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Moshe Safdie’s Habitat ‘67 as Showpiece of Expo ‘67

May 29, 2009


Image 1
Habitat '67 along the St. Lawrence River
Source: Wendy Kohn



At a glance of the structure along the Marc-Drouin Quay on the Saint Lawrence River in Montreal (Image 1), one might be reminded of the coastal cities of the Mediterranean, or perhaps a South American hill village. Although it is similar to such dwellings, this structure is in fact Habitat ‘67, the main pavilion of the 1967 International and Universal Exposition, or Expo 67.

Image 2
Expo '67
Source: http://expo67.ncf.ca


Image 3
Habitat '67 unit detail
Source: Wendy Kohn


The three-dimensional urban housing concept (Image 2, Image 3) located on an invented peninsula, “la Cité du Havre”[1] was built out of the idea of the (then 24 year-old McGill University student) architect Moshe Safdie’s 1961 Master’s thesis design project and report "A Three-Dimensional Modular Building System" and "A Case for City Living"[2].

Its “post-Cubist geometry and its dual privileged relationship with the city and with nature signaled a new way of building and of dwelling”[3], as well as an important contribution to the study of “Man in the Community”[4].

Throughout the duration of the Expo, Habitat ‘67 became an exhibition showpiece and was invaded by thousands of admiring visitors that came from all around the world as if it were a “point of pilgrimage”[5]. It has also been the temporary residence of many public figures passing by Montreal.

Although Habitat ‘67 had become “the soul of the Fair”[6], it truly was, and still is an event in itself. It “continues to conjure up a desirable vision of urban living that excites the imagination”[7] and dream of an ideal home.

As the exposition was held within an historical movement of liberalization, Expo ‘67 was entitled “Man and His World” after a book written by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry[8]. The 60s were also a time of dreams – NASA Space Age technology inspired many innovative inventions such as the calculator and the ATM. The architectural structures of Expo 67 all shared common themes of housing, optimism, utopia, and “man in control” [9], as they created spaces for social gathering.

The achievement of Expo being one of the world’s largest universal expositions, revealed Canada as being a major component in the cultural realm. “For a moment, Montreal became a great world city where architects, artists, musicians, filmmakers, builders and public officials converged from around the world and joined forces with Canadians from every province.”[10]

During the exhibition, select people had the privilege to live within the pavilion.

An interview with the Peters family from the Weekend Magazine on August 18, 1967 communicates the excitement of living in a concrete box.

Everybody gets a kick out of coming to Habitat and we enjoy it. After all that's why we moved in”[11] exclaims Mr. Peters, while Mrs. Peters enjoys watching Expo visitors and their reaction to Habitat.
"Every so often I will hear someone say that it is just an experimental exhibit and that nobody really lives here. I always speak up and tell them I live here and that it is wonderful."[12]

Habitat still houses residents and “is the only structure still used for the very purpose for which it was built”[13]. Today in purchasing at Habitat ‘67, residents become a ‘Special Partner’ of a ‘Limited Partnership’[14]. Some Special Partners lease their residences for different periods of time but most have been Habitat veterans for over 25 years since the Limited Partnership purchased the building from the Canada Mortgage and Housing Corporation in 1985.

Habitat is the creation of Moshe Safdie, who came with his family from Israel to Montreal when he was a teenager in 1955. Safdie, born of the socialist ideals of the 1960s, believes that “high density living can and should be a lot more fun than it is in today's conventional, box-like apartment buildings” which he considers “unfit for human consumption.” [15] Safdie’s thesis housing project explored new solutions to urban design challenges and compact, high-density living. The concept drew upon earlier 20th century models, which were envisioned as an ideal model for urban living. At the time he was writing his thesis for Habitat, Safdie was influenced by “Van Eyck and Rudofsky’s explorations of vernacular clustering and some sketches Le Corbusier did in 1922 for an apartment structure called Immeubles Villas”[16] (Image 4), which was composed of checkerboard structures with gardens in the voids. The other fashionable model of the period and inspiration for Safidie was the similarly close-packed, high towers of Mies van der Rohe, which emphasized a uniform envelope containing the clustering of dwellings within.

