I grew up in a family of social scientists, but I was the weird child who drew.
我成长在一个社会学家组成的家庭中, 而我是个怪小孩,我喜欢画画。
(Laughter)
(笑声)
From making sketches of the models in my mom's Sears catalog ... to a bedroom so full of my craft projects that it was like my own personal art gallery, I lived to make. I don't think anyone in my family was surprised when I became an architect. But to be honest with you, the real foundation of the architect I became was not laid in that bedroom art gallery but by the conversations around my family's dinner table. There were stories of how people lived and connected to one another, from the impact of urban migration on a village in Zambia to the complex health care needs of the homeless in the streets of San Francisco.
我先是画妈妈的西尔斯百货 宣传单里的模特, 后来我的卧室里堆满了我的手工作品, 那里就像我的私人画廊。 我是为创作而生的。 所以当我后来成为了一名建筑设计师, 我家人一点也不觉得奇怪。 但老实说, 让我成为建筑设计师的真正原因 并没有在我卧室的画廊里, 而是在我与家人的餐桌对话中。 我们讨论了人们如何生活, 如何与人交往, 从城市移民对赞比亚 一个小村子带来的冲击, 到旧金山街头的流浪汉 对于医疗的复杂需求。
Now, it would be fair if you're looking over at your seatmate and wondering, "What the hell does that have to do with architecture?" Well, all of these stories involved space and how it did or didn't accommodate us. The fact is, we share some of our deepest connections in physical space. And our stories play out, even in this crazy age of texting and tweeting, in physical space. Unfortunately, architecture hasn't done a great job of telling all of our stories equally. Too often, we see the building of monuments like the Gherkin or even Trump Tower ...
我知道, 在座的各位现在也许会面面相觑, 心想,“这些事情 跟建筑设计有什么关系?” 事实上,这些故事都跟空间有关, 关于这些空间到底适不适合所有人。 事实上, 我们会在物理空间中 共享我们内心深处的联系。 我们的故事, 即便在这个充斥着 短信和推特的疯狂年代, 也还是会在物理世界中上演。 遗憾的是,建筑设计师们 在讲故事的时候 并不是很公平。 大部分时间,我们看到的是 像“腌黄瓜”楼这样的纪念碑, 甚至特朗普大厦……
(Laughter)
(笑声)
that tell the story of the haves rather than the have-nots. Throughout my career, I've actively resisted the practice of building monuments to certain peoples' stories -- usually white, male, rich -- and bulldozing other peoples' stories -- usually people of color from low-income communities. I've tried to create a practice that is rooted in elevating the stories of those who have most often been silenced. That work -- it's been a mission in spatial justice.
这些建筑讲的是富人的故事, 而不是穷人的。 在我的职业生涯中, 我一直在拒绝那些 为特定人群的成就 建纪念碑的工作—— 通常是白人、男性、富裕阶层—— 这样的工作会掩盖其他人的成就, 尤其是那些生活在低收入社群的 有色人种。 我曾尝试过进行一次实践, 初衷是要讲述那些沉默的、 无法为自己发声的人的故事。 这项工作 是一种实现空间公平的使命。
(Applause)
(掌声)
Now, spatial justice means that we understand that justice has a geography, and that the equitable distribution of resources, services and access is a basic human right. So what does spatial justice look like? Well, I'd like to share a story with you.
空间公平,意味着我们明白 公平是有地理学意义的, 意味着资源、服务 和获取方式的公平分配 是一项基本人权。 那空间公平的现状是什么样的呢? 接下来我想分享一个故事。
For years, I've been working in the historically African-American neighborhood of Bayview Hunters Point in San Francisco, on a plot of land that once held a power plant. Back in the '90s, a community group led by mothers who lived in the public housing on the hill above the plant fought for its closure. They won. The utility company finally tore it down, cleaned the soil and capped most of the site with asphalt so that the clean soil wouldn't blow away.
