Urban Magazine Volume 35 - Spring 2025

URBAN MAGAZINE | VOL. 35- FUTURES

LETTER FROM THE EDITORS WHAT WILL THE FUTURE HOLD? Where Volume 34 of URBAN Magazine reflected on the past 25 years of writing, designing, and planning produced by our wonderful contributors, Volume 35 looks forward to the next 25 years. This Volume aims to act as a time capsule of urban thought that reflects our shared hope and dread, failures and successes, and uncertainty and opportunity that permeate our professions today.

As planners, designers, and architects, we are the visionaries who create the future with every new project we create. These futures are at constant odds with reality and each other; we are constantly negotiating with the world around us through debates and decisions to arrive at a shared future that, hopefully, is better than the present. Along the way, let us not get lost in false futures of dystopian, inhuman, or draconian design.

The collection of pieces within Volume 35 reflect the dreams and anxieties of urban thinkers today. Some imagine AI-driven solutions to common design problems. Others are weary of futures that forget the past. Together, they illustrate a weaving of diverging and converging imaginaries from contributors who are already shaping our cities through their work.

We hope you enjoy reading Volume 35. It is an honor to continue URBAN Mag’s 25-yearlong legacy of editors and contributors collectively working to capture the zeitgeist of urbanity with each new issue. Hopefully in 25 years, the next generation of urban thinkers will reflect on this issue with wonder.

WHAT DID WE MANAGE TO GET RIGHT? AND, PERHAPS MORE IMPORTANTLY, WHAT DID WE GET WRONG? With so much love for our cities and their people, Jaron Kaplan, Jane Cole, and Jessica Gonzales

Contents

05 SECTION 01: CRITIQUING THE PRESENT 07 STREETS

HI HA ROBA ESTESA! A MANIFESTO FOR HANGING LAUNDRY ON THE

11 19 23 29 33

Olímpia Solà Inajara

HOME BEYOND WALLS: RETHINKING HOUSING FOR AN INTERCONNECTED FUTURE Madlen von Wulffen

SPATIAL ODDITIES: ON MIXED-RACE FUTURES TJ Yoshimura Small

CRACKS IN THE PLASTER: THE MERCHANT’S HOUSE FACES DOWN A SHADOWY DEVELOPER John Sandman

NEOM: AN INNOVATIVE FUTURE OR A FAMILIAR FALLACY? Yerandy Pacheco

ENTER THE UTOPIA LAB: FUTURE MAKING WITH URSULA LE GUIN’S OMELAS AND ODO Julian Krusic O’Donnell

39 SECTION 02: REFLECTING ON THE PAST 41

HOPE FOR MOSCOW

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PLANNING FOR INNOVATION: THE CASE OF BERLIN-ADLERSHOF

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THE EVANESCENCE OF SPATIAL EMPATHY

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Elizabeth Kostina

Benedetta von Palombini

Bimo Wicaksana

CLEOPATRA'S NEEDLE, NEW YORK: SIGNIFICATIONS, RESONANCES, AND APPROPRIATIONS India Halsted

57 HACKING INFRASTRUCTURE

HOW TO BREAK A CITY? FROM DISMANTLING THE CITYSCAPE TO Seunghu Kim

Contents

61 63

SECTION 03: PONDERING THE ROLE OF ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE IN CITIES IN 3050

Alessandra Colombo

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LINGOBIM: FROM WORDS TO DESIGN — A NATURAL LANGUAGEDRIVEN WORKFLOW

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FROM CONFLICT TO CONSENSUS: AI-DRIVEN ENGAGEMENT FOR COMMUNITY-CENTERED URBAN DESIGN

75 77 83 85 89 93 97 101 105

John Xianfeng Jiang

Manas Bhatia

DREAMSCAPES OF URBAN FUTURES: NAVIGATING THE VIOLENCE OF ATTAINABILITY Adnan Juzer Kasubhai

DELHI: REIMAGINING A SOUTH ASIAN CAPITAL AS AN AI-DRIVEN SMART CITY FOR ALL David Sathuluri

SECTION 04: SPECULATING ON THE FUTURE ANTICIPATING THE 'FLOOD-LINE' Vaibhav Gurung

RETHINKING THIRD SPACES: A POTENTIAL SOLUTION TO THE LONELINESS EPIDEMIC Zachary Rosman

THE RISE OF RURALISM: RETHINKING SETTLEMENT PATTERNS Salonee Ghosh

STREET STYLE: DESIGN NOTES ON THE FUTURE OF FIFTH AVENUE Ethan FLoyd

THE FIGHT AGAINST BIODIVERSITY LOSS: BUILDING VERTICAL BIODIVERSITY THROUGH CLIFF ECOSYSTEM HABITAT ANALOGS IN THE URBAN ENVIRONMENT Megan Haralovich

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

Florentina Anastasia and Kevin Trikusumo Febriansyah

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CRITIQUING THE PRESENT

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HI HA ROBA ESTESA!

