A demolition crew came in and, before any effective
response could be mounted, the roadside was gone. To some, it was just a gas station, functional, aesthetically invisible, even ugly. To others, it was a rare and interesting example of mid-century commercial architecture, sort of a space age, circular plan gas station visible from all angles. Now that it’s gone,the ironies of this turn of events and the philosophical questions it raises
are worth examining because they bring home a few important questions .Like everything else, historical preservation has a history, and its animating
ideas have evolved as well. I’ve often wondered what historians 150 years from now will have to say about
the 20th century. The ongoing transformation of our landscape around the private car , and the low-density commuter suburbs made possible by it , may well be the big story of the 20th century and the current discussion of a loss of “sense of place” amid the galloping homogenization of life suggests that historians may well start by looking, so to speak, in our collective garage.
Gas stations streamlined and standardized long time ago came on the scene. They were garish, hokey, and sometimes brilliantly designed. Tourists come to see it and buy postcards. I don’t imagine much of this went through the mind of the demolition crew.
It was all in a day’s work, like the demolition of the concrete Art Moderne garage last year. Providence will survive the loss of a roadside rarity and some will say we’re the better for it – even if, for now, the grand plan for its demolition was to make way for a parking lot. It became one of historical artifacts.Not all old buildings are historically significant and not all of them should be
saved. But we are the poorer for bypassing discussion and reflection on whether a place – even a gas station – matters.

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 15.02.2010

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