Fin.

Ahhh, deep breath. An amazing and grueling summer sets this weekend with the boys imminent return to school. This has been arguably the most hectic 3-month period in my life (in a virtual dead heat with the fall of 2002). Here are some highlights of the past few months: I traveled to Iowa twice, Florida twice, and Montgomery three times, my grandmother died, my wife had surgery and a subsequent July 4th trip to the emergency room (she’s back to normal now), I had an endoscopy, I finished design and drawings for a house in North Chattanooga, I pulled together the Design Studio Retrospective, my wife bought a new car when I wasn’t looking, I took the family on vacation, and last week I whisked boys away for our first trip to The Lost Sea in Sweetwater, TN. Over the course of the summer, however, most of my attention has been devoted to the Urban Design Challenge.

Some of us were more excited than others.

In the spring of 2011 in celebration of their 25th year in business and on the heels of projects that shall not be named, River City Company endeavored to undertake a public process to re-energize the community conversation about downtown. When we were brought on to help craft this yearlong “something” there was no way of knowing the impact that the process would have. I had a gut feeling that there was pent up demand for a community discourse on urban design issues- the first couple of months of this blog hinted at that. If you would have told me then, however, that we would get more than 200 people at each of the presentations I doubt I would have believed it.

If the goal of the Urban Design Challenge was to re-energize the conversation regarding urbanism and design, then the process can only be considered an overwhelming success. Hundreds, if not thousand of people have participated in the process- in the flesh. The in-person, on-site nature of the UDC was not an accident, it was very much by design. The decision was made that a robust and energetic conversation could best be established by convening those concerned in the same place to socialize with one another and to have the shared experiences of each of the presentations. There is no doubt that digital augmentation of real-world events is a powerful tool that is here to stay. It is my firm belief, however, that people putting forth the effort to attend an event with others who have made a similar commitment creates stronger bonds. Indeed, the defining characteristic of the UDC was the almost palpable level of energy and excitement at each of the presentations- these were no mere public meetings.

(Massive shout out to Brad Shelton at Accendo Studio for his
great photography through the UDC Process)

Beyond that, the Challenge was designed to propose visions and spark conversation, not necessarily to impact real-world projects. The process, however, has done just that. The most obvious example of real-world influence is the US-27 project. Who knows how that will eventually play out, but the fact that a small band of architects and interested citizens can influence an $80 million State transportation project is nothing short of amazing. Beyond that, word on the street is that UDC proposals have influenced potential developments at 700 Block, the Haney Block, The John Ross Building, the chicken plant and Patten Parkway. Of course, only time will tell what impact the UDC work will have on the city, but my hunch is that we’ll look back at this as a watershed moment as it relates to how we build the city.

Frankly, I have been jealous throughout the process. My friends and colleagues got the opportunity to put teams together and perform the work of the challenge, while I was stuck holding a microphone. While not being able to perform the work was difficult, it has been great fun to serve as a liaison with each of the teams and get to see the behind the scenes work from each of the teams. Without exception, the teams produced top shelf work. It is truly remarkable to see what these teams of architects produced. They were given BLANK SLATES and rather to go the stereotypical route of creating signature architectural statements, every team produced a work of urban design that focused on the public realm. The work is a credit to our professional community.

The Urban Design Challenge is the most fun and fulfilling public project I’ve had a chance to be associated with. By any metric, River City Company’s Urban Design Challenge has been an unqualified success. If you’ve made it out to any of the presentations, you know of what I speak. If you’ve missed them, you can catch up on content at http://www.urbandesignchallenge.com. We all have one last event to attend- The Grand Finale. Thursday night at 5:30 at Track 29 our thirteen-month odyssey comes to a close. I greatly anticipate the week’s festivities, however, I will be gutted to see it end.

Napoleon Complex

Well friends, I’ve been a bad, bad blogger and let another week pass. You find me this week at Seagrove Beach on a much-needed vacation. It is a great joy to bring my family back to the place I vacationed when I was but a young C.Rush. Although it is great fun for me, I suspect that the boys are tired of hearing me describe the battlefield of the Great Bottle Rocket Battle of 19 and '82, and are weary of listening to the story of the time I busted ass on the diving board, knocked myself out and my dad had to save me from drowning (which, I suppose, is to his credit).

