the accessibility the accessibility

What does accessibility mean?

At its most basic definition, accessibility is the availability of something—a place, service, or product—to a person or group of people. If you can reap the benefits of anything easily, then it is accessible. If the benefits are not easily attainable, then by definition it is still mildly accessible, despite the burden that you must encounter to achieve it. If you cannot reach it, then you must simply go on lacking the resource.

The people of Saint Louis are dealing with a lack of accessibility to resources of all kinds. Yes, entertainment value such as the ballpark still lies in city limits, but so many other essentials—retail stores, grocery stores, and education, to name a few—can only be reached by those who have the money, the means, and the time to Metro, drive, and live out where the resources are. In the last ISSUE, we discussed the massive vacancy problem that Saint Louis has today as a result of suburban practices from fifty years prior. In this one, we look at all of the resources that left with those who could access the suburban lifestyle and its amenities—quick access to food sources, a great education system, and peace of mind for getting away from the undesirable people of the city.

A big trend that has come up in the news lately has been that Americans, for the first time in years, are moving back into cities. Although Saint Louis is experiencing this trend to a lesser extent, the progress is visible. New development trends are focusing on the needs of the person, not the automobile. By way of our now twenty-year-old public transit system and the rising anti-automobile culture, suburban towns and cities alike are shifting towards making their resources more accessible. The eyes of the metropolitan area have now turned inward, waiting to see the next exciting moves that the city will make in its future.

To be sure, Rust Belt cities like St. Louis have a long way to go, but a wealth of progress starts with taking the first step.

Michael Savala,Editor-in-Chief

Dear Readers...

This is the fourth edition of ISSUES Magazine, for Fall 2013Cover illustration by Laken Sylvander

The Alberti Program contributors, Isaiah Jones and Antwine Willis, are students from the Alberti Program, an Saturday class for grade school students at Washington University.

ISSUES Magazine is sponsored by Washington University Student Union.1

In this ISSUE...

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Vacancy UpdateSt. Louis’ Sustainable Land Lab Competition

The New Residences of Sarah StreetInnovations in Access and Affordability in St. Louis Public Housing

The Alberti ProgramOne Solution to the State of Inner-City Education

Seeking Educational OpportunityAccessibility and the Transfer Law

The Death and Life of a Gentrified NeighborhoodThe Delmar DivideLocked OutGated Communities and Private Streets

Economic BarriersThe Classical Music Experience in St. Louis

Turning the TideThe Beginning of the End for the Automobile

Breaking the Cycle in St. LouisHeat AccessibilityStaying Warm Without a Home

The Public Art DialogueA Contextualized Look at the New Moto Museum Mural by Re+Public and MOMO

An Olympic Games for Whom?

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Leora BaumAnna DarlingMargaret Flatley Isaiah Jones of Alberti Reagan Lauder Libby PeroldDaniel RaggsMichael SavalaStephanie SilvaLaken Sylvander

CONTRIBUTORS

Greg HarrisonClaire HuttenlockerNichole MurphyReagan LauderLibby Perold Carrick Reddin Douglas Rogerson Michael Savala Andrew Scheinman

Writers Illustrators and PhotographersTori Sgarro Stephanie Silva Elaine StokesKeaton WetzelAntwine Willis of Alberti

Vacancy Update St. Louis’ Sustainable Land Lab Competition

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The Spring 2013 edition of ISSUES explored the consequences of vacant land in St. Louis. ISSUES writers discovered that although abandoned properties detract from the aesthetics of a neighborhood, they also present opportunities for community revitalization. Shortly after the publication of that issue, the winners of St. Louis’s first Sustainable Land Lab Competition embraced this opportunity to improve the city’s urban landscape, yielding unexpected results. The Sustainable Land Lab Competition began last year, when the City of St. Louis partnered with Washington University to organize a contest for innovative solutions to the city’s vacancy issue. Recently, city governments across the country have used this tactic to bring residents into the conversation about urban renewal. This is because city-wide competitions engage students, businesses and other locals who ordinarily would not participate in community building, and provide contest winners with the means to positively change their neighborhoods. St. Louis witnessed the benefits of this approach almost immediately, when 48 teams entered the Sustainable Land Lab competition in November 2012. With so many teams contributing ideas, the contest succeeded before it even began by stimulating community members to consider the city’s vacancy problem in new ways. Although the city cannot feasibly fund all 48 solutions, the contest spurred a new or strengthened interest in urban renewal among contestants and produced detailed plans for improving the city’s vacant lots. Of the 48 teams who entered the competition, four were selected in April 2013 to receive $5,000 and a two-year lease of a vacant lot in Old North St. Louis. The winning ideas proposed using the abandoned North St. Louis properties for a demonstration of Native American agriculture, a community chess park, a restaurant and urban farming center, and a sunflower field. While these four projects emerged victorious in the competition, the real challenge arose in the actual implementation of their ideas. This year’s winners began to carry out their plans after gaining access to their lots and funding in May 2013. The journey of the Sunflower+ Project accurately illustrates both the successes and setbacks the winners faced in reclaiming

their vacant lots. The Sunflower+ Project is headed by Don Koster, a senior lecturer at Washington University and practicing architect of his own architectural firm. Koster’s winning plan involved planting sunflowers, which are known to absorb industrial chemicals from the ground, to improve his lot’s soil quality so that the property could be redeveloped in the future. However, after receiving the two-year lease, his team discovered that their assigned lot is actually free of harmful chemicals and contamination, thus undermining an important feature of their original plan. Nevertheless, the lot’s unexpected soil quality has allowed the project to flourish in other, unforeseen respects. Because the land is uncontaminated, children and other community members can walk onto the site and directly appreciate the sunflowers. This simple interactive experience has fostered unity and pride among the community in the area. Although the project could not fulfill its original intention, it produced some unanticipated positive results. St. Louis still plans to decontaminate other vacant lots throughout the city following the Sunflower+ Project’s original idea. The Sunflower+ Project’s development reveals many truths about renewal efforts in St. Louis and throughout the country. For instance, urban revitalization projects often face logistical obstacles in planning and coordination. But more importantly, the success of the Sunflower+ Project shows that these projects do not have to be expensive or elaborate to make a significant difference. An act as simple as planting sunflowers in an empty lot can bring a community together in unexpected ways. Having already experienced the many benefits of the Sustainable Land Lab Competition, St. Louis hopes to continue and expand its industrial revitalization by replicating the winners’ ideas in other vacant lots across the city. The city plans to find even more practical solutions to the vacancy problem in subsequent competitions. Written by Victoria SgarroIllustration by Daniel Raggs

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The New Residences of Sarah StreetInnovations in Access and Affordability in St. Louis Public Housing

