Category: infill development

Urbanism Without Effort, the first week

Posted by – May 10, 2013

Thanks to Island Press, readers, colleagues and friends for the support during the first week of the Urbanism Without Effort launch.

The response through online vendors–especially Amazon rankings–suggests that a long-form version of the myurbanist approach has merit, and was, perhaps, long overdue.  And for those who have already downloaded, enhancements are coming, free of charge!

The Urbanism Without Effort web page is a one-stop venue about the book, related media and appearances. The summary below appears on the site’s Media page, and is current as of today.

The following 2013 articles and reviews reference Urbanism Without Effort:

Ronald Holden, “Chuck Wolfe’s urban manifesto“, Cornichon

ULI-Northwest Blog Entry on Book Launch Event (with downloadable Powerpoint presentation)

Roger Valdez. “Urbanism Without Effort? Let It Be!“, Seattle’s Land Use Code

Planetizen, “The Dynamic Potential of Urbanism Without Effort“, Planetizen

Miriam Axel-Lute. “Where Community is at Work Making Itself“, Shelterforce

Juan Carlos Garcia de los Reyes, “Urbanismo Sin Efuerzo“, La Cuidad Comprometida, Granada, Spain

Kaid Benfield, “How City Lights Change the Way We Experience Places“, NRDC Switchboard

 

The following representative 2013 articles by the Author reference Urbanism Without Effort:

Alley Movie Nights: Can you say urbanism without effort?“, Crosscut

The Dynamic Potential of Urbanism Without Effort“, The Atlantic Cities

Picturing 10 Qualities Every City Should Have“, The Atlantic Cities

Picturing 10 Urban Qualities Central to Every City“, Crosscut

Reclaiming the Urban Memory“, Sustainable Cities Collective

Movement and Settlement, Upside Down“, The Huffington Post


movement and settlement, upside down

Posted by – April 19, 2013

MoveSettleDetroit_ChuckWolfe

Last week, I participated in the Project for Public Spaces’ Placemaking Leadership Council inaugural meeting in Detroit. The event left several impressions, among them a real concern about accuracy in recounting what I saw.

In 2009, I tried to add my two cents about Detroit from a Seattle perspective in Crosscut, without the benefit of first-hand knowledge. In retrospect, nice try. Often, the complexity of urban evolution is better summarized in a single image like the one above.

As I note in Urbanism Without Effort (Island Press, 2013, pending this month), in The City in History, Lewis Mumford framed the universal dynamic of movement and settlement in cities of any era.

In January 2012, here, I suggested with an image of a “walkable Pompeii” that application of the urban dynamic of movement and settlement need not be static, and often shows ironic reapplication over time.

Similarly, in the above image of home and street, a lone figure moves across empty infrastructure in front of settlement that is no more.

To me, the remaining question is simple. What’s next?

I’ll offer that very few of us really know enough to answer.

Image composed by the author in Detroit. Click on each image for more detail. © 2009-2013 myurbanist. All Rights Reserved. Do not copy.


pursuing the elusive green light of urbanism

Posted by – January 21, 2013

Gatsby's green light, urbanism-style?

Gatsby’s green light, urbanism-style?

In order to reckon with today’s urbanism, I suggest challenging your dreams and, like The Great Gatsby, the American Dream itself.

Recently, I went into a restaurant in a trendy urban neighborhood, excited by the prospect of something new in a former light industrial space. At first glance, I assumed a dream fulfilled, featuring more of what’s needed in a changing, post-recessionary city: Awnings with street appeal, a hybrid French-Italian name, an angular entry off of the sidewalk with diminutive, curbside seating and an implied European, old-world charm.

After sitting down, I found a diverse, fusion menu, at odds with the exterior. Then, I focused on discordant building materials, lighting fixtures, doors, tables and chairs, and the sense of place became both nowhere and anywhere. While one wall displayed some photos of the former building use, in total, the ambiance became vintage antique and consignment store, all in one. The place was well-appointed, and the food and service very good, but the experience communicated to me an incompatible melange of urban adornment.

I left, reminded of one of my favorite quotations from American literature about American Dream, in the form of the “green light”, the enduring symbol of hope with which F. Scott Fitzgerald closed The Great Gatsby:

Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgiastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter—tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther…. And then one fine morning—So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.

I may suffer from too much concern for the naturally occurring, qualitative aspect of urban places and surrounding neighborhoods, but my story is hardly about chasing overly conventional dreams. I agree with Edwin Heathcoate’s January 11 reminder in The Financial Times, that a “beautiful” city may demand no more than modest, spontaneous moments of experience.

