Daily insights for city builders, delivered every morning at 6 AM ET. I’m Brandon Donnelly — a Toronto-based real estate developer and founder of Globizen. I’ve been writing here since 2013.
He recorded videos from open cameras located in cities around the world (the one in the embedded tweet above is from Temple Bar in Dublin)
He scraped all Instagram photos tagged with the same general location
And then he used AI software to help compare the Instagram photos against behind-the-scenes footage of the photos actually being taken
I don’t have a problem with people posing and making numerous attempts to capture the right photo. You should see me before every meal and when I go to the gym. I think the creepy part is that many, or perhaps most, probably don’t realize just how ubiquitous video surveillance is within our cities. But the reality is that there are cameras everywhere.
I guess I’ll never be able to run for Prime Minister.
I recently collected two NFTs from aerial photographer Vitor Esteves. I purchased one of Menton, France and one of Las Negras, Spain (pictured above). Both are from his 1/1 Coastline Villages collection on Sloika. I know that NFTs aren’t nearly as popular as they were last year, but that is exactly why now is a great time to be collecting. Talented artists continue to create, but ETH gas fees have come way down (a few dollars versus sometimes over a hundred at the peak) and there is now far less competition out there. It is no different than trying to buy great real estate when the rest of the market is sleeping.
At some point, I’m going to need to pull the trigger on a good NFT display. I’ve been contemplating a Tokenframe, but I also think that most TVs are going to appropriate this function pretty soon. Some already have.
I recently mentioned that it would be nice to be able to buy a five-storey building in Soho (New York) for $70,000. Yes, that was in 1968 dollars. But even in today’s dollars, we’re talking less than $600,000. I would gladly buy a cast-iron five-storey building in Soho for that price today if it were somehow possible.
In response to this post, a reader sent me this (thank you), which is another great example of an artist buying an old buying in New York for what is clearly an absurdly low price. The artist is photographerJay Maisel, and the building is The Germania Bank Building at 190 Bowery.
Jay bought the six-storey building in 1966 for $102,000. He then used it as his residence, a studio, and as a place to collect a hell of a lot of things. Though at one point he also rented out some of the other floors to artists like Roy Lichtenstein.
It is alleged that most people thought the building was abandoned. But this was obviously not the case. Jay sold the building to RFR Holdings in 2014 for $55 million. And in 2019, streetwear brand Supreme opened up in the bottom.
Today, I understand that Web3 things are also happening in the building. And who knows, it might be the case that we’ll be reading about some of them, in a similar kind of way, fifty years from now.
At the beginning of this year, Globizen announced a new collection of city t-shirts. They have been very popular and we only have a few left from our original batch (which included some of the greatest places in the world: Toronto, Paris, and Park City). But we recently added a new city: Kyiv. This is obviously a really important one, and 100% of the proceeds from the sale of this shirt are going be used to support Ukraine. The plan is to allocate 50% to the Toronto Ukrainian Foundation, which has been helping displaced Ukrainians settle in Canada, and the balance to Ukraine directly (via cryptocurrencies).
If you’ve ever been to Paris, you’ve probably noticed the small pixelated art pieces that are scattered all around the city on buildings and various other hard surfaces.
Or maybe you haven’t seen or noticed them in Paris, but you’ve seen similarly pixelated mosaics in one of the other 79 cities around the world where they can be found.
Or maybe you have no idea what I’m talking about right now. Huh? Here’s an example from Bolivia (click here if you can’t see the embedded post below):
These pixelated urban art pieces are the work of French artist Invader. Modeled after 8-bit video games from the 1970s and 1980s, Invader has been installing these mosaics since 1998 as part of his broader “Space Invaders” project. The first one was installed in Paris.
No two pieces are alike and they’re all made out of ceramic tiles so that they last. Invader also meticulously researches and then records each install location. He is basically trying to take over the world with his “invasions”. As of today, there are 4056 invaders in 80 cities.
The goal of the project is to liberate art from what Invader calls “its usual alienators”, that being museums and other institutions. It is about bringing art out and into the public realm so that everyone can enjoy it. And this is precisely what makes his mosaics so wonderful — it is their playful integration into the urban landscape.
But these aren’t exactly sanctioned pieces of art. If he started out by asking, the answer probably would have been no.
Invader thinks of himself as a kind of hacker of public realms. He keeps his identity concealed. He installs these mosaics during the night (from what I have read). And sometimes he gets in a lot of trouble.
Sometimes they also get removed by the building owner, though at this point his mosaics are pretty well known, so I can’t imagine many owners not wanting to be “invaded.”
But let me ask all of you this: If you owned a building in a major city and woke up tomorrow morning to a Space Invader on the front of it, would you celebrate it, apathetically leave it, or would you remove it immediately?
I have been in a few of Frank Lloyd Wright’s houses and in every case it turned out like this:
The Prairie School (of architecture), for which Wright was a pioneer, was all about horizontality. That typically meant flat roofs, deep overhangs and, in the case of Wright’s work, exceptionally low ceiling heights.
I’m about 6’3”. Many of his clear heights were less than 7’ and I believe his doorways were often 6’2”. This clearly doesn’t work for me, but it mattered for what Wright was trying to do. And I don’t think he was the type to worry about small matters like the comfort of tall people.
The above photos were taken at Taliesin West in Scottsdale, Arizona. Wright bought the land (495 acres) in 1937, and turned it into both his winter home and a teaching studio.
Apparently Wright paid $3.50 per acre at the time, which feels like a pretty good deal to me. It shows you the power of just buying and holding things over long periods of time.