Any Wash U student familiar with St. Louis’s complex and often tragic history with public housing would be

surprised to learn that our downtown boasts the headquarters of one of America’s most successful and progressive public housing developers. McCormack Baron Salazar (MBS) was cofounded by Richard Baron, who became intimately familiar with the struggles of St. Louis public housing when he served as general counsel for the ACLU of Eastern Missouri and as an attorney for the Tenant Affairs Board of St. Louis, where he represented public housing tenants during rent strikes in the late 1960s. Mr. Baron’s company has since built 160 public housing projects across America, incorporating inventive features of mixed-income, mixed-use, and accessible design that have vastly improved the standard of living and job prospects of residents. Randy Rhoads, MBS’s Vice President of Design and Construction, and one of the company’s lead architects, led the ISSUES team through two of the company’s developments, 6 North and North Sarah, which best embody the company’s creative approach to connected and stigma-free public housing. 6 North’s intricate brick craftwork and context-

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sensitive industrial design elements do not reveal to the casual passerby that the building is the first mixed-income public housing project in America to incorporate universal design (also known as better living design) elements in every one of its units. The 80 high-end loft-style one and two bedroom apartments in the building at the corner of Laclede Avenue and North Sarah Street are occupied by tenants who may or may not be paying the market-rate of their units. Only 40-70% of 6 North residents pay the actual value of their apartments, the rest are welfare recipients. This mixed income quality removes the stigma that is often attached to public housing residents, since it is unknown which of the identical units exactly are being occupied by residents whose rent is being subsidized by the government. The stigma-free design elements of the building continue to its degree of handicap accessibility. No unit is deemed “handicap accessible” because, by design, they all are. During our tour, Mr. Rhoads pointed out how every single amenity of the complex can be accessed by a person no matter their physical, visual, or auditory impairment. Some of the universal design features at 6 North include 3’ wide doorways and sloping hallways to allow wheelchairs to pass

6 North, at the corner of N. Sarah Street and Laclede Ave

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through; paddle-style light switches that do not require a strong grip to operate; carpeting patterns that change colors at apartment doorways to indicate entryways to the visually-impaired; kitchen countertops that can raise and lower to better accommodate a person’s height; and under-sink space that allows a wheelchair to roll in. Subtle design elements like full length mirrors, raised dishwashers, and large closets that can fit a person with a wheelchair or walker further improve the quality of life of residents who may or may not be physically challenged. Other amenities include a community room and a fitness center with exercise machines that can be used by the physically challenged. Live-work units that front the street are combination storefronts and studio apartments that enable the development to embrace the streetscape; sliding walls separate a living space from the tenant’s in-home business. North Sarah, the other site that ISSUES visited on its tour, is 6 North on a grander scale. Located about a mile north of 6 North on Sarah St, the development is a complex of buildings rather than a single building. There is the palpable sense that MBS is returning the neighborhood, once called Sarah & Finney (part of the larger Ville neighborhood), to its former economic and cultural importance. We met Fred Christian, the owner and resident of one of the live/work units in North Sarah who was finishing up construction on the dry cleaning company he was founding in the front room of his home. A lifelong resident of the Ville, Mr. Christian told the ISSUES team all about what life was like in this area when it was the center of African-American life in the city of St. Louis; the birthplace of Chuck Berry, Tina Turner, and Arthur Ashe. He senses that MBS is bringing real change to the area which had become characterized by garbage-strewn lots and crime. A grocery store, still under construction, will bring fresh produce to this area of St. Louis largely considered to be a food desert; and solar panels and other sustainable infrastructure will lower the living costs of all residents. Its units, about 25% of which are market-rate, feature many elements of universal design too.

Accessible in its physical design, economic opportunity, and access to transit (a new Metrolink station is planned to be built on Sarah Street within the next couple of years), McCormack Baron Salazar’s 6 North and North Sarah developments offer a replicable and successful model for universal design elements in any residential and commercial setting, including public housing. In 6 North, McCormack Baron Salazar leased all 80 apartments within eight months from completion, and North Sarah remains 100% occupied with a long waiting list of interested tenants of all ages, physical capabilities, and incomes.

Context sensitive design in North Sarah returns the Sarah & Finney Neighborhood to its former density

Adjustable countertops help make 6 North accessible to a person of any height and capability.

Written by Keaton WetzelPhotographed by Stephanie Silva

THE PROBLEM

As of 2013, the United States ranks as the 17th best education system in the world according to Pearson’s annual education survey, falling behind Finland (1st), South Korea (2nd), China (3rd), and Japan (4th).

Within the United States, Missouri sits at rank 41 out of the 50 states and Washington, D.C.1

Zooming in even more, the St. Louis City school district ranks in the 20th percentile for math and 22nd percentile for reading in comparison to all of the school districts in the state of Missouri. This means that on average, students living in St. Louis City are being outperformed by 78-80% of their peers living in the county or other areas of the state.2

Placing all of these statistics in relation to one another puts St. Louis City public schools pretty low on the totem pole of education. With a majority of low-income residents concentrated within the city limits, income taxes generate very little revenue for the city. Furthermore, the decision made in 1876 to separate St. Louis City from St. Louis County prevented funds from the county to be transferred to the city, and this division is still in place today. As a result, the wealth stays in the suburbs of St. Louis, where students have an abundance of academically engaging schools to choose from, while students in St. Louis are presented with a selection of underachieving schools. Although a handful of private, magnet, and charter schools provide alternatives to the St. Louis public school system, only a select number of children have the chance to attend these institutions. The rest are left at schools where teachers have too much work to do for too little pay. When looking at this structure, it is easy to see how students can slip through the cracks.

A SOLUTION

The public education system in St. Louis is in desperate need of additional attention and funding. However, the necessary changes will take time, and students need support now. Fortunately, other networks are forming to provide students with the chance to discover their passions and test out their interests. The ALBERTI program, coordinated by Gay

One Solution to the State of Inner-City EducationWritten by ELAINE STOKES

Lorberbaum and funded by the Sam Fox School of Design, is doing just that. Every Saturday during the school year, students from St. Louis City schools ranging from 3rd to 12th grade gather at Givens Hall and jump into an architectural design project, assisted by a group of Washington University students. The program also operates as a design camp during the month of June. Through these projects, students have the chance to work with their hands and test out their creativity in a supportive environment. The individuals who attend have an expressed interest in design, and thus they get to spend time surrounded by other students who are also excited to learn and create. While ALBERTI obviously cannot accommodate all the students in St. Louis and only targets students interested in design, the program still provides a model for an extracurricular activity that expands the knowledge and awareness of the students who participate.

THE PRODUCT

I worked as an ALBERTI teacher this past summer and witnessed the way an environment like this can transform a student. Antwine started ALBERTI for the first time this summer. Although he knew very few of the other students on the first day, he quickly became a role model for other students due to his upbeat, outgoing attitude and his dedication to his projects. Isaiah started ALBERTI working solely on architectural design, but as soon as he was handed a pen and sketchbook, he immediately began producing rich, vivid drawings like I’ve never seen by someone of his age. I could write on and on about the creativity that emerged out of ALBERTI this summer, but instead I think the work should speak for itself.

