New York Magazine – August 05, 2019

68 new york | august 5–18, 2019

of “What is that?” structure that could only

be a museum. At the same time, the archi-

tecture also celebrated the Lower East Side’s

lopsided, tumbledown quality. The building

dodged out of the way just where Prince

Street slams into the Bowery. Its discrete

boxes looked haphazardly stacked and mis-

aligned, not unlike tenement rooflines. The

steel mesh that wrapped the museum like

chain mail was simultaneously defiant and

defensive, as if to acknowledge the area’s

hostility to preciousness. In a neighborhood

of four-story walk-ups, the New Museum

organized its galleries around a claustropho-

bic central stair.

But a museum can honor its neighbor-

hood’s grunginess only in the way a lepidop-

terist honors a butterfly: by killing it. The

block is not the messy, boozy, lowdown

Bowery of yore, and the New Museum isn’t

the scrappy counterculture start-up it once

was either. In 2007, the block and the insti-

tution settled down in a de facto marriage,

building the sort of home together where

guidebooks send visitors who come from

less delirious hometowns.

Now comes the New York branch of

Koolhaas’s firm, Office for Metropolitan

Architecture, headed by Shohei Shige-

matsu, to help the New Museum expand

laterally. OMA has designed an alluring

geode to go with Sanaa’s metal-clad case.

When the $63 million addition is built,

Prince Street will dead-end into a triangu-

lar plaza formed by the new wing’s tilted

wall. The oddball tower will have a com-

panion, and an emergent cultural power-

house will cement its triumph over the

empire of entropy. Exhibition space will

double to 20,000 square feet—a crumb

compared with the Museum of Modern

Art’s soon-to-be-inaugurated total of

17 5,000 square feet. But it’s not hard to

imagine that, a few decades from now, it

PHOTOGRAPHS: OMA/BLOOMIMAGES.DE (NEW MUSEUM); TORE VOLLAN (COLD CASE HAMMARSKJÖLD)

will have taken over the Bowery the way

MoMA occupied West 53rd Street, linking

up discrete buildings like boxcars on a

freight train, until another architect figures

out how to stitch them all together.

The trajectory was apparent a dozen

years ago. Even before the new-paint smell

had dissipated in its Sanaa headquarters,

the museum was already eyeing the next

phase. It bought the six-story 1920 ware-

house building next door at 231 Bowery in

2008 (from a restaurant-supply company)

and immediately began using it as an

annex. Among the early exhibitions in the

storefront gallery was “Cronocaos,” a

polemic on preservation organized by Kool-

haas and OMA. The show argued that a

global preservation movement had over-

reached, placing ever-larger swaths of the

world off-limits to renewal and regenera-

tion. Somehow it’s not surprising that a firm

promoting an aesthetic of creative destruc-

tion decided the annex had to go.

Just because a conclusion was foregone

doesn’t mean it was wrong. Good architects

often spend as much time on alternatives

they ultimately reject as they do on the final

version, and Shigematsu and his team took

seriously the desire to adapt and connect

the existing building. They found that by

the time they were done punching holes in

the structure, stripping out columns, join-

ing floors that don’t line up, jamming a new

small tower into the back, and peeling away

and reattaching the façade, they would be

left with a pile of shavings.

Still, the labor of continuing all the way up

a dead-end road paid off, and it shows in the

design’s coherence. It led OMA to leave

Sa naa’s building physically and spiritually

intact and pair it with a tightly packed mini-

tower set back from the street. Inside, the

two buildings are joined at the hip, so each

gallery floor flows from one into the other.

The lobby too will function as a continuous

Z-shaped space, zigging from the current

front door to the coat check and zagging to

a showpiece staircase in the new wing, then

back to a ground-floor restaurant. Near the

top, a glassed-in hallway provides yet another

passage between the structures.

In 2001, OMA designed an abortive

addition to the Whitney that would have

overwhelmed Marcel Breuer’s landmark

Madison Avenue building (now the Met

Breuer). The proposal was a high-water

mark of architectural swagger and insensi-

tivity. This time, OMA has learned a mea-

sure of modesty. The brilliance of its New

Museum plan is that it gives the original

loner a soul mate but also space to breathe.

