We don't like coal today, but it certainly transformed Victorian-era architecture:
“It is the biggest transition in the history of our species, with the possible exception of starting to use fire at all in the first place,” says Barnabas Calder, author of the groundbreaking study “Architecture: From Prehistory to Climate Emergency.” Fireplaces had to be redesigned for coal, smaller, and more efficient, and could now be distributed throughout the house, warming a sequence of smaller rooms that contained heat more efficiently. Brick, which also requires substantial amounts of energy to produce, became affordable. And glass, too, was accessible to ordinary people. “Coal affects the way you can achieve comfort conditions in a building, and it is a very affordable way of producing a significant amount of warmth, which allows for bigger windows. Even more significant is that it opens up a series of new building materials.”
But as new technologies transformed how we thought about it architecture, they also transformed how we thought about climate. Buildings used to have to be carefully "tuned" to their local environment. You had to think about where the sun was coming in, how you were going to trap it during the winter months, and how you were going to release it during the summer months, among many other things.
Eventually though, this stopped mattering.
We had building systems that could take care of these matters, which then meant that we were free to aspire to build the exact same architecture in Phoenix as in London. But we now know that that this doesn't make much sense. And this recent architectural tour from the Washington Post, which starts in 16th century England, is a good reminder that the lessons learned many centuries ago are in fact still relevant today.
Maybe even more so.
There is, of course, part of me that admires what King Charles III has been trying to do in Poundbury (a small master-planned community on the outskirts of Dorchester, England). It is a community that has deliberately rejected the modern suburban in favor of traditional main-street urbanism. It is denser than you'd expect. It has a mix of uses. And it has been generally designed around people, rather than the car.
On the other hand, I could never ever live there:
To live here is to live under Charles’s rules (it is not clear whether William intends to be more flexible). Currently, Poundbury residents are embroiled in a debate about windows: The Duchy says that only wooden sash windows are permitted. Many residents would like to replace theirs with vinyl or fibreglass windows, which are easier to maintain and, crucially, more energy-efficient – and Poundbury is theoretically a ecologically advanced town. So far, the Duchy is not willing to budge.
The last thing I want in my life is someone telling me what kind of windows I can install and what kind of architectural styles are suitable. Messy and organic urbanism suits me just fine.
It has been well documented that Tokyo tends to build a lot of housing. And the argument goes that this has helped to maintain a certain level of housing affordability. The city is constantly building and rebuilding. It also has different views about housing. Now, we could, of course, debate how much of its relative affordability is a direct result of supply but, regardless, there seems to be a lot of it. In 2014, the city of Tokyo saw 142,417 housing starts, according to this recent FT article. This is compared to ~5,000 units across the Bay Area (2015 data), 83,657 units for the state of California, and 137,010 units for all of England.
If you're wondering how Toronto is doing, here are the latest numbers:
https://twitter.com/GreggLintern/status/1306614244650164226?s=20