Cultural Archives - Azure Magazine

Out Now: The Climate Issue

Azure — Thu, 24 Oct 2024 12:56:00 +0000

Recently, we asked Tommaso Bitossi to explain “sufficiency before efficiency,” a core philosophy of Transsolar, where he works as an associate partner. “It’s about looking at how efficiency, in the past, has failed us,” he said. “In other words, our computers now are much more efficient than in 1995. However, now we have two laptops per person, one iPad, one smartphone et cetera…Or, our servers are now cooled very efficiently, but with the advent of A.I., we are exponentially increasing our need for data storage and computational power.”

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The gist: We need to craft our spaces to employ passive strategies for thermal comfort — and that means making the most of the site and climate, of natural light and breezes, and choosing materials and processes that are easy on the Earth. This approach can then be augmented by new technologies, systems and means of reducing — or neutralizing — the carbon footprint of a building’s construction and operations. First, let’s accomplish more through good design.

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Good design is synonymous with climate-conscious design in our Nov/Dec 2024 edition, which coincides with our inaugural Human/Nature conference, where Bitossi is a speaker. In our special climate issue, we spend time with Pat Hanson, whose Toronto firm, Gh3*, has brought profound beauty to urban infrastructure. (Beauty is also a need, and one that — together with sustainability, affordability, equity, inclusivity and many other exigencies — should be part of every brief.) We also feature an innovative social housing project in Spain by Peris+Toral, a Barcelona firm that bridges sustainability and affordability; and we speak with the activist architect Andrés Jaque about embracing complexity in order to better understand the myriad overlapping systems at work in any design undertaking.

ALSO IN THIS ISSUE

Detroit’s Cultural Renaissance

How the Library Street Collective is building resilience into the city’s arts scene.

Good Works

Six inspiring projects around the world designed with a climate lens.

Delicious Circularity

In Madrid, SelgasCano creates a stunning restaurant with a sustainable ethos.

Emerging Eco Materials

The latest building blocks and finishes for a fully green fit-out.

Holiday Gift Guide

Thoughtful – and design-savvy – recommendations for your holiday list.

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The Second Coming: A New Act for Detroit’s Little Village

Stefan Novakovic — Thu, 24 Oct 2024 12:50:00 +0000

In a Catholic church, the figure of Christ comes in many guises. From the cross atop the steeple and the constellation of representative paintings and stained-glass windows that frame the altar to the ritual transubstantiation of the Eucharist, a divine spirit permeates. On Parkview Street in Detroit, however, the blood of Christ is channelled into a surprising vessel.

Inside the Romanesque Revival parish, a portrait by American artist Jordan Eagles has painted the Saviour using fluid drawn from the vein of an HIV survivor. While the composition is a nod to Leonardo da Vinci’s Salvator Mundi — which the wall text notes set a record for the most expensive painting ever sold — the medium evokes the belief that Jesus gave his blood for all of humanity. Standing before it, I find myself contemplating both the meaning of Christianity and the commodification of art — and then a more prosaic reality: This is no ordinary church.

At The Shepherd, only a weathering steel entryway signals the sensitive transformation within.

I’m not sure whether to call it a church at all. After closing its doors in 2016, the house of worship then known as the Good Shepherd Catholic Church sat vacant. While the congregation merged with another parish, the majestic building itself faced an inauspicious future. Situated in an inconspicuous pocket of the city between the affluent communities of Indian Village and Grosse Pointe, the church — which anchored a once-thriving neighbourhood — was surrounded by a landscape of vacant lots and soon-to-be demolished homes, reflecting the pattern of post-industrial divestment and depopulation that shapes much of central Detroit. In 2021, however, the 110-year-old structure was announced as a future home for gallerists Library Street Collective, led by Anthony and JJ Curis.

The central block of the Little Village campus is anchored bu The Shepherd, while the adjoining rectory house is now home to a non-profit supporting BIPOC artists, as well as a bed and breakfast.

Three years later, the former church sits at the heart of the nascent but fast-growing Little Village arts campus. Framed by a new public sculpture garden and an inviting urban park, the venue now known simply as The Shepherd is a 1,300-square-metre gallery, library and community hub. Carefully restored and adapted by Brooklyn-based architects Peterson Rich Office (PRO), the intervention retains both the building’s imposing bones and its delicately intricate interior details. On the exterior, only the weathered steel arch that frames the main entry subtly signals the transformation from a sacred setting into a secular one.

Peterson Rich Office (PRO) carefully inserted a pair of large volumes into the church interior, deftly respecting the older building’s textures and datum lines.

