Inner Sydney’s best new architecture

Back in January I returned to my home city of Sydney for a month. As the plane crossed the beautiful harbour, I could see dozens of new buildings now gracing the skyline. Here is - in my opinion - the best of inner Sydney’s new architecture.

1. One Central Park

When I was in my early 20s my friends and I would head to a music night on Sydney’s Broadway called Purple Sneakers... No doubt I was annoyed when the bar was to shut to make way for a bunch of new towers.

Turn the clocks forward a decade and all is ok! One Central Park is beautifully designed (by Jean Nouvel), and with a whole load of bars, shops and cafes, it’d be hard to argue that the new area isn’t an awesome addition to the city. Having now won dozens of design and sustainability awards around the world, this is the sort of development that makes Sydney's architecture a talking point around the world.

I was lucky enough to get a tour by friend of mine, and urban planner, John O’Callaghan. Check out the film below.

2. Dr Chau Chak Wing Building

Known for using unusual materials and incorporating a unique sculptural style, Frank Gehry is one of the world’s most celebrated architects.

In the past he’s been criticised for being a ‘Starchitect’ whose showey buildings overwhelm their surroundings.But in my mind, Gehry brings a sense of humanism to cities, which across the world, suffer from lifeless, boring buildings. And Sydney is no exception to this. It only takes looking at the city skyline to see that many of Sydney's existing tall building architecture is unimaginative and unambitious.

Whether you see it as ‘a beautiful paper bag’ or a ‘treehouse’, the new UTS building is a awesome new addition to the Sydney skyline.

Photo by Jason James

3. Paramount House

Through the enhancement of a beautiful 1940s art-deco building, the collaborative work of Woods Bagot architects, Fox Johnston Architects and Right Angle Studio, among others, has proved that Sydney's heritage buildings can be beautifully readapted into innovative and creative spaces for modern-day use.

The recent refurbishment has created a dynamic space for a mix of uses, including a cinema, café and workspaces. I was super impressed with Wood Bagot’s use of traditional joinery and artisan furnishings in its incredible shared office space.

Sydney has a strong record of destroying old buildings, so its awesome to see a project like this, which has seen the art-deco Paramount so nicely brought back to life.

I was originally going to include a section on the city's worst architecture, so that I could have a good old rant about Barangaroo. But for now... I'm keeping it positive!

Any other buildings that should be on this list?

INSTAGRAM

Why I like Brutalist architecture

Brutalism seems to divide opinion like no other type of architecture. Between the 50s and 70s huge, grey, concrete buildings were built across cities around the world. While a lot of people hated their ‘inhuman’ and overbearing aesthetic, the architects designing them thought they were creating a new kind of utopia.

Until a few years ago, I knew nothing about this type of architecture. But it wasn’t long before I fell in love with taking photos at The Barbican Estate, and soon learned a bit about the movement.

Whether I love or hate the look of a particular brutalist building, I now really appreciate what it was trying to achieve. Now, every time I head off to a new city, I seek out these buildings and try to learn a bit about what they were trying to achieve in each place. From scanning the internet, it looks like other people love it too.

The term ‘brutalism’ comes from the French word ‘brut’, meaning ‘raw’. That’s exactly what these buildings are. So different from elegant design and detailing in the past, their designers used rough concrete with hard textures, and showed-off elements of the building that used to be hidden, like lift shafts.

The thing that I think is cool about brutalism is not the way it looks, but that it was designed with the best, optimistic intentions.

After the World War II, Europe was trying to rebuild its cities in a way that fixed a lot of its problems from the past, and Brutalism was all about trying to make buildings as cheap, functional and equal as possible. By making sure the building’s foundations were exposed, architects hoped that the ordinary could be seen as an art form, and in doing so - make them attractive to every person in society - whether rich or poor.

A key element of brutalism in London was the idea of creating ‘streets in the sky’, which would connect apartments blocks or offices. The idea was that neighbours could talk, kids could play and people could walk to work way above the fast-moving traffic below.

