Beloved Battery Park City Sculpture ‘Upper Room’ Razed for ‘Resiliency’

First they came for the trees, clear-cutting them by the many hundreds on the East River. Then they came for the art, smashing a beloved public sculptural work, the “Upper Room,” in Battery Park City, into rubble on the morning of Wednesday, Nov. 12, 2025.

Completed in 1987, the sculpture by artist Ned Smyth stood at the western terminus of Albany Street. Looking west through it across the Hudson River, one saw Jersey City and the iconic Colgate sign there. Looking east, one peered down Albany Street, and its adjoining apartment buildings, with the World Trade Center and the rest of lower Manhattan looming.

“Ars longa, vita brevis” goes the old Latin aphorism—Life is long and craft is short—but no Roman or Greek had to deal with the Battery Park City Authority or do battle with the great god “Resiliency.”

Once “Upper Room” was acclaimed, celebrated, and promoted by the Battery Park City Authority (BPCA) itself—now, like Walter Matthau (Oscar Madison) throwing the spaghetti of Jack Lemmon (Felix Unger) against the wall in the 1968 film version of The Odd Couple, now it was garbage!

A description of the sculpture on the homepage of the Lower Manhattan Historical Association—sponsors of the much-loved downtown Fourth of July parade—called the “Upper Room” “a colonnaded court marking the entrance to the Esplanade at Albany Street. This self-contained sculptural environment suggests a contemporary re-imagining of an ancient Egyptian temple. Inside, it features a long table adorned with chess boards, 12 stools, and an altar-like pergola sheltering an iconic palm tree.”

Writing in the New York Times, renowned architecture writer Paul Goldberger called it “one of the city’s most popular works of public art. A magnet for Wall Street brown-baggers, it is also a favorite resting place for strollers along the esplanade, one of the choicest waterfront walks in the city.”

Why did this happen? And how could this happen with so few people knowing about it ahead of time?

The first widespread public attention came on Nov. 8 on X, when the public art expert Dr. Michele H. Bogart, posted about the issues, linking to an unsigned, undated article in the local news publication EBroadsheet.

Headlined “Upper Limit,” the story announced the piece would be demolished as part of the BPCA’s North/West Resiliency Project.

Unfortunately for art lovers, Battery Park City residents, one suspects a flood gate was to be constructed directly under the “Upper Room.”

Bogart, the author of multiple of books, including Sculpture in Gotham: Art and Urban Renewal in New York City, and The Politics of Urban Beauty: New York and Its Art Commission, said in a series of posts:

“Among problems here is that decisions made evidently did not involve the artist or efforts to relocate the work, which was commissioned through a bona fide process, involving art experts, as a permanent work. Given way in which (legitimate) climate resilience redesign efforts are being implemented, the other public art projects at #BatteryParkCity may also be at risk, yet there’s been no appropriate deaccessioning process established. Relocation’s one thing; destruction, another.”

Longtime Battery Park resident and real estate broker Jonathan Jossen was on the scene on the morning of Nov. 12 and posted video of the “Upper Room” destruction on Instagram. Jossen told Straus News that while the fate of the “Upper Room” wasn’t well publicized, neither was it a secret. Anyone who attended BPCA design meetings would have been aware of the sculpture’s eventual fate.

Goodbye ‘Upper Room,’ Hello Floodgate

This sense of betwixt and between-ness of the “Upper Room” is emblemized by a surprise posting on the homepage of the Manhattan Borough President’s office.

Issued by the BPCA, the flyer announced “A Community Farewell Celebration” on Thursday, Oct. 23, from 4 to 6 pm, to be held at the Esplanade at Albany Street.

“The gathering brings neighbors, friends, and art lovers together to enjoy an afternoon of music, chess, and connection. Enjoy light refreshments and share reflections on the ‘Upper Room,’ a sculptural environment by Ned Smyth, which [must] soon be removed for flood mitigation that will protect the neighborhood.”

Public art lovers and those familiar with the dark arts of public messaging will note the use of the word “removed” as opposed to “razed” or “destroyed.”

Speaking to the New York Post, artist Ned Smyth said “They didn’t want to pay, is the bottom line. It’s all about money, I think, and to rebuild it, I’d need to recast all the parts of it again and reset them—they were set on real foundations.”

Straus News requests for further information from the Battery Park City Authority about the process of determining the “Upper Room” must be destroyed went unanswered at press time.

In a prior statement, however, BPCA President and CEO Raju Mann countered Smyth and others’ belief that the Authority was too cheap to save the artwork.

“Multiple engineering reports concluded that due to its materials, size, and condition—not cost—”Upper Room” can neither be protected in place nor relocated without risking extensive damage as we move forward with a project that will protect Battery Park City residents and businesses from climate change.”

Those Were the Days

Before it was slated for destruction, “Upper Room” was the frequently promoted by the BPCA, including videos about it and other BPCA public art posted on Youtube. In its fullest description, the Authority described it follows:

“Designed by Ned Smyth, ‘Upper Room’ is a handsome colonnaded court marking the entrance to the Esplanade at Albany Street. At once dignified and playful, reverent and inviting, this self-contained sculptural environment suggests a contemporary reimagining of an ancient Egyptian temple offering stylized sanctuary from the surrounding city even as it formally echoes the rhythms of its urban environment.

“On its sides the work is girded by ruddy red pillars made of gravelly concrete aggregate recalling a fusion of decorative palm trees and Near Eastern architecture. . . . Designed to be both functional and symbolic, ‘Upper Room’ lends an appealing air of ceremony, harmony, and mystery to its site overlooking the waterfront.”

“I asked, ‘Why, I thought people really liked it?’ . . . Almost nothing I can do can stop them,” Smyth, 77, lamented to The Post.

Now it’s garbage!