Image 4

Le Corbusier’s drawing for Immeubles Villas

Source: Architectural Record, July 1992

Image 5

Habitat ‘67 garden terrace

Source: www.habitat67.com


Safdie’s first proposal called for a housing complex consisting of prefabricated components to “take advantage of the economics of factory production”[17], which could be combined in several ways to form dwellings of diverse size and plan. In 1962 Safdie served an apprenticeship with Louis Kahn where he met August Komendant, a structural engineer, who convinced him that the prefabricated units of his thesis idea should be constructed with load-bearing concrete.

The environmental feature of habitat demonstrates Safie’s desire to offer a “fragment of paradise to everyone”[18]. The garden terraces (Image 5), which are located on the roof-tops of underlying residences, express Safdie’s life-long commitment to creating wholesome and dignified living environments. Safdie strives to accommodate better living for the average family by creating a complete environment, providing them with privacy, their own garden, fresh air, sunlight, and a sense of identity within each home. According to Wendy Kohn, author of a complete account of Moshe Safdie’s architectural works, Moshe Safdie,

“Habitat 67 is the amazing accomplishment of Moshe Safdie’s youth. The principal quality of Moshe Safdie’s entire work is to confer to things a character of eternity. He puts emphasis on architecture’s daily life: the way spaces are used, the performance of the building in its climate, the real desires of future residents. In many ways, the essence of his work is a dichotomy: at the same time tearing and meditation between the universal and the specific, between the ideal and the real.”

Moshe Safdie other well-known structures built within Canada include The Museum of Fine Arts in Montreal, The National Art Gallery of Canada in Ottawa, and the Vancouver Library Square in Vancouver.

Aside from inspiration from previous built models, Habitat “emerged out of the belief that the method of construction generates the architectural language”[19]. Just as mud bricks formed the vaulting of Nubian houses, and wooded truss construction that of Japanese public buildings, Safdie’s Habitat was “a by-product of the assembly of large-scale, three-dimensional prefabricated structural elements.”[20]

Safdie's thesis concept for Habitat was transformed over the course of several years and resulted in two distinct projects. The first was known as the original scheme and th second as the built scheme, or Phase I, of Habitat '67. The original scheme proposal consisted of one 12-storey section and one 22-storey section, totaling 1200 housing units, a 350-room hotel, a neighborhood shopping area, and two schools. This scheme was projected to cost $42 million. When the proposal was presented to the Cabinet of the Government of Canada for approval for the primary theme exhibit of Expo ‘67, they decided to approve on the idea but only to build a small part of the proposal to meet their drastically smaller $13.5 million budget. Instead, a 12-storey section plan of 158 housing units became Phase I of Habitat ’67. The cost would cover large initial equipment costs such as cranes, as well as the cost of development of construction and handling techniques.

The completed structure consists of pre-fabricated south-east or south-west facing rhomboidal concrete boxes that step back in spiral formation to form roof gardens for each unit. The membranes rest on large A-frame supports (Image 6), which enclose pedestrian streets every three floors. Large gaps between these A-frames allow sunlight and air to pass through voids between the spiral housing clusters and reach the public areas below.

Image 6
Habitat '67 A Frames
Source: Wendy Kohn

Image 7
Habitat '67 cross-section
Source: Wendy Kohn

Safdie chose the cube as the “base, the mean and the finality of Habitat ‘67” as it symbolizes “stability, wisdom, truth, and moral perfection”[21]. These pre-cast load-bearing cubes make up the units. They rest on top of one another, and carry the major part of the load through the walls and the piers (Image 7). The vertical elevators, stair cores and the streets, which are 10 feet high and contain mechanical services within them and pedestrian circulation on top of them, also give structural support to the entire building. The units are connected to each other by bolting and post-tensioning while the street units are constructed of sections, which are post-tensioned to form one unit. After pre-casting of the units, they were taken to a finishing area where all components and fixtures were installed in an assembly-line method. All pre-made bathrooms and kitchens were then installed followed by the roofs. The unit - weighing 70-90 tons[22] - was then lifted into place by crane (Image 8). The dwellings of habitat vary in size from a one-bedroom single-storey, to a four-bedroom two-storey. Each unit has its “own plumbing and service connections, so that they can easily be sold as individual units using the condominium method.”[23] Each garden is provided with planters, which are automatically irrigated and fertilized from a central water source. The occupants may choose flowers and shrubs to suit their tastes.

