Showing posts with label green space. Show all posts
Showing posts with label green space. Show all posts

Friday, June 5, 2009

Forest and the Fast Lane

Photo of a metro station in MoscowWhen it comes to transition, it seems there is a lot to learn in Moscow. I'm currently writing from there, after a day of walking around and taking a few pictures. The things that really stand out are the lasting marks left on the city from very different governing ideas: ornate metro stations, trees everywhere, aging apartment blocks, modernist masterworks, cars racing down streets that take an incredibly long time to cross. Everything Stalinist is gigantic.

Many public works have aged remarkably well. The metro stations are efficient and well maintained. The ones in the center of town have all kinds of architectural touches usually reserved for mansions, theaters, monuments, city halls, and museums. There is a basic sturdiness that prevents them from seeming too extravagant. Public green space lines the streets and fills the insides of apartment blocks. It’s very refreshing on summer days. Parks are full of young couples, new families, and elders reading or just watching people pass by. The ones I’ve seen so far have been clean but not highly manicured, which gives them a kind of wilderness atmosphere.

Photo of a park near Moscow State UniversityThe trains and parks seem like lasting gifts from the past, although they’re surely changing with today’s frenetic market experimentation. The giant streets are much less successful from a pedestrian’s point of view -- like highways running through city neighborhoods. If they were narrowed and filled in with plantings, spacious sidewalks, and small businesses, the improvement for walkers would be significant. I can’t quite see this happening, as the young and wealthy seem to really love these roadways. They're good for drag races at night and 360 skids in the middle of the day. It all makes Moscow an interesting mix of values and ideas, like any city, but multiplied by something extreme.

(Photos by Peter Sigrist)

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

Architectural Revision

The term "revision" means, literally, to "see again." And in a recent article for the Toronto Star, Christopher Hume inadvertently showed how revision is sorely missing from the urban design dialog today.

Early in the article, which discusses the gentrification of Toronto's Liberty Village neighborhood: "Speaking of parks, there is virtually no green space anywhere here; perhaps the city should finally grapple with the issue of Lamport Stadium, which is so rarely used it could easily be demolished to make way for a park." And then, shortly thereafter: "recycling...old structures ensures a level of integrity and sustainability vital in an age of global warming."

So what gives, Mr. Hume? Why no love for Lamport Stadium.? Surely, if Vienna can figure out how to turn gasometers into a dazzling residential complex, Toronto can pull off the conversion of a stadium into a park without wasting all of that energy by tearing down the existing structure, no? As the urban affairs critic of the largest newspaper in one of the world's few truly global metropoli, Hume is, by default, a major voice in the current discussion on how cities should evolve. It is telling that he would so quickly dismiss a stadium that would probably be relatively simple to convert to public green space.

Culturally, many of us still think of old buildings as things that should be demolished to make way for that which is new, shiny, and more immediately perceived to be "green." But while converting stolid brick warehouses into luxury condo complexes is all well and good, architectural revision is a field with no horizon. Every underused or unattractive building can be rethought and retrofitted to become something that better serves the needs of a surrounding community. It just takes some spitshine and imagination.

How could Lamport Stadium be revised, as a piece of architecture? While an actual Torontonian would probably have the best answer, let's give it a shot. First off, as can be see in the above image, there is very little physical structure to the stadium. The bulk of the site (the playing field) is at-grade, or at least near it. The elimination of any gates or perimeter walls and the conversion of the obscenely large surface parking lot on the southeastern end of the site would create a sizable, T-shaped open green area that could be made quite lovely by a good landscape architect. The wings of green space that currently flank the stadium could be converted to community playing fields with shaded seating areas under the bleacher structures.

The bleachers themsevles provide the best opportunity for out-of-the-box thinking. How could large, clunky concrete structures be revised to serve optimally as part of a public park? While there are many possibilities, the first that comes to mind is: terraced community gardens. With the removal of most or all of the seating and the addition of some permanent soil beds, the porous concrete structures would be the perfect support system for a vertical farm, to be tended by Liberty Village neighbors.

