On the Waterfront

I've been in Portland for almost two months now, and I've come to really admire this place. I've always loved Portland, of course, but I haven't actually lived here for ten years. When I cam back from either Eugene or Japan it was only for a period of days. I was back in the States for two weeks over year ago, but I also split my time between Washington and Eugene. Portland, then, has always been my hometown, but it got more and more abstract the longer I was away. I often introduced myself with something like "I'm Joe, and I'm from Portland," but that always felt a little inaccurate, as I'd never lived here on my own.

Of the many things that I've begun to really appreciate, is Portland's abundance of public space. In particular, Waterfront Park and the Esplanade on the Willamette's east bank. It's remarkably pleasant. Really, that's the best word for it. Pleasant. Even the huge, industrial looking bridges are pleasant.



There seems to be an aesthetic at work in Portland where no one accepts any sort of dichotomy between niceness and functionality. the Hawthorne Bridge is, indeed, a massive chunk of metal that opens up over a river. It is also fairly nice looking. It's not an iconic beauty the way the Golden Gate is, but it is far away from an eyesore. It's all the more impressive to me now, because I remember some years ago when it did not look so good- it was a rust-strewn thing that was all function with no thought of beauty.

The Broadway, Fremont, Steel, Ross Island, and St. John's bridges are also attractive urban features, and, looking at them, I sort of wondered why anyone would make a bridge like the Burnside and Morrison bridges, which are mostly a flat hunks of concrete stretching over the river. The other bridges are just as functional as these, and far more attractive. Now I'm wondering, why on earth would anyone make such a massive urban feature that wasn't at least as nice looking as, say, the Hawthorne Bridge? Fortunately, the Hawthorne seems representative of a lot of Portland's urban planning: Not revolutionary or aesthetically stunning, but still assembled with forethought, and with the conviction that the major landmarks of an urban center should not be ugly.



Above is Portland's memorial for the Japanese-Americans who were interred during World War II. I think it works as a memorial because it is fairly understated, and because it doubles as a usable public space. When I think about memorials that "work" I often think that less is more. The Vietnam Veterans Memorial, I think, is a model of memorials- it is stark, simple, and conveys its message through its structure and aesthetics. When I was in Hiroshima, I was impressed with the Peace Park not only because of what it said, but also because of what it was. The Peace Park itself made Hiroshima a more pleasant city, a better place to live. It memorialized, yes, and made the present pretty nice as well. Portland's Japanese internment memorial does that, as well.

In contrast, Eugene has its own memorial commemorating Japanese internment, and its a failure as a memorial and as a public space. Nestled in an out of the way spot near the Hult Auditorium, it contains far too much in the way of statuary, things carved into rocks, quotations, lists, and odds and ends. There is quite simply too much in Eugene's memorial, and I could not imagine wanting to, say, sit in that public space and read a book. An expanse of rock and cherry trees, I think, is far better.



Part of me still wants to call them "sakura." When I was thinking to myself, I kept using the term "sakura blossoms" in my head, even though I knew the term was redundant. I was also on the Waterfront on Sunday, and was extremely pleased to see all of the people taking advantage of the space and the beautiful trees. There were a few performers out, and a guy on stilts dressed as a frog made me wish I had my camera.



When I was a kid, there were plenty of summer days that I spent jumping around in Salmon Street Springs. The fountain invites it- there are no obstructions around it, the spray of the water changes frequently, and as long as it remains unfenced there will probably always be kids, dogs, and uninhibited adults jumping around in it. It's still a bit too cold to see sweaty Portlanders jumping about in it, but come summer there will definitely be lots of them.

Really, how cool is that? How cool is it that there's a place in the city that's basically a miniature waterpark? Supercool! The thing's awesome, and if they ever put up a sign that says something like "No Cavorting In Fountain," I will gleefully ignore it.



The Esplanade on the east bank of the Willamette is still new to me. I know that it's been in place for a while, but it wasn't here back when I was a resident. I've come to really like it, especially because it's so immensely bike friendly. I remember when the east bank of the Willamette river was the dingy side, the side that paled in comparison to the west bank's Waterfront Park. Portland, to it's credit, is not a place that lets its dingy places stay dingy. They've fixed up the place wonderfully, and I quite like metal-and-concrete aesthetic.

I have just one issue with the Esplanade, though: it's named after Vera Katz.

I don't have any problem with Vera Katz particularly. Everything I've heard about her says that she was a perfectly fine mayor. My issue is that I think it's kind of weird naming public structures after leaders who are still alive. The fact that there's an ugly bronze statue of her nestled into the otherwise nice space makes it worse. States of people who are still living, I think, are sort of icky. I know it's an unfair comparison, but I'm reminded of Kim Il-Sung, who unveiled a huge bronze of himself on his sixtieth birthday. Vera Katz isn't Kim Il-Sung, but the naming of the place, and the immortalizing of someone who is still quite mortal, makes me feel sort of icky inside.

The Esplanade, though, is something that I've come to love as a bicyclist and as someone who just likes to wander about. Biking home a few nights ago, there were several people in its nooks and lit patches, some looking out at the glowing city across the water, and others making out on benches and in shadows. That's a fairly good use of public space there, if I do say so myself.