Past the front door, the metamorphosis is at once obvious and understated. The vestibule has been turned into a reception and a new gallery volume has been inserted into the back of the nave. From the entrance, however, the interior maintains a long open view to the altar, preserving a sense of spatial and spiritual order. Combining the minimalism of a white cube with subtle texture and patina, the room is one of two similar exhibition spaces slotted into the building, while another new gallery space is tucked into the cruciform interior’s north transept. Beyond the two rooms, exhibited art is subtly woven through the church interior; larger works rest on the open floor, and smaller pieces adorn the columns — where I encounter Eagles’s Vinci — and the restored altar. Meanwhile, the south transept is given over to the Little Village Library, a reading room and book collection curated by Black Art Library founder Asmaa Walton.

A new gallery space is inserted into the north transept.

Complemented by comfortable tables and private reading rooms (adapted from erstwhile confessionals), the eclectic yet accessible collection spans from rare and historic art volumes to children’s books. A long stone bookshelf anchors the space, inviting visitors to read, study and hang out. “In an art gallery, people don’t think they can touch the books; they think it’s part of the work. So it’s important to have these spaces where you can interact with the books, take them off the shelf and read,” says Walton. Meanwhile, the altar and retained nave create an open space for community events and performances. (Days after my visit, a panel discussion and orchestral tribute to John Coltrane activated the space.)

The Black Art Library occupies the south transept, creating a welcoming open community space that conveys the comfortable scale of a room.

The integration of art with public space and community-building is central to both The Shepherd and the surrounding Little Village community. “The planning and transformation of the church was very much grounded in the idea of bringing people together,” says PRO co-founder Miriam Peterson. It’s a deft architectural feat. While the mix of uses feels intuitive and uncluttered, it’s an unusual medley — facilitated by equally unconventional design strategies. “On some level, it’s kind of a weird and radical thing to do, to put such big volumes into an existing building,” says Peterson, explaining that the new exhibition spaces “support the technical program of contemporary art gallery, but without undermining the ability of the church to continue to function in the way that a church historically has in a community.”

Above the entry pavilion, visitors can gaze down the gallery oculus and get up close with the historic church interiors.

This spirit animates the whole of the campus, where a landscape designed by New York–based OSD conveys visitors through the block. Alongside ample new seating and greenery (composed entirely of native plantings), a prominent sculpture garden honours legendary Detroit artist Charles McGee, extending the art program into the public realm. And, as with the gallery, the visitors comprise a mix of regulars and curious tourists, as well as neighbours and Detroiters of all stripes, including a trickle of former parishioners. As Shepherd artistic director Allison Glenn puts it, “We thought of the whole building — and the block — as a canvas. It’s all an invitation to explore.”

Outside, The Shepherd’s programming is extended into the public realm with a sculpture garden honouring Charles McGee.

The varied setting – which also includes a skate park designed by iconic skateboarder Tony Hawk and artist McArthur Binion and a gently elevated rolling lawn (a subtle nod to the curved apse of The Shepherd) – is knit together by gardens and footpaths. The porous network of gravel walkways elegantly transitions into a flood-resistant permeable parking lot that, when free of cars, doubles as a seamless extension of the pedestrian space. The walkways are enhanced by the addition of red brick, the interplay of hues introducing another sinuous highlight; the crushed masonry, salvaged from a local demolished building, also pays quiet homage to architectural context. “This is a place with history and meaning, and it should be respected,” says OSD founder Simon David. “There’s beauty in repair and re-use.”

Alongside the sculpture garden, a skate park, seating and open lawns round out the public realm.

Between the skate park and the raised lawn, a pair of houses has been combined into one. The two homes — a handsome Victorian and a 20th-century Detroit duplex — were both likely to be razed under the municipal Detroit Demolition Program. Fortunately, Library Street’s Anthony and JJ Curis had other plans. The duo commissioned local architect and Undecorated founder Ishtiaq Rafiuddin to reimagine the homes as a commercial setting with a bakery and a restaurant. Ingeniously, they are joined together by a shared porch. “Detroit has a really strong front porch culture, and we wanted to extend that tradition — where neighbours hang out and spend time together — into more of a public setting,” says Rafiuddin.

Undecorated has joined together two abandoned homes with a shared porch. A bakery (right) and restaurant (left) are set to activate the buildings.

It’s one of several works in progress. Across the street from Rafiuddin’s BridgeHouse, Los Angeles–based Lorcan O’Herlihy Architects is leading the development of a new venue for Library Street’s Louis Buhl & Co. gallery, which is devoted to celebrating divergent practices and showcasing artists at all stages of their careers. Also in the neighbourhood, the Curises have purchased, restored and sold a handful of formerly vacant and slated-for-demolition homes while working with Rafiuddin to add a modest influx of new housing stock. So far, recent neighbours include Canadian designer Brian Richer, local gallerist Isabelle Weiss and fine art photographer and former Detroit Lions defensive end Romeo Okwara.