Image 8
Habitat '67 construction with cranes
Source: Wendy Kohn

Although Habitat ’67 has been extremely successful in serving its purpose as a housing community, it has strayed from its original goal as a prototype for moderate-cost urban housing. “At 20 units to the acre it had achieved the site density of traditional row housing, and at 8 to 10 times the cost of the latter it placed itself far beyond the reach of the clientele at CMHC [Canadian Mortgage and Housing Corporation].”[24] This proved Safdie’s design to be an un-economical approach of producing mass housing. After all, Habitat never did reach its intended inhabitants. Habitat is incapable of the five or six time density possible of standard high-rise apartments. Some have suggested that if Habitat were to house the “less favoured” population, it would not have lasted as long as it has, as it would have become a site of menace and vandalism.[25]

Instead, Habitat ‘67 units became popular to the middle and upper class, as the dwellings were just as desirable as the conventional apartment building penthouse. According to the Weekend Magazine article, living at Habitat in 1967 cost the Peters family $470 rent each month, while rents during Expo ranged from $330 to $750. Today members of the partnership continue to live in or rent out their units as well as give back to the community through hosting professional and public events.

Safdie claims that his blueprint for economical housing could be affordable to a larger percentage of the public if only the cost of factory technologies were amortized, though he does admit, “the gardens, privacy, and open-air streets do not come cheap, no matter how efficient the technology.”[26]

The combined use of a three-dimensional urban structure using the specific construction technique of prefabrication and mass-production of prototypal modules, and the adaptability of these methods to various site conditions was intriguing and appealing to many architectural corporations. Following the impact of his thesis idea, Safdie was also commissioned to design other Habitats around the world; New York: 1967, Puerto Rico: 1968, Israel: 1967, Rochester: 1971, and Tehran: 1976, all of which were never completed.

No one anticipated the success of Expo ‘67 so when it was over, the “issue of what do with the site was the subject of many newspaper debates and articles.”[27] By October of 1967, Mayor Jean Drapeau announced an exhibition called “Man and His World”, the theme of Expo ‘67, would be permanently located in Montreal for the years to come. All of the national pavilions and structures that were built for the Expo would be integrated into this exhibition. The new exhibition officially opened in 1968 but despite its potential it was not as successful over the years as was hoped. Buildings began to deteriorate and were deemed unsafe over time, which prompted the close of the “Man and His World” exhibition in 1981.

Habitat ‘67 still shines brightly, more than 40 years after its creation. It is without a doubt one of the only modern utopic visions that was materialized by becoming a popular success as well as a “prestigious address”[28] by combining shelter with all the attributes of modern life. Its fundamental genius is indeed commended by both the architectural and the urban planning realms, by the public in general, and especially by its residents.

Despite its high-density design, residents find they do identify with their unit as Moshe Safdie predicted.
"We can walk right around it and feel it belongs to us. You can't do that in an ordinary apartment building," said Mrs. Peters.[29]
Habitat was the first of its kind; it was not just an experiment. "A lot was learned here about the building and housing people and that's exactly why it was built."[30]

Residents are able to create their own world to their image while Moshe Safdie continues to intervene and give his advice on the renovation projects of the residents in order to keep the architectural integrity and serenity of the complex. Habitat ‘67 became not only the “place to be” for singles, couples and families, but as well a real community of which the quality of life and style are envied throughout Canada. “Since its inception, Habitat has been an innovative, controversial, emotion-generating enterprise, an enterprise that has succeeded admirably in demonstrating the enduring power of an original idea.”[31]



Notes


[1] “Habitat '67." Habitat 67. 9 May 2009 http://www.habitat67.com: French for Habitat

[2] "McGill University." Habitat ‘67. 8 May 2009 cac.mcgill.ca/safdie/habitat/>.

[3] McGill Website.

[4] "Expo '67." Habitat. 8 May 2009 .

[5] Baker, Joseph. "Inhabiting Habitat." The Canadian Architect 42(1997): 30.

