A Tribute and a Concern

A portion of this issue is devoted to introducing the Tehran Metro stations as a more or less successful engineering, architectural, and urban planning project. The number of major projects in recent years that can be deemed successful may not even reach the fingers of one hand. In addition to the Tehran Metro, the construction of cultural centers in various neighborhoods of Tehran, the design and construction of Iranian embassies abroad, the building of cinema and commercial complexes in different parts of Tehran, the renovation of schools, the oversight of the Architecture Council in the reconstruction of Bam, and the facade work on some of Tehran's highways are among the projects that have had tangible achievements. These examples demonstrate that we, too, are capable of carrying out major projects in an honorable and acceptable manner — if architects, designers, and experienced engineering firms are given the opportunity to work, and if projects are assigned to firms not merely on the basis of connections but on the basis of standards and engineering and design capabilities. The main distinguishing feature of the Metro project appears to have been carrying out the work in accordance with global technical, engineering, and architectural standards and avoiding any attempt at showmanship. In cases such as Golshahr Station, where it seems the area and spatial possibilities allowed for it, the artistic innovations that have resulted in a thoroughly modern and striking station are entirely appropriate to the Metro's overall character. For this reason, the stations as a whole — in terms of spatial design, route planning, and even entrances (which, due to land acquisition issues and urban complications, are the most difficult part of the design), as well as in execution (except for stone installation, which is poor nearly everywhere), and in the selection of materials and equipment, including escalators, entry and exit control devices, seating, waste bins, clocks, lighting systems, the placement of advertising and decorative panels, and even cleanliness — are consistent with acceptable global standards. The sole entirely exceptional case is the interior design of the stations, which appears not to have been entrusted to specialists, and this has caused the color of materials — especially the floor stones and walls — and the selection of panels to be completely uncoordinated, and in terms of professional skill, at a very low level. But the important point is that in our country, the successful completion of a project does not end the matter. The process of destruction begins almost immediately. I do not mean the destructive efforts of professional or even political rivals acting from outside, although the financial constraints — which have meant that despite the availability of all equipment and infrastructure, it has not been possible to increase the number of trains and reduce the intervals between them in proportion to the dramatic rise in Metro ridership — are a reality. The hour-by-hour swelling of the commuting population, who struggle frantically to find a spot in the packed carriages of trains arriving at stations only every ten minutes, has reached an alarming stage. What I mean is the onset of destructive forces from within. Perhaps a comparison of the condition of, say, Laleh and Mellat Parks, or the House of Artists and the Art Garden, and the Vanak Sports Complex on Attar Street in the early years after construction, with what they are today — or the strange