citywalker

Invisible Cities: The city of memory

2011-09-10T19:23:48Z

In the city, sometimes it's hard to remember what was there before what's there now existed. It may have been a building you used, enjoyed, admired as you walked past. It burned or was neglected to death or demolished for new development. How easily it is forgotten.

There are iconic buildings that are remembered even if never seen in actuality. For example, every time I walk by the "sinking ship" parking garage I see the old Hotel Seattle that it replaced. How could this tiny garage be more valuable than that building? Its loss was the impetus for historic preservation in Seattle. It may have eventually been lost anyway, to fire or earthquake, we'll never know, now.

We lose bits, or major portions, or even entire cities for reasons preventable or not (think climate change; earthquake). Many places are thoroughly documented in the digital record thanks to omnipresent cameras and cellphones. I'm not up to date on the tech but I believe there are apps that can show you the historic record of the place in the city you are currently looking at. You might see the city in composed layers of transparency and diffusion, like layers of history over time (see poem in previous post).

This reminds me of Italo Calvino's novel Invisible Cities, where Marco Polo is using objects from cities he has visited to explain them to Kublai Khan, who doesn't share a common language. Now (or soon) we can say "there's an app for that".

On design in the context of history

2011-09-10T18:04:42Z

Contrast and balance of past and present
Compressive stone, tensile steel
Steady past containing (in part)
The springing moment of now
History and its secrets hold
A new language, to be deciphered
Over time.

Light invades the depths, askew
Gently washing bones of ancient earth
Worked and placed by long-dead hands
More brashly it meets the youthful now
Sometimes stubborn, unperceptive, impenetrable
Rejecting, reflecting what is offered
But gradually, as it deepens and matures,
Accepts in part, and sometimes completely
In composed layers of transparency and diffusion,
Like layers of history over time.

Past and present in dialogue
Face to face, acknowledging
But ever separate.

This untitled poem was part of a project in the historic preservation district in downtown Austin, Texas. I like to think poetry and art are relevant parts of the design process.

The Weight of History

2011-09-10T10:30:58Z

I was dismayed to read that this building in London was to be demolished as part of the rebuild of London Bridge Station. As part of a grad student project I had developed my own plan for the station which retained this building. How could this destruction be allowed to happen? I looked at it for a while until I could understand the reasoning. "Let it go", a commenter said. Letting go can be difficult.

It's something I struggle with, as I personally love old buildings in cities. I also love density, adaptability, and survival of the cities I love, and sometimes those things are hard to reconcile. Older buildings have elements of hand craft and diversities of scale in the details that are rarely seen with modern construction methods. Mixes of buildings from different eras of history add to the interest of the cityscape and give a sense of continuity, of caring investment, of permanence.

Yet buildings are not permanent. Walking around Seattle I take note of all the buildings that will be lost in the next big earthquake. Or the beautiful and well-used low-rise buildings in areas that need to grow, to accommodate more people in the space these precious beauties occupy. I think of cities much older than ours that could easily be crushed and suffocated by the massive weight of their own history.

London deals with its history in pragmatic ways that sometimes seem destructively cruel. Venice, a city that for centuries rebuilt itself on the higher foundations of previous generations of buildings, is drowning because it tried to freeze history at a certain glorious point in time.

We may be losing many coastal cities in the future. Cities are organisms, ecosystems, they have to adapt or die. Do we perform triage, allowing loss of some (buildings) for the greater good, for overall survival? How do we learn to say goodbye, to admit when it may be time to let go? It's a painful question for which I don't have a satisfactory answer.

Seattle Spaces, Gray or Great: They don't just fall from the sky

2011-05-19T18:31:58Z

It was a Twitter post from Project for Public Spaces (@ PPS_Placemaking) that caught my eye. "Inquiry into Seattle's many failed attempts at Placemaking", it read, and linked to this Crosscut article, "Why does Seattle have so many bleak public spaces?" by Lawrence W. Cheek, former Seattle P-I architecture critic. The substitute for the P-I no longer supports such things as architecture critics, but they still exist.

If interested you should read that article, it drew a lot of fairly reasoned commentary. What jumped out at me, though, was the difference between the examples Mr. Cheek listed as successful as opposed to the failed (meaning dead and bleak and without public life) ones. The Federal Courthouse plaza was marked as a success. It has a beautiful and lively design, but the success is not just because of that. It's because there are security guards at the top of the steps, federally funded, who make sure no bad behavior takes place.

Our truly public spaces, the ones that belong to the city and are maintained through city funds are bleak because there are no funds for operations and maintenance. If there is a lovely living landscape, someone has to maintain it. Water features have to be cleaned of trash, leaks repaired and pumps maintained. If the design is interesting and variable, it creates spaces where bad behavior can occur and will, unless you have either authoritative presence to prevent it, or enough varied and lively activities to draw lots of people throughout the day that provide safety in numbers.

It's a vicious cycle. Normally it's fairly easy to get funding for capital improvements, the initial big expenditures, such as acquiring and building new parks and urban spaces. What's much more difficult is funding the ongoing operations and maintenance costs. Because the people who will be responsible (i.e. Parks) know this in advance, it's very difficult to get "high maintenance" park plans approved unless there are outside guarantors, business and community groups, who will agree to take on responsibility for O&M. This in now happening with the Bell Street Park, for example. It happened with little McGraw Square; the design was to include water runnels but was built without them, because they would have to be cleaned and maintained. There's precious little living landscaping, for the same reason.

