Responding To Context
Customized Versus Standardized Solutions
The best professional practice recognizes the value of both standardized as well as customized solutions. Often, however, planners adopt these two approaches for the wrong reasons or use them in the wrong way. Customized solutions, for example, may be the best approach, but customization may seem too difficult, expensive or controversial. At the same time planners might customize a solution because such action creates the illusion of an in-depth, more responsive solution even though the customized response is superficial, neither helpful or harmful, but politically popular.
Planning for each context needs to be evaluated independently. Given the enormous variety in different places and conditions, and given the likelihood that the need for planning services occurs in the most problematic situations, the starting assumption should be that customized outcomes will prove more effective. While the outcomes may require customization, the process (not the product) of customization can be routinized to make it less costly. The reverse approach — in which the product is standardized although it emerges from different procedures in different organizational units — is less likely to work for the highly uncertain and ill-defined problems encountered in critical planning practice.
Aerial of lower Manhattan 1983 with varied context on a block-by-block basis. A notable anomaly is Stuyvesant Town with approximately 8,000 apartments in 80 buildings (the author’s “neighborhood”). The photographs above and below depict a comfortable internal landscape amidst ordinary, single use, mid-rise buildings. Manhattan, 1983.
These photographs (below) of Gramercy Park, New York City, show a unique context, with high visual and design quality. This neighborhood is about 1/4 mile from Stuyvesant Town (above) but contains a more coherent pattern with a more varied social and economic population and greater diversity of uses. New York City, 1970s and 1980s.
Customization, however, is not used typically by large organizations that operate through the use of standardized solutions applied routinely regardless of context. At times, routinization works effectively, especially when key features of the context are repetitious and similar to prior problem settings. Many people have heard Henry Ford’s comment about customizing the color of cars: “Any customer can have a car painted any color that he wants, so long as it is black.” Today, of course, your preferred color is one of the first questions you will hear at the car dealer; that is, the process of asking the question is routine and the outcome is customized.
Presumably, the intentional reuse of standardized solutions accomplishes managerial goals and simplifies administration. A major historical planning example is the Law of the Indies, which applied standardized community footprints throughout the western hemisphere as part of Spanish colonization. Roman military encampments provide another classic historical example of standardized solutions. Today we can see the long-term impact of the four quarter Roman military bases throughout Europe. In more contemporary settings, the remnant forms of shopping malls and big boxes may shape the evolution of the land on which they were first imprinted.
In most contemporary settings planners should evaluate the context in terms of (a) what existing forms appear to be customized within the existing context and (b) what existing forms appear to be copied as standardized forms from other places that were transferred to the existing context without customization. In the same way that “custom” tailoring of clothing requires measurement of the human body, due diligence for the creation of places should begin with customized measurements.
“One-size-fits-all” and “off-the-rack” plans rarely work effectively. Although “off-the-rack” items cost less — even in planning — lack of customization usually leads to failures, especially because solutions do not fit their context. Before you start cutting the urban fabric you have to know what type of community you are fitting. Moreover, you have to know about all the community’s parts, how the community moves, what it does, its history, and its plans for the future.
The Middle Ground — Patterns And Typologies
The middle ground, between standardization and customization, includes examination of types and patterns. Many theories of urban design and urban planning offer categorizations of the types of places found in communities. These theories suggest that planners look at each place to see if the types of places found elsewhere may be adapted effectively into a new context. This method is a form of middle ground that requires talented balance:
Standardized solutions are not copied “as is”
Customization of forms does not start with a blank slate but with prior patterns and typologies likely to fit
Many authors engage in empirical investigation of historical patterns and forms that can be applied as “typologies.” Typologies are standardized ways to organize forms, but they are based on empirical evidence and cultural history, not the predilections of one designer or organization. A few examples of this approach include Camillo Sitte’s City Planning According to Artistic Principles, Christopher Alexander’s A Pattern Language, and Michael Dennis’ Court and Garden. While these three authors have different intellectual positions, they all depict specific patterns of form along with the principles embodied by the forms. Perhaps one of the most useful examples are the “types” of good streets, many of which were first built long-before the advent of cars. Different types of streets — repeatable patterns of solutions — still work as a reasonable “type” to be reused over time. Allan Jacobs’ Great Streets contains the collection of solutions I find the most useful and insightful.
