A Space That Is Not the Battlefield

by Patrick Sykes

The dust is settling on Shura City, yet not a single brick has been laid. Since this proposal for a drone-proof city emerged, its creator, Asher Kohn, has attracted the unexpected attention of architects, allies and antagonists alike. I spoke with Asher and Hiba Ali — the visual artist who created a virtual model of the city — as they developed plans for Shura's interior spaces.

Replacing Industry with Green Housing in Stockholm

by Peter Sigrist and Rebecka Gordan

“Sustainable architecture and urban development can never be solely technical issues or be reduced to a matter of points on a certification scale, but need to begin with fundamental social issues: How are we to live together and how can architecture and the city create best possible conditions?”

– Henrietta Palmer in “Art and Institution: A Contradiction?” 2010

Reversing the Panopticon

by Dieter Zinnbauer

The infamous Panopticon, conceived by Jeremy Bentham and thoroughly analyzed by Michel Foucault, is emblematic of architecture's role in surveillance and discipline — a blueprint for the perfect prison. It allows a watchman to observe inmates without them being able to tell whether anyone is actually watching them, generating an eerie sense of being monitored all the time.

Defense of a ‘Cultural Factory’

by Cristiana Strava

The Casablanca art world has been up in arms since the Feb. 15 print edition of Al Ittihad announced that the city government planned to transform a popular cultural space into a parking lot.


Source: Nafas

The site of Casablanca's old slaughterhouses — known locally as "les abattoirs" or simply "l'batoir" — covers five hectares in the historically industrial neighborhood of Hay Mohammadi. Its buildings were designed by French architect Georges-Ernest Desmarest and completed in 1922. Abandoned 80 years later, the site became a rallying point for local artists and architects with ideas for its reuse. They attracted support from King Mohammed VI and managed to register the slaughterhouses on Morocco's heritage list in 2003. Artist Georges Rousse started a project in one of the buildings later that year, and multidisciplinary cultural events soon appeared.


Source: Cinéma-Maroc

In 2008, Casablanca officials collaborated with officials from Amsterdam on a series of workshops dedicated to connections between industry and culture. Mayor Mohamed Sajid later authorized the architectural preservation society Casamémoire to manage the slaughterhouses with local artists, and they formed the Cultural Factory at the Slaughterhouses Association. Yet despite the Cultural Factory's status as a national heritage site and world-renowned center for the arts, it remains a piece of underfunded city property at risk of ruin and redevelopment. Casamémoire has been trying unsuccessfully to renew its lease, and when government officials began parking on the grounds last month it appeared to indicate a plan to reclaim the space.


Source: Telquel

The arts community mobilized rapidly via online and offline networks. Within 24 hours a petition campaign amassed 1,200 signatures and a "Save L'Batoir" page appeared on Facebook. Blogs and online forums were abuzz with indignation, and young designers created signs for the growing protest movement.


Source: Mehdi Ayache

Authorities eventually issued a statement explaining that the vehicles were there as a temporary measure to deal with overflow in their parking lots. City Council Vice President Ahmed Brija assured everyone that the 260 cars would eventually be removed, and they disappeared within the next two weeks.

A protest stencil reads, "The slaughterhouse is not a parking lot." Source: Zied Ben Cheikh

Supporters of the cultural space are nevertheless on edge, and an "Occupy L'Battoir" movement has emerged to keep the slaughterhouses dedicated to the arts. Despite the massive show of support, Aadel Essaadani — current president of the Cultural Factory — maintains that a longterm solution will require stronger political and financial commitment from the city government.

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Brasilia’s Uneven Development

by Jordi Sánchez-Cuenca

The city of Brasilia took shape on a relatively isolated plot of open land in 1956, becoming the capital of Brazil in 1960. The city was planned by Lucio Costa, winner of a competition called by President Juscelino Kubitschek to fulfill an 1891 constitutional mandate to move the capital from Rio de Janeiro to a location at the center of the country. Oscar Niemeyer was the principal architect, and Roberto Burle Marx was the principal landscape designer.


Bird- or airplane-like form of Brasilia, Brazil.


Original city plan by Lucio Costa. Source: Jader Resende

Brasilia was built according to plan, with few modifications. It is a modernist dream come true, a gigantic piece of land art. It is now one of UNESCO's World Heritage Sites, and the municipal government invests in keeping its monuments in good condition. Brasilia was designed for automobile transport, with no traffic lights and few sidewalks in the center. Avenues are massive to prevent traffic jams.


Southern wing of the city — satellite view (above) and perspective (below).