数年来, 我一直在位于旧金山湾景猎人角的 非裔美国人社区工作, 那里以前曾经有个电厂。 在 90 年代, 由住在电厂附近小山上的一群母亲 发起的一个社区团体 正在为关闭电厂而奔走。 她们成功了。 公共事业公司推倒了电厂, 清理了土地, 并在原地铺上了沥青, 以防止尘土被吹走。
Sounds like a success story, right? Well, not so fast. You see, because of various issues like land entitlements, lease agreements, etc., the land actually couldn't be redeveloped for at least five to 10 years. What that meant is that this community that had been living near a power plant for decades, now had 30 acres of asphalt in their backyard. To put that in context for you, 30 acres is equal to about 30 football fields. Now, the utility company didn't want to be the bad guy here. Recognizing that they owed the community, they actually put out a call for designers to propose temporary uses for this site, hoping to turn it into a community benefit rather than blight.
听起来是个成功的事件,对吧? 别那么快下定论。 因为土地权利、租约 等一系列的问题, 这片土地至少 在 5-10 年间无法重新开发。 这就意味着,这个社区的居民 在电厂旁边生活了数十年, 如今只是在后院 拥有了 30 英亩沥青地。 为了方便大家理解, 30 英亩差不多 有 30 个足球场那么大。 公共事业公司并不想做坏人。 他们意识到自己对社区有亏欠, 于是召集了设计师 征集这片地的临时实用方案, 希望用这片地造福社区, 而不是为社区增添负担。
I'm part of the diverse team of designers that responded to that call, and for the last four years, we've been collaborating with those mothers and other residents, as well as local organizations and the utility company. We've been experimenting with all types of events to try and address issues of spatial justice. Everything from job training workshops to an annual circus to even a beautiful, new shoreline trail. In the four years that we've been operational, over 12,000 people have come and done something on this site that we hope has transformed their relationship to it. But lately, I'm starting to realize that events are not enough.
我是这支多样化设计师团队中的一员, 我们接手了这项工作, 在过去 4 年间, 我们跟这些母亲 还有其他居民, 以及当地组织和 公共事业公司展开了合作。 我们举办了各式各样的活动, 尝试解决空间公平问题—— 从提供职业培训讲座 到年度马戏表演, 甚至修筑了一条漂亮的、 全新的沿海小道。 在我们开展项目的 4 年间, 超过 12000 人来到这个地方, 做出了自己的贡献, 我们希望能够改变 他们同这块地的关系。 但是后来, 我开始意识到光有活动还不够。
A few months ago, there was a community meeting in this neighborhood. The utility company was finally ready to talk concretely about long-term redevelopment. That meeting was kind of a disaster. There was a lot of yelling and anger. People asked things like, "If you're going to sell it to a developer, wouldn't they just build luxury condos like everyone else?" And "Where has the city been?" "Why aren't there more jobs and resources in this neighborhood?"
几个月前, 社区举办了一次会议。 公共事业公司终于准备好要商讨 长期重建计划。 然而,那次会议简直就是场灾难—— 全程充满了愤怒与咆哮。 人们问了各种问题,比如 “如果你们把它卖给开发商, 他们难道不会像其他人一样 盖上豪华公寓楼吗?” “市政府都在干什么?” “为什么不能给这个社区 提供更多的就业机会和资源?”
It was not that our events had failed to bring joy. But in spite of that, there was still pain here. Pain from a history of environmental injustice that left many industrial uses in this neighborhood, leaving residents living near toxic waste and, literally, shit. There's pain from the fact that this zip code still has one of the lowest per capita income, highest unemployment and highest incarceration rates in a city which tech giants like Twitter, Airbnb and Uber call home. And those tech companies -- hm -- they've actually helped to trigger a gentrification push that is rapidly redefining this neighborhood, both in terms of identity and population.
