The founder and Editor-in-Chief of Monocle Magazine, Tyler Brûle, recently had a nice trip to Ottawa:

If you’ve never been to Ottawa, don’t bother. Of all the G7 capitals, it’s one that hardly conjures up much in the way of attractive images. Don’t believe me? Try it. What comes to mind? What stands out? You see what I mean? No Big Ben, no Lincoln Memorial, no Eiffel Tower. Ottawa might have had an easier time when Germany was partitioned and Bonn was its capital but that credit ran out when Berlin was reinstated as Haúptstadt and the Brandenburg Gate roared back as a symbol for the Federal Republic’s capital.

He and his mom also thoroughly enjoyed their hotel:

We walked into the bar and the whole space seemed gripped by a similar force that plagued the front desk: no speed, movement or sense of urgency. A man-child showed us to the table and barely said a word. His colleagues at the bar were having their own discussion, disconnected from the patrons around them. I started to laugh. My mother urged me to stop. “It’s incredible that this is the best that our country can do for people coming to the capital, no?” I said.

As an unabashedly proud Canadian, this is deeply upsetting. It is upsetting because a lack of movement, a lack of urgency, and an overall lack of engagement are truly terrible qualities to possess. But more importantly, it is upsetting because one could argue that Tyler's Ottawa and hotel experiences were a microcosm of some broader national issues around Canadian complacency.

The UK has something called the National Model Design Code. The purpose of this national code is to provide guidance to local authorities and communities on the production of policies that promote successful design. More specifically, it is intended to help people determine what "good quality design looks like in their area."

So as part of this, the code wades into subjective things like beauty, attractiveness, and distinctiveness (see above chart). This is an interesting discussion -- and a topic in this recent Monocle radio episode -- because, at the end of the day, is there really such a thing as universal beauty? Can we all agree on what the most beautifully designed places in the world are?

At the same time, and architect Félicie Krikler points this out in the Monocle episode, there are countless examples of ugly places that are still wildly successful by all other urban measures. Is that okay or should they also be beautiful? And if budgets are tight (they always are), is it better to be a beautiful building or to be a more affordable one? Uh oh.

There is also a temporal consideration. Sometimes the things that were once thought to be ugly are now actually thought to be quite beautiful. Beauty can take time, and places sometimes take time to settle in and find their best uses. This is something that I have written about a few times before on the blog.

All of this being said, I believe wholeheartedly in the importance of beautiful places. And I don't think we talk enough about it. Too often we get hung up on esoteric planning stuff, even though so many of the places that we love would never meet these same tests. However subjective as it may be, more beauty is rarely a bad thing.

Image: National Model Design Code

Alexis Self has an opinion piece in today's Monocle Minute (email newsletter) that deals with development in London and NIMBYism. Here's an excerpt:

Affluent, socially liberal city dwellers can be the most extreme Nimbys. But perhaps their ire wouldn’t be so fierce if what was being built weren’t so aesthetically offensive. In the postwar era, London’s councils teemed with ambitious urban planners. The result: design classics such as Trellick Tower in Kensal Green, the Barbican Estate and Camden’s Alexandra Road Estate. While it’s true that these were labelled ugly at the time, they were undeniably the work of Europe’s best architects. Few, if any, of the city’s 21st-century edifices will enjoy a similar reappraisal.

Alexis raises two interesting points: 1) Could better architecture and design actually help to quash NIMBY sentiment and 2) are we really not designing and building like we used to?

I'll start with number two.

I am not that familiar with the "design classics" that Alexis mentions above, but it just so happens then when I was watching Never Too Small over the weekend I came across this studio apartment in the Barbican Estate.

Designed by Chamberlin, Powell and Bon in the 1960s, the Barbican is a residential complex with somewhere around 2,000 apartments. It's considered a prominent example of British brutalist architecture and so most of it is listed.

While certainly noteworthy, it strikes me that it is likely one of those pieces of architecture that designers and architects love (I like it), but that the general public dislikes. In fact, architect Witold Rybczynski once argued that, "if people don't hate it, it can't be Brutalist."

Brutalism is having a bit of a renaissance. Kind of. But I don't think we're anywhere near universal appreciation. So I wonder if the general public really views these "design classics" as being some sort of golden era of British architecture and development.

I also think, and I have argued this before on the blog, that buildings sometimes take time to settle in. From Montreal to Stockholm, our perceptions have been shown to change. The things we disliked before suddenly become desirable.

Which means it can be hard to tell if we objectively dislike something (we're not building like we used to) or if it's simply not old enough for us to starting appreciating it. Beauty also happens to be a kind of subjective thing when it comes to buildings. Turns out we're better at assessing whether people are good looking.

This is probably a good time to come back to point number one: Could better architecture help quash NIMBYism?

Not quite. I would argue that it certainly helps but it won't completely quash it. I believe wholeheartedly in the power of great design. I want everything to be beautiful and considered. But the cynical developer in me knows that it will sadly only go so far.

Béton brut (raw concrete) isn't for everyone, I guess.