mammoth // building nothing out of something

paris on the anacostia

A New Urbanist (edit: see comments for update) proposal to channelize the Anacostia and extend a modified version of the L’Enfant Plan to its newly narrowed banks, summarized here, is attracting a bit of attention here in DC (also here, here, and here).

1As commentator “Capitol Dome” notes at Greater Greater Washington, the plan proposes “taking away parkland in a poor, mostly black part of the city to sell it off to private developers to build housing for the well-off.” Not exactly Architecture for Humanity, is it…

Setting aside both the plan’s lack of interest in even hinting at mechanisms for dealing with the legal and regulatory challenges it would surely encounter (though, to be fair, I think its legitimate and even instructive to do so at times) and tone-deaf approach to social justice1, I find the plan’s approach to the nature/city interface deeply troubling, as the plan claims to create a great deal of new land through the channelization of the river, but a quick comparison of the before-and-after plans shows that the vast majority of the “new land” is actually acquired by altering land-use patterns on existing land, which makes it hard not to think that the plan (a) expresses a deep-seated distaste for wetlands (exactly the sort of retrograde classicism which New Urbanists work hard to assure us their opponents are projecting onto them) and (b) is interested in channelizing the river for the sake of channelizing the river (because, that way, it looks more like cities built in the heyday of classicism look).

A comparison with Michael Van Valkenburgh’s Toronto Port Lands project, which also adds a great deal of density at the mouth of a river, but does so while “balancing.. the needs of the environment and the needs of the city” (in the words of Andrew Blum’s excellent essay) is not favorable. The Van Valkenburgh team arrived at urban form through intensive collaboration with ecologists and hydrologists; fans of the Anacostia plan seem to assume that ecology and hydrology can be safely ignored in the design of cities, thinking that so long as the overall density of the metropolitan area increases, the plan must have beneficial environmental impacts. Density is, broadly speaking, good, but there’s no reason to think that all density is equivalent in effect upon environmental systems, and every reason to think that incorporating the insights of scientists who specialize in the environmental systems urban designs impact into the design process will result in better density.  The problem with fetishizing the past in reaction to the problems of the present is that it easily obscures lessons learned in the present.

[via the bellows]

camouflaged lockheed

[the Lockheed air terminal in Burbank, camouflaged during World War II for the benefit of Japanese aviators; via greg.org, who suggests that perhaps the next version of the ‘Bilbao Effect’ will be for struggling cities to commission similarly flimsy roofscapes for the benefit of the google maps audience; originals in a california state collection here, and more close-ups at think or thwim; a bit of googling informs me that subtopia noticed this a couple years ago, but I missed it then, so…]

abandoned sites as energy production fields

[The Lackawanna Eight, windmills located in Buffalo on the former site of a Bethlehem Steel facility; background via bing maps]

A partnership between the EPA and the National Renewable Energy Laboratory is looking at the advantages of re-purposing contaminated sites as production sites for wind, solar, biomass, and geothermal power (dull report here and slightly more direct poster here). One study, conducted in Michigan, identified 44,000 acres of contaminated land suitable for harvesting wind and solar power, which, if all covered by solar arrays and wind farms, could “produce an estimated 5,855 megawatts of electricity – enough to power 1.8 million homes, or roughly half the homes in Michigan.” Siting renewable energy production on contaminated land is particularly advantageous in that it enables producers to skirt legal and regulatory challenges which are making it difficult for the Bureau of Land Management to grant permission to build facilities as quickly as it would like — making this pairing an effective strategy for combatting the paralysis of the contemporary legal landscape, which I find particularly interesting, as “NIMBYist political stalemate” is a major hurdle for any attempt to develop significant new infrastructures.

