It’s obvious that Dan Gilbert is getting excellent advice as he invests in public space interventions that are defining the New Detroit in major ways.
His contributions to the downtown core demonstrate three important qualities which offer lessons for other cities:
1. They add to Detroit’s unique culture, character and identity (v. generic, placeless design)
2. They are upbeat and dignified (not glitzy and cheesy)
3. They reflect a spirit of stewardship (leveraging the city’s human assets and potential)
This striking new 18-story mural by Shepard Fairey is a fine example. Created as part of his work with Library Street Collective its enduring theme of peace and justice animate an otherwise boring view of ordinary architecture and a parking garage:
When skillfully placed, there is huge potential for Big Art to enliven dull urban spaces. But in order to be an enduring asset, the art must have strong, defining qualities that will make it locally meaningful and internationally significant.
By contrast, this “me-too” artwork (only a few blocks away) is one of literally 100 similar murals by the artist and is located 700 miles from the nearest ocean:
This photo essay is about the role of public seating in places that nurture human relationships and actively contribute to a healthy state of mind.
A decade or so ago it was common to see pathogenic parks and public spaces. I remember sitting in NYC’s Bryant Park (briefly, in the ’80’s) when it was scary. Decaying conditions and anti-social behavior became normal when there was no direct involvement by each community in ongoing improvements.
In recent years, new standards for civic engagement and quality have been set by such places as Bryant Park, Campus Martius in Detroit and Sugar Beach in Toronto.
Recently I led a Jane’s Walk which looked at a wide range of settings in terms of how they make us feel and why.
My message was that our daily visual diet affects our state of mind. We can make better choices as individuals and as a society if we become better critics.
During my walk I mentioned that “building beloved places is a sustainability issue.” Up to 40% of solid waste in landfills comes from construction debris. If we aim to build places that are love-worthy, they will not be destined for demolition. Our recent SAB Magazine article explores this idea in more detail.
Everyone has a different “Love List.” I’ve noted in the slides above some of my reasons for choosing these particular places.
What places do you love in your city?
– Sharon VanderKaay
How healthy is this place? How does it make you feel? In what ways does the design affect social interaction?
As we move through our daily lives, what elements in our habitat come together to feed our psyches—or starve our spirits?
Social media encourages people to instantly communicate their feelings about a place. We can now be part of an ongoing, multi-directional, open conversation, rather than being confined to formal design theories and official architectural criticism.
As we participate in these conversations, we build awareness for how design affects our state of mind. Social media also shows us global examples of what’s possible, thus exposing gaps in our own built environment.
For instance, recent visitors to Credit Valley Hospital (designed by Farrow) took photos and commented on the design’s impact:
One of these tweets was posted by Robert Wakulat, a partner with Wakulat Dhirani LLP at the Centre for Social Innovation, who reports he has always had some sense of how places affect his state of mind, having lived in Europe and Japan to contrast with Toronto. He says, “Twitter provided an outlet to express those feelings…If anything Twitter has accelerated that awareness…After seeing what I liked or made sense in foreign contexts, it became more frustrating to see the ways in which Toronto was lacking.”
He further reflects, “I do think social media (Twitter, Facebook, Instagram) creates more instances of being wistful for the progressive ideas or heritage-honouring choices that other cities make. It also allows a conversation to take place between Torontonians following each other on what we like/dislike.”
Robert also believes that “following people on Twitter who contribute to publications such as Spacing Magazine (e.g. Shawn Micallef) keeps him in touch with the positives and negatives of what exists in our city.”
Indeed these exchanges also serve to highlight spaces that lack human qualities, such as:
Some designers have expressed concern that greater public participation will ultimately lead to “crowdsourcing design to the lowest level of taste.” However, we believe greater powers of observation and wider engagement in design issues are prerequisites for social, economic, psychological and physical health, as explained in our recent SAB magazine article.
