The Shed- A “Vessel” for Exclusion

The following is from a piece I did a few months ago as a dramaturgical exercise on performative spaces. I’ll leave this here while I think and move and think some more…

It’s an “arts center.” A cultural hub. A self-described mecca for budding new artists of any and all disciplines (visual, dance, theatre, film, multimedia, all of the above). But, most importantly, The Shed is perhaps New York City’s most controversial architectural structure- and institution- of the 21st century. The price tag of the building is troublesome: $475 million is all it took to build this brutalist, industrial, loft-like, cubist-inspired structure. Understanding the cost of this building is crucial to fully experiencing its “brand.” The Shed is just one of many symbols of the gentrification of the “neighborhood” known as Hudson Yards. Sticking to this “neighborly” atmosphere, The Shed brands itself as “a warm, welcoming space for innovation and unique artistic experiences.” They do this, they claim, “by minimizing social and economic barriers to entry.” Their words, direct quote.

I’ve always considered my economic background to be upper-middle class, and even I have to admit that I felt, for the first time in a long time, a huge economic barrier pushing against me upon entering The Shed. Forget the building momentarily, and consider the square in which it’s located. As a native Texan, I am all too familiar with the Neiman Marcus brand and all the overt “look-at-me” luxury it entails; this store just happens to be next door. In the center of the square is The Vessel, a structure that tourists flock to to get that Instagram post, and not a single New Yorker can tell you why it’s so popular. Surrounding the rest of the square and the neighborhood are $30 million luxury apartments in more ugly buildings that remain, for the large part, unoccupied. There is an emptiness about The Shed and it’s surroundings. There is space in both its sheer construction and surroundings that, at times, can make anyone feel totally insignificant.

Perhaps it is The Shed’s unnecessary 6 stories, its towering ceilings, or its fluorescent, grey lighting that aspires to be The Factory, and yet, only manages to emit drab, 9-to-5 office vibes. When I enter The Shed, I’m not sure whether I should feel as if I’m a part of an exclusive art opening or if I should get ready for that 9am meeting. The first time I entered The Shed in 2019, I came to see Ben Whishaw and Renee Fleming in Anne Carson’s Norma Jeane Baker of Troy. I believe this was The Shed’s first theatrical production of the institution’s existence. I enter the building, and I immediately don’t quite know where to go, and yet, I recognize exactly where I am. It’s the lobby of MoMa or the Whitney. It’s where you go to buy your tickets or get maps of all the different galleries on display. I’m entering an art museum. Wait, I thought I was seeing a play? Oh, but this is also an art museum. And they’re having a lecture series on the 3rd floor. Avoid that. Also avoid the galleries on the 2nd and 4th floor. Why are the art galleries sandwiching the lecture hall? Who knows. Just go straight to the 6th floor. Oh, but another thing: there aren’t any elevators. At least, I don’t see any. So take the long escalators to the 6th floor.

My overall impression of the space is that nearly every element feels converted. Nothing about any of the floors seems permanent, and the building, as a whole, reads to me as a multipurpose, elite community center that no one is good enough to afford. In my mind, the economic implications linger the most. While The Shed states in their mission that “art is a right, and not a privilege,” despite securing my seats for Norma Jeane Baker of Troy for $10, I still feel like this piece of art is a privilege that no one deserves. The fact of the matter is that the type of art The Shed aims to produce- that of innovative, experimental, young artists- fails to match the needs of its community. This, too, is perplexing for, as explained before, Hudson Yards has yet to be fully established as a neighborhood. Right now it reads as more of a tourist attraction than anything else. 

I believe that, even as Hudson Yards establishes itself more as a neighborhood in the years to come, The Shed will still bump into these same problems. The elitism connected to the neighborhood and the very idea of the neighborhood as elitist shows a gap too wide to fill. Thus, I feel a deep sense that the kind of art The Shed wants to produce (which, I will note, is incredibly exciting to me), will ultimately be unsuccessful in drawing the audiences that need to see work like this. While an argument could be made that the institution could lure Hudson Yards residents- people who might never see work like this if it wasn’t in their neck of the woods- and encourage these neighbors to become patrons of the arts, I’m not sure that this is The Shed’s aim. Honestly, I have no idea what their aim is. And I’m not sure they have ever understood their audience, despite having a total awareness of the implication of plopping an institution like this one in the middle of Hudson Yards.

On top of the socio-economic barriers that seem impossible to surmount, there are serious aesthetic barriers to the building itself. This is not to discount those who enjoy brutalistic architecture and art, but I find that the majority of people don’t really enjoy the kind of art that is -so to speak- ugly on purpose.

Upon first glance, I immediately thought of a Kia Soul- one of the boxiest cars on the market. The rigid shapes were also reminiscent of other famous brutalist structures such as the Barbican Centre or the National Theatre in London. The monochrome and overall uniformity of the building is a nice complement to the infamous, out-of-this-world Hadid building or the towering “iceberg” building, both of which grace The Highline.

The Barbican Centre, London

The National Theatre, London

The “Iceberg” Building, Manhattan

The Hadid Building, Manhattan

Upon closer inspection, I noticed a selection of more complex shapes within what seems to be an overly simplistic construction. These shapes are maybe even sophisticated and unique enough to warrant the heavy cost of construction. When I see the polygons that make up the ugly box, I’m reminded of Picasso and cubism- using abstract parts to create a seemingly realistic whole. 

Also warranting the cost of The Shed? The retractable roof. I have yet to see it in action, and while it seems totally cool in theory, again, the function of it seems unclear to me. And while many functional aspects of The Shed seem questionable, challenging, or nonsensical to me, I’m sure the institution could commission a few artistic minds to figure it out.