The Context Of Forms And Places
Respect The Context Of Places
Before imposing ideas on the land planners should first listen to and respect the context on the land. Planners may not like the context, but before they “fix” it they should see if it is really “broken.” The physical form of the land changes constantly. Some aspect of the form is always moving, increasing, or decreasing — sometimes the context changes minute-by-minute and sometimes over centuries. Parts of the land seem relatively stable and more permanent, such as natural features like forests or shorelines, as well as built features such as streets and major buildings. Yet these features also have components that change with the hour, time of day, season, and decade.
The critical aspects of the context that need to be understood include both the forest and the trees, the neighborhoods and the buildings, the streets and the crosswalks, the underlying ideas and the critical details. The context includes both the abstract sum of the features as well as the more concrete components. Plans that will change both large scale and small scale features need to be understood within their context. In every plan, we find features that need to be modified, diminished, or replaced. This includes features that harm or help the economic, environmental, and social systems of our communities. Different opinions always arise as to which features of the context should remain, which should go, and which should stay the same.
When opinions arise regarding the natural environment, they rarely lead to suggestions that the entire natural environment be replaced. Usually, ecological analyses of natural systems lead to suggestions for remediation, mitigation, land management, and so forth. Ecologists often discuss a natural environment as an interconnected system – perhaps an open system – in which many parts are in a process of dynamic change which, if not recognized and respected, can produce catastrophic, harmful changes.
Not all large scale change is 100% negative. Even a forest fire might not be considered a cataclysmic change but a dramatic, naturally occurring ecological event which must be managed in order to maintain the larger long-term stability of the forest and the land. After a natural environmental catastrophe, we do not destroy all the remaining natural features. Rather we use concepts like remediation, mitigation, and incremental renewal. Existing elements often remain, regain their strength and grow back incrementally.
Human ecologists concerned with the cultural and socioeconomic system of a community have often espoused a similar viewpoint. In such cases, community change occurs in a moderated, incremental process and, on occasion there are major changes which allow for broader renewal of the community. When the neighborhood (like a forest) experiences dramatic changes (like a fire or economic upheaval), we should not suggest that the whole neighborhood and its socioeconomic system be demolished and replaced.
Unfortunately, when the debates over change move from the natural to the built environment, the renewal efforts for built environments are judged in a dramatically different ways. Renewal recommendations often suggest we replace all the individual people and activities (planners call it “relocation”). Naomi Klein’s book Shock Doctrine actually describes urban renewal in this way. Planners use the excuse that the community needs dramatic and complete change. For centuries this ideology has equated to blaming the victim — blaming the neighborhood for the external forces which have harmed that neighborhood or the larger city.
In low income neighborhoods the residents do not usually have sufficient political authority to stop the damage. Proposals for large scale “renewal” in wealthier areas generate much stronger political pushback. Even if a wealthy neighborhood meets the legal definition of “blight,” demolition rarely occurs for political reasons. In most cases, with less politically strong neighborhoods, some demolition will occur. These neighborhoods may already be weakened economically through no fault of their own. In these situations, acts of demolition under the guise of “renewal” create a strong sense of social insecurity that disrupts, and further weakens potentially stable social and economic patterns.
Can we prevent a resurgence of this planned destruction? Baltimore, 1968.
This planned destruction of a community was not the result of a flood, earthquake, hurricane or fire. Camden, 1968.
Planners can avoid abusive practices by beginning the analysis of the land with a targeted and relevant evaluation of the context. This evaluation should apply a simple principle — stabilize, preserve and supplement the components of the built and natural environments that created the community. This means that changes and improvements should fit into the context carefully and incrementally — change is balanced and integrated.
Maintaining the existing patterns of form helps stabilize the important functions of a neighborhood or district. Preserving the form, in turn, preserves many of the systemic interrelationships that allow communities to function successfully. The notion that we can preserve the functions without the form is an illusion that often conveniently supports the type of destabilizing change that leads to community destruction.
When the land speaks to us after a natural disaster, we often see new growth almost immediately. Comparatively, when we tear down or replace large portions of a community, we do not see new life, especially when we replace whole neighborhoods or districts. We may demolish a district in the name of renewal, which adds a mean-spirited insult to a profound social injustice. Instead of large scale demolition we should consider a renewal process where small places (homes and businesses) remain. This approach might produce genuine renewal even if it takes a longer period. Slower, incremental change might also save some of the key cultural institutions and organizations that bind the human forest together such as schools, historic structures, and local landmarks.