Source: Arqpoli Urbano

As with other planned cities, Brasilia grew larger than predicted. It is now surrounded by smaller cities and settlements that provide cheap labor for the wealthy capital. Urban growth in the periphery did not follow a modernist plan. Most of these residential areas grew through land speculation and informal construction.


High-income Lago Sul neighborhood in central Brasilia.


Low-income Sol Nascente neighborhood in Ceilândia, 26 kilometers west of the capital.

Brasilia has the highest per capita income of Brazil's major cities. Its social disparities are spatially divided, with a wealthy center and impoverished outskirts. In Sol Nascente — one of the country's largest informal settlements according to census data from the Brazilian Institute of Geography and Statistics — garbage collection, sewage and healthcare are severely limited. And, as in many cities around the world, government neglect gives rise to illegal land markets and associated mafia activity.

Brasilia's metropolitan area demonstrates perhaps the sharpest possible contrast between state-controlled wealth at the core and informal poverty on the periphery.

Credits: Satellite images from Google Earth.

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New Life for Empty Lots in Zaragoza

by Teresa García Alcaraz

"Esto no es un solar" (this is not a lot) is a participatory design project reanimating abandoned lots in Zaragoza, Spain. The municipal government started the project in 2009 to clean up the historic center and reduce unemployment. Lead architects Patrizia di Monte and Ignacio Grávalos Lacambra have focused on collaboration with neighborhood residents in generating and realizing ideas for each space.



The project has since expanded beyond the historic center to 28 sites throughout the city. Each repurposed lot has a number and is plotted on a map, linking it with the others. In all, they make up 42,000 square meters of space transformed into many different kinds of community gathering places.


Plot 1, an urban garden that includes benches and parking for bikes. Source: todo por la praxis

The lots have become playgrounds, parchís boards, gardens, small woods, volleyball pitches, pingpong sites, pétanque courts and resting places for the elderly. They are all free of charge and freely accessible to all.


Plot 5, a playground with a giant parchís board painted on the ground. Source: esto no es un solar

The name "this is not a lot" encourages people to imagine what can happen in each space, proposing new projects and creating places that they care about. Anyone can post comments and ideas on the program blog to communicate with others in the community. Over 50 organizations — including schools, neighborhood groups and cultural centers — have participated in the program.


Workers with T-shirts that create playful sentences. Source: esto no es un solar

While building and painting the sites, workers wear T-shirts that display a single word from the program name. Together the shirts form random sentences like "un solar no es un solar" (a lot is not a lot), "esto es" (this is) or "un solar no es esto" (a lot is not this). The work becomes a community event that encourages people to meet their neighbors and feel a sense of ownership over the site.

At the same time, the program has run into problems with longterm maintenance and doesn't appear to be providing substantial employment. But if the municipal government is able to sustain adequate support, "this is not a lot" should continue to improve in aligning urban development with the wishes of local residents.

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Book Review: ‘Modernism’s Populist Architect’

by Cristiana Strava


Source: W.W. Norton & Company

Despite a lifelong commitment to modernist architecture, Edward Durell Stone (1902-1978) is often associated with the movement away from modernism toward decorative and neoclassical styles. It is rare to find detailed studies on the ideas behind his transition from stark modernist buildings like the MoMA in New York City to the "Romantic Modernism" of buildings like the Kennedy Center in Washington, D.C. A recent book by architectural historian Mary Ann Hunting comprehensively addresses this transition.

In the introduction we learn of Stone's childhood in Arkansas, followed by his Beaux Arts architectural education and European travels, during which he found inspiration in the Bauhaus and early modernism. Hunting sheds light on Stone's close friendship with Frank Lloyd Wright, and traces his career from "pioneering experimentations" with middle-class housing to contentious use of decorative elements often labelled "kitsch."


The American Embassy chancery in New Delhi, 1956. Source: Discover Diplomacy

After Stone completed the famous American Embassy chancery in New Delhi and the United States Pavilion for the 1958 International Exposition in Brussels, he steadily became notorious both as a wayward modernist and as a heavy drinker. Indeed, much of Hunting's book reads as a thoroughly researched biography that oscillates between presenting Stone's work through the prism of his personal life and vice-versa.


Colliers Magazine House, 1936. Source: Triangle Modernist Houses

Hunting places Stone's architecture within the economic and political climate of his day and shows how iconic designs like the Colliers and Goodyear homes were aimed at introducing modernism to middle-class America. After the Great Depression, the federal government saw home ownership as key to political stability and economic prosperity. According to Hunting, Stone was a fervent believer in educating people about the potential in modern architecture for building better homes at lower costs. Through popular magazines such as Colliers and Ladies' Home Journal, he sold scaled-down designs based on his more expensive commissions for $3 apiece.