[via Daily Climate]

edward burtynsky, oil

[oil field maintained by the State Oil Company of Azerbaijan Republic, photographed by Edward Burtynsky (Manufactured Landscapes), via dpr-barcelona; visit Burtynsky’s website for additional images from the book]

Edward Burtynsky’s latest book and exhibition explores the landscapes of, machinery that produces, and products dervied from oil:

“When I first started photographing industry it was out of a sense of awe at what we as a species were up to. Our achievements became a source of infinite possibilities. But time goes on, and that flush of wonder began to turn. The car that I drove cross-country began to represent not only freedom, but also something much more conflicted. I began to think about oil itself: as both the source of energy that makes everything possible, and as a source of dread, for its ongoing endangerment of our habitat.”

I’m planning on getting to the exhibition while it’s in DC, and maybe thinking a bit about how problematic aesthetic delight at the sight of a vast oil field can be.

city, battlesuit, archigram

A conversation worth following: the original piece is Matt Jones’s “The City is a Battlesuit for Surviving the Future” at io9, in which Matt draws connections between Archigram, the architecture of science fiction and comics, ubiquitous computing, and the future of mega-cities.

Varnelis responds, arguing that Jones’ rhetorical adoption of Archigram inadvertently reveals an absence of critique in contemporary urbanism. The comments on Varnelis’s post, including those from Enrique (a456) and Geoff (bldgblog), are perceptive. I’d like to think that its possible to be both enthusiastic and critical, or at least that there’s room for both enthusiasts and critics. If one accepts Geoff’s description in which criticism describes problems and enthusiasm locates positives, then it seems rather obvious that both are necessary. So while the presence of only one but not the other is certainly problematic, I’d be more likely to describe architecture as suffering from a deficit of both done well (particularly if ‘enthusiasm’ is defined as something like a BLDGBLOG-ian, wide-ranging sense of wonder, rather than the mere acceptance/promotion of whatever seems exciting) than as being dominated by one or the other.

Things also respond, exploring the persistence of, well, things in the utopian data city. See also Millennium People’s comment on Things’s comment on Jones’s comment…

Lebbeus Woods’s recent post on utopia isn’t explicitly linked to this conversation, but Varnelis’s comment on the “decline of utopian thought” makes the connection obvious.

places at design observer

The architecture/urbanism/landscape journal Places has recently taken up residency at Design Observer; notable new articles include a review of The Infrastructural City by Chris Stooss (with attached slideshow of Lane Barden’s wonderful photographs from that book), an article on the relationship between landscape architecture and ecology (excerpted from a new book on Michael Van Valkenburgh, and so focusing on two projects by Van Valkenburgh’s office, including the TerraGRAM High Line scheme that I’ve previously mentioned my fondness for), and UrbanLab’s eco-boulevard proposal for Chicago, “Growing Water”. Places has also placed either the entirety or an extensive portion of their archives online (I haven’t done the work of figuring out which), which means that you can pair The Infrastructural City’s (warranted) skepticism about the ability of infrastructure to “rescue” architecture with Linda Samuels’s “Infrastructural Optimism”, from the spring issue of Places. Or read Whitney Moon’s “Reclaiming the Ruin”, on “ad hoc, underground, and unsanctioned practices” as a “remedy for postindustrial ruin”; Dana Cuff on “Design after Disaster”; or Stephen Luoni on the ramifications of the emergence of the nonprofit sector, as expressed through architecture in Little Rock.

[link via varnelis]

city of sound, sentient city, continued

I see that Dan Hill put the post from the Toward the Sentient City exhibit up at City of Sound, and that version improves on the version at Toward the Sentient City by including links and images.  Reading Hill’s post again, I noticed a couple paragraphs that bear on the post below regarding architecture and “urban systems design”, which I’ll quote at length:

Gregory Weissner’s introduction indicates that the show is “intended to bring architects and urban designers into a conversation that until now has been limited largely to technologists.” He continues:

“Don’t be confused by the technology (and the terminology), though. What we are talking about is nothing short of a complete reorientation of our relationship to the built environment and the unintended consequences are not going to be all positive. Either architects and urban designers insert themselves now into the discussion about how these technologies are conceptualized and deployed or they risk diminishing the unique contributions they bring to shaping our world.”