The following is an article and illustrations produced by these ALBERTI students.

1 http://www.edweek.org/ew/qc/2012/16src.h31.html2 http://globalreportcard.org

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Every Saturday morning my little sister Mekhiya and I would get up a 8:30 am to go to construction camp with Mr. Frank and Mrs. Gay. There we build full-scale architecture; so for example last summer we built a desk and chairs, but usually we build stuff for other people like when we built headboards for a homeless lady and children group. We built chairs for a pre-school and much more. We use power tools to cut the wood and then we paint them and decorate our product. Then they are ready to send off. We design and have talks about how to make our product efficient. We do Google Sketch 3-D to see our green house. The name of this program is called Building Futures. We have volunteers from Washington University like Howard, and Deepti. Some of the power tools we use are jigsaws, table saws, drills, sanders, and many more. Just recently me and my little sister was on the radio 88.1 KDHX We were talking about Building Futures and why we like it. The only part I don’t like is the waking up really early. But I can’t complain because my family and I wake up at 5:00 AM. And then the best teacher Mrs. Gay invited me and my little sister to Alberti.

Alberti is a program held at Givens Hall at Wash U. We don’t build full-scale; instead, we just design. But its fun to have lectures with landscaping architects. And we learn about all their different projects. And a lecture that the teachers recently did was about their favorite architects. One of my favorites is Frank lloyd Wright. He made the building Fallingwater. He made me want to think about becoming an architect. But I think I’ll stick with becoming a doctor. Something that most people don’t know is my dad was an architect and he had a workshop. Well he was like an architect/mechanic. He loved to work on cars and build stuff. He also loved science. He died 2 years ago. Then the school that I want to go to for college is Wash U. So I can become a doctor. I don’t know what kind yet but I do.

The Alberti ProgramWritten by ANTWINE WILLISIllustrated by ISAIAH JONES

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Seeking Educational

During my time here in St. Louis, I have overheard students and families from the area joke about how much you can deduce about a person simply by the school they attended in the city or county. The education system in St. Louis is both decisive and divisive. Attending a high quality school opens doors to better careers and higher income, while attending a lower performing school creates barriers that are almost impossible to overcome. Current schooling concerns in St. Louis, which involve transfers and poor finances, stand as a microcosm of national education problems. The challenges faced by the urban education system in St. Louis became glaringly obvious this past summer when the Missouri Supreme Court affirmed the right of students to transfer out of unaccredited school districts to adjoining accredited districts in order to seek better educational opportunities and resources. This decision triggered a logistical nightmare: almost 2,600 students from the unaccredited Normandy and Riverview Gardens districts fled from their local schools. Both of these districts are located in North St. Louis, the region of St. Louis with the lowest income. Analyzing this social issue in the context of accessibility, we must look at the extent to which this statute actually opens doors to students in struggling districts, and we must understand the financial consequences of the Transfer Law on failing districts, which are forced to pay tuition and transportation for transfer students. This is not just about the opportunity for students to attend a higher performing school or even the accessibility of school bus transportation. This debate penetrates deeper into economic and social mobility, confronting a challenge that has faced urban education systems for centuries. This situation has exposed the longstanding stratification of socioeconomic groups and the stark geographical, racial, and economic divides between St. Louis neighborhoods. The statute that created the Transfer Law is inordiinately vague, and was originally incorporated in 1993 to spur improvement in the underperforming districts; it was intended as a threat to avoid invoking the measure at all. However, once a district becomes unaccredited, it is forced to pay millions of dollars in tuition and transportation for the

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transferring students, significantly weakening their own budget for the few remaining students and effectively preventing any improvement. Now that the statute has been put to the test, and Normandy and Riverview Gardens have failed to gain accreditation, supervisors and school boards have been overwhelmed with staffing concerns, budget cuts, and revised bus routes that force transfer students to ride one hour twice a day to their new school. Some neighborhoods were denied access to certain schools altogether because the local district could not afford to send buses. The level of social access to education in light of the Transfer Law is defined by the way new students are integrated into the receiving school districts. Socioeconomic and racial tensions arise in these situations. Some parents in the receiving districts have expressed concerns about discipline problems with the new students, and about the likelihood that incoming students will slow down the learning process in the classroom. Students from low-performing and low-income areas have to adjust to a completely new environment with different social norms and expectations. Therefore even though they have gained access to better education, students may still face socioeconomic barriers to acceptance and success.

The truth of the matter is that our urban education system requires substantial reform, otherwise districts will continue to inevitably fail and the broader community will suffer. The Normandy School District is projected to run out of funds this upcoming March, and while the State School Board has discussed

aiding the district financially, simply adding funding after districts have fallen under the Transfer Law is not enough. Solutions addressing fund management and quality of educational programs and tutoring must be implemented. We have to consider different perspectives about this transfer dilemma. Is this law really about pursuing justice and equality, allowing lower income families to strive for better futures, unhampered by underperforming districts that limit students’ potential? And how does the notion of justice and equality play out for the students remaining in the failing district? Students have a right to pursue quality education, but even though the Transfer Law allows students to access better education, it is a Band-Aid solution that very clearly avoids addressing the core problems of reforming urban education and bridging the socioeconomic divide.

Written by Claire HuttenlocherPhotographed by Libby Perold

Crouch, Elisa. “School Transfer Issue Spawns Logistical Headaches and Legal Questions,” Stltoday.com.

This is not just about the opportunity for students to attend a higher performing school or even the accessibility of school bus transportation. This debate penetrates deeper into economic and social mobility, confronting a challenge that has faced urban education systems for centuries.

OpportunityAccessibility and the Transfer Law

Sometimes a neighborhood is just too cool; that is, so many people want to be there that competition excludes people. Housing prices skyrocket as young urban professionals follow the hip crowd to their homes, willing to pay considerably more for what is now considered prime real estate than can the diverse and creative population that composed the scene. Perhaps the best and most renowned version of the story exists within New York’s Greenwich Village. From the late nineteenth into the twentieth century, the Village was the epicenter of new political, artistic, and cultural change—an enclave of avant-garde and alternative culture. Countless household names in poetry, art, music, and every other creative discipline—as diverse as Bob Dylan, Henry James, Jack Kerouac, Norman Mailer, Woody Allen, Edgar Allen Poe, Maya Angelou, Simon & Garfunkel, and Dylan Thomas just to name a few—developed within the threshold of the neighborhood’s aura. In addition, a number of cultural and political revolutions were rooted in the village, including the Stonewall riots of the gay liberation movement and Jane Jacobs’ critique of urban renewal. The place to be, the Village drew in cultural enthusiasts of all kinds, including those with more than enough money to be there thanks to nearby high-paying jobs. Soon more people were seeking out homes than could fit, creating competition. Those willing to pay a higher rent than the creative people they sought out won, leaving the poets, artists, musicians, and bohemians without a place to live. From this gentrification, the Village changed. Bleecker Street, its main thoroughfare, now has no fewer than three Marc Jacobs stores, with three Ralph Lauren stores nearby, entirely unaffordable to the population that had lived there before. The local haunts at which the artists were regulars are now inhabited only by wealthy