Stanford University Medical Center, 1959. Source: Dwell

Stone managed to design and build on a scale rare for his time, securing lucrative commissions from companies like PepsiCo, Tupperware and Levitt & Sons. At the same time, many of his postwar buildings — including the Stanford University Medical Center and the Gallery of Modern Art at 2 Columbus Circle in Manhattan (known as the "Lollipop Building") — drew criticism for excessive repetition and ornamentation.

What is most valuable in Hunting's book is its examination of relationships between American modernism and middle-class consumption. She points out, "Stone deserves a very special place in the history of modernism, not for formalistic or aesthetic reasons, but for his relationship to the culture and the times." Through her research, we discover how Stone's desire to see modernism embraced by the masses began to place his work at odds with the more austere tenets of the movement.

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Critical Activist Design: A Conversation with Quilian Riano

by Andrew Wade


Quilian Riano presenting at the Center for Architecture in New York. Source: DSGN AGNC

Quilian Riano is the founding principal of DSGN AGNC (Design Agency), a research and design practice that operates through critical activism. He also founded the project #whOWNSpace. His current research focuses on the implementation of flexible and hybrid designs within challenging, multi-layered contexts. He seeks to re-imagine the structure and scope of design process. Polis recently sat down with Quilian to discuss the role of critical activism in his work and that of other innovative design practices.

You’ve described your interests as rooted in expanding the role of design and the designer in larger social and political contexts. What distinctions do you make between "design" and "activist design?" What kind of value is generated in activist design that makes it a necessary mode of practice?

I think that process is key — by that I mean the process by which design is generated and created, but also thinking of the outcomes as continuous processes. Architects are accustomed to studying the physical context, but we want to expand our process to engage with the economic, political and social dynamics of the places where we work.


Site of La Union Housing Co-Op in Facatativa, Columbia. Source: DSGN AGNC

Let me be specific about what that means. In Facatativa, Colombia, we are working with La Union Housing Co-Op on the design of 50 houses. Through research and conversations in the community, we found that the case involved not just those 50 houses but also widespread privatization around the Facatativa's periphery. We learned that a global network driven by the flower industry and companies that produce greenhouses has been privatizing large sections of the city. These complex economic and political processes are just as integral to the project's context as the landscape around the 50 houses. In response, we've organized a variety of design interventions — workshops, posters, movies, etc. — that highlight these conditions and create tools to help the local community influence them.

As for design, we're identifying the players and actions needed to create a longterm plan for the wellbeing of the community. We're designing adaptable housing within a solid framework, which residents can improve upon over time. With the help of a local lawyer and politician, we're looking to intervene in the system through which Colombia subsidizes public housing. We plan to help collectivize loans both for housing and for small business that could occupy flexible space within each building.


La Union masterplan (above) and renderings (below). Source: DSGN AGNC






You began writing about "critical activism" in your thesis at the Harvard Graduate School of Design in 2008. How has your understanding of the term evolved, and what are its key elements today?

Critical activism in design practice involves continuously assessing the political landscape of each project and working with vulnerable populations to remove injustices and resolve problems that threaten their wellbeing. Since leaving the GSD, I have been working with urban activists to fine-tune the concept in theory and practice. We've been particularly inspired by the critique, ideas and action associated with socio-praxis. We're also interested in relational aesthetics, tactical media, gizmology and radical cartography.

Many socio-praxis groups are questioning the role of the designer and artist in a society with decentralized and complex power structures. To understand this, it is helpful to think about the differences between the protests in Egypt and Occupy Wall Street. In Egypt it was clear that there was a space — Tahrir Square — where protests would take place, and a person — Hosni Mubarak — who people would protest against. In the United States it is not as simple. The Occupy Wall Street movement is relegated to occupying a symbol, as many of the banks are no longer on Wall Street. However, would the movement be as effective if it was called Occupy Midtown Banks? Probably not.


Graphic by Quilian Riano, based on a photo by Paula Segal, to illustrate laws broken when the New York Police Department closed Zuccotti Park during the Occupy protests. Source: #whOWNSpace

It is also curious that the occupation is not happening in Washington, D.C. There is a tacit understanding that D.C. no longer has all the power. Our decentralized government and power structure have created a situation in which we no longer know who to protest against. So we are left with the symbol.

In this context, the designer can become an activist when he or she engages the complexity of our political and economic system to begin to create some clarity. This approach is particularly important when looking at the city. So critical activism is about finding complex socio-political urban systems, researching them fully, producing maps and other visual tools, and then intervening strategically. Critical activism is a way to apply real design thinking — not just exercises from the Ivory Tower — toward empowering marginalized communities.