Today, Taliesin West is the home base of Wright’s foundation and also a UNESCO World Heritage Site. I’m glad I was able to finally visit it after reading about it for so many years in architecture school.
Toronto’s Bata Shoe Museum has an exhibition on right now that is all about sneakers. It’s called Future Now: Virtual Sneakers to Cutting-Edge Kicks. I haven’t been to it yet, but it’s on the list. Because this is interesting to me for a few reasons.
One, shoes are important and, as a general rule, I always wear them when I leave the house. Though there may have been some exceptions to this general rule.
And three, sneakers are such a great example of a clothing device that went from utility (we need to protect our feet) to fashion (we all have a desire to express our unique identities) to art collectible (yes, lots of people buy shoes that they never actually wear).
So if you’re looking at stuff like NFTs and digital fashion and scratching your head as to why they have any value, sneakers are probably a good place to look to help you understand why many of us seem to have a need to collect things that help us define our sense of self.
It was explained to me this week that Paris has two principal towers: The Eiffel Tower and the awful tower. The awful tower is, of course, the Tour Montparnasse. Completed in 1973, the Tour Montparnasse is tall, brown, monolithic, and seemingly out of place with the rest of Paris’ urban context. At the time of its completion it was the tallest building in Paris and it remains the tallest building outside of La Defense (business district).
But the Eiffel Tower is also tall. In fact, it’s taller. So how is it that the Eiffel Tower became such a symbol for Paris and the Tour Montparnasse became the “awful tower?” Both were intended to represent modernity (at their respective times) and both were controversial at the time of their construction.
Today people respond to these two towers very differently. Is it because the Eiffel Tower is set in a beautiful park and more separated from its urban context? Or is it because the Eiffel Tower has had almost another 100 years to settle in. It’s not exactly clear. But we do know that as humans we have a bias toward the status quo. And so I like to think of change in the following way:
– There’s change that people immediately like
– There’s change that people hate and will always hate
– And there’s change that people initially hate but will eventually like
The Eiffel Tower, you could argue, falls into category number three. It was big, modern, and alarmingly different when it was built at the end of the 19th century. But now people seem to like it. I know this based on the number of street vendors selling little replicas. For the record, I have yet to see little replicas of the Tour Montparnasse sitting on blankets on the street. I’m a buyer if I do come across one though.
But is it really right to place Montparnasse into category number two? Could it be that it just needs more time to settle in and then it will ultimately move into number three? Maybe. In 2017, an international design competition was held to find an architect for the redesign of the tower. Studio Gang submitted an entry. But Nouvelle AOM was ultimately selected.
I wasn’t part of the selections committee, but I think a good way to evaluate the success of this project will be whether or not it moves the tower into category three. That is, people start to like it. Then maybe Paris will become known as a city of two towers, as opposed to a city with one nice one and one awful one.
This isn’t new. And it’s maybe a bit random. But we’re probably overdue for a break from housing debate. So here is an interesting art project by Hans Hemmert (who is part of the German collective Inges Idee).
Called Personal Absurdities (1997), the project consisted of parties in Berlin in which everyone was equalized to the same height — 2 meters to be exact. The was done through blue stryofoam platform shoes ranging from 5 to 43cm in height.
Of course, if you already happened to be 2m tall, then no platforms were needed. If you were over 2m tall, I’m not sure how that was handled, but presumably the bouncer stopped you at the front door.
All of this seems interesting to me because most of us probably don’t fully appreciate the extent in which height impacts social dynamics. There are countless studies suggesting that we tend to have a more positive reaction to people who are tall — and this is in everything from business to who we vote for.
In fact, this connection between height and leadership is so strong that studies have found that, when faced with a strong likeable leader, we often overstate their height in our minds. We think they’re taller than they actually are because of how strongly we associate height with the ability to lead.
So what happens when you strip away this dynamic and you equalize everyone’s height — even if just for one night of revelry? I would be curious to find out. So if any of you are planning a “same height party”, please feel free to invite me. Thanks.
So each year Europe runs a program called the European Capitals of Culture. The objective is to celebrate the richness of European culture and presumably drive throngs of tourists to its various locales. They do this by choosing a set of cities, designating them “capitals of culture”, and then running events and programming all throughout the calendar year in those places.
When the program was created in 1985, it was originally called the European City of Culture, as there was only one city being chosen at a time. In the first year that city was Athens. But the program has since evolved and now multiple cities are chosen each year. For 2022, the European Capitals of Culture are Esch-sur-Alzette (Luxembourg), Kaunas (Lithuania), and Novi Sad (Serbia).
I was reading about Kaunas in FT this morning and I was fascinated to learn that this city of approximately 300,000 people has some 6,000 modernist buildings. Some are apparently in disrepair, but many remain in good form and, as part of the festival, visitors can book stays in some of the restored ones.
There is, of course, an interesting story behind these buildings.
This collection of modernist buildings is the result of a relatively narrow window of time and a specific set of circumstances. Lithuania gained independence from the former Russian Empire in 1918, following WWI and while Russia was busy fighting with itself. But at the time, its capital city Vilnius, which remains the capital today, was mostly occupied by Poland.
So Kaunas became its temporary capital city from 1920 to 1939, the latter date being when Vilnius was returned to Lithuania. This temporary designation created a tremendous need for new buildings, both public and private, and it just so happened to line up with the flourishing of European modernist architecture.
Kaunas didn’t get any modernist “icons” from architects such as Le Corbusier, but there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. Kaunas instead created its own varietal of modernism, one that incorporated elements of Art Deco and one that you could argue is now deeply symbolic of a very important moment in its history: A peaceful period of interwar freedom and optimism.