In almost every case proposed typological solutions need to be fitted into their context — it is not a routine. This is the point in the problem solving process where standardization of typologies weaves into customization of forms. By definition, typological solutions come from multiple historical contexts and can be interpreted and adapted to new contexts. A good example includes many of the colonial streets and rowhouses in Washington D.C. These streets first took place long before the advent of automobiles but work well today as the essential structure of high value neighborhoods.
Typological solutions are based on customs — cultural solutions that have been tested and proven over time. While not all customs should be continued — especially those which we find unjust, unfair, or unethical — customary types of good places are the best starting point for planners.
Customary solutions do not preclude creativity. It is no accident the “customary” and “customization” have a similar linguistic root. In many planning projects the call for “innovation” is expressed and promoted as the antithesis of traditions and customs. In practice, however, innovation and tradition are neither opposites nor mutually exclusive. Innovation and tradition fuel each other and represent the effective, pragmatic middle-ground for improving the land and its places. Sometimes trends and novelty are mistaken for true innovation. The best way to achieve a balance of innovation and tradition is through customization by design.
Vancouver developed guidelines to create townhomes which follow traditional typologies of rowhouse forms and, at the same time, create distinctive customized styles and street facades for the downtown. Vancouver, 2000s.
Customized Places Versus Land Use
Customization of built and natural environments can, however, be confused the customization of land use labels (such as “low density residential”). A land use label does not provide customization of environments. Land use labels like “low density residential” are a selective economic category that should not be mistaken for a type of place, such as a customized residential neighborhood. The phrase “land use” is a misnomer since it usually does not describe actual uses but rather the economic categories first derived from the Standard Industrial Code (SIC) whose origin has been forgotten by most planners.
Conversely, two neighborhoods with the same land use labels do not imply compatibility. A land use label like “single family residential” may be applied to two neighborhoods as a “land use” but the two neighborhoods are wholly incompatible — neither may be customized to fit the other. The same is true for land labeled “multifamily” or “mixed use” or “environmental corridor.” Similar language implies that uses fit together because both have the exact same land use name. In practice, they may both lack the type of customization of forms that would make them compatible (such as streets, yards, heights, landscaping, gathering places, visual hierarchy, mixed-use, history, coherence, etc.).
In order to promote customization, we need to label our maps as types of places — not economic entities. Do we live in “single family use” or do we live in a neighborhood? Do we shop in “highway large format retail” or at a grocery store? The geography of economic categories may be interesting and useful, but as types of places they are, at best, useless, and at worst, misleading. Place-based maps, as opposed to land use maps, tell us more about our communities and reflect a balance of standardized and customized forms and places.
The facades of lower Manhattan show a rich texture within a coherent grid pattern of streets and blocks. Manhattan, 1970s.
Giving The Context A Name
No one lives in “land use,” no one lives in “context.” The context is a place that also has a name. In planning practice, the context becomes understandable when we use common language to describe it. In this regard Alexander’s A Pattern Language is especially helpful with names like “small public square”, “beer garden” or “bike rack.” Lynch’s five named place types in Image of the City (Path, Edge, Node, District, Landmark) resonate with many public audiences (although “node” seems a bit too academic). Jane Jacob’s phrases such as “border vacuum” also work well with many audiences.
When planners show a map of the existing land use, they change everyone’s perception of the land, often in ways that are harmful rather than helpful. A classic example of this can be found in the overused generic phrase “mixed-use.” Every day, every parcel of land is filled with a mixture of uses. Does this mean all cities should be mapped into lines with “mixed-use” and “unmixed-use”? Similarly, we have the use of the fought-over phrase “affordable housing,” as if the rest of the city might be labeled “unaffordable housing.”
Instead of oversimplifying maps of the context with outmoded “land uses” we need to show how it contains a broad array of different activities and places distributed across our built and natural environments. If the maps of the context surrounding proposed plans are grossly oversimplified into narrow but over-generalized categories, then problems remain ill-defined, and the solutions become harder to find. Instead, when a planner speaks on behalf of the land and its places, the maps need to be insightful and helpful — the best way to do this is to describe the context of recommendations with simple terms that capture complex conditions (as opposed to overly abstract terms that obscure complex conditions).