Bryant Park in NYC is often mentioned as a successful public space. It's successful because the city hired a vendor to intensively manage programming, actively recruiting and organizing public events to keep the space active and lively, to keep the unchained and movable tables and chairs from disappearing. Seattle does this, to some extent, for Westlake Park but for few other spaces. This is an expensive but apparently necessary proposition. When we ask the city for parks and open spaces, are we willing to pay the true ongoing costs?

1912 Baist's Map of Belltown

2010-11-28T20:45:35Z

The incomparable Paul Dorpat has given Seattle a great gift - many gifts, actually, over the years, but this one is mind-boggling. He had a set of 1912 Baist's Real Estate Maps for Seattle, originally gifted to him by a retired real estate salesman. With the technical savvy and aid of Ron Edge, who produces the Edge Clippings feature of Paul's blog, the maps were photographed, digitized and made into indexed, interactive pdf files. The maps and how they were digitized are here.

There are 34 plates you can browse and even download. Most of Belltown, along with Uptown, is on Plate 8, pictured above. One item of immediate interest is the dashed line overlay of the Bogue Plan, which would have put a new civic center for Seattle in the heart of what is now Belltown. This plan included rapid rail transit from the steamship dock on Elliott Bay, and a huge station on Lake Union with a tunnel under Lake Washington to Mercer Island, which would have been a 4,000 acre park under this plan. This ambitious, to say the least, City Beautiful plan was voted down in 1912.

Another notable feature is the street end rights-of-way that extend past the piers to the Outer Harbor line, at the same angle as the piers. That just suggests all sorts of possibilities. These maps are a wealth of information and will be a lot of fun to play with. Thank you, Paul Dorpat.

beautiful days in the neighborhood

2010-10-17T21:19:14Z

We've been having some fine sunny fall days, and glad for it - but there's more than that to be happy for. If you only read the occasional news or SPD blotter report - short and limited to specific and negative content, in most cases - Belltown gets a bad reputation. For most of us living here, that's not the Belltown we know.

Most of the bad stuff happens two nights a week, between 10 pm and 4 am. If you care to count, that's twelve hours out of 280 hours in the week. Even if you counted the other weeknights, there are still 240 hours of the week for good things to happen. Normal, everyday good things that are not newsworthy, but can be appreciated by those experiencing them. Belltown might be an "Entertainment District", a regional destination, 15% of the week, but its a neighborhood 100%, all the time.

You can cross Second Ave on a sunny morning, pause, and count 24 people walking between Bell and Blanchard, for instance. Eight are sitting outside in front of businesses, even though its a bit cool out and not yet lunchtime.

In the afternoon the dog park is full of dogs, but outnumbered by people - too many to stop and count, but looks like forty or fifty, maybe. Both dogs and people climb the Regrade sculpture, vying for King of the Mountain. There's a light rain and two young girls are sitting under a dog training ramp, using it as a tent. There are children in Belltown, a small percentage of our nearly 12,000 residents, but they are here. They aren't out between 10 pm to 4 am. For them this is only a good neighborhood, with lots to see and do and places to go.

There's a "LEASED" sign at the new commercial space under Bhakita Gardens at Second and Bell. Work is flying along in the old Flying Fish space, putting in tenant stalls for the new Local 360 Market. We lose a regional restaurant, but gain a local service business. Something good for the neighborhood. That's a change worth thinking about. Good news.

Back in the City

2010-10-04T15:34:23Z

My mother drove me from one corner of the country to the other in four days. I was still pretty incapacitated, but anxious to be back for the Seattle Founders Day Festival in Belltown. I was playing Mother Damnable. I had spent weeks of illness-enforced time indoors sewing a period correct costume, undergarments (petticoat, drawers, chemise, corset) included. I sewed finishing touches by hand in the car, on the way.

We stopped along the way - in Paducah, Kentucky, then to see Mount Rushmore - so she drove 22 hours the last day to get me to Seattle in time for the festival. That weekend the temperature was in the nineties, the hottest of an otherwise cool summer. My internal thermostat was artificially regulated by my medication, so the full costume was bearable, aided by the shade from a parasol - an extremely practical item.

I had moved to a different apartment, still in Belltown, just days before flying to Florida. I had been considering it for months. When my old lease was about to expire, I took the final step towards going car-free and sold my Prius, which I had only driven about four times in the previous year. Free of the need for car storage, I rented a smaller studio in a vintage building in the heart of Belltown, just two blocks from Bedlam, my favorite coffee shop and neighborhood living room.

Everything is more convenient here. The Walk Score at my previous address was 97. Now I get a perfect 100 for both Walk Score and Transit Score, and the difference is very evident. The old address was by the Sculpture Park, which was lovely but I didn't really visit that often. My primary destinations were in or towards downtown. A bit far to walk comfortably with shopping or for multiple trips, and inefficient from a transit standpoint (just outside the free zone but too close to make sense of paying full fare or waiting for the bus).

The move was another downsize (to 400 sf, down from 700 sf, which was down from the 900 sf house I sold). I selected the space in preparation for (perhaps) inhabiting a London bedsit for a year or more. I miss a few pieces of midcentury modern furniture I had to give up, but the space works out quite well. The location is the selling point, as most of my favorite destinations are nearby. I go to the Market almost every day. It's so good to be back.

In the Dark

2010-10-03T17:15:52Z

This blog was dark for a time. This is an explanation.