The point is that the ecology of our communities is fragile and accommodating renewal is not simple. Just as climate disasters are not simple and require an enormous level of careful reconstruction, so too does the management of urban form. Which places do we want to change? Which do we want to preserve? Do we know the difference? As climate change worsens, and more disasters occur, it will become increasingly important to forgo widespread community upheaval and embrace context-based, well-managed, incremental change.
The Glasgow School of Art not only demonstrates the talent of Charles Rennie Mackintosh, but also a detailed exemplar of fitting large scale creative forms into the built and natural context. Glasgow, 1967.
Maintain Authentic Forms, Not Styles
When we engage in replacing portions of a community, the urban form of places may be confused with the architectural style of those forms. Planners may present a nicely rendered image of new buildings or parks and the community audience sees an attractive style. The underlying form of the new buildings or parks, however, may not be self-evident. More importantly, the underlying form may not be a desirable change within the existing context.
Townhouses, for example, can have many different styles but almost always have the same basic form of a historic rowhouse. The architectural style of rowhouses can vary in height, facade, materials, landscaping, economic value, physical condition, and so forth — but the form remains relatively constant.
The “main street” in Disneyland has the style of a main street facade, but not the form of individual lots with separately platted main street buildings (just look at an aerial). Disneyland contains no independent stores or residences surrounding their main street – just a theme park which had the stylistic appearance of a main street. Disneyland is an authentic theme park just not an authentic city. It entertains millions of people each year and, as such, has a well-deserved place in our cultural history. The problem occurs when, upon visiting theme parks, we believe that the visual appearance can be transferred to the forms in our communities. Time and again, this does not work.
The question of authenticity of form becomes most complex when we look at the history of architectural styles in our communities. The concept of a “false” front or “fake” materials is part of an American tradition. George Washington (as a developer) built his historic home — Mount Vernon — with siding made from wood cut to look like stone. Does that make it “fake” or “real fake”? In today’s world of online meetings, we select “backgrounds” that do not reflect the place in which we are physically located but rather reflect another place in which we would like to be seen.
Architects have always employed the use of materials and visual illusions (including so-called “fakes”). From a planning perspective these issues concern the style or “fashion” of a design, but not the form of the place. Washington’s use of materials may not be tasteful or appealing. Regardless of his aesthetic choices, however, the form of Mount Vernon remains that of a mansion and plantation with all of its moral, political, and social implications. Disney’s main street has the form of a theme park, not the form of a functioning neighborhood or small town main street. Such historical illusions make it harder for planners to focus on the underlying form of the community. Misleading visual illusions may be entertaining, but they should not encourage communities to re-create illusions which do not have corresponding forms that fit the context of the land.
Another way of stating the dilemma is that the creation of an architectural element that “pretends” to be something different is a traditional aspect of architecture but not planning. The word “facade” sometimes means a “face” intended to conceal a different reality. There are places where the overt use of borrowed forms and styles is considered meaningful: the funhouse, amusement park, the garden ha-ha, architectural follies, and even the theme park are obvious examples. In fact, the tradition of follies dates back centuries. The use of facades, fake or real, does not necessarily change the essential form of the components that make places. If we intend a park to be entertaining, we may employ follies or false facades, but the park, as a place, is not false — the park is still an authentic place in the community.
The issue of authenticity occurs in many contexts. In recent decades we have seen new “town centers” developed in suburban areas. Some of these have merely the appearance of an urban lifestyle while others seem genuine. It is hard to tell them apart. One test which might be considered is whether or not the forms of a suburban “center” can survive economic downturns or even failures.
Stores on real main streets and authentic town centers (new or old) can recover from failure and the overall place remains intact. The stores can be demolished and rebuilt but the “place” remains. Inauthentic forms, however, like some recent shopping malls, are unlikely to survive. Main streets, where small buildings can be renewed incrementally, offer a much greater chance of resilience.
After several millennia the forms of old Jerusalem must be considered authentic, as well as the narrow retail streets, protected from harsh sun, and facilitated by multilevel display of goods. Jerusalem, 1976.
Authentic theme park and tourist attraction, but inauthentic city. Disneyworld, 2004.
Authentic city, place of pilgrimage and tourism, but inauthentic theme park. Mont Saint-Michelle, 1994.
