Last week I went for a tour of Sidewalk Labs' "307" workshop here in Toronto. In it they have a generative urban design tool that allows you to toggle things like density, building shape, building height, the amount of green space, the distribution of green space, and so on.
Perhaps some of you have seen it or used it before. The controls look like this:
After you're done playing around with the dials, you are then able to provide feedback on the design that you've birthed through two very simple feedback buttons. One is a happy face. And the other is a sad face. (I wonder if the placement of these two buttons has any impact on responses.)
What I like about this tool is that it immediately imposes a certain degree of reality and it forces you, the participant, to acknowledge the various trade-offs that need to be considered when you're designing and planning a city.
For example, if you want lots of parks and public spaces, but you want to hold population density constant -- perhaps because you're trying to make use of an investment made in transit infrastructure -- well then you'll need to accept taller buildings.
A very similar thought process goes into each and every development pro forma as we all try and manage the myriad of competing interests. But I guess this is also true of life in general. There are gives and there are takes.
121 East 22nd -- which is OMA's first ground-up project in Manhattan -- recently finished up construction at the corner of E 23rd St and Lexington Ave (the site continues through to E 22nd St, where there is basically a 2nd building). I wrote about the project over two years ago, here.
Below is a photo by Laurian Ghinitoiu, via Dezeen, of it completed:
The 2020 Summer Olympics, which will be held in Tokyo, have added 5 new sports, one of which is skateboarding. As someone who grew up skateboarding as a teenager, and is all too familiar with being chased out of public spaces, this lends a great deal of legitimacy to the sport.
It's hard to think of a sport that is more closely connected with architecture and, more specifically, public architecture. Curbed's recent long-form article about "the public spaces that shaped skateboarding" is a good reminder of that. Here is an excerpt (EMB refers to Embarcadero Plaza in San Francisco, which was previously known as Justin Herman Plaza):
When skateboarding debuts at the Tokyo Olympics next summer, some three decades after the first polyurethane wheels hit the bricks at EMB, it will have completed the long, improbable trip from criminal act to social and institutional acceptance. But even as an Olympic sport, skateboarding will remain a direct physical response to the varied terrain of American public architecture.
Interestingly enough, one could go on to argue that the history of skateboarding is really steeped in the adoption of public spaces that had, in many cases, failed to serve their intended purpose. In other words, skateboarders were often the only people using these urban spaces:
“What made Justin Herman Plaza attractive to skateboarders and work for skateboarders was its inappropriateness to the traditional city scale and function,” King says. “You had all these planners and architects in the 1950s and ’60s saying cities need these grand, celebratory spaces—and they really didn’t.” But apparently skaters did.
Welcome skateboarding to the 2020 Summer Olympics in Tokyo.
The defining feature is its "prismatic corner", which, I understand from this interview with David Von Spreckelsen (President of Toll Brothers City Living), was largely an outcome of the site's restrictive zoning. There was a requirement to have constant street walls. That minimized what could be done architecturally on the project's main elevations.
The solution is two contextual street walls -- the punched windows are designed to match the rhythm of their adjoining buildings -- coming together and creating dramatic visual interest only at the point where they intersect. Below is a rolled out elevation from OMA. Note the gradient created by the windows as they converge toward the corner (center in the drawing below).
The other interesting thing about this project is that it reminded me just how different the built form of Manhattan can be compared to Toronto. In the case of 121 East 22nd, the streetwalls rise 150 feet without any stepbacks. There is then a 10 foot stepback before the building rises another 60 feet -- similarly without any additional breaks.
I love the grandeur.
Share Dialog
Share Dialog
Share Dialog