The skatepark alongside BridgeHouse was designed by Tony Hawk and McArthur Binion.

There’s plenty more to come. Alongside BridgeHouse, a rear annex to The Shepherd is set to be filled out by a cocktail bar playfully dubbed “Father Forgive Me.” In the meantime, the old rectory has already been converted into a small bed and breakfast (ALEO), and its top floor now houses the headquarters of Modern Ancient Brown Foundation, a non-profit providing mentorship and support to emerging BIPOC artists and writers, including an on-site artist residency program. A block to the south, Library Street has engaged OSD — and celebrated New York designers SO – IL — to reimagine an underused marina and boat storage complex as an extension of the cultural hub, stretching Little Village to meet the Detroit River waterfront.

Inside the former rectory house, the ALEO bed and breakfast is distinguished by its large communal space and eclectic art program.

Two blocks north of The Shepherd, the latest addition to the neighbourhood is Lantern, an adaptive re-use complex designed by OMA. Largely surrounded by vacant land, the building’s crisp white exterior — perforated by rows of cylindrical glass blocks — emits an almost otherworldly evening glow. I’m having a hard time believing that OMA — freakin’ OMA — really has a project at the corner of Kercheval and McClellan. But as I start walking toward it, I don’t know if I’ll like what I see. From a distance, the pristine, glowing white box is all austere spectacle and starchitecture, with little hint of community or local culture. Still, I can’t deny how cool it looks, and I find myself quickening my stride in excitement as I approach.

OMA adapted a former industrial bakery — and its white cinder block extension — into a mixed-use hub dubbed The Lantern.

Up close, the place tells an entirely different story. I’m charmed to find the gleaming surface dissolves into a simple array of cinder blocks, the paint chipping into the visible grout lines and the spectacle resolving into an honest and ordinary Midwestern beauty. “We found a builder who would cut even holes into the cinder blocks, and then used relatively inexpensive, standard, mass-produced rounded glass to fill in the perforations,” says OMA partner Jason Long. The glass apertures, which playfully adapt the solid CMU wall originally constructed as a low-budget warehouse addition to the commercial bakery that previously occupied the site, signal a new public presence while maintaining the site’s industrial simplicity.

Up close, the monolithic white form dissolves into a simple array of perforated cinder blocks.

The entrance is around the corner and through a sheltered inner courtyard. Here, a broad public stoop announces a 2,071-square-metre mixed-use complex. Within the white volume, the courtyard — which combines accessible circulation with ad hoc seating — slides into the interior of popular watering hole Collect Beer Bar. On a Friday evening, the joint is packed. In the older side of the building, meanwhile, the former bakery is now home to non-profit letterpress studio and education hub Signal-Return, as well as the Progressive Art Studio Collective (PASC), which is dedicated to supporting artists with developmental disabilities and mental health differences. The Lantern is also set to welcome a clothing store and a café.

Accessed via a sheltered courtyard, Collect Beer Bar, PASC and Signal-Return all share a broad front porch.

On the patio, I sit down for a drink with Anthony Curis. I’d been nervous about meeting him. While I’m used to interviewing architects, many of whom relish self-important, pretentious language, they’re rank amateurs compared to their counterparts in the art world. Much as I’m genuinely impressed by what Library Street Collective has accomplished, I’m bracing for something esoteric. Yet I’m relieved to find that the man sitting across from me sounds more like a plain-spoken Midwestern hockey dad than a heavyweight gallerist and property developer. “We’re not by any means saviours to the neighbourhood or anything like that,” says Detroit-born Curis. “And our goal isn’t to play landlord but to help others build equity. None of this is even a real estate play — it’s about creating interesting and welcoming spaces and finding new ways to celebrate art.”

Collect Beer Bar riffs on the site’s industrial heritage, with raw, simple finishes and OMA’s new sawtooth roof.

As Curis puts it, Little Village started with a new gallery — The Shepherd — and organically grew from there. “Instead of expanding to another city, we decided to double down in Detroit,” he says. Although the intent was never to build a neighbourhood, supporting a thriving arts community means more than renovating a church into a gallery. To bring people to the neighbourhood, whether as visitors or residents, you have to build new housing and hospitality venues, as well as green spaces and other public amenities. In the coming years, Library Street will also turn its focus to addressing more complex yet fundamental community needs, including a grocery market and non-profit artist housing. Throughout, the Curises have consistently partnered with — and celebrated — the Detroit community, from renowned artists to emerging voices.