The Death and Life of a Gentrified Neighborhood

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students, lawyers, and financial workers. With support from the rich that have moved in, large brand names have replaced small family businesses and hangouts that helped to render the neighborhood cool to begin with. Bleecker Street is relatively quiet now. The only people walking around are tourists who have seen RENT too many times and eat forty-dollar meals where smoke-filled cafes used to be. In high-rises, windows are black against the glowing night. Entrepreneurs own entire floors solely for business trips, to fly in for lunch with their CFOs, and to arrange their thirty-four Hugo Boss and Gucci suits in the cedar closet by color. What happened in the Village is continuing to happen in countless other places: various neighborhoods stretching from Brooklyn to San Francisco are becoming unaffordable to the diverse crowd that made them great. The culture of these places dissolves to make way for the monetary value they inspire, but at what cost? It’s not hard to see why someone with money would want to move into these areas, but is the value a neighborhood gains in high rent and tourist money worth the destruction of its cultural value and accessibility? Or can the rich move into a neighborhood without displacing its residents? In order to retain a neighborhood’s culture, while not limiting its growth, a city should continue to provide both low-wage jobs and significant affordable housing—either public or private—that would allow for a socioeconomically diverse population in direct proximity to the cultural epicenter. Only then can the combination of rich and bohemian keep the neighborhood alive.

Written by Andrew Scheinman

The Delmar DivideA story of a split St. Louis and an attempt to put the pieces back together In March 2012, BBC made a short documentary titled the Delmar Divide, which examined how Delmar Boulevard makes a stark division between touching neighborhoods. The story is the same as these cases often are – one neighborhood is primarily Caucasian, affluent, and educated while the other is primarily African American, lower-income, and uneducated. We see this in most cities across the board; it tells the story of structural and systematic segregation in twenty-first century America. Yet what’s so shocking about St. Louis is that these two neighborhoods touch, only separated by one street. If you walk down the south side of Kingshighway and compare it to the north side, the data and statistics on the neighborhoods’ demographics are hardly shocking. The BBC report cited that the median home value south of Delmar was $335,000 whereas that of the homes north of the dividing street was $73,000; the median household income for the former was $50,000 a year, whereas the latter’s median income was $18,000. The disparities were more pervasive than just in economic terms: south of Delmar, 70% of the population had bachelor’s degrees, whereas only 10% of their neighbors north held bachelor degrees. The way the neighborhood looks reflects this discrepancy. Of course, on the north side, the numerous vacant lots and abandoned storefronts are striking, but what about south of the intersection? We see large, historical homes and well-tended sidewalks – a completely different world. Yet what stands out to me is the amount of gates in the neighborhood south of Delmar. How can any population expect socioeconomic mobility when they’re physically gated off from their more fortunate neighbors who live only a block away? The inability for people to gain access to health care, education, and housing is a prevalent issue for Americans. We’re familiar with the conversations of the 1% versus the 99%, the uneven distribution of wealth and opportunity that rages throughout our country. Yet, we’re used to the underprivileged living conveniently far from the wealthy, so that the latter remains comfortably ignorant of the former. In

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this case, ignorance is not an option. As one woman recounts in the BBC report, “I don’t know anybody who’s not aware of this disparity. We call it the ‘Gucci’ grocery store and the ‘ghetto’ grocery store, and people pick up on that.” Luckily, since the mini-documentary came out in 2012, it has become viral and several St. Louis organizations sought to solve this problem in any possible way. Although Mayor Slay argued the video did not bring to light all of the positive changes to the area, BBC ignited several organizations to try to remedy the disparity between the two neighborhoods. The Pulitzer Foundation, the Missouri History Museum, and the Anti-Defamation League facilitated discussions drawing in audiences ranging from community groups to construction workers. Tackling all socioeconomic issues of those living north of Delmar seemed daunting. Instead, it seemed constructive to mend the tensions from a more emotional side, so that people could feel coming together within their shared blocks. The committee thus set up an art competition to gather ideas that productively helped the population to voice their own stories in the experience of the Delmar division. Ideas ranged from “North City has Heart and Soul” canvas tote bags to building farms on the vacant lots; from a mural to a sculpture made entirely out of musical instruments. The final winner, however, submitted by Damon Davis, is titled “The Wailing Wall.” This brick wall, which the committee plans to build in the next couple months on the Loop, will run parallel to the dividing road and will serve as a symbol of the separation between the two neighborhoods. It will encourage people both from North and South to write their story on the wall, and then will be symbolically broken down within a couple of months of its construction. The Wailing Wall marks only the start of a series of discussions and projects to help patch back together the community. The tensions are not yet resolved, and the divide still remains. But we can only hope that little by little, the inaccessible gates South of Delmar open up and that the brick wall comes down.

Written and Photographed by Libby Perold

If you have had the privilege of driving in St. Louis, you’ve probably experienced frustration in having to drive in a somewhat tangential path to arrive at your ultimate destination; you’ve noticed (and perhaps cursed) the lack of through streets. Apart from wasting gas and time these street designs limit accessibility of those unfamiliar with the area, but more importantly limits the access of “undesirables.” Persons who fall under the category of “undesirables” include those of differing social status as pertains mostly to socio-economic groups and those associated with a criminal element. These dead end streets eliminate through traffic specifically of non-residents and outsiders. In some cases, pedestrian shortcuts are blocked by the erection of walls and gates that run adjacent to the sidewalk. In this way, dead end streets are connected to the network of private streets and gated communities found in the greater St. Louis area. St. Louis was one of the first places in America to develop private streets a process that began in the mid to late 19th century. The privatization of streets expanded to the creation of gated communities. Gated communities are created for three reasons. One being to house people of similar lifestyles together; this is mainly seen in retirement communities. Second is to convey a sense of status. In this situation residence mainly depends on socioeconomic status. Third is for security purposes. Residents are afraid of the possibility of being robbed or attacked and lock themselves up behind gates and in some cases security guards. This level of security is usually only when a community is located in an

area adjacent to an area with higher crime rates or at least the perception of higher crime rates. While the fear of crime is a reasonable trepidation, it is not appropriate to disengage from the community at large and ignore the problems happening on the other side of the gates. Certainly there are benefits to living in a gated community – an added sense of security and a likely increase in property value.

