It’s Saturday morning, 70 degrees with white-gray overcast skies as we come through the retail shopping and busy-bodies of the city to the northernmost corner of Bryant Park. The arching sycamores cause us to stop and ready our cameras. We cross the Avenue of the Americas into the raised park and immediately note the exquisite detail of the lamp posts complementing the ornament of foliage in this urban oasis. The air, too, has a cleaner inhale. The walkways within the park are just as crowded as the nearby sidewalks; but the pace is relaxed. The refreshing site of ground cover emits a scent from the morning dew that has yet to burn off in this muggy morning air. The greenery is accompanied by benches, tables and chairs and paving of all types: gravel, granite, brick and cobblestone. Two very intense games of bocce ball entertain our views to the right, while children to our left hurry to the sandwich stand, presumably for refreshment and snack. We spin to take photographs in all directions and angles, and finally place our cameras aside and settle our own pace to match the environment.
The lawn that carpets the central area is overly luxurious and unfortunately closed due to the recent rain. Circling around we witness people of all walks, ages, and races enjoying this place in so many different ways; some active, some passive, couples romantic, individuals read books or papers; a student with nose in a text book and even a few folks entertaining friends with guitar and song. Though each experiences this space in a uniquely individual and different way, they are all together, all social, each adding to the combined city life they have chosen to share. I know no one here but my few friends, yet these strangers and I have an immediate connection simply by entering into this open, public and very beautiful space.
Experiencing this scene begs the questions: Could we truly enjoy this space without the urban fabric (and even the concrete hardness) of the adjacent city streets? Would this park be in a suburban development, in the middle of a shopping center, or as a focus of a complex of garden apartment (all areas that have tried), I believe it would fail to amount to a fraction of its worth or use.
If we take this assumption to be true (that is, the success and sustainability of a park needs a certain adjacent make-up and context) then what lessons can we take from Bryant Park as we try to create places with as much livelihood. I would argue that Bryant Park’s interior design is only a small part of how we should judge it. Thus in our new parks, I recommend we re-focus our attention on their contextual surroundings and less so on their interior environs. In my opinion, Bryant Park’s success as an active park and a “breath of fresh air” is due to factors external to the park. Adjacent streets are solid concrete and asphalt. Twenty foot wide sidewalks with a rare occasion of street trees. Buildings of all shapes and sizes hold a hard edge to create a room roughly 100 feet wide; though limitless in ceiling. One often passes without noticing much above twelve or fifteen feet; with storefronts and people-watching capturing most of our attention. The neighboring density is astounding (and admirable)…and achievable in other places. This, in large part, gives Bryant Park its livelihood. The mixture, and simply the amount, of people in close proximity guarantee the park’s success and sustainability.
With the exception of 41st, streets do not terminate into Bryant Park, as if a destination for vehicles. Rather they skirt the park’s boundaries as if the square simply brushes off the busy city traffic. The immediate context of the park is of significant note. A vibrant and amazing mixture of every imaginable building use: Civic, hotel, retail, restaurants, offices, residences, even a church and schools. The architecture is as varied as the park’s occupants. Sleek, tall glass-clad steel high rises make neighbors with solid masonry skyscrapers with more traditional punched openings. The deep brown brick and gold adornment of the American Radiator Building (now the Bryant Park Hotel) shoots skyward on the southern side of the park. These buildings’ form and function enliven the city square more so than their architecture, with one exception: the building in the square: The New York Public Library.
This limestone-clad, classical beauty sits perfectly in its perch overlooking its park. It stands appropriately scaled and designed for its function and for its civic nature. Its solidity presents a necessary contrast to the transparency of the park and its trees. The building, too, is instantly recognizable as Library, even from its “rear”. (Architects: take note.) The park and building work together in harmony. Walkways draw pedestrians to prominent bays and the rhythm of the center reflects the open lawn that it watches over. The park design draws from the building elements, and vice-versa. This mutual partnership and cooperation between park and building let us know that they belong to each other and, through their civic nature, that they belong to us.
Sycamores, with high arching branches, and in beds of low-maintenance ground cover, flank wide walkways populated with tables and chairs. This moment gives us our first experience of a ceiling within the otherwise cavernous city. The parks size accommodates many types of experiences which are spread throughout its acreage. The active bocce courts to the north are complemented by a small sandwich shop. Bryant Park Café on the south end draws pedestrians across passive areas and between the parks’ extremities.
We leave through the opposite end we entered. Our walk that turned stroll began to illustrate the endless reasons of the park’s importance and enlightened us with a few lessons of how we might be able to once again achieve creating such wonderful spaces. Our journey back to the concrete streets of the city would mean so much less had we not entered and engaged this refuge.