Long-time readers of the blog will recognize this as the time of year that I typically get off on a Seaside/New Urbanist tangent.  Well, here we go again. The last few months I've been having an internal debate about ideal ways of creating density. Of course, there is no right or wrong answer to the question and the answer ultimately depends on context, but it's been fun to think about. 

Underlying the question is the fundamental recognition of the importance of density. I write often about the fact that density is part of the DNA of downtown and a fundamental condition for the functioning of a healthy city core. Accommodating more people and activity on any given square foot of land downtown means that land elsewhere can be given over to farmland, recreation or conservation. People and activity in close proximity also make pedestrianism a viable option. Walking, of course being the most preferable means of human transportation- it requires no machine storage (parking lots, bike racks, etc), no fossil fuel consumption, and minimal land for circulation (no roads, airports, train stations, etc). Walking, of course, has its limitations, but the denser a place is with essential activities of life, the more sense it makes.

The question concerns the best way to establish density- on one end of the spectrum is the modernist notion of the tower in a park, on the other end is a district of multiple structures of (more or less) uniform height.

The tower is an obvious way to establish density from a dwelling unit per acre standpoint- a small footprint is established, then units are stacked atop one another until the laws of physics or finance intervene. I’ve been enamored with this concept from the first time I saw Mies’ and Corbu’s drawings in architecture school- beautiful, simple, awe-inspiring buildings where people could live, work and be entertained. The footprint of the towers was small (in Corbu’s case miniscule due to his use of pilotis), which meant that the natural landscape around the tower could remain virtually untouched. This was a profound and beautiful response to the often-appalling conditions of the inner city after the industrial revolution.

Another attempt at making a city more sanitary and liveable was undertaken in Paris. The Second Empire reforms of Napoleon III and Baron Haussmann were aimed at modernizing what was still, in essence, a medieval city. Among the myriad initiatives were improvements in infrastructure and public space and implementation of the straight, wide(r), streets that city is known for, and a building height limit of about 60 feet. There are a thousand different aspects of that work that could be analyzed, but for the purposes of this post, let’s leave it at building height restriction. I find it quite remarkable that a city of millions can be built with a 60’ height limit- and that the same is on the short list of the greatest cities in human history.

So, you might ask, what the hell has this to do with Seaside? Let me go mix another tequila and I’ll make the connection after the jump...

Tower.

Not a tower.

From where I sit, I can look off to the east and see several towers- primarily residential, but with some mixed-use components. Off to the west I can discern the silhouettes of the Seaside pavilions. Both of these places are dense, however, they achieve this density in markedly different ways. The towers...are towers, while Seaside is a clustered village of similarly-scaled buildings of 2-4 stories. Having driven past the towers in the past, they look like nice and well-maintained, but do not look a likely candidate for shopping, dining, or people-watching. Seaside, on the other hand, is well known for its exuberant street-life. Perhaps this is not a fair comparison, since I’ve cherry-picked the examples from my beach chair. The example does, however, underscore a point that Ricard Florida toyed with a couple of weeks ago (on Christian-mas, no less). That point is that density can be a dual edged sword. Density, if properly executed, will result in rich and rewarding built environments that contribute mightily to quality of life and economic development. Density, if not properly executed, results in vapid, monotonous developments whose only benefit over the sub-urb is that it uses less land.

In my estimation, the ideal height for development in our downtown is about four stories.  This uniform, moderate height would provide a more fertile ground for social interaction,  increase opportunity for broad economic development, increase land value and result in more efficient buildings. If I were to advocate for design guidelines (which I do not), I would set a height limit at five stories. Less than five stories is too onerous and more than five negates the advantages outlined above. I think the next step for downtown is to generate the type of across the board density that would make more retail development feasible (I'm not talking boutique shoe stores for the tourists, I'm talking convenience store, theater, grocery store, laundry, bodega, restaurant, bar- all of the little things that make it possible to live, work and play in the city). The towers we have are fine, they serve a purpose for our city and I hope they do well. The city has other needs, however, that can be met in other ways. I'm not sure that I'm any closer to figuring our which of the philosophical alternatives I prefer for increasing density, but in our current situation, it seems that the city would benefit from a general and uniform densification.