The chic beach couches

The chic beach couches

I have also championed the composite, evolving city that is in formation, where spaces—whether residential or commercial—are shared, morphed or recombined in ways different from before. And I will celebrate with everyone when the clearly novel and chic succeed, such as couches on the beach in Tel Aviv, or the ice cream laundromat that I have described in my neighborhood.

But in this case, an eclectic hodgepodge—without a more real relation to its context and surroundings—brought me an uneasy pause. Without a more authentic tie to place, I perceived an unrealized vision, one that could easily disappear if the economic recovery cannot sustain.

Is the search for good urbanism in American cities the latest manifestation of the American Dream, a quest so aptly perceived and critiqued by Fitzgerald in 1925?

If places are not implemented with care, and if they leave a sense of the overly artificial and concocted, we may collectively and forever chase The Great Gatsby‘s symbolic green light at the end of Daisy’s pier.

Images composed by the author. Click on each image for more detail. © 2009-2013 myurbanistAll Rights Reserved. Do not copy.


what can we learn from five principles of people and place?

Posted by – January 13, 2013

In my own writing, I enjoy finding layered, historical illustrations of how people relate to the built and sociocultural communities around them. I have explained before how this exercise is not merely academic, but is also useful as a supplement to today’s urbanist dialogue and sustainable placemaking efforts.

Recently, I have devoted considerable time to associated research and photography in support of my pending book, Urbanism Without Effort.  The book will be short and to the point, so unused sections remain, including the following freestanding principles and companion lessons, drawn from several snapshots of people and place.  I offer them below, for further use and inquiry, as well as inspiration and adaptation.

Principle 1: When Placemaking, Account for Authentic, Visible Evolution (Lisbon and Porto, Portugal)

The story of Portugal is not always well-known, and it is a mistake to cast the Iberian peninsula as a lump sum proposition. Placemakers everywhere would benefit from a look beyond across-the border gems such as Barcelona to the complex and unique history that hides behind Portuguese cities.

These places project an organic, under the skin reality that can only be experienced by a visit and exploration.  This is nowhere more so than in Lisbon, which I believe offers an instinctual urbanism that avoids much analysis, circumventing the brain for a direct hit on the soul.

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Lisbon’s  history and topography create an urbanity without pretense that seems best learned onsite and on foot.  Porto is similar, with ample windows into how people of character blend with a venerable urban core.

In summary, these cities with their authentic voices  provide the best of organic examples.  Their context explains how color  and sound frame large and small spaces alike, and concentrations of mixed uses offer a model for the compact central city that many have in mind today.

Lesson: The evolved look and feel of an urban place is not an overnight proposition.

Principle 2: Look for the Physical and Cultural Shells that Define Us (Malta)

Other places are more tangible, and  display the shell of the city, and visible pieces of the urban puzzle–the underlying parts that make up the whole.  The baselines of buildings, roads, names and language all provide context for new initiatives that address repair, replacement and evolution of infrastructure and infill development.  In fact, I wrote last February how we can find inspiration from physical artifacts of place to help retrofit for the future .  But in this instance, I refer to understanding not only old buildings or physical “ruins”, but other sociopolitical precedent that makes a place unique.

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An unrivaled  example is the island country of Malta, located about 50 miles south of Sicily, at the marine crossroads of Europe and Africa.  The historic Maltese cities, such as Mdina  and Valletta, present reality quite unlike any other.  Inhabitants speak a language mostly derived from Arabic left by long-departed medieval rulers.  They  live among a built environment still reflective of the 3oo year rule of the Knights of the Order of St. John and a mid-16th century siege against the Turks that was once among the more prominent events in European history..

This is not an obscure antiquarian story, but illustrates a highly contextual place, a small country where the cycles of human history are readily experienced  in little more than one day.  All around are reminders of  a shell framed by the only semitic language written in latin script, and physical and cultural remnants of vanished nobility.  While local examples will be more subtle and likely less dramatic, we should remember and champion places with dramatic, definitional shells as inspiration for understanding the present city and its redevelopment potential.

Lesson: The defining physical and sociocultural origins of today’s cities continue to influence their redevelopment

Principle 3: We Can See it All in the Company Town, Evolved (Broken Hill, Australia)

The company town is often cited as another one-stop venue for urban planning precedent. While sometimes lumped with utopian efforts, this paternalistic, industry-developed community is also often referenced for a summary representation of the common elements of any urban place. These elements include housing, work, recreation,  environmental concerns and public safety.

