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Conventional planning wisdom tells us that smaller city blocks are generally preferable to larger city blocks. They make for more interesting walks (which can change our perception of distance) and they improve overall connectivity. This is why you'll often hear planners advocate for things like "mid-block connections." It is a way of creating the feeling of smaller blocks.
Salt Lake City, as we have talked about, is the opposite of this. Its blocks measure 660 feet x 660 feet (call it 200m x 200m for those of us more accustomed to using the international standard for measuring things). This means that if you were to walk only 2 blocks (inclusive of 2 streets), your walk would be close to 500m, which is a commonly used walking/transit radius.
Things get a bit tricker when you're not walking in a straight line. For example, if you found yourself wanting to cross a street somewhere in the middle of a block -- and you wanted to obey all traffic safety rules and not jaywalk -- you would need to walk over 200m just to get to the opposite side. So basically a whole other block.
There are also instances where even this street grid gets interrupted. This past weekend, I spent an evening walking to and from dinner on Main Street. And at one point, I got caught trying to cross the convention center (which occupies 3 blocks). I guess I could have tried to cut through, but I walked around, which added 2 additional blocks (~600m in total).
Thankfully, SLC also has many instances of new mid-block streets/connections, road diets, internal laneways, and enhanced center medians, among many other things. I mean, here are some plans to turn Main Street into a pedestrian promenade. All of these interventions are an effort to soften the city's underlying block structure, which we know tends to be indelible in cities.
Conventional planning wisdom tells us that smaller city blocks are generally preferable to larger city blocks. They make for more interesting walks (which can change our perception of distance) and they improve overall connectivity. This is why you'll often hear planners advocate for things like "mid-block connections." It is a way of creating the feeling of smaller blocks.
Salt Lake City, as we have talked about, is the opposite of this. Its blocks measure 660 feet x 660 feet (call it 200m x 200m for those of us more accustomed to using the international standard for measuring things). This means that if you were to walk only 2 blocks (inclusive of 2 streets), your walk would be close to 500m, which is a commonly used walking/transit radius.
Things get a bit tricker when you're not walking in a straight line. For example, if you found yourself wanting to cross a street somewhere in the middle of a block -- and you wanted to obey all traffic safety rules and not jaywalk -- you would need to walk over 200m just to get to the opposite side. So basically a whole other block.
There are also instances where even this street grid gets interrupted. This past weekend, I spent an evening walking to and from dinner on Main Street. And at one point, I got caught trying to cross the convention center (which occupies 3 blocks). I guess I could have tried to cut through, but I walked around, which added 2 additional blocks (~600m in total).
Thankfully, SLC also has many instances of new mid-block streets/connections, road diets, internal laneways, and enhanced center medians, among many other things. I mean, here are some plans to turn Main Street into a pedestrian promenade. All of these interventions are an effort to soften the city's underlying block structure, which we know tends to be indelible in cities.
We stumbled on Bar Volo last night on our evening walk (pictured above). It's on St. Nicholas Street, which I guess is technically a street. But it feels and acts more like a laneway. I was naturally pretty excited by this discovery and so I tweeted this out. I was then called out for glorifying this laneway because: 1) this is only one small storefront, 2) the rest of the laneway is kind of pooey, and 3) there are other, better, examples of complete laneways in the city such as throughout Toronto's Yorkville neighborhood. Okay.
What got me excited is that this is a recent development -- there's a residential building above this welcoming bottle shop -- that managed to successfully create fine-grained urbanism and activate a laneway frontage that could have very easily gone underutilized. Now imagine if every new development with some sort of laneway frontage did things as meaningful as this. Piece by piece, we would be building another layer to our city. (I like to think that we're contributing to this vision with our laneway towns at Junction House. They are, by the way, 100% sold out. Go laneway living.)
It's easy to get excited by the bigger urban moves. A new tall building or a Ferris wheel on the waterfront, perhaps. But sometimes the answer is as simple as a small brewery, a narrow and imperfect laneway, and a roll up garage door.
We stumbled on Bar Volo last night on our evening walk (pictured above). It's on St. Nicholas Street, which I guess is technically a street. But it feels and acts more like a laneway. I was naturally pretty excited by this discovery and so I tweeted this out. I was then called out for glorifying this laneway because: 1) this is only one small storefront, 2) the rest of the laneway is kind of pooey, and 3) there are other, better, examples of complete laneways in the city such as throughout Toronto's Yorkville neighborhood. Okay.
What got me excited is that this is a recent development -- there's a residential building above this welcoming bottle shop -- that managed to successfully create fine-grained urbanism and activate a laneway frontage that could have very easily gone underutilized. Now imagine if every new development with some sort of laneway frontage did things as meaningful as this. Piece by piece, we would be building another layer to our city. (I like to think that we're contributing to this vision with our laneway towns at Junction House. They are, by the way, 100% sold out. Go laneway living.)
It's easy to get excited by the bigger urban moves. A new tall building or a Ferris wheel on the waterfront, perhaps. But sometimes the answer is as simple as a small brewery, a narrow and imperfect laneway, and a roll up garage door.
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