Category: infrastructure

movement and settlement, upside down

On By Chuck WolfeIn everyday urbanism, housing, infill development, infrastructure, pedestrianism, placemaking, urban viewsLeave a comment

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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.

nine lessons learned from the landscape of Iceland

On By Chuck WolfeIn everyday urbanism, infrastructure, pedestrianism, placemaking, sustainability, urban views1 Comment

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I believe in the value of visiting contrasting places–divorced from the familiar—in order to read landscapes of shelter, wheels, weather, landforms and light. From these observations, our urban dialogues gain their basis, and to my mind, their sustenance.

I like to bring this purposeful travel home, first, for visual inspiration, and second, to inform professional practice regarding settlements and cities. I found fodder for both a few days ago in Iceland, amid a basalt terrain of lava fields seemingly created only yesterday, among contemporary accounts of renewable energy and epic stories of settlement dating back little more than a thousand years.

In Icelandic landscapes, in small towns, and in the resurgent capital city of Reykjavik, are scenes and stories that transcend nature, culture and the built environment. In the imagery of such places, we see scaled expressions of urban settlement and transport, both past and present, including dramatic examples of human interactions with the raw elements of nature.

Others have described how the legendary sagas that help define the country’s national identity largely lack a description of visual surroundings, but rather center on elements of humanity and survival. As a modern supplement, here is my more image-oriented summary of lessons learned from Iceland’s interplay of the natural and built environments, including human capacity to adapt to the opportunities and constraints of place.

1.  Measure urban sustainability by clarity of the sky at night

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The legendary Northern Lights dominate the evening. Why not use clarity of the night sky as a new measure of city sustainability?

2.  Encourage minimalism that blends with surrounding nature

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A small church and outbuilding on the Snæfellsnes peninsula honor natural surroundings with simplicity and scale.

3.  Allow fusion businesses and food trucks in an urban setting

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A branch of Copenhagen’s cutting edge Laundromat Cafe and a contemporary food truck show Reykjavik as consistent with worldwide urbanist trends.

4.  Provide street retail integrated with sidewalk life

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Streetside shopping activates the sidewalk in Reykjavik.

5.  Use building color to make a statement in all seasons

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In Stykkishólmur, an iconic red offsets winter weather.

6.  Champion practical building materials consistent with tradition

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Where native trees are scarce and light is variable (short in winter, long in summer), color and corrugated iron cladding have replaced turf, stone and concrete as dominant building features in Reykjavik.

7.  Employ simple materials for monuments, blended with surroundings

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In Borgarnes, a symbol of human significance echoes surrounding nature.

8.  Foster the interaction of urban fabric with an iconic city pond

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In Reykjavik, the historic town and a modern city hall frame Tjörnin, the best-known small waterbody in Iceland.

9.  Recall the contrast of the man-made with landscape and clouds

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Throughout the country, unrivaled cloud formations offset paving and structure.

To fully understand cites, I believe we should return to places where human settlement still stands in awe of larger forces, and to view the nascent built environment with discernment and care. For me, last week’s fundamental journey to Iceland, largely beyond the echo chambers of placemaking and policy, was a primer on the very underpinnings of human movement, settlement and consequent urbanization.

To supplement this limited introduction to Iceland’s sense of place, I urge readers to consult a wealth of available information about other, equally relevant aspects of the country, such as an atmosphere nearly free of pollutants and the successes of sustainable geothermal energy—not to mention the long, dramatic history of colonization, postwar independence, emergence from poverty and contemporary reinvention after the 2008 financial crisis (symbolized by the remarkable success of Reykjavik’s unique Mayor, Jón Gnarr).

This post first appeared in similar form at The Atlantic Cities, here.

Thanks particularly to Mark Johnson of Civitas, whose proud Icelandic heritage gave me a crash course in Iceland that fostered a much keener eye.

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

realigning nature and the city, coyote style

On By Chuck WolfeIn everyday urbanism, infrastructure, pedestrianism, sustainability, urban viewsLeave a comment

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Successful integration of nature and the city is a hallmark of sustainability. Sometimes it occurs without effort or provocation, while other times it results from  projects or plans. In both instances, the natural and artificial merge, morph and redefine urban reality going forward.

Last week, on a Seattle winter evening, my dog and I stood at a neighborhood street corner in a spontaneous meeting with an urban coyote who, for several moments, owned my neighborhood pavement with conviction. Upon our rounding a corner and coming face-to-face, the  coyote cast a long stare (with those “I am not a pet” eyes I once saw in Africa), turned around, and moved on.  For this feral, walkable urbanist, the city sidewalk was clearly as customary a migration route as wooded paths or the open plain.

Several recent articles address the growing presence of coyotes in urban areas as an indicator of changing relationships between the city and larger, surrounding ecosystems.  Whether considered pests or admirable interlopers, they are increasingly sharing (PDF) our places and spaces.