I almost died. It wasn't that serious a cause, normally; Grave's Disease hyperthyroidism that built up subtly for months, undiagnosed and unsuspected, until it reached a critical toxicity. Overproduction of thyroid hormone raised my metabolism. I lost almost 60 pounds. My heart rate rose above 140 bpm, became erratic, and threatened to stop altogether.

I thought I was being very healthy and enjoying the result. Watched what I ate. Had at least two servings of fruits and vegetables a day. Walked a few brisk miles each day, worked out at the gymn. I could see bones and muscle definition that I had hardly ever seen in my life except during times of illness or starvation. Yet I felt healthier than ever before, and congratulated myself.

I had nothing to do with it. It wasn't because I was suddenly doing all the right things. I wish people with naturally high metabolism would recognize their sheer genetic luck. Mine was due to a disease, an autoimmune disorder sort of like lupus. Grave's Disease causes the body's immune system to attack very specific tissues; primarily the thyroid gland and tissues similar to thyroid - the muscles around and behind the eyes, under the skin, the fingernail beds of the fourth and fifth fingers.

It raised my metabolism to dangerous levels. It started last year, with something like hives, itchy red spots that had me looking for bedbugs. The weight loss began the same time as a wellness competition at work, which I gave the credit to. Then came heart palpitations, shortness of breath. I would be in a meeting, speaking or about to speak, when my chest would go still, just come to a halt. I couldn't speak. My anxiety levels rose. I thought it was panic attacks. I was shaky, with tremors in my hands and the long muscles of my arms and legs. I began to have muscle wasting and weakness. After a few months of that and worse I left my job, thinking the symptoms were stress-related.

It came to a head when I went to Florida for an aunt's memorial service. The heat was like a blow to the chest. I couldn't breathe or walk. The sunlight was painful. I was constantly and hugely hungry, eating day and night, yet rapidly losing weight. I went to my mother's doctor, who immediately sent me to an emergency room, beginning a round of doctors and cautions about suddenly dropping dead.

I had a radioactive iodine treatment in an attempt to kill the thyroid gland and was told to wait a few days before driving home, as I might poison every public restroom on my route across the United States. I'm not infectious and no longer poisonous. The thyroid issue is unresolved and will be for at least another six months. But I'm finally back home in the city.

At the Salmon Homecoming, More Thoughts on the Waterfront

2010-09-18T00:21:55Z

I'm a fan of Park(ing) Day, but rather than roaming around looking for participants I went to the waterfront to check out the Salmon Homecoming. The first thing I noticed was the Waterfront Fountain, turned off to prevent overspray. It was very reminiscent of the ruined columns of the Embarcadero elevated freeway after Loma Prieta, and the remnant they had left along the waterfront for a time. There's a lot of interest in preserving some portion of our viaduct, as memorial ruin or observation deck. Maintenance is a big issue there. If it's fallling down, you have to put in some work to keep it standing.

There were plenty of people out on a gray, foggy and then drippy day. Lots of them were Nebraska fans in red, unwittingly resembling flows of spawning salmon. The outdoor part of the festival wasn't much to speak of - Restore Our Waters had a booth of T-shirts for $15, and the Lummi tribe had barbecued salmon dinners, frybread, and a lemonade stand. The salmon serving was huge and delicious.

I sat next to a familiar face, Gary, 72, of the Makah tribe, who you can often find sitting outside the Blue Moon Tavern. He'll be quick to tell you that he doesn't drink, he just likes mixing with the people that come by. That's how I first encountered him, on a group photowalk (with the Alives in the Superunknown - I miss our walks). Some of the Lummi folk sat down to eat and asked where his tribe is. He says Neah Bay. There was some talk of tribal funds and he said he hoped his money would arrive soon.

I had refused the sodas that came with the meal, so he handed me a small bottled water from his bag. I ate, said goodbye and went on my way, off to Market to shop. No fat pigs purchased (unless you count sausages), but I always say hello to Rachel.

My usual route leaving the Market is to walk north on Western, where I always look for the Williams family out carving. I first met Rick Williams when my mother was in town. She purchased a small owl totem - a 1937 pattern, handed down in the family - from Rick's 16-year old son Thunderheart Dave. "You're good" she told him, "but not as good as your father", who had a larger totem he had been working on for months. When I first heard of the shooting of Rick's brother, John T. Williams, I was horrified, thinking it was the man we had met, and still horrified when I got the identities straight. They're on the benches carving in good weather, and the younger generation on weekends, now that school is in.

It's a great relief to see them there, each time. You don't know how much you'll miss something until you think its gone. There was a lot of talk, at the waterfront presentations, about First Peoples and incorporating native heritage and input. They are still here, and active, friends and neighbors, part of day-to-day life in Seattle, if you look.

public space has a price tag

2010-09-17T20:01:56Z

The use of the Fun Forest site at Seattle Center controversy rages on, with the selection of the Chihuly exhibit as the most appropriate of nine proposals submitted. In an ideal world, I, like others, was completely enamored of the Urban Forest open space, that encircling green grove expanding in concentric waves outward from the Space Needle, and felt the walled, private, for-profit one-more-in-the-chain glass exhibit to be a gross intrusion. We in Uptown and in Belltown, especially, are crying out for park space, being about 5 acres short of our 13-plus acre projected need through 2025. That Urban Forest shown in the Seattle Center masterplan images had a mighty appeal.

