Word: brickes
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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After 6 two-person teams signed up, including a handful of non-Hollis residents, one of them games played off the rearwall of the four-story red-brick dorm...
Architect Benjamin Thompson has, to his credit, taken considerable pains to make Soldiers Field Park into the theoretically good building that it is. Here are some of the things about it that sound great: It is built of red brick, so as to blend harmoniously into the neighboring Business School. Its four buildings are of various heights, rising backward from the river to provide everyone with a view, and various shapes, so as not to seem too monotonous and regimented. There are a series of interior pedestrian plazas, studded with trees and benches, for people to walk it. There...
...actual fact, none of these things work the way they're supposed to. The building shapes that look so pleasing in schematic drawings in real life form a confusing jumble, one in which it's hard to tell where the order is. The red brick, while offset by inset balconies and windows, is still massive and intimidating. The pedestrian areas are claustrophobic, their trees in neat rows or sunk in cement, quite unlikely to be the site of casual gatherings. The river is nearby, but so is the noisy traffic on Soldiers Field Road, Western Ave. and the Mass Pike...
...people who are looking for anything approaching a sense of community--streets, sidewalks, neighborhoods, shopping areas, any kind of vibrance or variety--Soldiers Field Park is not the place. It's an isolated, pretty, impersonal pile of brick, not very conducive to interaction whether internally or with the outside world. The biggest of all the planners' misconceptions is the assumption that Harvard is attractive not because of the interplay among interesting people and things, but because it's fancy and red brick and has a nice view of the river...
Look. Two men jitterbug their drunk way down Lansdowne Street, shreiking and twirling and smashing into hard brick walls. Their noise intrudes in this damp, silent alley; the warehouses know no human sound or stink from five p.m. to nine in the morning. The men wail deep and coo softly, as if speaking through thin silk stockings...