“Manhattanism is the one urbanistic ideology that has fed, from its conception, on the splendors and miseries of the metropolitan condition – hyper-density – without once losing faith in it as the basis for a desirable modern culture. Manhattan’s architecture is a paradigm for the exploitation of congestion.”
-Rem Koolhaas, Delirious New York, 1978
Image: De Rotterdam by photographer Ossip Van Duivenbode via The Architectural Review
“It is difficult to design a space that will not attract people. What is remarkable is how often this has been accomplished.” -William Whyte
In 1980, the sociologist and urbanist William Whyte published a revolutionary book called The Social Life of Small Urban Spaces.
The ambition was to discover why some urban plazas are successful and why many others fail. And to do that, he went out and studied urban plazas throughout New York using video and simple observation, such as head counting.
His work has been hugely influential for architects, designers, and other urbanists. But if you think about how often we fail at creating urban spaces that actually attract people, I think it’s worthwhile revising what Whyte discovered way back in the 70s and 80s.
Some of the principles – such as providing places to sit – are dead simple and intuitive. But again, a lot of urban spaces suck. So we’re clearly not doing it.
The other thing I feel we often forget is that it’s not just the space itself that matters, it’s also the urban fabric around it. The Seagram Building in New York plays a central role in Whyte’s work as an example of a successful urban plaza.
But we can’t forget that Mies van der Rohe’s simple gesture of setting the tower back from the street is strengthened by the remaining urban fabric and the activity along Park Avenue. The plaza acts as a kind of release.
Alongside the book, Whyte also published a 60 minute video. If you’ve never seen it, I highly recommend you watch it when you get a chance. Click here if you can’t see the video below.
[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MjxXTsHgc8g&w=420&h=315]
To close out this post, I thought it would be fun if everyone shared their favorite public urban space in the comment section. It can be in your city or it could just be a place you’ve visited.
To kick things off, I’m going to go with with a space that’s close to home: Berczy Park. It has lots of places to sit, including movable chairs. There’s a great water feature. And it’s well connected to the rest of the area and surrounding streets. I often sit there during lunch or when I just want to think.
It’s also in the midst of a revitalization and I’m excited to see that come together.
I was recently introduced to the work and writing of Japanese architect Sou Fujimoto. One concept that he writes about that I really like is the idea of nest vs. cave.
The way Fujimoto describes a cave is that it’s a naturally occurring and pre-existing condition. It is exists independent of humans. So if and when a human decides to occupy a cave, he or she must assimilate their lives to that which is already there. They have to deal with the ambiguity of the spaces because it is not clear how everything should be used.
A nest, on the other hand, is something completely created by and for the benefit of a person or animal. It would not exist without someone creating it and so it is prescriptive and functional in a way that a cave is not.
Fujimoto is interested in exploring architecture that is analogous to caves. Which is why he designs houses like this one (House NA) in Tokyo:
In most countries, a house like this would not meet code and would be illegal. But in Tokyo it’s obviously allowed. And his hope is that the owners will discover new and unintended ways to interact with the unusual pairing of levels and platforms.
However, I think about this juxtaposition differently – likely incorrectly in the mind of Fujimoto.
I’m actually more interested in nests. Because in a way, mass produced housing is like a cave. It exists whether or not we decide to occupy it. And it is generally created to appeal to lots of people, rather than to the idiosyncratic tastes of one person. So when someone does occupy it, they invariably end up trying to shape it.
But not to the extent of a nest. A nest is custom. It is what you would build for yourself given the opportunity to do so. And that thought is really appealing to me. Maybe it’s because I don’t like the ambiguity of a cave. That could be a possibility.
I could also be thinking about it differently because I tend to think of Japanese homes as being quite individualistic. Since Japanese people generally don’t care about resale value, they don’t have the same fixation with marketability and future value. That means they’re more likely to just build what they want.
I’d love to have my own nest.
Image: Wall Street Journal