To restore our economy, Australian cities should embrace culture and imagination

Covid-19 has sent Australia’s creative industries into distress, and the damage has been severe. More than half of the jobs (53%) in this sector ceased to function during lockdowns, resulting in hundreds of thousands of job losses across Australian cities. But what if we actively invest in making places more unique, exciting and creative? Could we make domestic travel more appealing – or even – make Australian cities the envy of the world?

Thought-piece I’ve written for RobertsDay - you can read online here.

Perth artist Matt Adnate’s work of celebrates Aboriginal culture. Photo courtesy Juddy Roller/Nicole Reed.

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Another year, another trip to Copenhagen

Last week I managed to fit in another quick trip over to Copenhagen. There are a million reasons why I love this city so much, but mainly because it's not an aggressive, traffic heavy, overdeveloped city... People are friendly, bike riders are respected and encouraged, the architecture - old and new - is elegant, nightlife is fun, and the Baltic is clean (swimming in the harbour ... amongst the ferries is fine).

There seems to be a simplicity, pragmatism and calmness that I haven't experienced in any other city. It's no wonder it's architects and urban designers are in demand in around the world.

This year my friend Mark and I rode our bikes up north and crossed over into Sweden for a couple of days. Awesome little trip and as always - can't wait to get back.

A few holiday snaps below. :-) 

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Kensington and Chelsea: a microcosm of divided London

Camera in hand, I recently explored London's Kensington and Chelsea - home of Grenfell Tower. A distinct socio-economic divide between the north and south, the Borough epitomises the inequality that exists across wider London.

On the 14th of June 2017, West London watched as a 24-storey public housing block was engulfed in flames. Fear and panic gripped the streets below as hundreds screamed for help from inside. 

At least 71 people have been confirmed dead. A a 2015 study showed that the neighbourhood surrounding Grenfell was among the top 10% most deprived areas in England - those who perished were some of the London’s poorest and most vulnerable.

Just two kilometres south-east of Grenfell sits Victoria Road - Britain’s most expensive street - where house prices average at £8 million ($14,000,000). As I walked past the rows of immaculate terrace houses, security lights clicked on, a tell tale sign that the owners live abroad. Nearby shopping districts epitomise glitzy consumerism - Mercedes Benz cars, shopping bags and botox. With so much money pouring into the local council, it’s no wonder it holds a reserve in excess of £274 million ($466 million).

Kensington and Chelsea is a microcosm of divided London, and unfortunately, the local authority has been a representative of only its most elite residents. Although those in Grenfell had complained about fire safety issues for years, their voices had fallen on deaf ears. It’s recently been argued that had fire extinguishers been installed, 99% of those in the building would have survived. 

Kensington and Chelsea's North

Kensington and Chelsea's South

The tragic events of the 14th of June have shocked this beautiful city to its core, yet early indications suggest that it hasn’t been in vain: the council leader soon resigned and an investigation has begun to determine if corporate manslaughter has been committed; we’ve seen conversations regarding deprivation and inequality rise to the forefront of political discussion, Jeremy Corbyn has called the disaster a product of the ‘brutal’ system of inequality; and the city’s Mayor, Sadie Khan, has proposed that the Prime Minister appoint a social housing Tsar.

In the wake of Grenfell commentators have pointed to the resonance of contemporary London with the one Dickens describes in ‘A Tale of Two Cities’. The echoes are hard to ignore, and the city’s wealthy are being warned of a social uprising from classes below. It seems London’s eyes have turned their focused on the government’s response to Grenfell. If systemic housing policy changes are not initiated, social discontent will surely intensify.

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Photographing for #WeLiveHere2017

Over the last few weeks, I've been shooting a documentary photography series for the #WeLiveHere2017 campaign. Each day I've been visiting the neighbourhood of Waterloo in central Sydney to take portraits of local residents, as well as asking them a few questions about their connection with the neighbourhood. 

The project aims to put a human face to public housing to encourage compassion, action and resistance to the rapid change that is taking place in this part of the city. Over the next year the state government intends to demolish and redevelop the public housing estate, displacing 4,500 of the existing residents. Unfortunately, these are some of Sydney's most vulnerable, including the elderly, disabled and those on low-incomes. 

40 years ago this neighbourhood was built as a 'utopia', opened by Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Philip. By 2018, the existing buildings and community will have disappeared - replaced primarily by those on high incomes. The socially diverse, dynamic, inner city community - with an important cultural heritage - will be changed forever.

If you want to check out my photographs head to @WeLiveHere2017 on Facebook or Instagram. You can also learn more about the community light installation and upcoming documentary through the official website.

Getting ready to take some shots for the day. Thanks Georgia MacNevin for the photos. 

Examples of portraits and stories below.

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Feature image courtesy Georgia MacNevin.

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What would Ernő Goldfinger think of Balfron Tower today?

Designed by Hungarian-born architect Erno Goldfinger in 1963, Balfron Tower has become a global icon of brutalist architecture.  