1. They give us fresh perspective on the city. (Union Square, San Francisco)
2. They bring diverse people together. (The High Line, New York City)
3. They are a great place to eat lunch. (Vancouver Art Gallery)
4. You can be both alone and part of a group. (Pioneer Square, Portland, OR)
5. Your friends can more easily find you. (Metropolitan Museum of Art, NYC)
6. They motivate you to study. (Ryerson Student Centre, Toronto)
7. They mix formal with informal. (Four Seasons Centre, Toronto) (photo source)
8. Some combine ramps + stairs (“stramps”). (Robson Square, Vancouver)
9. They are a perfect venue for your brass band. (Philosopher’s Walk, Toronto)
10. You might see a pillow fight or Spider Man on a very early Spring day. (City Hall, Toronto)
Public reaction to big new development schemes tends to focus on taste (likes and dislikes) or issues such as whether the style fits with that of nearby buildings. When a new “artist’s concept” appears in the media, what questions spring to mind?
Our questions might include: Is it a bold optimistic statement about the future…or a giant oppressive sculpture that will loom over us? Will it feed our souls, or make us feel less human?
What if we always asked an even bigger question: How healthy is this proposed scheme?
Such a fundamental question raises the issue of how the development will affect our state of mind and whether it will nurture human connections.
In terms of creating a long term ecological asset, it’s not enough to simply aim for technical sustainability. We must now assess the potential impact on sustaining and nurturing us as humans.
This means seeing big development schemes as they affect our total health—ranging from creating a cultural and social asset, to stimulating our brains and revitalizing our spirit.
It’s time to get beyond superficial criteria in evaluating developer and architect-proposed schemes. If what we build is not beloved today, it is at risk of being landfill tomorrow.
– Sharon Vanderkaay
Today’s Packard plant naysayers echo the words of New York’s High Line critics back in 1999. Since that time 15 years ago the 1.45 mile-long High Line has been transformed from a disused liability to an enormous asset that inspires reclamation projects globally.
On the surface, the Packard and the High Line may have little in common beyond their status as industrial relics, but the process for creating such a massive success is comparable. Decades from now, the epic story of both efforts will begin with dire predictions by vehement critics, no financial resources and very few leaders willing to step forward to make things happen.
PROCESS, PROCESS, PROCESS
How do dangerous hell holes become prosperous hot spots? How does a vague vision take wing to exceed the founder’s wildest dreams?
Attention all Packard plant cynics, skeptics and dreamers!
Here are five leap-of-faith lessons to be gleaned from the High Line project:
1. You don’t have to be rich to attract major capital.
When the Packard’s new owner Fernando Palazuelo recently told a group, “Sorry, I’m not a millionaire” some hopes were deflated and a few people may have heard only impending doom. But High Line founders Joshua David and Robert Hammond were also not wealthy. Both were resourceful residents of ordinary means who stepped up to attract extraordinary talent and financial support.
They did this by bringing fresh energy and passion to the task while realizing that this was a pivotal moment in history. Joshua David and Robert Hammond knew that if they didn’t find ways to rally people around this cause, nothing would happen. So they stepped forward to get things rolling.
Likewise, we are now witnessing a historic moment for Detroit’s citizens and supporters. Will we find ways to make this site an economic powerhouse and magnet for inventors? Fernando Palazuelo stepped up when no other viable buyer for site came forward. Now we must do what we can to support him, while always keeping our eyes open.
2. “Impossible” projects require many “owners.”
So if Mr. Palazuelo is not a magnanimous benefactor, how should we see his role?
The High Line founders provided a human face and an emotional story—versus an anonymous, unilateral announcement by a remote corporation—that attracted a torrent of support and talent. They found ways to benefit from a wide range of quality consultants, authorities and donors. In particular, they worked with first class designers, including graphic designers, urban planners and architects. Their big idea was to not only preserve the rail line, but to create something new and exciting.
The Packard plant must embody holistic change from Detroit’s old culture of dependency. It must fuel the belief that people can get big things done when they contribute to a common purpose, rather than waiting for a benefactor. Palazuelo is currently the legal owner, but many other citizens must step up and feel a sense of ownership and investment in the Packard’s long-term success.
