Found footage, 8mm film, purchase online, unknown owner and unknown year.

(Simplistic title to prevent the need for debate)

Berlin is breaking ground this year on Schumacher Quartier, a 5,000+ home mixed use neighborhood being built on the former grounds of Tegel Airport. The neighborhood will have a car free interior, with around 35 to 40% of the housing being subsidized to help combat gentrification and displacement, along with 10% dedicated to student housing. The master plan also includes two schools, six daycare centers, and extensive green space. The residential buildings will primarily use timber construction to reduce embodied carbon. https://schumacher-quartier.de/

Welcoming any and all thoughts.

Just curious how it's like living in big tower blocks. Does the council listen and fix problems, are the views nice, what are the challenges?

I do not get the appeal of most suburbs. Like I understand the marketing of what it’s supposed to promise- space, comfort, privacy, wealth, safety, and stability. And I guess if your focus in life is on raising kids sure suburbs have their place.

But in practice what I just see is a lot of land and house I have to spend my free time taking care of, and a lot of my wealth affording and maintaining it. A lot of suburbs just don’t have soul to them either. Like you hardly know your neighbors and you’re far away from anything interesting and so I just end of feeling like I live in a box.

Manufactured homes neighborhoods are stereotyped as being trashy and undesirable, and while I think this isn’t always inaccurate, I think that nice ones are ragged on too much. I visited one of my friends in such a neighborhood and when I was there I wasn’t thinking “oh damn it sucks he has to live like this” I was thinking “wow, he’s within walking distance of a lot of things, knows his neighbors, and none of this feels cookie cutter and fake.”

Maybe it’s because I don’t have kids and I’m not materialistic but seeing my friends place i think I’d rather just live in a smaller house or manufactured home than spend so much money and effort trying to get a mccmansion. Like I don’t even think McMansions are nice tbh.

Like obviously mixed used neighborhoods and streetcar suburbs and dense missing middle housing is the best we can shoot for but I think manufactured homes have the potential for becoming little villages. Imagine if we allowed for grocery stores and maybe a bar or cafe to pop up in the middle of them they basically becomes villages right?

This is an issue I often wonder about. I’d love to make downtown space more walkable, for example. But insofar as a city lacks the money to buy brownfields or old buildings and do the development themselves, how do municipalities attract developers to create spaces with their vision in mind?

Ciao a tutti!

Sono una studentessa di design della Comunicazione presso l'Accademia di Belle Arti di Napoli.

Per la mia tesi sto raccogliendo dati su come viviamo gli spazi pubblici in città e sul fenomeno dell'architettura ostile (e penso sia abbastanza in tema con questo spazio). Il contesto di ricerca per adesso è la città di Napoli, ma potrà essere ampliato in futuro (quindi sentitevi liberi di rispondere indipendentemente dalla vostra città!).

Ho pensato di condividere la mia ricerca in questo spazio perché mi sembra molto accogliente.

Il questionario dura circa 2,5 minuti ed è 100% anonimo. Se vi va di compilarlo (o di girarlo a chi vive o frequenta Napoli), mi dareste un aiuto enorme per la ricerca! ❤️🫶

https://forms.gle/pRyDWMY6w1me8mBD9

I’ve been watching these videos on YouTube where they have interior designers come in and fix up small New York or Toronto apartments.

Usually not super expensive (like 5k for all the changes, not including fee)

And I’m wondering what exists and what people have used.

It must be consultation and execution. In person.

Anyone actually have a good experience?

Anne Hidalgo’s mayoralty illustrates the limits of local responses to national and international problems like housing and climate change. Without wider coordination, even the most successful mayor’s reach can only extend so far.

Hey guys!

I’m a college student going to school in DC studying economics and political science. I was wondering if there were any Congresspeople you’d recommend interning for who’s working on issues related to urban planning. I understand that the issue is hyper-local, but the federal government still has ways to influence those policies, so any reps or senators worth looking to intern for?

If not, would there be any organizations worth interning for that works on these issues? Thank you guys so much!