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BrokenHill_Downtown_ChuckWolfe

Today, Broken Hill, New South Wales, Australia provides a snapshot of a major company town,  in evolution from its former dependence on the country’s largest mining concern, BHP. The structure and function of the industry-based daily life is still clear in the layout of the town and the brown slag outcropping that still dramatically dominates the landscape. A thriving artist’s community, contemporary restaurants, retail businesses and social service agencies are also apparent.

In sum, what once was necessary to daily life now merges with the functions of the touristic, the artistic and a gateway to the Outback.  We should look to such places as bellwethers of cities in transition.

Lesson: Urban places convened around a the need for human capital are not new, and remain laboratories for documenting change.

Principle 4: We Can Learn from Simple, Small-Scale Stories of Adaptation (White Cliffs, Australia)

Amid demonstrable instances of climate change worldwide, examples of adaptation to harsh weather show examples of human adaptability. Not far from Broken Hill, residents of the Australian Outback have implemented alternative forms of shelter (known as dugouts, descendant of opal mining days) to offset extreme heat. Conveniently, in White Cliffs,  the Underground Motel shows the potential of local practice in the form of a novelty tourist attraction.

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Surveying the landscape of White Cliffs and exploring the underground lodging halls may for now satisfy vacation curiosities, but  there is a larger message inherent in a visit to such outlier venues. When we see examples of alternative forms of settlement, we also witness the ongoing potential–and likely increasing need–for adaptation in urban environments everywhere.

Lesson: Humans are capable of dynamic change and innovative adaptation–good news for tasks ahead..

Principle 5: Some Universal Urban Icons Reflect Human Nature as Much as Place

Finally, given the rich, authentic relationships between people and described above, should we be disappointed by the increasingly standardized symbols of urban evolution around the world?   For instance, the ferris wheel has reentered the international urban imagination, and is seemingly omnipresent in cities competing on the world stage. The Seattle Great Wheel, built as a private business venture, but adopted as a symbol of the city’s emerging waterfront, here contrasts with an under construction version in Melbourne.

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GreatWheel_ChuckWolfe

Why are these “observation wheels” reaching landmark status in some places when other, more vernacular gestures might better fit the context of a place?

My answer is not to cynically decry these wheels, but to consider them as the same exciting, moving observation points first explained  by seventeenth century observers.   Understanding their ongoing success–premised on fun and excitement–is consistent with my opening call for more studied reflection about relationships of people and the communities around them.

Lesson: Some urban icons show an important universal attribute of people experiencing place–the need for outright enjoyment in the process.

In summary,the five principles and lessons presented here are starting points for discussion, debate and potential conversion.  I believe ongoing vetting of such principles and underlying examples– if discerned and discussed with care–is a remarkable toolbox, adaptable in context across space and time.

Images of Lisbon and Porto, Portugal; Broken Hill, White Cliffs and Melbourne, Australia; Red Tower and Medina, Malta; Seattle, Washington composed by the author. Click on each image for more detail. © 2009-2013 myurbanist. All Rights Reserved. Do not copy.


from the urban vernacular to the urban spectacular

Posted by – August 15, 2012

This morning, in my Seattle neighborhood breakfast venue, I had a flashback. The outdoor umbrellas became in mind’s eye, the spectacular Parasol of Seville, Spain.

Because I have been both places, literal form became abstract, functional became stylistic, and I reinterpreted both places with new appreciation.

Through such urban gestalts, the vernacular can easily become the spectacular.

All images composed by the author.


making regulatory reform work in a changing Seattle

Posted by – March 27, 2012

Analyses of Seattle’s downtown rebirth seem to be in vogue of late, both from here and afar. From Jon Talton in The Seattle Times to Richard Florida inThe Atlantic Cities, writers are holding up small mirrors to the central city-scape—like the “Claude Glass” used by landscape painters of old—to create motivating and exciting images of of the evolving economy of the city I call home.

These perceptions showcase a walkable, creative-class city where transit meets the commerce of the future. However, in reality…

Today’s post continues as an exclusive entry at The Atlantic Cities, “The Quest to Make Regulatory Reform Work in Seattle”. For the remainder, click here.

Image composed by the author.


scaling the urban future by blending the urban past

Posted by – March 18, 2012

How will the city of tomorrow reflect adaptive reuse of the city of today?

I don’t think we ask that question broadly enough, and our day-to-day, property-specific incrementalism can easily overshoot the greatest lessons from history for today’s city politics, regulation and economic constraints.

