by Alex Marshall, Editor, Spotlight on the Region
If you take the Circle Line Cruise around Manhattan Island, as I did the other day with some out of town guests, you'll pass under this giant bridge built on stone arches in the Harlem River that looks like it wandered in from the Roman Empire. The guide might tell you its original purpose was to bring in water from the Croton Reservoir upstate. Built as part of the city's first public water system that opened in 1842, this "High Bridge" is the oldest crossing in the city.
You can see photos of this majestic and ancient-looking structure in Stanley Greenberg's latest book, Waterworks: A Photographic Journey through New York's Hidden Water System (Princeton Architectural Press 2003). Greenberg, author of Invisible New York, spent a decade photographing the many reaches of the city's water system, from the pristine shores of dammed lakes in the Catskill Mountains, to the deep reaches inside the three football fields-long "Valve Chamber," part of the city's new Water Tunnel Number Three, which lies 250 feet beneath a park in the Bronx.
Along the way, he battled, and at times was befriended by, city officials at the Department of Environmental Protection who control access to the city's water system. After being allowed in and closed out repeatedly, he eventually gained access to the entire system, he said. He finished the book in early 2001. Since 9/11, as I learned from my own requests last year, the DEP has shut down virtually all public access to the system. Greenberg's photos remain as eerie reminders of this most vital, and fully public, component of our city.
Greenberg used a large 4"x5" format, Ansel Adams-style camera that produces black and white photos of exceptional clarity. He used all natural light. Inside tunnels and chambers with little light, he would allow exposures for as long as 30 minutes.
The photos in the book, with their reliance on shades of gray and simple composition, do not all leap out at the viewer. But most gradually engage one in a way that goes beyond the quick, visual thrill. Many, like the photo of the High Bridge striding across the Harlem River, seem to come from another age or time. Most of the components of the original Croton system were built of heavy stone, and these dams, bridges and retaining walls have a craggy beauty.
Greenberg's photos of the newer parts of the system still under construction, such as the tunnels and chambers of Water Tunnel Number Three, have a different feel. These photos of massive tunnels ready to be lined with concrete, shortly after the Tunnel Boring Machine had left them, have a 1920s, industrial age solidity to them that also seems from another era, given the present preoccupation with digital bits and Internet images.
Greenberg spoke recently at the South Street Seaport, which consistently has exceptional speakers at its lectures. He supplemented slides of his photos with explanations of what they were and how they functioned.
Greenberg approaches the city's water system from both an aesthetic and an intellectual perspective.
"To take a picture, I need to do a lot of research so I know what I'm photographing," Greenberg said in a response to a question about why he did what he did. "But when I get there, it's purely aesthetic."
The book also includes an excellent historical essay on the development of the city's water system written by Mathew Gandy, author of Concrete and Clay, from which the essay is taken. As Gandy says in the Introduction, the city's water system "now includes nineteen collecting reservoirs, two city water tunnels, the world's largest storage tanks, and nearly six thousand miles of gravity fed water mains. This vast network delivers 1.3 billion gallons of water daily to nine million people."
In other words, the water system makes the city and region go. Along with the trains, sewage and stormwater systems, it is a vital component of the city's circulatory system, enabling so many people to live and work in a very small area. Every time we drink a cup of water, we pay homage to our grandparents who had the fortitude to build public works on a massive scale. I hope whether it's a few more tunnels under the Hudson, a new subway along 2nd Avenue, or a high speed train to Washington, such days of massive sustained development of infrastructure are not behind us.
If you take the Circle Line Cruise around Manhattan Island, as I did the other day with some out of town guests, you'll pass under this giant bridge built on stone arches in the Harlem River that looks like it wandered in from the Roman Empire. The guide might tell you its original purpose was to bring in water from the Croton Reservoir upstate. Built as part of the city's first public water system that opened in 1842, this "High Bridge" is the oldest crossing in the city.
You can see photos of this majestic and ancient-looking structure in Stanley Greenberg's latest book, Waterworks: A Photographic Journey through New York's Hidden Water System (Princeton Architectural Press 2003). Greenberg, author of Invisible New York, spent a decade photographing the many reaches of the city's water system, from the pristine shores of dammed lakes in the Catskill Mountains, to the deep reaches inside the three football fields-long "Valve Chamber," part of the city's new Water Tunnel Number Three, which lies 250 feet beneath a park in the Bronx.
Along the way, he battled, and at times was befriended by, city officials at the Department of Environmental Protection who control access to the city's water system. After being allowed in and closed out repeatedly, he eventually gained access to the entire system, he said. He finished the book in early 2001. Since 9/11, as I learned from my own requests last year, the DEP has shut down virtually all public access to the system. Greenberg's photos remain as eerie reminders of this most vital, and fully public, component of our city.
Greenberg used a large 4"x5" format, Ansel Adams-style camera that produces black and white photos of exceptional clarity. He used all natural light. Inside tunnels and chambers with little light, he would allow exposures for as long as 30 minutes.
The photos in the book, with their reliance on shades of gray and simple composition, do not all leap out at the viewer. But most gradually engage one in a way that goes beyond the quick, visual thrill. Many, like the photo of the High Bridge striding across the Harlem River, seem to come from another age or time. Most of the components of the original Croton system were built of heavy stone, and these dams, bridges and retaining walls have a craggy beauty.
Greenberg's photos of the newer parts of the system still under construction, such as the tunnels and chambers of Water Tunnel Number Three, have a different feel. These photos of massive tunnels ready to be lined with concrete, shortly after the Tunnel Boring Machine had left them, have a 1920s, industrial age solidity to them that also seems from another era, given the present preoccupation with digital bits and Internet images.
Greenberg spoke recently at the South Street Seaport, which consistently has exceptional speakers at its lectures. He supplemented slides of his photos with explanations of what they were and how they functioned.
Greenberg approaches the city's water system from both an aesthetic and an intellectual perspective.
"To take a picture, I need to do a lot of research so I know what I'm photographing," Greenberg said in a response to a question about why he did what he did. "But when I get there, it's purely aesthetic."
The book also includes an excellent historical essay on the development of the city's water system written by Mathew Gandy, author of Concrete and Clay, from which the essay is taken. As Gandy says in the Introduction, the city's water system "now includes nineteen collecting reservoirs, two city water tunnels, the world's largest storage tanks, and nearly six thousand miles of gravity fed water mains. This vast network delivers 1.3 billion gallons of water daily to nine million people."
In other words, the water system makes the city and region go. Along with the trains, sewage and stormwater systems, it is a vital component of the city's circulatory system, enabling so many people to live and work in a very small area. Every time we drink a cup of water, we pay homage to our grandparents who had the fortitude to build public works on a massive scale. I hope whether it's a few more tunnels under the Hudson, a new subway along 2nd Avenue, or a high speed train to Washington, such days of massive sustained development of infrastructure are not behind us.
@RegionalPlan