这种结果并不意味着 我们组织的活动没能带来快乐。 但是问题是,痛苦依然还在。 痛苦来源于环境不公正的历史 为社区遗留了很多工业问题, 留下的居民生活在 充斥着有毒废弃物的环境中, 基本上就等于生活在垃圾堆中。 痛苦来源于一个事实, 这个区域仍然是人均收入最低、 失业率最高、 监禁率最高的地区之一, 它就位于推特、爱彼迎、优步 这些科技巨头的故乡。 而这些科技公司呢, 呵呵, 他们实际上助推了 中产阶级化的过程, 从自我认同和人口两方面 迅速重新定义了这个社区。
Now let me pause for a moment to talk about gentrification. I suspect for a lot of us, it's kind of like a dirty word. It's become synonymous with the displacement of poor residents from their neighborhood by wealthier newcomers. If you've ever been displaced, then you know the agony of losing a place that held your story. And if you haven't experienced this, then I'm going to ask you to try and imagine your way into it right now. Think about what it would be like to find your favorite local spot, a place where you often went and hung out with the old-timers or your friends, had vanished. And then you get home, and you find a letter from your landlord, saying that your rent's been doubled. The choice to stay -- it's not yours to make. You no longer belong in your home. And know that this feeling you're feeling right now, it would be the same regardless of whether or not the person who harmed you meant to do so. Developer Majora Carter once said to me, "Poor people don't hate gentrification. They just hate that they rarely get to hang around long enough to enjoy its benefits."
我们暂且把这个话题放一边, 先来聊聊中产阶级化。 我猜对我们大部分人而言, 这是个贬义词。 它意味着贫穷的当地居民 被富有的外来者 挤出了社区。 如果你曾经无家可归过, 那你一定明白,失去 承载你故事的地方的痛苦。 如果你没有经历过这些, 那我现在就请你们尝试着想象一下。 想想你家附近, 你最爱去的一个地方, 你经常去那儿跟一些老人家 或者朋友聊天, 而这地方突然消失了。 当你回到家, 发现房东给你留了一封信, 告诉你房租要翻倍。 你根本无权选择 要不要留下来。 你不再属于这个家。 记住,无论伤害你们的人 是有意或无意, 你们现在的感受本身 是没有任何区别的。 开发商马乔拉·卡特 有次跟我说, “穷人并不痛恨中产阶级化。 他们痛恨的是没有办法长期享受 它带来的好处。”
Why is it that we treat culture erasure and economic displacement as inevitable? We could approach development with an acknowledgment of past injustices -- find value not only in those new stories but the old ones, too. And make a commitment to build people's capacity to stay -- to stay in their homes, to stay in their communities, to stay where they feel whole.
为什么我们认为文化消除 和经济迁移是不可避免的? 我们可以通过了解 历史上的不公正现象 来寻求发展—— 不仅从新故事中寻找价值, 也要关注老故事。 要承诺让人们居者有其屋—— 让他们留在自己家里, 留在自己的社区, 留在那些让自己觉得完整的地方。
But to do this rethink, it requires looking at those past injustices and the pain and grief that is interwoven into them. And as I started to reflect on my own work, I realized that pain and grief have been recurring themes. I heard it early on in the Bayview Hunters Point project when a man named Daryl said, "We've always been set aside like an island -- a no-man's-land." I also heard it in Houston, when I was working on a project with day laborers. And as Juan told me stories of being robbed of his wages many times on the corner in which he stood every day to earn a living to support his family, he asked, "Why can't anyone see the sacredness of this site?"
但是要做到重新思考, 需要我们回顾历史上的不公正现象, 正视交织其中的痛苦和悲伤。 当我开始思考我的工作, 我意识到痛苦和悲伤 是反复出现的主题。 这种情况早在 湾景猎人角项目的时候就出现过。 当时一位叫达里尔的男士说, “我们总是像一座无人孤岛一样 被放逐。” 同样的话我也在休斯顿听到过, 当时我在跟一群上白班的体力劳动者 合作完成一个项目。 胡安告诉我, 他的工资被抢劫了许多次, 就在他每天劳动的街角, 他在那儿辛苦劳动,为了养家糊口。 他问我, “为什么就没有人觉得 这个角落也是神圣的呢?”
You know, you've seen the pain, too. From campaigns around statue removals in Charlottesville and New Orleans ... to towns that have lost their industrial lifeblood and are now dying, like Lorain, Ohio and Bolton, England. We often rush to remake these places, thinking that we can ease their pain. But in our boundless desire to do good, to get past all of our mistakes, to build places that hold possibility, we often maintain a blissful ignorance of a landscape filled with a very long trail of broken promises and squelched dreams. We are building on top of brokenness. Is it any wonder that the foundations cannot hold?
