Pittsburgh's Canary Yellow
From my notes on America
My notes after visiting Pittsburgh:
The city feels naked. The weather, even with sunshine, is gloomy. The closed warehouses, the roads, the confusing blocs, the messy utility poles, the shops that close before people get out from work… I found it amusing that for alcohol, the liquor stores in which beers were sold were separate from the ones that sold wine. A city made for the 20th century and that seemed stuck in it.
There are very few cities in which the rust of time is visible. Pittsburgh is one of them.
Coal mining and steel production were the engines behind its glory, and the retreat of these industries left the city with a nostalgia for the dynamism they provided. It is impossible to walk around and not have an eerie feeling that something is missing, that the city was only made for constant restlessness and movement.
Art Deco is prominent in the city, even though it has strong French roots. It is one of the few architectural movements that successfully married functionality and a certain sense of beauty. The American version mostly takes inspiration from Ancient Egyptian art and mixes it with futuristic aesthetics. The inspiration from the temples, the intricate geometric lines, the glorification of perfect symmetry, and the presence of ancient symbols gave birth to noticeable and tasteful ornaments.
In the United States, Art Deco was almost a state-sponsored artistic movement. In the 1930s, President Franklin D. Roosevelt, with his Works Progress Administration (WPA), ordered the establishment of new public buildings across the country, which helped Art Deco architects and artists erect their projects.
Like Ancient Egyptian art, Art Deco symbolized a particular triumph and superiority. With its blessed geographical location, Pittsburgh embraced it and did not succumb to the temptations of regionalism, which was not surprising. The city was meant to be the machine behind the Gilded Age. Pittsburgh was meant to be a representation and a pillar for the next modern and powerful American spirit, for which progress and technological change are the force. It was its destiny.
From afar, I could see the majestic Gulf Tower competing with the more contemporary, shiny skyscrapers downtown. Art Deco, however, is extremely expensive, and it shows how Pittsburgh had the means and that its industrialists had the will.
The museums I visited boasted generous collections. Understanding the history of the city made me appreciate Andy Warhol. His Coca-Cola prints and Campbell's Soup paintings were simply modern versions of Still Life.
But what struck me was the Allegheny County Jail at 950 Second Avenue. A next door jail. One could almost see the rooms of the inmates. It was odd and fascinating.
Pittsburgh seemed frozen in a particular epoch.
It is an open archeological site for those who want to understand the beginnings of America's industrial and manufacturing empire. What makes an American unique if not his capacity to optimize anything he touches and build things from scratch, whatever they are? Isn’t that his essence?
The city has a certain grey atmosphere. Someone told me that it used to be worse because of the smog. I like it. It makes the Roberto Clemente Bridge look brighter. It's a yellow bridge—not a dandelion yellow, not a lemon yellow, not even a mustard yellow, but a delicate canary yellow. I could not help but keep staring at it.
In ancient symbolism, yellow is the color of immortality. It is associated with the sun and represents vitality. Eternity and high-spiritedness may be what Pittsburgh aspired to. I am trying to figure out if it still does. All I know is that it has a canary yellow bridge that shows it did.
To be fair, Pittsburgh has done a better job of reinventing itself than most midwestern cities. To my mind, only Cleveland and Indianapolis have done as well. To recover from the loss of its industrial infrastructure, Pittsburgh has turned itself into a high tech hub.
Pittsburgh reminds me of at least two of Italo Calvino’s “Invisible Cities.” First there’s Armilla, the city of pipes, which resembles the elaborate network of factories and industry that amply represent Pittsburgh’s industrial past. Then there’s Maurilia, the city that rebuilds itself not with brick but with the exchange of merchandise and becomes a center of commerce.
The way it’s described in this post puts me in mind of Esmeralda, a city “where cats, smugglers, illicit lovers, conspirators and mosquito chasing swallows cut arcs across roads, sewers and sky.”