Check out the picture of Lamport Stadium to the right. Cover the steeply-sloped back sides of the bleachers with solar panels or photovoltaics, retrofit what are assumedly locker rooms in the podium under the arched structure, and you've got a zero-energy community center for cold or rainy days. Heck, once you get going, this is more fun than it is challenging.

Revising and rethinking our buildings is a critical step that needs to be taken for us to move closer toward a truly sustainable form of urbanism. What are some strange buildings that could be revised to better serve your city's needs?

(Photos from Google Maps and Flickr user antifuse. The original full-color versions can be viewed by clicking the photos.)


Links:
Liberty Village highlights poor planning (Toronto Star)

Creative Recyling: Gasometer City (Treehugger)

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Mixed-Use Infrastructure

Cities are extremely complex organisms made up of hundreds of independent and interdependent systems. The most basic and oft-overlooked of these systems are some of the most vital. Sewers, which remove waste and excess water, keep our streets clean and dry. They do this out of sight. Canals, rivers, bridges, and roadways allow for the transportation of goods and people within densely populated urban centers. We take them for granted. We have many large facilities for cleaning our water, recycling our trash, and producing our energy, and we hate it when we have to look at them. We so often forget to appreciate the importance of having a strong network of well-maintained public and green spaces. We get so involved in our own social systems that we forget that the larger framework of the city is there, making it all possible. We forget that cities themselves are living things, and that, ours are just tiny parts of a huge, interconnected process -- of creation, of destruction, of life.

What if more of the overlooked nerves and veins could be brought out into the open, or highlighted in some way? What if we had to interact with filtration systems and electric grids in a more direct way? What if we had to live on and in our bridges and tunnels instead of just passing over and through them. What might our cities look like if none of the processes that supported its existence went overlooked? How could we create an urban environment that helped citizens to better understand how their city works, and how they work within that system?

Bridges like the Ponte Vecchio in Florence, Italy, and the Chateau de Chenonceaux in France are evidence of the fact that bridges can be made into livable, functioning parts of the city. But what of the tunnels? In a twist of radical genius, a firm in Amsterdam recently proposed that the Dutch capital drain its canals and build an entire subcity of public, commercial, and parking (which, hopefully, could later be converted to other uses) under the canal system before re-filling the canals with water. No traffic topside would need to be disturbed, and a huge amount of space would be created, seemingly from scratch. There could be subterranean cafes dappled in light dancing through a glass ceiling open to the canal water overhead, movie theaters buried beneath bustling public plazas, perhaps even underground extensions of the city's many wonderful museums. No need for Renzo or Zaha; just dig down.

If these tunnels were to be dug, and another physical layer added to the fabric of Amsterdam, it would change the way that the canals were experienced by the public. Topside, they would remain serene, almost pastoral. But there would be the new knowledge that, once again, these canals were serving as a major thoroughfare, moving thousands of people through the city. Perhaps a public elevator system could be designed to access the tunnels using canal water in a hydraulic system, even more tightly tying the tunnels, the people, and the waterways together.

Speaking of water, Pruned recently took a detailed look at the work of Kevin Robert Perry, whose project on NE Siskiyou Street in Portland, Oregon, uses a system of landscaped "cells" reclaimed from parking space alongside the road. Water flows downhill into the landscaped areas, which use a series of checkdams to distribute water to the cells and prevent overflow, retaining and cleaning stormwater runoff on-site. While Perry's award-winning system only serves a small corner of the city, imagine the possibilities presented by a city-wide system. Much as Frederick Law Olmsted connected his parks with broad greenways, all of a city's streets could be lined with water retention gardens, with a hierarchical system designed to send all overflow, eventually, to parks specifically re-configured to collect and clean runoff. Think of Urbanlab's winning City of the Future entry, taken even further.