Sanaa’s building remains enigmatic,

guarded, slender, and slightly severe. OMA’s

is sharper and more playful, hopping back

and jabbing out, all angles and slopes. The

original has a façade like a fencer’s mask,

hiding the expressive action inside. OMA’s

faces the city with a sheer wrap of metal-

mesh fabric pressed between layers of glass,

the kind of shimmery floor-to-roof covering

that the first New Museum building

changes into after-hours.

What gives the new wing a personality

worthy of its address is the faceted rocklike

mass. Inside but visible from the street, a

staircase curls like a ribbon of orange peel,

dangling from a stepped auditorium on an

upper floor all the way to the lobby. Placing

stairs behind glass like artifacts in a vitrine

has become a common strategy, turning a

necessary piece of building machinery—a

required egress—into a fitness showcase. At

the New Museum, this approach tucks the

main galleries away from west-facing win-

dows so the artwork doesn’t get scoured by

afternoon sunlight. It also uses what would

otherwise be wasted space as a vertical gal-

lery, where light-resistant sculptures can be

suspended from the ceiling and drop three

or four floors.

For a global firm with New York in its

blood, OMA has barely worked here. Its first

residential building, a hunk of faceted ebony

on a corner of Lexington Avenue near Madi-

son Square, has just opened. The New

Museum will be its first institutional project

here. And yet in the past 40 years, as the city

has medicated itself with alternating doses

of extravagance and neglect, Koolhaas has

made his presence felt. “Manhattan has gen-

erated a shameless architecture that has

been loved in direct proportion to its defiant

lack of self-hatred, respected exactly to the

degree that it went too far,” he wrote a long,

long time ago. Since then, Manhattan has

also generated an avalanche of shameful

architecture, unloved in direct proportion to

its cravenness. Maybe it’s finally time for

OMA to supply a shot of delirium. ■

In the foreground, the New Museum’s proposed expansion.

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68 newyork| august5–18, 2019

of “What is that?” structure that couldonly
be a museum. At the same time,thearchi-
tecture also celebrated the Lower EastSide’s
lopsided, tumbledown quality. Thebuilding
dodged out of the way just wherePrince
Street slams into the Bowery. Itsdiscrete
boxes looked haphazardly stackedandmis-
aligned, not unlike tenement rooflines.The
steel mesh that wrapped the museumlike
chain mail was simultaneously defiantand
defensive, as if to acknowledge thearea’s
hostility to preciousness. In a neighborhood
of four-story walk-ups, the NewMuseum
organizeditsgalleriesarounda claustropho-
bic central stair.
But a museum can honor its neighbor-
hood’s grunginess only in the waya lepidop-
terist honors a butterfly: by killingit.The
block is not the messy, boozy, lowdown
Bowery of yore, and the New Museumisn’t
the scrappy counterculture start-upit once
was either. In 2007, the block andtheinsti-
tution settled down in a de factomarriage,
building the sort of home togetherwhere
guidebooks send visitors who comefrom
less delirious hometowns.
Now comes the New York branchof
Koolhaas’s firm, Office for Metropolitan
Architecture, headed by ShoheiShige-
matsu, to help the New Museumexpand
laterally. OMA has designed analluring
geode to go with Sanaa’s metal-cladcase.
When the $63 million additionisbuilt,
Prince Street will dead-end into atriangu-
lar plaza formed by the new wing’stilted
wall. The oddball tower will havea com-
panion, and an emergent culturalpower-
house will cement its triumphoverthe
empire of entropy. Exhibition spacewill
double to 20,000 square feet—acrumb
compared with the Museum ofModern
Art’s soon-to-be-inaugurated totalof
17 5,000 square feet. But it’s nothard to
imagine that, a few decades fromnow, it

will have taken over the Bowerytheway

MoMA occupied West 53rd Street,linking

up discrete buildings like boxcarsona

freight train, until another architectfigures

out how to stitch them all together.