其实你们也见证过这种痛苦。 从夏洛茨维尔和新奥尔良的 雕像清除运动, 到那些失去了工业命脉 走向衰亡的城镇, 比如俄亥俄州的洛雷恩 和英格兰的博尔顿。 我们经常急于重建这些地方, 认为我们可以抚平人们的伤痛。 然而我们怀揣着无限的行善欲, 想纠正我们的所有错误, 打造充满可能性的地点, 却常常对一片充满了破碎的承诺 和被压制的梦想的风景保持着 一种幸福的无知。 我们是在一片废墟上搞建设。 有没有人想过 用废墟作地基可能不稳?
Holding space for pain and grief was never part of my job description as an architect -- after all, it's not expedient, focused on beauty, and hell, even requested by my clients. But I've seen what happens when there's space for pain. It can be transformational.
作为建筑设计师,维持一个 充满痛苦和悲伤的空间 并不是我的工作范畴, 毕竟,这不是权宜之计, 也并不专注于美感—— 更不会有客户提出这样的要求。 但是我知道如果存在 能够容纳痛苦的空间意味着什么, 它具有转变的力量。
Returning to our story, when we first started working in the neighborhood, one of the first things we did was go out and interview the activists who had led the fight to close the plant. We consistently heard and felt from them a sense of impending loss. The neighborhood was already changing, even back then. People were leaving or dying of old age, and with those departures, stories were being lost. To those activists, no one was going to know the amazing things that had happened in this community, because to everyone on the outside, it was the ghetto. At worst, a place of violence; at best, a blank slate. Neither was true, of course. So my colleagues and I, we reached out to StoryCorps. And with their support, and that of the utility company, we built a listening booth on our site. And we invited the residents to come and have their stories recorded for posterity. After a few days of recording, we held a listening party where we played clips, much like what you hear on NPR every Friday morning.
回到我们的故事, 我们刚开始在社区展开工作的时候, 做的第一件事 就是去找那些 牵头关闭电厂的活动者们。 我们不断从他们那里听到和感受到 一种即将失去的感觉。 社区已经在改变, 即便在当时也是。 人们离开或者逝去, 这些离别也导致了故事的失传。 对于那些活动家而言, 没有人知道在这个社区 发生的美妙的事情, 因为对于外界的人而言, 这里只是个贫民区。 往差了说,是个充满暴力的地方; 往好了说,是一片空白之地。 当然,这两种说法都不对。 于是我和同事们联系了 StoryCorps(故事团:记录和 分享美国民间故事的非盈利机构)。 在他们和公共事业公司的支持下, 我们在场地内搭建了一个小录音间。 我们邀请住户 把他们的故事录下来,留给后代。 在录了几天之后, 我们举行了一场“倾听派对”, 并播放了那些录音片段, 就像你在周五早上 听到的全国公共广播一样。
That party -- it was one of the most amazing community meetings I've ever been a part of. In part because we didn't just talk about joy but also pain. Two stories that I remember well -- AJ talked about what it was like to grow up in the neighborhood. There was always a kid to play with. But he also spoke with sadness of what it was like to first be stopped and questioned by a police officer when he was 11. GL also talked about the kids, and the ups and downs of the experience of living in this neighborhood, but he also spoke with pride of some of the organizations that had sprung up to provide support and empowerment. He wanted to see more of that. By holding space to first express pain and grief, we were then able to brainstorm ideas for a site -- amazing ideas that then became the seeds of what we did over the next four years.
那个派对, 是我参加过的最棒的 社区见面会之一。 一部分原因在于, 我们不光讨论快乐, 也在谈论痛苦。 有两个故事我记得很清楚, AJ 讲述了他是如何在社区长大的。 总有小伙伴陪他玩。 但他也分享了自己的悲伤, 就是他 11 岁那年, 第一次被警察拦住, 接受盘问。 GL 谈到了小伙伴们, 还有在社区生活的酸甜苦辣, 但是他也骄傲地讲到 那些如雨后春笋般出现的组织, 如何为他们提供援助,赋予他们权利。 他希望这样的事情越多越好。 我们保留住这些最初用来 帮助人们表达痛苦和悲伤的空间, 之后才可以让大家针对 如何来建设这个地方各抒己见, 并以此作为我们接下来 4 年的工作基础。
So why the radically different meeting now? Well ... the pain and grief woven into these spaces was not created in a day. Healing also takes time. After all, who here thinks you can go to therapy just once and be cured?
