One of things I love about cities is the hustle and bustle of people.
I would rather eat at a busy restaurant than a quiet or dead one. I would rather workout at a busy gym than one with nobody there. And I would rather work in an office or at a coffee shop than work at home by myself. Working at home actually drains me if I do too much of it.
The reason for that is because I derive a lot of my energy from the outside world. Urban life energizes me. To Swiss psychiatrist Carl Jung, that is the defining characteristic of an extrovert. I am focused on the “outside world of objects.”
But because of this, I can’t help but slowdown during the holidays. Once the city dials down and the streets become emptier, my mood actually changes. I don’t feel as energized.
It’s fascinating to think about the connection that many of us have with urban life. Since the first cities were established there has always been some kind of centralized place, market, or agora (in the case of ancient Greek cities) where people came together to exchange goods and ideas.
But one of the most interesting turning points for modern urban life, as we know it today, came in 19th century France with poets and writers such as
One of things I love about cities is the hustle and bustle of people.
I would rather eat at a busy restaurant than a quiet or dead one. I would rather workout at a busy gym than one with nobody there. And I would rather work in an office or at a coffee shop than work at home by myself. Working at home actually drains me if I do too much of it.
The reason for that is because I derive a lot of my energy from the outside world. Urban life energizes me. To Swiss psychiatrist Carl Jung, that is the defining characteristic of an extrovert. I am focused on the “outside world of objects.”
But because of this, I can’t help but slowdown during the holidays. Once the city dials down and the streets become emptier, my mood actually changes. I don’t feel as energized.
It’s fascinating to think about the connection that many of us have with urban life. Since the first cities were established there has always been some kind of centralized place, market, or agora (in the case of ancient Greek cities) where people came together to exchange goods and ideas.
But one of the most interesting turning points for modern urban life, as we know it today, came in 19th century France with poets and writers such as
At the time that Baudelaire was active, Paris was undergoing Hussmannization. It was being transformed from a medieval city with cramped narrow streets into a modern metropolis of broad avenues.
And essential to these new streets and urban spaces was the flâneur. At the time, the flâneur was an important literary and artistic figure. He was a man about town. A man of leisure. An urban explorer in the new modern metropolis.
The crowd is his element, as the air is that of birds and water of fishes. His passion and his profession are to become one flesh with the crowd. For the perfect flâneur, for the passionate spectator, it is an immense joy to set up house in the heart of the multitude, amid the ebb and flow of movement, in the midst of the fugitive and the infinite. To be away from home and yet to feel oneself everywhere at home; to see the world, to be at the centre of the world, and yet to remain hidden from the world—impartial natures which the tongue can but clumsily define. The spectator is a prince who everywhere rejoices in his incognito.
One of the central themes at the time was that of anonymity. The modern city had grown to such a scale that a paradox had emerged. Despite all its density and physical proximity, urban life had an isolating effect. It had become easy to just be a number in an ephemeral crowd.
But fascinating to me is this idea that urban life – with all its ebbs and flows – could bring “immense joy” to the flâneur. In fact, the very definition of a flâneur was someone who did nothing. They weren’t capitalists on the pursuit of new material possessions. Their sole focus was urban life and nothing else.
And while most of us probably don’t routinely wander around our own cities as tourists without purpose, I suspect that many of us can appreciate the impact that urban life has on us. I know I do. It gives me energy.
And what it was really about was that when we say there’s no more room (I guess people are saying this), we are really saying that we just don’t want to allow anyone else to become our neighbor. Because the reality is that urban population densities vary widely around the world. So how can you really call a place full?
As a follow-up to that, here is a chart based on the findings of a research report completed by Peter Newman and Jeffrey Kenworthy way back in 1989. On the x-axis is urban density (i.e. built form) and on the y-axis is per capita transport related energy consumption.
At the time that Baudelaire was active, Paris was undergoing Hussmannization. It was being transformed from a medieval city with cramped narrow streets into a modern metropolis of broad avenues.
