In grad school, I was fortunate enough to be a teaching assistant for a class called Urban Real Estate Economics, which was taught by Dr. Richard Voith. It was one of my favorite classes. So if you ever find yourself at the Wharton School, I would highly recommend it.
Richard is also the President of a consulting firm in Philadelphia called Econsult Solutions. And I think a lot of what they focus on would be of interest to the audience of this blog. Their focus is on urban economics, real estate economics, transportation, public policy, and – you get the idea.
Recently, he wrote a post called, Moving Cities: Berlin, where he outlines some of the transportation decisions that West and East Berlin made in the second half of the 20th century.
What I found most interesting was how the trams of East Berlin were stigmatized to represent communism and a centrally planned economy. On the other hand, West Berlin was all about the free market, and the symbol for that was none other than the automobile. That meant that the trams had to go.
In grad school, I was fortunate enough to be a teaching assistant for a class called Urban Real Estate Economics, which was taught by Dr. Richard Voith. It was one of my favorite classes. So if you ever find yourself at the Wharton School, I would highly recommend it.
Richard is also the President of a consulting firm in Philadelphia called Econsult Solutions. And I think a lot of what they focus on would be of interest to the audience of this blog. Their focus is on urban economics, real estate economics, transportation, public policy, and – you get the idea.
Recently, he wrote a post called, Moving Cities: Berlin, where he outlines some of the transportation decisions that West and East Berlin made in the second half of the 20th century.
What I found most interesting was how the trams of East Berlin were stigmatized to represent communism and a centrally planned economy. On the other hand, West Berlin was all about the free market, and the symbol for that was none other than the automobile. That meant that the trams had to go.
Here is a quote that he shares from B.R. Shenoy, first published in August 15th, 1960:
“The main thoroughfares of West Berlin are near jammed with prosperous looking automobile traffic, the German make of cars, big and small, being much in evidence. Buses and trams dominate the thoroughfares in East Berlin; other automobiles, generally old and small cars, are in much smaller numbers than in West Berlin. One notices cars parked in front of workers’ quarters in West Berlin… In contrast with what one sees in West Berlin, the buildings [in East Berlin] here are generally grey from neglect, the furnishings lack in brightness and quality, and the roads and pavements are shabby…”
My favorite line: “…jammed with prosperous looking automobile traffic.”
Of course, Berlin wasn’t the only city to eschew trams in the 20th century. Detroit and Los Angeles both did exactly the same thing. But in Berlin, this philosophy wasn’t applied equally across the urban fabric. And that’s what makes it a particularly interesting case study.
I don’t know Berlin well enough to comment specifically, but Richard writes about how parts of East Berlin remained quite pedestrian friendly compared to West Berlin. That makes intuitive sense, given that it didn’t reorient itself towards the car in the same way that the West did. That being the case, I am curious to what extent those parts of the city may be benefiting today.
In any event, you should also give Richard’s article a read. You can do that here.
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:
When it comes to a real estate market, there are always the typical metrics: sale prices, rents, vacancy and so on. But I’m always interested when somebody looks at the market in a different way and comes up with other kinds of metrics.
That’s why I was intrigued when I stumbled upon this post by Sam Floy, where he looks at the concentration of coffee shops and friend chicken shops across London in order to determine which neighborhoods are in fact “up and coming.”
To give you a taste, here’s his coffee shop map:
Here is a quote that he shares from B.R. Shenoy, first published in August 15th, 1960:
“The main thoroughfares of West Berlin are near jammed with prosperous looking automobile traffic, the German make of cars, big and small, being much in evidence. Buses and trams dominate the thoroughfares in East Berlin; other automobiles, generally old and small cars, are in much smaller numbers than in West Berlin. One notices cars parked in front of workers’ quarters in West Berlin… In contrast with what one sees in West Berlin, the buildings [in East Berlin] here are generally grey from neglect, the furnishings lack in brightness and quality, and the roads and pavements are shabby…”
My favorite line: “…jammed with prosperous looking automobile traffic.”
Of course, Berlin wasn’t the only city to eschew trams in the 20th century. Detroit and Los Angeles both did exactly the same thing. But in Berlin, this philosophy wasn’t applied equally across the urban fabric. And that’s what makes it a particularly interesting case study.
I don’t know Berlin well enough to comment specifically, but Richard writes about how parts of East Berlin remained quite pedestrian friendly compared to West Berlin. That makes intuitive sense, given that it didn’t reorient itself towards the car in the same way that the West did. That being the case, I am curious to what extent those parts of the city may be benefiting today.
In any event, you should also give Richard’s article a read. You can do that here.
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:
When it comes to a real estate market, there are always the typical metrics: sale prices, rents, vacancy and so on. But I’m always interested when somebody looks at the market in a different way and comes up with other kinds of metrics.
That’s why I was intrigued when I stumbled upon this post by Sam Floy, where he looks at the concentration of coffee shops and friend chicken shops across London in order to determine which neighborhoods are in fact “up and coming.”
To give you a taste, here’s his coffee shop map:
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.
His thinking was that if a neighborhood had a high density of coffee shops, a low density of fried chicken shops, and relatively low house prices, then it could probably be thought of as up and coming.
Coffee shops are often considered to be leading indicators of urban change (i.e. gentrification), and, well, friend chicken places I guess speak to a different kind of neighborhood.
These sorts of playful studies aren’t going to tell you exactly which numbers you should be plugging into your development pro forma. But I think unconventional analyses can sometimes tell you a bit more of the story behind the numbers.
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.
His thinking was that if a neighborhood had a high density of coffee shops, a low density of fried chicken shops, and relatively low house prices, then it could probably be thought of as up and coming.
Coffee shops are often considered to be leading indicators of urban change (i.e. gentrification), and, well, friend chicken places I guess speak to a different kind of neighborhood.
These sorts of playful studies aren’t going to tell you exactly which numbers you should be plugging into your development pro forma. But I think unconventional analyses can sometimes tell you a bit more of the story behind the numbers.