Last week I took off down to Balfron to take some photos. Although slightly smaller than its younger sister, Trellick, standing 26 storeys above East London, Balfron's harsh concrete was visible for miles. 

Walking towards the base of the building, the facade overshadowed me like the sheer of a cliff face. But as the building caught glimmers of the morning sunlight through the patchy clouds above, I became very aware of the elegant sophistication of Goldfinger’s design.

Stood taking photos of the towering monolith above, a man yelled, “what’s the intrigue!?” Sensing he was a pissed off resident, I gave him a simple answer, hoping he would move on. Staunchly walking towards me, he asked again, “what is the intrigue?”

Realising that this guy wasn’t about to just walk away I decided to open up explain to him exactly why I was there. I told him of my interest in Erno Goldfinger’s architecture and why I wanted to take photos of this building in particular.

It didn’t take long before the man’s tone of voice lifted, and his demeanor calmed. Suddenly all he wanted to do was tell me of his love for Balfron. As it turns out, he’d lived in the building for 25 years and was now the last social tenant before its sale to the private sector. 

He told me about the ensuing court case for his eviction, which was bound to come to close in the following weeks. The volume of his words increase as he explained his frustration at the powers and processes above him, this clearly wasn't the first time he'd told someone his story. 

For over 50 years Balfron had housed hundreds of families across 146 affordable housing flats. Now, 145 homes sat empty, and he was the last man standing.

“You wanna come check it out from the inside?” he asked.

Minutes later we were sneaking behind security and shuffling into the building’s stainless steel elevator. Creaking up to level 26, and stepping out onto the grey, concrete flooring, I was immediately overwhelmed by smells of booze and urine. Fortunately for us the breeze from the awning-hinged windows helped to disperse the smell through the corridors.

Peering through the horizontal pattern of windows, the view from the top was incredible: Poplar sat quietly below, the city skyline loomed in distance.

As I walked down the long corridors I imagined Erno’s ambition for ‘streets in the sky’, where working class neighbours would socialise and kids would play games. It was too bad, bottles of half drunken bottles of beer and empty NOS canisters now lined the passageways. 

After sometime upstairs, it was a relief to break back into the autumn sunlight. I wondered if I could ever live in a dark, concrete tower like this one. For while I could understand Erno’s ambitions, I could also appreciate where his design concepts had failed. 

In fact, when I first arrived in the UK, I thought brutalist buildings were disgusting. Having grown up in sunny Australia where there's an abundance of low-rise bungalow-style architecture and spacious streetscapes, I often wondered why London’s huge concrete 'ghettos' hadn’t been ripped down and replaced with something more attractive. But over the years, and after some reading, I began to appreciate the ethos behind their design.

Mainly a reaction to the housing crisis following World War II, this form of architecture attempted to help London’s homelessness by creating large, affordable buildings within accessible inner city areas.  While in reality these concepts didn't always work, the ethos - at least - was admirable. 

Balfron's last remaining social tenant is likely to be removed by force in the coming weeks. With few places to go, he told me he will likely be pushed outside of London altogether.

In cities across the world, a lack of affordable housing is forcing young people and those on low incomes to look for housing alternatives. Many are moving out of the cities that they love, whilst others are feeling the impacts of living in a 'rental trap'. 

As the last social tenant is forced-out of one of the world's most famous brutalist buildings, I wonder what Erno Goldfinger thinks of his building, and architecture, today? Would he be ashamed that we now completely ignore the socialist principles of the brutalist era?

I would never suggest that contemporary designers should copy Balfron Tower, or even brutalism, as a concept. But the ambition of its developers, and their architectural boldness, would be something to emulate. 

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Photographs by Dan Young & Tom Oliver Payne.

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This is Scandinavia's Tallest Tower: The Turning Torso

Jumping out of my train from Copenhagen, I quickly paced across the station’s dark concourse, making my way towards the bright blue sky seeping through the doors ahead of me. I pushed down on the latch and swung the door open - once again confronted by a new city. This time – Malmo, Sweden.

Knowing my trip would last just 24 hours, I had 2 boxes to tick: meet new people and check out the Spanish architect Santiago Calatrava’s ‘Turning Torso’.

In typical Nordic fashion, the Turning Torso hasn’t been built with right angles and rigid lines, but instead embraces a much softer and more beautiful design. Spiralling towards the blue sky above me, no imagination was needed to figure out where it got its name.

While most of the city is made up of old city streets and wide urban plazas, the district of Vastra Hamnen (Swedish for ‘Western Harbour’) –within which the tower sits - has undergone a recent rejuvenation and comprises kilometres of contemporary offices, and apartment buildings, all stretched along the beautiful Öresund waterfront.

Back in the late 1990s the City of Malmo developed a design competition to create a new tall building in the district. Zurich-based architect Santiago Calatrava submitted a sculpture that he’d created depicting a human body contorting around its spine in an upward movement. Impressed with Santiago’s piece, Calatrava was soon underway designing what would soon become Malmo’s most impressive landmark.