A Manifesto for Hanging Laundry on the Streets

OLÍMPLIA SOLÀ INARAJA Olímpia Solà Inaraja is an architect from Catalonia (Barcelona) who studies Critical, Curatorial & Conceptual Practices in Architecture at Columbia University. She enjoys researching the city and the intersection between architecture and other artistic disciplines. In her free time, she reads, practices figure drawing, and strolls around New York.

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Hi Ha Roba Estesa!

to host freshly washed and rinsed garments. Despite the frequent use of electric dryers in many countries, in warmer regions, the most common practice is to take advantage of the sunlight by hanging clothes to dry.

Viewing the city through the lens of laundry intersects planned urbanism with habits of everyday life — domestic practices belonging to the private sphere subtly infiltrate into public space.

Image by author

As I scroll through my Instagram feed I constantly come across rows of more or less orderly sheets, often embroidered or plain white, colorful towels and patterned dresses swaying in the warm, summer breeze. Some are color-coordinated, others arranged more arbitrarily.

This spread of fabrics involuntarily decorates facades — usually those in the centers of Mediterranean cities or small towns that the people I follow have chosen to visit during their holidays. Like the brushstrokes of an impressionist painting, these garments contrast with the gray tones of the local stone, the red of bricks, or the broken white layers of lime plaster built up over the years. The changing decoration adds saturation and life to the urban landscape. This ancient and everyday routine — hanging washed clothes to dry outside — has become another element in the aestheticization and romanticization of our lives, evoked by social media.

For years, I have been building my own collection in a folder on my phone’s photo gallery: the clothes drying on the balcony of the neighbor across from my small apartment in a peripheral neighborhood of Barcelona; white sheets fluttering in the wind outside a rural house in a coastal area of Brazil; garments dancing to the rhythm of the train’s vibrations, each day a new performance along my commute to work… The examples are infinite.

What started as a purely superficial hobby — how pleasant it is to watch a white sheet swaying to the rhythm of the wind! — has turned into a real obsession.

Beyond what this laundry reveals about its owners, its public appearance has a political dimension. Clothes are hung on the street or on facades in places where the inner courtyards of buildings (if they have them) are too narrow to provide adequate ventilation, or in complexes that lack a community rooftop for drying. The street itself also influences the suitability of these public spaces

In today’s context, the presence of laundry is also a sign of resistance. Amid the growing touristification of many Southern European cities, the natural and somewhat "traditional" act of hanging underwear, t-shirts, pants, towels, and sheets on the balcony has become a revolutionary act. It is proof that there are still neighbors, that a community resists the gentrification and AirBnBification (the process by which housing in a locality is converted into short-term rentals for tourists) of historic centers.

The political meaning of laundry in Barcelona’s public space has shifted over time. Under Francisco Franco (1939–1975), Barcelona suffered deliberate urban neglect, held in collective punishment for its Republican past. By 1986, with slums still widespread, the city, eager to modernize, sought to erase visible signs of poverty, such as clotheslines disrupting its European aspirations.

The “Barcelona, posa’t guapa” (Barcelona, make yourself beautiful) campaign (1985) marked a bold attempt to renew the city’s image, restoring facades and public spaces. Led by Ferran Ferrer and Mayor Maragall, it transformed urban aesthetics, integrating guapa — the feminine 'beautiful' — into the Catalan language through striking advertisements and public-private revitalization efforts. The campaign also revealed a gendered approach to Barcelona’s identity, personifying the city as feminine, in line with its linguistic

For years, I have been building my own collection in a folder on my phone’s photo gallery: the clothes drying on the balcony of the neighbor across from my small apartment in a peripheral neighborhood of Barcelona.