And what of our parks? While we take them for granted as part of the city's infrastructure, we certainly don't forget that parks exist like we sometimes forget about water treatment facilities. But couldn't parks be more than just gathering places? Couldn't -- and shouldn't -- they also be used as teaching tools? These public spaces provide a unique opportunity for showing urbanites how they impact their surroundings, and how their city works. In addition to cleaning wastewater and runoff, what other roles could re-imagined parks serve?

A contest was announced on February 15th by the Design Trust for Public Space and the Grand Army Plaza Coalition to generate ideas as to how Brooklyn's severely underused Grand Army Plaza, at the northern entrance to Prospect Park (which many, this blogger included, consider to be Olmsted's greatest park) could be redesigned as a more lively, energetic public space. The plaza, which sits atop a subway station, provides an excellent platform for any designer interested in creating a space that more clearly and fluidly emphasizes and integrates the transit system with the public space at street level. How do the public (park) and semi-public (subway station) interact, and how can design make this not only more enjoyable, but more informative?

Infrastructure could be an intriguing new frontier for the mixed-use movement. While inhabitable bridges seem long-overdue, there must be a thousand different ways of re-thinking infrastructure. Any ideas?

(Photo from Flickr user Rita Crane. The original full-color version can be viewed by clicking the photo.)


Links:
Gallery of Bridges in ArchitectureWeek (Civic Nature)

Amsterdam Subcity (BLDGBLOG)

Hyperlocalizing Hydrology in the Post-Industrial Urban Landscape (Pruned)

Growing Water (Urbanlab)

Reinventing Grand Army Plaza (Design Trust for Public Space)

Friday, February 15, 2008

WEEKEND READING: February 9-15, 2008

Good stuff, good stuff, good stuff. Enjoy some reading this weekend, folks. There's something here for everyone...

ITEM ONE: Deputydog explores Portland's Dignity Village, the "most organized shanty town on earth."

ITEM TWO: Creative class guru Richard Florida, MIT Department of Architecture head Yung Ho Chang, and Minneapolis Mayor R.T. Rybek are just a few of the experts to which Architect Magazine posed the question: "How Would You Spend $1.6 Trillion on Infrastructure in the US?"

ITEM THREE: A pleasingly astute assesment of the Gentrifyer's Guilt from the blog Believe in the Greatest City that Reads in America (which is Baltimore, apparently).

ITEM FOUR: Landscape Urbanism with a great (and well-illustrated) profile of Jean Nouvel as part of the Veg.itect series. (Also check out this review of the Worlds Away: New Suburban Landscapes exhibit, which opened this week in Minneapolis). (Photo credit)

ITEM FIVE: WorldChanging on how peak population -- and the inevitable decline to follow -- should frame the current discussion of susatinability.

ITEM SIX: Guest blogger Dave Atkins reviews Suburban Transformations over at All About Cities. Where featured a review of this book last month, and if you missed that, make sure to check out Mr. Atkins' post.

ITEM SEVEN: In case you missed it, Science just put out a special issue focusing on cities and the "urban planet" phenom.

See you Sunday for Urbanffffinds!

Friday, February 1, 2008

WEEKEND READING: January 26-February 1, 2008

Bienvenidos a la fin de semana. Let's get to the good stuff:

ITEM ONE: I can't bring myself to link directly to "Reason" Magazine, so here's a post from the Center for Global Development on a very interesting interview on immigration policy with economist Lant Pritchett.

ITEM TWO: Strange Harvest visualizes what wireless communication technology might mean for the urban environment.

ITEM THREE: Pigs Will Fly examines the importance of local green economies.

ITEM FOUR: A beautiful piece from the NY Times on the art of decay in gardening. (Photo credit)

ITEM FIVE: TNAC lambasts Forbes' pathetic, poorly-executed disgrace of an article on the "10 most miserable cities in America"...

ITEM SIX: ...and we'll follow that up with a hilarious and spot-on column from Mark Morford of the San Francisco Chronicle entitled "Study says many studies suck." WORD.