At 54 storeys, the building manoeuvres 90 degrees from top to bottom, and is considered to be the world’s first twisting skyscraper (the Cayan Tower in UAE has since been built with a similar twisting concept).

But in addition to its interesting design, the Torso is powered by 100% renewable energy and has been constructed with eco-friendly materials including recyclable aluminium. It also features a high degree of energy and water efficiency, helping residents to live much more sustainable lifestyles.

As I walked from Vasta Hamnen back into Malmo’s old town, I constantly looked back over my shoulder at this huge, twisting, tower behind me. It was a pretty courageous experiment from Santiago, but I guess just another testament to the fact that fortune favours the bold.

Make sure you check it out if you’re ever in Malmo. 

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Why Copenhagen is such an incredible city

Everyone knows that Copenhagen is the happiest city in the world. But not as many people appreciate just how unique and interesting it is. As a regular visitor, below I've listed out my top reasons why Copenhagen is the world's coolest city. 

Vibrant Neighbourhoods

Nørrebro

Norrebo is one of Copenhagen's trendiest districts: people look amazing, bars and cafes line the streets, and its energetic vibe lasts late into each night.

But this neighbourhood's vibrancy isn't simply a coincidence - Norrebro is the city's most multicultural area. With 26% of its inhabitants from outside of Denmark, it offers an incredible cultural mix of food, music, language and fashion-styles.

Islands Brygge

In contrast to the eclectic urban vibe of Norrebo, Islands Brygge is predominantly residential. But what makes this one of my favourite parts of the city, is its harbourside location and incredible stretches of open space.

Differently to most cities around the world, Copenhagen's government is liberal enough to let people swim in its harbour, and there's probably no better place to do that than Islands Brygge.

In summertime this neighbourhood is crowded with swimmers, drinkers, skaters and chillers - all checking out the beauty of the city... and probably each other. There's no doubt that this is where some of Copenhagen's most attractive people come for some time in the sun. 

MeatPacking District (Kodbyen)

Much like New York City's Meatpacking District, Copenhagen's old cattle markets have seen a recent rejuvenation, as young people embrace its large open spaces and old industrial buildings. 

While parts of the district are still used for the meat industry, since the early 2000s it's also emerged as a creative cluster, attracting galleries, restaurants, design firms and studios.

I recommend grabbing a coffee or beer and simply wandering around the district's streets; the mix of large, small, old and new buildings provide for a seemingly never-ending maze of beautiful hidden streetscapes. 

Out on my bike one afternoon, I spotted this chiller cycling into one of Norrebro's northern streets. It looks empty here, but not so far ahead, the intersections are lined with some of Copenhagen's best city life. 

Doing backflips into harbour pools in most cities will cause some nasty guard to yell and scream. In Copenhagen's Island Brygee, people are respected enough to not be babysat by authority.

Old warehouses lining the streets of the Meatpacking District, looking south towards the modern harbour edge.

Architecture

As soon as you step off the plane into Copenhagen's Kastrup Airport's beautifully designed terminals, you'll realise that this is a city that prides itself on clean, human-focused architecture. 

It's buildings comprise a full range of styles, all the way from the 17th century. In my opinion, however, it's the contemporary buildings which are some of the best: the Copenhagen Opera House and the Axel Towers to name just two.

Unlike the tall and bulky buildings in the US, Asia and the Middle East, Danish designers tend to focus on the details, such as fine shapes, curves and materials. As a result, the city has avery soft, and even feminine, feel to it. 

But my love for Copenhagen architecture is as much about the spaces between the buildings, as it is the buildings themselves. People here are not pushed to the edge of streets to make way for cars, and public spaces are not simply an urban designer's afterthought. This is a city where buildings have been shaped around open spaces - not the other way around. 

Copenhagen Opera House

New Axel Tower by Lundgaard Tranberg. Clean lines and shapes. Nice. 

Axel Towers

Within Copenhagen/Kastrup's airport terminal

Fashion

Copenhageners are a stylish bunch of people, but not in some 'edgy' up-your-own-ass-east-London kind of way. Instead, just like Copenhagen's architecture, nice design seems to be deeply embedded into Danish culture.

People on the street - young and old - have a generally distinctive Danish look: cuts are low and slouchy and logos are minimal. And even those who mix it all up and do something totally different still tend to look classy and timeless.

Andrew, the States and Delia, France.... Both spend a lot of time in the city, and love Norrebro for its clothing stores and bars.

"Ahh I have a hangover!" .... Live J.  plays the Cello by night and chills with friends in Norrebro by day . Casual hoodie, denim overalls and white sneakers... Copenhagen-style. 

The love for bikes

It'd be virtually impossible to write a post on Copenhagen without a mention of bicycles. 