The non-profit Signal-Return is devoted to uplifting the community and reviving traditional letterpress techniques.

These are good intentions. And good outcomes. Yet Little Village is also a reflection of Detroit’s uniquely depleted urban condition. Amid the demolition and depopulation, whole swathes of the city have been monopolized by individual actors. Prominent speculators, like Dennis Kefallinos, Matthew Tattarian, and so-called “blight king” Ernest Karr, have amassed dozens — sometimes hundreds — of properties, all while ignoring even the most basic maintenance and racking up a bevy of municipal fines and unpaid taxes as their property values rise. By some metrics, up to 20 per cent of the city’s real estate is locked up in speculation and the continued disinvestment it entails.

Across the street from The Shepherd, Lorcan O’Herlihy is transforming a half-demolished house into a new venue for Library Street’s Louis Buhl & Co. Gallery.

While Detroit’s more enterprising property developers offer a contrast — and sometimes a postscript — to speculative inaction, the results can be equally troubling. Over the past decade, businessman Sanford Nelson gradually purchased much of Detroit’s thriving Eastern Market neighbourhood — long a popular destination; these property acquisitions were followed by headlines proclaiming rising rents, store closures and perpetual conflicts with beloved local businesses. As Nelson himself told the Detroit News, some consider him “the devil incarnate.”

Immediately south of the Little Village campus, an underused commercial dock and warehouse is set to become Stanton Yards Detroit, a mixed-use destination master planned by OSD and featuring adaptive architecture by SO – IL.

Closer to Little Village, John Hantz vowed to transform Detroit’s lower east side into a utopian urban woodland. Although some 2,000 lots were cleared and thousands of trees were planted, the high-minded enterprise has produced little more than cover for simple speculation: As stretches of scraggly monoculture forest amounted to a half-assed attempt at beautification, the investor reaped the benefits of growing property values. And while Dan Gilbert (whose real estate firm Bedrock owns a large stock of downtown) has genuinely revived much of the urban core, fellow billionaire land baron Matty Moroun shamelessly consigned the iconic Michigan Central Station to decades of decay until its purchase and restoration by the Ford Motor Company. Even award-winning Core City developer Philip Kafka has faced well-publicized tensions with tenants and community members.

Featuring a master plan by OSD, Stanton Yards is poised to extend the Little Village public realm to the Detroit River.

In a more socio-economically healthy city, such real estate monopolies are all but impossible. While the results vary, those in Detroit carry inherent risks not found in other cities, where the caprices of individual landlords are balanced out by a more varied and competitive market. So far, Anthony and JJ Curis have made the right decisions. Still, as I walk back from the bar into the warmth of the late summer evening, I find myself wondering about the degree to which their vision — as genuinely altruistic and down-to-earth as it is — is shared by the wider local community.

I’m spending the night at ALEO, the church rectory lovingly transformed into a bed and breakfast. By the time I get into bed, the last of the lingering sun has disappeared behind the horizon. I worry about how well I’ll sleep, especially given how dead quiet Detroit can be at night. As a lifelong city guy, I prefer a din. And luckily, I get it. Outside, a group of casual revellers has gathered in OSD’s gravel parking lot turned community space. Their cars are parked with the doors open and music playing. I’m thankful for the noise, but more importantly, I’m relieved to see the place truly alive. They must have done something right after all.

In the morning, I awaken to a very different noise. It’s early on a Saturday, and I’m usually loath to leave bed on a weekend. But the peals of children’s laughter and the rolling thrum of rubber wheels on concrete pique my interest. I start to feel the excitement emanating from the crowd gathered at the skate park. Before I know it, I’m brushing my teeth and getting dressed. I can’t wait to see what’s up.

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Snøhetta Delivers Shade and Rain Filtration Outside an Austin Museum

Eric Mutrie — Thu, 24 Oct 2024 12:33:00 +0000

Greenery harnesses sunlight and rainwater to spectacular effect — and the best designers are following suit. In addition to introducing 25,000 new plants to Austin’s Blanton Museum of Art, Snøhetta has also enhanced the cultural institution’s grounds (part of the larger University of Texas at Austin campus) with Moody Patio: a forest of 12 fan-like fibreglass sculptures that cultivate their own enchanting relationship with the elements.

When it’s sunny, the shade structures provide relief from the heat while decorating nearby pathways and facades with dappled shadows created by small perforations in each of their petal-shaped panels.

And when the clouds roll in to the Blanton Museum of Art in Austin,...