ITEM SEVEN: Another good blog to add to your Reader -- Landscape Urbanism. Check it out!

Go have a party and then wake up at two in the afternoon tomorrow and read some of this stuff. Or something.

Monday, December 3, 2007

The Craig Hartman Interview - Part I

The following interview, in which SOM San Francisco design partner Craig W. Hartman, FAIA, discusses his firm's plan for the redevelopment of San Francisco's Treasure Island, was conducted in two parts. The first two questions asked by Where, as well as Mr. Hartman's first answer, have been copied directly from an email exchange. We then switched to a telephone conversation, which begins here with Mr. Hartman's second answer. The interview will be posted in two parts that do not correspond with the change in conversation methods, but rather split the text into two even halves.

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Where: As big-ticket and high-profile as SOM's proposal for the redevelopment Treasure Island (TI) is, it looks like it belongs on its site in the way that all great projects do; from what the renderings show, it's the kind of development that, when finished, could become a part of the city in a way that that makes one wonder what the place was like before the project was built. But what's most fascinating about TI is the fact that, even in a city with such incredibly rich architectural and cultural traditions, the site seems to have lacked traditional contextual cues. So what was the starting point for designing of this development?

Craig Hartman: The starting point wasn't a question of aesthetics – or even architecture. The question was what have we learned, collectively, about intelligent forms of human settlement that should be applied to this place? What are the possibilities when a community is developed as a singular idea as opposed to incremental growth? Can we conceive a holistic urban ecology that goes beyond sustainability – sustaining existing conditions - to be regenerative? Can we plant the seeds of an ecology that brings together stewardship of the natural environment, diversity (not only human but species diversity) along with social and cultural vitality and what kind of urban and architectural form would support these aims? In short, given the chance to start from tabla rasa, what might a 21st Century neighborhood representing the values of San Francisco look like?

The setting is an inversion of [what] might be typically thought of as urban context. The site itself is synthetic - a recycled manmade artifact in which the earth's topography is an artificial flat plane and the structures, for the most part, conceived as temporary shelter. The island was built contemporary with the Bay Bridge as a manmade extension of Yerba Buena Island. Some of Treasure Island's fill came from the tunnel cut through Yerba Buena. The island's first wave of architecture was the temporary fantasy created for the 1939 International Exposition and the second, also intended to have a short shelf life, consisted of the structures created to accommodate the Navy's occupation in World War II.

So the real "contextual" influence was the vast horizontal plane of the Bay, the City of San Francisco skyline to the south and the drama of the weather pattern sweeping through the throat of the Golden Gate and across the island on a daily basis. Wind, fog and sun are the determinants, along with the physical reality of the subsurface geology and the desire to create a place that is compact and walkable - highly accessible to mass transit, culture and urban amenities on one hand and a variety of open space on the other. To achieve this required an interweaving of low-rise and tall buildings, a variety of open space typology and a fine grain of streets and pedestrian pathways.


W: I know that "context" has become something of a dirty word...or at least a word that has sort of lost most of its meaning in architecture since no one can really seem to agree on what it means. This is lamentable, I think, since the concept itself has been forsaken for a semantic argument, and sometimes it feels like the whole idea of a buildings responding to the sites on which they're built gets waylaid in the process. At any rate, the strength of the TI plan is that it draws from its surroundings without trying to mimic them. One of the most interesting things about the plan is the way that the wind patterns were used to determine the organization of the buildings and the open space, and how the grid would be canted. (The architectural romantic in me loves the concept of a "city shaped by the wind"). I'm interested to know how the other intangible factors that you brought up -- sun, fog, geology, even the cultural values of San Francisco -- helped to define the physical environment in the project.

CH: I agree that context doesn't have a lot of currency in architectural discourse at the moment, and it's not really surprising because contextualism in the [1990s] got branded as a style, an architectural style, and it became a crutch, as these styles often do. Specifically in the case of contextualism, in my observation at least, it became a code word for a lukewarm architecture that tepidly reflected history rather than authentically addressing its place, and I think the outcome of that was that originality and innovation really took a backseat to timidity. So I agree with that point but I also would suggest that the work we're doing at Treasure Island is based upon context, but context that has a larger meaning and is more broadly considered. Context might be considered both as physical and cultural, and the physical landscape includes the natural as well as the built environment.

