surprised when I see it — and part is due what I think was an intention to make the entire form hover, with a pass through drive below, resting on the ground only at the entry hub. With the visual clutter of construction, it’s hard to tell. But, it also seems that such a plan may have been a good intention, but there will still be plenty of competing visual activity (another terminal building, some unfortunate support facilities, the park, and what looks to be a snarl of driveways) at the most finished state, and it’s questionable if this form is commanding enough to organize site, or simply an awkward participant.
The inside is even less distinguished, with a series of discrete decisions not that impressive on their own, and never cohering into a pleasing whole. Small exceptions, such as the Exit signage, don’t offset the jumble throughout. Functionally, the space works just fine, but there is nothing that cleverly addresses the queuing habits of riders, which is to mill about the gate awaiting the next ferry. Any sort of crowd control would have been intrusive and foolhardy — a big open space is certainly the most efficient way to move bodies — but given how essential the process is, with people packing in slowly but surely as the ferry docks and departing passengers flooding out exit hall, some sort of response would have been a pleasant diversion.
The one attempt at a unifying element — and mostly likely the significant remnant of VBSA involvement — is the band of signage the wraps inconsistently around the terminal. A band running around the interior partitions (clearly visible through the outer sheathing of glass) is a quote from Edna St. Vincent Millay (here’s a good chance to attack my poor note taking — I’m not quite sure on this point). In the main terminal space, this same band is repeated both as wayfinding signage, as well as electronic sign boards.
Oversize signage is fine, except the nomenclature is inconsistent (telephones are phone, a water fountain is H20 — apparently because spelling it out would leave the end of the sign in the real water just out the window), and the uneven perimeter makes it surprising user unfriendly. The electronic signs are worse, since they present information randomly, with color changes that are arbitrary (that is, the exit direction isn’t only red, and the gates only green, etc.), and they fail to do the one thing such an overt gesture should: announce where the next ferry arrives. Surely the gaggle of people that collect in front of the correct gate serves the same purpose, but given the lineage of the signs in VSBA’s out-scaled postmodernism, having a giant ‘Next Ferry Here’ declaration would have been nice. Given the work of firms such as 2×4 in developing compelling and effective signage, this is a missed opportunity.
Some details work well — the Exit signage is clever, the benches are quite nice, given the usual annoyance of interruptions to make them sleeper proof. One the water side, the short awning that juts out over each slip is edged in the same ungainly orange of the ferry boats (a color used to make them stand out in the fog). Some fail badly, such as the persistence of what appears to be temporary fencing and barriers used for crowd control in the interstitial entrance/exit areas. Though this may have nothing to so with Schwartz, seeing a weather-beaten portable wood gate is jarring and draws undue attention.
The history of this project is one of missed opportunities (one competition entry, from Aldo Rossi, was particularly elegant — one suspects VBSA was picked because they were rooting for the home team on the jury). And, at their worst, the glittering behemoths being constructed for Fulton Street and the WTC PATH Station will overwhelm what, as a matter of siting, was one of the most exciting opportunities for a freestanding structure in Manhattan in some time. It won’t make anyone cringe, but nor does it resonate with the songs of sirens, as the sea is purported to do. Of course, this particular sea is only taking one to Staten Island, s
o maybe this is proportional. And once one gets to the other side, well, it’s more disappointment. More on that later. . .
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A Tale of Two Ferry (Terminals), Part One: South Ferry.
It’s been said for several months that the new Staten Island Ferry has been complete, but it hardly looks that way. When the ‘official’ announcement occurred the sign wasn’t even finished. Now, at least that much as has been done, but visiting it still leaves you with a sense of incompleteness, not the least of which is due to the massive construction site it sits atop (much of which is unrelated).