Sincerest apologies for the ramble, but the Florida sun has addled my meager brain, and as you know I’m a bit out of practice. I’m back in the saddle now and with any luck the weekly routine is hereby reestablished.

Back at it

Friends, I offer my sincerest apologies for missing the past couple of weeks. I tried to try to keep it rolling, but had a couple of projects that conspired to steal my writing time. Things are settling down a bit, so I’m back at it. For the record, I’m bailing on the Pink Floyd tribute, for now (if you have a serious problem with that let me know and I’ll reconsider).

As you may know, the big project I’ve been working is the Design Studio Retrospective. (If you don't know, now you know, know, know, know). The Retrospective takes a look back at more than 20 years of urban design and visioning for downtown Chattanooga. Over the spring and summer of this year, I canvassed the community and reached out to studio alums to assemble as much of the work that the studio produced as possible. The primary product of that effort is an online archive. The secondary product is an exhibition of outstanding examples of the work that is being put on display in my favorite building. The exhibition follows the work of the Studio as it progressed from general downtown structure studies to work on some of Chattanooga’s most beloved places. The exhibition also features an interactive connection to the complete archive of work. The website is now live and can be found at www.chattanoogastudio.com. If you're not from 'round here, be sure to go to the "retrospective" page and download the ibook for you iphone or ipad- it's almost good as being there. If you are from here, you can still download it, but you have no reason for not actually being there.

One of the things that Stroud taught was that all of our work should “respect the past, reinforce the present and predict a future. By its nature a retrospective is a look back at something that happened in the past- I had that part covered. One of the things I struggled with during the process was how to make a retrospective relevant to the present and pertinent to the future. I really believe that what has been put together is more than simply a history project.

If we consider the present in regard to urbanism and design in our community, the big deal going is River City Company’s Urban Design Challenge. The overwhelming support of and participation in the process is evidence that the community values civic dialogue on issues of urbanism and design. It seems to me that the retrospective could be considered a 20 year long urban Design Challenge with hundreds of team members and all of downtown as the site. Chattanooga has been incredibly fortunate to have had an influx of young (and not so young) creative and engaged transplants over the past decade or so. Due to the ignoble demise of the Studio, many of our new neighbors have no clue about the high level of work that was necessary to create the city that we enjoy today. In those regards, the retrospective has relevance in the present.

A couple of concepts stood out during my research, and I hope that these are things that come across to those visiting the exhibition. The first is that downtown didn’t just happen. When we go to nightfall and have a great time, enjoy a stroll around the riverfront, enjoy a meal in an outdoor space, or go home to our neighborhoods in the Southside, it’s easy to take those things for granted. The reality is that virtually everything we enjoy downtown- especially as it relates to the public realm- is the result of years of planning, sketching, design, debate, and hard work. Great places (especially in America) are the result of careful thought, design and planning.

The other thing that stood out has to do with time. The big maneuvers in downtown: Miller Plaza, Ross’s Landing, the Southside, and the river’s edge, all took at least a decade from the initial concept until completion. (That’s fast, by the way). The issue with that timing is that it cycles very differently from political cycles, funding cycles, and often community attention spans. I think the exhibition highlights the importance of having “something” that is a stable long-term steward of community vision. This “something” has to be a place of common ground, and a place where ideas have time and space to gestate. Without this function, the city develops in an ad hoc, piecemeal way that shortchanges greater possibilities. By highlighting these considerations and interjecting them into the civic dialogue, the retrospective projects a future.

The Retrospective will be open until late October and will be open to the public from 10 a.m. until 2 p.m. Monday-Thursday. As mentioned earlier, it can be found in the Citipark building at 831 Chestnut Street. Invite a friend, come out and have a look, and make sure you find me and say hey.

5. Money

So, where were we? Ah, yes, track five of the urban design blog tribute to Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon. To be honest, this tribute is in many ways like the album itself- now that I’m about halfway through I’ve realized that the idea of doing it is great, but the process of doing it is somewhat long and arduous. I am going to do my best to stay the course, but I know that there will be at lease one more interruption before this gets closed out – stay tuned.