A hometown case in point, last month, transported me from Seattle to Croatia (virtually) for inspiration about why we should think beyond limited geographies, time frames and lifetimes when we discuss urban redevelopment options.

Recently, the National Trust for Historic Preservation’s Seattle-based Preservation Green Lab made urbanist media headlines (including Emily Badger’s January 25 Atlantic Cities story) with a report stating the environmental benefits of green retrofits of historic buildings, as compared to new, state-of-the-art, energy-efficient construction.  In addition, a local church restored as townhouses joined the list of intriguing Seattle adaptive reuse projects typical of national trends.

But almost simultaneously, Seattle Times columnist, Nicole Brodeur, described a protest-free goodbye in my Seattle neighborhood (the same neighborhood of the ice cream laundromat and alley movie night, previously profiled) to a neighborhood icon.  A 112-year old, iconic repair garage and offices (demolished in early February) will soon become the nostalgically named “Pike Station”, comprised of new, live-work townhouses, complete with a courtyard and intermixed retail.

The purported upshot of the local story—that the building’s had a good life and the new use is commendable—is clear in Brodeur’s headline: “Sometimes it’s OK to let an old landmark go”.

How did our predecessors handle these issues in simpler times, when reuse was a practical necessity?  What can we learn from those stories?

As our surroundings evolve, can we create incentives and inspiration for transformational places that are sustainable in form, function and attention to the past?  I have touched on these questions before, when highlighting hill towns as placemaking icons and profiling Italy’s re-emerging Matera, the UNESCO World Heritage site also termed “the sustainable city of stone” (in The Atlantic last year).

When considering these questions about a transition from old to new, focused  more on a city than buildings, for me there is one place  that deserves a very hard look: Split, Croatia (another UNESCO World Heritage site).  Amid the old town center within and next to the ruins of the retirement palace of the Roman Emperor Diocletian, adaptive reuse is defined at first sight on an urban scale—a place which began as something different from it is today, yet lives on in the new clothing of another age—as more juxtaposition than reinvention.

I was lucky enough to first visit Split in 1968, in the old Yugoslavia, and to return many times in the years that followed. It’s not a stretch to say that its impressionable story explains my legal work in urban redevelopment. There, the survival and reuse of historic elements tells a valuable tale of sustainability, with lessons learned about human capacity to reuse and adapt the built environment.

Shortly after 300 A.D., on the site of Split’s town center, workers completed Diocletian’s Palace.  Diocletian was the first Roman Emperor to voluntarily abdicate, and retire in the modern sense; he viewed the palace as a purposeful respite from power in his home region, possibly for medical reasons.  

After Diocletian’s death, the palace was first a refuge for exiled imperial family members.  Then, through serendipity, after destruction of the nearby Roman city of Salona by the Avars and Slavs at the beginning of the seventh century, the palace became a shelter for fleeing citizens, later a medieval town, a Renaissance regional center, and eventually a major city—surprisingly, with core elements of the palace still prominent today.

Thomas Swick’s essay, Croatian Pop (South Florida Sun Sentinel, 2000, and later reprinted in The Best American Travel Writing, 2001) captures the spirit of Split best, with a poetic vent which rivals the best descriptions of active public places:

I slid through more right-angled alleys that deposited me into an hallucination: a sunken square hemmed in by antiquities. The delicate remains of a colonnade filigreed one side, and the skeletal façade of a temple, now buttressed by brick… Spotlights dramatized the age-blackened columns, giving the scene a crumbling magnificence, while the cafe tables spread across the peristyle provided a jarring contemporary note. So that welded onto the indoor/outdoor motif — niches and statuary under the stars — was the even more compelling one of ancient and modern: teenagers flirting on ruinous walls; couples drinking in the shadow of the gods. It was like stumbling upon a cocktail party in the Roman Forum.

How was this scene created?

In essence, the palace, which spanned almost 10 acres, contained enough elements of classical urbanity—including the gridded crossroads of a military camp (the ancient castrum and its standard roads, the decumanus and cardo), as well as several ceremonial spaces and religious structures—that when repopulated after the destruction of Salona, it became easily adaptable to what we now consider urban uses.

This unintentional convertibility shows an interesting evolution over time;  A mausoleum became a cathedral, the cardo became the winding medieval street that remains today,  the crossing of the decumanus and cardo at the peristyle (a classical courtyard below the Emperor’s apartments) became a baptistry, public square and historic urban center, and the Emperor’s apartments became the structural framework of a residential area.