为何现在的见面会完全不同了呢? 我觉得, 这些地方的痛苦和悲伤 不是一天形成的。 治愈它也需要时间。 在座的各位有没有人 去看一次医生,病就被治好的?
(Laughter)
(笑声)
Anyone? I didn't think so. In retrospect, I wish that we had held more listening sessions, not just joyful events. My work's taken me all over the world, and I have yet to set foot in a place where pain didn't exist and the potential for healing was absent. So while I've spent my career honing my skills as an architect, I realize that I'm now also a healer.
有吗? 我觉得没有。 现在看来, 我当初应该举办更多的分享会, 而不仅仅组织快乐的活动。 因为工作的原因,我走遍了全世界, 每个地方都有痛苦, 但每个地方也都有被治愈的潜力。 于是我在磨练自己 作为建筑设计师技能的同时, 意识到自己也是个治愈者。
I suppose this is the point in the talk where I should be telling you those five steps to healing, but I don't have the solution -- yet. Just a path. That being said, there are a few things I have learned along the way.
演讲进行到这里, 我想我应该告诉大家, 治愈分为哪五步, 但其实我还没有找到解决方法, 暂时没有。 只有一个大方向。 就是说, 至少,我在这个过程中 学到了一些东西。
First -- we cannot create cities for everyone unless we're first willing to listen to everyone. Not just about what they hope to see built in the future but also about what has been lost or unfulfilled. Second -- healing is not just for "those people." For those of us with privilege, we have to have a reckoning with our own guilt, discomfort and complicity. As non-profit leader Anne Marks once observed, "Hurt people hurt people; healed people heal people." And third -- healing is not about the erasure of pain. We often have a tendency to want to put a clean slate over our pain, much like that asphalt on the soil in Bayview Hunters Point. But it doesn't work that way. Healing is about acknowledging pain and making peace with it.
首先, 除非我们愿意倾听每个人的需求, 否则将无法建造 适合每一个人的城市。 不仅仅是他们希望看到的未来, 还有他们曾经失去 或者没被满足的需求。 其次, 治愈不仅仅是为了“那一部分人”。 对于我们当中那些有特权的人, 我们必须针对自己的过错, 不安和共谋行为进行反省。 一位非盈利组织的领导人 安妮·马克斯评论道, “受伤之人伤人, 被救之人救人。” 第三, 治愈不是要抹掉痛苦。 我们通常想要彻底忘掉痛苦, 就像在湾景猎人角, 覆盖在土地上的沥青一样。 这并不能让我们如愿以偿。 治愈是要承认痛苦, 并且与之和平相处。
One of my favorite quotes says that healing renews our faith in the process of becoming. I stand here before you as an architect-healer because I'm ready to see what I can become, what my community and those that I work with can become, and what this country, and frankly, this world can become. And I was not meant to take that journey alone. I believe that many of you are unhappy with the way that things are now. Believe that it can be different. I believe that you all are far more resilient than you think. But the first step requires courage. The courage to see each other's pain, and to be willing to stay in the presence of it, even when it gets uncomfortable. Just imagine the change that we can make together if we all committed to that.
我最喜欢的一句话是, 治愈会在我们成长的过程中 不断更新我们的信念。 我以一名建筑设计治疗师的身份 站在你们面前, 因为我已经准备好 看看自己能变成什么样, 我的社区和与我共事的人 会变成什么样, 这个国家, 甚至这个世界能变成什么样。 我并不想独自完成这段旅程。 我相信你们中间有很多人 对现状不满。 坚信现状最终得以改变。 我相信你们的适应能力 比自己想象的更强。 但踏出第一步需要勇气。 要敢于发现彼此的痛苦, 要愿意与痛苦共存, 即使这会让你感到不适。 想象一下,如果我们做到这些, 将会创造多大的改变。
Thank you.
谢谢大家。
(Applause)
(掌声)