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construction. The famous 1988 advertisement likened the city's beautification to a female beauty ritual, with a woman applying makeup and undergoing a transformation (BCN Paisatge Urbà, 1988). This parallel reflected the campaign’s call for citizens to take responsibility for the city’s aesthetics. The slogan “Posa’t guapa” was an imperative, emphasizing the active role the city and its people had in this renewal. By the end of its run, the campaign had achieved unprecedented results, with nearly 60,000 interventions on residential buildings, marking a new chapter in Barcelona’s urban landscape and its relationship with beauty, identity, and civic responsibility. It's somewhat ironic that while the city was being "feminized" through “cleansing” operations designed to uphold a pristine public image, the everyday labor of washing and drying clothes — traditionally carried out by women and long rendered invisible — was itself gradually erased from view.

For the first time in its history, Barcelona succeeded in fostering a collective social awareness regarding its urban image, uniting citizens around a shared goal of beautifying their city. This movement, sparked by the “Barcelona Posa’t guapa!” campaign, not only targeted physical improvements, such as the cleaning of facades and public spaces, but also catalyzed the emergence of the concept of an "urban landscape." The campaign placed the aesthetics of the city at the forefront of public discourse, cultivating an appreciation for the urban environment as more than just a functional space, but as a symbolic reflection of its people and their collective identity. This new appreciation towards the urban landscape crystallized with the creation of the Municipal Institute of Urban Landscape and Quality of Life in 1997. The inclusion of "quality of life" in its name wasn’t accidental; it reflects a longstanding goal of improving both the city's aesthetics and its livability. Two years later, the Ordenança dels Usos del Paisatge Urbà de la Ciutat de Barcelona (Ordinance on the Uses of the Urban Landscape of Barcelona) was passed. Though it’s been tweaked over the years, its core remains intact, including the rule that declares: "Hanging laundry on façades facing public streets is prohibited." The reasoning? Hygiene, sanitation, and safety—the same arguments Ildefons

Cerdà used to justify the creation of the Eixample.

Though the law is clear, in a Mediterranean fashion, it is often not followed. In older neighborhoods with little space in inner courtyards, such as the Gothic Quarter or El Raval, rows of garments continue to stretch across the streets, decorating the facades. These colorfully woven lines of laundry appear in tourists’ photographs, adding to the romantic tone attributed to Mediterranean cities.

In Catalan, the expression "Hi ha roba estesa" (there is laundry hanging) means that someone might be watching, that there are witnesses, or that someone may be listening. What was once seen as a marker of poverty to be eradicated has now become a form of resistance — there is, in fact, someone listening — a subtle yet poignant statement in the ongoing tension between preserving local identity and adhering to the glossy image the city projects to the world. As the city’s historic stones, bricks, and sgraffito facades continue to reflect its rich history and cultural heritage, it is impossible to overlook the role of the laundry that briefly adorns these surfaces.

The towels, bedsheets, and clothes may be ephemeral, yet they speak volumes about the life that unfolds within the city’s walls, the struggles and resilience of its people, and the intimate connection between the urban and the personal. It entails an underlying message: there is life, there are still neighbors, there is resistance to gentrification, and there is hope.

In Catalan, the expression "Hi ha roba estesa" (there is laundry hanging) means that someone might be watching, that there are witnesses, or that someone may be listening.

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Given this evolution, it is crucial to reconsider the policies that, while essential and necessary in their time, may no longer serve the city’s contemporary needs.

These regulations, which sought to sanitize and refine the image of a city emerging from dictatorship, must now be revisited in light of Barcelona’s current reality — one shaped by over-tourism, the commodification of its spaces, and the complex negotiations between urban aesthetics, social expression, and political resistance. I believe this can be applied to many other cities around the world. While the housing crisis and increasingly unfavorable conditions for residents are turning historical city centers into frozen, inanimate theme parks, any sign of life and everyday existence can now be read as a political act of resistance. Where in the past this was interpreted as a sign of poverty, neglect,

Hi Ha Roba Estesa!

and abandonment of public space, we now have the opportunity to resignify the power of laundry and its public appearance. In the cities of the present and the future, any manifestation of life should be welcomed and amplified.

So, let the laundry hang proudly on your balconies, a testament to resilience, to life in the face of adversity, and to the indomitable spirit that refuses to be erased by gentrification or sanitization. Let it be a declaration that the soul of the city, its people and their daily struggles, will not be silenced but celebrated in the very streets that tell their stories.

Images by author

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HOME BEYOND WALLS Madlen von Wulffen

Rethinking Housing for an Interconnected Future MADLEN VON WUFFLEN

Image by author

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Madlen von Wulffen studied Sociology, Politics, and Economics and is currently working in Berlin at the interface of ecological and social design and spatial transformation processes.

