More trees and music please…

Décarie highway seen from Monkland avenue, NDG, Montréal. Photo by C.A.Roy

Monkland avenue overpass, NDG, Montréal. Photo by C.A.Roy

Monkland avenue sidewalk, NDG, Montréal. Photo by C.A.Roy

View across the sunken highway, NDG, Montréal. Photo by C.A.Roy

Our cities have become shaped by the augmented use of automobiles as the main mean of transportation and it is becoming more and more complex to undo what has been done. As demographics evolved over time, the natural solution to growing needs of displacement around the city was to widen the roads and highways or temporarily deviate the traffic.

If you are a walker and live in a north american city where large automotive beltways and heavy traffic highways intertwine with prominent spaces, you have most likely experienced the dry and dusty air of early spring days, not to mention the unpleasant dominant sustained noise emanating from speeding vehicles. Of course, everybody must get around and race about town to make it to their meetings on time, but we can all agree today that cars and speedways have dictated the rhythm of our lives for too long.

For the past fifty years, politics and major projects have owned a fair share of this undesired effect, but all citizens are equally to blame for letting things drift by in time, waiting for the next big invention to relieve them from this plague. Surprisingly, the next great technological revolution that came to save us from driving for miles and miles to meet each other was a device that turned us away from one another more and more: the smart phone. For more than ten years now, we have become dependent of these devices to communicate and stay entertained, neglecting our natural and built environment for the instant benefits of retreating into our very own micro environments. Major infrastructure projects and small devices have helped define the spectrum through which cities are evolving today. Now that we can travel great distances within a city’s area and stay connected at all times through our phones, how can we mend our cities progressively without making regrettable changes that are difficult to repair after fifty years?

Small interventions piloted in close proximity to the sources of these ailing effects could be very beneficial. Affixing vegetation and positive masking sound sources near highways in medium to high density city areas, directly or close to pedestrian and low vehicular traffic areas could help us learn how to reduce the negative impacts that vehicular generated pollution and noise can produce. This is not new information and the positive effects of planting and providing ambient music in public spaces have been demonstrated for some time now. But what if we implemented these interventions at small scales in multiple areas of the city, to discover the impacts on a broader scale than just in public spaces? Instead of inviting people to the parks, bring the parks to the people.

There is an initial cost to this approach which seems hard to overcome because the short term return on investment is not as attractive as bringing more people to large consumer friendly areas. Because the car can take us anywhere, we have given our cities strategic locations where certain types of activities can take place. But what if we implanted the joyous formulas that we have reserved for specific locations throughout the city’s neighborhoods, spread out in multiple areas, but connected to one another? Does this already exist? If so, why are we still planning to develop large commercial centers in and around the city? Why are we still enlarging or renovating highways and beltways? There must be a more progressive way to develop interconnected neighborhoods and districts by involving citizens, decision makers and authorities…

The MuCEM’s J4 and symbolism in Marseille’s old port

 

The J4
Photo by A. Tailleur

The fibre-reinforced concrete outer envelope of the J4 building at the MuCEM has been compared to a mantilla veil, culturally appropriate for Marseille’s geographic location. Designed by Algerian born architect Rudi Riciotti, this exhibit complex is one of three buildings forming the Musée des civilisation de l’Europe et de la Méditerranée, France’s first national museum to be built outside of Paris. Marseille was chosen as Europe’s 2013 city of culture and the long awaited revitalization of its old port has come to fruition. Fort Saint-Jean, the eldest of the three museum buildings, has been renovated and adapted in a challenging physical as well as symbolic context.

 

Fort St-Jean
Photo by A. Tailleur

The J4 and the CCR (Center for Conservation and Resources) Photo bt A. Tailleur

Louis XIV gave Fort Saint-Jean to the people of Marseille in 1660 and no matter how fond of this fortress, the marseillais have since endured a physical break at the port entrance caused by the fort’s tall palisades. The J4 building has reconciled this discontinuity in scale between the port and the city. Behind the grey concrete latticework, a second skin to the museum’s glass box, a series of outer ramps and stairs constitute a promenade from the water side to the top of the fortress. This ascent from Mediterranean sea to a major city is as symbolically important as the theme selected for the museum’s first exhibit: Le Noir et le Bleu. Un rêve méditérranéen (presented until January 6th 2014). 

The fibre-reinforced concrete mantilla veil
Photo by A. Tailleur

The old port
Photo by A. Tailleur

 

Illustrated in Goya’s and Miro’s work, the mediterranean dream has indeed been tinted in black and blue: black for Goya’s depiction of the price of the idea of civilization in the 18th century, and blue for Miro’s utopian, symbolic interpretation of the mediterranean basin. Also part of the exhibit is a passage that reminds us that democracy was highly inspired by looking at its founding region, admiring white greek temples that were once colorfully painted, but mistakingly remembered for their purity. In fact, at the exhibit entrance lies Walter Benjamin’s quote:  … ” there is no document of civilization which is not at the same time a document of barbarism”. But the J4 is without a doubt a joyous proof that some cities progress.       

 

Six storeys and outer ramps reconcile the height difference between the port and the Fort St-Jean. A promenade in a fish net…
Photo by A. Tailleur

Royal Albert Hall: Music for the people

Royal Albert Hall Photo by C.-A. Roy

Royal College of Music photo bt C.-A. Roy

Royal Albert Hall is the figurehead of Albertopolis, a South Kensington city block comprised of architectural wonders built for Londoners, following Prince Albert’s vision. This architectural gem of the Victorian era was inspired by ancient amphitheatres and gives place to an exceptional city experience, both from inside and outside. The building offers a panoramic view of the stage as well as the audience on the inside. Outside, it is rimmed by the Royal College of Art to the West, the Royal College of Music to the South, and Kensington Gardens to the north.

The regulars of this area stroll on Exhibition Road, a promenade with wide pedestrian paths leading people straight to the park, or to a small conglomeration of cafés and restaurants, walking along museums, institutes and university buildings. Exhibition Road gets its name from the 1851 Great Exhibition, held at the Crystal Palace, in Hyde Park. Royal Albert Hall was a continuation of this international event. It is still a successful venue today because it is the fruit of a genuine desire to bring people together under the same roof to experience and discover music of all kind.

Royal Albert Hall: BBC Proms photo by C.-A. Roy

During the BBC Proms (Promenade Concerts), people in the arena can either walk around, stand, or stare at the color illuminated diffusers while laying down on the floor, listening to the concert. This informal way of participating to a classical concert is the reflection of a changing and adapting society, mixing music genres  and placing the celebration of songs and airs before all else. And the pure geometry of this building permits such change and adapting, seemingly with almost very little effort. It surely has been carefully thought out… Every City should have one.