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I was riding my bike on Bloor Street along the north edge of High Park over the weekend. And in between cyclists in spandex yelling at me for seemingly riding the wrong way in the bike lanes, I managed to safely snap this picture:
It was a reminder of that thing we like to do in Toronto where we want lower-rise along our main streets and then we tuck the taller parts somewhere in the back so that we can pretend they are maybe not there. Here's an aerial shot of the situation from Google Maps:
It's a very different condition from what you will find in New York along virtually all edges of Central Park:
Now, New York and Toronto are not the same city. This much is obvious.
But there is a grandeur and degree of urbanity that is present along Central Park that is not present along High Park. And I would argue that this feature isn't exclusive to New York. It can be found in many other cities, including places like Montreal.
I am sure that part of the rationale here on Bloor Street had to do with matching the lower-rise existing context. But we shouldn't forget that the edges of public spaces are oftentimes just as important as the spaces themselves. Sometimes they can be even more important.
So I thought I would put it out to all of you. To stepback or not to stepback. What do you think would be the most appropriate built form along this north edge of High Park? Leave a comment below.
I was riding my bike on Bloor Street along the north edge of High Park over the weekend. And in between cyclists in spandex yelling at me for seemingly riding the wrong way in the bike lanes, I managed to safely snap this picture:
It was a reminder of that thing we like to do in Toronto where we want lower-rise along our main streets and then we tuck the taller parts somewhere in the back so that we can pretend they are maybe not there. Here's an aerial shot of the situation from Google Maps:
It's a very different condition from what you will find in New York along virtually all edges of Central Park:
Now, New York and Toronto are not the same city. This much is obvious.
But there is a grandeur and degree of urbanity that is present along Central Park that is not present along High Park. And I would argue that this feature isn't exclusive to New York. It can be found in many other cities, including places like Montreal.
I am sure that part of the rationale here on Bloor Street had to do with matching the lower-rise existing context. But we shouldn't forget that the edges of public spaces are oftentimes just as important as the spaces themselves. Sometimes they can be even more important.
So I thought I would put it out to all of you. To stepback or not to stepback. What do you think would be the most appropriate built form along this north edge of High Park? Leave a comment below.
I was in Montreal for the long weekend and I decided to take the time off from writing. I don't do that very often, but it was the right thing to do this past weekend.
Montreal is one of my favorite cities. I spent quite a bit of time there when I was in my early 20s and I almost ended up at McGill for my undergraduate degree. So I have a soft spot for the place.
One of my friends once described Montreal to me (and contrasted it against Toronto) by saying that it has grandeur. And I think that is exactly the right word.
There are so many moments throughout the city where you just feel its impressiveness. It's almost as if, from the very beginning, the city knew what it was destined to become.
In contrast to this, urban planner Joe Berridge has, in the past, referred to Toronto as an accidental metropolis. And I think that is a similarly accurate way of describing our city.
Sometimes in Toronto (or perhaps oftentimes, depending on who you ask), you have to scratch a little beneath the surface to find what makes Toronto a truly great city.
It's as if the city didn't know what it was destined to become, and built accordingly. Things just happened -- accidentally.
Grandeur isn't usually something that is discussed today in city planning circles. We instead talk about things like angular planes, context and, of course, building height.
But maybe it's time we rethink our list of requirements. Maybe it's time we ask ourselves: "Are we creating a city with grandeur?"
Image: Drone photo from the top of Mount Royal
I was in Montreal for the long weekend and I decided to take the time off from writing. I don't do that very often, but it was the right thing to do this past weekend.
Montreal is one of my favorite cities. I spent quite a bit of time there when I was in my early 20s and I almost ended up at McGill for my undergraduate degree. So I have a soft spot for the place.
One of my friends once described Montreal to me (and contrasted it against Toronto) by saying that it has grandeur. And I think that is exactly the right word.
There are so many moments throughout the city where you just feel its impressiveness. It's almost as if, from the very beginning, the city knew what it was destined to become.
In contrast to this, urban planner Joe Berridge has, in the past, referred to Toronto as an accidental metropolis. And I think that is a similarly accurate way of describing our city.
Sometimes in Toronto (or perhaps oftentimes, depending on who you ask), you have to scratch a little beneath the surface to find what makes Toronto a truly great city.
It's as if the city didn't know what it was destined to become, and built accordingly. Things just happened -- accidentally.
Grandeur isn't usually something that is discussed today in city planning circles. We instead talk about things like angular planes, context and, of course, building height.
But maybe it's time we rethink our list of requirements. Maybe it's time we ask ourselves: "Are we creating a city with grandeur?"
Image: Drone photo from the top of Mount Royal
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