[6] Churchill, E.. "Habitat '67 Phase I." Royal Architectural Institute of Canada (RAIC) 42(1965): 6.

[7] Baker, 30.

[8] Expo 67 Website.

[9] Safdie, Moshe. "Habitat at 25." Architectural Record 180(1992): 41.

[10] Safdie, Moshe. "In Habitat." The Canadian Architect August(2007): 50.

[11] Quig, James. "Habitat, Home is a Concrete Box." Weekend Magazine 19 August 1967: Online.

[12] Quig

[13] McGill Website

[14] Habitat ‘67 website

[15] Quig

[16] Kohn, Wendy. Moshe Safdie. London: Academy Group Ltd., 1996, 40.

[17] Kohn, 40.

[18] Habitat ‘67 Website

[19] Safdie, Moshe. "Habitat at 25", 41

[20] Safdie, Moshe. "Habitat at 25", 41

[21] Habitat ‘67 Website

[22] Expo ‘67 website

[23] Churchill, 47.

[24] Baker, 30.

[25] Baker, 30.

[26] Safdie, Moshe. "Habitat at 25", 41.

[27] " Library and Archives Canada." Exhibitions: Expo ‘67. 8 May 2009 www.collectionscanada.gc.ca/expo/053302_e.html >.

[28] Habitat ‘67 Website

[29] Quig

[30] Quig, Mr. Peters

[31] McGill Website


Bibliography and Works Cited

  • Adams, AnneMarie. "Learning from Expo." The Canadian Architect August(2007): 40-42. Print.
  • Baker, Joseph. "Inhabiting Habitat." The Canadian Architect 42(1997): 30. Print.
  • Churchill, E.. "Habitat '67 Phase I." Royal Architectural Institute of Canada (RAIC) 42(1965): 46-48. Print.
  • Kohn, Wendy. Moshe Safdie. London: Academy Group Ltd., 1996. Print.
  • Quig, James. "Habitat, Home is a Concrete Box." Weekend Magazine 19 August 1967: Online.
  • Safdie, Moshe. Beyond Habitat. Montreal: Tundra Books, 1970. Print.
  • Safdie, Moshe. "Habitat at 25." Architectural Record 180(1992): 40-41. Print.
  • Safdie, Moshe. "In Habitat." The Canadian Architect August(2007): 50. Print.
  • "Habitat '67." Habitat 67. 9 May 2009 .
  • "Expo '67." Habitat. 8 May 2009 .
  • "McGill University." Habitat ‘67. 8 May 2009 cac.mcgill.ca/safdie/habitat/>.
  • " Library and Archives Canada." Exhibitions: Expo ‘67. 8 May 2009 www.collectionscanada.gc.ca/expo/053302_e.html >.








Circulating Cities
July 19, 2009

In the beginning of their existence, postcards were considered a nexus of social relation and intimacy[1]. The postcard ‘craze’ began at the end of the nineteenth century and continued into the first third of the twentieth century.  Shops dedicated to the sale of postcards began to become present in each city.  Anybody who was anybody was collecting postcards, as more than half of postcards being sold were never used to send messages through the mail.
Postcards were created as an advertising motive to attract visitors even though they were “scarcely attractive.”[2]  The black and white illustrated views occupied only a third of the space of the card, usually to one side (Image 1).   


Image 1
Gruss aus Bregenz, Austria, posted May 1888.
Source: Richard Carline


It was, however, the great Paris Exhibition of 1889 that set the postcard in motion and launched the craze of postcard collecting, in particular postcards of iconic structures that represent their city. The ascent of the Eiffel Tower was clearly the main attraction of the Paris Exhibition, so a postcard was issued which could be bought and physically posted by the visitor on the tower (Image 2).  