Architecture and urban design should be in this debate, no doubt, but its entire practice, sensibility and economic model may need redressing (as with many other fields, of course.) Given their previous predilections, the lack of technical and conceptual understanding – never mind an apparently congenital inability to design a decent website – the profession has a long way to go before it can demand a seat at the table. An admittedly fading tradition of thinking of itself as the ‘master builder’ needs to be entirely excoriated once and for all. Devising the architect’s new sensibility – what Paul Dourish would describe as “the designer’s stance” for the discipline – will also be fundamentally important. Either way, complex urban systems are well beyond the ken of the sole master builder; they have been for years, but increasingly so with this ever more multi-layered understanding of the city.

Other design disciplines – interaction design, industrial design, service design, to name three – are currently far better placed to lead on these ideas, within multidisciplinary design teams. So the architect may be best-placed as part of that team, leading on spatial intelligence just as others might lead on information and communication systems, materials, structures, embodied interaction, behavioural psychology, topography, acoustics, biodiversity and so on. In a recent conversation with the SENSEable City Lab’s Carlo Ratti, we ended up sketching out a loosely multidisciplinary team in which the architect was one of perhaps ten different disciplines, all of whom would lead at various points.

Which reinforces my impression that the architect’s role in future design conversations will have less to do with a particular kind of technical expertise (as Hill points out, architects are way behind technologists in developing the technical expertise necessary to design for a sentient city) and more to do with a peculiar way of thinking (or kind of intelligence).  Doesn’t do much to explain why the “spatial intelligence” architects provide is particularly useful or important, but when architects are conversing with themselves, that’s probably less important than pointing out disciplinary deficiencies.

urban systems design and the architectural disciplines

You should read Adam Greenfield’s post “Towards Urban Systems Design”, which includes some response to my brief note on Dan Hill’s post at Towards the Sentient City.  A couple items from Greenfield’s post below that I’d like to respond to, in reverse of the order in which they appear in the original, because that’s convenient for me.  My response will probably be a lot more intelligible if you read Greenfield’s post in its entirety first.

First:

AG: Holmes argues that architecture has ceded the “big picture” to the contingent whims of other disciplines, I’d submit that this is because the field is in genuine risk of missing the picture entirely. I like to think that I’m reasonably familiar with what’s going on in the domain, as an enthusiast amateur, and if I can judge by what gets published, even the more advanced practices of the current architectural generation seemingly remain smitten by scale-free, procedural strategies for the generation of form. Their exercises are often lovely, occasionally awe-inspiring, but they seem to issue from some mathic universe governed by the teraflop exertions of a deep ruleset that excludes the possibility either of human agency or of the frailty which inevitably attends it.

I think these points of view can be reconciled — ceding and missing are not mutally exclusive conditions, but complimentary, as the ceding comes not from failing to stake down an appropriately large portion of the various kinds of technical expertise at play in the city, but from failing to show any interest in the “big picture” at all, through the mistaken belief that technical expertise is the only kind of expertise which architecture ought to be interested in. One of the intentions of my first post, which may not have come across because of brevity, was to argue against the idea that architects or landscape architects ought to “seize back” this or that piece of technical expertise from other disciplines. Furthermore, insofar as landscape/architecture have the potential to do the kind of holistic thinking necessary to be “big picture” designers, it largely remains only that, though, to back up the assertion that there is potential, I’d point to practicioners like Corner or academics like Varnelis, who are doing exactly the kind of thinking I’d call systemic and holisitic.

And second:

AG: I don’t think architecture is at present organized or oriented in such a way as to provide the necessary insights, nor are individual architects much motivated to do so (with the usual and much-admired exceptions).

1Note: I’m a landscape architect, so I have a slightly different set of concerns than the average architect. But I think the concerns of the two disciplines are close enough in many cases that its often worth discussing both at once, as in this case.

