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photograph courtesy Bob Johnson
This is disingenuous. The lighting standards in Brooklyn Bridge Park are 35 foot-high telephone poles. Those at Maggie Daley are 50 foot-high tripods. At Brooklyn Bridge Park, many of the poles are set along the back, against an expressway that forms the parks perimeter. At Maggie Daley, the standards are omnipresent, their beady light-bulb orbs always peering over your shoulder like the eyes of a painting that follow you across the room. They march through the park like an invading band of colossi bent on conquest - over half as tall as the actual Wonder of the Ancient World Colossus of Rhodes. Looking up at the soaring, man-spreading height, the voice of Shelly may even seem to echo in your ear . . .
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!
But, you may ask, won't the trees eventually overtake and tame the lighting standards? You should live so long - literally.
Next: Mistah Burnham—He Dead - Michael Van Valkenburgh Rethinks the Chicago Lakefront Park, Part III
Previously: Strongest at the Corners - Michael Van Valkenburgh Rethinks the Chicago Lakefront Park, Part II