Money- it makes the world go ‘round, and the love of it is the root of all evil. Much has been said and written about the shift in global wealth to a very few who are very rich. With the upcoming elections we’ll hear more about those with money exerting their influence over the process. Those points merit discussion. This post, however, addresses the more positive aspects of money as it relates to the development of downtown. Money is a key component in downtown and one could argue that money is the reason that downtowns exist. The opportunity for trade and commerce are key reasons that people locate in close proximity to one another. Trade, commerce and exchange are good and necessary activities that we all engage in (unless you live on a farm, grow your own food, make your own clothes, provide your own healthcare, make your own tools, etc, etc.)  A functioning downtown will facilitate commerce for the ultimate benefit of the citizenry.

Private sector entities invest downtown in order to provide goods and services to their customers. Investments are made by the public sector to enable the private sector to operate. Public investments also create a public realm that encourages people to inhabit the city and facilitates the interchange between buyers and sellers. For instance, when we suggest streetscape, it’s not just because trees are nice. A well-defined streetscape hierarchy provides visual cues to potential customers about where they can engage in different types of commerce. A well-designed and well-maintained streetscape increases the perceived quality of the stores on the streets, thereby inducing customer visits. Trees and street furniture can make a walk down the street more viable and comfortable and increase the amount of time potential customers spend in proximity to the businesses.

The key for all parties involved is to create situations whereby a dollar invested generates multiple dollars in return. The community needs to make sure that we leverage our investments to induce more investment and to create wealth. When the public sector invests in infrastructure, it should be done so in a way that results in a tax base that goes beyond merely covering the cost of the expenditure and results in revenue generation.

I’m working with a client in the Midwest to assist in the revitalization of their community. My client’s mission is to serve the entire community, but the have engaged me to focus on downtown. While my recommendation is clearly self-serving, I have been pitching them the concept that money they invest in downtown will have a far greater impact than money spent on projects in the ‘burbs. For example, a 240 linear foot infrastructure project (lets keep the streetscape theme going- sewer, lighting, sidewalk, trees) downtown will service at least a dozen different businesses. The same 240 linear feet in the outskirts of town might serve two. Of course, that’s not an apples to apples comparison because of things such as taps and curb cuts. It does, however, highlight the fact that investments made where there is an existing concentration of activity will have greater impact for a larger number than investments made trying to service one or two entities.

This topic is one that warrants a much more in depth post. Perhaps in the future I will return, but for now, I’m spent (get it?). I will, however, leave with you with a link to a money-centric article that has me looking forward to the fall.

Good bye, Baba.

Friends, this week we are taking a break from the Pink Floyd Dark Side of the Moon tribute. There will be no urban design talk this week.  While I was in Iowa last week I received the news that Baba had passed away. I made my back to the scenic city, corralled the family and we made our way down to God’s Own Alabama for the funeral. Baba and I were quite close. I am very sad, but she lived a long, full life and she’s with me every day.

This week instead of writing the blog, I wrote a brief eulogy that I delivered graveside. This is yet another occasion where my deficiency as a writer is on display. I simply can’t find the words to adequately express my feelings about the woman, or the impact that she had on my life. During the service, I wasn’t able to hold it together as well as I would have liked. Baba, however, knew all about my tendency to get emotional, so I doubt she would have minded. This is what I tried to deliver at the service:

Some time ago when Baba’s hearing started to fail Mom took her to see the doctor. The following exchange occurred:

Doctor: “Ms. Britton, we need to get you some hearing aids.”
Baba: “Hearing aids? Why do I have to wear hearing aids?” 

Doctor: “Because you’ve only got about 30% of your hearing left”

Baba: “That’s fine, I only want to listen about 30% of what people say anyway.”

In honor of her respect for brevity, I will try to be succinct.

To fully explain Baba’s impact on my life would take a full 39 years. She manifests herself in my most fundamental nature. Some of the great joys in my life have to do with learning new skills and figuring out how to do things. This is a direct result of what Baba taught me – she taught me to sew, to cook, to use tools, to can fruits and vegetables, and to garden. The things that she taught me are in many ways my defining characteristics. She is now gone and I will miss her. But while she is not longer with me physically, she is alive every time I use my sewing machine, every time I cook, every time I’m in the garden, every time I give my boys a kiss.