I’m all for the rise of a class of “urban systems designers”, and, to the extent (not too much) that I care whether or not those people include people who call themselves “architects” or not, its primarily because I’ve thrown my lot in with the folks who classify themselves by that label, and so I’d like to see us engage the city in the most helpful ways possible1. Do I think that the kind of thinking that architects are trained in is similar to the kind of thinking “urban systems designers” would do? At our very best (which, to be fair, occurs so rarely that Greenfield is right to refer to ‘exceptions), yes, I suppose I do.  But it’s not identical and I certainly don’t think it would be a good thing at all if architects (or landscape architects) were the only “urban systems designers”.

Hopefully we can agree that, regardless of whether there’s real institutional bleed between the architectural disciplines and “urban systems design”, it’d be absolutely fantastic if some, or even many, architects and landscape architects were trained as Greenfield suggests “urban systems designers” would be: at least familiar with “economic geography and incentive landscapes”, taught to develop accounts of human motivation, modeling the roles of urban actors, retaining an interest in the phenomenology of the city, developing deeper understandings of choice and decision structures.  But while I’m quite interested in the question “What can the architectural disciplines do to improve conditions in the city?”, I’m not at all interested in asking “How can landscape/architects become the primary shapers of urban conditions?”  And, in regards to the former question, whether or not the architectural disciplines are the disciplines best positioned to design holistically-considered interventions in urban systems or not, they are certainly capable of thinking more holistically than they are at the moment.  In Greenfield’s terms, I’m interested in what we can do to encourage the growth of more exceptions to the lack of orientation towards and interest in systemic thinking about cities amongst landscape/architects.

The way I think about this is similar to the way that I think about the practice of philosophy (which my undergraduate degree was in, as is probably clear from my excessive use of parentheticals and run-on sentences): to study philosophy is at once to study a discipline (with the attendant institutions, career paths, histories of thought, patterns of arguments, and so on which that implies) and to study a way (really, ways) of thinking. While studying the discipline produces a narrow set of essentially technical skills (the ability to produce long arguments regarding narrow conversations in epistemology, for instance), which some people who study philosophy develop their careers around, it also develops the ability of the mind to process certain kinds of information (words, mostly) in certain ways (arguments, mostly), which many other people who study philosophy use in the pursuit of endeavors that may or may not have much obvious relationship to the profession of philosophy. Good philosophy teachers accept both types of study as valid ways to interact with the practice of philosophy. Landscape/architecture could be similar. At the moment, the former kind of study (discipline, though maybe profession would be a better word) is heavily emphasized by architecture schools. But I think the latent potential to develop the latter — architecture as a way of thinking — is there. And while it isn’t essential for the city that architects develop that potential (others will do the work if we don’t), it is essential for architects to develop that potential if we’d like to see our disciplines remain relevant to the shaping of the city.

translators for the networked city

Adam Greenfield, as usual critically interrogating the potential of the networked city, in the unedited version of a piece that’s running in this month’s Wired UK:

…the complex technologies the networked city relies upon to produce its effects remain distressingly opaque, even to those exposed to them on a daily basis.

In fact, it’s surpassingly hard to be appropriately critical and to make sound choices in a world where we don’t understand the objects around us. Understanding networked urbanism on its own terms, however wise it might be, requires an investment of time and effort beyond the reach of most. (”I learned to drive in order to read Los Angeles in the original,” said the great 20th Century architectural critic Reyner Banham, and the systems we’re talking about are orders of magnitude more complex than mere cars and freeways.)

In the networked city, therefore, the truly pressing need is for translators: people capable of opening these occult systems up, demystifying them, explaining their implications to the people whose neighborhoods and choices and very lives are increasingly conditioned by them. This will be a primary occupation for urbanists and technologists both, for the foreseeable future, as will ensuring that the public’s right to benefit from the data they themselves generate is recognized in law. If we’re reaching the point where it makes sense to consider the city as a fabric of addressable, queryable, even scriptable objects and surfaces – to reimagine its pavements, building façades and parking meters as network resources – this raises an order of questions never before confronted, ethical as much as practical: who has the right of access to these resources, or the ability to set their permissions?

