Out-of-District Experience: New Orleans, Louisiana

Toward the end of his career, Pablo Picasso lamented that he had stopped being creative and was merely “doing Picasso.” New Orleans has followed suit sometime in the past fifty years, becoming the image of the idea of itself. That doesn’t mean the jazz or the culture has disappeared, just that a simulacrum of itself has been interpolated into the French Quarter in such a way that a visitor can’t get a sense of the beast for all the taxidermy. I only had a morning to spend in the area due to nuptials elsewhere, but my perception was that there was a very livable area there, but what I saw did not inspire me to live there. I’ll need to go back and give the whole city a better look.

Overall, the built environment met promises that the city is one of the most pleasant in the country. It is a nice neighborhood, with comfortable public streets, interesting art, and actual private residences. It’s quite dense, with a FAR of at least 2.5 and narrow fronts, the sort of development that suits long-term complexity. Add to that a dizzying amount of level of detail in the ironwork on some of the buildings. Moving northwest from the river, the neighborhood becomes simpler and quieter, much more relaxing. Although the buildings here were less decorated, they seemed more comfortable; they are frugal yet more interesting.

There is a greater diversity of housing units on Burgundy Street that keeps the streetwall strong while also breaking up the boxiness by not having uninterrupted lines of porches and walls. After a while, the of iron flowers on the ritzier avenues begin to seem decadent and self-centered. The ornament liquefies without a better sense of scale, going nowhere and resulting in a saccharine blandeur. It’s still very nice; just don’t look too hard.

Similarly, there is an unsettling dissonance to the cultural assets.  Along Bourbon Street, the blocks present a string of bars and gift shops punctuated only with the occasional hotel. The deliriousness of the whole situation is encapsulated, I believe, by the picture at right with razor wire draped with years worth of beads. And although the iron and neon mix well, it is all just a little to much like itself, with no surprises. One family owns most of the bars and restaurants on Bourbon Street, but they keep the salons varied, knowing that for people to come to New Orleans, it has to be New Orleans. Consequently, there is some ambiguity in the state of the area. Good local musicians still play there, and the architecture is still good at its core, but there’s vinyl over the couches, ya know?

Jackson Square, which PPS rates as one of the best spaces in the United States, sports a ring of dignified historic structures around the edges and pedestrianized streets, but ultimately doesn’t live up to the hype. The quality of the side spaces was very good, as demonstrated by the multitudes of tourists wandering around. The formal garden itself, however, was largely unoccupied, blasted by the sun – and also happens to contain the statue of a genocidal megalomaniac.