Locked Out

Whether or not living in such a community raises property values is immaterial and is really just indicative of a larger problem. It harkens back to the mid 20th century when residents of this city were so concerned about property values that they left their neighbors in the lurch leaving behind a legacy of vacancy that has yet to be tackled. The sad truth is that “undesirables” in most cases correspond to racial lines by viewing African Americans as a threat to property values as well as safety. Erecting a physical barrier to keep them out is still akin to segregation perhaps not in the same discriminatory terms, because blacks are still allowed in good neighborhoods, but only if their bank account will allow it. Shouldn’t the focus be on making everywhere a desirable place to live? One definite way to raise property values would be to do just that. Putting up a gate is taking the easy way out. Self-selected society is not the issue here; it is the continued punishment to those living in harsh circumstances not necessarily through any fault of their own.

Putting up a gate is taking the easy way out.“ ”

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Written by Nichole MurphyIllustrated by Leora Baum

Friedreich Nietzsche once wrote, “Without music, life would be a mistake,”1. Victor Hugo claimed, “Music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent,”2 And Martin Luther believed that “Music is the art of the prophets and the gift of God,”3. We all have some sort of a relationship with music, whether we enjoy listening to it, playing it, or both. The majority of students at Washington University in St. Louis have studied a musical instrument at one point or another, or at least had the option of doing so. Most of us began in elementary or middle school, some even earlier. We all probably bought or rented our first instruments at an early age and squeaked and squawked our way through the school orchestra. The more serious students got private lessons, and regardless of our level of playing, practicing was a major part of our lives (or at least that’s what we told our teachers). Some of us enjoyed it, others not so much. But whether or not our parents forced us into it, there’s a good chance that we learned something from the experience, even if the something we learned was that we would not be professional musicians. However, the unfortunate reality about music is that a lot of students in America never have the chance to touch a musical instrument, much less get private lessons or play in an orchestra. There is an extremely high economic barrier to musical education, which is all too evident here in St. Louis. It seems unfair that the experience of learning music (in which many of us participated) is enjoyed only by a limited number of people. Access to music education is only one of the ways that money gets in the way of music. Classical music

Economic Barriers The Classical Music Experience in St. Louis

itself has become a pleasure that is reserved for a select few. Economically disadvantaged people still participate in the world of music, but the limitations are great. Reserved for people who can afford to go to a St. Louis Symphony Orchestra Concert or are able to purchase an instrument and invest in private lessons, Classical music is effectively out of the reach of many. No money, no violin, no orchestra. In an effort to change this, an impassioned local, Mark Sarich, has partnered with Wash U students to create and manage Orchestrating Diversity: El Sistema-St. Louis, a St. Louis group inspired by the internationally renowned El Sistema program centered in Venezuela. The purpose of this local organization is to empower students through music. Offering a free youth orchestra program, a beginner’s piano program, and several introductory music programs in addition to private lessons, offered all over the city, students who were previously unable to participate in Classical music are given the tools they need to excel at their instrument of choice4. Open to all, the community orchestra and other programs rely on mentorship between experienced players and beginners. Ultimately, Orchestrating Diversity seeks to make classical music accessible to everyone, and to create a community that is based on people making music together.

Written by Gregory A. HarrisonIllustrated by Margaret Flatley

1Twilight of the Idols by Friedreich Nietzsche2Hugo’s Works: William Shakespeare by Victor Hugo3Goodreads.com4orchestra.lemp-arts.org

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Despite the huge vacancy problem that plagues Saint Louis, the city’s public transit system is one of its crowning achievements. Sure, the Metrolink only takes you along the East-West corridor of the metro area, leaving the North and South sides out, and it takes a little planning to use—trains typically come every 20 minutes. But considering how spread out the metro area is, with only 10% of the Saint Louis Metropolitan area within city limits, and the fact that Metrolink has the 10th highest ridership of light rail systems in the country1, it’s doing pretty well for itself. One area that the Metrolink has fallen short, however, is pedestrian accessibility at certain stations, and there is no better example of this than at Brentwood’s Metrolink station. Thanks to the construction of the blue line which is not even a decade old, I can take the train directly from Wash U’s campus to Target and Trader Joe’s, two immensely popular shopping destinations for everyone, including the college students living in Clayton and University City. When you exit the train you are within a quarter mile of Brentwood’s massive Promenade shopping center, but you are faced with choosing between two difficult and ill-planned paths. You can either walk north along Eager Road—a high speed bypass route of nearby I-170— as well as down a makeshift dirt path down a steep hill, or you can walk south through Hanley Industrial Court—a typically deserted collection of factories where sidewalks did not exist and tight corners require automobile drivers to be cautious while whipping around them. Both of these routes are twice as long, and neither is particularly fun at night. Recently, I took the Metrolink there, knowing full well what I was getting myself into. After leaving the platform (which is designed in itself to trouble pedestrians), I was pleasantly surprised A new sidewalk was constructed that connected the train station to the Brentwood Promenade shopping plaza. Sure, Hanley Industrial Court still isn’t the most inviting location to walk through, but having a right of way for pedestrians is a relief, and it means much more to those who use wheelchairs and have disabilities. The sidewalk is functional, of course, but it makes a bolder statement than the safety of Metro passengers—people are walking around Brentwood and in the St. Louis area, rather than just driving. A suburban town finally sees the relevance of public transportation and the accessibility of its resources to everyone.

Thankfully, this sidewalk is not the end of Brentwood’s efforts towards accessibility. This project, which was completed in 2013, is part of the Brentwood Pedestrian and Transit Improvement Project, which is a project funded federally through the East West Gateway Council of Governments. Originally conceived in 2010 with construction starting months after, the $2 million project aims at making Brentwood a more walkable city, starting at its busy commercial district2. The new sidewalk, which is one part of the project, connects the Brentwood Metro station with Brentwood Promenade (the location of Target and Trader Joe’s) and on through to Memorial Park, a public park that lies beyond Hanley Industrial Court, farthest from the train station. This new addition will bring Brentwood one step closer to being a more accessible city. The recent city trends are moving away from automobiles and towards buses, light rail, and bicycles as primary methods of transit. In Saint Louis, these are especially new—the Metrolink itself just celebrated its Twenty Year anniversary, which doesn’t even include the seven-year-old blue line. The collaboration between the Metrolink station, suburban shopping districts, and public parks to create more accessibly for everyone shows strong indication of smarter design in the future—one that prioritizes pedestrians over autos.

1Nationwide Ridership Statistics: http://www.apta.com/resources/statistics/Documents/Ridership/2013-q2-ridership-APTA.pdf2The Brentwood Pedestrian and Transit Improvement Plan: http://mo-

brentwood2.civicplus.com/DocumentCenter/View/5304

Written and Photographed by Michael Savala

Turning the Tide

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This diagram shows the direct route to Dierberg’s (grocery store) and Target in orange from the Metrolink Station (green dot), with the pedestrian paths to each in purple. Dierberg’s is the shorter one. The pedestrian paths are about twice as long as the direct distances.