Imagine a land use map in which planners were not allowed to use overly generalized names like “housing” and “commercial” (or any of their numerous synonyms). Imagine, instead, a map that depicted a series of overlapping descriptions that used terms such as: old working class neighborhood; 1950s style suburban ranch houses; historic warehouses; wealthy horse farm area; expanding new businesses; destination tourist area. These are, in fact, designations that can be used by planners as a measure of past conditions, future action or both. Names that evoke the actual history of places and local traditions can be especially meaningful (as opposed to names selected to portray some political agenda).
This act of naming areas represents a meaningful – albeit subjective – process for measuring the context. Effective naming of areas is far less quantitative than the use of detailed property values, precise topography, and demographic breakdowns. This use of more meaningful names, however, provides a deeper understanding of the land and its places. Once effective names are “placed,” the question of what to measure becomes easier. For agricultural areas, conditions that impact cultivation may become an evident metric. For destination tourism, demographic and economic factors become more evident as needed measurements.
Using language to effectively name the context of a planning project requires the application of skill, talent, and experience. If planners wish to borrow the naming conventions used in a comparable plan, at the very least each name should be evaluated to see if it reflects the local context in a meaningful way or if it is just a shortcut that reflects a lack of thoughtfulness. Naming the context in a meaningful way will never substitute for the necessary act of measuring the land in a survey or measuring other detailed physical attributes of the natural environment. For planners, however, we need to go far beyond the physical dimensions of the land to measure its history, culture, and potential.
In my youth I recall when Sixth Avenue was renamed Avenue of the Americas in midtown Manhattan — it is still Sixth Avenue. Names must be accepted, not just given.
Naming the context — “Greenwich Village” — captures the form, culture, and character of the place. New York City, 1970s and 1980s.
Levels Of Context — Below, On, And Above The Surface
The context shown on a two-dimensional map contains information that represents three-dimensional factors. The most obvious example can be seen in topographic maps that depict the contours of land elevations. Trained planners can look at such maps and easily discern the slopes, hills, and valleys. The three-dimensional aspect of the land is also revealed when a map depicts vegetation and buildings that clearly have a vertical dimension. Maps also depict the subterranean conditions of utilities and physical systems without which our communities cannot survive.
For planners, however, representation of the third dimension of the land should take on a much deeper meaning. The height of a building or a tree represents the physical variation of the third dimension, but other types of variations that become evident in a three dimensional view are also relevant, especially those that reveal patterns on the land related to cultural, social, economic, political, and experiential variables.
For example, the levels of a building often reveal very different characteristics. Are the building basements used for storage or parking? Does the ground floor contain commercial or semi-public activities? Is the upper floor residential? Does something special happen at the top or roof level? A downtown district could be mapped according to the plan of activities on the ground floor. Most planners are familiar with Nolli’s map of Rome which depicted the exterior form of buildings and, when appropriate, the interior form of buildings which served a broader purpose such as the interior form of civic buildings, churches, or villas. On the exterior, outside the buildings, an entire system of physical infrastructure that transcends the surface needs to be understood and visualized. Infrastructure conditions often determine the potential for growth, change, and redevelopment.
It might be instructive to see, for example, the form of street level places that allow public access and at what times and days that access exists — weekdays, business hours, weekends, evenings, etc. Peak parking demand, for example, has changed in many retail areas from daytime (shopping for goods) to evenings and weekends (for restaurants and entertainment). This type of contextual mapping would quickly reveal patterns of entertainment districts, multi-use districts, and other features. Knowing that something is “commercial” tells us very little about the experiential qualities of a district. A commercial cold storage facility would hardly help activate a pedestrian street (even though it might look “pedestrian friendly” on the measured map).
Relevant knowledge would include street level building interiors open to the public. Such access encourages pedestrian (depending on hours of operation). Some interiors include uses appealing to multiple age groups or intergenerational activities. Imagine a map that would show these variables: the population of people on a street; building entries that were publicly accessible; the total square footage of accessible public interiors; the number of occupied publicly accessible parking spaces within walking distance. All variables are knowable — it just requires measurement (and the resources to gather the information).
