Dedicating a national monument to World War II has taken roughly three times as long as our nation's involvement in the war itself. And the memorial has spawned a bitter battle of its own.

Moved by the plea of a constituent veteran, Rep. Marcy Kaptur (D-Ohio) first introduced memorial legislation in late 1987. That veteran, Roger Durbin, has since died, as do 1,000 of his comrades daily--something proponents repeatedly stress to fend off further delays. After several rounds of contentious hearings and design modifications, the memorial was approved and dedicated this past fall on a 7 1/2-acre site at the Rainbow Pool, in the center of the National Mall between the Lincoln Memorial and the Washington Monument.

The process has taken so long partly because monument-making is a deliberative business in Washington--as it should be--and partly because the debate about memorial design has become polarized since the Vietnam Veterans Memorial was finished in 1982, pitting advocates of the starkly emotional model introduced by Maya Lin's design against those who would return monuments to a more traditional, patriotic path.

Though plans for the memorial are final, its opponents have not given up. The National Coalition to Save Our Mall, World War II Veterans to Save the Mall, the Committee of 100 on the Federal City, and the D. C. Preservation League are filing a lawsuit to stop construction of the monument, citing violations of the 1986 Commemorative Works Act, which forbids encroachment on an existing monument (in this case the Lincoln Memorial). The suit alleges that the proposed site was changed, from nearby Constitution Gardens to the Rainbow Pool, without proper public notice and without an environmental-impact statement. Its goal is a new site-selection process. Opponents plan to seek an injunction to halt scheduled construction on the $100 million memorial this spring.

Adversaries say the memorial's embrace of the pool defiles the Mall vista and sullies a precinct consecrated by civil rights assemblies of the 1960s, including Martin Luther King Jr.'s "I Have a Dream" speech. But the design itself also galls them: they say the pillars and arches conjured by Rhode Island architect Friedrich St. Florian exalt the military while ignoring the civilian war effort; its refined classicism recalls the mode favored by our fascist enemies in the war. In the New Yorker, architecture critic Paul Goldberger asserted that two arches emblemizing the war's European and Pacific theaters evoke neither, "unless your idea of Europe is watered-down Albert Speer."

This vehemence inverts the rancor aroused by the Vietnam Veterans Memorial: its detractors decried the lack of heroic gesture in the black granite name wall and were only partly mollified by the addition of a realistic sculpture. Lin's design was chosen in a competition sponsored by a private veteran's group--something that's not likely to happen again. In its wake, ostensibly to protect the Mall from memorial creep, Congress made its approval of future monuments a prerequisite. It also put the American Battle Monuments Commission (ABMC), which cares for military cemeteries abroad, in charge of the 1995 Korean War Veterans Memorial. Across the Mall from the Vietnam memorial, it echoes Lin's stark abstraction in another mirror wall but focuses on a sculptural platoon trudging toward an American flag--tugging monument-making back to a more literal model.

Unsurprisingly the ABMC's fingerprints are on the latest memorial as well: St. Florian's proposal survived a two-stage competition managed for the commission by the General Services Administration. The brochure soliciting entries seeks respect for context, and by association, convention, reminding applicants that "the monuments and buildings in and around the Mall are for the most part classical in character." It implies a call for the heroic by prescribing a design that honors the armed services and the nation's "high moral purpose and idealism"; an on-site flagpole is among the project requirements. Although members of both juries insist that the ABMC did not influence their deliberations and that landscape-design issues predominated, tradition clearly sounded its call.

The winning design features a sunken pool enclosed by 56 pillars representing the states and territories at the time of World War II. A field of 4,000 stars, one for every 100 American battle deaths, recalls those that families of slain soldiers posted in their windows.

"The symbolism is quite subtle, but it's very moving," says J. Carter Brown, former director of the National Gallery of Art. "These stars will bring a lump to the throat." He also likes to point out that the arches are undeniably triumphant: "This was a great victory, after all." Architect Harvey Gantt, chairman of the National Capital Planning Commission, endorses the memorial's traditional air. "I can envision ceremonies and events where the setting will be absolutely magnificent," he says, "but it also is a space that will allow for reflection."