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Signal Festival 2024

Fri, 27 Sep 2024 16:37:05 +0000

The Czech Republic’s annual cultural event, the Signal Festival, returns to Prague. Combining contemporary visual art, urban space and modern technology, it is the most visited cultural festival in the country. This year, for the first time, the Signal Festival will transform Prague Castle into a projection area and gallery zone, with two routes that will allow visitors to explore popular and lesser-known parts of Prague alike. The first route will lead through the Prague Castle District and bring the castle to life, allowing visitors to see select parts of the castle and Prague hotspots in a new light, while the second route will wind through digital and creative culture hotspots in the Old Town and central Prague, featuring works by renowned Czech and international artists. Titled Ecosystems II: Quest, this year’s festival will showcase 22 installations by prominent artists that will be displayed on both routes, including seven exclusive to the Gallery Zone.

Also for the first time, the Signal Festival will host the Signal Forum conference, a European creative forum organized in collaboration with the Slovak festival Sensorium, that will take place on October 11 and 12 at CAMP in Prague. With 15 internationally recognized speakers, allowing attendees interested in 21st-century trends to choose amongst a range of lectures, workshops, and other activities rooted in the festival’s main theme.

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Sanjay Puri Unfurls a Spiritual Journey in Rajasthan

Fri, 30 Aug 2024 20:40:38 +0000

The site itself is spectacular. The Statue of Belief is a 82-metre-tall monument to Shiva – the world’s tallest – in Nathdwara, Rajasthan, India. In its base building, Sanjay Puri Architects has crafted a marvellous, multi-faceted venue that seeks to move people in more ways than one. The firm describes the Aatma Manthan Museum as a place to “evoke self-analysis, bringing together a holistic combination of the soul (aatma), mind (mana), and body (tann).”

Measuring 1,672 square metres, the Aatma Manthan Museum is divided into a series of rooms that lead visitors on a spatial and spiritual journey, while connecting them to nature – and outer space – via immersive displays.

Sanjay Puri Architects sets the scene in the foyer, a “fluid volume” of voluptuously curved surfaces, from the bulbous ceiling and mushroom columns to the smooth-edged bench seating that appears to organically emerge from the walls and melt into the floor. All of these elements are finished with a thin layer of sound-absorbing foam concrete; the result is a luxurious blanket of monotone grey that makes the entire setting seem sculpted. The only detail that feels as though it’s been added to the interior are the segments of semi-circular track lighting that follow the ceiling’s curves.

When they exit this striking welcome area, visitors embark on a voyage through 18 sequential zones, including the “zone with elements,” the “semi-immersive zone,” the “fully immersive zone,” and the “transition zone.” From an undulating corridor that projects digital images of the making of the museum, the rooms unfold with various themes amplified by sound and wall-to-wall visuals.

One of these immersive A/V installations depicts a geological landscape that fully envelopes visitors. In another space, museum-goers are confronted with their own reflections, multiplied by a zig-zagging mirror wall and a floor polished to icy perfection, or – when this same space morphs into a visual spectacle – the awesomeness of the cosmos, with the planets suspended before them.

There are also smaller spaces and nooks where visitors can enjoy intimate experiences that bring them in communion with nature and with their own inner worlds. Sanjay Puri Architects’ Aatma Manthan Museum is a stunning space with a captivating program of immersive experiences that will doubtless cajole people away from their smartphone screens – to take in the marvels of the universe.

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Out Now: Our Sept/Oct 2024 Issue Delves into Cultural Projects

Azure — Thu, 22 Aug 2024 13:30:00 +0000

Where does culture get made? How is culture experienced today? For our Sept/Oct 2024 issue we sought out to cover the types of culture that are emerging and how places are being designed to accommodate them. We also wanted to get super-meta and interrogate how architecture culture itself thrives and falters in connecting with the masses. Sydney Shilling’s excellent essay on the subject is a conversation about and meditation on what the profession can do to make design discourse accessible to those outside the industry.

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In the projects we feature throughout this edition, we hope to expand the definition of culture as it’s normally viewed in the realm of institutional architecture — and to hone in on works that stretch design’s possibilities in housing these new expressions. Ergo Othership: When he visited one of the spa’s Toronto locations, senior editor Eric Mutrie tapped into the growing phenomenon of wellness-centred spiritual affirmation. With its group sessions in guided meditation, sauna immersion and cold plunges, Othership is a major player in a global spa movement that is providing space for those hoping to commune with like-minded souls, sans alcohol. And through its warmly lit design by Futurestudio, the setting encourages members to get deeply personal in a social hub.