 
Image 2
The Eiffel Tower; produced for posting at the summit for the Paris Exhibition, 1889,
and The Eiffel Tower; Coloured Engraving; c. 1890.
Source: Richard Carline

 “Thenceforward, the ascent of any monument, castle, keep or mountain was incomplete unless picture postcards were available for posting at the summit”[3].  The posting of a card, which bears a photograph of the mountain or edifice, carries permanent and undeniable proof of this conquest of altitude.  Similarly today, the purchasing of a postcard of a famous building or structure is proof that the structure exists and that the person was present at the location at some point in time.  The postcard helps transport cities into time and space as the cards themselves physically move from one place to another, operating as “vehicles for the circulation of places.”[4]  They aid in dating the city they represent, and keep track of a history of building construction, which in turn tracks the city’s historical architectural associations. 
Robin Kelsey explained Timothy O’Sullivan’s survey photographs as creating an “image of the West.”[5]  I believe that through the circulation of postcards,  “images” of the cities they represent are strongly created through the depiction of their buildings and structures.  I will be applying this observation to an analysis of postcards from architecturally iconic Rome, as well as the more architecturally contemporary metropolitan city of Toronto.  Whether it is in a ‘multi-view’ composition (Image 3), or the popular skyscraper horizon view (Image 4), postcards represent an “image” of the city, and participate in the shaping of geographical imaginations.

Image 3
Canterbury; Multi-view card, 1895-1898.
Source: Richard Carline


Image 4
Toronto; horizon-view postcard
Source: own

The increased geographical mobility and abundance of postcards can certainly be connected to the nineteenth century invention of the daguerreotype, stereoscopic views, panoramas and other optical devices, as well as to the first ‘tourist packages’.[6]  The emergence of mechanical reproduction, as well as this “new type of observer”[7] - the tourist, takes cities out of their physical and temporal boundaries and moves them around from place to place and from century to century.  Through the act of viewing, “they bring the there here, the then now.”[8]  Traveling postcards have become a media of exchange between one place and another, becoming dynamic vehicles for the circulation of place through time and space. “An object consumed by time, the postcard creates an affective bond between a spatially and/or temporally removed place and the viewer.”[9]  Citizens living in Rome know what Toronto looks like, just as Torontonians are familiar with Rome due to the images of structures within these cities circulating around the world. 
Cities are constantly changing as new buildings are constructed, the old demolished or modernized in some way.  Although an “image” of a particular city the way it generally seems to stay may exist forever in our minds, postcards can also be considered tokens of remembrance of a place.  They contain a sense of the history that links the historical city to the present city by means of the depiction of structures and city layout.  They aid us in our preoccupation with the development and improvement of cities.  Images of places that are under renovation, places that no longer exist, or at least not in the form they did, are of added value to us today as they can be used as “templates of restoration”[10] for buildings and structures.  They can also be used to track patterns of land erosion and even in court for land claim disputes. 
The postcard as a physical token reduces the exotic, monumental, and ephemeral experiences of a place into a miniature representation to be “appropriated by the gaze of the individual subject, to be grasped by his hands, and thus possessed.”[11]  Dated postcards of the developing city of Toronto give us an insight of what the city was like at that time.  Knowing that the city will never again look like what it used to gives us a sense of pride in owning visual proof of the past in the form of a postcard.  Photographs of hotspots within a city illustrate views we did not experience or even know about, as well as new ways of viewing something familiar.  The “concrete visual testimony”[12] of postcards conjure up the past, offering us an opportunity to feel what it was like to be there.
Since postcards select what we see, we have created visual constructions of cities based on images that have circulated, in turn creating social regulations of what building styles are allowed to be imitated in locations elsewhere than their place of origin.  A Canadian example of arisen controversy regarding the displacement of historical building style within a city lacking history is that of Moshe Safdie’s Vancouver Library Square (Image 5).  Although the building was a result of a design contest involving the public’s choice of finalist, it has faced much controversy due to its so-called inappropriate resemblance to the Colloseum.  Questions were raised regarding the relevance of the elliptical form, and the overt reference to the historical venue, which housed gladiatorial combat and Christian martyrdom.  The design has been said to be “too Roman”[13] for Vancouver – a statement created from an association that could only have been made due to existing mechanical reproductions of the image of the Colloseum and the Classical architectural style of Rome.