And essential to these new streets and urban spaces was the flâneur. At the time, the flâneur was an important literary and artistic figure. He was a man about town. A man of leisure. An urban explorer in the new modern metropolis.
The crowd is his element, as the air is that of birds and water of fishes. His passion and his profession are to become one flesh with the crowd. For the perfect flâneur, for the passionate spectator, it is an immense joy to set up house in the heart of the multitude, amid the ebb and flow of movement, in the midst of the fugitive and the infinite. To be away from home and yet to feel oneself everywhere at home; to see the world, to be at the centre of the world, and yet to remain hidden from the world—impartial natures which the tongue can but clumsily define. The spectator is a prince who everywhere rejoices in his incognito.
One of the central themes at the time was that of anonymity. The modern city had grown to such a scale that a paradox had emerged. Despite all its density and physical proximity, urban life had an isolating effect. It had become easy to just be a number in an ephemeral crowd.
But fascinating to me is this idea that urban life – with all its ebbs and flows – could bring “immense joy” to the flâneur. In fact, the very definition of a flâneur was someone who did nothing. They weren’t capitalists on the pursuit of new material possessions. Their sole focus was urban life and nothing else.
And while most of us probably don’t routinely wander around our own cities as tourists without purpose, I suspect that many of us can appreciate the impact that urban life has on us. I know I do. It gives me energy.
And what it was really about was that when we say there’s no more room (I guess people are saying this), we are really saying that we just don’t want to allow anyone else to become our neighbor. Because the reality is that urban population densities vary widely around the world. So how can you really call a place full?
As a follow-up to that, here is a chart based on the findings of a research report completed by Peter Newman and Jeffrey Kenworthy way back in 1989. On the x-axis is urban density (i.e. built form) and on the y-axis is per capita transport related energy consumption.
I’m not sure I feel this pain point as much as the author, but I always find population densities to be a fascinating topic. And accompanying the article was a
– that allowed you to compare the population densities of various cities.
Here are are two scenarios I ran:
It’s important to keep in mind that these numbers are averages for the entire economically contiguous region. So it tells you nothing about the potential spikiness of certain areas. That’s why the population density of New York (which includes portions of New Jersey and Connecticut) probably seems low to you.
Still, it’s fascinating to see how extreme some cities – including some first world cities like Hong Kong – can be. Clearly many cities have a lot of room to become a lot more dense. And I think that would be a good thing.
What this chart shows is that as cities become more dense, “automobile dependence” is reduced in favor of, other, more sustainable forms of transport.
Here we have Houston at the top left (meaning it has the highest transport-related energy consumption per capita) and Hong Kong all the way on the bottom right. Hong Kong has by far the highest density among the cities looked at in this study, but Moscow seems to have the lowest per capita energy consumption. Still, the trend appears clear.
Some people think of “density” as a dirty word. But there are lots of benefits to dense urban centers. And density does not necessarily have to mean tall buildings.
I’m not sure I feel this pain point as much as the author, but I always find population densities to be a fascinating topic. And accompanying the article was a
– that allowed you to compare the population densities of various cities.
Here are are two scenarios I ran:
It’s important to keep in mind that these numbers are averages for the entire economically contiguous region. So it tells you nothing about the potential spikiness of certain areas. That’s why the population density of New York (which includes portions of New Jersey and Connecticut) probably seems low to you.
Still, it’s fascinating to see how extreme some cities – including some first world cities like Hong Kong – can be. Clearly many cities have a lot of room to become a lot more dense. And I think that would be a good thing.
What this chart shows is that as cities become more dense, “automobile dependence” is reduced in favor of, other, more sustainable forms of transport.
Here we have Houston at the top left (meaning it has the highest transport-related energy consumption per capita) and Hong Kong all the way on the bottom right. Hong Kong has by far the highest density among the cities looked at in this study, but Moscow seems to have the lowest per capita energy consumption. Still, the trend appears clear.
Some people think of “density” as a dirty word. But there are lots of benefits to dense urban centers. And density does not necessarily have to mean tall buildings.