The structure marries the contemporary imperative of personal therapy in memorials like the one for Vietnam with the more established idea of a monument as a space for public ritual. And what more impressive location than the Mall? Washington and Lincoln were men, not events, but their memorials celebrate key moments in the nation's first two centuries--and no doubt World War II was the critical episode of the twentieth century. Either way, no one's denying that the Rainbow Pool needs refurbishing. "The pool is in bad shape--kind of a forgotten place," says Cynthia Weese, a member of the first jury and dean of the School of Architecture at Washington University, in St. Louis. "I was surprised at the real concern about the site, because I do think it's underdeveloped now."

So rehab the pool and build a memorial elsewhere, says Save Our Mall cochair Judy Scott Feldman. "The notion of war is not consistent with the constitutional idea which is embodied in the cross-axis of the Mall," she says, adding that the site amounts to a "great symbol of democracy...that must not be tampered with."

But the memorial suits the Mall's symbolism. The Washington Monument is the nineteenth century's gesture to the eighteenth and celebrates the republic's founding; the Lincoln Memorial is the twentieth century's ode to the nineteenth, saluting the republic's preservation. Similarly, proponents say, the nearby World War II Memorial will mark the twenty-first century's bow to the twentieth and honor a moment of national unity in the face of unprecedented danger. "That's why I feel so strongly that the site is the correct one," says Hugh Hardy, who chaired the second of two juries that selected St. Florian's proposal. "This is about the continuity of the country."

All the more reason to build an inspiring memorial. "The one thing World War II was not was banal," says Goldberger, who disputes that the veteran death rate dictates quick action. "I take offense to that argument. It's being done to inspire future generations. This is not about making [veterans] feel good." But making people feel good, or at least feel, is what contemporary memorials are about. This one would close a half-century curve of history whose nadir or zenith, depending on your perspective, was Vietnam. The Asian conflict, whose memorial mourns mutely at the fringe of the Mall, sundered the unity of purpose woven by World War II. Centering itself on the Mall to celebrate a moment of national concert, the World War II Memorial hardly heralds a newly unified nation--we are too much an assemblage of atomized interests for that--but rather returns to monument-making a sense of purpose beyond the therapeutic.

The design is not ideal, but neither is it the devastating mediocrity its critics see. It is tempting to presume that the sublime solution would have surfaced in a competition not managed by the ABMC. But the expectations raised by the austerely exquisite Vietnam memorial have been met only rarely since, and its predecessors were not always great architecture either. The Lincoln Memorial, for example, aroused its share of contemporary criticism. Its blessing is Daniel Chester French's enthroned Lincoln, but it is beloved for what it represents, not for transcendent design. In time the World War II Memorial may be treasured for the iconic value of the site if not the design. But it may also be hard to soothe the disquiet that the Mall, and the war, deserved better. --Chuck Twardy

For the 1964 World's Fair Robert Moses, New York's legendary (and legendarily ruthless) master builder, commissioned an obsessively detailed nearly 10,000-square-foot scale model of the city of New York representing all 771 miles of shoreline, every street, and more than 830,000 buildings. The model still stands at the Queens Museum of Art, and like much of what Moses did, it now seems both heroic and horribly misguided--more a monument to his own legacy than a real tool for urban planning.

Today New York's desire for an ever more detailed self-portrait continues as two groups--a private company called Urban Data Solutions Inc., and the city's Department of Information Technology and Telecommunications (DOITT, pronounced "do it")--complete work on what could be seen as the Internet age's answer to Moses's massive arrangement of tiny buildings. They are in effect putting the city on a hard drive using geographic information gathered from aerial photographs, earlier maps, and GPS readings. The result is not only a highly accurate computer "base map" of the city but a virtual model of what Alan Leidner, DOITT project director, calls "the Z dimension"--the intensely vertical nature of New York. DOITT has mapped all five boroughs in two dimensions and has plans to go 3-D. Urban Data Solutions has so far completed Manhattan below 72nd Street in fully modeled three-dimensional form and is at work on maps of 40 other cities around the globe.

