Tag: paris

• La tour Montparnasse at ground level

  

  The Tour Montparnasse in Paris recently turned 50. We spoke about that over here. But having visited the tower last week, including its top observation deck, I can now confidently say that I understand why many/most Parisians dislike it so much.

  It is a complex that could be in any city in the world and it is clear that it has been seeing disinvestment for quite some time (presumably due to its upcoming renovation). 

  However, a lot of the discussion seems to be focused on how its built form is a towering contrast to the rest of Paris. This is, of course, correct. But the same is true of the Eiffel Tower. One big and important difference is how these two towers meet the ground.

  La Tour Eiffel sits in a beautiful landscaped park where people sit and hang out (photo by me):

  

  Whereas the Tour Montparnasse is disconnected from its surrounding context. It feels like that train station on the wrong side of town (photos from Google Streetview):

  

  

  

  So it’s no wonder that its height gets picked on. What is implicit in this treatment of the ground plane is a belief that this tower is not worthy of celebrating. It does not deserve a beautiful park. And it does not deserve to be a ceremonial view terminus like every other icon in Paris.

  Thankfully, the current design for its renovation appears to address this (rendering via Nouvelle AOM):

  

  And this is arguably the most important design move. Ironically, what happens at the ground level could be what makes people finally appreciate what happens up top.

  2023.09.04

• The Arc de Triomphe roundabout takes some getting used to

  In case I haven’t been clear enough: I love cities. I vividly remember being a kid and being excited to come downtown. My mom has told me that my eyes used to light up — every, single, time. Even today, when I’m away from Toronto and I return home, I’m excited to see the skyline. I miss it.

  This afternoon I got that same feeling on our return to Paris, even though it is not home. We spent the last two days in Normandy, specifically Étretat and Rouen, and as beautiful and as wonderful as these places are, I was genuinely excited to come back to the capital.

  My other revelation is that driving in Paris sucks.

  I would much rather walk, cycle, or take the metro. That is what this city is designed for. Still, I’m happy that we rented a car for Normandy and that I learned — after being honked at — how to appropriately conduct myself in the infamous Arc de Triomphe roundabout.

  Unlike every other roundabout in the world, you do not yield to cars already in the circle; you yield to cars entering the circle. Once you understand that, it’s significantly easier. Though, supposedly, car accidents that happen within the circle are automatically every driver’s fault and every insurer pays.

  I guess that says something about its orderliness.

  Aren’t cities wonderful?

  2023.08.28

• The Tour Montparnasse just turned 50 and people still hate it

  

  We have spoken about Paris’ Tour Montparnasse before on the blog, and spoken more broadly about the city’s discomfort with tall buildings. The Tour Montparnasse is the only skyscraper within the city limits of Paris. If you include the Eiffel Tower, it is one of only two really tall things, though this will soon increase to three with the addition of Herzog and de Meuron’s new trapezoidal-shaped tower (now under construction).

  The Tour Montparnasse turned 50 this year and so people are now writing about it again. In my opinion, this recent piece in the New Yorker, by Colin Marshall, is particularly thoughtful. Here are two important points that he makes. The first has to do with the fact that kind of old usually isn’t enough when it comes to architecture. You need buildings to be really old before they get fully appreciated:

  Architectural fashion treasures hundred-and-fifty-year-old structures but derides fifty-year-old ones; hence the works of brutalism that have faced the wrecking ball in recent years. “The destruction of brutalist buildings is more than the destruction of a particular mode of architecture,” Jonathan Meades says, in his television documentary “Bunkers, Brutalism and Bloodymindedness: Concrete Poetry.” “It is like burning books. It’s a form of censorship of the past, a discomfiting past, by the present. It’s the revenge of a mediocre age on an age of epic grandeur.”

  The second point is maybe an obvious one:

  Aberrations like the Tour Montparnasse only underscore how much Paris remains Haussman’s city, its core frozen in a nineteenth century whose built environment can be restored, and in some cases discreetly renovated, but which—so the severity of the restrictions implies—can never fundamentally be improved upon.

