BIG BOX Expediant Purge of Culture

Neither inside nor out, do any of the big boxes relate to the patterns of landscape or local culture around them. They're homogenized from sea to shining sea, which is another facet of the anonymity they radiate. And it's contagious. Since warehouse architecture slipped out of the warehouse districts and into retail and even residential neighborhoods, we've begun to accept the concrete box as a container for other kinds of activities: amusement centers, movieplexes, churches. Cheap, ugly and expedient has become the default mode. It's everywhere, so it must be OK.

Enthusiasts of big-box shopping will retort that this is so much elitist prattle. We're not interested in architectural delight; we want that $999 plasma TV -- and any niceties that raise the store's overhead are unnecessary and even unwelcome. I understand; I'm far from rich and I dig bargains as much as the next guy. But I believe that a civilization's wealth isn't measured by the stuff piled up in its private homes, but by the quality of its natural and built environment and the texture of its people's behavior toward each other.
By that standard, the elephantine tramp of concrete giants spreading steadily across the land is ominous and depressing indeed.

Lawrence W. Cheek is the Northwest contributing editor for Architecture magazine. Contact him at escrito48@comcast.net.