These are essential questions, as the application of any technology which transforms the city so thoroughly contains the potential for abuse, whether born out of intent sinister or noble but misguided.

dan hill on the sentient city

City of Sound’s Dan Hill comments on the Architecture League’s exhibition “Toward the Sentient City”, at the Sentient City website. While he praises the intent and content of the exhibition, he wonders if it doesn’t go far enough in several ways. The last of these, “the positioning of architecture itself”, is particularly relevant to themes mammoth has been concerned with lately:

The Melbourne-based educator Leon van Schaik suggests architecture took a wrong turn when professionalising in the mid-19th century, in thrall to the engineer of the emerging industrial economy. Van Schaik’s critique is profoundly important, as it describes the seeds that have led to architecture’s near-marginalisation but also of its potentially influential future:

“To complete with this practical glamour our forebears went to the heart of making in architecture – its technologies of carving, moulding, draping or assembling – when they staked their claim to be caretakers of a body of knowledge for society. The architectural capacity to think and design in three and four dimensions, our highly developed spatial intelligence, was overlooked, and for the profession space became, by default, something that resulted from what was construction … What if our forebears had professionalised architecture around spatial intelligence rather than the technologies of shelter? Might society find it easier to recognise what is unique about what our kind of thinking can offer?” [Leon van Schaik, “Spatial Intelligence: New Futures for Architecture”]

The articulation and exploration of spatial histories that van Schaik suggests would be a fascinating next step for exhibitions such as this, and the designers involved. How might exhibitions help develop this understanding of how spatial intelligence, and how it augments the other intelligences of kinetic, natural, linguistic, logical, mathematical, musical and personal?…

I haven’t read van Schaik’s book, but it sounds like I ought to. One could certainly offer the same complaint about landscape architects that Hill offers about architects — that, in the attempt to carve out a niche of technological expertise for ourselves (to own a piece of what Habermas or Ellul would call ‘technique’), we’ve ceded the big picture (and, with it, the really interesting work) to the accidental whims of the engineers (experts in infrastructure), planners (experts in navigating the regulatory terrain of city-shaping), developers (experts in financing), and ecologists (experts in the science of relationship). If, without having read anything other than this quote, I understand van Schaik correctly, he’s suggesting that architects (and, by extension, landscape architects) ought to expand the terrain of architecture not by grabbing at other pieces of expertise (which would be essentially a zero-sum project), but by offering an entirely different kind of expertise, which is now offered only accidentally or incidentally, if at all.

zibo

[apartment blocks in Zibo, via google maps]

A photo essay on the Chinese city of Zibo, in four parts (Zibo I, Zibo II, Zibo III, Zibo IV — best viewed in IE/Safari/Chrome, as some script there tends to upset Firefox), from Moving Cities, who are doing some fascinating research on urbanism in China.  Zibo is one of the many very large cities in China which I think I’m being fair in saying that most westerners have never heard of (when we made this map, which shows only cities project to have over 5 million people by 2025, for our entry to the bracket competition, I was shocked at how many very large cities in China I’d never heard of).  With somewhere between 2.75 and 3 million people in the city proper, Zibo’s city-center population is larger than that of every American city but New York, Los Angeles, and Chicago and every city in the EU but London, Berlin, Madrid, and Rome.

[via James Fallows]

ephemeral infrastructures

Between 1999 and 2004, Ruth Dusseault documented the transformation of Atlanta’s derelict Atlantic Steel Industries complex into Atlantic Station, a massive (138 acres, with a budget exceeding two billion dollars) residential and retail development.  The photos reveal a fascinating but ephemeral landscape marked by raw and unfinished structures that are eventually buried beneath more civilized veneers.