The other point that I would make before getting into the specifics of context for TI is that by now, at the beginning of the 21st Century, we've learned some lessons from the past about forms of building, the effects of consumption and the nature of human habitation. Buildings consume the majority of energy production and emit the majority of the carbon dioxide in the world - and the second [largest source of these things] is our cars and transportation. Add those two things together with sprawling, consumptive patterns of development and we get the environmental crisis that we have today. So clearly, if we address the questions of the way we settle and the way we move we can begin to address our major climate problems. All those things were part of the consideration of context for this island


W: You talked earlier about what you referred to as a "regenerative urbanism." How does TI take architecture that step from sustainability to actually being a regenerative urban place?

CH: Well that would be, perhaps, a hopeful term rather than an absolute metric. I think most environmentalists would say that it's very difficult to make an urban environment truly regenerative because "regenerative" would suggest that you're not sustaining merely current conditions but, through the work that is being produced, you've actually initiated a mending or healing of the environment. Treasure Island has been inhabited by the Navy since the early 1940’s. Their use of the island has been very pragmatic, based upon the most expedient and efficient operational pattern of the time. Militaries throughout history have not exactly been noted for their gentle use of the land. Like perhaps most of us, the Navy was not very mindful of consequences of certain material use, the way that rainwater runs off the island into the Bay and not really mindful of the energy that is consumed, because all of those resources were thought to be plentiful and... [Searches for the right word]

W: Self-replenishing.

CH: Exactly. And we now know that all of these things have a finite quality, or that they are part of a system that is recycled continuously. So what we tried to do here is to take this manmade island and bring it to a level that it had never achieved before. This includes naturally cleaning water that strikes the surface when it rains through bioswales in the earth, purifying it by a natural means. It also includes minimizing water that is consumed on the island, maximizing recycling of water that is used and being certain that all water that does make it back into the Bay is clean. [We are also] generating produce on the island with organic farms and in the process, making a place that supports a diversity of species that includes not only a healthy environment for humans but also supports the widest possible variety of others; birds, animals, reptiles and so forth. It's meant to be an incremental example of the way that we can coinhabit urban spaces with nature and with a wide and varied organic diversity – people, plants, animals. And this urbanistically, the goal is a vital human social and cultural diversity.


W: Im interested by the way that you talk about integrating the two halves of the [built environment] and the natural environment because there's a lot of public space on the island in your plan, and the density of the built areas is really high which allows -- I think -- more than half of the island to be left open, right?

CH: That's correct.

W: And I thought when I was reading about it initially that it was really interesting that nowadays [in] most developments the centerpiece will be a mall or a commercial district, and it's always retail, retail, retail, kind of like a drum beat. What I thought was really interesting about TI is that most of the public space is not really oriented toward commerce but more toward...natural settings. Was that something that was [done consciously]?

CH: That was absolutely a guiding principal when we got into this. We had the opportunity of coming into this project relatively late in the process in terms of the design. There had been a previous design for the island that was based upon a lower density [with] housing spread out across the island and a kind of greensward that wound through the middle. It wasn't meant to be suburban but I think that was the outcome. My colleagues and I at SOM were asked to join the team when an additional development entity was added to the team and after the project had gone through a lengthy public review process in which many issues had been raised. We joined an existing team that included SMWM, architects and planners and CMG, landscape architects along with an array of high level engineers including civil and Arup who focused on sustainable engineering and transportation strategies. Also added at that time were BCV architects who focus on retail and Hornberger Worstell who focus on hotels.