We do still like our food and drink. So we also spend time at Waterworks Food Hall, where many hands have made an authentic place that celebrates the best of Toronto’s dining scene. The Waterworks building’s transformation from an art deco public utility into a bustling culinary market demonstrates the wondrous possibilities of adapting heritage architecture — which already has a firm hold on the public imagination — into new centres of culture. We see this, too, in our cover story on the Plato art gallery in Ostrava, Czechia. That project revamps a former slaughterhouse into a stunning locus of contemporary talent. At the urban scale, we present the revitalization of a riverbank landscape in Mexico for use as a public park with meaningful and interconnected infrastructure that hosts recreational and cultural events.

ALSO IN THIS ISSUE

The Pink House

SHEEEP designs a home for a Toronto couple that is filled with big, bold colour and character.

Quebec City’s Promenade Samuel-De Champlain

Daoust Lestage Lizotte Stecker recreate a shoreline park that celebrates local memory and heritage.

Spotlight: Lighting

Scene-stealing chandeliers, a walkable light sculpture, eclectic fixtures and so much more.

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The Stunning Art Gallery in the Old Slaughterhouse

Joann Plockova — Thu, 22 Aug 2024 13:25:00 +0000

Inside Plato Contemporary Art Gallery in Ostrava, Czechia, several visitors stand around a wall gaping in fascination. They are gazing not at art but rather at a portion of the wall that is slowly rotating open. Thick and putty-grey, the massive moveable architectural feature is adorned with the traces of the window and door once integrated into this part of the building’s facade. As it slowly opens into a position fully perpendicular to the structure, the wall reveals the view outside to the Ostrava Stodolní train station across the way and the gallery’s surrounding green space.

The rotating wall is one of six facade features in this transformation of a 19th-century slaughterhouse into a new contemporary gallery for the city....

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In Mexico, the Papaloapan River Park Is Reborn – With Help From Architecture Firm Entorno y Contexto

Ana Karina Zatarain — Thu, 22 Aug 2024 13:20:00 +0000

The city had turned its back on the riverbank. Despite its potential to function as a vital public space, the area that lay between the Papaloapan River and the city limits of Tuxtepec — an industrial town in Oaxaca, Mexico — had become something of a liability. Locals largely avoided it; a nearby brewery’s operations had silted up the water, making it unnavigable, and informal settlements and merchants had cropped up on the unkempt land. Recent years had seen the local government make occasional efforts to draw families back to the green space — installing playgrounds, soccer fields and basketball courts — but these perfunctory measures inevitably fell short.

“The attempts to activate the area were unsuccessful because they were disjointed, rather than being part of a comprehensive plan,” explains Alejandro Polo Lamadrid, an architect and urban planner, and the founder of Mexico City–based studio Entorno y Contexto EC0. “It’s a beautiful landscape with an abundance of trees, but it wasn’t being taken advantage of.”

Entry into the Papaloapan River Linear Park is via stilt-propped buildings.

That all changed in 2020 when SEDATU — the federal Secretariat of Agrarian, Land and Urban Development — enlisted Polo Lamadrid to design the Papaloapan River Linear Park, spread across 4.5 kilometres of the riverbank. Just the year before, SEDATU had initiated the Urban Improvement Plan, which has since revitalized more than a thousand public spaces across the country, most of them in areas lacking infrastructure. It has done so through bold new architecture by the nation’s most renowned firms; these began with the Estación Tapachula in Chiapas by Colectivo C733 (which replaced a beloved train station destroyed by Hurricane Stan in 2005) and culminated in more recently inaugurated works like the Community Development Centre in Tabasco by Centro de Colaboración Arquitectónica (CCA).

The architecture firm devised four deep-red main structures as well as open-air amenities for sports, play, exercise and parkour.

When it came to the Papaloapan River Linear Park brief, government authorities’ understanding of the population’s needs and desires may have been just as noble, but they were largely intuitive and relied on general assumptions rather than direct engagement. Recognizing the importance of a methodical approach to the park program, Polo Lamadrid and his team conducted their own study.

The covered buildings feature brick brise-soleils and areas for commercial use, including concession stands.

They created an inventory of the existing infrastructure, mapping out the possible routes and patterns of movement within the area, and, through community outreach, built a solid sense of who the rejuvenated park would serve. “The scale of this project makes it different from smaller neighbourhood parks,” Polo Lamadrid explains, adding that, ideally, the park would be visited by people from both near and far. This called for a deep understanding of Tuxtepec’s society. “Which of their needs were covered, and which weren’t? What interested this specific community in terms of recreational, cultural and physical activities?”

Two sports courts under a raised building allow games to take place even in hot, humid weather. Integrated path lighting makes the park safer and more accessible at night.

A Mexico Community’s Gradual Embrace of a New Civic Hub

Centro de Colaboración Arquitectónica gives Jalpa de Méndez the public infrastructure it’s always deserved.