But beyond skills, she taught me something greater about life through her own example. After Big Luke passed when I was two, Baba quite literally devoted the rest of her life to providing for the well-being of Andrew, Luke and me. Her time, her resources – both financial and emotional, her thoughts and her focus were all spent to ensure that we were taken care of physically and emotionally.

Jesus set the example for how we should live our lives. He lived a life characterized by unconditional love, selflessness and sacrifice in the service of others. In my life I have not encountered another soul who more ably and consistently personified those characteristics than Baba. There is no higher praise I can give another human being.

Rest in peace Baba, I love you.

4. The Great Gig in the Sky

This is the fourth installment of my urban design blog tribute to Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon. I feel compelled to more boldly highlight this after a recent episode. Last week I did Time, an interpretation of a brilliant song that contains some of the best rock and roll lyrics ever written. The day after the blog came out, my stepdad informed me that my mom was very concerned about my mental state after reading the “poem” that prefaced my post (the “poem” being the lyrics to the aforementioned song). I assured them that my mental state is pretty much the same as it always is, and that I’m fine. I will note, that it’s always great to be reminded that your mom cares (and that she thinks you are capable of writing the lyrics to one of the great songs of all time).  In an effort to avoid any further confusion: Linda, the next song deals with time and death. I am not overly fixated on either, just following the structure of the album. (…and I’m sorry I don’t call more often).

Obviously “The Great (Fill in the blank) in the Sky” is a reference to death or passing of what the blank was filled in with. In the context of the album, I’ve always thought of this as the song with the screamy chick in between the two most poplar songs on the album.  Either way, there is a reference to transition. 'Round here, the most auspicious example of transition is the upcoming change in city leadership. I considered writing about that and what the implications might be for urban design, but I have decided to write about something a bit more concrete.

Urban design, as I practice it, focuses on the urban public realm- the streets, parks, plazas, and views that comprise our communally owned spaces. This public realm belongs to all of us and expresses the values and aspirations of the community. The other side of that coin is private property. (This is especially true in our country where we have developed a very black and white view of property- it is either public or private, there is no gradient). Our private places belong to their individual owner(s) and express that values and aspirations of that person. (Yes, your house/office/lot expresses your values and your aspirations to God and everybody). Public and private places serve different masters and are attended to different stewards. A healthy city, however, will leverage each to make the other better.

One of the most important and nuanced maneuvers in urban design is treating the transitions between pure public space and pure private space.  One of the hallmarks of a poorly designed place is a lack of attention to transition- these are places where one moves directly from pure public space to pure private space. This type of situation makes both of the spaces feel less comfortable because they retain the mental residue of the other- the private doesn’t feel totally private and the public doesn’t feel totally public. This lack of definition and legibility results in places that we perceive as being uncomfortable. We thrive on clues that inform us about the space that we are in and that indicate what types of activity are accommodated or appropriate.

The most successfully designed places create gradients or transition zones between pure public and pure private. The classic American example is the stoop of a downtown residential unit. Consider the examples of homes in our downtown. To enter, a person makes a gradual transition from pure public space to private space- sidewalk (pure public), steps (semi-public), porch (semi-private), indoors (pure private). It only takes 10 feet to make the transition, but the perception of space is far greater that the actual difference traveled. This makes the city, and its part more legible and defined, and therefore more comfortable. Beyond the public realm gradient, a well designed home will have its own privacy gradient that provides transition from “public” to “private” spaces within the home- the same principles apply.

(The gradient applies to all places - offices and retail spaces as well. However, the interiors of those types of private property are semi-public/public anyway, so the transition phase can be somewhat lessened.)

The challenge is to find the literal common ground between the public and private sectors to be able to create these transitional gradients. It is important to do so since this is where the rubber meets the road: we can create a healthy, legible, beautiful city that expresses our value of community and generosity, and our aspirations of being the best city in the country; or we can build a city that tells the world that we do not value place, and the we aspire only to do what it takes to get by.

