
Aaron Renn has a few observations up on his blog from a recent trip to San Francisco. Number 2 is as follows:
“A curiously low energy city. It’s tough to judge any American city’s street energy after living in New York, but San Francisco felt basically dead. Tourist areas around Union Square and the Embarcadero were crowded, and the Mission on a Friday night was hopping, but otherwise the city was very quiet. Haight-Ashbury was nearly deserted and many neighborhoods had the feel of a ghost town. It’s very strange to be walking around a city with such a dense built fabric but so few people.”
I feel this way every, single, time, I visit San Francisco. I love San Francisco, but outside the main draws, the city feels eerily quiet. I have never understood why that is the case.
This is something that I am sensitive to because I find it even impacts my own energy levels. For instance, Sundays in Toronto often feel too quiet for me. Fewer pedestrians. Slower drivers. Our collective metabolic rate slows down.
I love the hustle of a busy city.
I toured 56 Leonard Street in New York today. The only picture I have on my phone is the above photo of the lobby. The rest of the photos are on my Fuji and so they’ll make their way to my Instagram over the coming days.
There’s lots that has already been said about the architecture of 56 Leonard, but one thing I wanted to point out was this idea of a “total work of art.” The German word for this: Gesamtkunstwerk. I’ve written about this before, here.
With many/most development projects, there will be a separate architect and a separate interiors firm. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with this approach, but it could lead to a disconnect between the exterior and interior. Or at least, some architects will tell you that.
In the case of 56 Leonard, the architect (Herzog & de Meuron) also designed all of the interiors – right down to the kitchens, the sinks and tubs, the light fixtures, and likely a few other things. Hence the “total work of art.”
It’s incredible to see what happens when you have one design sensibility brought to an entire project. 56 Leonard is beautiful. For the rest of the photos, make sure to follow me on Instagram.
In case you’re wondering, the condo prices in the building run between $3,500 and $5,000 psf. One of the penthouses recently sold for USD$47 million.
I came across this discussion on Twitter yesterday about how so many of the spaces we love in cities would not conform to today’s modern city planning practices:
@jonahletovsky we could go all weekend tweeting pics of places that would contravene modern formulaic codes, and yet are amazing envts.
— Gil Meslin (@g_meslin) October 29, 2016
//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js
This is a topic I’ve been thinking about lately and so it’s a timely discussion. In fact, I’ll often come across spaces in Toronto where I’ll think to myself: This is a really great space. But it’s highly unlikely that it could be built this way today. Naturally the question then becomes: What does this say about modern city planning?
City planning is obviously important. But at the same time, we are almost certainly making mistakes and doing things that we will later regret. I say this not because I’m particularly critical of planning today, but because cities are enormously complex entities and it’s difficult to believe that we’ve figured everything out at this point.
One thing I wonder about is if we aren’t over-planning and being too prescriptive about our cities. Some of you will probably argue the exact opposite. But hear me out.
Vancouver is a city that has long been considered to be the gold standard in modern city planning. We talk about its podium + tower building typology. We talk about its “gentle density.” And we talk about its great public and recreational spaces, among many other things.
But when I was there last month having dinner with a friend of mine, she said something to me that stood out. She said: “Brandon, Vancouver is a boring city. If it weren’t for my family being here, I would happily move to Toronto, New York, or somewhere else.”
Cities are amazing places because they unleash human ingenuity. They allow new and unforeseen things to emerge. The challenge, I think, is to not sterilize that away when we plan and build. And all of us involved in the building of cities are probably guilty of doing that to an extent.

Aaron Renn has a few observations up on his blog from a recent trip to San Francisco. Number 2 is as follows:
“A curiously low energy city. It’s tough to judge any American city’s street energy after living in New York, but San Francisco felt basically dead. Tourist areas around Union Square and the Embarcadero were crowded, and the Mission on a Friday night was hopping, but otherwise the city was very quiet. Haight-Ashbury was nearly deserted and many neighborhoods had the feel of a ghost town. It’s very strange to be walking around a city with such a dense built fabric but so few people.”
I feel this way every, single, time, I visit San Francisco. I love San Francisco, but outside the main draws, the city feels eerily quiet. I have never understood why that is the case.
This is something that I am sensitive to because I find it even impacts my own energy levels. For instance, Sundays in Toronto often feel too quiet for me. Fewer pedestrians. Slower drivers. Our collective metabolic rate slows down.
I love the hustle of a busy city.
I toured 56 Leonard Street in New York today. The only picture I have on my phone is the above photo of the lobby. The rest of the photos are on my Fuji and so they’ll make their way to my Instagram over the coming days.
There’s lots that has already been said about the architecture of 56 Leonard, but one thing I wanted to point out was this idea of a “total work of art.” The German word for this: Gesamtkunstwerk. I’ve written about this before, here.
With many/most development projects, there will be a separate architect and a separate interiors firm. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with this approach, but it could lead to a disconnect between the exterior and interior. Or at least, some architects will tell you that.
In the case of 56 Leonard, the architect (Herzog & de Meuron) also designed all of the interiors – right down to the kitchens, the sinks and tubs, the light fixtures, and likely a few other things. Hence the “total work of art.”
It’s incredible to see what happens when you have one design sensibility brought to an entire project. 56 Leonard is beautiful. For the rest of the photos, make sure to follow me on Instagram.
In case you’re wondering, the condo prices in the building run between $3,500 and $5,000 psf. One of the penthouses recently sold for USD$47 million.
I came across this discussion on Twitter yesterday about how so many of the spaces we love in cities would not conform to today’s modern city planning practices:
@jonahletovsky we could go all weekend tweeting pics of places that would contravene modern formulaic codes, and yet are amazing envts.
— Gil Meslin (@g_meslin) October 29, 2016
//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js
This is a topic I’ve been thinking about lately and so it’s a timely discussion. In fact, I’ll often come across spaces in Toronto where I’ll think to myself: This is a really great space. But it’s highly unlikely that it could be built this way today. Naturally the question then becomes: What does this say about modern city planning?
City planning is obviously important. But at the same time, we are almost certainly making mistakes and doing things that we will later regret. I say this not because I’m particularly critical of planning today, but because cities are enormously complex entities and it’s difficult to believe that we’ve figured everything out at this point.
One thing I wonder about is if we aren’t over-planning and being too prescriptive about our cities. Some of you will probably argue the exact opposite. But hear me out.
Vancouver is a city that has long been considered to be the gold standard in modern city planning. We talk about its podium + tower building typology. We talk about its “gentle density.” And we talk about its great public and recreational spaces, among many other things.
But when I was there last month having dinner with a friend of mine, she said something to me that stood out. She said: “Brandon, Vancouver is a boring city. If it weren’t for my family being here, I would happily move to Toronto, New York, or somewhere else.”
Cities are amazing places because they unleash human ingenuity. They allow new and unforeseen things to emerge. The challenge, I think, is to not sterilize that away when we plan and build. And all of us involved in the building of cities are probably guilty of doing that to an extent.
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