The way in which a city is designed and redesigned is a process that can have the power to shape its dwellers’ lived experiences endlessly. The layout of a city can define the political, economic, racial, and age demographics— it can be restrictive or it can be inclusive, but its effectiveness in doing so depends largely upon the culture that inhabits the space. Through the comparison of its origins and current culture, it’s easy to see that New York City is a particularly paradoxical space. Its neatly designed grid plan feels coherent on paper, but somehow all of the order and neatness is completely lost in real life experiences.  There is no way to anticipate or ‘design’ the massive crowds of people, the honking horns, the hot fumes and odd smells—these are just effects of a city being lived in, or rather being brought to life. Though New York City’s plans were designed with intense organization, the city’s beautifully diverse peoples and culture are a direct refusal of those guidelines. And it is the contradiction and interaction of these clean, organized plans with the perfected disorder of its culture that makes New York City a perfect place for modernism to exist and to grow.

In his book “All That Is Solid Melts into Air,” Marshall Berman defines modernism to be “any attempt by modern men and women to become subjects as well as objects of modernization, to get a grip on the modern world and make themselves at home in it.” (pg. 5) Because of New York City’s ever-changing, fast-paced culture, its people are constantly subjected to and often forced to adapt to the changes that their environment throws at them. But in terms of architecture, this adaptability is much more difficult to achieve, especially with the modernist push for a mechanical approach. While New York City’s designs have latched on to and taken advantage of the technological advances that come with modern life—advances that have led to the redefinition of the city’s vertical, horizontal, and societal limits— the emphasis on the machine has also taken away some of the creative and personal value that makes architecture so interactive. Berman argues that in a modern world that centers itself around the mechanical, the problem arises that “with brilliant machines and mechanical systems playing all the leading roles…there is precious little for modern man to do except to plug in.” (pg. 27) Only when the people are able to interact with the technology and guide the machine towards the desired meaning and program of a space is architecture truly modern.

Though New York City represents an incredible amalgamation of so many backgrounds, styles, interests, etc., some aspects of its designs prove to be unrepresentative of the mix. The Flatiron Building, among so many other massive skyscrapers, is an example of the divide between the city’s culture and its design. It stands tall and proud in the middle of the city, claiming dominance, power over the people who cannot see it from the top. While in “Delirious New York” Koolhaas writes about the beauty of a skyscraper’s ability to bring you closer to the sky and natural light and take you away from the filth that congests the streets, the height and dysconnectivity of skyscrapers can create a cultural divide between the people of the city. Architects can become caught up competing to build the best, tallest, most unique building in the city that they often forget about the implications their creations could have on the people. Berman explains a deep need for communication and conversation, not only between the designer and the commissioner but also including the people of the city. A truly modern environment is one that transcends all political, social, and cultural values, which is not possible without conversation.

New York City is still often affected by the boundaries that were created at the birth. But as designers and communities together work toward a modernism that rejects the suppression of change and instead welcomes the participation of all of its people, the city—ever-changing as it is—can see its different assets as one beautifully complex array of possibility.