Maps of Privately-Owned Public Space and other forms of public space in New York City, including the organizations with decision-making power over these areas. Source: #whOWNSpace

How did DSGN AGNC and #whOWNSpace come about, and what vision do you have for their future development?

We started DSGN AGNC as a way of exploring critical activism. The first action I took with DSGN AGNC was a trip to Colombia. This led to "A City in Search of Good Fortune," an article for Places Journal on Buenaventura, one of the most contested and militarized urban areas in Colombia. We also met with the group of 50 families that make up La Union in Facatativa. In both cities we were struck by the privatization and lack of public space around the peripheries. In Facatativa, for example, people had to use the parking lot of Carrefour, a French mega-store, for celebrations and other gatherings.

When the Wall Street occupation began, a large part of the story was the physical space — Zuccotti Park — and its status as a Privately-Owned Public Space (POPS). Through #whOWNSpace, which was inspired by Occupy Wall Street, we wanted to better understand how privatization has changed the city. Through our research we've found that POPS are often not as public as they should be according to established legal guidelines. At 60 Wall Street, a POPS located down the street from Zuccotti Park, there is a rule that says "no excessive use of space." These are the type of things we need to question. How public are these spaces, what type of rules are being enforced and are they legal?


A Privately-Owned Public Space at Chase Manhattan Plaza in Manhattan. Source: #whOWNSpace

Ultimately, we see #whOWNSpace as a way to advocate for and produce urban spaces that are truly public. To us this means that space accommodates multiple uses, encouraging people to talk to their neighbors and find mutual understanding around political, economic and social issues — crucial preparation for collective action when needed.

Working on international projects, it can be easy to fall into the stereotypical role of self-ordained savior of the poor, present for a period of time, after which it is difficult to follow up and assure sustainable results. How do you approach design projects in other parts of the world when it is so challenging to gain a thorough understanding of the local context and enact meaningful, longterm change?

This is a hard question, but one that is important to address if the renewed interest in this type of work is to be sustainable — and, by the way, we do not claim to have THE answer. An approach that has been working for us is a combination of being there as much as possible, doing a lot of critical research, having strong partners on the ground and getting input from final users during the entire process. We also work to create designs that can be modified over time as community and ecological conditions change. Above all, it's about showing respect for the community you work with (in any location), understanding that you can't possibly have all the answers and bringing as many people into the process as possible.


A "Casas de la Esperanza" dwelling in La Prusia, Nicaragua. Source: DSGN AGNC

The project for a housing community in La Prusia, Nicaragua, has worked this way in collaboration with Estudio Teddy Cruz, landscape architect Simon Bussiere and the community group Casas de la Esperanza (Houses of Hope). We began with a series of visits that led to a simple, rule-based, flexible masterplan. We have since worked with local architects, community groups and residents to apply these rules according to conditions on the ground. The community has built 10 houses using our flexible masterplan and will build more as additional funds become available.

Who are some of the people and organizations whose work you admire?

There are many artists and architects experimenting with socio-praxis and political activism that I admire. Inspiring design practices include Recetas Urbanas, Not An Alternative, Jeanne Van Heeswijk, Estudio Teddy Cruz, Sorkin Studio and Cohabitation Strategies. Immigrant Movement International, commissioned by the Queens Museum of Art, is redefining the role of museums in urban neighborhoods. There are also community groups like CAAAV, Picture the Homeless and Organizing for Occupation, which for many years have been doing the hard work of organizing communities for action. These initiatives give us confidence in the effectiveness of integrating critical activism and design to bring about positive social change.

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Three Questions: Michael Murphy of MASS Design

by Andrew Wade

As part of the Polis Three Questions series, we interviewed Michael Murphy, executive director and co-founder of MASS Design Group. The not-for-profit firm's design for Butaro Hospital in Rwanda was a poetic argument for the merging of design and public health. Motivated by the idea that "Design is never neutral — it either helps or it hurts," MASS worked with Partners in Health on the project, which aims to mitigate the transmission of airborne disease. By approaching design holistically and seeking to make use of local materials and empower local communities, MASS demonstrates the potential social impact of design.


Butaro Hospital in Rwanda.

Can you tell us what you're particularly excited to be working on at the moment, and what lies ahead for you?