The problem is that Seattle Center is not a park. It is publicly owned - we own it, via the city - but it has to raise revenue for two-thirds of its funding. We only pay, via taxes to the general fund, one-third of Seattle Center expenses. It's fine to say what we would like there - but we haven't exactly put our money where our mouths are, and what we want isn't going to appear for free. Seattle citizens are more willing to tax themselves for a good cause than in any other city I know - but surely there are limits to such largesse?

We could, with some time and effort, change the purpose and funding of Seattle Center. If we want a park there, a portion might be put under control of the Parks Department - which is severely underfunded as is. All budgets are in shambles right now, but in order to get what we want, we may need to focus on fixing and funding the Parks department, long-term - rather than trying to change or parcel off the governance of Seattle Center, which is its own beast.

The Urban Forest is part of the 20-year time frame of the Seattle Center masterplan, and under that plan would be the last piece scheduled for completion. Until then that site was intended to generate revenue for the other big moves of the plan. Twenty years is a long time, and many of us won't be around to enjoy the Urban Forest, which in twenty years may morph to something else entirely. That's what happens with long-term masterplans; that's why the image is not a "design" per se - just a visualization of concepts and principles of a plan.

Visualizations these days are so realistic, however, that a concept takes on concrete shape and form in our minds. A solid, private exhibit that many of us locally will not enjoy certainly doesn't fit that vision - but bringing the vision to reality has a high price tag. Even with our generous tax levies, we in Seattle rely heavily on public-private partnerships and patrons with deep pockets to help create significant public good. Perhaps we have to let the Wright family, via Chihuly exhibit receipts, help pay for this one. I can only wish it were otherwise.

Seattle Central Waterfront: Fast Forward

2010-09-16T11:29:54Z

This time it is happening, really. After decades of visions, plans, and discussion; studies, input and concepts from panels, commissions, committees and thousands of individuals; and the bumps, grinds and halts of Seattle "process" - now there's a deadline, and a short one at that.

It has to happen now. Why? Because of this infamous visualization and the facts behind it. The seawall is unsafe now, right now, as you walk or drive along it, dine on the waterfront, board a ferry or other vessel. Seawall alternatives are being designed, now. The waterfront framework plan and concepts have to be far enough along before April next year, that's right, April 2011, to help frame the design of the new seawall, because construction starts in 2012. That's a short fuse, unrealistically so, but public safety (lives - yours, mine) is at stake.

Those are just some of the reasons why there was so much excitement over the four shortlisted Central Waterfront design teams last night at Benaroya Hall, with a good crowd of around 1200 turning out for the show, even though no designs or concepts were to be presented. This show was about process, our infamous Seattle process, and how well equipped the teams are to work with, under, and around that process. Questions were submitted by the public and again by the audience for the teams. The main question in my mind was: How will you deal with the different and conflicting public stakeholder desires and needs? In other words, can you produce magic under the constrictions of our process?

We the Public are not part of the selection process

The four finalists are the best of the best. They were selected out of a field of 30 applicants. The selection panel has already decided that each team meets the essential qualifications, including design ability.

But physical design is not their only task, or even the biggest one. The biggest task is a 50-year Framework Plan to guide what will happen when, and the "if...then" sort of arguments. Something that takes so long to complete can't be designed all at once.

Second is a concept plan, guiding principles, overall vision and sort of "rules of play" for how future elements will be designed as part of the whole.

Then, the winning team will actually get to design, in full, some central piece of the waterfront which will be determined as part of the previous processes. That's the gravy.

The purpose of the exercise at Benaroya was for the teams to show the selection panel how they approach public interaction as part of the design process. Any one of these teams could do the job, presumably - but only one will be selected.

Following is a brief rundown of salient points and first impressions for each of the four teams, and the particular questions they were asked (for answers, view the presentations). Anything beyond straight observation is strictly subjective personal opinion, colored by my own experience or lack of, and won't affect the final choice in the least as it is not up for vote. To form your own opinions (which should be preferable) view the presentations in entirety here and visit the websites of the leads and subs as well.

There were some basic elements that all the teams covered - green sustainable design, diverse uses rather than big park or open space, multiple neighborhoods and the importance of east-west connections.

Wallace Roberts & Todd

First Impressions: Going first is a tough spot to be in but they presented strongly.

Positives: Impressive team. Knowledgeable, locally rooted - 4Culture and the artists behind the last big waterfront design push. SRG - practical know-how plus good design sensibilities. Good engagement philosophy, with understanding of the strength of the "right design" and that you can never please everyone "100%". This is important - design by consensus doesn't work; how does the strength of the design team come into play?

Negatives: Couldn't see any, which makes me suspicious of my own judgment.

Some points:

Thick Seam concept of waterfront edge
Not just a park or open space, layered, intelligent continuity of movement
Rain is an event and a celebration, a reason to go to the waterfront
Engagement: The Table is Set
Every phase of the planning and design is a citizens festival on the waterfront
What Ifs?
Walking environment experts from Atkins as a sub (big deal for me)

Questions for the team (This team had some of the better questions):

How will you respect, address all previous design efforts, that history?
What are your principles for designing with democracy?
How do you balance an urban working waterfront with natural ecosystems?
What are different types of "Gathering"?
What are other shore elements to address, different neighborhoods?

james corner field operations

First Impressions: The Outsider. Playing the outsider game to great effect.

