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Urban Patterns

Urban Patterns | Havana, Cuba

“Sent to spy on a Cuban talent show, First stop- Havana au go-go,
I used to make a living, man, Pickin’ the banana, Hooray for Havana!”
— Havana Affair, The Ramones

Urban Patterns | Havana, Cuba
by Dr. Mark David Major, AICP, CNU-A

Havana is the capital city, major port, and leading commercial center of Cuba. The city proper has a population of 2.1 million inhabitants and it spans a total of 728 square kilometers (281 square miles), making it the largest city by area, most populous city, and third largest metropolitan area in the Caribbean region. Havana lies on the northern coast of Cuba, south of the Florida Keys, where the Gulf of Mexico joins the Caribbean. The city extends mostly westward and southward from the bay, which is entered through a narrow inlet and divides into three main harbors: Marimelena, Guanabacoa, and Atarés. Havana was founded by the Spanish in the 16th century and, due to its strategic location, served as a springboard for the Spanish conquest of South America, becoming a stopping point for treasure-laden Spanish Galleons on the crossing between the New World and Old World. King Philip II of Spain granted Havana the title of City in 1592. Walls and forts were built to protect the old city. Contemporary Havana can essentially be described as three cities in one: Old Havana, Vedado, and the newer suburban districts. Old Havana, with its narrow streets and overhanging balconies, is the traditional center of Havana’s commerce, industry, and entertainment as well as being a residential area. To the north and west a newer section – centered on the uptown area known as Vedado – has become the rival of Old Havana for commercial activity and nightlife. Centro Habana, sometimes described as part of Vedado, is mainly a shopping district that lies between Vedado and Old Havana. Chinatown and the Real Fabrica de Tabacos Partagás, one of Cuba’s oldest cigar factories, is located in the area. A third Havana is that of the more affluent residential and industrial districts that spread out mostly to the west. Among these is Marianao, one of the newer parts of the city, dating mainly from the 1920s (Source: Wikipedia).

Satellite view of Havana, Cuba from 10 km (Source: Google Earth, 2013; Data SIO, NOAA, US Navy, NGA, GEBCO; TerraMetrics © 2013 and DigitalGlobe © 2013).

The urban pattern of Havana, Cuba can be best described as a patchwork of regular and regular-like grids that vary in scale in terms of the length and width of streets and block sizes. Most streets in Havana can be fairly described as straight. Their lengths tend to vary based on the local grid pattern and whether any particular street is carried through and embedded within another adjacent grid or terminates at the edges of its own grid. In this sense, the urban pattern of Havana appears remarkably similar to that of Athens, Greece, which is also composed of a patchwork of small-scale (mostly) regular grids. There appears to be the pattern of scale in the urban grid related to the age of a local area, forming a somewhat radial pattern from the harbor to the southerly and (more so) westerly direction. For example, Old Havana has the smallest scale regular-like grid in the city (smaller blocks, shorter streets) though the overall geometric order of the urban grid in this area is less consistent than in younger areas of the city. For example, contrast this with the increase in scale of the regular grid in the Vedado area to the west of Old Havana or the generous scale of block sizes, street lengths and widths in the highly geometrical grid of Marianao area along a different cardinal alignment in relation to the shoreline of the coast to the extreme west (partially visible at the left edge of the above satellite image).

(Updated: July 12, 2017)

Urban Patterns is a series of posts from The Outlaw Urbanist presenting interesting examples of terrestrial patterns shaped by human intervention in the urban landscape over time.

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Architecture, Editorial, Mark David Major, Poor Richard, Urban Planning

More Poor Richard | Part 10

More Poor Richard, Part 10
by Mark David Major, The Outlaw Urbanist contributor

Courteous Reader,

I attempted to win your favor when I wrote my first Almanac for Architects and Planners, in the name of the public good and professional betterment, by way of earning some profit and a wife. I am gratified by your expression of encouragement for my tireless efforts dedicated to these aims. Alas, my circumstances still find me exceedingly poor and, unluckily, exceedingly wifeless. I am required to earn some profit to address both problems whilst now addressing a third, namely testing the proposition that insanity is “doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.” To satisfy my own particular brand of insanity, I have written more proverbs and whimsical sayings for your benefit and, hopefully, my own.