In the period of two decades, once low-lying urban areas were quickly transformed by towering concrete structures by architects and planners who envisioned a utopian city, where residents lived equally.

The ideas were cool, but in practice, it didn’t take long before the brutalism movement came to an end. It’s considered a social experiment, which didn’t really work. People soon realised that these buildings created strange ‘placeless’ spaces and restricted pedestrian movement through urban areas, which encouraged isolation and crime.

After harsh criticism for years, many of these buildings were demolished and some have been preserved. In London, my favourite surviving examples are Robin Hood Gardens, Balfron, Trellick Tower, and The Barbican.

The thing that I find super interesting about the Brutalist Movement, is how bold these planners and architects were: they saw a problem in society and they set out to find a solution for it through design. Sometimes I feel like society lacks some of that audacity these days. We have as serious housing shortage in London right now, and no one seems to be doing anything to fix it.

To me, this style of architecture represents a group of optimistic designers who were experimenting with a courageous idea - and that’s pretty cool.

Photos and film copyright Tom Oliver Payne.

INSTAGRAM

Exploring London's 3 best graffiti neighbourhoods

Ever since I was a kid, I’ve been exploring. And not much has changed now that I’m in my 20s. But when I go somewhere new, I don’t just sit in a café, or see a boring landmark. Instead, I discover random parts of a city, hang with other creatives and check out exciting new ideas.

This week I teamed up with Converse to explore my own city like I haven’t before. I decided to seek out the neighbourhoods which not only attract street artists from across the world, but are at the forefront for young artists who are forging new paths.

Converse (Chuck Taylor II Neon) was the perfect partner to explore the adventure this incredible city has to offer. Chuck II is a product synonymous with pushing creative boundaries – something which is fundamental to who I am. That, together with a commitment to enabling young people to think bigger, they were a refreshing wingman on my exploration of London’s urban art.

1. Shoreditch

Shoreditch is the centre of London’s street art scene. Streets like Brick Lane may be popular with tourists, but it’s also where artists have their work recognised right across the world.

I took off up Hanbury Street, which is coated with some of the best murals I’ve ever seen. Then, heading to the Nomadic Gardens, I met some barefoot hippies and chilled in one of the most colourful public spaces in London. Huge art works spread across the railway tracks and small little throw-ups surrounded the community campfire. Awesome.

Shoreditch may be the centre of London’s street art scene, but that’s not to say leave it off your bucket list – just make sure you explore the backstreets.

2. Camden Town

Camden Town has been synonymous with music and creativity since the 60s. And today, it continues to be more inspirational than ever.

Heading past the world-renowned Camden Lock Markets, it was just a matter of seconds before I was down some laneways and surrounded by some seriously amazing shit. A super detailed artwork by Otto Schade acts as a memorial to Amy Winehouse, and a huge piece by Dan Kitchener is – in my opinion – his best addition to his ‘Liquid Lights’ series.

But there was one bit of paint that caught my attention in particular. Created by Pang, this was beautiful portrait of a recent Syrian refugee in London. Apparently the man came to the alleyway himself to help complete the piece - a cool reminder how art can influence the political world.

Camden’s creative scene has continually broken barriers, and just like the music, its street art scene seems to only get better with age.

3. Hackney Wick

Hackney Wick is a neighbourhood where young people are generally free to make noise, party, and paint walls. Not only does the cheap rent offer the perfect place for creatives to live, but its huge old warehouse spaces give plenty of room for imaginative musicians and artists to experiment with fresh ideas. Just about every wall in Hackney Wick is covered with vivid colours from an emerging new artist.

By the time I was done checking out the The Wick’s graffiti scene, it was time to indulge in some music. It’s a good thing my Chuck II’s were super comfortable for the full day out… and of course a night on the dance floor.

