Life on the Streets

In Death & Life of Great American Cities, Jane Jacobs praises the humble pavement: its place in the city, she argues, is crucial to thriving urban life. Or, put another way, disregard for the cultural value of the pavement (and by extension the street) is profoundly damaging to cities.

That 20^th Century urban planners looked to parkland as the ‘lungs of a city’ is to miss an oppertunity, she says, claiming that the isolation and often over-prescriptive design of a park does little to nurture ordinary city life. Given that many of us will be able to cite bleak urban parks, which often feel threatening to walk through, there is much in Jacobs’ argument to find convincing.

A recent trip to Porto attests to the fact that urban leisure and social exchange can successfully take place on the pavement. As one of the oldest cities in Europe, Porto is accordingly made up of small winding streets punctured by little informal squares or crossroads; the city is also built on the precipitous rocky banks of the Douro river estuary. Two factors that leave little opportunity for large public parks.

However, rather than discourage vibrant city life, these restrictions result in a city with intense civic culture, focussed on the pavement. Many factors influence this liveliness, not least the climate; however, it is worth remembering Danish cities such as Copenhagen or Aarhus demonstrate that cold weather does not necessarily discourage healthy street culture. So what other ingredients in Porto contribute its successful street life?

To begin with, Porto is relatively compact and dense: approximately 5200 inhabitants per kilometre. Physically, this is embodied in tightly packed streets with small shops at street level and apartments above. Street fronts are active, creating direct supervision of the street from the home, shop or café; and vice versa too of course.  What’s more, buildings generally house a diverse population: families, couples, the elderly, children, as well as tourists. This results in busy streets throughout any given day, which in turn makes what could otherwise be dark canyons, feel safe and inviting.

However, where feasible, pavements have been as generously sized as possible (especially when considered in relation to the city’s dense grain). Cafes and restaurants invariably extend into these pavements: at one end as grandiose and permanent fixtures and, at the other end, just as a few plastic chairs or a bench perhaps.

Street life is also encouraged at municipal level. The surface finish of most large pavements is treated as one might a building’s elevation: that is, with careful consideration for material and detail. And in implying such respect, the status of the pavement is raised to that of a genuine civic environment.

But what of transferability to the UK? Ultimately it is hard to reverse prevailing trends and policy. Central government, for example, is currently driving the creation of suburban ‘garden cities’; and in many major cities there is a move towards privatised ‘quarters’ and ‘villages’, be they covered (as in Westfield) or open air (as in Liverpool One). Ultimately, a regressive move evoking the zoning principals of 20^th Century urban planning.

Neither of these moves is likely to encourage unplanned social activities or facilitate the passive supervision that the occupants of a street in Porto might naturally provide. Nor are the owners of malls likely to look favourably on the unauthorised ownership of streets by little plastic chairs. Shame really – it’s our loss.

Stuart McKenzie 2014

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Reflections

Much of London has been patently affected by the economic recession: boarded up high streets and part-finished building sites are constant reminders of this phenomenon.  However, turning west along the canal at Westbourne Park, a long forgotten industrial hinterland is an even more poignant reminder of a different kind of prosperity long neglected.

Abandoned industrial buildings address the water’s edge. The oldest, built to accommodate the unloading of freight barges, are now long-since obsolete by centuries of merciless change. Firstly, the creation of the railway network and then high-speed motorways; now just simply by an unsympathetic post-industrial society.

Nonetheless, it’s hard to imagine that today’s portal-framed distribution centres, built efficiently out of metallic sheets at the slip roads of motorways, would present such a poetic backdrop to an afternoon walk.

Stuart McKenzie

Mews-ings

Doughty Mews is a surprising urban refuge, which provides a quiet pause from the restlessness of London. First seen through a narrow gap on Guilford Street opposite Coram’s Field, it attracts the curiosity of many wandering tourists as they explore the remnants of Georgian Bloomsbury.

The once crisp brickwork of the walls has acquired the patina of centuries of industry. Now, climbing ivy, wisteria and trees not native to this country adorn the resolutely functional brick facades with a complete disregard for party wall boundaries. At No. 23 an olive tree directs our attention towards the roof tops and the densely planted private terraces of the new occupants above.

When the grand town houses of the adjacent Doughty Street and Millman Street were home to the affluent Georgians, the two storey buildings of this mews were home to their stable-boys and horses. With the relentless growth of the City the town houses, which the Mews once served, are now occupied by prestigious law firms who can afford the rents demanded by central London office space. Consequently the Mews is now occupied by a new generation of urban dwellers with (perhaps) a more ‘European’ attitude towards inner city living.

Through conservation and adaptation the mews is now a rich palimpsest of the past. Although the original stabling function of the buildings is evident in many of the door openings, the majority of the buildings have been comprehensively converted. Through large glass openings, modern urbane interiors can be glimpsed. Indeed, this reworking of the mews building stock is a reflection of contemporary London; the ‘modern’ and the ‘traditional’ cooperating to produce an environment that compliments the overall grain of the City.

The mews is a cul-de-sac. It is approximately six metres in width with the doors and windows of the various buildings all fronting onto the street. Privacy is preserved by this closeness and the curious only dare sneak a quick peak on their journey, almost too embarrassed to linger for fear of intruding. This is a model of urban living where privacy is maintained through an unwritten social contract based on respect.

Doughty Mews provides respite to the hectic pace of the city. It is a peaceful moment defined by the buildings, the character of the street and an understanding between the occupants and the passer-by. Without the tacit agreement of the various players spaces such as the Mews become gated communities.