Measure The Context Of Form
Can you imagine a place that has no form? It seems impossible to imagine a change in the built or natural environment without imaging where it “takes place.” When a planning process begins, planners and designers may have an immediate “pop up” image in their mind about possible outcomes. This first image often occurs before any formal analysis or problem-solving process begins. Should planners suppress such images as premature or irrelevant? Or should planners acknowledge initial images as legitimate ideas to be exposed rather than become a subconscious bias? The first “places” we see in our mind should demand attention at the outset of the planning process. The first places we envision rarely become the best solutions but those first images, however, are good starting points for effective problem solving.
Rather than suppress our first images of how an action might “take place,” we should think of that place in context, evaluate that context carefully, and then revise (or abandon) the idea of that first image as needed. Do our self-consciously initial images fit into the context? Answering this essential first question requires measurement of the context — quantitative or qualitative, transactional or transformative, abstract or concrete, specific or generalized. Typically, we change our view, create a new image with a revised place or form, and continue the reiterative process until problem-solving activity is terminated. Planners and urban designers should emphasize this reiterative process of imagining concepts and testing them within the context. Testing concepts requires that we measure and evaluate the context in terms of concrete details as well as ideas.
The technical measurements that can be observed go far beyond quantitative units to include visual knowledge. Most significant, from my view, is the inclusion of photographs (street photographs, aerials, and birds-eye views). Photographs do not substitute for maps — they supply an equally necessary type of knowledge about a place. When I started teaching I would, on occasion, use photographs of the Bath Crescent in my lectures on urban design. The pictures available to me include one rather poor photograph of the rear of this classic example of urban planning. One day, while searching for better imagery, I chose to use web-based mapping and found a birds-eye view of the rear yards. This picture is included in my lectures and now represents another idea that I can communicate. In other words, the ability to measure the technical context keeps increasing, not only in terms of physical data but also in terms of the observation of more complex and valuable ideas.
Public context, front of the Crescent. Bath, 1994.
Private context, back of the Crescent, Bath. Image from Google Earth, 2017.
Measure To Make A Difference
Given the expanding universe of technical measurements, the choice of what to measure — both qualitative and quantitative, both the idea and the details — becomes ever more important. In turn, the criteria planners use to decide what and how to measure becomes more critical. Using standardized practices for measurement provides credibility to the process of measurement (that is, we measure the same way each time). Unfortunately, the use of standardize rules for the collecting data can be harmful by giving plans a gloss of rationality laid on top of an increasingly complex pattern of conditions on the land.
The easiest context to document is almost always the technical, quantifiable context. This technical context includes the physical measurements of building footprints, property lines, street facades, plant species, topography, flood plains, soil conditions, patterns of rainfall and wind speeds. Many (but not all) such measurements may be necessary within the problem solving process but not always at the beginning. Many items of data may be irrelevant and the costs of acquiring the information takes resources (time and money) away from finding other more relevant knowledge. The amount of detail and the number of topics seems endless.
Planners need to assess which measurements are most likely to “make a difference” in the plan. What knowledge is needed? When is it needed? Who can find it? What does it cost? How long will it take? Getting the right knowledge at the right time requires experience and talent. Some information gathering tasks should follow standard procedures, if and when they seem worthwhile. In most complex, ill-defined planning problems, however, there is no routine answer to the questions: “What should be measured? Where? When? How?”
The potential interpretation of the data becomes the essential issue when deciding on resources for measuring the technical context. Different data are necessary at different times within the larger process of planning, approving, and Implementing solutions. Local governments often collect data for public administration and service provision. For planners, however, collecting data that is not relevant specifically to planning and urban design can waste valuable resources. Planners must allocate scarce resources, especially their time, to find the data that will be most helpful for planning as opposed to non-planning tasks.
Allocating information gathering resources effectively requires planners to exercise their expertise and experience. This subjective decision-making process should begin before resources are allocated. That is, planners and technical experts should not presuppose the relevance of data without a detailed discussion of why the data might be important. Imagine a site on which someone wants to build a house. What should a planner measure? The topography, the views, the soil, the neighbor’s criminal record, the lot lines, local voting patterns, the real estate market, the builder’s reputation, the wind patterns, the sunlight, estimated future rainfall, the history, the regulations, past titles? Some might say all of the above — but not if, at the end of the information gathering process, you were left with insufficient funds to build the house or you had waited too long, and the property was sold to someone else.
Not all information helps. If we spend too much time and money collecting information, we have no resources left to find solutions. There must be a simultaneous balance between finding solutions and acquiring relevant information. Collecting relevant data requires talent, not infinite resources.