I’d like to think that there’s a place for a landscape architect who specializes in the design of these ephemeral landscapes, or, at least, for that hypothetical architect to design an unsolicited project or two (a dizzyingly complex labyrinth of concrete chambers and corridors buried within a seemingly prosaic suburban office complex, for instance, or a precisely graded work of land art submerged beneath the placid surface of a drainage pond) — that the beauty of these embedded structures might not be wholly accidental, but might result from the careful consideration of both the pragmatic demands of being scaffolding and substructure as well as the whimsical or serious ends of the designer.

“New Stormwater Sewer”, 2001

[More photographs below; the full set of photographs can be seen on Dusseault’s website, divided into five sections: the old steel mill, demolition, infrastructure, the parking deck, and the new city.]

[Update: I meant to include a link to Toshio Shibata’s photography when I wrote this post, because his work is an obvious point of reference, but couldn’t find it at the time.]

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brodsky’s ice pavilion

[Alexander Brodsky‘s pavilion on Lake Pirogovo, near Moscow, via flickr user Yuri PalminDescribed in Metropolis in 2006:

…in winter 2003 a team of laborers under his direction trudged out onto [Lake Pirogov’s] frozen surface and, in the frigid conditions, assembled a rectangular mesh cage about 40 feet long and 8 feet high that they proceeded to hose down with warm water. That water turned to ice, and when lit from its interior, the structure—a bar—glowed like a warm jewel. With spring’s thaw the cage was carted away; the rest sank to the bottom of the lake.]

burnham’s centennial

Infrastructurist has a round-up of some of the projects selected by Chicago to commemorate the centennial anniversary of Burnham and Bennett’s Plan of Chicago. The projects, roughly themed as “big”, “bold”, and “visionary”, are organized into six categories: big plans, catalysts, public spaces, the lake front, towers, and transportation. Notable winners include Urbanlab’s plan to turn the entire city into a gigantic Living Machine (previously featured on Pruned), generic corporatised micro-cities with little apparent virtue (but a great deal of practicality, I suppose), an “extension of Northerly Island” which “abstracts nature” to “allow visitors to experience the essences of forests, oceans, mountains, deserts, and the Arctic”, various plans rendered unfortunately obsolete by today’s announcement, modular barges for extending Lincoln Park into the lake (more on that one, which I rather like, here), and a plan that hopes all our problems will magically go away (ok, that’s a bit harsh, as the idea that the street grid lives into a post-car future as a park system is at least moderately interesting, but only a bit), among other things.  The exhibition website is unfortunately superficial, leaving the visitor with little to judge the projects on other than a handful of small renderings, though presumably the actual exhibition is more detailed.

I think I’m a fan of Garofalo Architect’s “New Loop Ecologies”, which augments the Loop with “new station stops outfitted with public activities” and a “new and continuous rooftop ecology”, though their renderings are a bit optimistic/naive about what’d grow on a roof over the Loop. (Why’s everything got to be corn and lettuce?) I doubt you could grow corn in the deep shadows of downtown Chicago, anyways, and wouldn’t the project be more interesting if it capitalized a bit on the, um, ecology of the loop a bit by suggesting a vegetated infrastructure that’s tied to the shaded, windy conditions of the new roof of the loop (imagine how much less interesting the Mittagong mushroom tunnel would be if it were the Mittagong corn-and-lettuce tunnel)?

gameworlds

[screenshot from Utopia, a rather unique game that blended SimCity-esque urban development with a proto-Starcraft model of realtime combat management in a science fiction setting]

Getting quite close to the (October 9th) release date for Cities XL, which is at least moderately interesting to those of us (I’d imagine a fair percentage of designers in their twenties and thirties) who developed and/or nurtured childhood fascinations with urban planning through SimCity and the like. What should be the final trailer can be found here. It seems there’s a bit of controversy because the basic release’s transportation options will be limited to roads and freeways, which I suppose I would find disappointing (if I planned on playing the game, which I don’t think I do) as, even though there’s nothing wrong with the vicarious thrill of watching citizens stuck in hellish traffic in the pollution-choked metropolis you’ve built, we play these sorts of games to experiment, and so having to pay extra for the buses and trains is a bit like having to rent the shovel for the sandbox.