As accurate and realistic as the maps are, their true significance lies in the databases of information that can be attached to them using geographic information systems (GIS) and spatial database technology. "It's not enough just to have the representation of the building without the data behind it," explains Adam Cohen, cofounder of Urban Data Solutions and an architect by training. "Every polygon is linked to an element in the database. Without that, it's just a piece of geometry, it's a picture." Databases create a new paradigm in mapmaking, in which every piece of information with a geographic component can be accommodated in a single "virtual environment." Similar to what Yale computer science professor David Gelernter has termed a "mirror world," it is an infinitely expandable database of information about the world, arranged like the world (i.e., by location). In these two maps that information remains relatively specific, from the locations of water mains and West Nile outbreaks in DOITT's case to the location of wireless antennas and office space for Urban Data Solutions' corporate clients. The expandable nature of these spatial databases means that as they grow, and as improvements in 3-D computer modeling yield increasingly realistic-looking virtual worlds, they have the potential to alter our conception of the way information is stored--and even of the city itself.

These models offer a new way of seeing the city, not as a real world to navigate physically, but as a database or a framework for digital information. And according to Cohen, the two can sometimes mirror each other: "I find that I'm constantly living in this world [of the computer] but walking around in that world, saying, eWait a minute--is that building correct? Is it correct in the model? Is it correct out there?'" The goal of maps has always been to extend human perception, but these--because they contain more information and look more like the world--don't just extend human perception, they offer a surrogate for it. As Gelernter prophesied in his 1991 book Mirror Worlds: "You will look into a computer screen and see reality." Although the work of neither Urban Data Solutions nor DOITT presents this possibility, their databases represent a significant jump in that direction.

Some, including Brian McGrath, a professor of architecture at Columbia University and Parsons School of Design, are eager for critical reflection in the face of these new tools. Working with New York's Skyscraper Museum, McGrath recently completed "Manhattan Timeformations," a project that holds a critical lens up to this convergence of spatial database and 3-D-modeling technology by using aspects of both to examine the construction of high-rise office buildings in downtown and midtown Manhattan. Intended for display in the museum and on its Web site (www.skyscraper.org), McGrath's model invokes the history of both cartography and the city as a means of questioning the insistent focus of groups like DOITT and Urban Data Solutions on realism, accuracy, and data. "When you're involved in a new technology it's hard to step back, question it, and say, eThis is a falsification,'" he says. "I'm skeptical that with all this data we can somehow describe the city. It's great, it's useful, but it's still not the city--it's data. There's all this enthusiasm, but there's very little critical reflection. What do we use this for? How do we reimagine the city through these tools?" --Andrew Blum

Whether it's from the Italian Alps, the Belgian Ardennes, or the Fiji Islands, there's not much to differentiate water from water once it's been filtered and purified. It's therefore no wonder that bottlers such as Evian have focused increasingly on packaging design.

Evian's new Nomad bottle (developed with the British firm PA Consulting) features a ringed top that allows the drinker to carry it with a single finger. The cone-shaped cap, sculpted with Evian's trademark French Alpine bas-relief, flips up to expose a strained spout that moderates water flow. Devised for the dehydration-prone urban Bedouin equipped with a cell phone, Palm Pilot, Walkman, and cumbersome array of bags, the new design streamlines the added manual task of holding water. The bottle, which is being introduced this winter, represents a major component of the company's branding strategy and targets a developing customer category best defined by its mobility. "With the Nomad bottle, we have built in user-friendly convenience and unique style to clearly differentiate Evian from other brands of bottled water," says Michael Neuwirth, a spokesman for the company.

Evian's current focus on packaging began in 1995, when it reintroduced its ubiquitous ridged bottles in a more environmentally friendly collapsible plastic; using less material, the collapsible plastic is designed to conserve space in recycling bins. And last year Evian introduced the Millennium bottle, a luxe commemorative glass vessel. Referring to its teardrop form, which emulates "the shape of the perfect drop of water," Neuwirth explains that "the design takes inspiration from the naturally perfect characteristics of Evian Natural Spring Water."

