More than any other form of art, architecture, because of its scale, requires cash. That is to say that, especially at the level of large urban architecture, no architect has the means or the ability to build for themselves their dream project like a painter or sculptor sometimes can. Moreover, while architecture is art, and architects artists, the buildings that they produce, especially the type I have been talking about, are businesses. In the modern age, buildings are branded, and have been for quite some time. They are symbols of power, success, and the ability to literally change the face of a city. Few and far between are projects where an architect is given total free reign, and they tend to be all but nonexistent in the forum of urban architecture. However, this does not mean that great buildings cannot still be built or cannot be built here in New York and the United States. Some of the greatest and most enduring monuments of our city (and some of the worst and ugliest) were built by corporations and developers who wanted to declare their strength, power, and prominence to the world. So how do we account for the relative blandness of what is being built around us today?

In 1928 William Van Alen designed what would ultimately become of the most consciously branded and yet most successful skyscrapers in the world. His Chrysler Building, which was, due to his clever subterfuge, the tallest building in the world for less than a year, is adorned with gargoyles and flairs that were designed to mimic the hood ornaments and radiator caps of Chrysler cars in order to link the building to, and please, the corporation that was footing the bill. Similarly, Lever House and the Seagram’s building which, standing across Park Avenue from one another, form the nexis of urban skyscraper modernism were daring when they were built and have turned out to be important and much imitated (unfortunately often very poorly) turning points in 20th century architecture. However, by the same token, Phillip Johnson’s abominable and tacky Chippendale armoire/skyscraper that he built for AT&T or Hitler’s planned People’s Hall in Germania (a caprice we should be thankful was never built, but which was designed to seat 180,000 people in the main hall; one of many problems being that the breath of 180,000 people would have condensed into clouds in the dome and then caused it to rain on the assembled masses) which were designed to similarly show off the puissance and skyline changing power of the people funding them are not important in the same way and have thankfully not had the same kind of impact.

So it seems to me that to build a great building like the ones above, one needs a rather ineffable combination of the right place, the right time, the right society (or societal ethos), the right architect, and, perhaps most importantly, the right person paying the bill. The goal is, or should be in an ideal world, not simply to create something that will hubristically mark the landscape, but to create something that inspires and draws attention to itself through its quality, not just its size. However, it seems to me that what is missing from the US and specifically New York City today is that as architecture continues to be, and become more and more, big business those who are funding the buildings start to think more about and put more consideration into profit margins instead of architectural integrity. The three buildings I mentioned above were ludicrously expensive. Mies van der Rohe was famous for using a very limited palette of materials but those that he did use were incredibly expensive. Even just the windows of the Seagram’s building—which was the most expensive skyscraper in the world at the time of its completion—with their iconic brass colored hue require near constant cleaning and upkeep in order to make the building look presentable. Today though it seems hard to imagine someone taking the same kind of risk with a building, especially one they have to sell space in and sell to the public. For examples of this we need look no further than the new “Freedom Tower” which has evolved from a daring design by Daniel Leibeskind which was supposed to add to New York City’s famous downtown skyline by mimicking and playing off of the Statue of Liberty to the current, boring design by David Childs or the architectural taste of Donald Trump. He has made a career of throwing up one neo-Miesian skyscraper after another, as though if he builds enough of them and puts his name, just large enough, in shiny gold letters on the front of each maybe he will assure for himself the same sort of longevity or immortality that Phyllis Lambert (the daughter of then Seagram’s CEO Samuel Bronfman who convinced her father to hire Mies) helped her father’s company gain. However, these buildings are economical; they do not lose floor space towards the top because of daring forms or new architectural ideas. They are a product of a society and a time which, while successful, seems more worried about making a dollar than making an architectural and cultural statement. That is not necessarily a problem, and maybe it is a plateau that societies reach at a certain level of success. Maybe if China and India become economic powers and stabilize in 50 years they too (when hopefully more private citizens and companies instead of governments can and are funding building projects) will stop trying to make huge statements and settle into a more cost conscious less daring building phase as we have, and—as Eben noted—as the Dutch have in Amsterdam.

One of the few interesting buildings that is on the proverbial horizon here in NYC is a skyscraper being built right next to the MOMA by the French architect and 2008 Pritzker Prize winner Jean Nouvel. This exciting tapering tower may not be a landmark or a revolutionary move in the big game of international architecture, but it is exciting, and more interestingly was the more “dangerous” and thrilling of the two designs that the architect was asked to produce. But even this building has to be sold today in NYC. The upper floors have so much of their space taken up by the elevator core that the apartments there will feel like they are very pressed up against the glass. To combat this the architect and developer have said that they will feel like the pied a terre at the top of the Eiffel Tower where Gustav Eiffel used to work, but of course they are in reality penthouses which will have to be sold for multi-million dollar amounts and as such the reference to Eiffel’s apartment rings hollow, like a marketing ploy more than a truthful statement.

Buildings are designed by architects, but they are made by the people paying for them. Skyscrapers and skyline altering and headline grabbing works of architecture are, like sports teams, one of the greatest, boldest, and loudest forms of conspicuous and invidious consumption. The problem however seems to be that today instead of trying to produce great buildings that inspire envy, more developers, governments, and corporations appear to be trying to produce economically marvelous and profitable buildings so that the “Joneses” are jealous not of what was built, but of how much money it can make.