As before on The Outlaw Urbanist, I write this new Almanac in increments of ten, according to the dictates of Moses and the Almighty. However, once published as an Almanac for Architects and Planners, the proverbs and witticisms were gathered into a number equal to the days of the week, after being reliably informed that both seven and ten are sacred numbers. My desired requirement for a wife is sufficient motive to write this new Almanac in the hope it will find your favor and retweets as a means of demonstrating the usefulness of my continued efforts but also your charity to this sane Friend and poor Servant,

Richard

On Architecture and Cities

91.       Excessive use of beige represents an irrational fear of white.

92.       A skyscraper isn’t any more a penis than a basement is a vagina.

93.       The horizontal brevity of a skyscaper is inversely proportional to its vertical repetitiveness.

94.       Skyscraper (skí·skrãp·ər) To wear down the heavens without regard by forceful strokes of an edged or rough building.

95.       Too often, skyscapers are not about playing well with others but about playing excessively with yourself.

96.       Urban circle jerk: a tradition in which architects, usually men, design unrelated skyscapers in close proximity to one another

97.       Suburban circle jerk: the same as an “urban circle jerk” but with only smaller… er, buildings.

98.       Design is in the details, meaning in the whole.

99.       Urban planning suffers from a deficiency of heroes and an excess of sidekicks.

100.     Planning a great city is heroic. Dare to be a hero.

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Essay, On Space, Phenomenology, Philosophy

On Space | The Structural City

On Space | The Structural City
by Dr. Mark David Major, AICP, CNU-A

The spatial experience of the city is a child’s playground of structures, of a faraway multitude and its near-invariants, a beingness trivial and noble, earthy in its dimensions but astral in meaning. The foreground is composed as the background is configured, imposed by the actions of local actors but emerging on a global stage of meaning and consequence. We are its actors and the playwright, telling the story and bringing it to life for an audience that is ourselves, as if performance could thrive across a mirror of timeless depth and perception, an infinite recursion writ large and whispered softly. The city is a presentation – and representation – of our best and worst selves, of our past and our future, denoting significance in the moment of the present, the here and now of our lives, of the everyday errands of individual importance but (seemingly) societal inconsequentiality. We think, therefore we are but also we move, here we were and will be. These abstract and material constructions of the city reach for the horizon and to the sky, never attaining either but embedding the object with a purpose, with a meaning, and with a question that simultaneously transcends and surrenders to the entities populating the streets, spaces, and buildings of the city. It is transcendence and capitulation to the physical and the spatial, to the kinetic energy of movement and the static inertia of place, to the functioning of the urban object, that at once determines and allows its formation and articulation.

It is an entity that births and devours itself, this Urban Ouroboros, forming protective walls against unseen intruders and unknown dangers. We are the beginning of our story, its past prologue. We are at the center of our story, its extant climax. We are the edge of our story, its future denouement. But it is not the genesis, neither the center nor even the edge that carries the value of our actions. It is the path lying in-between, from where to here to there, from the mere act of marking a path in the landscape to the volatile core of our beingness in the city, and further to the tranquil border that defines the state of being within or without. The grid is the thing. The grid is its genesis, it generates and swathes, offering a translucent skin, which reveals the heart and muscle, pulse and rhythm of the city. Its skin is spelled out in the superordination of geometries both great and small, widths of mysteriously known paths, lengths of promising unspoken journeys, and rigid alignments of mass and light. Hierarchies are simply defined, and structures are mystically revealed in the body of the city; a city of collective memory, of shared purpose, and of forgotten desires that we carry along with us on the path. It is achieved with frightening efficiency, which we consciously retreat from, to our own detriment, yet cannot deny, to our own blessing. The dynamics of the city rise and fall with our intentions, with our mistakes, and with our unending beauty in the body of the collective. Its effects are systematic across and embedded within body and mind, perpetuating the rapid spread of malignancies and their antidote. A city is an object of cosmic imagination grounded in a foundation of our earthly desires and guttural sins. It all these things, and more… much more.

On Space is a regular series of philosophical posts from The Outlaw Urbanist. These short articles (usually about 500 words) are in draft form so ideas, suggestions, thoughts and constructive criticism are welcome.

