TRACES:

Graffiti, Skateboarding, and the Appropriation of Space

Introduction

The process began with the Thesis Poster. I cast a slab of cement and spray painted my desired text upon it. A set of permanent markers hung from the bottom of the poster, available for anyone to use. I encouraged anyone who engaged with the poster to use the markers and interact with it however they desired. My intention was to relinquish control and allow the “user” to change the poster without my influence. From drawings to text, people manipulated the poster how they saw fit. This resulted in a poster that reflected my desire to create something that is meant to change and where the power is in the user, not the designer.

The poster read as follows:

“The world around us is constantly changing. From the built environment to the realm of technology, life propels forward. So why does architectural discourse not reflect this? Why are buildings only ever discussed as they were designed and first constructed? What happens after the cement is poured and the drawing’s ink has dried? The use, or even disuse, of a building often conflicts with a designer’s original intent. A slanted wall becomes a skate park. A concrete slab becomes a graffiti artist’s canvas. Every design is in a constant state of flux and the approach towards its restoration and reuse should reflect this ever-changing nature. This thesis thus asks, how can the restoration of a building show a more fluid history of the structure? How can one highlight all the changes it has been through and allow room for more change to come? These questions will be tackled through the use of a case study building that has become abandoned and converted into a haven for graffiti artists. The hope is to use this visual medium to combat one’s assumptions of what should clearly be removed or hidden from a building’s history and to show that buildings constantly change. So it’s time to change with them.”

Research

What one typically thinks of as “graffiti” can be better described as “signature graffiti.” This trend is characterized by the use of one’s name or “tag” as the focal point of a work, stylizing the letters with varying levels of complexity, much like calligraphy. Due to this, a practitioner of graffiti is referred to as a “writer” and the act of putting graffiti on a surface is thus called “writing.” Within the graffiti subculture, there are several terms writers use that are specific to their craft. Some terms are commonplace across the U.S. and others are more region-specific. These words range from the more obvious shorthand, such as “graff” in reference to graffiti, to more colloquial/culture-specific terminology, such as the “throw up.” Along with terminology comes a sort of etiquette—a hierarchy of graffiti that relates both to the writer and their work. It is typically bad practice to cover someone else’s work with your own unless it is of a higher skill level. The more complex something is, the more right one has to place it over something more simple. Thus, a piece can cover a throw-up or “throwie” which can cover a simple tag. However, if one were to put a tag over someone’s piece or blockbuster, they may start some “beef” with that writer. Not all writers adhere to this etiquette, sometimes noting that the walls they write on were never theirs to begin with and, thus, it is not theirs to regulate what goes on it, but that is the general trend. Additionally, the hierarchy of works typically relates to a hierarchy of writers, with those starting out—referred to as “toys”—sitting at the bottom of the pyramid and more highly skilled writers—some achieving the title of “king” or “queen”—sitting at the top.

The following is a short selection of key terms used within Miami’s graffiti subculture:

Since the early ‘80s, penits have been an integral part of Miami’s graffiti culture. These typically abandoned buildings have served as safe havens for writers to practice their craft in relative seclusion and showcase their work to members of their own community and, at times, the community at large. Due to a lack of market interest in these buildings, there is a relatively low police presence, minimizing the risks that come with graffiti writing. In recent years, the number of active penits appear to have been declining, with many having been demolished or renovated.

The stadium sits along the water’s edge with a third of its seating standing directly above the water itself. It lies between the local marina and the Miami Rowing Club’s facilities which are directly adjacent to MAST Academy, a local magnet high school. In the immediate site surrounding the building is a large, nearly featureless parking lot which separates the structure from its neighbors. Though the stadium itself is technically closed to the public, the site will occasionally host various events, notably the annual boat show that is held in February and a few regattas hosted by the rowing club during the Spring. However, for the majority of the year, this parking lot remains empty.