As a young creative in London, it’s important I’m always seeking out the next opportunity. It doesn’t matter where I am, or what time of day it is, I’ve got to be ready for whatever comes my way. Psyched to team up with Converse on this adventure, I couldn't imagine a better collaboration to explore the neighbourhoods at the forefront of the city’s street art culture.

Chuck II's are available from Converse.com.

Photos by Sam Jackson and Mali-Koa.

INSTAGRAM

Music and Cities: Berlin

When I think of Berlin, the things that jump to mind are huge warehouse spaces, hard techno music, late night parties, and a city of free and liberal-minded people. It was probably one of my favourite films, Berlin Calling, which long ago planted this image in my head.

The city is considered the techno capital of the world, and Mali and I wanted to find out why. What better way to do this than to hit some parties, meet some DJs, and talk to the locals and urbanists?

After touching down in Schönefeld Airport, it wasn’t long before we were romping around Kreuzberg. As we explored, it was quick to see that this part of Berlin had a very different look and feel of cities of Western Europe: huge city blocks and old warehouse buildings lined the streets, grey concrete walls crumbled around us and dark alleyways stretched into the darkness. The neighbourhoods felt hard and weathered: an exciting, unrefined vibe, far from the lights and glitz of Champs-Élysées.

Trying our best to avoid the sub-zero temperatures we hustled into a coffee shop to meet long-time locals, Fanny Rybarsch and William R Wilkendorf. As city enthusiasts and owners of street-music company, Klara Geist, it was clear these guys knew a thing or two about the city.

Reflecting on his long history in Berlin, William told us about the alternative, and even anarchist, nature of the city. The Berlin Wall, he said, very likely played a strong role in creating this. East Berliners lived in a surveillance state, and on both sides, attempts to cross to the other side to meet friends or loved ones was likely to end in death. In addition, the wall created small neighborhood enclaves sitting against the Spree River. For decades these areas became run-down and derelict. But this also meant that rent was cheap, which attracted squatters, people making art, talking politics, and creating music.

With the rise of groups like Kraftwerk, electronica music began to hit the mainstream, and naturally Berlin’s alternative neighbourhoods were at the forefront of this music scene.

Heading north of the river to Friedrichstrasse we were welcomed into the home of Dr Jan Kuhn. Both a DJ and urban sociologist, he had for a long time explored the city’s relationship with the electro music scene. He talked us through the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989, and how the once divided city finally became unified.

Suddenly, the suppressed eastern side of the city was free to live in and travel to the West. And what were isolated neighbourhoods like Kreuzberg, now sat right in the centre of what were once two cities.

With a combination of alternative thinking, liberal laws, cheap or empty spaces (a third of all buildings in west Berlin were unoccupied when the wall came down), and an already pumping music scene, it wasn’t long before the now united Berlin became the world’s centre for electronic music.

Heading out into the night, it was apparent to us that this was a city that came alive after dark. Mitte’s streets permeated with lights and music flowed from the buildings and down the streets. All around us people from across the globe out to party, and even before midnight, the city’s famous kebab shops were filled with people seeking some post-alcohol sustenance.

Fortunate enough to meet some of the city’s most impressive up-and-coming DJs, we soon learned why artists from both around the country, and around the world are continually attracted to the city.

Christoph Etmars (aka Escape to Mars) told us, “Berlin is the place to find yourself and your music… We have so many kinds of electronica music in Berlin…. That’s why Berlin, is Berlin, I think. ”

Vom Feisten couldn’t have agreed more, “Here is the new centre of this music in the world… People from all over the world come together, meet each other, work on different projects… the newest and biggest labels are from Berlin."

As we partied late in the city's bars and clubs, we felt the vibe that these DJs  got from their city. People around us had an energy to them - a slight edge. While the city is now unified, I guess Berlin’s sense of anarchy lives on in the music… and late into the night.