There are many stakeholders and interested parties whose opinions a perspectives must be considered in any San Francisco project, and especially one of this scale, prominence and importance. There are official agencies specifically set up to govern and critique the development, beginning with the Treasure Island Development Authority and the TI Citizen’s Advisory Board along with City Agencies such as the Planning Department and the Department of the Environment and various California State jurisdictional bodies. There are also advocacy groups and concerned citizens. A consistent concern shared by all was that the future of this island needed to be based upon sustainable urban principles. So pretty late in the process, only about a year ago, when we got involved with this we benefitted, really, from what had been a lot of critique -- very constructive critique, I think -- by the community, and that really helped. It gave us the ability to have some leverage in the process. The development team was very much aligned with these principles and wanted to make it happen.

Perhaps the most important concept we brought to this is the making of a very compact urban space focused on mass transit and aquatic mass transit -- the ferry. We repositioned...the ferry key on the west side [of the island], as close as possible to San Francisco’s Ferry Terminal as opposed to the back side, where it had been proposed. Then [we worked] to really densify or compact the housing through the selective use of tall buildings placed to focus density for social purposes or for ease of access to transit. This concept allowed us to have the great park.

The park is different from the parks of the 19th and 20th century, to a certain extent, in the sense that it has multiple uses and characteristics, from natural and wild to cultivated and urban and is not only recreational but also has pedagogical and productive elements. There is a structured recreational area, but structured recreation requires a lot of irrigation, so that is also compact and designed in a way that it can be multi-use. We also worked on making parts of the island productive – a 20 acre organic farm that visitors can actually walk through and experience as a “farm to table” pedagogic tool. Then vast amounts of [the green spaces] are simply wild lands that are shaped to allow natural systems to operate, like tidal pools that support a diversity of species types. So that was a guiding goal here: to minimize, as much as we possibly could, our ecological footprint, and maximize the environmental potential.


W: I thought it was really interesting that, in addition to there being a lot of it, it doesn't seem like the [green space is] just tacked on. It's worked all throughout the project and sort of integrated throughout the entire island, and I thought one of the most interesting ways that manifested itself is in the rotated grid and how the landscape is used as a buffer for the wind. That struck me as really interesting and I was wondering if you might talk more about that.

CH: That's a very good observation. This island is a beautiful setting -- an unbelievable setting -- so the views from the island are extraordinary. But it also suffers the brunt of all the major weather coming in from the Pacific, right through the Golden Gate passage. There are very powerful photos of the fog coming through that passage and sweeping across the Bay but you have to spend a lot of time on the island to really understand the effects of constant wind. It's a very uncomfortable feeling so at the very beginning the idea was to make this place habitable in a comfortable way and to look to nature and traditional agrarian techniques for ways creating calm and sheltering occupied spaces.

The first thought was to simply create the quality of sand dunes on the westerly side that would reflect the wind upward. We found that that does have an effect, but it's a fairly micro impact. And we are doing that - creating a shaped topography on the west side that creates localized calm areas. I think its very interesting, especially the way Kevin Congerland of CMG developed the idea as a clearly manmade geometry that operates as dunes and swales do in wild landscapes.
But in the urban areas, the neighborhoods, the technique we found most effective was to place the buildings themselves so that they sheltered the public spaces on the leeward side. Through work with RWDI, the wind consultants, we found that there is roughly a 15:1 relationship between the height of an object and the distance from that object that one could expect relative calm on the leeward side.

The first and most obvious fact is that the wind is coming from the west and the island is tilted upward to the north by approximately 32 degrees off of due north. So that creates this angle that you see as the main organizing structure in the island's grid plan. We have turned all of the major streets in that direction and have placed the buildings so that they are creating buffers along that edge. Borrowing from agrarian traditions in which wind rows – trees - are used to create sheltered areas to protect croplands which you see in our own country and also in Europe. We've simply taken this idea and extended it through the urban space to the open space as a wind buffer. So, on one hand, its nature and on the other, architecture, that does the work the work of creating calmed and sheltered public space. To further this concept, we staggered the streets in the other direction so that we're not creating wind channels.