Image 5 
Vancouver Library Square 
Source: Wendy Kohn


Because edifices are such a source of pride in both small communities and large metropolises, and because they are locale markers, every photographer takes them, some over and over again.  Some shots of buildings such as the CN Tower or the Collosseum, are so common in postcards that they are uninteresting even to the tourist collector.  “Produced with the new tourist market in mind but not confined to it, these cards proudly promote a quality of life.”[14]  They shape our experience of cities and what kind of truth they portray. They influence tourist expectations from the representations of the structures and their surroundings, and even predict the tourist’s visitation routes about the city.
The tourist gaze is elaborated as a particular ‘way of seeing’ the world that is imposed on tourists and essentially accustomed by the imagery created for tourism destinations by the tourism industry. [15]  The imagery upon postcards influences tourists’ expectations of the place, their interactions with it, and their post-experience evaluation of the destination.[16]  Essentially, the destination image must correspond reasonably closely to the actual characteristics of the place: otherwise tourists will be dissatisfied, will not recommend the destination to others, and will not return themselves at a later time.  Even though this is the case, tourism marketers have long realized that the correspondence need not be precise.  The continual reproduction and recirculation of both ionic and everyday photographic images perpetuates the tourist gaze in society today.  When a place is photographed, the person capturing the photograph is in some way acquiring it for his or her own possession.  This photography “is (or at least seems to be) a means of transcribing reality.”[17]  The photograph, or postcard, has the power to pass itself off as a genuine miniature version of the real thing, existing so that one can prove to others that they have been there.  “The postcard represents a ‘trophy’ of the tourist gaze: tangible evidence that the trophy-bearer has visited the destination and in some sense consumed it.”[18]

Postcards bring about and circulate these distant places in our daily lives; these pieces of world we once had in front of us, or perhaps never visited and probably never will.  Postcards today take the importance off of the necessity of physical presence at a particular city or building in order to experience it.  We tend to take the graphic miniaturization of the places represented upon postcards as the truth. As John Tagg writes in essay, The Currency of the Photograph, “the photograph seems to declare: ‘This really happened.  The camera was there.  See for yourself.’”[19]  Our physical manifestation of a place in the form of a postcard can stand in place of ever being present or ever viewing that “place” in reality.  It could also influence the viewer to venture to the location with expectations of the postcard images they’ve been brainwashed to believe, only to discover an “attraction” overcrowded with people and garbage on a cold and cloudy day.
Postcards can claim to truthfully represent a certain city in a variety of ways.  A trend that I found common among postcards is the bird’s-eye view shot of the city.  Like many smaller cities, the majority of Toronto’s tourist attractions are clustered in its downtown core (Image 6).  Bird’s-eye views allow the tourist to possess a picture of the whole town or area, taken from a distance and an elevation, whether it’s on top of a hill, building, or some other high point such as a helicopter.  Many postcard photographers include bird’s-eye views in their range of scenes[20], even if it is an aerial photograph of one single building.  Although they provide a general overview, they do not allow for a lot of detail.  The viewer is able to get an idea of the popular building, which in turn may lure them to the city to experience a more detailed, close-up encounter of the postcard image(s) in reality.

  Image 6
Toronto; birds-eye view postcard
Source: own

I have also observed that cities such as Rome, that have a multitude of tourist attractions spread throughout the city, tend to follow the multi-view trend of postcard composition (Image 7).  This way, many, or all attractions can be displayed upon a tiny five by seven piece of card paper (Image 8).  Tourists can then either use these views as a physical memory of the locations they visited, or as proof to a friend, family member, or themselves, that those attractions must exists in reality.  These multi-view postcards create a kind of summary of the popular tourist attractions of a city or region.

  Image 7 
Rome; multi-view card
Source: own

Image 8
Barcelona; multi-view card
Source: own





Most postcards of a building or city are accompanied by text, which further legitimizes the place.  As Veronica della Dora puts in her essay, Traveling landscape-objects, the “image and referent are laminated together, just like the windowpane and the landscape in the famous Magritte paintings.”[21]  Even though one may have already taken a photo from the exact location and angle as the one on the postcard, having a label upon the image referring to the city justifies the image of the location as genuine.
            The stereotypes and idealizations of the postcard are representational conventions that are generally understood for what they are.  “The difficulty is that, like other forms of mass media, the constant circulation and repetition of the postcard naturalizes its images to a point where the reality it depicts can seem not only more compelling, but more real than actual experience.”[22]