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Art, Essay, The City in Art

A Compressed City of Time in Light | The City in Art

Wassily Kandinsky’s Moscow I (1916), oil on canvas, 49.5 x 51.5 cm, The State Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow, Russia.

A Compressed City of Time in Light | The City in Art
by Dr. Mark David Major, AICP, CNU-A

Wassily Kandinsky painted Moscow I in 1916 after he was forced to return to Russia in 1914 because of Germany’s declaration of war against Russia during World War I. The year 1915 was a period of profound depression and self-doubt during which he tried to build a new life at age 50 after living almost two decades in Munich, Germany. He did not paint a single picture. In 1916, Kandinsky painted Moscow I. He wrote, “I would love to paint a large landscape of Moscow — taking elements from everywhere and combining them into a single picture — weak and strong parts, mixing everything together in the same way as the world is mixed of different elements. It must be like an orchestra” (Becks-Malorny, Wassily Kandinsky, 1866–1944, 115). Moscow I contains some of the same romantic fairy-tale qualities of his earlier paintings, fused with dramatic forms and colors. “The sun dissolves the whole of Moscow into a single spot, which, like a wild tuba, sets all one’s soul vibrating” (Kandinsky, “Reminiscences,” 360).

At first glance, Kandinsky’s Moscow I appears to be a simple collage of landmarks, freed of the constraints of gravity and space, represented in a highly abstract manner by the artist. However, upon closer examination, there appears to be a logic to the almost spherical layout of objects composing the Moscow built environment (for example, the Kremlin is clearly represented towards the lower right). Using Kandisky’s own words about this painting as a guide (see above), we can hypothesize Kandisky placed these objects within the frame of the painting in relation to the time of day when each achieves its apex in terms of natural light and vibrant color, hence the almost spherical layout and luxurious richness of the hues. The spherical layout seems to mirror the path of the sun across the sky, or perhaps the daylight hours on the face of a clock. In this sense, Kandinsky’s Moscow I is a notional ‘clock of the city’, representing for us the optimal passage of time to see the collected objects of the city as shown in the painting. If true, then it is a clever means to elevate the painting beyond mere collage, above the mere randomness of collected objects that are compressed and freed of space. It also embeds his representation of Moscow with a kinetic energy that metaphorically accounts for the activity of urban life itself, the city as more than a mere collection of things but as a thing that, in itself, is alive.

About Wassily Kandinsky
Wassily Kandinsky (born December 16, 1866, died December 13, 1944) was a Russian painter and art theorist. He is credited with painting the first purely abstract works. With the possible exception of Marc Chagall (who was born/educated in Russia but adopted France as his home in adulthood to the point of being considered a “Russian-French” artist), Kandinsky is probably the most influential Russian artist in human history. Born in Moscow, Kandinsky spent his childhood in Odessa but later enrolled at the University of Moscow to study law and economics. Successful in his profession, he was offered a professorship (Chair of Roman Law) at the University of Dorpat where he began painting studies (life-drawing, sketching, and anatomy) at the age of 30. In 1896 Kandinsky settled in Munich, studying first at Anton Ažbe’s private school and then at the Academy of Fine Arts. He returned to Moscow in 1914 after the outbreak of World War I. Kandinsky was unsympathetic to the official theories on art in Communist Moscow and returned to Germany in 1921. There, he taught at the Bauhaus school of art and architecture from 1922 until the Nazis closed it in 1933. Like Chagall, he then moved to France where he lived for the rest of his life, becoming a French citizen in 1939, and producing some of his most prominent pieces of art. He died at Neuilly-sur-Seine in 1944. Unlike Chagall, Kandinsky never attained the status of being (in part) a French artist but has always been considered a definitive Russian one (Source: Wikipedia).

The City in Art is a series by The Outlaw Urbanist. The purpose is to present and discuss artistic depictions of the city that can help us, as professionals, learn to better see the city in ways that are invisible to others. Before the 20th century, most artistic representations of the city broadly fell into, more or less, three categories: literalism, pastoral romanticism, and impressionism, or some variation thereof. Generally, these artistic representations of the city lack a certain amount of substantive interest for the modern world. The City in Art series places particular emphasis on art and photography from the dawn of the 20th century to the present day.

