Real Like Disneyland

Scott Doyon:

The prevailing sentiment in these objections seems to be that something reminiscent of another time yet freshly constructed is, in and of itself, suspect. And maybe it is. But surely there is a point where the exploitation of memory ends and the incorporation of collective wisdom begins.

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Instead, we cast scrutiny upon efforts to restore these connections, as though that’s where the real threat is. The strip mall or the subdivision is what we’ve come to expect, which has apparently set the bar for how real something is. But I disagree. To me, the litmus test for real should reflect different priorities. Namely, how well does something connect to lessons learned over generations, especially as they relate to climate and landscape, while still addressing our unique place in history? How well does it connect us to each other and to our ability to live richly varied lives in shared, interdependent proximity?

I’ve often heard the “Disneyland” accusation and it always surprises me. There is a strange cult of the authentic in the design community - a belief that designing within a historical framework is somehow a nostalgic illusion of the past. However, there is always some illusion in building. There is always some willful twisting of reality to achieve an artistic effect. I think it is hard to argue that traditional architecture is any less authentic than a modern building that stretches engineering to its limits in its denial of gravity or that shutters on the windows is less real than the “folded plane”. [1] In fact, I would say that the success of Disneyland, the ability of Disney to make money by charging people to inhabit a quasi-real place, actually helps the argument that not only do we need more great places, we need to make them relatable to humanity. Perhaps the Disneyland accusation is actually a complement?

To me, the definition of “real” has less to do with aesthetics and more to do with function. Does a place support the living of life? Does it nurture human activity? Are people able to thrive? In the vein of Chuck Marohn over at Strong Towns, is the place productive? Does it support and nurture value? These are the kinds of questions I think are worth asking. Aesthetics, form, typology, style - these are all important concepts but only as vehicles to support the higher goal of making places for humans. Places where people can thrive as they go about their daily lives. If I have the choice of thriving in Disneyland or suffering in the banality of soulless sprawl, to me the choice is clear.

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1. The folded plane, a ubiquitous feature of modern architecture, is the glorious application of a ceiling material on the wall at one end of the same ceiling (or vice versa with a wall material on the ceiling).  ↩