As soon as you step foot in the city, you'll notice that just about everyone is on two wheels. But riding in Copenhagen is not about being a 'cyclist': it's not about lycra, helmets, bells, or reflectors. Bike riding in Copenhagen is about function, mixed with a bit of your own personal style. 

With lanes separating bikes from cars, moving through the city is a stress-free experience. It won't take you long to realise that every place in the world really should Copenhagenize. 

Fabian from Frederiksburg

"I pretty much don't go anywhere without my bike!" .... Olivia hanging with her friends down by Islands Brygge. 

Alec

Traffic congestion. Copenhagen-style.

I didn't grab this guy's name but he was super-friendly. Like most locals - was up for a good chat about his city.

A common street-view from just about any of Copenhagen's cafes.

Imitate to innovate: Vitoria-Gasteiz shows how cities can address 21st century challenges

A few weeks ago I had the chance to travel down to Vitoria-Gasteiz with the European Commission, and in collaboration with the German NGO for sustainability, Verkehrsclub Deutschland (VCD). Basically, the idea was to get a bunch of urban-related journalists to learn about the city and spread the news about some of it's sustainable innovations. It was for the right reason. The city and the governance model which had been set up to bring about change was seriously impressive.

All I could think was, why aren't other cities using this approach? An article and short film were published to both This Big City and the Sustainable Cities Collective. For your ease, I've also provided below. Enjoy.

"Imitation is not just the sincerest form of flattery – it’s the sincerest form of learning."

– Bernard Shaw

The Spanish city of Vitoria-Gasteiz has recently transformed itself from a congested and car-dominated city into one of the most pedestrian and bicycle-friendly places in Europe. It didn’t achieve this by going at it alone. Its key to success was learning from others.

Cities today are faced with challenges like never before. Rapid population growth, increasing inequality, pollution and congestion are not isolated issues. Rather, they are problems faced by cities across the globe.

While some places are quickly learning to change their old ways and adapt to new circumstances, others are finding it a little more difficult. Perhaps it’s time that those struggling cities to stop simply looking inward, and instead learned from others. After all, if people and businesses copy one-another to succeed, why can’t cities?

We now know that our addiction to the car was one of the greatest urban mistakes of last century. Weaning ourselves off this addiction is now one of our greatest challenges. While some cities reconfigure to prioritise people over cars, others are still stuck in the 70s. Sadly, it’s not only the environment that pays the price. Each year thousands of innocent people are killed because urban authorities can’t seem to re-adapt cities for people, rather than for cars.

Over the past few weeks in London we’ve seen outrage over the death of yet another cyclist. In all six of the deaths this year, the incidents involved a collision with a lorry. The problem is obvious: trucks and cars should not use the same lane of traffic as bicycles. The solution to this problem is also simple: separate the modes of transport.

Although people across London are fuming, there seems to be constant resistance to making logical junction and thoroughfare improvements. Surely the hundreds of innocent commuters dying in urban areas each year is enough for a city to make some drastic changes? Well, apparently not.

Although the city’s Mayor is an avid bike rider, plans to develop new bicycle infrastructure remain futile, and anything that has been achieved is ad-hoc and messy. While many progressive cities are quickly figuring it out, London (and many others), remain a dangerous place for people on bikes and on foot.

A couple of years ago, I did some research into why London was finding it so difficult to implemented Danish-style infrastructure. After speaking with experts in London, I took off to Copenhagen to experience riding in the city and speak with urban designers and government officials. It was obvious to see how a combination of traffic calming measures and separated bike paths create a city that is vibrant, safe and beautiful.

The research findings were simple: despite copying overseas lingo like ‘Cycle Superhighways’, London doesn’t really try to copy anyone. It tries to do things its own way. New designs try to please everybody, but in doing so, the results don’t please anybody. What we’re left with is a surface-transport mess. It simply doesn’t work for pedestrians, drivers or those on bikes.

This year, I wanted to find a city that is doing things properly. I wanted to find a place that knows how it wants to improve and is quickly making the right changes to get there. The city I found was Vitoria-Gasteiz – the 2012 European Green City winner.

In just ten years Vitoria has completely transformed itself from a car-dominated, polluted city to one of the most pedestrian and bicycle-friendly in Europe (and probably the world). Today over 50% of people walk to get around and 12% of people ride bikes. The number of people driving cars quickly continues to fall. Compare this with 21% people walking and 3% riding bikes in London, and 10% and 1% respectively in New York City.

I took off down to Vitoria to see the city first-hand and meet some of the people making this transformation happen.

Speaking with the Director of the Environmental Studies Centre (CEA), Juan Carlos, I learned why the city embarked upon this rapid transformation. “Just ten years ago, this city had a lot of problems with the car,” Juan told me, “but people knew it shouldn’t be like that, so we begun to think about how we could change it”.

The CEA receives funding from the city government but really only has one task at hand: improve the way the city functions. It independently advises the government on how it can improve, without getting bogged-down with day-to-day administration. This is very different to most other large cities, which leave important research and plan-making to oversized government bodies. With a relatively small team of a few dozen people, its no wonder the CEA quickly and effectively gets work done.