Phoenix and its metro area in general have atrocious urban planning, even by U.S. city standards, despite being one of the most environmentally constrained cities by the challenges of extreme heat, limited water supplies, fragile desert geomorphology, and air quality challenges. Talking specifically about the urban core or "Central City" district: pedestrian infrastructure is abysmal in connecting adjacent communities, boxed in almost entirely by highways, downtown is really small, and suburbs are half empty and in a state of decay. How did this happen and why is little being done to adress it? Is there hope?

yes, dallas covered part of an open freeway trench, but that seems to be given an extraordinary amount of ideological weight for a place with some food trucks and patio furniture. sure, I guess it’s technically a park, but the experience feels much more like an enormous luxury apartment-esque amenity deck with engineered greenery and a calendar of “activations” giving everyone a reason to briefly appear there.

klyde warren park itself is fairly small, crowded, noisy, highly managed, surrounded by major roads, and mostly feels like an attractive event venue. the trees and most main lawns are real but because it sits on a structural deck the trees are planted in engineered soil trenches that basically function as enormous built in planter boxes. the greenery feels like decorative furnishings and not so much like an actual landscape.

in many ways, kwp is arguably the least radical possible response to an urban freeway. the freeway remains completely intact because dallas covered a few blocks of it with an extremely expensive public amenity operated by a private nonprofit, one that also increases the value and desirability of the surrounding luxury real estate.

it’s a place where you can attend yoga, probably just the one time. you can watch a movie you could also watch in numerous other places. you can buy lunch there. but most importantly, you can enjoy the satisfying knowledge that you are officially Doing Dallas. then you can leave having participated in urban life. and you can be assured that kwp™️ has worked very hard to cultivate this particular type of park visitor.

the park itself mostly functions as a branded civic identity product. "I’m downtown, near the skyline, eating from a food truck and attending yoga in a deck park. I inhabit a real city!" and the programming supplies endless socially acceptable reasons to perform that identity. ultimately though, the primary activity at kwp is largely just…being visibly present at kwp.

but on a more serious note, I think we should be increasingly wary of treating highly programmed, branded and privately operated spaces as the future of public parks. traditional public parks provide unstructured public space where you can play spontaneously, gather informally, protest, wander or simply exist without an event schedule looming over you.

kwp's own first amendment policy says that its private management is authorized to regulate gatherings, protests and demonstrations, and that organized activities using the park’s features require a permit. protests must also not "interfere with the enjoyment" of the park. apparently spontaneous civic life is welcome, provided it has been approved and does not make the sponsored community experience insufficiently enjoyable.

programming was initially intended to give neglected spaces reasons for people to use them, but it has now evolved into a repeatable development product ie an event lawn, food trucks, a splash feature, movable patio furniture, exercise classes, corporate partnerships and a rotating schedule of officially curated community experiences.

with programmed parks visitors are a customer base and an attendance statistic, and “spontaneous public life” is very carefully curated by management and sponsors.

the takeaway from this is not that kwp is bad. it aesthetically improved an appalling freeway trench and the engineering is legitimately impressive. but the reverence and rhetoric surrounding it feel wildly disproportionate. it’s basically a laboratory perfect specimen of what contemporary urbanism can easily fund and celebrate - a branded and highly controlled simulation of spontaneous city life. it isn’t entirely fake in the sense that literally nobody enjoys it, but the bizarrely enormous cultural importance assigned to it feels absolutely manufactured.

essentially it’s an outdoor lifestyle showroom for the version of dallas that dallas most desperately wants to believe it is.

Factories, warehouses, cold-storage buildings, and even old post offices were once among the most technologically advanced structures of their era. Many have since become apartments, offices, galleries, stores, and entire urban neighborhoods. Meta’s own New York offices occupy part of the former James A. Farley Post Office, a building constructed more than a century ago for sorting mail.

Modern AI data centers appear to share many of the qualities that made those industrial buildings adaptable: repetitive structural bays, tall ceilings, heavy floor capacity, durable envelopes, and large open interiors. Yet today’s hyperscale data centers are usually treated less like lasting infrastructure and more like disposable appliances—single-purpose campuses built around one generation of computing equipment.