INSTAGRAM

Music and Cities: Paris

We probably couldn’t have arrived in Paris at a more interesting - or uneasy - time in recent history. Just a couple of weeks after the horrific attacks on the city, we set foot on the Champs-Élysées and were taking in the sites, sounds and vibes of this incredible town.

The mood was somewhat sombre and the people we met were visibly shaken from the recent events, but as we would quickly learn, Paris is a city of unity and cohesion, and shows amazing resilience even at the worst of times. People continued to socialise on the streets, with red wine flowing - in true defiant Parisian style.

France is home to the second largest hip hop scene outside the United States, and the Parisian suburbs are key in the development of its hop-hop culture.

Much of the city’s hip hop music influence is drawn from poor living conditions, in central and out-of-town housing estates. Residing in HLM rent-controlled housing, many French rappers draw upon their upbringing in this environment as a source of inspiration for their lyrics. In particular, places like Le Brake, La Chapelle, Clichy-Sous-Bois and the 18th Arrondissement are considered neighbourhoods which have directly influenced some of the most prominent rappers in French hip hop.

But although Paris’ underprivileged urban areas have led rappers to express themselves about social segregation – the act of doing so – also brings them together.

When we spoke with the awesome Cecile (‘Pumpkin’) Unia, she told us about the recent attacks on the Bataclan nightclub. “It was just a few weeks earlier that I was there”, she said, “they could have been my friends and fans.”

As Cecile spoke, it was clear that there was a strong sense of community among the Parisian hip hop scene. She told us about the sense of brotherhood and sisterhood among local musicians, as well as the city’s open spaces, venues and events which bring artists together to network, learn and hang out. It was clear that these two things went hand-in-hand: the physical spaces within the city itself had directly helped to create the deep connections that the artists have with one another.

Sitting at the intersection of multiple metro lines, for example, the area of Les Halles has for a long time been considered an important part of local hip hop culture. People from different neighbourhoods across the city once travelled to its underpasses and disused spaces to break-dance and rap together.

When the government embarked upon a large scale neighbourhood regeneration scheme, local community groups argued that hip hop should be integrated back into the local community as part of its redevelopment. Fortunately the government listened. It wasn't long before hip hop enthusiast Jean-Marc Meogeot, was put in charge to help develop the a new hip hop venue for the Parisian community. It’s a good thing that Jean-Marc dreams big – because these are no small plans.

When built, the Paris Hip Hop Centre will provide huge spaces for hip hop artists to create and perform dance and music. With dozens of recording studios and classrooms, the centre will be important for local artists to turn their hobby into something much bigger.

Importantly, for the same reason that attracted artists to hang out in the Les Halles in the first place, the centre will still be blessed by the nearby metro station, which will allow people to come together from all across the city, including its vast suburbs.

As we learned from the artists we met, the space to perform and record in the city is important. Because after all - hip hop isn’t just about unity – it’s also about success.

Urban sociologist and geographer Severin Guilliard told us, “Parisian urban space is something that artists can use and reproduce… it’s going to be easier for artists in Paris to succeed in rap music, than the artists coming in from other areas of France.”

The city of Paris gives hip hop musicians resources and connections, and this enables them to compete on a global scale – even with the United States.

If you want to find success in the Parisian rap scene, you don’t need to search much further than Gaellino 'Lino' M’Bani.

From the early days of rapping with his brother in Arsenik, he remains today one of the godfathers of French hip hop. Perhaps it was the images from his recent video clip which had stuck firmly in my mind, but I have to admit, as we welcomed him into our hotel, I felt a little intimidated.

It didn’t take long however, before we realised that there was nothing to be intimidated by. Like the artists we’d met before him, Lino was with us to talk about the scene and the city he loved. When we mentioned that we’d met with “Pumpkin” before him, his eyes lit up, “oh yeah I know her - she’s good!” There was no doubt that he shared a unity with the other artists across the city. Lino summed it up best himself, “Paris is the capital where everything comes together”.