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Breaking the Cycle in St. Louis

Across Washington University’s campus, numerous bikes sit locked to every stand. The variety of colors, sizes, frame types, and handlebars reflects not on the diversity of those who use them, but how they are used. A light-blue beach cruiser holstering a basket in the rear sits ready for a leisurely ride to class. Most, like this sporty black Treck, are practical for trips almost anywhere. A few lightweight road bikes wait for owners constantly in pursuit of new destinations. With tenderly worn grips and faded frames, they do not stay put for long. Yet many of the others have been still for a while. Their frames are shiny; their seats are unsquished; their tires have yet to be rubbed raw – locked and secure in one place. While it is safe to stay put, biking is a viable mechanism into St. Louis and its communities. I constantly see reminders of the vast framework of paths, trails, and lanes that connects this city. Sitting at Kaldi’s, a few bikers inevitably come in wearing their jerseys. Walking down Delmar, banners from The Greenway Campaign beg us to ride, walk, skate, hike, and roll St. Louis. And signposts from Soulard to Clayton prompt us to “Bike the City.” Still, who knows the routes? Standing incongruously next to a borrowed bicycle, I followed those who are one with their frames to see how accessible St. Louis is by two wheels. Caitlin Lee and Jamie Niekamp, leaders of Material Monster, facilitated an exploration of St. Louis for students like myself who hadn’t biked since childhood as well as others immersed in bike culture. They admit that even though many routes exist, spotty signposts, disconnected greenways, and ending bike lanes hinder unacquainted riders from being able to navigate the city.

Yet even knowing the path from Point A to Point B limits our understanding of the city. Getting off-track familiarizes us with a broader spatial context. Since many of us have been transplanted from hometowns that we know so well, it is easier to feel comfortable in the areas we recognize. To expand this recognition and come to know our new home, we must displace ourselves. At a stop in our ride, Jamie made us realize our limited understanding, and often misunderstanding, of the St. Louis layout by having us draw maps of the areas we most visited. More developed and accurate maps correlated with higher years in school, but even so, most showed disconnected blocks of frequented locations with blank spaces in-between, illustrating how one can travel the route between a starting point and a destination without contextualizing the rest. My own map contains nondescript rectangles, which despite labels only generalize the areas I’ve been to and thus further convey a lack of understanding. To know location A and location B is to still be lost within the whole. Following instructions on our smartphones doesn’t develop our own sense of direction. We have to learn the relation between all of the parts. The de-urbanization of St. Louis has led to the city’s fragmented identity. Many of us are similarly disjointed because we fail to integrate ourselves with our surroundings. Personal identity relies on a sense of belonging, but how can we belong to a place we don’t know, all the while emphasizing an extra clause in our namesake? The city biker challenges isolation and stagnancy, adding moving parts to a static city framework and transforming a sense of being lost into a sense of claiming one’s home.

“The de-urbanization of St. Louis has led to the city’s fragmented identity.”

Written by Douglas RogersonIllustration by Daniel Raggs

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Winter in Detroit. Heavy snow. Freezing cold. The desire for nothing but a blanket and fireplace. Or even better, a thermostat. From December to February, the average daily temperature for Detroit, Michigan is 28 degrees. The coldest day of 2012 had a low temperature of 6°F.1 There are now more than 20,000 homeless people living on the streets of Detroit. For these people, winter is an unavoidable fight for survival. With overwhelmed shelters and a lack of basic necessities to combat the cold, hypothermia and frost bite are dangerous realities. 20-year old Veronika Scott, a native of Detroit and a student at the College for Creative Studies, came up with an idea that she hoped would help those living on the streets. Her project is called the Empowerment Plan and her mission is to “provide jobs for those who desire them, and to provide coats at no cost for those who need them.” The coats the plan provides are not just donated hand-me downs. They are

wind and water resistant, self-heated, and double as a coat and sleeping bag. They are produced by homeless women hired and trained so that they can earn money to better their lives and that of their families. The Empowerment Plan currently employs 9 seamstresses trained by a professional, and has 13 total staff members. They expect to produce 4,000 coats in 2013. Potential business opportunities for the Empowerment Plan include interest from the Red Cross in using Scott’s coats for disaster relief. Another business model establishes a system where campers, hikers, or other interested buyers buy one coat and send one to a person in need. This is similar to the “one-for-one” model made popular by Tom’s shoes.2

STAYING WARM WITHOUT A HOMEWritten by Stephanie Silva

HEAT ACCESSIBILITY

“There are many reasons why people are homeless, but I could see one thing all of them needed: warmth.”

– Veronika Scott, NY Times

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Dumpster diving is often looked down upon. People who have the means to feed themselves often recognize it is out of necessity but still others call the cops. They consider it trespassing or stealing even though the “stolen” item was disposed of as undesired waste. They throw away an item, ignoring its potential for a more productive use than simply sitting in a landfill. Similarly, what if the idea of recycling undesired waste was applied to heat? This is the idea behind artist Michael Rakowitz’s project, paraSITE. In areas like Cambridge, Massachusetts the paraSITE was a solution to recent infrastructural changes affecting the homeless population. As Rakowitz describes, the city “had made a series of vents in Harvard Square ‘homeless-proof ’ by tilting the metal grates, making them virtually impossible to sleep on.”3 His solution uses two layers of plastic bags and tape to create a series of interconnected tubes. By attaching this to an exhaust duct of a heating or ventilation system on the outside of a building, the warm air flows into a connected plastic bag structure large enough for an individual to lie down inside. Compact, transportable, and made from easy-to-find materials, Rakowitz’s design fits the lifestyles of many homeless individuals. As with dumpster diving, this project brings the homeless and sheltered in direct contact with each other. Some see it as a harmless form of waste reuse. Others believe that it is potentially dangerous for the homeless and/or homeowners. And others see it as an illegal act that is detrimental to their neighborhood. Regardless of what homeowners might think, to the homeless the paraSITE is a simple item that can mean the difference between surviving the night and freezing to death, not to mention a more comfortable night’s sleep.4