Postcards have allowed us to pack up cities and move them about, contributing to the shaping of the knowledge of the world.  Associations of building style to the cities where they were first used continue to raise questions of appropriateness when applied to newer cities, as if the originating city owns rights to the copyright of its style.  As round-headed arches accompanied by grandeur refer to Classically ancient Rome, and soaring needle-like towers refer to the modern accomplishments of Toronto, architecture is continually linked to areas around the world.  Truthful depictions of these architectural accomplishments upon postcards force us to learn more about the culture, region, and time in history in which they refer to.  The pyramids of Egypt urge us to question their aesthetics, as well as why and how they were built; as do the temples of Asia; the Gothic cathedrals of France; the expressionistic and un-ornamental German constructions during the first quarter of the 20th century.  Thanks to their ability to be mass-reproduced, postcards turn the “image” of a place not just into a tourist commodity for sale, but into a cultural icon,[23] and universal source of knowledge.


Notes


[1] Robert Bogdan and Todd Weseloh,  Real Photo Postcard Guide: The people’s
Photography (Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 2006) 2.
[2] Richard Carline, Pictures in the Post: The Story of the Picture Postcard and its Place in the History of Popular Art  (London: Gordon Foster, 1971) 40.
[3] Carline, 44.
[4] Veronica della Dora, "Traveling landscape-objects." Progress in Human Geography, 33(3) (2009) 335.
[5] Robin Kelsey, “Viewing the Archive: Timothy O’Sullivan’s Photographs for the Wheeler Survey, 1871 – 74,” The Art Bulletin Vol 85, No.4 (Dec. 2003): 710.
[6] della Dora, 335.
[7] della Dora, 335.
[8] della Dora, 334.
[9] della Dora, 340.
[10] Bogdan, 207.
[11] della Dora, 344.
[12] Bogdan, 208.
[13] Christopher Thomas, “Canadian colossus: Library Square, vancouver, British Columbia, Moshe Safdie and Associates, Architect,” Architecture 84(1995): 76.
[14] Peter White, It Pays to Play: British Columbia in Postcards 1950s – 1980s (Vancouver: Arsenal Pulp Press, 1996) 77.
[15] Brian Garrod, "Understanding the Relationship between Tourism Destination Imagery and Tourist Photography." Journal of Travel Research (4715 Aug 2008) 347.
[16] Garrod, 349.
[17] Garrod 347.
[18] Garrod, 350.
[19] John Tagg,  “The Currency of the Photograph,” in Victor Burgin ed.  Thinking
Photography (London: The Macmillan Press, 1982) 117.
[20] Bogdan, 121.
[21] della Dora, 335.
[22] White, 10.
[23] della Dora, 346.


Works Cited

Bogdan, Robert and Todd Weseloh.  Real Photo Postcard Guide: The people’s
Photography.  Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 2006.  Print.

della Dora, Veronica. "Traveling landscape-objects." Progress in Human Geography
33(3) (2009) 334-354. Web.16 Jun 2009.

Carline, Richard.  Pictures in the Post: The Story of the Picture Postcard and its Place in the History of Popular Art.  London: Gordon Foster, 1971. Print.

Garrod, Brian. "Understanding the Relationship between Tourism Destination Imagery
and Tourist Photography." Journal of Travel Research 4715 Aug 2008 346-358. Web.16 Jun 2009.

Kelsey, Robin.  “Viewing the Archive: Timothy O’Sullivan’s Photographs for the
Wheeler Survey, 1871 – 74.” The Art Bulletin Vol 85, No.4 (Dec. 2003):
702 – 723. Print.

Kohn, Wendy.  Moshe Safdie.  London: Academy Group Ltd., 1996.  Print.

Tagg, John.  “The Currency of the Photograph,” in Victor Burgin ed.  Thinking
Photography, London: The Macmillan Press, 1982: 110-141. Print.

Thomas Christopher. “Canadian colossus: Library Square, vancouver, British
Columbia, Moshe Safdie and Associates, Architect.” Architecture 84(1995):
72-79. Print.

White, Peter.  It Pays to Play: British Columbia in Postcards 1950s – 1980s
Vancouver: Arsenal Pulp Press, 1996.  Print.