Last September's New York fashion shows were among the events at which the Nomad bottle premiered. One writer excitedly recalls how it allowed him to simultaneously smoke a cigarette, answer his cell phone, hold an umbrella, and carry water as he walked in the rain. But the reaction was not entirely positive. "It's a little too high-concept for what it is," says Robert Bryan, the men's fashion editor at the New York Times. "It's easier to just unscrew a bottle of water and take a drink." --Aric Chen

There are few rituals more quintessentially American than loading one's possessions into a truck and driving across the country. If you're using a U-Haul truck, you just might find yourself in the somewhat less quintessential company of aliens, giant fungus, rare orchids, or fluorescent zinc ore. All are examples of U-Haul SuperGraphics, images of endangered species, national parks, and geological wonders that the company plasters across its fleet of trucks. U-Haul maintains a Web site that catalogs the subjects (www.uhaul.com/ supergraphics/), many of which have their own sophisticated sites.

U-Haul's marketing department cooked up the SuperGraphics idea in 1988 with the launch of the fleet's 26-foot vans. The first series, "America's Moving Adventure," com-memorated noteworthy attractions of individual states, such as Florida's Everglades and Nevada's wild mustangs. The latest series, "Venture Across America" (begun in 1998), took a more eclectic approach. Researchers scoured books and TV to find unusual subject matter, and the company started working with an in-house design team to create zanier, more colorful designs. "We want them to pop off the truck," says Monique Meadows, U-Haul's senior art director. Thanks to ideas submitted by city and state officials, dealerships, and the public (you can make a suggestion at the Web site), there are now more than 80 graphics representing 10 Canadian provinces and all 50 states, some of which have two or three different designs.

The kitschy art has spawned cultish followers. "They chase the trucks down the street," says Meadows. The most popular scenes evoke a sense of eerie mystery reminiscent of an X-Files episode. The original "Venture Across America" SuperGraphic, which represents New Mexico, reads provocatively, "What happened in Roswell in 1947?" It features a frog-fingered green alien, the mascot of sorts for the project. "The alien is not angry or funny," says Meadows. "He has a look of peaceful wonder." --Laura Phipps

At the Web site Obscene Interiors, theme-park concept designer Justin Jorgensen and interior designer Kyle Barnes deconstruct the bad taste exhibited in amateur pornography. They're not talking about the sex itself but the horrid decor from X-rated gay personal ads (with the nude figures obscured). "This photo was taken to show what was left after his boyfriend dumped him and made off with the few stylish furnishings," Barnes quips about one macho-minimalist setting. Another would-be Lothario--surrounded by hats, handbags, and stuffed animals--gets this berating: "Get out of your sister's/aunt's/cousin's bedroom! When she gets back from the thrift store she's gonna be pissed!"

"These pictures are supposed to attract people," a horrified Jorgensen told Metropolis recently, pointing out that no one's going to be seduced by piles of laundry, ugly lamps, and trash-strewn carpets. "My God, when you're going out to a club or a party you make yourself look attractive, and here they're not even vacuuming!"

Jorgensen promises a fresh set of photo-commentaries soon, possibly aimed at women. "But I think there's something more funny about men in bizarre interiors," he says. "I'm disproving the idea that gay men are great interior decorators." --Karen E. Steen

Sometimes the ugliest site can be an opportunity. One such spot is a parking lot and south-facing wall at the U.S. Department of Energy's (DOE) Federal-style headquarters, in Washington, D.C. The 1968 James Forrestal Building was first home to the Department of Defense, and it looks the part. According to rumor, the south wall was left windowless because of security concerns regarding some nearby railroad tracks. Today you can see the blank wall--three-quarters of an acre of poured-in-place concrete--from the National Mall. But soon this eyesore could become an asset rather than a billboard for architectural banality. It's slated to feature one of the largest solar installations in the world, a "Sun wall" that will showcase the promise of renewable energies.