We have been working on a few projects in Haiti since a year after the earthquake that are exciting on several levels — both for the growth they bring to MASS as an organization and for their impact in community health. In particular, we have a center for cholera treatment currently under construction that continues our research in identifying the "direct" impacts of the built environment on our health. We have seen evidence of the incubation and transmission of tuberculosis due to poorly designed buildings, but cholera is really about a failed sanitary system — one that once infected can perpetuate outbreaks. To combat infection, our new cholera center will offer a micro-solution to wastewater treatment on site. We hope this inspires a dialogue about investment in better buildings and infrastructure as a health argument.

Also on the horizon in the coming year, we will be starting a few projects in southern Uganda which seek to address the problem of "brain drain," combating the large-scale emigration of skill capacity.


GHESKIO Cholera Treatment Center, during construction.


Rendering of the GHESKIO Tuberculosis Hospital.

What do you consider the most pressing issues we face as a society today, and how should we go about addressing them?

I think it’s becoming publicly evident that our poorly constructed built environment is an urgent and growing concern. As seen in rising sea levels, in Haiti’s 2010 earthquake, and most recently during Hurricane Sandy, cities are not built to absorb change and catastrophe. Buildings shouldn't exist simply as commodities; they need to be rethought and redesigned in such a way that keeps the residents’ health and safety in mind. The only way to achieve this is to invest more heavily in design research and in our infrastructure at both the local and national level. Our design schools need to reprioritize their emphasis, and new practice models need to be sponsored to offer market solutions to this serious global crisis.

What do you find inspiring?

I am inspired by entrepreneurs, tinkerers, designers who find a way to innovate within the calcified systems, while also maintaining a perspective of the entire system itself. I'm inspired by health innovators like Dr. Raj Panjabi of Tiyatien Health in Liberia and Josh Nesbit at Medic Mobile — both of whom are making a really incredible impact on public health.

I also met an amazing actor, Bryan Doerries, who runs an organization called Theater of War. He uses classical plays to help communities cope with tragedy and disaster, and his method of effecting change is completely unique.

I am in awe of material scientists and building experts like John Ochsendorf, and altruistic curators like Courtney Martin and John Cary inspire me daily with their belief in the sharing of ideas with the public. We all owe them a lot.

In terms of design and architecture, I have been in awe of TAM Associati in Italy, the genius of Francis Kéré and the work of TYIN in Norway.

Credits: Images from MASS Design.

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Rebuilding Community Heritage

by Anna Fogel


47th Street in Sunnyside Gardens, Queens. Source: QueensNYC

Emily Goldman is a preservationist and doctoral student in historic preservation at Cornell University. After completing her undergraduate studies in history at Harvard University, Emily pursued a master's in preservation planning at Cornell, working intensively on post-Katrina recovery in New Orleans. Her thesis focused on Sunnyside Gardens, a housing community (once home to Lewis Mumford) in Queens designed by Clarence Stein during the 1920s. Emily then worked for the Landmarks Preservation Commission in New York City, where she helped with Sunnyside's transition to a local historic district. Her current research is centered on Hillside Homes, a Stein community in the Bronx. She's exploring its cultural significance for the people who live there, along with lessons this holds for urban housing and preservation in other parts of the world. We're very grateful that she made time for an interview.


A Sunnyside community garden in 1926. Source: Astoria History

What sparked your interest in historic preservation?

I've always been drawn to history through hands-on contact with the built environment. Two international experiences in high school stand out: an archaeological dig in Greece and a masonry restoration project for a medieval church in France. During college I took part in two trips to the American South with a great professor, Tim McCarthy, to help rebuild churches damaged in racially motivated arson attacks. This experience highlighted the value of buildings in community resilience.


Rebuilding the Hayneville Church of Christ after an arson attack. Source: Harvard Gazette

How do you see the preservation of cultural heritage benefiting cities?

Although once considered almost a luxury, historic preservation has gained a lot of influence over the years and is now generally recognized as integral to urban governance. Many cities have preservation commissions that regulate all local landmarks, preventing demolition, overdevelopment and significant exterior changes. While this can seem like minutia, the larger concept is vital.


A historic brownstone in Brooklyn's Park Slope neighborhood. Source: New York Times

Historic buildings give local communities and visitors a quiet sense of history and continuity. In our rapidly changing world, especially in urban areas, it can be comforting to find structures that have endured for centuries. The beauty that comes with age and craftsmanship cannot be replicated.

Can you share some examples of impressive work in historic preservation?

Source: Treehugger

Ann Arbor's Historic District Commission has approved the installation of cobalt blue solar panels covering the gabled roof of a Victorian house. This is a great indicator of preservationists becoming more flexible when it comes to the greater public and environmental good. New Orleans residents have been working hard to restore and preserve the city's heritage after Katrina. When a historic section of Mid-City was selected as the site for a new V.A. hospital, the New Orleans Historic District Landmarks Commission along with New Orleans Area Habitat for Humanity and other supporters were able to save most of the significant architectural elements from hundreds of houses slated for demolition; now some can be rebuilt and parts reused elsewhere. Important preservation initiatives are happening all over the world, and for so many different reasons.