This shifted, or bent grid, orients the principal public spaces and streets to the south, bringing the maximum amount of sunlight directly onto these spaces for the maximum hours of the day. That's a very important thing, to have sun in these spaces, because the wind and fog is so prevalent, resulting in cool temperatures most of the time. The fortuitous thing is that the 32 degree angle, directly to the south, also opens view corridors directly onto the city of San Francisco. It creates a really powerful connection between the island’s public spaces and San Francisco’s skyline.


W: So the view down those streets looks straight at the city, then. The view down the street would kind of frame San Francisco.

CH: That's correct. The angle frames the city, and brings high south sun on the island streets. Perhaps the other point worth mentioning is your comment about how the green space is woven through the urban, the wild and the organic, agrarian parts of the island. That was a very conscious idea, to create a purposeful set of varied and interwoven public spaces including an art park, urban spaces, organic farm and wild lands, all linked to the windrows. One of the most important for the social life of the island is a series of small urban parks we have cut into the neighborhoods. These are small -- approximately a half-block -- in size. With their scale and the placement, the intention is to create a social nucleus or focus for smaller-grained neighborhoods throughout the larger community. So the neighborhoods and the island’s social life become an integral part of the island’s environmental and ecological agenda.


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Tomorrow Where will feature Part II of this interview, in which we delve into the social and community aspects of the TI design, as well as the architecture. Don't miss it!

Links:
Bending the Grid (SOM) (photo credits)

Tuesday, September 4, 2007

The 21st Century Park

“A 21st-century park is something very different from what Frederick Law Olmsted imagined when he won the competition for Central Park in the 19th century. We have the Internet, we have computer games, we have people flying to Hawaii for vacation, so a park in the 21st century has to be a wholly new kind of thing...I hope that we cast a wide enough net to get truly the first park of the 21st-century. Shelby Farms is certainly big enough to be something very special.”

This little nugget of hubristic bombast comes from Alex Garvin, a former LMDC official (*ding*, red flag), in reference to his current project: a revamp of Shelby Farms Park, currently a twinkling RFQ in Memphis' eye. As it stands, the 4,500 acre park is currently used for a variety of recreational activities, as one might expect for such a huge space. The Shelby Farms Park Alliance describes the park as encompassing "lakes, paved and unpaved trails, forests, meadows, an Agricenter, a farmer’s market, a horse arena, a visitor center, rental horses, skate boarding, disc golf, dog off-leash area, senior gardens, a natural area with a river running through it, a restaurant, government offices and even a prison."

Heh...someone really knows how to end a list and start a party.

At any rate, Garvin was originally brought in to develop a master plan for the park that one can only assume was originally intended to have some sort of developed component. But Garvin's suggestion was to shape the rough natural spaces into the majestic, high-tech Versailles of the Future described at the start of this post. So now the RFQ is calling on L-archies big and small to come up with a way to turn a subdivision-ringed area that claims to be the largest urban park in America into a fully-functioning greenspace-masterpiece-extravaganza. Sounds like a thunderous disappointment waiting to happen, no?

There is naked ambition evident in Garvin's blustery prophesy of trailblazing landscape architecture; the Shelby Farms Park being (vaguely) envisioned is grand, expansive, and very, very important. Yet the conflict of a park five times the size of Manhattan's Central is inherent in Garvin's own description of the challenge. The internet, computer games, and increasingly affordable transoceanic flights are all smaller pieces of the larger problem of technology's tendency to pull or even drive us apart. The logical solution to this problem, in terms of parks and other public spaces, would be to create engaging and inviting parks that, by design, bring people together. To achieve this, theoretically, a designer would need to work on a very human scale, focusing on details that would inspire interaction. To suggest that this can be done over a stretch of 4,500 acres implies a fairly rosy tint to one's glasses.