A few years ago as the DOE's Dan Reicher and Earth Day founder Dennis Hayes were installing a small solar energy collector on that wall, they realized they could go big--really big. They hatched a plan to use the whole wall and the parking lot below it to harvest solar energy. Shortly thereafter the DOE, with the National Renewable Energy Laboratory, the American Institute of Architects, and the Architectural Engineering Institute, organized a design competition challenging architects and engineers to create a landmark demonstration of the DOE's commitment to clean, renewable energy. The winning design for this unusual site was proposed by architects Martin Wolf, Mark Frisch, Devon Patterson, and Duane Carter of Solomon Cordwell Buenz & Associates (SCB), in Chicago, and engineers Mahadev Raman and David M. Scott of Ove Arup & Partners, in New York.

Their solution is an elegant, sweeping wall of tensioned cables, struts, and glass that generates a cathedral of energy underneath. "Rather than making a muscular and heroic element, we felt a delicate approach might carry the day in terms of cost, efficiency, and aesthetics," says Wolf, who sketched the beginnings of the winning design at lunch on the proverbial napkin (in this case a scrap of tracing paper). The light, rigid structure that Wolf calls a "high-tech spiderweb" supports a photovoltaic (PV) collection system, which converts solar energy into electricity, and a thermal system, which converts it into heat. The PV system, on the lower half, would be most beneficial in the summer, when the Sun's rays are more vertical; the thermal system, on the upper half, would work best in winter, when rays are more horizontal.

Several of the 115 entries included moving parts so panels could "follow" the Sun's movement, but architect and juror Steven Strong of Solar Design Associates, in Massachusetts, says that technology is "already history"--the future is in solid-state PV. "We're seeing a new solar vernacular, and PV applications are among the most visible aspects of green architecture," he says. The thermal system's peak output (in September) might hit 200 kW of thermal equivalent, and the PV system could produce half that at its peak (in June). Of course peak estimates are best-case scenarios; annual harvest ratings would be lower. In fact all the harvested energy wouldn't make much of a dent in the power needs of the megawatt-sucking Forrestal. Is it worth the effort? "This is a public sculpture with a cash flow coming back," Strong says. "It's a terrific place to start." --Kira L. Gould

After speaking at the East Harlem School at Exodus House in May last year, lighting designer Ingo Maurer was so impressed by the 5th through 8th grade students that he invited a group of them to his Soho store for a series of lighting workshops. Twice a week from July through October three members of Maurer's staff--Mark McKenna, Jennifer Eringis, and Matthew Morgan--led 12 students through conceptual exercises and helped each design a project of his or her own. Maurer feels it is important for students to have a chance to design and build. "I've always noticed that people who are able to do something with their hands are the happier people," he says. --interviews by Kristi Cameron

Alyise Hickman, 13
"My project is about the stages of love from the perspective of being 13. It has five different hearts. In order, I have friends, crush, puppy love, getting annoying, and heartbreak. Toward the end there will be little cracks and mutations to show that the heart has changed. The heart will be in front of a lightbulb. I'm scratching in words that you can see when the light shines through. If you have all five lights, you can switch one on at a time. If you are in puppy love, you can have that light shine to represent it."

Rashaad Butler, 11
"I like buildings. I either want to be an architect or an engineer. I look at the Twin Towers a lot. I was accepted to this program because of a letter I wrote. They asked us what we wanted to create based on what we like. I used these clear-plastic boxes that I painted the designs of the Twin Towers on. The antenna will be a sensor switch. I like the way Mark, Matthew, and Jen think about light. Before it was just something that lit up my path. Now I think of the hard work people put into it and the different designs of light."

Richard Melendez, 11
"I was drawing in study hall and I thought of a wineglass with a lightbulb in it. I was thinking of a restaurant. I wanted to screw the lightbulb in the stem, but it wasn't possible, so we drilled two holes in the sides, ran wires through them, and put the socket inside the glass. Before I came here I didn't know what light was, but when I came here I started to like it." (Upon plugging in his project for the first time Richard said, "Oh, this is great! This is a masterpiece.")