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Architecture, Essay, Mark David Major, Philosophy, The Biblical City, Urban Planning

The Biblical City | Part 3

The New Jerusalem by Mollie Walker Freeman (2013).

The Biblical City: Redux
By Dr. Mark David Major, AICP, CNU-A The Outlaw Urbanist contributor

Can the Holy Bible tell us anything about urbanism?

It might seem unusual to investigate the Holy Bible for information about urbanism but the idea is not completely off-the-wall. In fact, it’s the subject of a fascinating 1997 study, The City in the Bible: A Relational Perspective, by the Jubilee Center in Cambridge, England and commissioned by the Anglican Church of England (Crook, 1997). The Jubilee Centre is a non-profit Christian social reform organization that “offers a biblical perspective on issues and trends of relevance to the general public” (Source: Jubilee Centre). Other writers have also examined biblical descriptions of city planning, such as those found in the Old Testament books of Leviticus and Ezekiel (Gallion and Eisner, 1963; Frick, 1997; Reps, 1979; Hawkins, 1986). However, the most comprehensive research appears to principally derive from a social science or religious studies perspective instead of architecture or urban planning. In part, this is understandable since it’s almost impossible to separate religious doctrine from any investigation of the Holy Bible, whatever the subject. The expressed purpose of the Jubilee Centre study is to explore “God’s view of today’s city (and) how modern Christians should address urban problems” with particular emphasis on the “local action” of Christians in “political and community involvement” (Crook, 1997; 5-6).

Crook (1997) correctly points out the commonly accepted, anti-urban stereotype of the Holy Bible – and presumably of God, which reached its apex beginning in the 19th century with social reformers such as Ebenezer Howard, persisting to this day – derives from popular culture perception of its most famous stories; the Garden of Eden, the construction of the Tower of Babel as a rebellion against God, God’s wrath against Sodom and Gomorrah, Jewish revolts against Rome, and Jesus’ entry/subsequent crucifixion in Jerusalem. It is an incomplete picture but even Crook is somewhat guilty of playing to this anti-urban stereotype in his 1997 study, arguing cities began and continue “in sin and rebellion… violence… corruption and oppression” (7). This statement can be equally applied to humanity in general, and not necessarily only cities in particular. However, the overwhelming majority of references to the city in the Holy Bible are neutral (see The Biblical City, Part 2), and the two most important in the New Testament are positive. As Crook (1997) concedes, “cities… represent a microcosm of God’s redemptive plan. The Bible begins in a perfect garden, but ends in a redeemed city, the New Jerusalem” (6). Jesus first introduces this microcosm of God’s plan using the city as a metaphor during the Sermon on the Mount, saying, “You are light for the world. A city built on a hill-top cannot be hidden” (NJB Matthew 5:14). In 1630, this was the source for Puritan John Winthrop’s sermon, “A Model of Christian Charity”, promoting a “city on a hill” that would become Boston. During the 20th century, John F. Kennedy and Ronald Reagan expanded on this reference in expressing an ideal of American exceptionalism as “a shining city on a hill” and a model for the entire world. In all three cases, the city is presented as an ideal to achieve (be it God’s salvation, Christian charity, or American exceptionalism) and not merely a hotbed for sin, violence, and corruption. One is forced to wonder how our planning of contemporary cities might be improved if we started from the premise that the city is a Divine ideal to achieve instead of an Earthly problem to solve.

References                  
Crook, A. 1997. The City in the Bible: A Relational Perspective. Cambridge, England: Jubilee Centre. Report commission by the Anglican Church of England.

Frick, F. 1977. The City in Ancient Israel. Princeton: SBL Dissertation Series 36.

Gallion, A.B. and S. Eisner. 1963. The Urban Pattern: City Planning and Design, Second Edition. Princeton: D. Van Nostrand Company, Inc.

Hawkins, P. 1986. Civitas: Religious Interpretations of the City. Atlanta, Georgia: Scholars Press Studies in the Humanities.

Reps, John W. 1979. Cities of the American West: A History of Frontier Urban Planning. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.

NEXT: The City of Wisdom

The Biblical City is a new series from The Outlaw Urbanist.

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