In fact, "humanly scaled" is most commonly used to describe the very un-grand side of urban design. The human scale is best suited to smaller spaces: pocket parks, plazas, paseos, grottos, playgrounds, and neighborhood gardens. These small spaces very frequently serve as local gathering places, reinforcing the importance of community in the larger context of the sprawling, technologically advanced megacities of the 21st century. They provide a sense of scale (there's that word again), reminding city dwellers that they are a part of something smaller than the cities in which they live. This is vital to city life, and these places are well-used because they are easy to fill up. That sounds a bit circuitous, but the fact is that the places most enjoyed in cities are the places where there are a lot of people around. A healthy amount of people-traffic makes us feel safe, and smaller public spaces are easier to keep busy, plain and simple.

That's not to say that large parks can't work. Central Park in Manhattan, Lincoln Park in Chicago, Hyde Park in London -- all of these are wildly successful urban parks not merely because of their beauty, but because of the high density of the neighborhoods that abut them. These parkside neighborhoods generally hold at least 50,000 people per square mile, roughly the density Jane Jacobs suggested as ideal. But this is yet another example of proper scaling: huge numbers of people require more space to spread out. If, following conventional wisdom, the Upper West Side is the traditional town writ large, then Central Park is the resulting exaggeration of courthouse square.

In addition to the incompatibility of Shelby Farms Park with its surroundings (in terms of creating a great urban park) there are issues of accessibility. The 754 square mile Shelby County, in which the majority of the Memphis area's residents reside, has a population density of just over 1,100 people per square mile. In short, the Memphis area is fairly spread out. With Shelby Farms Park located at the eastern edge of the metro -- 10 miles from downtown Memphis at the closest point -- the only access to the park for almost everyone in the region will be by private automobile. Even ignoring the implicit socioeconomic segregation, this location fails, through inaccessibility, to address any of the problems brought on by increased technology. It is merely a sprawling green space surrounded by sprawl. No matter what the park looks like, it will be accessible only to select people, and is unlikely to encourage an increased sense of community.

A few hundred miles to the north, another Mississippi River metropolis is struggling with an exacerbated version of the problems facing the Shelby Farms Park redesign. Mayor Slay and other residents of Saint Louis made news recently by suggesting that some of the national park surrounding the Gateway Arch -- the city's greatest landmark and monument to Manifest Desitny -- be redeveloped by reinstating the street grid that once ran right up to the riverfront and building a New Urbanist-style extension of downtown, complete with walkable condo-and-coffee-shop neighborhoodlettes. The merits of this project aside, it is interesting to note what the mayor and other St. Louisians describe as the somewhat infamously placid park's greatest problems: it's hard to get to, and there is not much to do.

In a park as large as Shelby Farms, a solid and cohesive landscape is next to impossible; any attempt would create extreme monotony. There will inevitably be a mix of landscapes surrounding specialized areas of activity. No matter how interesting or innovative they are these scattered points of interest will, at best, see the same fate as the Gateway Arch: they will become islands in an ocean of unused open space. But when all is said and done, what is most irritating about Shelby Farms Park is not that it will be nothing particularly special; there is no rule against gargantuan suburban parks. What is truly frustrating is that ths park claims that it can address the critical issues of landscape and public space in the 21st century, when at the most fundamental level, it cannot. Just call a spade a spade.

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As we struggle to first define and then combat sprawl in the coming years, it will be interesting to see what kind of meaning that wretchedly overused and woefully misunderstood term -- "open space" -- takes on. It seems important to make some distinction between well-designed parks and public places (streets, riverfronts, plazas, etc.) and rural areas, and the wasted and/or misused areas that are so frivolously and irresponsibly labeled "precious open space" by reactionary neo-NIMBYs. Henceforth, "open space" will be used accordingly in posts at Where, while the well-designed places will be referred to either as "green space" or "public space," depending on their intended use.

(Photo from Flickr user motus media.)


Links:

Shelby Farms to Be a "21st-Century Park" (Architectural Record)

America's Great 21st Century Park (CEOs for Cities)

Shelby Farms Park Alliance

Should the Landscape at the Arch Change? (STLtoday.com)