A building reconstructed after an earthquake in Bhadli, India. Source: ArchNet

Are there any international initiatives that particularly stand out?

Mary Norman Woods recently collaborated with Brinda Somaya, an inspiring architect from Mumbai, in helping the village of Bhadli rebuild after an earthquake. They worked directly with the villagers to reconstruct buildings, including original decorations, and Somaya donated materials like clay, paint, lime and mirror shards. This strikes me as a good example of international partnership. I'm also impressed with He Shuzhong and the Beijing Cultural Heritage Protection Center, as it's especially challenging to preserve the built environment in China's current political and economic climate.


Preservationist He Shuzhong (left) with a resident of Menglian, China. Source: The Beijinger

What are you most excited about working on at the moment?

I'm working on a project at Hillside Homes, the third garden community designed by Clarence Stein in New York City (the other two — Sunnyside and Phipps Garden — are next to each other in Queens).


Phipps Garden Apartments in Queens. Source: A. Richard Miller


A model of Hillside Homes in the Bronx. Source: "Toward New Towns for America"

Hillside was built in 1934 as low-income housing with durable brick architecture, built-in community amenities and interior courtyards. It has been revitalized by management and residents since its days as a haven for drug dealers in the 1980s. At the same time, there is room for improvements based on the original design that could make the development more comfortable and attractive. I'll be talking with residents in detail to understand how the place is working for them today. It's currently not a designated landmark but there's a good chance that it will be some day. I'd like to help ensure that, if formal preservation occurs, it is a positive change for the people who live there.

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Architects and Planners as Mediators in Housing Relocation

by Teresa García Alcaraz


Residents of the barrio "Los Altos la Cruz" and a group of architects and urbanists working on a project in Caracas, Venezuela. Source: Teresa García Alcaraz

For years, architects and urban planners have worked on ideas to reduce poverty. These ideas are presented to a client — usually a local authority — with the power to realize and regulate the project. Many designers try to interpret the needs of millions of poor people while working from wealthy areas. Their ideas turn into fabulous designs that convert parts of the uncontrollable city into momentary illusions of control. But what happens to the people who have to live in the buildings they design?

Local authorities talk about the urban economy and believe that the more investment in social housing, the better for the urban poor. But the reality is that the majority of projects do not respond effectively to people's needs.


Ciudad Caribia, a housing resettlement plan in Venezuela. Source: Luis Hernández

Ciudad Caribia is a new model city being built in Venezuela. The plan includes thousands of new homes as well as communal buildings, parks and access roads. Authorities plan to resettle shanty-dwellers into this formal "slum free" development.

Over 800 families were resettled to a new and isolated development in Campo Grande, Brasil. Although living conditions improved, there remains a lack of public recreational space and other amenities in the area.

Local authorities try to find land in the periphery with value commensurate with the income of future residents. There is not enough attention to the social diversity, internal community systems or social networks of the people who are resettled. Thus, it isn't surprising that these processes normally fail.


Community leaders of different barrios in Caracas presenting their ideas about a future masterplan that will affect their area. Architects and government representatives listened to their proposals and discussed their solutions. Source: Teresa García Alcaraz

Resettlements face problems with communication and cooperation. Authorities find that residents will not collaborate. But is participation actually feasible for them?

Architects and planners can act as mediators, rather than technicians. Although many professionals refrain from criticizing local authorities, it is essential for designers to demand practical mechanisms for resident participation in housing plans.

Teresa García Alcaraz is an architect with a focus on community planning in informal settlements. She is a member of L.P.U., and author of Archithoughts.

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Retrofitting a Rocky Mountain Metropolis

by Alex Schafran

Denver hasn't featured very prominently on Polis over the years — a fact that would surprise few people in Denver. The city is not particularly sexy for globally-minded urbanists, lacking the wealth, power, abandonment, history, controversy, architectural patrimony, cosmopolitanism, proximity to disaster or cultural relevance that seem to mark cities in our metropolitan psyches.

While "J.R." and "Dallas" etched the image of a Texas metropolis in the minds of global TV audiences, few remember that the equally popular "Dynasty" took place in Denver. To add insult to injury, perhaps the most memorable film based in the Mile High City is the aptly named Andy Garcia classic "Things to Do in Denver When You're Dead." At least there is John Denver, who took the name as an ode to the city and the state of Colorado on his way to becoming a folk legend.