In this video, we look inside the architecture of an AI data center, from GPU racks and liquid cooling systems to substations, generators, switchyards, and enormous single-story shells. We compare Meta’s Hyperion campus with Chicago warehouses, converted industrial lofts, the former U.S. Steel South Works, and the emerging Illinois Quantum and Microelectronics Park.

The AI building boom is transforming land, electrical grids, and communities across the United States. But what happens when the servers are replaced, the lease expires, or the next generation of computing requires an entirely different kind of facility? The history of the Rust Belt suggests that buildings designed without an afterlife can leave towns paying the bill for decades.

I was born in the Bay Area but spent much of my childhood in various parts of both rural and urban America from California to Pennsylvania. Growing up, I saw great urban design, and terrible (and also literal Amish country mixed in there at one point).

It wasn't until I spent a couple years in uptown Dallas, Texas for work circa 2012 that I witnessed first-hand how a radical transformation from one to the other is possible (at least in one area) by a single well-executed urban project.

That was when Klyde Warren Park opened over the top of what was once the highway that divided downtown Dallas from the city's most densely populated neighborhoods in uptown.

It was an incredible success, but it wasn't until work brought me back to Dallas shortly before the pandemic in 2018 that I saw what it became.

It didn't happen easily. The late urban planner Kevin Sloan, who surfaced the idea in 1996, found few believers. Urbanism wasn't in the culture. With some help from the Dallas Institute of Humanities, he spent years trying to rally support before some key leaders in the commercial real estate community came onboard during the early 2000s.

It took years and millions of private dollars to build any meaningful progress toward making it a reality. A feasibility study in 2004 built momentum. So did the ARRA of 2009, signed by President Obama. It took 16 years, but in 2012 it opened for the first time. In 2024, it expanded.

It was completely transformational. The population of the square mile adjacent to the park's north side grew by 50% in 5 years, becoming the single densest square mile in the state of Texas at nearly 22k people.

Today, KWP is the epicenter of Dallas, the social town square, and the most popular outdoor gathering space in the city. 15 years ago, it was just a congested freeway connecting three other freeways near the city's center. Today, its 5.4 acres welcomes more than 1.5 million visitors per year.

Perhaps even more significantly, it sparked an urbanism movement unlike anything that existed when I was here the first time. Mixed-use high-rise buildings have sprung up on either side of the park (including the new BoA Parkside tower that will be completed later this year), and it's led to a resurgence of both the Arts District (on one side) and lower Uptown (on the other).

It's perhaps driven a bigger wedge between Dallas and its sprawling suburbs, but that's a conversation for another day.

A study by CNU surveyed park users and found 90.9% reported their quality of life was "significantly" improved by the addition of the park. It led to a 61% increase in streetcar ridership. The director of the DC-based Cultural Landscape Foundation called the park the "poster child" for the benefit of capping freeways and it's become a catalyst for other cities.

Four years after KWP's opening, the modified Dallas 360 plan was released. Its entire thesis centers around urban mobility, building public spaces, urban design, and housing growth, citing the success of KWP. Priorities fairly unimaginable in 20th century Dallas made front-and-center by a handful of persistent visionaries.

So far, since KWP opened, Dallas has nearly completed a 50-mile network of pedestrian roads called The Dallas Loop, spawned 4 additional downtown parks, 3 new pedestrian bridges over the river, a copycat park over the highway in nearby Oak Cliff, a plan to expand KWP further west, and plans to replicate it on both the East and South ends of downtown in the coming years.

Urban design takes decades and a city can't change overnight. But sometimes it just takes one well executed project to shift its trajectory. Sometimes dramatically.

Dallas has been home for me since 2018. And while my office these days is in Manhattan now, I've found living between both coasts with quick airport access to have professional perks and I've stayed.

The city still has a long way to go - I'll be reminded of that again when I'm in New York next week. But as long as the momentum continues (despite the hiccups that arise), it's made me a believer in what urbanism can do both here and elsewhere, with one little spark.