The real disappointment, though, is how strictly limiting these games can be — in SimCity, for instance, the entire game engine was built around modeling cause and effect in the urban system as understood by the late 20th century modernist planning orthodoxy, in which the ultimate planner is a near-deity, laying out strictly-defined, single use zones within his city, with the primary feedback loop being the construction, abandonment, and demolition of buildings based upon increasing or decreasing real estate values. It’d be much more thrilling to enter into (and, I admit, much more difficult to build) a gameworld where the player encounters more basic conditions (populations, ecologies, resources, terrain) and, in the process of responding to those conditions, constructs the urban ruleset as a by-product of interaction with the gameworld. So one player might be drawn to orderly boulevards organized around pedestrian transportation and discover himself a virtual Baron Haussman, or another organizes his city around vast parks, over and underpasses, and sky-lit skyscrapers, unwittingly resurrecting Le Corbusian planning, only to find his city devolving into a Blade Runner-esque dystopia1.

1Why, also, are the buildings built and terrains inhabited by the citizens of SimCity and Cities XL so dull? Where’s the game that lets us manage Underground Berlins, New Babylons, or Cable Cities? You know you’d play that.

Or, even better, instead of Cities XL, its Infrastructure XL, and rather than semi-omnipotent mayor, you’re the superintendent of public works: you build tangled on-ramps, dig vast subterranean networks for trains, massive piers for transoceanic commerce to dock at, dams, powerlines, sewers, solar farms, canals, parking garages, airports, public parks, playgrounds, landfills, cemeteries, wastewater treatment plants, reservoirs, nuclear power plants, stormwater detention ponds, and so on — all for the pleasure of watching the city shift, grow, and evolve in response to them. Who’s to say that a more limited and focused decision set wouldn’t present more interesting choices? Build the egg digesters and they will come. Now that’s a game I’d play.

from constant to variable

Adam Greenfield wrote a post about a week ago using Berlin’s Allianz Arena as a test case for a general shift in urbanism from “constant” to “variable”, which is one of the shifts he’s previously identified as composing a condition he calls “networked urbanism”. Greenfield speculates about how the Arena’s current, relatively limited ability to reconfigure itself in response to stimuli (it varies the color and lighting of its facade, depending on what team is using it) might be expanded to incorporate more sophisticated feedback loops, allowing building and crowd to interact successively and more directly, as well as noting that the increasing mutability of architectural properties (which he describes as “architecture… learning to dance”) has the potential to have massive effect on the future of the city. I’d be fascinated to see what this shift — constant to variable — looks like as it develops in less strictly delineated, much more individuated incarnations — such as buildings or landscapes that evolve or mutate in response to the generative and emergent properties of crowds, or, to extend the soccer analogy, an Allianz Arena whose architectural properties are as much a result of the interactions of the crowds (within or without) as the interior landscape of Dortmund’s Westfalenstadion is of the Südtribüne.

it’s in ohio

[Black volcanic sand desert in Iceland, via flickr user meiburgin.]

Back in August, while on vacation, I read David Foster Wallace’s first novel, The Broom of the System.  A pair of geographies he invented, the suburb of East Corinth and the Great Ohio Desert, particularly fascinated me, as they demonstrate how ordinary ideas (the urban plan as figure and landscape as moral coercion) can become utterly alien, when stretched to extreme scale:

The ant was torn off the windshield by the wind when Lenore hit the Inner Belt of I-271 and started going seriously fast.  The offices of the publishing firm of Frequent and Vigorous were in that part of downtown Cleveland called Erieview Plaza, right near Lake Erie.  Lenore took the Inner Belt south and west from Shaker Heights, preparatory to her being flung by I-271 northward into the city itself, which meant that she was for a while with her car tracing the outline of the city of East Corinth, Ohio, which was where she had her apartment, and which determined the luxuriant and not unpopular shape of the Inner Belt Section of I-271.