3. People want to be part of something bigger than themselves.
The High Line offered supporters a chance to make a lasting contribution to a big exciting project and legacy. It brought people together in an entrepreneurial environment to feed the natural human longing to part of something with an enduring higher purpose.
The Packard plant is seen internationally as the most visible symbol of Detroit’s extreme frustrations and suffering. The idea that this site could become a new global symbol for the city’s deeper, inventive spirit presents a cause worth fighting for.
Strong commitment to a cause and legacy will be required to navigate financial, regulatory and political obstacles. Whenever big ideas are proposed there will be naysayers. It is useful to keep in mind that there were prominent Parisians who once opposed the Eiffel Tower.
4. Avoid false dilemmas, such as a choice between “unproductive space” and revenue
Whole neighborhoods benefit when places succeed in developing their true assets. In the early days of the High Line, some naysayers assumed that an either/or choice must be made between preserving the rail line and tearing it down to build revenue generating properties.
Instead of choosing between demolition and revenue, the High Line has accomplished both. More than $2 billion in developments can be linked to the first two sections of the High Line. The elevated park and promenade has become a major iconic tourist attraction for the city, with three million annual visitors (10 times what the founders originally envisioned) a quarter of whom come from outside the United States.
Genuine assets generate interest and investment. The Packard and the High Line offer meaningful stories that connect us with the long march of history. These connections with the past and layers of human intervention are irreplaceable assets that cannot be faked.
5. Overnight success may take a decade or more.
The High Line took ten years to plan and realize. It continues to evolve as an additional segment is added.
Fernando Palazuelo has stated that the Packard plant may take over a decade to develop.
Instant, fully-formed developments rarely endear themselves to the public. The reality of big complex projects is that, while they benefit from a master plan and vision, multi-year phasing allows for new ideas and adjustments to emerge. Phasing also provides opportunities to build enthusiasm, attract diverse participation and to learn from early experiments.
– Sharon VanderKaay
To promote walking, streets need to be interesting as well as physically accessible. This collection of examples illustrate different approaches to adding art and artistry to everyday walking experiences.
Margie Zeidler and Paul Bedford lead one of Toronto’s 139 Jane’s Walks last weekend. Revitalized buildings such as 401 Richmond are irreplaceable public health assets.
Rarely is heritage preservation talked about as a mental health issue. Yet during the Jane’s Walk I convened last Sunday, “How Healthy is This Place: A Visual Critique,” participants felt that visual connections to the past, and layers of natural evolution (v. sudden mass re-development) affected their state of mind. They also saw the positive health benefits of “weathered” natural imperfection, spontaneity and real human emotion.
In other words, they cared about a “visual diet” that includes variety consisting of both new and revitalized places that connect with street life and nature.
By contrast, we can feel disoriented, alienated and even depressed in settings that are anonymous and lacking emotional attachment.
A visual diet of empty calories causes dis-ease
Heritage preservation makes us feel part of something bigger than ourselves. Links to meaningful stories are an antidote to urban alienation. And as one of my walk participants pointed out, there is a growing body of research indicating that our brains benefit from the stimulation of authenticity, variety, nature, vitality and a sense of legacy.
Thumbs up to these Jane’s Walk participants who provided all the insightful content for my experimental format, based on two basic questions:
What do you see? How does that make you feel?
– Sharon VanderKaay
One of the big ideas promoted by Jane’s Walk is that anyone can lead a walk. More and more citizens–who may or may not be licensed designers–are now engaged in talking about qualities that contribute to healthy urban habitats. This increase in awareness is changing what people expect from their visual environment.
I hope that the walk I’m organizing for May 4 will encourage participants to get in the habit of asking, “How healthy is this place?” To help us sharpen our critical eyes, I created the (very informal) diagnostic scorecard above. Please join me as we analyse these ingredients and how they affect our state of mind and ultimately our state of health.