The sad events from a couple of weeks before had shocked the world, but there was no doubt that Paris was resilient. Clearly, music has played a strong role in creating such a strong and unified city... Vive la Paris!

Check out the film below.

Tom

INSTAGRAM

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.

INSTAGRAM

The world is going two-wheeled: what's stopping Sydney?

Sydney’s transportation network is in crisis. Decades of dependence on the car have left the roads congested, the air polluted and residents - well – fat. Furthermore, with the city’s cheaper housing stretching out into its vast western suburbs, expensive and lengthy commutes have perpetuated the growing divide between the rich and poor. But we all know that cars in cities really are a thing of the past. Over the past couple of decades there has been mounting evidence that building more roads does not alleviate congestion and traffic within urban areas.

On top of research, dependence on the personal automobile is something that millenials no longer value or desire. Unlike American films of the 1970s, young people don’t want a car for their 18th birthday. In fact, an American study has found that driving by young people decreased by 23 per cent between 2001 and 2009. Today, people want to live in walkable neighbourhoods, close to places of work, education and friends. And surely, no one wants to be the designated driver.

Driving a car simply doesn’t offer a person in the city the freedom that your own two feet or a bicycle does.

For a long time, I dreamed that Sydney would embrace a cycling culture modelled on the success of Copenhagen. Copenhagen’s street design allows children to bike around cruise safely and freely, and encourages spontaneous social interaction during the daily commute.

Unfortunately, I began to give up on that dream sometime in my early 20s. I’m not sure if it was the time I was doored by a taxi on Oxford Street, the time I was thrown to the ground by a cop for riding on the pavement, or the time a guy in an SUV tried to ‘intimidate’ me by actually drive right into me. Or perhaps, it was one of the many other times that I feared for my life because a car driver didn’t see me.

After years of abuse on the roads, it’s become hard to imagine that things will ever change.

While the problems faced by bike riders may seem commonplace in many cities across the world, other cities are changing very quickly. And Sydney is not keeping up.

In many cities, we are seeing an urban transition. New York, LA, London, Paris and Mexico City, to name just a few, are all investing heavily into bicycle infrastructure, lowering speed limits and planning new transit networks. Even China is realising the transformational effects biking and cycling infrastructure can play. Hangzhou recently opened the world’s largest bike share network with over 60,000 bikes and almost 2,500 docking stations.

This is more than just a trend. By incorporating best practices in cycling infrastructure, cities across the world are seeing improved public health, a decrease in congestion and improvement to retail in high streets. Forward-thinking local governments realise this and start building segregated bike lanes and other cycling infrastructure – not more roads.

So, what's stopping Sydney?

In most conversation about bikes in Australian cities, you hear all sorts of strange arguments. ‘It’s too hot’, ‘too hilly’, ‘we aren’t dense like European cities’. In his book, Cycling Space, Tasmanian-based architect and academic Steven Fleming has shown us how ridiculous these arguments really are. Cities with some of the most extreme temperatures or have built environments characterised by massive amounts of sprawl have far higher levels of cycling than Australian cities.

The major problem in Sydney is poor communication. More specifically, the problem with Sydney is the Daily Telegraph.

New York has recently invested in miles of bikes paths and a hugely successful bike share system. Yes, there has been a lot of debate about these changes in the media. But the debate has been relatively balanced and healthy in the media.

Unlike New York, Sydney doesn’t seem to enjoy a very healthy dialogue in mainstream media. Particularly when it comes to a conversation about bikes. It’s not a debate when the media is dominated by Rupert Murdoch.

For months on end, we’ve seen article after article in what is a blatant attack on pro-bike politicians, policies and journalists from the Daily Telegraph. And the problem with any democratic planning system is that poor communication easily leads to poor decision-making.

But it gets much more personal that that. The way in which cycling ‘accidents’ are portrayed in the paper is downright disgusting. Roads were built for bikes and people, not cars. Yet cars take the lives of dozens of riders every year. How dare the telegraph misrepresent cycling deaths by blaming improper safety equipment. Cyclists are vulnerable road users and cars are to blame.