Rail and bus extension map for Denver and the surrounding region. Source: FasTracks

Yet this city of roughly 620,000 people, and its surrounding region of close to two million, is quietly engaging in one of the most fascinating regional retrofitting projects in U.S. history. The effort is centered around the FasTracks project, a major expansion of regional mass transit that will eventually bring 122 miles of new commuter and light rail, along with 18 miles of bus rapid transit, to eight counties and more than two dozen suburban cities. All this new transit, some of which is scheduled to open next year, has in turn spurred numerous smaller planning efforts throughout the region — efforts to build transit-oriented development and otherwise take advantage of the opportunities provided by new nodes in what will suddenly be a regional mass-transit system.


A single-family home in Englewood. Source: Alex Schafran

Denver is, in many ways, the prototypical 20th-century American city — a "city of homes" (as the urban historian Carl Abbott deemed it), a fragmented and sprawling metropolis where the single-family home dominates land use. Downtown Denver is one of the most enduring examples of City Beautiful architecture in the U.S., and some of its historic neighborhoods retain the gridded flavor of Craftsmen homes along former streetcar boulevards, but most of the region is a phenomenally extensive grid of interlocking municipalities, some of which — like Aurora — occupy space in three different counties.


Denver is the light blue swath that cuts diagonally across the municipalities in Colorado's Northern Front Range. Source: Ken Schroeppel

The map above, created by Denver planning savant and University of Colorado, Denver Planning Instructor Ken Schroeppel (whose twin blogs, Denver Infill and Denver Urbanism, offer the most comprehensive information I've seen on urban development in an American city), shows the mindblowing political fragmentation in the Denver region. Not only is it primarily made up of automobile-dependent sprawl, but its "home-rule" municipalities have been incredibly aggressive in expanding and defending their turf.

The history of incorporation and annexation is like a municipal game of Risk, with the rewards being tax base and territory. Aurora, the big yellow splotch just east of Denver, is now more than half the size of its more famous neighbor, and prefers to call the region the "Aurora-Denver metro area." Given the unprecedented cooperation between rival municipalities needed to complete the lengthy planning process, as well as the popular vote across eight counties to raise tax revenue in libertarian Colorado, we have to think of FasTracks as a borderline miracle in American planning.


Homes in Stapleton. Source: Alex Schafran

Just as fascinating are the smaller initiatives emerging throughout the region, both independent of and because of FasTracks. Residential development in downtown Denver is booming, especially around Union Station, where the center of the system will be, bringing both excitement and concerns about gentrification. The project will connect the downtown to the Stapleton Airport redevelopment, one of the largest New Urbanist projects in history and an interesting case study in its own right.


An A.D.U. in Arvada, within walking distance of a future light-rail station. Source: Alex Schafran

But it is the possibility of suburban transformation that will determine whether FasTrack is simply a transit system that makes Denver better, or part of the retrofit of an entire region. One idea that has been growing in popularity among suburban municipalities (especially in Arvada and Golden), is the development of Accessory Dwelling Units (A.D.U.) — also known as granny flats or in-law units — on the grounds of single-family homes. Along similar lines, suburbs like Wheatridge are seriously considering densification that would have been impossible years ago.

Ellen Duham-Jones and June Williamson's idea of suburban retrofit is one of my favorite in contemporary urbanism, but it is an idea that we need to extend to urban and regional scales. Physical and design interventions in the fabric of an aging suburbia are certainly important, but their long-term ability to produce a more sustainable and equitable metropolis depends on their integration with regional mobility, governance and employment. They require healthier relationships between cities and suburbs. There is still much to be done in Denver, and in Aurora, Arvada, Lakewood, Englewood and Wheatridge; but perhaps one day they will be famous as the first to reinvent the structure of the American region.



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Three Questions: Cassim Shepard of Urban Omnibus

by Andrew Wade

As part of the Polis Three Questions series, we present an interview with Cassim Shepard, editor of Urban Omnibus, Adjunct Assistant Professor of Architecture at Columbia University and Poiesis Fellow at the Institute for Public Knowledge at New York University.


"Goregaon Railway Bridge," part three of Shepard's five-part series on street life in Mumbai.

Trained in filmmaking, urban geography and city planning, Shepard also produces non-fiction media about cities, buildings and places. He has exhibited his films at museums in Québec, Bologna, Milan, Portland and St. Louis, as well as at the 2006 Venice Architecture Biennale and the United Nations. His most recent video project, "Informal Urbanisms," chronicled life in six informal settlements around the world for the Cooper-Hewitt exhibition "Design with the Other 90%: CITIES."