Due to the interesting progression of the palace to city, Split has drawn visitors for hundreds of years. The Scottish architect Robert Adam profiled its unrivaled preservation of Roman architecture in 1764, through collected drawings, viewable here, often acknowledged as inspiration for the Georgian architectural tradition of parts of London, Bath and Bristol.

In the last century, many excavations and publications by local and American teams have admirably documented the palace’s history and transformation (including the often cited work of Jerko and Tomas Marasovic’, whom I had the honor of meeting as a teenager).  In a 1970 book, the Marasovic’ brothers advocated a universal message in the context of continuing investigation, discovery and restoration to “ensuring…renewed function within the context of a modern urban community”.

While Split guidebook references contain cursory summaries of the palace’s story, the confluence of past and present discussed here, is not often mentioned in the American dialogue, nor is it consistently cited as prospective learning for cities around the world.  This a missed opportunity.

I believe that visiting Diocletian’s Palace and reflecting on how the old can blend with the new provides incomparable perspective. This can add value to today’s discussion of familiar building restoration approaches, or even already innovative, largely replacement-style redevelopment of areas like a former military base, an airport (e.g. the former Stapleton Airport in Denver), or an institutional campus.  The scale of adaptation in Split confirms how humans can be at home and enriched by large-scale incorporation of the past.

A National Geographic Center for Sustainable Destinations summary of Split hints at the potential lessons:

There was little in the way of organized tourism around the ruins—–there was an outdoor café in the middle of them. However, I found this integration of the historic and the contemporary to be quite pleasing.

Split is one of those places best experienced firsthand, to fully realize the true experience of place—and witness how people live, work and entertain while integrating the history around them.  Short of an actual visit,  several of Peter Watts’ 360 degree photographs at the Panoramic Earth website approximate the experience,  here, one of which is embedded below.  Family life exists amid shops, restaurants and bars, with more recent wayfinding signs summarizing venues at the head of narrow streets.

Swick aptly continues:

But what really distinguishes the complex today is not its size or its symmetries but its fantastic utilitarianism. It is not just that people now gather where Praetorian Guards once strolled, but that they live here. In what must stand as one of the world’s, if not first, at least most spectacular instances of adaptive reuse, the citizens of Split blithely built their dwellings within the palace. They grafted their humble residences onto the walls and filled in the arcades with bedroom windows. Just as weeds sprout among ruins in other lands, here it’s houses. (It is almost as if, after the Cultural Revolution, the Chinese had erected apartment blocks in the Forbidden City.)  …I would stroll the grounds shaking my head in wonderment at the curtained front doors next to erstwhile temples, the soccer balls sailing past toppled pillars. I could not walk along the waterfront promenade without staring up in amazement at the stately columns embedded in the condo façade, and occasionally bookending sagging lines of wash.

In other cities, some historic urban cores survive, and there are many examples—from Istanbul to Venice to Jerusalem—even Dubrovnik to Split’s south.  Old towns, often within formerly defensive walls, become functional, large-scale artifacts, some evolved urban areas and some tourist meccas.  In contrast to Split, they were always, first and foremost, cities or towns.

Moving forward, we should design and regulate in a way that the inadvertence described here becomes more purposeful, enabling sustainable reuse on a broader scale.  Examples include zoning and building code provisions that anticipate land assembly and not property-by property approaches, that allow for convertible uses in buildings, that provide for a robust mixture of old and new materials, and the outright recognition that both public and private spaces can realize new uses over time, with only minor reconfiguration.  Lenders, often the true drivers of development, should understand the benefits of such reactivated places.

Indeed, some states and cities have policies encouraging the concept of adaptive reuse.  For instance, Los Angeles has a 12-year-old adaptive reuse ordinance, which encourages live-work revitalization in certain areas of the city.  It is under study for improvement and expansion.

While these examples show that not all buildings are alike, and best practices can make a better place, none tell the more holistic, inspirational story of how human settlements, as a whole, adapt to a changing environment.

Throughout history, cities have fulfilled central cultural, economic and religious roles as a both centers of settlement and qualitative measures of human habitat.  To reinvent them (or juxtapose the best of the past), we need to know where we have been and where we are going, at more than a building scale.

Image credits: Comparative aerial photos from Wikipedia under a Creative Commons license; Pike Station garage, narrow Split street and Professor Myer R. Wolfe sketch via the author; panorama embed via Peter Watts/panoramicearth.com. Click on each image for more detail.

A similar version of this post first appeared in The Atlantic Cities and was recently republished on Crosscut.