Sydneysiders know what’s good for our city. We know that more roads are a not the solution. So why do we put up with it? The generation before us didn’t.

Sydney’s Green Bans of the 1960s and 70s were a struggle that helped to give people in Sydney the freedoms they have today. Glebe, Redfern, The Rocks and Centennial Park, would not be the beautiful places they are today if it weren’t for Jack Mundey and the BLF.

Throughout the 1970s thousands of people joined a movement to ensure that the physical nature of our city was protected, preserved and enhanced, not destroyed by oversized development and inner city motorways.

If we want to see a better Sydney, it’s time we collectively stood up to bad press and poor planning decision. Write news articles, share experiences, tell planners that you wish to ride your bike safely and freely. It’s time to take the development of our city out of the hands of Murdoch and into our own.

No, Sydney is not a European city. But now is the time to make it just that little bit more like one.

Feature image courtesy Amsterdamized.

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).

Will La Sagrera help to stimulate the barcelonian economy?

The recession continues to cripple the Spanish housing market.

While Barcelona remains is one of the strongest cities in the country, high unemployment rates, low wages and a decline in foreign investment means that many residents are unable to pay housing rental and services bills. And as a result, homelessness and mobbing continue to rise. 

Last week I travelled down to Barcelona to learn about the district being regeneration of the La Sagrera district. The Sagrera high speed railway station, promises to deliver economic growth through connections to Madrid and France.

The government has told the locals that the area will boom.  

But on the ground, I worry this could be a white elephant or an over-promise with false hope. Grandiose buildings stand empty, and the areas surrounding construction sites remain run down or derelict. 

The Spanish Government has a good record of promising loads of big stuff that will regenerate the economy, only to find that it creates more debt. Let's hope this isn;t another one. 

Time will tell whether or not this major development will actually see benefit for the local community. I hope to provide an update in a few years down the line. 

Sydney’s Barangaroo: Repeating Mistakes of the Past?

Casino tycoon James Packer, is bidding to build a resort-style casino on the Sydney's most central and beautiful foreshores - Barangaroo.

Every city has had its planning blunders. In fact, a number of monstrosities are probably being constructed near you right now. I’m sure you can name a few. Too often mistakes are made today because past errors have been too easily forgotten.

Throughout the 60′s, the Sydney construction industry was booming; skyscrapers were being erected across the central district, new motorways were extending into the vast suburbs and ex-industrial foreshore sites were quickly being developed into large housing estates as industry moved further inland. “Brave new world” masterplanning techniques embedded the development industry and the city saw the loss of some of its oldest buildings and most vital green spaces.

The Green Ban movement of the 70′s changed all of this. Between 1971 and 1974 around 40 construction bans were imposed by the Builders Labourers Federation to prevent the destruction of buildings or green areas. The most controversial was the ban to halt the redevelopment of The Rocks. After years of strikes and bloody confrontations, the plan to redevelop Sydney’s oldest suburb was altered to ensure strict preservation of historic buildings. Today,The Rocks is one of the city’s largest tourist destinations.

So, what did Sydney learn from the Green Ban movement? According to the new plans to redevelop Barangaroo, not a lot. While the bans did reform planning policy and change the development culture of the entire nation, it seems that in 2013, all has been forgotten.

Casino tycoon James Packer, son of the famous Kerry Packer, is bidding to build a resort-style casino (alongside multiple office buildings) on the city’s most central and beautiful foreshores – Barangaroo.

Interestingly, Barangaroo sits just down the street from The Rocks. So, with this in mind one would hope Packer has carefully considered the area’s history but it doesn’t look like it. All Packer seems to care about his how his “iconic project” can compete with Melbourne and China. With so much support for his development, it seems that the rest of the city has forgotten as well. If we’ve learned anything from Sydney’s past, it’s that the preservation of itsnatural features, particularly the harbour and foreshores, are what has made it such a globally attractive city.