A landscape architect friend explained this integration as a merger of surrounding nature with urban culture and physical form, two things that need not be as distinct as we might expect.  In my recent experience, no longer separate from the city, an animal corridor aligned with the sidewalk, a mainstay of  urban transportation.  I saw a spontaneous integration of nature and the city without any “urban sustainability plan” in place to allow indigenous wildlife safe passage on city streets.

This “city in nature” is not the same as calculated insertions of “nature in the city”, where artificial edifices are more systematically undone and replaced with fundamental green.  I recently saw a good example of the latter across the world, while touring the Madrid Rio Project (PDF) by bicycle. This large-scale linear park was built as the M-30 motorway relocated within a submerged tunnel, allowing for restoration of the Manzanares River above.

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There, I spoke with another landscape architect about what it means to reprogram places from built to natural. In particular, we discussed a former motorway ramp (shown here) that now displays greened pedestrian space imposed on the former roadway, complemented by its  elegant (and once autocentric) river-hugging form and artful curve.  He explained the approach: At core, there is nothing natural in the city, he said, and anything we can do that resonates with the public and creates a sustainable result, is defensible, proper and legitimate.

Through the experiences described here, and the respective views of the two landscape architects, I’ve learned more than expected about the ways urban and natural systems can merge and redefine.  Whether nature embraces the city by coyote habitat adopting urban infrastructure, or a project brings back nature to the city, such as in Madrid, there are some common themes to consider.

  • Few themes are more basic than the intersection of nature and the urban environment.
  • This theme is  elemental to urban ecologists and landscape architects as well, to whom habitat restoration can play a key project role.
  • As championed by Harvard Professor Joan Busquets, the most sustainable cities integrate natural geography and systems into the urban fabric.
  • The first landscape architect is right in his observation that nature, culture and physical form–once separated, now more easily merge.
  • The second landscape architect is also right; multiple approaches exist to introduce the natural to the built environments, and  innovation that resonates—from greened ramps to restored beaches to vertical gardens—need not honor authenticity or precedent if done sustainably.

In the end, watching the coyote’s use of the sidewalk also taught me that while there is arguably nothing natural in the constructed city, the proposition has its exceptions, or compromises. For instance, in addition to common advice about coexistence with urban coyotes—such as protecting small pets at night, there is a larger issue at play:  From multiple perspectives, the role of nature and the city will continue to realign.

In fact, before too long, our cities’ versions of Madrid’s green, repurposed motorway ramp  may have some non-human users along the way.

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

Today’s post first appeared in similar form in THe Atlantic Cities, here.

how we should use pictures to think about cities

On By Chuck WolfeIn everyday urbanism, infrastructure, pedestrianism, placemaking, urban views, vignettes1 Comment

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The actor and director Orson Welles once said:

“I dont believe in learning from other people’s pictures. I think you should learn from your own interior vision of things and discover, as I say, Innocently, as though there had never been anybody.”

I agree, and apply Welles’ point of view to portrayal and comprehension of the urban environment. I learn about cities by shuffling my own photographs—not others’—and comparing similar human activities in different places.

For me. what stands out in this case?

Four contrasting photos of the American crosswalk and Barcelona’s Las Ramblas show direct, inspirational differences in the relation between people and public rights of way. Determined, mechanistic crossings on the left contrast with the ambiance of street life on the right. Photos like these freeze the activity in view, allowing novel dissection of everyday transactions which we otherwise take for granted.

In the American crosswalks, I see the pedestrians in separate spaces, on their way to a distant elsewhere, and not part of the street they traverse. Their perpendicular disconnection with the right of way is particularly clear from my camera’s vantage point.

In Barcelona, the vantage point on a walking street merges with the activity around it. There is a unity of people with their surroundings, and stares are not empty, but engaged with the adjacent place.

From thoughtful composition of one’s own, simple urban photographs, stories unfold, which both define problems and suggest solutions. But in their own experience, regardless of the imagery, some readers may prefer a crosswalk’s anonymity to the proximity (and pickpockets) of walking streets and tourist lore.

Those individual preferences make my very point. Here, rather than dictate walkability to others with my pictures, I show and tell.

However, like Orson Welles, I urge readers to think for themselves about what they see, and draw conclusions from their own vision, photos not required. Allowing for multiple perspectives about what is best in the city is a practice that I highly recommend.

This post first appeared in similar form in The Atlantic Cities, here.

Images composed by the author in Seattle and Barcelona. Click on the image for more detail. © 2009-2013 myurbanist. All Rights Reserved. Do not copy.

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

On By Chuck WolfeIn everyday urbanism, infill development, infrastructure, lessons learned, placemaking1 Comment

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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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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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.