  This is, however, a crucial point. Because it directs to why the Tour Montparnasse is so jarring to many, or perhaps most. It is jarring because it is so obviously different from its surrounding 19th century context. It is clearly not that. But as Marshall points out, one way to address this would be to simply add more 21st century context throughout the city.

  Of course, this is easier said than done. It would require a new mental model — one that accepts that the built form of Paris is not static and can be allowed to evolve. We’re not there yet. But maybe the current renovation of Tour Montparnasse, or the city’s new triangle tower, will give people a fresh set of eyes when it comes to buildings taller than 37 meters.

  Photo by Maeva Hemon on Unsplash

  2023.08.07

• The case for point access blocks

  We have spoken before about buildings, such as this 6-storey one in Paris, that were allowed to be built with only a single exit stair. This is noteworthy because, here in Canada, if you were to try and build an equivalent 6-storey building on an equivalent 100 square meter site, you would be required to have two exit stairs. And that would create more non-leasable space and make it even more challenging to develop such a small building.

  It is for this reason that single-stair buildings have been getting an increasing amount of attention as of late. They are seen as a way of encouraging more missing middle housing.

  So where are single-stair buildings currently allowed? Below is a map from Seattle-based Larch Lab showing the maximum number of storeys for point access blocks (what they call single-stair buildings) around the world. Based on this, Canada is one of the most conservative countries on the planet when it comes to required exiting (I don’t want to speak for any of the grayed-out countries). It also shows that much of the world allows 6 or more storeys.

  

  Larch Lab is a major advocate for point access blocks and they have this policy brief outlining the problem and the opportunities. One of their most interesting statistics has to do with minimum project size inflation. As recent as 2000, only about 13% of all multifamily completions in the US had more than 50 units. Today, this number has jumped to more than 55% of all new multifamily buildings, meaning we are quickly losing our ability to build small and intimate.

  Point access blocks can help with this.

  Of course, the reason we have exiting requirements in our building codes is because of life safety. But there’s research to suggest that this level of redundancy may not be needed in certain buildings. According to the above policy brief, the average death rate (caused by a building) in point access block countries like Switzerland, France, Italy and Germany, is significantly lower than that of the US. On top of this, almost no countries in the EU require buildings less than 28m tall to be sprinklered. The US does.

  All of this said, I don’t think that single-stair buildings are a silver bullet for missing middle housing. It is just one important ingredient in a complicated recipe. And as evidence of this, we can look to Seattle. The 2018 Seattle Building Code allows point access blocks up to 6 storeys, which is a rare occurrence in the US. However, the city appears to be still working on missing middle reform. Presumably other ingredients are still — missing.

  Image: Larch Lab

  2023.06.19

• Paris just banned tall buildings

  

  So, Herzog and de Meuron are building this trapezoidal-shaped tower in Paris right now.

  It’s 158m tall and about 40 storeys (which makes it comparable in height to One Delisle). It’s extremely narrow in one direction (see above), and so from central Paris it is intended to be read as a kind of thin pencil tower. But when viewed in the east-west direction, you get the full width of its trapezoidal shape (see above, again).

  Not surprisingly, this has been a highly contentious development — which is why it was 15 years in the making. It is now under construction, though, and it is expected to be completed sometime in 2026. But this is likely to be the last tower in Paris for quite some time.

  Partially because of this Triangle Tower, Paris has just decided to ban tall buildings in the city. The new height limit is now back to 37 meters (or 12 storeys), which is essentially the same height cap that was put in place in 1977 following completion of the Tour Montparnasse.

  So this is seemingly how things work in Paris. Somebody builds a tall tower. People mostly hate it. And then the city bans tall buildings for a number of decades. The previous height cap was relaxed in 2010. (Also, for those of you who are wondering, La Défense, which is generally where Paris puts its tall buildings, is outside of the city limits.)

