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".

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

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

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

I'm a bit obsessive about stormwater and what it washes off of our city streets into the Bay. It's a recognized problem. SPU (Seattle Public Utilities) wrote a new stormwater manual to comply with EPA and Ecology rulings. New projects, including new road projects, above a certain square footage size limit are required to infiltrate or manage stormwater to the "maximum extent practicable" - or "feasible", I think is the term in Seattle. So far nothing seems to be feasible for our urban city streets, and it's very discouraging. SDOT is a perennially underfunded agency - I really don't know how they can get anything done - and there has been no enthusiasm shown on their part for trying to figure out the problem of urban (as in downtown) stormwater. Nothing has been designed for our situation of urban streets, there aren't any off the shelf solutions, and I can't really imagine what such solutions might look like, myself. I don't have to imagine the consequences, though. Stormwater from roadways carries enough pollution from auto fluid leaks into the Sound to equal the Exxon Valdez spill, every two years.



We've had to waste a lot of recent opportunities to do something about the polluted water coming off of our streets. All of the repaving that was being done for the Bridging the Gap work was designed before the new stormwater rules were in effect. That work will last for 50 years, without any added stormwater treatment. There is a big new plan for Denny Way that includes lots of "green" but no stormwater treatment. I haven't gotten a satisfactory explanation why. I had thought the work for the new RapidRide bus bulbs on 3rd Avenue would have stormwater filtration designed in. The draft version of the stormwater manual required added filtration anytime there were significant curb changes. It proved to be too hard, or too expensive. Then there is the coordination between SDOT, SPU, and adjacent property owners; no one ever really owns the problem and nothing gets done. I think we can do better, and really, we have to, somehow - but as I said, SDOT is an unloved and starved agency. It's up to us in the end, isn't it?



Cross-posted to Inside Belltown

The humble alley has been getting a lot of attention lately - from Igor, last week; and now this more favorable article from Northwest Hub about the Pioneer Square alley behind the Nord building. Alleys are spatially interesting. Alleys have a lot of potential. Alleys belong to us, to me and you. They are public rights-of-way, although because of problem behaviors many of our Belltown alleys were posted against trespassers. The Belltown Neighborhood Plan even calls for alleys to be used as pedestrian and bike routes. If the alley is well maintained and interesting, it can be a preferable route because there is little vehicular traffic. Because many extant Belltown structures were built without parking, there are some very appealing alleys in Belltown that see some positive, active use (the negatives have been very present, as well, but there has been much improvement).

 

Some cities take alley cleanup and use seriously. Alleys get new fancy names with "mews" or "lane" attached, and become a new type of urban street. You see this in new development too. A big new condo building goes in, and a sign is put up reading "Post Alley North" (where I live) or "News Lane" for the 1521 building. It's a way of adding cache to a big project, and to the units on the named alley. Everyone knows Post Alley through the Market. Belltown has alleys that have a sense of that character, of having many uses, becoming almost a secondary street.

 

This alley is a fascinating place, with wrought iron balconies and the skateboarding skeleton, thanks to Black Dog Forge, which operates here. Dead Baby Bikes was here, as witnessed by the artwork on the roll-down door - which remains, although the bikes are gone (to Counterbalance Bicycles in Uptown). This is a fabulous alley, even more interesting because the one-story storefronts (home of Roq la Rue and Halogen galleries) become two-stories on the alley. Note the old brick pavement still in place, too.

 

Via Tribunali is on the corner of the alley behind the Crocodile. It's a great new addition to the neighborhood and created an amazing transformation of the alley, in conjunction with the Clear Alleys program. (For photos of the transformation, see Evolution of an Alley). I admire their moxie, but wonder how well it's been working for them, as they keep doing things to increase traffic - sidewalk sandwich boards, adding a streetside roll-down door, then putting up this illuminated arrow. Wags has moved to this alley too, and the people at Mama's seem to be thinking about expanding into the former Import Doctor garage, but that's uncertain. It seems odd, but even with the new uses in this public alleyway the "NO TRESPASSING" sign is still in effect. It helps in policing unwanted alley behavior. There have been a lot more people walking through these active alleys just to stroll or to get somewhere, and that helps too.