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not purely mathematical constructions

[Sensors lining the coast of Monterrey Bay, measuring surface currents]

A NYTimes article reports on the increasing interest of scientists in “Lagrangian coherent structures”, physical constructs within liquid and gaseous flows which are essentially invisible to unaided eye, but revealed and mapped with the aid of networks of sensors and pattern-discerning algorithms:

The concept of the structures grew out of dynamical systems theory, a branch of mathematics used to understand complicated phenomena that change over time. The discovery of the structures in a wide range of real-world cases has shown that they play a key role in complex and chaotic fluid flows in the atmosphere and ocean.

The structures are invisible because they often exist only as dividing lines between parts of a flow that are moving at different speeds and in different directions. In the ocean, the path of a drop of water on one side of such a structure might diverge from the path of a drop of water on the other side; they will drift farther apart as time passes.

A laser anemometer, via wikipedia

One potential application is an overlay for airplane pilots which projects a visual representation of the mathematical tendencies of moving air masses, enabling them to avoid turbulence and conserve fuel; another is more directly infrastructural — a pollutant holding tank whose release is cybernetically with optimum moments in these patterns:

The scientists studying Monterey Bay found a Lagrangian coherent structure that acts as a moving ridge, separating a region of the bay that spreads pollutants out to sea and a region that recirculates them in the bay. They watched this ridge drift and change over 22 days and found that if computed in real time, it could be used to predict one-day windows when pollutants could do less damage to the bay environment.

The scientists proposed building a holding tank for the fertilizers and pesticides that wash from farmland into the neighboring watershed that could release pollutants only at times when they would quickly drift into the ocean, where they would be so diluted they would pose less harm to marine life.

avent and cowen on tysons corner

There’s a discussion about the economics and politics of urbanizing suburbia taking place between economics bloggers Ryan Avent and Tyler Cowen right now (if you’re not familiar with the two, Avent is roughly liberal and Cowen is roughly libertarian, though both are more or less independent thinkers).  It begins with this Washington Post article which reports on a conflict between the plan for the redevelopment of Tysons Corner proposed last year by the “Tysons Land Use Task Force” (and subsequently adopted by at least some portion of Fairfax County’s government) and new recommendations from Fairfax County’s planners, who argue that last year’s proposal would overwhelm the existing road and highway infrastructure and recommend reducing the density of the redevelopment plan.

Tyson’s Corner, Virginia, which if you’re not familiar with it, is a particularly large conglomeration of retail and office space at the perimeter of Washington’s Beltway.  This NPR story provides a decent overview of the issues at hand.

A quick and abbreviated summary, which I hope will encourage you to read the series of posts: Tyler Cowen picked up on the Post article, writing in support of the new recommendations, which disturbed Avent, who thought that Cowen was, hypocritically, cheering on a decision by planners “to artifically reduce density” and willfully ignoring solutions to the problems the planners cite (Yglesias piled on here).  Cowen responded, with an argument about how the existing infrastructures in place in Tysons are not conducive to urbanization and an explanation of why he didn’t think he was being hypocritical.  Avent asserts in yet another post that “the whole point of the redevelopment plan is to rectify the problems [Cowen identifies]” with the existing infrastructures, points out that while the original plan is a “‘mega-plan’ involving significant infrastructure changes [that] does not mean that planners are directing the development of the real estate”, and suggests that this is an excellent example of how development patterns necessarily emerge from infrastructural patterns, rather than appearing fully-formed from the womb of the free market.  On the side, Will Wilkinson enters into the discussion to emphasize “path dependence” (which, I suppose, is not a dissimilar concept to the endurance of cities, even if its not exactly the same), and Avent responds that Wilkinson is giving too much weight to static forces and not enough to dynamic forces.

the sewers of cote st. paul

[The sewer as limestone cavern, or the near-total hybridization of infrastructure and natural process, via Under Montreal.]