Drugs and homelessness. Junkies injecting heroin or cocaine into their veins. Most people imagine faceless individuals taking drugs in alleyways, parks, on the side of the road, or maybe in an abandoned house. Places like San Francisco, Baltimore, and Vesterbro come to mind. Copenhagen’s neighborhood of Vesterbro, attracts anywhere from 500 to 800 people related to drugs every day. Residents worry about these drug users’ leftover needles, potential danger to themselves and others, and associated crime. Several residents of Vesterbro responded by creating a “fixe bus.” A “mobile injection-room and first aid service for the drug users of Vesterbro.” This ambulance is operated by volunteer healthcare professionals and outfitted with everything necessary to take drugs and respond to an overdose. The bus is driven to an area associated with drug users and provides them with a clean, warm, and supervised place to take their drugs. In the long, harsh winters of Denmark, the fixe bus provides both warmth and privacy for those individuals deprived of both. Their plan to “continue the work to save lives and dignity until there is a permanent drug-using facility in Vesterbro” gained its desired outcome with the opening of Denmark’s first permanent injection room in Vesterbro last year. In addition to providing drug addicts with a safe and warm shelter, professionals working in the injection rooms are prepared to offer assistance if a drug user desires help getting clean. Ultimately, proponents of the injection room strive to clean up the streets while giving drug users their dignity back.5 While many shelters do not have sufficient room for the number of homeless in their given area, some people choose to sleep on the streets out of a sense of pride, a lack of privacy in shelters, or for other reasons. On top of the challenges of staying safe, healthy and warm, getting food, and protecting what possessions they have, they face what is referred to as “the cycle of homelessness.” There are innumerous and seemingly unconquerable factors making it difficult to escape the streets. For those individuals struggling with drug addiction, this cycle is even more inescapable. On top of this, there is often a public perception that if someone has lost their home they are lazy, unstable, or incapable of contributing to society. Scott, Rakowitz, and volunteers in Vesterbro hope to give homeless individuals a chance by addressing one of the most widespread yet overlooked challenges of being homeless: staying warm.

1 http://www.currentresults.com/Weather-Extremes/US/coldest-cities-winter.php2 http://www.empowermentplan.org/3 Design Like You Give a Damn: Architectural Responses to Humanitarian Crises. New York, NY: Metropolis, 2006. Print.

“I don’t need to hide anymore or be afraid that someone walking past while I’m shooting up in public might kick me and say: ‘Get out of my way, junkie.’ … My drug habits shouldn’t be anyone else’s business.”

– Annette, Danish drug addict,Deutsche Welle (DW)

“To the user a paraSITE shelter represents a refusal to surrender to the life one faces in the welfare and shelter systems.”

– Design Like You Give a Damn

The Public Art DialogueA Contextualized Look at the new Moto

Museum Mural by Re+Public and MOMO

On September 21st a new mural on an exterior wall of the Moto Museum in Grand Center was unveiled to the public. The mural is the first of its kind in St. Louis, and only one of a few nationwide. Designed by the creative collaborative group, Re+Public, and a local artist, MOMO, the mural acts as a digital, immersive, and interactive piece that can be experienced via smart phone app. By looking at the mural through the app, viewers won’t just be seeing it, they’ll be changing, moving and entering the scenes, all with the tap of a finger. Re+Public has coined this perception an “augmented reality experience” and thus far has six projects completed in New York, Miami, Norway, and the latest in St. Louis. Like most public artists, Re+Public claims their artistic intentions are rooted in the general interest of the people and surroundings they impose on. Specifically, they state in their mission that the organization tries to democratize “access to our shared visual environment.” It seems that through the series of these augmented reality experience murals, they are genuinely trying to give the public a fresh and innovative way to look at their own urban fabric and challenge the ideas of public verses private, and opened or closed spaces. But how democratic is it really to install art for the public if each individual viewer needs a smart phone to access it? It’s not easy for individual artists to create something that the entire public sphere accepts, loves and benefits from. In fact, it’s very rarely done. Almost all other art forms

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besides public art are created by the artists’ own personal visions and desires, and if those arts are exposed to the public in shows, galleries or museums, then no one really gives a damn if everyone likes it or not. So why do public artists keep grappling with the notion of democracy and public wellbeing? The idea began in 1965 when the modernist phase of public art was set in motion by the Kennedy administration through the creation of the National Endowment for the Arts. The agency, still in place today, operates through appointed panels that make decisions of who and what to commission for public art – the idea being that these would no longer be chosen by governmental officials, but by people in the field, like other artists, critics, and curators. Ideally the NEA would allow artists complete freedom to pursue their own visions. However, this wasn’t the only agenda for the agency – the NEA was mainly put in place by the Kennedy Administration in the 60’s to create public art that would improve popular taste of Americans, withdraw them from their television sets and other forms of mass entertainment, maintain morale during the Cold War, and play an important role in urban renewal programs in cities. Since the NEA was put in place, and public art germinated across the nation, there has been large concern about the public’s input and response to the art and artists chosen. The very first NEA funded project was a sculpture called “La Grande Vitesse” by Alexander Calder in Grand

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Rapids, Michigan. The giant red sculpture was immediately met with opposition by many residents, saying that it wasn’t really for the public, that it was a private object meant for a small audience. Richard Serra is a contemporary public sculptor that has installed many pieces around the world. St. Louis is home to two Serra sculptures, “Joe,” which nests between the Pulitzer Foundation and the Contemporary Art Museum, and “Twain,” located in Citygarden downtown. “Joe,” for the most part, has been well received. Set behind concrete walls and sandwiched between two art museums, “Joe” is in a very isolated public space, off the beaten path for almost everyone. So when people visit “Joe,” they seek it out, wanting to enjoy it. “Twain,” on the other hand, is located a few blocks west of the arch as a part of the city’s two-block sculpture park. Comprised of 8 large panels of weathering steel, “Twain” encloses a large triangular shape. From inside the gaps between panels frame provocative views of the city fabric around it. However, the sculpture has been criticized for creating an unsafe place by obstructing visibility from the park. Is giving the public art that provokes interesting and novel thought worth jeopardizing public safety? Most of those who do enter and occupy “Twain” are of the homeless community because inside acts as an escape from the public and provides privacy. Can art be successful when no one is using it? Or does it take on a different identity when its intentions don’t match its use in reality?

Banksy is an elusive graffiti artist whose work has been highly praised and appreciated, and also condemned and vandalized. One night this past October Banksy graffitied a building in Brooklyn, New York owned by a family, the Tabachnicks. When they woke up the next day there were about 500 people gathered at their building. The Tabachnicks faced what many people whose properties are victimized or privileged enough to get “Banksyed” face. As if they woke up one morning and found a baby on their doorstep, they must make some strange and hard decisions about the graffiti. Do they protect it? Or do they let it be vandalized? Do they keep it for the public, believing that Banky’s work is really public art? Or do you they take it as their own, or sell it in auctions

for hundreds of thousands of dollars? Why were they given the responsibility to deal with something so valuable and controversial? Public art is a very controversial subject that brings up very complex questions and issues. It’s not clear yet how St. Louisans feel about the new mural in Grand Center, but it’s interesting to think about the way this new technology of an augmented reality experience could change, disrupt, or question the public space around it. If passersby elect to pull out their smart phones and experience this art and this space by looking at their screens, does this change the reality or their perceptions of the street? Does this disrupt routine and culture of Grand Center? Although individuals may not own the mural, they do have some sense of ownership for the neighborhoods they live in and occupy, or walk and drive through on a day-to-day basis. But does this mean that the potential opposition to the mural will be heard and dealt with by the artists who created it or the city that sanctions it? Does it mean that since the mural is in the public sphere that individuals have the right to change it, or vandalize it? At what point do we draw the line of just letting public art be or acting out against it? Is it the idea of safety, privilege, democracy, censorship, ownership? There’s no way to really know the right answers to these questions. But we can let this new mural in Grand Center become a part of the public art dialogue that’s been going on for the past several decades. So make up your opinions. Go down to Grand Center and experience this mural, this new innovative technology, this “augmented reality experience,” and join the conversation.