Juan told me that just ten years ago, the city decided to get off its backside and develop a progressive Sustainable Mobility and Public Space Plan. Instead of just looking inward, the team decided to see what other cities were doing to overcome similar problems. In collaboration with the German NGO for sustainability, Verkehrsclub Deutschland (VCD), Vitoria joined the European Biking Cities project. This enabled the city to learn from other urban areas with ambitious cycling policies.

When learning from others, Juan and his team didn’t simply implement three-metre wide bike paths like Danish cities, or turn one-way streets to two-ways, like in American cities. Instead Vitoria copied and pasted intelligently. Successful elements from elsewhere were carefully integrated into the city’s own context and adjusted where necessary.

Vitoria implemented Copenhagen-style bike paths on wide thoroughfares (when it could afford to); it used the ‘superblock’ idea from Barcelona to divert traffic and free up space for pedestrians; and it took greenways design characteristics from the Netherlands to create beautiful and attractive pedestrian environments, where people would actually want to spend time.

The Sustainable Mobility and Public Space Plan was then fully integrated with a new public transport plan. The aim was not to get as many people onto public transport as possible, but rather to get as many people out of cars as possible. Just like the caution surrounding Copenhagen’s new tram network, the city was careful to ensure public transport did not detract from people walking and cycling, but rather only detracted from the number of those driving. This was achieved through careful network design.

Interviewing Juan Carlos, Director of the Environmental Studies Centre

Even as its population soars, Vitoria today is probably more beautiful and vibrant than ever. As I stood with my bike on wide, green boulevards, outside bustling cafes I was shown photographs of the same city streets just a few years earlier – they were almost beyond recognition.

Where cars were parked up on sidewalks, gardens beds now thrive. Where trucks and buses queued for hours in peak hour traffic, people walk and chat in a green corridor, which takes trams into and out of the city centre.

With so many people moving through, and spending time in public spaces, the city has a healthy, social vibe, which simply doesn’t exist where the urban grain has been dissected by busy car thoroughfares. I couldn’t help to imagine what larger cities like London, New York, Sydney and Singapore could become.

In just the past five years, the length of bikeways has increased to 135 kilometres. Unlike London’s lycra-covered, middle-aged men racing each other to the office, bicycle infrastructure means that riding a bike is safe for everyone – of all ages. Segregated bike paths have made Vitoria more inclusive for everyone.

The changes however, have not just been about updating the city’s infrastructure. Creative ways of communicating and educating have been crucial to Vitoria’s success.

Heiko Balsmeyer from VCD told me how the city worked to get local politicians on board so that consensus on important decisions could be reached. It was a process of open communication about the widespread benefits of new ideas. With this knowledge instilled, it would have been simply ignorant for councillors to object to projects that would have obvious, citywide benefits.

Inspired by the UK’s Bikeability Programme, programmes are now being implemented into school curriculums where children are taught to ride safely to school. The hope is that kids will no longer need their parent’s assistance to get about the city.

The range of progressive measures in place to support positive change goes on: the city has overhauled parking policies, updated its branding strategy, and helps support progressive local community groups. Many of these measures have been taken from overseas and adapted into the local context.

Vitoria’s clear success has been in clever imitation. As we embark on a new urban era, it’s about time that cities transfer knowledge, communicate, and work with one-another to overcome what are both local, and global, challenges.

Malaga: why cities should invest in culture

A couple of weeks ago, a bunch of my friends and I decided we would explore Malaga in Spain. Not only is there is some cool stuff within and around the city that is great to ride on bikes, but the city is now home to one of the world's greatest skateparks designed by the legendary Rueben Alcantara.

Back in the 90s and 2000s, Ruebenwas one of the world's most well-known bmx riders -  known for his unique style and ability to create interesting new tricks. Although he exploded in popularity in the United States, his home was always Malaga. Today Rueben has moved back to this city and although he still shows up most professional bmx riders today, he isn't quite the bmx-celebrity he once was.

Upon his return however, the city of Malaga has benefited from investing in Rueben's talent, knowledge and global popularity.

In the 18th century, Malaga was the second most important industrial centre in Spain. Today, converted into a world capital of tourism, thanks to the development of the Costa del Sol and its privileged climate and strategic location, Málaga continues to grow. However, with the recent recession having taken its toll on tourism, the city is also redefining itself in knowledge-based sectors and the arts.

Initially just allowing Rueben to design the bowl, the local authority/investor allowed Rueben to slowly take much of the control of the creation and management of the entire park.

Today, it is a fully flung skate and bmx centre named quite appropriately Malaga Skatepark Rueben Alcantara and it now attracts some of the most well-respected bmx riders and skateboarders from around the world... Just on our trip we met bus loads of riders from across Europe, the States and Australia.

Who knows what energy this will spark in the local neighbourhood? Who knows what attention in will bring from across the global community? How many more Rueben's will this park help to create?