Some of these variables can be mapped easily with the use of contemporary geographic information systems. Other variables require field measurements, such as the area along a street which is accessible to the general public. Street level maps would also depict the number of public street level entrances (like the drawings in Allan Jacobs’ Great Streets). Many planners would find that information far more useful than some of the retail use classifications. Most importantly, however, these maps will never exist unless planners proactively define, request, create, and use these maps in meaningful ways.
A photograph of the east edge of Manhattan near 34th Street (1980s) reveals multiple layers of development over time. This history reveals the evolution of the context. It might be considered analogous to the way geologists view a slice through the multiple strata of the earth’s surface.
Beyond street level, the distinctions in form and uses for different levels of a building have had a major significance. Historically, before the use of elevators, the second floor that could be reached easily on foot had a higher value (perhaps the “piano nobile”) while the upper levels (attics for servants and students) were less valuable. The top floor could be called “affordable” housing. Today, with elevators, this situation has reversed with penthouses representing housing for the wealthiest occupants and second floor units costing less (but usually not considered affordable).
There are many examples of how different uses within taller built forms correspond to different experiences at street level. Do any land use maps depict at the degree of housing value diversity within the same building? The principle, that value varies in terms of the three dimensional location of a use still exists. The corner office and penthouse are contemporary examples. All of these can be mapped, and all represent aspects of the three-dimensional form of the context. It would also be useful to map the “figure-ground” of a city at different building heights, especially over time. The form and pattern of high-rise buildings and skyscrapers clearly shows patterns of form that are central to understanding the land, its context, and places.
Place-based, Multi-attribute Mapping
One of the most commonly used drawings by urban designers seeking to understand the pattern of urban form is the figure-round map. Typically, this is defined as showing all built forms (buildings) as black and everything around them as white. It is something like a primitive x-ray of the bone structure of the city. For well-practiced planners and designers, it provides an excellent quick snapshot that tells the story of how a community grew and how it is structured. A similar form of urban x-ray is the street and block diagram which shows the structure of the softer tissue that makes the city work — the circulation patterns and systems of private property development.
Historically, Nolli’s map of Rome is described as a figure-ground map. Many cities have GIS systems that can create the simple pattern of solids and voids which offers many insights into the character of a community. Nolli’s map however, had an added set of dimension regarding the nature of public places (both interior and exterior) which simply cannot be generated by a GIS system without direct knowledge of each place.
Other types of maps that could be readily available, substantially different, and desperately needed to show the patterns that our cities contain. These are patterns which, if we understand them, can reveal major flaws as well as opportunities:
The mixture of three or four major uses in a building using graphic techniques that correspond to the location or form of the uses
Separating, on one map, the uses of built form, the uses of circulation, used open space and vacant underused open space
Parks (both public and private) and the types of uses they contain such as: active garden and landscapes that are fully open; programmatically restricted areas (like sports fields or performance areas)
Layers of public, semipublic, semiprivate and private places, not on the basis of ownership, but on the basis of their “look and feel”
Publicly accessible areas inside buildings such as: the front of a café, bar, or restaurant; the lobby of a hotel or civic building; an institutional structure with broad access such as a city hall or health center
Mapping the tops of buildings that represent the skyline of cities (similar to the idea of the “built form” topography)
Daytime versus nighttime populations (that is mapping the density in terms of the number of people per square foot of built form during the day and at night).
A more complex example is the demographic issue of daytime versus nighttime populations. This still plagues the analysis of urban areas. While the mapping of nighttime population – bedrooms – is needed for political purposes like voting, and taxes, planners really need the daytime population numbers. More importantly planners need to know the shifts and patterns of daytime versus nighttime population. A map depicting a retail street with a strong daytime population will show a very different potential than one with a strong nighttime population versus a street with both.
For planners, mapping the simple use of an area is not sufficient. Both built forms and natural environments should not be mapped as places devoid of humans, but as social and cultural places filled with people. Just understanding the underlying number of property owners, lot sizes and the demographics that we typically examine does little to tell us about the culture and social patterns of the land.
Topic summary
Customized versus standardized solutions
The middle ground — repetition, patterns and typologies
Customized places versus land use
Giving the context a name
Levels of context — below, on, and above the surface
Place-based, multi-attribute mapping