The Miami Marine Stadium was designed by Cuban-born architect Hilario Candela and built in 1963. At the time of construction, its roof was the longest spanning concrete cantilever in the world. Originally named Commodore Ralph Monroe Marine Stadium, the building was initially intended as a grandstand for viewing speedboat and rowing races on the water. The inlet on which it sits was dredged and created specifically for this building, which also predates the marina and surrounding structures in this site. According to Candela, Virginia Key had actually been donated to the City of Miami by the Matheson family with the explicit purpose of creating a marine stadium for viewing water events. The structure became the first stadium that was purpose-built for powerboat racing in the United States. Soon after its inauguration, however, the stadium began to house floating concerts on the water and even came to host Easter Sunday Mass in the Spring. Many notable celebrities and politicians hosted events at the stadium, including a speech by President Richard Nixon, the filming of Elvis Presley’s film Clambake, and a Jimmy Buffet concert, who, along with Gloria Estefan, would eventually aid in the restoration efforts lead by Hilario Candela and the Friends of the Miami Marine Stadium.

As time passed, the city began losing interest in the stadium and it became neglected. In 1992, Hurricane Andrew devastated South Florida, particularly damaging the Homestead area. The city took this opportunity to condemn the stadium, claiming the hurricane had caused significant damage. After the city requested funds from FEMA with the intention of demolishing the supposedly structurally-unsound building, an engineering study was conducted which determined that the building suffered little to no damage from the hurricane and the damage that did exist was caused by years of severe neglect. As a result, the city did not collect the funds to demolish the stadium and abandoned the building, never officially reopening it. By 1997, graffiti writers found the building and began tagging it, slowly converting it into a penit. Today, nearly every inch of the structure is covered in graffiti. Close to thirty years after its condemnation, the stadium still remains structurally intact, save for some salvageable cracks in the concrete.

Though the stadium has most notably become home to graffiti writers, it has also become a popular venue for skateboarders. Until access became more difficult in recent years, many skaters would come to the building to skate on its undulating roof, taking in the unique view of the Miami skyline as they moved up and down the concrete slopes. Though the roof was a draw, it was not the only place skaters would frequent. Some skateboarders had managed to pour concrete ramps on site and manipulated the space to meet their own needs, skating on the existing ramps and shredding on cement blocks they placed on the ground level. Skaters and writers coexisted within the stadium, with skateboarders creating new surfaces for writers to work on and writers providing the left over spray cans that would form the inner support for some of the added ramps that were cast on the columns. They became the building’s new users in its era of abandonment.

Design

Drawing inspiration from Sekou Cooke’s lectures on Hip-Hop Architecture, I took “sampled” elements from the original stadium and manipulated them to serve each programmatic function. I utilized the building’s undulating, cantilevered roof as a primary system in my design. This sampled element was then rescaled, repositioned, and, at times, reshaped to create various spaces with a specific user in mind. I then used a secondary system drawn from the building’s columns and ramps to bridge the gap between certain elements and add some diversity within the project.

The project is made entirely of reinforced concrete, cast on site in the same vain as its adjacent structure. It is divided into three segments which sit along the water, aligned with the stadium. Each segment is connected by a 6-foot-wide path directly related to the 6-foot pathway that divides the lower third and upper two-thirds of the grandstand’s seating. Thus, the design has a similar relationship to the water as the stadium, with a portion always standing above the waterline. This connection to the water also allows for a temporal interaction with the structure that relates to the changing tides. For example, at low tide, a writer has an opportunity to engage with the project in a more secluded/private way, writing on its underside and remaining hidden from the broader public. As the tides rise, a skater can find themselves sheltered within the design, skating beneath the water line where the project dips down and technically being surrounded by water while remaining dry within the concrete surfaces.

I envision this project accompanying the stadium and being used alongside it. The original building would undergo some structural repairs and its seating would be fixed, but it would continue to be used by graffiti writers and skaters much as it is now. On occasion, the stadium would host events as it previously had, but when it is not being used for that purpose, it would be open to the public. My intention with this is to speak to the building’s entire timeline, recognizing that graffiti has become an integral part of its history without ignoring its original use. The accompanying design, then, would serve as a new reflection of this timeline: one whose intended users are the graffiti writers and skateboarders that have kept the stadium alive for the last few decades.