Cities don’t succeed by copying others. Rather, they become far more unique and exciting by learning from their mistakes and enhancing their best features. I don’t know about you, but I’d say another tacky casino doesn’t seem to fit that mould.

Click here to check out this article on the Urban Times.

Feature image courtesy aussiegall/Flickr.

The revolution of the wheel

Photo by Scott Schuman 

I was riding my bike the other day, watching the cars stuck beside me in traffic. How crazy is it that the simple 19th century invention of the bicycle is still one of the best (or THE best) forms of transport that we have.

In many ways I feel like the wheel has almost completed an entire revolution. The rise of the car in the 1950s and 60s led to the reshaping of entire cities, first across the USA, and then the world. Once centered around walkable shopping districts and train lines, they began to spread into vast suburbs and homogenous urban landscapes. So too did the car change our way of thinking. It became a symbol of freedom, a symbol of maturity and a form of identity.

So what happened?

Just like in other aspects of modern society, we have begun to realise that growth is not necessarily sustainable. We can no longer keep producing without recycling, we can no longer own large homes on large blocks of land, and we can no longer all drive to work. There are simply too many of us. And yes, one could argue that we could spread our wings and repopulate and revitalise 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 spacey rural areas generally have far greater environmental impacts than those in cities.

Exploring London on my bike

We have begun to see a tipping point. Do we keep consuming, keep producing and keep driving until we can't anymore? Or do we take a new approach?

We have already begun to see a return to a more minimalist western society, particularly through the rise of collaborative consumption and the return of the bicycle.

With and without government support, the bike has begun to make a return across the world. Whether people are sick of waiting in traffic for hours of their day, whether they can't afford road taxes, or whether there is simply no space to park, people have begun to swap the car for the bike. For ten years in a row, bike sales have outstripped car sales in Australia.

Some may call it a trend, but I'd say it's all part of a bigger revolution.

Not every city will adopt bike use in the same way, and some cities won't adopt bikes at all. An array of factors will determine how, exactly, these wheels will revolve. Some cities never moved away from the bike in the first place (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.

Just like the revolution of a wheel, we are perhaps, returning to where it all began.

On that note, I'd like to leave you with a film called Brussels Express. There are a lot of bike messenger films out on the web at the moment, but this one is particularly brilliant. Through the perspective of one courier, we can see a city that is hitting its tipping point. Will the bike be the answer to its problems?

What makes Bondi famous?

Early mornings are always a good time to take photos down at Bondi.  

I was hanging out with my grandpa down at his favourite beach this morning - Bondi. After years of heading there with friends and family, taking photos, swimming and surfing, I thought it was about time I shared my thoughts on what is also one of my favourite places in Sydney. 

Bondi is one of the world's most famous beaches, and is incredibly special to Sydney. Located 7 kilometres from the Central Business District, it has always been the 'city beach' (my 95 year old grandpa wouldn't let you forget it), and is the face of almost every Australian marketing campaign - from Bondi Rescue to QANTAS advertisements to Oporto's Burgers. But what has kept Bondi beautiful is not its fame, or fortune... It is actually, the opposite.

Me chatting away on the phone while my friend Sam Doss patiently waits on... :) 

North-side view of the beach.

Surfers catching late afternoon swell.

Bondi has never peaked. It has never been too crowded, nor has it ever become overdeveloped. Transport to Bondi is difficult, parking is a nightmare and developers have never stood a chance. Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind.

Without a train line or multi-storey apartments, Bondi has managed to stave off Gold Coast-style developments that have been occurring across Australian coastlines. In doing so, it has managed to hold on to that small coastal town mentality and laid back vibe - even in the midst of tourist season.

Bondi may have become made famous because of its golden sand and surf breaks, but its the intimate character of its shoreline that has helped to keep it special, and stopped it from expanding at its own peril - like so many other coastal boom towns.