If you’re a regular reader of ATC, you’ll know that I often talk about cities in the same way that many people talk about products and services. (See: The business of cities.) And I do that because cities are our new economic unit and so I find it helpful to think of them as businesses fighting to attract and retain the best talent and win over customers (i.e. residents and businesses).

Which is why I’m intrigued by Jason Logan’s pitch to invent the position of Creative Director at the City of Toronto. Here’s his pitch:

“This is an open challenge to the all the mayoral candidates. In the past 10 years, Toronto has undergone a cultural, artistic, and technological renaissance: The ROM, the AGO, and OCAD U all underwent architectural makeovers; TIFF rose to prominence as one of the most prestigious film festivals in the world; Nuit Blanche was unleashed in 2006, and Luminato in 2007, both to huge acclaim; the high-tech industry has created 30,000 new jobs; and The New York Times admitted that Toronto’s culinary scene is more ethnically diverse than the five boroughs. But here’s the thing: The story we tell ourselves and the world about our remarkable city needs an overhaul. Toronto Needs a Creative Director is a campaign committed to building a better story by better mobilizing the arts, culture, and technology sectors to enhance civic engagement. The CDTO (the office of Creative Direction for the City of Toronto) would function as a lab for incubating ideas where art, culture, politics, science, and technology intersect.”

Truthfully, I’m not yet sure if a Creative Director is the ideal approach. I haven’t had a chance to give it enough thought. But I am certain that Toronto would benefit from a bunch of smart people who were focused on telling our story to the world, crafting our brand and identity, and honing the experience of living or visiting this great city.

I take the subway to the office every day and oftentimes I find myself standing there thinking about what the most efficient subway car interior would look like. I guess it’s the architect and designer in me, but I keep trying to rethink the seating arrangement.

My first thought is always that the perpendicular seats that shoot out into the middle of the train are a complete waste of space. If you’re tall (I’m 6’3”), they’re actually uncomfortable to sit in. Every time I do, I feel as if my femur is too long for the allotted space. 

One top of that, nobody ever wants to sit in the interior seat—primarily, I think, because they’re cumbersome to get in and out of when somebody is sitting beside you. So you end up with a countless number of cases where those benches are only half occupied.

But what’s really interesting about this thought exercise is that it can’t be done without also closely analyzing human behavior. Here’s what I’ve noticed here in Toronto.

People want to be as far away as possible from other people on the subway. It’s weird to sit beside someone unless you really have to. In fact, try this exercise: Walk onto a sparsely populated subway and sit directly beside somebody. I bet you that person will move and/or give you a dirty look.

What this means is that the end seats always fill up first. People don’t want middle seats, which, I’ve learned, is why they put grab poles in the middle of benches longer than 2 seats. They’re trying to simulate an end seat and make that middle seat feel less like it’s, well, in the middle. You get a pole in between you and the person next to you.

But before sitting in the middle seat, most people would rather stand. Standing is preferable to rubbing shoulders with someone, unless the subway train gets really busy, in which case people will start to sit anywhere. Typically people like to stand right beside the doors, because there’s a place to lean and it’s easy to get off when your stop comes. But this isn’t ideal from an onboarding and offboarding standpoint. It’s people in the way.

Of course, there are many others who have spent a lot more time than me thinking about this topic. A quick search revealed this Wired article talking about this very subject. And below is the layout that they recommend. The design is from the Transportation Research Board.

Their recommendation is to basically remove the seating around the middle doors, so that it’s easier for people to get on and off the train, and to stack airplane style seating towards both ends. In this scenario, the middle gets optimized for standing and the ends get optimized for sitting.

Now it’s your turn. Do you think this would be better or worse than what you have today in your city? Let me know in the comments below.

The “ground plane” is an important reference in architecture. The ground is typically where people walk. The ground is where our fabricated buildings meet the earth. And the ground is where our experience of the urban environment–however good or bad it may be–truly takes shape. Often times I feel that we, city dwellers, spend far too much time worrying about the height of buildings and not enough time worry about the ground floor.

But what if there were no clearly defined ground plane? This morning I stumbled upon an interesting book called, Cities Without Ground: A Hong Kong Guidebook. The authors call it “a manifesto for a new theory of urban form.” And the argument is that Hong Kong has developed a unique series of public/private spaces that allow it to function as a fully three-dimensional city. 

Through underground tunnels, above ground walkways, escalators, and other connective infrastructure, Hong Kong is reinventing the way we typically think about cities–both from a user experience and a real estate standpoint. Here’s an excerpt from the Guardian architecture and design blog:

The phenomenon began in the 1960s, when the Hongkong Land company, one of the main developers in the region, built an elevated walkway to connect a luxury hotel to the second storey of an adjacent shopping mall. An insignificant move, perhaps, but it in fact had the effect of changing the rentable values within the building: suddenly the mall’s second floor units could be rented out for more than those at ground level. It entirely recalibrated the vertical logic of real estate value.

Now, you could argue that Hong Kong is a unique place. And it is. Other, less dense cities, have found above and below grade walkways to be a destroyer of urban vibrancy. But in Hong Kong it works and, as many other cities around the world focus their energies on urban intensification, we may find that Hong Kong is indeed a new model for urban form.