Creative ideas, people and trends can completely transform local economies and even improve social cohesion within a community. Helping the arts and new ideas to prosper can - arguably, of course - have an even greater impact on government policies and other top-down community-building programmes.

Local governments often seek out consultants to guide them on what's best for local economies or place making. Here's another idea: see what already exists and help it to thrive.Perhaps the best way for local governments to stimulate neighbourhoods is by seeking out local talent and helping it to grow - much the same as a good business does with its employees.

Each neighbourhood comprises a unique history and has a diverse range of local residents. These people have talents, skills, ideas and perspectives. By allowing them to thrive in their community, the community will also thrive as a result.

I'm strong believer in individual creativity and ambition. When this is met with support and funding with the institutions and organisation who have it, great things can happen. Sometimes it just takes a little bit of risk-taking.

Bicycle revolution or urban fad?

Cities across the world are seeing a dramatic increase in cycling. Is this a short lived fad, or are we witnessing the start of a revolution in urban transport?

The rise of the car in the 50s and 60s completely transformed cities – first across the USA, and then the world. Once centred around walkable shopping districts and train lines, cities began to spread into vast suburbs and homogenous landscapes.

Cars didn’t only change our cities, but they also changed our way of thinking. The car became a symbol of freedom, a symbol of maturity and a form of identity in the western world.

Today, we are seeing cities across the globe turn to alternative forms of mobility, and trains, trams and buses are back on the planning agenda in a big way. 60 years ago, one of the world’s most extensive tram networks (180 miles) was destroyed in Sydney, Australia, to make way for the private car. Today, the city is once again investing billions into a new light rail system that it hopes will relieve some of the city’s severe congestion.

We’re also seeing (re) investment into bicycle infrastructure in downtown districts across the globe. Over the last few years, cities like New York have constructed hundreds of miles of bike paths and bike share schemes are popping up in every corner of the globe – from Hangzhou’s ‘Public Bicycle’, to Paris’ Vélib’, to Montreal’s ‘Bixi’.

Pedalling home from work in Stockholm.

Bikes are also having a renewed surge of popularity. Portland hipsters are taking to the streets on fixies, east Londoners are dusting off vintage Raleighs and Sydney corporates are swapping golf clubs for lycra… As a result, the growth in cycling numbers has been immense in many cities worldwide. Italy has recently recorded that bike sales have outstripped car sales for the first time since World War II; the number of commuter cyclists in new York has doubled over the last five years; and for the first time in decades, a London borough (Hackney) has recorded that more people cycle to work (15%) than drive (12%).

Is all of this a revolution, or is it simply an urban fad?

The ‘bike boom’ of the United States saw similar trends in the late 60s and early 70s. Between ‘63 and ‘73 bike sales increased from 2.5 to 15 million, companies such as Union Carbide installed bike racks for employees and more than 50 cities across the country began planning bike paths with funding from the federal government. While there are many assumptions about why the American ‘bike boom’ ended, it’s likely that it had something to do with the end of the fuel crisis and recession.

Sunday morning shopping in the London borough of Hackney. 

Unlike America in the 70s, today we really are beginning to realise that our growth is unsustainable. We’re aware that we can no longer keep producing without recycling, we can no longer all own large homes, and we can no longer all drive to work – not only do our cars not all fit in our cities, but we are also running out of the very resource that drives them. There are simply too many of us. And yes, some argue that in our highly urbanised world, we could spread our wings by repopulating and revitalising rural areas. But not only do we rely on the economies of scale of cities to compete in the globalised world, but the ‘green’ countryside is also very ‘brown’. Those living in spacious rural areas generally have far greater environmental impacts than those in cities. As a result, we’re seeing transit-oriented housing developments, a move towards cleaner energy sources, urban congestion taxes and rising fuel prices. These are all putting pressure on  drivers and making the move to two wheels seem slightly more practical.

Is the movement global? Not every city is adopting bike use in the same way, and some cities aren’t moving towards bikes at all. An array of factors will determine how, exactly, these changes are occurring. Some cities already have a deeply embedded bike culture (Copenhagen), some cities have stubborn politicians (Sydney), some cities are simply too hot (Phoenix), too cold (Ulan Bator) or too vast (Los Angeles). But across the globe we are beginning to witness a shift in the way we think about urban mobility.

The car will not simply disappear and bicycles will not suddenly take over our streets. But as we look for alternative solutions to our current transport woes, cycling is suddenly looking like a pretty smart option.

Rather than just a fad, I’d argue that today’s boom will be sticking about for a while. Just like the revolution of a wheel, we are perhaps, returning to where it all began.

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What could cities learn from La Défense, Paris?

I've written once or twice before on the glass and steel enclave that is Canary Wharf, in London's east. La Défense could be regarded as the Parisian equivalent. While their histories differ significantly, their purpose is somewhat similar: they offer space to alleviate the cities from the pressure from intense commercial floorspace demand.