 

Bathtub Gin opened in the alley behind the Humphrey this summer. They operate in mysterious ways, covering the alley door with plywood during the day and not advertising their hours of operation, in speakeasy style. I hope that's working for them. The Humphrey also has a unique and wonderful courtyard restaurant, La Fontana. All of these uses are possible because the building doesn't have parking - it wasn't needed in 1923 and people do without it now. Wags was on this alley previously, with their nice sign. I don't know who is responsible for the "I Am Pabst" mural. I'd like to see artists turned loose in one of our alleys, doing something similar to the murals on the Vogue (Vain), or like the rooms in the hostel, or even like the alley behind Rendezvous. There are actually, sometimes, funds for that sort of thing; alleys are public spaces and artists need to be paid.

 

 

I live on north Post Alley. I had been there for some time before I realized that, across the alley, was a building I had studied in graduate school, the John Carney building, SRO replacement housing designed by Michael Pyatok. It's a small world. Anyway, this building has no parking, so the alley was used for double-height artist studio lofts, or live-work spaces. I don't know if artists live there or not, but there the units are. We build more residential parking right now than we actually need, because banks don't want to give credit (or didn't, when it was available at all) to developers unless they build parking - they think the market demands it. Others think the demand is not there, and the parking below our new buildings will be converted to some other use. They may even become the new industrial artist work spaces for Belltown, someday. 

Cross-posted to Inside Belltown

My brain doesn't seem to be engaging its moderation filters properly. Maybe it's because I'm absolutely, physically exhausted to the point where I can't sleep and have constant tremors. Anyway. It came up at work today, and I was asked to think about how to save the suburbs. I wasn't moderate; I suggested turning them back into farmland. That in turn brought back all kinds of memories about our old family farm, the land, half a county's worth, that my great-grandfather and his uncles and brothers assembled for purposes of resource extraction - farming, timber, ranching, hunting, mineral rights - you get the picture. Part of that land was a former town. It wasn't much of a town, a family that hoped to expand, named the place something-ville, after themselves, I think. It was on a dirt road that had once been the equivalent of the interstate highway, that ran along a railroad track. By the time I knew the place there were only two or three old houses left that my family was using for hay and equipment storage. I still have an old cheese cover that my grandmother dug up at one of the houses. I'm tired, I'm daydreaming. But remembering that made me think that there are historic cycles of abandonment and renewal, and now may be a time of abandonment and retrenchment.

In a previous post I was blasting off immoderately and being offensive, which is never good. Part of my professional work will be working with suburbs, making them better, making regional connections work better. Some places may be returned to nature, too. The President even has an initiative that has identified 50 cities that may need to shrink to survive. That means clearing parts of the cities and condensing what remains into a smaller, more compact area, to keep services more efficient (and maintain any hope of civic service at all). We are not just changing current development patterns; we are radically remaking or unmaking what has already been done. This is something that may continue and spread. Carol Coletta speaks of the migration of the young creative class between cities. Out of 50 cities, 16 have gained the 25-34 year old population; 34 cities have lost. There are implications to that which I am too tired to work. I'm not 34. I'm old, and feel a lot older than I actually am right now.

I've been enjoying the 2nd Friday Artwalks in Belltown. It's been a pretty good summer overall in Belltown, actually. Or maybe I'm just learning to appreciate it better. This is the current installation in Suyama Space, Grotesque Arabesques by Dan Corson. The arabesques are modeled from the topology of caverns, a very earthy precedent, but the application in cool, ethereally glowing colors makes it feel more like a walk through the fabric of the universe. It was an intriguing and captivating spatial experience that was worth spending some time to take in.



Buskers have started showing up for Artwalk. This is a very encouraging, positive sign for the neighborhood, and very entertaining, too. This flame juggler was here for the September artwalk. He was traveling through and didn't stay in town for long - just long enough for the Busker Festival in the Market, I think. There was a big crowd outside the Hostel, anyway, and the parking lane was closed to traffic, which expanded his stage (good thing, those flames were hot). Maybe that worked for him, I don't know.