Positives: The Outsider. "Coming in without preconceptions - we'll learn from you". The Hi-Line is the great success story of the moment, and he showed understanding of the principles of success there (vistas, perspectives, people places to observe urban theater) that might also apply here. Experience with other water projects as well, and a Green Urbanism, with green finger/tributary/green infrastructure systems that cleaned the water on the way to the bay.

Negatives: The Outsider? This was James Corner's show, the cult of personality, building on success and popularity of Hi-Line. Audience darling - winning the popularity contest. Not so much asked from rest of team - not much evidence of well-integrated collaboration.

Some other points:

Early Wins - Get some benefits in place now, not just 20 years from now
Video of people on waterfront, saying what they want there (with huge background viaduct traffic noise!)

Questions for the team:
Can you describe your approach towards transit integration for all modes?
What is your approach to our debt to the history of the First Nations?
Architectural habits turn to sedimentation over time - how do you change those habits?
How do you keep public spaces safe, active and vibrant?
Would you be interested in recreating the topography, emphasizing the historic bluff?
What was your biggest surprise in this process? (Answer: This question!)

Michael Van Valkenburgh Associates

Some disclaimers here. I worked for Via Architects until recently, and I worked with Ken Greenberg in Ontario.

First Impressions: This was the local heavy hitters team, exemplified by Peter Steinbrueck - who has ultimate insider knowledge of Seattle process. Lots of easy joking banter.

Positives: MVV very impressive, knowledgeable, lots of waterfront experience besides Brooklyn Bridge Park, a focus on feasibility based on maintenance costs - an important understanding. Collaborative team, water harvesting experience locally (Rainier Vista) and in Canada, extensive Ontario waterfront experience. Great transportation experience. Important understanding of maintenance costs and governance as part of design.

Negatives: The first slide read as "white guys posing on the waterfront" and it was kind of offensive, as well as pointless. Please don't ever open like that again.

Some points:

Large models and other visualizations for engagement and public process.
Start with program.
Grit and soul.
Different types of places.
History.
Best line of the night with Regrade slide - "NIMBYism started here".
Surface road pedestrian sovereignty.
Figure out maintenance and governance in advance. (extremely important)

Questions: (This team was hit with some of the toughest, trickiest and most obscure questions of the night. The audience was groaning.)

Long quote from an article re: ...social justice is not part of the language of design...there is a sensitivity to the realities of administering open spaces, ecological realities of successful development...how would you speak to the leaders dealing with those issues? (paraphrased...groan)
Coleman Dock is a large element on the waterfront - how will your approach deal with design opportunities there?
From the waterfront, in what direction are Mt. Constance, Glacier Peak, (etc.)...and how will you respond to view opportunities?
We locals tend to hibernate in the rainy months. How will you make the waterfront attractive to us year round?
Are there bones of place, with potential for re-imagining portions of the existing infrastructure?
How will the waterfront connect to the overall fabric and network of other important public spaces?
What is your approach to integrating our Pacific Northwest transportation infrastructure?

Gustafson Guthrie Nichol

First Impressions: Showy entrance - foreboding more style than substance?

Positives: Strong team, and I have a soft spot for Foster+Partners stemming from my school days. The Trafalgar Square example is a powerful reference, and was done using Space Syntax pedestrian analysis, another of my weaknesses. Atkins is also a subconsultant on this team, a big positive.

Negatives: The initial focus on "flash" seems to be the unfortunate influence of the sub leading the artistic conceptual input (Lead Pencil Studio), and it was detrimental to what is otherwise a strong team of local and international influence. One other knock against Kathryn Gustafson, who was either betraying her own ignorance or assuming that of the audience. Kathryn, we've already done the damage which ensures that a six-inch sea level rise is the baseline, the minimum we can expect. If we don't do the things you were mentioning to reduce climate change, the sea level rise could be much greater than six inches. I know your heart is in the right place, thus you are forgiven, maybe.

Some points:

Healthy City concept/approach
Elliott Bay as Central Park - first city to do this
Pugetopianism - people are here for different reasons, it all needs to be there
Contextualism, local materials and ecology, for small informal spaces
Edge of nature, scale breaks down, streets at finer scale, more crossings
Many types of public space
Some east-west streets can be pedestrian
A city of neighborhoods

Questions:

How has public process ever reshaped your final design?
How will you address the infrastructure opportunities of the seawall and Alaskan Way?
How will you design to deal with sea level rise?
How will you connect the great civic spaces of the city?
Can you guarantee opportunities for fresh insight and fresh discovery?

Final Take: This is strictly personal and therefore of no consequence. Any of the four would suffice, but who might push it to world-class and yet uniquely Seattle? I'm tied in preference for first spot between the WRT team and the MVVA team. If pushed, I might lean towards MVVA because of confidence from familiarity with their work; I might then lean back to WRT because they brought Atkins on board for pedestrian space analysis. I'm a citywalker, when all is said and done.

Final Notes: Thanks to Seattle Parks Foundation for hosting the event, and kudos on the opening of Lake Union Park next week (September 24th-25th).