Apart from Montparnasse (and of course, the Eiffel Tower), Paris has - throughout history - enforced strict restrictions on building heights. During the 60s and 70s, as the economy became increasingly focused on services sectors, demand for office space boomed. As a result, La Défense attracted large-scale property development because it was able to offer the space for vertical growth.  

With property demand remaining strong across Paris, solutions to the problems facing planners today are not simple. The city juggles the needs of economic and population growth with transport congestion and historic conservation.

La Défense is no quick-fix. In fact, channeling thousands of workers into this major office hub places immense pressure on city systems. However, unlike London which has recently allowed for height increases across the core, Paris refuses to relax downtown height restrictions. As London's large commercial schemes now spread from Canary Wharf right across the West End, Paris remains focused on concentrating its major office developments in La Défense. The government is supporting this with an ambitious 9 year investment plan.

Which model works best? Will Canary Wharf suffer from the inner city developments which act to siphon demand? Will La Défense fail to produce what international investors expect in a world class city? 

Heading over to the La Défense precinct last week, I was impressed with the unique architecture that lines the wide pedestrian plazas. The symmetrical landscape design and interesting building shapes offer an aesthetic touch that many city's don't. But would I want to work there? Probably not. 

While it is beautiful, La Défense lacks the small-grain character that is vital to urban vibrancy - a characteristic that makes central Paris so special in the first place.

Rather than a blank criticism, this is just one simple observation of a district that I believe offers immense opportunity to solve a number of urban growth problems. If Paris can get it right through Project La Defense 2015, the area will act as a wonderful example of how to balance the needs of market-driven growth with historic preservation. As London's skyline looks bound to further fragment, perhaps there are lessons to be shared in both directions.

All photos by Tom Oliver Payne.

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How we can design for human desire

Have you ever noticed a dirt track through a public park or a group of people who meander across a street in seeming defiance of authority?

Well, that's because we, as humans, utilise something called 'desire lines'. Coined by French philosopher Gaston Bachelard, desire lines describe the human tendency of carving a path between two points (usually because the constructed path takes a circuitous route).

Across the globe urban authorities tend to try to control people's walking desires by erecting fences and walls. This illustrates nothing but a disrespect for human desire.

Instead, planners and designers should be acting to adjust urban infrastructure to appreciate the way in which humans utilise urban space.

The image above shows a terrific example from Gladesville in Sydney. Travelling from the city's north into the Inner West, one must traverse a number of waterways. For private cars, this journey is relatively direct and well-signed. For pedestrians and cyclists on the other hand, the journey is indirect and rather complex, leaving people to navigate multiple underpasses and complicated road-crossings. Not what you want on a hot Sydney summer day. As a result, pedestrians and cyclists have forged their own path which allows them to avoid a good 300m underpass walk. Instead of observing and redesigning the space to accommodate for the desires of people, the roads authority has continually tried to stop the movement of people by erecting fences at multiple sections along the path.

Alongside Gladesville Bridge, Sydney

Is Sydney a city for people or a city for vehicles? It seems that the Roads and Maritime Services would prefer it to a place for cars (I guess it's all in the name, right?).

As cities move from being overly engineered and private vehicle-dominated, observing desire lines will act as an incredible tool in urban design, place making and urban management.

In the words of Mikael Colville-Andersen, "Instead of erecting fences to restrict them in the behaviour, they [Copenhagen Council] actually make it accessible for them and make it easy for them. Because people - at the end of the day - decide on where they want to go... This is the way forward in designing our cities for people". Check out his great little film below:

Episode 09 - Desire Lines - Top 10 Design Elements in Copenhagen's Bicycle Culture from Copenhagenize on Vimeo.

Feature image courtesy Adventures in Photography.

Policy mobilities, planning cultures and Cycle Superhighways

I recently had the opportunity to complete a dissertation on a topic of my choice. As expected, I decided to research bikes in the city...

Beginning the dissertation I envisioned undertaking a fairly straightforward analysis of how London has attempted to copy Copenhagen’s Cycle Superhighways (CSH). As with most research, it wasn’t long before I realised that the delivery of each of these policies wasn’t as straightforward as it first seemed.

While London and Copenhagen’s motivations for implementing CSH remained generally the same, their designs could hardly be more distinct. London’s blue splats of paint are hardly the safe and coherent, segregated cycle paths that stretch into and out of Copenhagen’s centre.

In reality, London has made no effort to actually ‘copy’ Copenhagen’s CSH network: it has merely copied the name.

While cycling around Copenhagen in the glorious summer months conducting an urban design analysis and interviews with planning professionals, I was faced with the complex question: how can London improve its cycling culture to become more like that of Copenhagen?

Copenhagen.

London. 

The answer is essentially quite simple: build it and they will come. But why has this been so difficult in London? Why does every cycle scheme ignore the need to build infrastructure that separates bikes and cars?