This guy is fairly new, I've seen him in the Market over the last few weeks. This is the first time I've seen him in Belltown. I sat at Bedlam and watched for a while before coming to take his photo and give a tip. I don't know if this was a good location, here by the vacant lot where the Speakeasy was (I really miss that building - is it possible to miss something you never actually saw?). It's kind of a dead corner, but there isn't a lot of room for juggling elsewhere, now that the parking lanes are occupied again. I hope it worked well enough that he comes back, or that others will. It's ever so much better than having the drug dealers on the corners.

I sat in on two presentations yesterday. I was very disappointed in both of them, quite unhappy, in fact. Obviously it still bothers me. The first, which I thought was to discuss sustainable stormwater infrastructure, was instead about constructed wetlands and blackwater treatment systems. I was quite rude and walked out early. I lived in Austin in the decades when constructed wetlands were being designed. I was part of that whole live-off-the-land, be a part of nature ideology. But even the groups I was involved with then came to realize that true sustainability means getting more people to live in cities, in dense urban arrangements, rather than sprawling across the countryside putting engineered systems in place and calling it "natural". I sold my undeveloped country property and became an urbanite; I don't know how many of them did the same. Some people tout a new ideology in order to keep more people from moving out to where they live - an "I've got mine but you can't have yours" philosophy. When confronted with this presentation on systems I had moved beyond long ago, it was incredibly discouraging. Do we never learn from past mistakes? Will every generation repeat itself? No, because if they do human civilization won't survive.

That presentation was naive and dangerous greenwashing. Last night I went to another presentation, one I thought would restore some sense of hope and sanity. It was by David Owens, author of The Green Metropolis. His thesis is that Manhattan is the most sustainable city in the country, and our goal should be to live more like Manhattanites. He was preaching to the converted. I agreed with most (not all) of his points (I might want to live more like Londoners than Manhattanites, especially where traffic is concerned, for example). This is what he was preaching; but he lives in a big old farmhouse in a village in Connecticut and has no desire to move back to Manhattan. At times he seemed more concerned with the people moving out to where he lives creating sprawling development; he would rather have those people move to Manhattan instead, I think. It's more of that "I've got mine - you stay away and don't spoil it" philosophy. He preaches a great message but doesn't practice it. Wouldn't that be considered hypocrisy?

I get upset with people I work with for the same reasons. I hold people in our profession to a higher standard, especially since all the firms I've worked for have been in urban practice, designing multi-family mixed-use buildings in cities, not single-family homes. Yet almost every person I've worked with lives in a single-family home - especially at the last large firm. At one time I was the only person there, out of almost 200 people, who lived in a multi-family building. What kind of example are we setting? We tell people how they should live, and build so that they can live well that way, but we don't choose to live that way ourselves? Sheerest hypocrisy. It's "I've got mine you can't have yours" in spades, and it makes me crazy. Hence this rant. 

 

The Green Streets in Belltown, the east-west streets that run down towards the Bay, have special design requirements for landscape, public space, and public art (in other words, private property is required to contribute to the public realm - what a novel concept). While not requiring art specifically, the street fronts are required to be activated in some way. Because the streets below 1st Avenue are steeply sloping, it is difficult to put active storefront use on those sides; that space is most often required for a parking garage, as well. So, in addition to landscaping, the garage facades get decorated in some way. Some buildings put up event posters. Some have a permanently applied art detail of some sort. One of the more intriguing applications is on the Clay Street side of the Avenue One condo building: the CoCA Belltown gallery space.

When I first saw this I thought of it as the "art locker". There was one excellent exhibit in there for a very long time, which I assumed was permanent, until it went away and something else came in. It is a changing exhibition space. The current exhibit is called Visual Poetry, by Haris Purnomo. It's much more sinister looking now; you really should go see it, if you'd like to stretch out your Artwalk tonight. I always walk up Clay Street to get to 1st Ave; this art space makes the hill climb more worthwhile. Some photos of this and other recent exhibits:

 

   

 

 

Some other (not as interesting) Green Street treatments:

   

Cross-posted to Inside Belltown