This is indeed a tricky wicket. The baseline of the argument is “you can’t tell me what to do with my property”. This is true (to a certain extent) and I do not propose making anyone do anything. The challenge is to nurture the spirit of community that elevates us above the baseline argument. It would be great if we could create a culture where people do things like creating these transitions because: a) they understand the underlying principles, b) they understand that these techniques have practical and economic benefits for the property as well as the community, c) they trust that if they do something their neighbors will as well, d) they want to express their own values and aspirations, and e) they have pride in their community. If we can find a way to create that culture, we will be one of the great cities in the country. If we can’t overcome the baseline argument then the community can’t transition and we are left in purgatory.

3. Time

Track three in the C.Rushing blog interpretation of Dark Side of the Moon...

Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day 


You fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way. 


Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town 


Waiting for someone or something to show you the way. 


 
Tired of lying in the sunshine staying home to watch the rain. 


You are young and life is long and there is time to kill today. 


And then one day you find ten years have got behind you. 


No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun. 


 
So you run and you run to catch up with the sun but it's sinking 


Racing around to come up behind you again. 


The sun is the same in a relative way but you're older, 


Shorter of breath and one day closer to death.
 
Every year is getting shorter never seem to find the time. 


Plans that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines 


Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way 


The time is gone, the song is over, 
Thought I'd something more to say.

I am, of late, obsessed with time. Perhaps because I’m getting older (this year’s Christian-mas is a milestone), perhaps because my schedule is tight, perhaps because the boys are growing too fast, perhaps because selling my time is how I make a living. In addition to being my latest obsession and aside from being one of the greatest songs ever, Time is also an integral element of urban design.

The great cities of the world have grown incrementally over time. Since our country is relatively young, American cities have only had a few centuries to evolve as opposed to the millennia of some European and Asian cities. In and of itself, this is neither good nor bad, but couple that with unprecedented technological and population growth over the past century and the American city has become a different animal from cities across the globe.

Because our cities are so young, we don’t have the types of authentic, evolved city spaces that can be found on other continents.*  We do, however, love to put on a show. So it’s quite common to find “themed” development over here. Rather than embrace, nurture and grow a visual language of our own, we try to import things we like from around the world. This is part of the reason why the en vogue theme districts and a lot of new urbanist projects feel so thin and shallow. Developers understand that they like a certain place and try to recreate it. The problem is that authentic places have evolved over time and part of why they are so lovely is the patina that can only be acquired with the passage of time. Trying to copy that characteristic only results in places that are inauthentic and plastic- these are characteristics that designers and lay-people alike pick up on.

One of recent trends in urbanism is the recent surge in “DIY” urban design initiatives. This has been a topic of debate for planners and architects; you can read a couple of opinions about it here and here. I’m still in the process of forming an opinion about the phenomena – it certainly has pros and cons. The biggest con for me is time. If we’re talking about just a building, the process can take years. If we’re talking about a city, a single project can take a decade. Forget about issues of money, regulation and expertise, the question becomes who is going to stick with the vision over time to ensure that it is nurtured, protected and moved forward.

Chattanooga is effectively 196 years old. Our relatively recent civic renaissance has lasted about 30 years- only 15% of the overall life of the city. So, in the broad since, our recent work has been but a bump on the timeline. That work, however, has taken about half of a human lifetime. If you consider the various projects and initiatives that have happened within that period, you will find that time plays a major role in each.

In 1982 a state aquarium was proposed in the student work of Images of the City. Ten years later in 1992 the Tennessee aquarium was opened. Eight years passed from the time an intervention in the city’s center was proposed until Miller Plaza was completed. It took about ten years from the Southside planning initiatives of the mid-90s until Main Street hit full stride.  Twenty-five years passed from the time we decided to return to the river until the 21st Century Waterfront completed the connection. All of our major maneuvers have taken time, and each has outlasted yearly budgets and elections at every level.

During our impressive thirty-year run we had an entity that served as the steward for our civic visions. This place was open, transparent and served as common ground for every person and institution in the community. This place also put forth ideas, concepts and visions for the community to digest, debate and react to. The keeper of our collector conversation on urbanism and design kept these visions alive for as long it took to get them implemented. Who now is charged with stewarding the visions for the community over time and across budgets and elections?

*In our country, buildings that are 50 years old are eligible to be designated historic. That's funny. In older cities (where modern architecture also happens to be embraced) there are 200-year-old buildings that are still considered new.