Written and Photographed by Reagan Lauder

Sources:Re+Public – Re+Imagining Public Space, republiclab.com.“The Politics of American Public Art – An Interview With Casey Blake,” December 2, 1998.Elliot Smith, “Commentary: Popularity Is Not An Index Of Quality.”NPR Staff, “Getting ‘Banksied’ Comes With A Price – And Maybe A Paycheck,” npr.org, October 23, 2013.

An Olympic Games for Whom? RIO 2016

Olympic venues require consideration of accessibility for athletes, media, spectators and infrastructure supporters (food, security, etc.). While these are important for the frenetic two weeks in which an Olympics event occurs, the impact of the construction and design will last decades into the future and must serve the needs of the cities, communities and citizens where they are built. On October 2, 2009, the city of Rio de Janeiro received the bid to host the 2016 Olympic and Paralympic games. In 2012, London set a precedent of incorporating community opinions and plans for after the Games in their designs, creating a legacy for all future Olympic games. The built environment created during the London games revitalized parts of East London; and reports state that the buildings and stadiums are successfully making the transition into usable spaces for the London public. As Rio prepares for the 2016 Olympics, they are facing many of the questions London had to address: how will the new designs and architecture interact with the current inhabitants? Who are the improvements and infrastructure really for? What should the legacy of Rio 2016 be? Many people look to the London 2012 Games as a model for Rio, yet differences between how Rio and London were planned are raising major concerns. The favelas of Rio are experiencing harsh repercussions from the Olympic developments. The favelas are slums that come into being when squatters occupy vacant land at the edge of a city; they are often crowded, unsanitary, poor, polluted, and diseased2. Unlike the London Olympics, the local residents in the favelas of Rio are not being asked for their opinions regarding the planning and urban development that directly affects their lives. Instead, the first time they talk to a government official regarding the Olympics is generally when they are being told they are going to be evicted and relocated3. For some, like Bernice Maria das Neves, the conditions by which one is evicted are almost inhumane. According to the BBC, “One day in May, Berenice was summoned to City Hall, more than an hour’s bus ride away in the centre of Rio. There, she was

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told that her house had been condemned, and was handed a check for 8,000 reais ($5,000) in compensation. By the time she got home, her house had been bulldozed. Major human rights groups including the UN and Amnesty International have condemned Brazil for this policy4.

In the case of Berenice and 1,000 others; their homes were destroyed to make room for a new and improved highway. When the vast majority of those in favelas don’t own cars, how universally accessible is this highway. Here, the built environment clashes with human lives; and the powerful developers and planners of the Olympics have won by imposing “positive” developments of the people of Rio. The government is issuing these evictions on the grounds of eminent domain, while ensuring that there is a nicer place for them to go. A question arises as to what the city’s intent is- whether the Brazilian government is trying to find better housing and a better life for their residents; or if they’re just trying to get rid of them. During an interview with a relocated resident, the man admits that the new homes are nicer, but are too far from work, schools, and old life that they feel their lives have been pushed aside by the government5. It seems, according to the news coming out of Rio, that the government’s real interest lies in an Olympics that looks good to outsiders--an Olympics without crime nor poverty- an Olympics where the favelas don’t exist. The London Olympics were part of a larger urban re-development plan that has stimulated communities and benefited the entire region. I do not see this happening in Rio. Is this because Rio is less astute in the development than London? I think the larger issue is that the Brazilian government seems more concerned

“What use is 8,000 reais? I’d need at least four times as much to find a house to buy. And I had a terrible time trying to cash the cheque because I can’t read or write.” -Berenice, Favela Resident

“One of the objectives is to organize an all-inclusive Games, leaving the city’s population with a positive social balance… the Games can be a social change.”

-Sustainability Management Plan

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with showcasing their global reputation than the needs of their citizens. If we take Beijing as an archetype for this phenomenon, we realize the negative consequences that can come from a lack of focus on the local populationand a sole desire to show one’s country off to the world. For the 2016 Games, the planning committee published a “Sustainability Management Plan”, where a guideline for involving “people” in the Olympic games is clearly presented. is clearly presented.

Although, on paper, the plan for the Olympics seems ideal, the execution has been controversial. When the planning committee declares they hope “to organize an all-inclusive Games”, the issue of accessibility can be understood as a question of who has accessibility to the events, the buildings, the positive repercussions. In trying to relate the events of Rio to our own lives, it is important to emphasize that the issues surrounding the 2016 Olympics are not isolated, nor are they unique to Rio, Brazil, or even Latin America. Although there is increasing controversy between the favelas and the Olympic developments, this

dispute has played out before, just with different actors. Issues of eminent domain have characterized St. Louis slum clearance for decades, where it was used to promote projects like Pruitt-Igoe and Cochran Gardens. As history has told us, these projects have created urban wastelands- plagued by violence, disease, and decay. Designs of highways and public transportation have displaced millions throughout the world and played an especially prominent role in the development of St. Louis, often dividing communties in half, resulting in polarization and disillusionment. In order to better understand the debates and controversies that are occurring in the planning of the Olympic games in Rio, keep in mind the other articles in this issue and the disputes that marked St. Louis’ development over the past 100 years. The issues discussed here are not unique to Rio, or to the Olympics. A common trend seems to be the importance of “people”. The success of London has largely been credited to the community outreach and involvement, which ensures the design will be activated after the Games are over. The focus in Rio seems to be to showcase Brazil’s power to the international community. The balance between accessibility, functionality, and preservation is nearly impossible to attain. Whether we like it or not, the multinational design firms and government have the ability to impose what they need on the people of Rio. The question becomes, in the context of a total proposal for the city, whom are we designing for.

1. http://uk.eurosport.yahoo.com/blogs/londonspy/olympics-paid-itself-2021-142050186.html2. http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/favela3. http://www.nytimes.com/2012/08/13/opinion/in-the-name-of-the-future-rio-is-destroying-its-past.html?_r=04. http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-latin-america-139570965. http://www.archdaily.com/214726/rio-de-janeiros-favelas-the-cost-of-the-2016-olympic-games/6. http://www.rio2016.com/sites/default/files/parceiros/sustainability_management_plan_aug2013.pdf

Written by Carrick ReddinIllustrated by Laken Sylvander

the accessibility