A group of runners, for instance, wanted an all-weather track, while soccer enthusiasts asked for natural grass pitches. Skateboarders and bicyclists requested their own spaces, and families hoped for shaded playgrounds for
children of all ages. The research also identified the need for open-air
theatres that could host a variety of cultural events, as well as a boardwalk
to connect an array of spaces for leisure and contemplation of the lush
natural surroundings: As part of the revamp, some 11,350 square metres of the park were landscaped and reforested, and a preexisting municipal nursery was refurbished to add areas for visitors to observe the regional vegetation up close.

To accommodate all of these activities, the design team devised a plan that connects open and covered recreation and cultural structures via a network of concrete and stone-paved pathways. It designed four 420-square-metre buildings — sitting atop stilts so they don’t flood during the heavy wet season — that link the park to the street. Their material palette makes ample use of brick, concrete and steel painted a dark red that recalls other public projects around the city, rendering it instantly familiar to the residents of Tuxtepec. “We wanted to use this design language so the community could feel a sense of belonging,” Polo Lamadrid says. Standing in pleasant contrast to the abundant greenery, there’s a resounding simplicity and sense of cohesion to the architecture.

A canopy provides shade for a stepped spectators’ perch for viewing soccer games.

Three of the buildings shelter multi-use sports courts under their flat roofs (the skate park, meanwhile, features a dramatic concrete vault). In addition to bathrooms, changing rooms and seating areas, the buildings also incorporate commercial spaces, such as refreshment stands, that are rented out to aid the park’s self-financing model. (“When the city invests in a project of this scale,” Polo Lamadrid explains, “they solve one problem but create another: Future administrations inherit the ongoing expense to keep it in shape.”) Four grass soccer pitches; sandboxes furnished with amenities for exercise, play and parkour; and a 1.3-kilometre permeable running track round out the offerings.

Ramps provide access into and egress from the sunken landscape of the Papaloapan River Linear Park.

The exercise equipment is robust to handle everything from swings to parkour.

By the end of 2023, and with the unveiling of each phase of construction, people began to flock to the resuscitated landscape. “The soccer fields are already in operation and a basketball league is coming,” the architect says, “and their tournaments now last into the night.” This is largely thanks to universal accessibility measures — including lighting, urban furniture and signage — devised in collaboration with the firm GIZ. The Papaloapan River Linear Park’s diverse attractions now cater to various interests and age groups, making it a place where all residents of Tuxtepec can come together.

The skatepark of the Papaloapan River Linear Park is under a dramatic vaulted roof.

Perhaps the most accomplished elements are the scenic views of the water from the buildings’ observation decks — reminders of this natural habitat’s integral significance to the town’s identity. “Indeed, our main intention,” explains Polo Lamadrid, “was to repair and recover the historical memory of the Papaloapan River and its relationship to the people of Tuxtepec.”

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Taking Stock of the Sudden Rise in Design Merch

Eric Mutrie — Thu, 22 Aug 2024 13:01:00 +0000

Design industry merchandise has long carried its own form of niche cultural cachet — a faded Alessi T-shirt or souvenir Molteni&C tote is sure to earn you a knowing nod from a fellow subway rider. But at this spring’s trade fairs, novel brand extensions were more prominent than ever, and an increasing number of products now position furniture-maker logos akin to fashion labels.

During Copenhagen’s 3daysofdesign festival, branded brews were the toast of the town. Hay collaborated with the Danes at Carlsberg to reimagine their beer can in blue and green stripes, while Muuto teamed up with craft brewery To Øl for custom booze stamped with the furniture-maker’s slogan, “New Perspectives.” More than just a place to launch products,...

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The Olympic Breakdancing Scandal Through a Spatial Lens

Jay Pitter — Tue, 20 Aug 2024 18:33:24 +0000

As the flames of the Olympics fade, continued conversation about Rachael Gunn’s abysmal breakdancing performance persists. Passionate debate has been focused on her lack of technical breakdancing skills and basic self-awareness. However, the fundamental issue with this year’s breakdancing controversy is deeper than — and extends well beyond — the performance of any one individual. The problem is stripping away the place-based significance and sacredness of breakdancing itself and narrowly positioning it as an Olympic sport.

According to media outlets such as USA Today, the inclusion of breakdancing in the Olympics was a strategy to “appeal to younger fans and add an urban flair to the Summer Games.” In focusing on including breakdancing to reach new demographics, a fundamental question went unasked: Can a public space ritual and performance, emerging from a specific ethno-racial, class, and cultural context, become an Olympic sport?