In San Francisco the strong grid was modified vertically producing an appealing diversity within a strict order. San Francisco, 2012.
Use Geometry With Modified Grids
In practice, time, talent, and resources always limit investigation of site and context. Planners must make a choice regarding information to be gathered based on some criteria. Too often the choice is made by copying the last process: “… this is what we measured the last five times we prepared a downtown plan so that is what we should measure now…” Sometimes the choice of what to measure is based on a new law or a new measuring device. For example, global positioning tools allow us to measure tree locations on a site with far fewer resources than in the past. Planners can gather more and more information but not necessarily the wisdom to use it effectively.
For planners, the most critical and useful information concerns the physical form of the city and its relationship to social, economic, and environmental conditions. Planners or urban designers should measure the physical form and establish how that form is related to socio-economic and environmental conditions. The reverse process also should occur when planners find data from social or natural sciences, and then related that data to the physical form. Both must be mapped, and the interrelationships analyzed.
The map of the physical forms should be based on places — streets, blocks, and parcels. Most often, streets, blocks and parcels were first organized using different types of grids (a practice that goes back thousands of years). Not all grids are the same. They vary in the spacing and alignment of intersections, length and width of cells, variable corner angles, cell juxtapositions, geometric rigidity or flexibility, and so on. Usually improved cities, vibrant places, and effective responses to land and site, come about when community decision makers modify grids (or other coherent geometries) to fit the local context. Moreover, when the grids are analyzed along with social and natural conditions, the evolution of the physical patterns become easier to understand.
The evolution of the American grid has given us the “back” forty, the section lines that became rights-of-way and arterials, and rural views of rolling hills beneath the straight roads. The Jeffersonian grid system is now tied to the land with great precision. Surveys make sure we know precisely the location of every line. Older surveys used pipes and markers on the land. Today we have a national system of markers to help us make the abstract lines as precise as we can – down to tiny fractions of an inch. We take these systems of abstract lines for granted and rarely question them, but they have determined the form of the land for more than two centuries — creating both positive and negative circumstances in the communities they have regulated.
We also have gridded cities that were created prior to Jefferson’s grid, such as midwestern communities planned by other colonizers — the Dutch layout for Manhattan, the French plans for early waterfronts in the Midwest. John Reps’ published collection of maps and his books, especially The Making of Urban America, show an amazing richness to the historical patterns and evolution of the geometric forms of our urban context. Spiro Kostof’s book, The City Shaped, provides a more specific overview of different grid systems (as well as less prevalent non-gridded approaches to urban geometries).
Modified grids are also found in agriculture, not just in the United States but around the world. Grid-like patterns of farming are commonplace, and they all become modified in responses to conditions of the natural environment, economic shifts in the business of agriculture, local regulations, and technologies of farming. Numerous places on the fringe of urban areas show how agricultural girds and urban grids are intertwined. Interestingly, in these cases, the use of modified grids also seems to be an effective planning tool.
As might be expected there is no “one-grid-fits-all.” In most cases the key, once again, is customization. When grids are modified they become exceptionally powerful because they actually link places and land together. These modified grids also might be called moderated, customized, tailored or balanced grids — just not pure or ideal grids. Modified grids portray a pattern of carefully tailored intersections in a coherent, responsive pattern. Modified grids do not, however, adopt the idealizations of Jefferson or some architects of the modern era (like Corbusier and Wright).
Well-designed grids create a language of places on our maps that is simultaneously varied but still retains a coherent large scale geometry. Large scale grids can be tailored easily to smaller scale geometries of villages and neighborhoods, as well as respond to the combined natural and built environments. Modified grids have a distinctly different pattern than organic or purely curvilinear patterns. That is, modified grids are still perceived as having an orthogonal order, but have clear, infrequent, and well placed non-orthogonal components. The non-orthogonal elements create great visual diversity but still comport with an overall coherence. Sometimes, with modified grids, the non-orthogonal lines vary by only a few degrees from a rigid grid. Modified grids have huge advantage over other systems because they can embody two principles, which become mutually reinforcing:
Modified grids can respond to critical variations in natural and historic features
Modified grids reinforce a larger geographic order that is easy for inhabitants to learn, remember and utilize effectively
Child playing in castle. Near Glasgow, 1967.
Topic summary
Respect the context of places
Maintain authentic forms, not styles
Measure the context of form
Measure to make a difference
Use geometry with modified grids