It wasn’t long before I was exploring the histories of both cities, making links between past events and contemporary transport planning culture.

On the one hand, Copenhagen has decades of experience in implementing segregated bike lanes (although it wasn’t always this way). On the other hand, London has a long history of implementing lousy, ad-hoc cycling schemes, which in a sense, continually try to please everybody, without actually pleasing anybody. This continues because of the status-quo mentality that runs deep within bodies like Transport for London.

How can London get out of this rut? With such a democratic approach to planning, how can it begin to finally close the ‘cycling credibility gap’ (relationship between acceptance of cycling culture and the level of infrastructure) - as I've termed it – without already having critical mass?

As a final recommendation, I’ve argued that London (ie. Boris) must finally begin to deliver sections of high quality cycling infrastructure. By communicating the benefits of fully segregated cycle paths, he can finally gain the momentum to persuade the lobby groups, institutions and various road users that this is exactly the long-term infrastructure London needs to become the cycling city it envisions itself to become.

Check out the full dissertation here: Policy mobilities, planning cultures and Cycle Superhighways (note: names of interviewees have been removed for privacy).

Australia’s political Dark Age: the spark for action

The outcome of Australia’s recent federal election isn’t just disappointing. As an Australian, I think it’s shameful. Newly elected Prime Minister Tony Abbott is a well-known climate change sceptic with seemingly no regard for science. Under his guidance, it seems that Australia is headed straight back to the Dark Ages.

As Jonathon Porritt explained in his recent piece for the Guardian, the election will have dire environmental consequences – undoing years of hard work on environmental and climate change policy. But Tony Abbott’s plans to abolish the carbon tax and dismantle crucial bodies like the Climate Commission are just the beginning.

Important environmental policies are at risk of being undone in all areas of governance. In particular, the election of the man who has an absolute disregard for science and research will have a direct and significant impact on Australia’s cities.

Australia’s urban areas have some of the largest per capita ecological footprints in the world. Over the past few years, however, progressive transit, water and energy policies have been recognising that cities must harness renewable energy sources, more effectively manage water supplies and reduce reliance on private vehicle use.

Resistance to the construction of urban roads at all tiers of government has seen an increased demand for alternative modes of transport. This makes sense: the more roads you build, the more cars you have, the more rail lines you build, the more rail commuters you have.

With an on-going pipeline of urban rail projects across the country, public transport usage has seen an increase of 65% over the last decade. All major cities have also substantially increased their spending on cycling infrastructure. In contrast, growth in car usage has slowed dramatically.

But all of this progress is suddenly looking to back-flip. Not only will the new Prime Minister dismantle the Major Cities Unit, which carefully advises on Australia’s 18 largest urban areas, but he has also embarked upon an aggressive road-building scheme. To achieve this vision, Abbott will cease funding to crucial public transit projects and reform environmental planning legislation to speed up the development process.

Abbott’s policies do not only ignore climate scientists, but seemingly ignore environmental priorities wherever possible.

But none of this is any surprise. Explaining that climate change was “absolute crap” in 2010, Tony Abbott’s inability to understand science has been evident for a long time. Sadly, a combination of agenda-driven media, a fragmented Australian Labour Party and ignorance amongst many voters, has produced a less than desirable election outcome for progressive Australians.

What does this mean for the future of Australia?

The election of Abbott is shameful. But I believe it also acts as an opportunity for aggressive grassroots political action. As Jonathon Porritt explains in his new book, The World We Made(Alex McKay’s Story from 2050), creating a sustainable future is not just about technology, but also about political protest.

For the most part, I think Australians are well-informed, proactive and forward thinking. Many do not believe they are immune to global issues. And many have not become complacent with oversized bank accounts from the resource boom. For most Australians, now is the time to stand up to the ignorance and dogma that run deep in Australian politics and media.

We can take comfort in the knowledge that this has happened before. In retaliation to the increasingly neoliberal policies of the 1970s, the Green Bans social movement saved neighbourhoods, parks, waterways and forests across the country. The campaigns also sparked government reform and new environmental legislation. Reaction to the Abbott-era is likely to have a similar outcome.

Retaliation has already begun.

Just hours after the new government announced that it would dismantle the government’s Climate Commission - led by renowned scientist Tim Flannery - there was widespread public outcry. With a “groundswell of support”, as Flannery has called it, the group was rejuvenated with private sector funding and public donations. Having already raised $1 million through crowd-funding, the renamed independent “Climate Council” is now looking to expand its research base.

The inability for scientific logic to infiltrate political reasoning has left Australia pursuing disgraceful policies. In doing so, the country has opened itself up to scrutiny from the global community.

I have no doubt that this scrutiny will spark Australians to have intelligent conversations about the future of the country. It will also force Australians to stand up to the immoral policies being pursued by the new government.

Just like the ‘shocks to the system’ that pepper The World We Made, Tony Abbott may be just the political wakeup call that the country needs.

This article was initially written as an opinion piece for Forum for the Future, here.