  Regardless, I think there’s no question that this new Triangle Tower is destined to become an iconic punctuation in the city’s skyline. Which means that we’re probably going to have to update our thinking. If Paris, today, is sometimes thought of as a city with two principal towers — the Eiffel Tower and the “awful tower” — it will soon be a city with three principal towers.

  Perhaps the only question that remains is: Will people learn to love it like the Eiffel Tower or will it end up as another Tour Montparnasse?

  Image: Herzog and de Meuron

  2023.06.14

• Density is good, but let me explain

  I tweeted this out last week:

  

  Not surprisingly, the responses were divided. Some responded saying that beauty is more important than density, and a lot of people were quick to point out that there’s good density and there’s bad density. And because I can appreciate both of these comments, it made me think that I should probably elaborate on my glib tweet.

  The points I was trying to vaguely imply are the following.

  More often than not (at least for North American cities), I think our problem is not too much density, it’s too little. This translates into cities that aren’t walkable, aren’t conducive to transit, and that are overall less sustainable. Right now, every mayoral candidate in Toronto is promising to fix our crippling traffic congestion. I don’t know how they’re going to do it, but they’re promising it because they know it’s something people are pissed off about.

  But here’s my take: counterintuitively, the problem is not enough density. The problem is that too many people in our region have no reasonable way to get around without a car. So they’re forced to drive. The way you fix this not as simple as more traffic enforcement or better signal timing. Good luck! You fix it through density, because density is what makes other forms of mobility suddenly possible.

  All of this is not to say that density alone will render you a great city. Obviously things like beauty also matter a great deal. But in my opinion, density is a fundamental component. Because what good is beauty if you don’t have any urban vibrancy? The answer is that you probably don’t have a real city.

  The other point I was trying to make is that space and density are both relative and oftentimes difficult to understand. We think building height and density are correlated, but that’s not always the case. Look at Paris or Barcelona. We also like to make a lot of spatial rules that we think are right and make our cities better: streets should be at least this wide, buildings should be no taller than the width of the street, and so on.

  But here (pictured above) is a street that narrows to around 6 meters and has buildings that are probably 2.5-3x the width of the right-of-way. Sure, it also happens to be beautiful, historic, and Italian. But what would happen if you maintained this same beauty and made the street 5x as wide and lined up parking in front of the stores?

  Somehow it wouldn’t be as enjoyable as what you see here.

  2023.05.29

• I love narrow streets

  

  

  If you’re a regular reader of this blog, you’ll know that I’m a fan of narrow streets. It’s one of the reasons I have been such a supporter of laneway housing here in Toronto, and why I think they should ultimately allow for some non-residential uses.

  If you have narrow streets and reasonably decent buildings that frame them, you have a base condition that has worked remarkably well since the creation of cities. Almost by default, and even if you don’t have proper sidewalks, it is going to feel pedestrian-oriented.

  The challenge, however, is that it’s usually difficult to create these after the fact. Street networks are powerfully sticky; they generally don’t change unless you have someone like Haussmann rebuilding your city. So if you have these in your city, try and take advantage of them. You’re fortunate to have them.

  The above two photos/measurements are from Milan. Both streets are around 20 feet wide (or 6 meters), which happens to be the required width of a standard two-way drive aisle here in Toronto. It’s a good example of how differently cities can view and allocate space.

  You can do a lot with 6 meters.

  2023.05.28

• Which is more “sustainable”?

  These two residential buildings:

  

  Or this one here?

  

  Both are located in the Porto Nuova district of Milan.

  And from what I could tell when I walked by them yesterday, they’re pretty comparable. They have similarly deep balconies. And they even appear to have the exact same exterior cladding.

  Of course, the big difference is that the former — the celebrated Bosco Verticale — has about 800 trees, 4,500 shrubs, and 15,000 plants sitting on its 3.3m cantilevered balcony slabs. It also has an elaborate irrigation system that services said greenery.

  Okay, so which is more “sustainable”?

  First impressions would suggest that it’s the former. Trees and green things are good for the environment. So putting trees on a tall residential building must also be good, right? Maybe.