Shame on everyone involved with the business of the public who insists on conducting that business via Facebook page. You might as well publish it in Mandarin - the majority will benefit, but a significant minority will not, including Facebook refusers such as myself. I don't - and will most likely never - speak Facebook. If I see one more blurb that says "Join the discussion on Facebook!" I may commit an act of violence.

gender neutral: not really

2010-03-20T00:54:11Z

Last night I attended the first birthday bash for SeattlePI.com, the offspring of the failed newspaper (read more about that here or here). Two young women bloggers joined me at my table, one of whom is an architectural student at Yale, on a sabbatical. She related to us how the dean of their architecture school is constantly complaining about young women in architecture school, especially those with children; his reasoning being that they all want to be mothers and raise children and so will never be successful architects. The astonishing thing is that the dean of my architecture school told us something almost identical over twenty years ago. The profession has hardly changed since.

She theorized that it takes a generation for change to happen, as most architects hit their stride at around age 50. I turned 50 recently and I haven't seen a real change. My own problem is that I took the Dean's advice, so many years ago, and waited until the nest was empty to try to start my career, not to best result so far.

What's rather amusing - or perhaps sad - depending on your point of view, is that even men are acknowledging the lack. I'll put a few anecdotal examples out. At a conference last year, I attended a panel discussion. One man decided to diversify our table of women. He pointed out to us that the panel was "all white men". The rest of us were so accustomed to that being the norm that we hadn't really noticed. The same is true in project pursuit interviews. The lead team members participating in the interview are all white men. With a public client diversity is a qualifying requirement, worth points in the point award system. The men know this, and worry, but it seldom makes a difference. Just a few observations, that's all.

Oh, and one more thing - there was never any such thing as "flaneuse". That's why I'm "citywalker".

Vancouver 2010®: The Livable City

2010-03-13T18:29:59Z

Part 2 of A Citywalkers Take: Walking the Livable City looks at what it means for a city to be "livable" and how it applies in Vancouver, at different strata - up and down.

Walking to our office on Homer Street, I am suddenly stricken by a serious case of citylove. I've been here before, but coming back after being in other cities for a couple of years I'm filled with the sense of how comfortable and right this street feels, the sense of human scale in a four-story streetwall, and two well-spaced, attractively proportioned towers on this block offering no sense of intrusion. This is a new block in the famous Vancouver tower and podium style; across the street the block is made up of historic Yaletown low-rise buildings. Balance and beauty, high and low, old and new -I'm very happy to be here.

Vancouverize, Vancouverism. The city that became a verb and and from that a new noun. Rated, again, by The Economist magazine as the most livable city in the world. What does that mean, to be the most livable city? The Economist scores cities across five broad categories: stability; health care; culture and environment; education; and infrastructure.

We in the States, some of us at least, are aware of how Canadian health care compares to ours. Stability, education - highly scored but not something that can be clearly observed while walking the city. Culture? Environment? Infrastructure? High points for these categories are egregiously evident. I'll come back to those soon - but what does it mean to live in Vancouver, or in any good livable city?

To me it has to do with accessibility, access to the necessities, pleasures and pursuits that make city life so positive. Can you easily get to a grocer or market? To restaurants? Entertainment, recreation, and social pursuits? To your job, if there are enough jobs? Is there housing available, accessible in price, of variety to suit different lifestyles and life stages, and close to all of the aforementioned amenities? Is there light and air where you are, and open space close by? If you need to go farther than is comfortable by foot, are there convenient means to get there, by bike or especially transit?

Vancouver Life (for a day or three)

I work through the afternoon in the office (but am being paid by the Seattle office, which I have to make clear at each border crossing), in the open timbered top floor of one of the historic buildings, silently cringing from the aspersions against U.S.A. being tossed about, even here, since our hockey team defeated Canada in the round-robin a few days previous. I've never caught on to athletics or sports and won't be going to any events, but screens are everywhere broadcasting them, and getting caught up in a moment of incredible artistic and physical prowess, the excitement of a game in play, and especially the celebratory atmosphere, is unavoidable.

At end of day it's time to drag my luggage off to find my home while I'm here, an apartment rented by the firm for visiting employees and others. It turns out to be in one of those beautiful Vancouver style towers just a few blocks from the office. It's a third floor unit, on the alley side; a bachelor unit, as they are known here, well-appointed, with many closets and a feeling of spaciousness enhanced by a wall of windows.

There are coffee shops and restaurants of every type lining the nearby streets, and a good-sized corner grocer a block away; there is also a park on the next block. A few blocks away in the West End the streets are more residential and very quiet. These are examples of the variety that make dense urban living a more livable and optimal choice for more people, from singles to retirees to families with children. Out of the many restaurants, shops, and yes, bars (bars and nightlife are actually important to cities in attracting the younger creative class), finding something you want is less a problem than is deciding on one of many choices.

Parks are frequent, even along the open water by the seawall. This is a city that is well connected to most of its waterfront.

Walk through Yaletown on Davie, past the Roundhouse Community Centre and the Urban Fare grocery, where people are sitting at sidewalk tables; past the bicycle shop and the roundabout to the marina, and catch an Aquabus or water ferry to some False Creek destination; or go for a long walk along the seawall. The Coal Harbour trail is packed on a sunny day with people who gave up waiting in line for the Olympic Cauldron.

The new segment of the Seaside Trail past the Olympic Village at Southeast False Creek was closed for security reasons, as was that entire area, even the waterway; I hadn't expected this but should have.

I walked across the Cambie Bridge with many other walkers and cyclists, watching three volunteer staff persons with aqua jackets and security clearances who are the only people walking the seawall.

