I was moved to tears the other day when we visited a family with young children for Sukkot only to find that their sukkah had blown down in high winds. In their pristine back yard, on a putting green of healthy grass, a metal frame lay ominously on its side, like a giant spider carcass, or a sculpture by Louise Nevelson.
Three autumns ago, as Frank Gehry’s strikingly wavy 8 Spruce St. was growing into the city’s tallest residence, and as Diller Scofidio + Renfro was putting the finishing touches on its bold remaking of Alice Tully Hall, a dozen humble ritual huts set up in Union Square for two days stole the architectural spotlight in the city.
Filmmaker behind "Orthodox Stance" captures Reboot's 2010 public art project
For a ritual structure intended to evoke fragility and transience, the sukkah enjoys an oddly long life as an object of contemplation and representation.
Two years ago, it was Sukkah City, an architecture competition and public art project in Union Square. It drew an estimated 200,000 viewers to the dozen winning, legally valid but visually untraditional temporary booths built to celebrate the holiday of Sukkot, which ended earlier this week.