  The main counterargument is that it requires a lot of additional work to get trees, shrubs, and plants onto a tall building. You need more concrete, more structural reinforcing, an irrigation system (maybe not always?), and a way to maintain everything going forward.

  In this case, all of the greenery is a common element, and so it’s maintained by the building and not by any of the individual residents. Among other things, this preserves a uniform aesthetic.

  But all of these additional materials increase the building’s embodied carbon. And so there’s an important question to consider: Do the benefits of putting trees up in the sky outweigh the impacts of actually doing it?

  This is one of the great debates surrounding this project, and it’s a good reminder that being more sustainable isn’t so simple. There’s a lot to balance, and there are countless details to figure out.

  However, innovation does require iteration. And already there are new iterations of the Bosco Verticale, such as this one in Paris, that plan to swap concrete for mass timber construction.

  So even more trees in the sky. That’s probably a good thing.

  2023.05.24

• Fashion and design capital of the world!

  

  The first and only other time that I have visited Milan was over 20 years ago. I was 19 or so, and a close friend and I decided to take the train into Centrale without a place to stay and without a plan, other than to get into some trouble.

  We ultimately succeeded at this ambitious plan. But I clearly didn’t see enough of the city, and I left thinking that it was a bit of a grimy and sleepy place. I was disappointed. I thought it would be fashion everywhere, and it wasn’t for me. And this impression has lingered with me ever since.

  Boy have I been missing out.

  I have fallen in love with Milan on this very short trip. It really is a capital of fashion and design. This is not a city of meandering tourists looking for the Pantheon (okay, there’s still some of that); it is a big city of business and culture. And if I had to compare and contrast it to other cities, I would say this.

  Its built form is not nearly as manicured and as fussy as Paris’. In fact, in some ways, it’s a bit like Toronto. Its overall urbanism is messier, and you have to scratch beneath the surface and sneak into some courtyards before you really uncover its true beauty. But once you do, it’s magical.

  At the same time, its street fashion strikes me as being slightly fussier. There is an effortlessness in Paris that doesn’t seem as pronounced in Milan (though it is still there). Here, there’s a little more flash and a little more, “I’m sexy and stylish, and I would like you to be aware of that.”

  But this is not to say that you won’t see men and women in suits and stilettos riding a bicycle. It still feels effortless. It still feels natural. And when you’re here, you can’t help but feel like you’re probably not stylish enough for this capital of fashion and design.

  2023.05.23

• Everything looks in place here

  

  I was in the mood for some light reading before bed earlier this week, and so I pulled out this comparative critique of Euclidean zoning. Many of you are probably familiar with how single-use zoning works. It is the dominant form of zoning in North America and it is predicated on the idea of “everything in its place.” Meaning, land uses are best off when they are segregated and put into distinct zones: commercial here, industrial over there, residential in these areas, and so on.

  But there are a whole host of arguments for why this is bad cities. Among other things, it makes them less sustainable, because typically you need to drive between zones when you want to do things. It makes them less resilient, because you’ve now created monocultures. And it also encourages segregation, because if this zone is only for 2-acre single-family lots, then only people who can afford a 2-acre lot get to live there.

  I’m sure that many of you are already aware of these arguments. So what I found most interesting from this light bedtime reading was the comparison to the French model of urbanism. One of the key differences in cities such as Paris is that the French have historically preferred to zone for structures over uses. In other words, aesthetics and how buildings look have long been a priority, but what happens inside of them has been less of one.

  The result is an incredible mix of uses that makes the city what it is today. And this is perhaps the great irony of Paris. Its visual harmony might make you believe that “everything is in its place.” But really things are often all over the place — as they should be in a city. Adding to this irony is the fact that many single-use cities do not actually appear very orderly, even though they’re kind of supposed to by design.

  I thought this was an interesting way of looking at these two different models of urbanism. It makes the case that not everything needs to be in its place; maybe it just needs to look that way and the rest will figure itself out.

  2023.05.03