On the north side of False Creek, facing a seawall full of walkers, joggers and cyclists (including one on a unicycle), two towers are fronted by newish Cooper Park, where dogs are chasing Frisbees and the constant activity has worked the grass to mud. It has a fine playground that sees lots of activity as well, showing that families enjoy life in this livable urban environment.

Livable for All?
Not everyone in downtown lives in fairy tale towers. Vancouver, due to the temperate climate, attracts large numbers of homeless people from across Canada, particularly in winter. These travelers, along with poverty-level full-time residents, have historically been concentrated in the Downtown Eastside, or the DTES. This was once the commercial center of the city, but like other historic urban areas has seen hard times and decay for decades. You can't call the neighborhood downtrodden, however; it's a center of activism. Strathcona (east of DTES) is the neighborhood that organized and managed to halt freeway construction to the downtown in the 1970's, changing the emphasis of transportation infrastructure in the city. The Woodsquat of 2002, protesters, arrests, tent city and all, publicized poverty and homelessness and the need for social housing. So, in 2010, where are all the people?

One summer I was astonished by the crowds of people here. There are supposedly a greater number in winter - but now I hardly see anyone. Emboldened, I duck into the suggestively named Blood Alley. There is a nice treed area here in back of some housing; a few people standing about are eyeing me suspiciously. I feel like an intruder and turn back.

Further along is the 44 unit Pennsylvania Hotel, restored in 2009 for social housing at a cost of around $326,000 per 250 square foot unit. It's expensive to bring a historic building up to code, but it was only slightly more expensive than new construction. The city has a Winter Response Program for seasonal emergency shelter; for 2010 a sixth shelter was added for a total of 500 beds. Funding was provided by the province for another 569 units of permanent housing on six sites, but these are not yet completed.

In protest at the continued housing shortage, activists set up an "Olympic Tent Village" in a vacant lot on West Hastings, with around 140 tents and anywhere from two-dozen to 100 residents from day to day. Originally intended to last only five days, some residents want to keep it going longer, reminiscent of the 90 days of Woodsquat.

Speaking of which, the old Woodwards block (the site of Woodsquat) has been transformed. The original building was retained and the rest of the block rebuilt to include social and market housing; a grocer, drugstore and other retail; and includes the Simon Fraser University contemporary arts program.

One rainy night while standing in the Hastings Street entrance consulting an artwalk map, I had the pleasure of directing people around through the courtyard to get into the Blue Dragon experimental theatre event. This project is considered a catalyst for revitalizing the DTES. It also generates concerns over gentrification, always a tricky balancing act. Old buildings that provide affordable housing eventually decay beyond repair; here it seems that a balance of market investment in new uses plus social housing, combined with public investment in renovation and replacement of social housing, might strike a comfortable balance.

In newly renovated Pigeon Park footsore tourists share the benches with people living out of a backpack or grocery cart. It's all pretty inviting. Invitation is an important part of being a Host City to the World, Olympics or no.

Still to go in this series: Transit City, Green City, Host City, Future City?

Author's note, in case you were wondering: The trademark sign is attached to 2010 in the title because VANOC (the Vancouver Olympic organizing committee) registered it as an "expression" during the Olympics. This is a normal practice for Olympic host cities; I just found it interesting.

Originally posted at VIA Architecture

A Citywalker's Take: Walking the Livable City

2010-03-12T05:03:50Z

Authors note: My nom de plume (or screen) is citywalker. I like to walk in cities, and I like to get cities walking - helping to make them more friendly, accessible and inviting for increasing numbers of citywalkers. There was once a type of citywalker known as "flanéur". As the great majority of us are not nineteenth-century dandified men of leisure, and there never really was any counterpart "flanéuse", I find the term citywalker to be more broadly accessible and acceptable - as, alas, "streetwalker" is not. Thanks to VIA for inviting me to do a citywalk of Vancouver during the Olympics and to write about it here.

I was invited to walk in Vancouver during the Olympics and record my impressions. What a hardship! What a pleasure, more like. I've visited but I don't really know Vancouver, so this will be a visitor's impression. Maybe next they'll ask the opinion of someone who lives there, eh? Actually a visitor's impression may be appropriate for this Host City to the 2010 Olympics.

Vancouver was just ranked by the Economist magazine, again, as the most livable city in the world. It's also one of the most walkable. This is the city that became a verb, "Vancouverize" - in the manner of "Vancouverism", of course. This great city supposedly got even better in order to play host to the world for the Olympics. What was improved? How was it better? How could it have been? What will remain, what will change, when the Olympics are over and the world goes home?

Vancouver Pre-Olympics

The last time I did a real citywalk in Vancouver was in the summer of 2008. Everything was just gearing up for the Olympics. The Millennium Water (soon to play the role of Olympic Village) and other parts of Southeast False Creek were still under construction (and still being paid for by the developer). Evidence of the Canada Line was a big hole at the end of Granville.

Pedestrians and cyclists were still trying to avoid each other while crossing the Burrard Bridge. I like to walk the bridges off the peninsula, then turn and walk back. It's like going to some mystical, mythical island of glittering towers with a dramatic backdrop of snow-capped peaks. (see this citywalker post for a pecha kucha on Vancouver citywalks).

The towers were (and are) glitteringly beautiful; the streets below were then sometimes gritty and unkempt, where used syringes and other negative urban detritus could be found - but not while walking along Robson along with all the international tourists stalking high-end shops. The Inukshuk symbol in Olympic colors was already everywhere.