Thank you for making time to answer our questions. Can you tell us about what you're particularly excited to be working on now, and what lies ahead for you?

For the past four years, I've been very fortunate to edit Urban Omnibus, The Architectural League of New York's online publication dedicated to defining and enriching the culture of citymaking. We present innovative projects in and perspectives on the built environment of New York City, essentially new or exemplary ways of interpreting or intervening in the urban landscape. So, what's particularly exciting for me is the opportunity to talk to creative thinkers in a wide range of disciplines — architects, urban planners, artists, community activists, city government officials, scholars, engaged citizens — and then to help connect the diverse ways people are acting locally to improve their city or neighborhood to a broader, international discourse of urbanism.


Aerial view of the Brooklyn Navy Yard, by Robert Clark. Source: Urban Omnibus

What does improving the experience of a waiting room in a central courthouse have to do with national shifts in the philosophy of the criminal justice system? What might the plans for a former shipbuilding facility on the Brooklyn waterfront teach us about how to encourage a sensible, 21st-century manufacturing policy for this country? How can the adventures of a thrill-seeking sewer diver inform our understanding of complex urban hydrological systems? I never get tired of thinking about those kinds of connections across different scales.

For me, this fits into a broader project that's motivated, in one way or another, every project I've been working on since I first started taking pictures in high school: trying to share my sense of awe at all the intentional choices that go into making human-made environments work, and trying to tease out how the accretion of those choices over time reflects particular cultural attitudes.


Video stills from Shepard's "Montage City" course at Columbia. Source: Urban Omnibus

After studying filmmaking in college, I spent several years making documentaries and video installations internationally with a couple pauses to study urban geography and urban planning. So after seven years living in many different places around the world and trying to tell many different kinds of stories audio-visually, I was very excited to take on something like Urban Omnibus that allowed me to explore one city, and its dense concentration of creative urbanists, in great depth.


"Shanghai" video montage by Shepard for the Venice Architecture Biennale 2006.

Now I think the time has come to continue and advance the work of connecting what's going on here in this city to what's happening elsewhere in the world. Discovering ways that cities — especially city governments, but also community-based organizations, consultancies, and non-profit organizations — can learn from each other's experiments and failures is a more complex challenge than it might seem. I'm interested in the role that sophisticated communication can play, whether it's high-quality journalism, visual art, online media, exchange programs for students as well as policymakers, or good old-fashioned storytelling.

What do you consider the most pressing issues we face as a society today, and how should we go about addressing them?

In a phrase: climate change. But naming that as an urgent challenge doesn't get us very far. Because it's not really one challenge, but a series of overlapping ones that include consumption habits, settlement patterns, energy production and distribution, infrastructure investment, manufacturing and supply chains — the list goes on.


Lower Manhattan on October 29, 2012, by Eric Chang. Source: Urban Omnibus

In the immediate aftermath of Superstorm Sandy last week, my colleague Varick Shute and I offered some thoughts to our readers that touched on the "new reality" of climate change in terms of infrastructure investment and scales of government. Climate change is so big and so planetary in scale that the role of the community is often obscured. We know what we're told as individuals about lightbulbs or gas mileage or plastic bags, and we know what we hope for from nation-states about carbon emissions standards or energy production. But the urban and community scales are a little harder to define in the climate-crisis conversation.

I'm especially interested in those infrastructural innovations that will bring greater flexibility and resilience to our urban environments and help to mitigate some of the effects of rising sea levels and stronger storms. As one example: retrofitting our impervious streetscape with permeable paving to absorb some of the stormwater flooding down our streets and off our rooftops, which overwhelms sewage systems. If federal governments aren't going to step up with coherent climate change policies, how can municipal governments leverage their unique assets — whether it's municipal infrastructure or an engaged citizenry — to make change?


"Archipelago," by Urban Omnibus, explores a day in the life of five New York neighborhoods.

What do you find inspiring?

Taking the subway from Brooklyn over the Manhattan Bridge every morning never ceases to amaze me. What I love most about living in a dense city like New York is the forced proximity to people unlike myself, with such different life experiences, cultures and perspectives. So I find the systems we've created for such a diverse group of people to share, to hold in common, pretty awe-inspiring for a number of reasons. And at the moment in my daily commute when the train comes out of the tunnel, somehow I always (no matter how late or preoccupied I might be) marvel simultaneously at the sociological story unfolding in my subway car, the infrastructural story of the subway system and the bridge, the natural story of the river and the shoreline, and the architectural story of Lower Manhattan's skyline. For me, thinking about how it got to be that way — and how it might work just a little bit better — really never gets old.

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