The answer may have been absolutely. After all, most sports emerge from specific place-based and cultural contexts. For example, cricket finds its roots in south-east England and is now one of the most popular sports played in India and Pakistan, both former colonies of the British empire. Basketball was invented by a Canadian residing in the United States of America, and today, the sport is largely dominated by African American players, in part due to the accessibility of a ball and hoop. The historical connections between sport, place and culture are well documented. However, negating the spatial and cultural aspects of breakdancing at this year’s Olympic competition created the conditions for chaos.

In the fall of 2021, my placemaking practice — located at the nexus of urban planning and social justice — was contracted by the City of Toronto to develop a proposal and high-level program framework to guide the development of the City’s first-ever cultural district program. I opened the proposal by referencing Hip Hop because I wanted to highlight the complex dimensions of culture beyond a traditional performative sense, and because I am a part of the Hip Hop generation. I wrote:

Hip Hop emanates from the inner city in the early 1970s during the post-industrial era amid economic decline and seismic political shifts, disproportionately impacting racialized inner-city communities. Youth, like DJ Kool Herc who is lauded as the “Father of Hip Hop,” flooded the New York City streets, searching for a platform for collective expression and opportunity. With its emphasis on the drumbeat and elongated break, Hip Hop created a musical breath for rapping, and other interrelated elements such as breakdancing, graffiti, entrepreneurism, community values and a new urban dialect. It transcended the bounds of artmaking — its breakbeat was a political breath within the margins.

The people who infused life into breakdancing, and Hip Hop more broadly, were primarily of African descent along with Latinx people who co-shaped its culture alongside them within their communities. Like all Hip Hop elements, breakdancing was more than a sport or performance. In some instances, breakdancing battles diffused conflicts that could have become physical, and some young men, like the guys from my ‘hood, breakdanced on the streets for money to purchase lunch or help out their mothers.

Back when I was growing up, breakdancing was a kinetic language and precious gift between people who lived in public housing communities, and it was a way of being seen and boldly asserting personal value beyond the confines of those same communities. Whether we danced or not, it was a part of our place-based identity and pride.

Since that time, breakdancing, and Hip Hop more broadly, have become regarded as a universal artform, which is fitting given its early message of love, unity and community. However, it has always been place-centred, whether at the hyper-local block level or bi-national level, with explicit regional distinctions. Also, the most respected and authentic artists practicing Hip Hop or any of its inter-related expressions, tend to have lived experiences of the margins — low-income ‘hoods, trailer parks and Indigenous reservations. Rachael Gunn claims to have an academic understanding of the “cultural politics” of breakdancing. However, regardless of racial identity, having an embodied, community-centred understanding of breakdancing is paramount.

But again, this issue isn’t about Rachael Gunn.

The Olympics’ narrow framing of breakdancing as simply sport is indicative of a much larger institutional and individual pattern with decoupling Black cultural expressions from Black bodies and Black communities. This phenomenon is older than redlining and as current as the forces of gentrification erasing Black people from their culturally rich communities. Due to the transatlantic slave trade and the proprietorship of the plantation, Black people are often deemed placeless. As a result, individuals of all identities regularly erase and fail to respectfully attribute Black cultural practices and the places that make them possible. There isn’t a broader understanding that these practices — and even the fraught places they are created within — are why Black culture wields such distinct popular potency.

While it is exciting to share, experience and embrace each other’s cultures, acknowledging places of origin and the people who poured their lifeblood into cultural expressions is crucial. Failing to extend this basic form of respect to all people has consequences far greater than online vitriol and embarrassing memes. Specifically, the consequences for Black communities include significant Black cultural sites being excluded from heritage designations, disproportionate displacement of Black businesses amid urban revitalization projects and lack of investment in Black cultural hubs. While a horrendous — and for some comedic — Olympic performance seems trivial and perhaps unrelated to these prevalent placemaking issues, they are symptomatic of the exact same systemic pattern.

Just as most municipalities lack the systemic processes and policies to counteract centuries of spatialized anti-Blackness, the Olympics also lacked systems to address the same. From the woefully incomplete framing of the introduction of breakdancing as an inaugural Olympic sport to the glaring lack of representation among the judges — during both the qualifiers and the main event — there was inadequate cultural infrastructure to support success. The care wasn’t taken to build a unifying bridge between the ‘hood and the Olympic stage. What resulted was an all too predictable invisibility and display of unhealthy spatial entitlement. This was the real problem behind this year’s Olympic breakdancing debacle.

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Jay Pitter, MES, is an award-winning placemaker, adjunct urban planning professor and author whose practice mitigates growing divides in cities across North America. Her forthcoming books, Black Public Joy and Where We Live, will be published by McClelland & Stewart, Penguin Random House Canada.

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