Water Street in Gastown was packed with pedestrians because it was closed to traffic for a special event, or just for summer crowds, as it has on almost every occasion I've been. Just two blocks away, like some post-apocalyptic vision, the streets, alleys and public spaces were packed with hordes of apparently homeless and/or drug addicted people, out enjoying the fine weather.

DTES has an infamously negative reputation throughout Canada and beyond, but I have never tried to avoid the Downtown Eastside, as it is on an interesting and convenient walking route. In 2009, I took my mother to Vancouver for a day trip, and after lunch in Yaletown walked her over to Gastown by a route I knew. On Abbott Street we stepped over big wet blood spatters on the sidewalk. I checked to make sure she had turned the big diamond of her ring into her palm, feeling a bit guilty for bringing her by that way and for making assumptions about the people we passed.

How were such negative perceptions, and the real social issues behind them, addressed by the Host City? Would hospitality towards the world affect the situation of less fortunate residents? Would it look and feel any different? What changes might be positive and permanent, if any?

I spent much of one pre-Olympic trip enjoying rides on the Skytrain, both the Millennium Line and the Expo, which was put into place for another world event which was a catalyst for permanent, positive change.

The trains whiz by Science World and the stadiums at the end of False Creek, all a positive legacy to Expo '86. The lines continue into the hinterland, and I ride along to see the stations and often very different areas of the stops, planning future walking trips.

Good transit is the friend of the citywalker, as it greatly expands the reach of our feet. Vancouver has transit that was the envy of many cities even before the Canada Line opened. The little trains are like kinetic sculpture to watch in their fast, frequent and elevated comings and goings, as are the Aquabus and False Creek Ferries on their shoreline hops.

Vancouver is the golden coast of Canada, with temperate and often fine weather showcased by a gorgeous natural setting between mountains and water. People get out in good (and not so good) weather, in some places more than others. On some days you might find more people on the trails in Stanley Park, along Sunset Beach or the seawalls than on many downtown streets.

Even on Granville Island, when no festival is scheduled, there are mostly scattered knots of people at different locations, and it can be quite easy to find yourself completely alone there if solitude is what you seek. But will there be any solitude when an extra 200 - 300,000 people come to a town of about 580,000 residents? How do you make sure the transportation systems handle the added load? What planning is involved in order for a city to play host to the world? What is left when the crowds go home, what changes are permanent?

Next in Walking the Most Livable City: Vancouver 2010®. Part 2 will look at life in the livable city. The series will then look at transportation, social issues, sustainability, world event programming vs. local programming, and what might be the legacy of the Olympics for Vancouver.

Originally posted at VIA Architecture

the heart is an undiscovered country

2009-12-10T04:37:03Z

This is the heart of the neighborhood. The current incarnation has existed since 1974, nearly 35 years of continuity anchoring a sense of place within rapid currents of change. True to the name, coming here is like coming home. Comfort and comfort food, familiarity, a firm foundation in a world of shifting sands. A standby, a continuum, where the faithful gather, but always, somehow, new and fresh. Old continually becomes new again, here, by some special magic.

The landscape of memory - a place you think you know, a familiar face - then the light changes, a new picture appears, a certain song starts to play - and everything changes shape, is new again, full of wonder.

A song from the past tugs at the heartstrings of memory: Another time, place, now embodied and brought to be in this moment, here and now, in this special place. The mind travels, takes a journey, while sitting at this table. The afternoon light beams through the windows, casting spells over the eclectic and changing decor, turning the haphazard potted plants into some antediluvian jungle.

Study the old photographs on the walls, one of this building, 70 or 80 years ago, old streetlamps, no trees. One sign reads "Cecelia Cafe", another already has changed to "the New Cecelia Cafe". Jump the decades to another photo with the Mama's neon shining red on snow, on Christmas decorations and many more brightly painted planter boxes than exist now. Here is a birdseye view of Seattle around the time of the 1962 Expo, the Space Needle painted orange and gold, oil tankers at the dock of the then-extant Unocal facility, along with the buildings that were there before the building I live in existed, before Belltown boomed.

Here is a painting of this room, this view, in another time, with a view in the window of a sign on a bookstore across the street, where Bedlam is now. Later, there is a new painting, in the same style, of a more recent interior view. A song starts to play - it takes a moment to place it - Beds are Burning, by Midnight Oil. In this place it is crisp and clear and moving, with a meaning more immediate and evident than at first hearing twenty years ago. The Stones. The Beatles Rubber Soul album. Elvis and Jimi are playing, and are memorialized on the walls, Elvis with his own room. Sometimes the music is live, mariachis who take requests for songs (and are often asked, especially by me, for Guantanamera); or a special performance for a birthday party. An element of the unknown is always on the edge of wandering in, always a chance of surprise, of unexpected delight.

The tablecloths are brightly colored and fruity. Beneath there are, or were, sheets of glass over massive collections of things that you find when cleaning out pockets - business cards, movie ticket stubs, notes and phone numbers, entertaining notebook or napkin sketches, some of which graduate to the wall, briefly. In the summer people wait in line for a table, the day is long, the drinks are cold, the overheard conversations are many. Now, in winter, coming in from the outer dark: The colors are bright, the plates are hot, and melted cheese sticks to the ribs. Soon, perhaps, hot buttered rum will be on the menu board again. The music still plays, the people still talk, the decor changes. The cycles of seasons, and of decades, turn here, a still point in the turning world.

Cross-posted to Inside Belltown