The trajectory was apparenta dozen

years ago. Even before the new-paintsmell

had dissipated in its Sanaa headquarters,

the museum was already eyeingthenext

phase. It bought the six-story 1920ware-

house building next door at 231 Boweryin

2008 (from a restaurant-supply company)

and immediately began usingitasan

annex. Among the early exhibitionsinthe

storefront gallery was “Cronocaos,” a

polemic on preservation organizedbyKool-

haas and OMA. The show arguedthat a

global preservation movement hadover-

reached, placing ever-larger swathsofthe

world off-limits to renewal andregenera-

tion. Somehow it’s not surprising thata firm

promoting an aesthetic of creativedestruc-

tion decided the annex had to go.

Just because a conclusion wasforegone

doesn’t mean it was wrong. Goodarchitects

often spend as much time on alternatives

they ultimately reject as they do onthefinal

version, and Shigematsu and his teamtook

seriously the desire to adapt andconnect

the existing building. They foundthat by

the time they were done punchingholesin

the structure, stripping out columns,join-

ing floors that don’t line up, jamminga new

small tower into the back, and peelingaway

and reattaching the façade, theywouldbe

left with a pile of shavings.

Still, the labor of continuing all thewayup

a dead-end road paid off, and it showsinthe

design’s coherence. It led OMAtoleave

Sa naa’s building physically and spiritually

intact and pair it with a tightly packedmini-

tower set back from the street. Inside,the

two buildings are joined at the hip,soeach

gallery floor flows from one intotheother.

The lobby too will function as a continuous

Z-shaped space, zigging from the current

front door to the coat check and zagging to

a showpiece staircase in the new wing, then

back to a ground-floor restaurant. Near the

top, a glassed-in hallway provides yet another

passage between the structures.

In 2001, OMA designed an abortive

addition to the Whitney that would have

overwhelmed Marcel Breuer’s landmark

Madison Avenue building (now the Met

Breuer). The proposal was a high-water

mark of architectural swagger and insensi-

tivity. This time, OMA has learned a mea-

sure of modesty. The brilliance of its New

Museum plan is that it gives the original

loner a soul mate but also space to breathe.

Sanaa’s building remains enigmatic,

guarded, slender, and slightly severe. OMA’s

is sharper and more playful, hopping back

and jabbing out, all angles and slopes. The

original has a façade like a fencer’s mask,

hiding the expressive action inside. OMA’s

faces the city with a sheer wrap of metal-

mesh fabric pressed between layers of glass,

the kind of shimmery floor-to-roof covering

that the first New Museum building

changes into after-hours.

What gives the new wing a personality

worthy of its address is the faceted rocklike

mass. Inside but visible from the street, a

staircase curls like a ribbon of orange peel,

dangling from a stepped auditorium on an

upper floor all the way to the lobby. Placing

stairs behind glass like artifacts in a vitrine

has become a common strategy, turning a

necessary piece of building machinery—a

required egress—into a fitness showcase. At

the New Museum, this approach tucks the

main galleries away from west-facing win-

dows so the artwork doesn’t get scoured by

afternoon sunlight. It also uses what would

otherwise be wasted space as a vertical gal-

lery, where light-resistant sculptures can be

suspended from the ceiling and drop three

or four floors.

For a global firm with New York in its

blood, OMA has barely worked here. Its first

residential building, a hunk of faceted ebony

on a corner of Lexington Avenue near Madi-

son Square, has just opened. The New

Museum will be its first institutional project

here. And yet in the past 40 years, as the city

has medicated itself with alternating doses

of extravagance and neglect, Koolhaas has

made his presence felt. “Manhattan has gen-

erated a shameless architecture that has

been loved in direct proportion to its defiant

lack of self-hatred, respected exactly to the

degree that it went too far,” he wrote a long,

long time ago. Since then, Manhattan has

also generated an avalanche of shameful

architecture, unloved in direct proportion to

its cravenness. Maybe it’s finally time for

OMA to supply a shot of delirium. ■

In the foreground, the New Museum’s proposed expansion.