The history of the new terminal building is somewhat sordid. The original terminal was badly damaged by fire in 1991. A competition was held soliciting new designs. The winning firm, Philadelphia’s VSBA (Venturi Scott Brown Associates), suggested a massive, not entirely cartoony (by their standards) clock face, a gesture not without precedent. Push back from Staten Island Borough President Guy Molinari forced a redesign, which was also rejected, leading to VBSA’s resignation, with the work subsequently awarded to the associate on VSBA’s bid, Fred Schwartz. After a some tribulations involving sub-contractor chicanery and whatever else befalls a public sector project, over a decade later, the building is close to done. Figuring the last touches (including the tie into the South Ferry station) would take another year or two, and hearing that the other side was as about as done, I decided to spend a recent Saturday on the Ferry, and some time wandering the terminals. I’ve always been a fan of the Ferry. It’s free, the views are great, and like any quality public transit, alcohol is served. The ramshackle condition of the terminal wasn’t entirely frustrating, given the sorry state of so much of our various transit systems. Like I said, it’s free, and there’s beer. And now there’s a big shiny mound of glass parked in front of it. I say in front, because it’s hard to discern if any changes were made to the slips proper, and the immediate circulation areas are nondescript enough that change wouldn’t be evident. If there is a unifying order, it is not readily apparent. There is an attempt to create a node at the entry, where the three slips funnel into a hub — the radius clearly evident at the entrance, with its concave signage. This could be read in reverse — the building radiating from that point — but I’ve always thought the slips were the focus of the building, so I relate from that point back. Given the most travelers will pass through both sides of the node, a compression and expansion will be the effect. But it’s an effect that only occurs to someone watching for it — an actual compression would compromise circulation. So it ends up feeling like a half effort, and weakly delineated. The other gesture is a thrusting upward of the main lobby (and attendant entry hall) as it travels towards the aforementioned hub. This creates a strange polygon that doesn’t resolve visually into a regular space, regardless of your approach. Seen from above, it is apparent that a symmetrical solution was not possible, and, given the difficulties of the site (very little site work was allowed for the foundation due to the presence of the South Ferry station beneath), simply placing the form was a considered challenge. The interior layout — a fairly straightforward entry stair flanked by two ancillary stairs that follow the building edge as it splays toward the slips, all of it ending at the entry hall — tries to hard to assert that it could be a regular and symmetrical figure, but ends only seeming to splay in too many directions at once. The entire site is awash in construction still, so perhaps when it is completed (my best guess will be post-2006, based on the South Ferry information) it won’t seem ungainly, but for now it looks like giant, irregular barge has been beached in Battery Park. Part of this is due to the intrusion — I’m still a little surprised when I see it — and part is due what I think was an intention to make the entire form hover, with a pass through drive below, resting on the ground only at the entry hub. With the visual clutter of construction, it’s hard to tell. But, it also seems that such a plan may have been a good intention, but there will still be plenty of competing visual activity (another terminal building, some unfortunate support facilities, the park, and what looks to be a snarl of driveways) at the most finished state, and it’s questionable if this form is commanding enough to organize site, or simply an awkward participant. The inside is even less distinguished, with a series of discrete decisions not that impressive on their own, and never cohering into a pleasing whole. Small exceptions, such as the Exit signage, don’t offset the jumble throughout. Functionally, the space works just fine, but there is nothing that cleverly addresses the queuing habits of riders, which is to mill about the gate awaiting the next ferry. Any sort of crowd control would have been intrusive and foolhardy — a big open space is certainly the most efficient way to move bodies — but given how essential the process is, with people packing in slowly but surely as the ferry docks and departing passengers flooding out exit hall, some sort of response would have been a pleasant diversion. The one attempt at a unifying element — and mostly likely the significant remnant of VBSA involvement — is the band of signage the wraps inconsistently around the terminal. A band running around the interior partitions (clearly visible through the outer sheathing of glass) is a quote from Edna St. Vincent Millay (here’s a good chance to attack my poor note taking — I’m not quite sure on this point). In the main terminal space, this same band is repeated both as wayfinding signage, as well as electronic sign boards. Oversize signage is fine, except the nomenclature is inconsistent (telephones are phone, a water fountain is H20 — apparently because spelling it out would leave the end of the sign in the real water just out the window), and the uneven perimeter makes it surprising user unfriendly. The electronic signs are worse, since they present information randomly, with color changes that are arbitrary (that is, the exit direction isn’t only red, and the gates only green, etc.), and they fail to do the one thing such an overt gesture should: announce where the next ferry arrives. Surely the gaggle of people that collect in front of the correct gate serves the same purpose, but given the lineage of the signs in VSBA’s out-scaled postmodernism, having a giant ‘Next Ferry Here’ declaration would have been nice. Given the work of firms such as 2×4 in developing compelling and effective signage, this is a missed opportunity. Some details work well — the Exit signage is clever, the benches are quite nice, given the usual annoyance of interruptions to make them sleeper proof. One the water side, the short awning that juts out over each slip is edged in the same ungainly orange of the ferry boats (a color used to make them stand out in the fog). Some fail badly, such as the persistence of what appears to be temporary fencing and barriers used for crowd control in the interstitial entrance/exit areas. Though this may have nothing to so with Schwartz, seeing a weather-beaten portable wood gate is jarring and draws undue attention. The history of this project is one of missed opportunities (one competition entry, from Aldo Rossi, was particularly elegant — one suspects VBSA was picked because they were rooting for the home team on the jury). And, at their worst, the glittering behemoths being constructed for Fulton Street and the WTC PATH Station will overwhelm what, as a matter of siting, was one of the most exciting opportunities for a freestanding structure in Manhattan in some time. It won’t make anyone cringe, but nor does it resonate with the songs of sirens, as the sea is purported to do. Of course, this particular sea is only taking one to Staten Island, so maybe this is proportional. And once one gets to the other side, well, it’s more disappointment. More on that later. . .