The sampled elements used to create the design were placed and manipulated in various ways to better meet the needs of the three user groups. Areas that were designed explicitly for graffiti were more vertically oriented with larger surfaces reminiscent of the standard flat walls writers are used to without being those standard walls. That which was intended for skateboarding focused more on lower inclines and smooth connections between object and ground plane, allowing for greater flow between elements and ample space to build momentum. Areas intended for parking were placed with ample room for cars to fit underneath or between elements.

Though each area was designed with specific programs in mind, there exists an ambiguity in their formation that leaves room for the user to dictate how it will function. Surfaces meant for skating can easily be used by writers and walls intended for writing can certainly be skated upon. Each surface is subject to the user.

The overall profile of the project is meant to sit within that of the stadium. If the stadium were to serve its original purpose of viewing boat races and other events on the water, in addition to being a center for graffiti writing, this move would allow for an unobstructed view of the water. Additionally, keeping the new project’s profile below that of its predecessor allows the design to serve as a complimentary element to the building rather than one which draws focus from it.

As the project moves further from the stadium, it begins to visually deviate from it. Its height decreases and the forms appear less like that of the original roof.

The bridges connecting each segment are inclined in such a way to allow enough room for rowers to pass underneath while carrying a boat on their shoulders or overhead.

The goal and hope of this project is to allow room for continual growth. Beyond just the ever-changing graffiti that will be written on these surfaces, I imagine the design’s users to appropriate it and change it as they see fit. Much in the same way they did in the stadium, I anticipate skateboarders may decide they need an extra ramp or surface to do tricks and moves for which my design may not currently allow. Perhaps a new user group I had not anticipated may come and claim this space for themselves in the future. I choose to relinquish my power as the architect, as all eventually must, to allow for the user to claim the design as their own. Everything is subject to change and that is exactly what I hope this project will do.

Why is a building almost always restored to its original design? Do buildings not change? Does the built environment not adapt? Or is only one era ever relevant in a building’s timeline? The moment an architect’s design has completed its construction, their power is relinquished to the user. They may adhere to the architect’s original intention but, unless the designer is actively monitoring the building and forcing people to use it a certain way, its users are free to do what they please.

The Miami Marine Stadium has seen a great deal of change. It began as a water sport venue and quickly grew to a multi-use event space. It hosted concerts, boxing matches, Catholic mass, political speeches, and powerboat races. However, as time passed, it became neglected and eventually abandoned. Soon, graffiti writers began to bring a new life to the building. It was once again a cultural hub, but not in the way it had previously been. Its walls became canvases and the stadium became the stage. In time, the skateboarders began to breathe their life into the space as well. New ramps were created and what was once a roof became a ground plane. The building adapted and transformed at the hands of its new users.

Restoration efforts have begun on the stadium but they intend to remove all the graffiti that has accumulated throughout its nearly 30 year “abandonment.” The plan is to restore the structure to how it had been on its opening day, save for a few “updates.” But why? Does the stadium not serve a new purpose? Is the graffiti not a part of its history? The structure has become recognized for its graffiti and skateboarding and stands as a new cultural landmark beyond what it was in the ‘60s. To erase those traces of change would be to erase its history.

The hope of this thesis was to create something that embraced that change. I wanted to show how one could highlight the timeline of a historic building with the intention of providing further growth. A building should not be stagnant or frozen in time. A building lives and grows and its restoration should reflect that. In this project, the original building is meant to stand as it currently does, save for some structural repairs and the addition of repaired grandstand seating. It is meant to continue to grow and to be open to graffiti writers and skaters to continue to use. The building would be accompanied by a new design that meets the needs of the stadium’s current users. I intended not to capitalize on graffiti writing’s “cool factor” by only allowing commissioned art by people who likely do not have a connection to this site. This design is meant for Miami writers and skateboarders to use and change as they desire. They have the control in how this design changes. And in time, perhaps someone new can come in and help it grow even further. This project is about adaptability and the claiming of space and how I feel restoration should reflect these notion. Buildings change. It’s time to change with them.