Home Beyond Walls

ONE Standing amidst the vast stillness of Egypt's desert, I held a pair of handcrafted olive wood salad spoons.

Their smooth texture and intricate grain a testament to delicate craftsmanship. In that moment, my mind conjured vivid images of a home I had not yet built—a space where these spoons would stir salads in a bowl I would one day own, within walls I could call my own.

Despite being thousands of miles away from anything familiar, the weight of those spoons tethered me to an idea: the universal longing for belonging, for a place to root ourselves in a world of constant movement.

The longing for material ownership, deeply ingrained in Western capitalist societies, has long been tied to the pursuit of home ownership. However, this aspiration is increasingly out of reach for many, as the global housing crisis exacerbates inequality, making affordable housing scarce. Berlin, a city emblematic of dynamic cultural shifts, is no exception. After the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989, a symbol of division was dismantled brick by brick, only to be replaced by invisible walls of privatization that continue to shape the city’s landscape. Where once concrete barriers separated east from west, today economic walls rise in their place—measured not in meters but in rent increases, eviction notices, and the creeping specter of gentrification. Berlin’s unification, once a promise of cohesion, now seems to echo with the paradox of separation—a new kind of boundary drawn not by ideology but by property lines and profit margins.

These walls may lack physical form, but their impact is no less tangible, defining who can afford to stay and who is left outside looking in. In the heated arena of political discourse, this polarization has created a rigid dichotomy between private property and collectivism. Discussions about housing seem locked between these two extremes, leaving little room for nuanced solutions. Navigating a middle ground—between the isolation of individualized living and the radical openness of shared communal living—remains one of the most pressing challenges of contemporary urbanism.

Rather than focusing on the material substrate of society in all its tangible forms, the lens of analysis illuminates the abstract—the realm of scientific-philosophical and theoretical frameworks. It is within this intellectual terrain that the seeds of transformation are planted, as ideas of new order hold the potential to reshape not only our social fabric but also the very architecture of our cities.

The home, far more than a physical shelter, acts as a

microcosm of societal structures, shaping how we relate to each other, our cities, and the planet. In its current form—rooted in ideals of individualism and private ownership—the modern home has perpetuated deep inequalities, ecological disconnects, and unsustainable urban systems. Yet, in our collective imaginings of the future, the vision of transformation tends to center on the cityscape, leaving the private dwelling untouched and unexamined. This article moves beyond wellworn critiques to propose a radical shift in perspective.

Philosophically, it challenges the notion of the home as an isolated space, arguing instead for a vision of housing as a networked and interconnected system that integrates ecological and communal values.

TWO Housing is a pressing issue in Germany’s cities, with the struggle to find affordable living space becoming an everyday challenge. As the global population grows and climate change intensifies, the conversation about sustainable land use has reached a critical point.

Political parties agree on the need for new housing, but the specifics of what that housing should look like remain unclear. The dream of homeownership is deeply embedded in German culture, with nearly 16,500 households owning single-family homes. Yet, in Western societies, private ownership has turned land and housing into scarce resources, excluding lower-income groups from accessing them. The study by the Federal Institute for Research on Building, Urban Affairs and Spatial Development (BBSR) shows that families—as the smallest economic unit in western capitalist societies— dominate the formation of home ownership. At the same time, the small family lifestyle seems to be lagging behind current lifestyles and changing living conditions, thus failing to achieve ecological usability. The model of the single-family home highlights the disconnect between traditional housing models and current living realities, due to the growing trend of single-person households. In two decades, more people will live alone than today, making the question of connectedness more urgent than ever. This disconnect is not just social— it’s political. High rates of loneliness in societies like Germany and the US show the dangers of living apart in a fragmented world. Ferdinand Tönnies’ 19th-century concept of ‘society’, where individuals live side by side but remain isolated, seems increasingly relevant in today’s neoliberal landscape. Our homes are no longer just shelters; they are part of a system that perpetuates inequality, disconnection, and ecological strain. The

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commodification and the associated attribution of value to the existential resource of living space can be seen as the ultimate alienation of people from themselves.

In this way, space is produced as capital, as capitalist space, by valorizing what it comprises and constitutes.

The consideration of the individualistically characterized organizational principle of private property in inscribed deep structures of society is reflected in a specific type of housing.

Although alternative proposals increasingly address our surrounding space, they do not move away from the conventional housing concept. The question of the ecological and the relationship between people and nature, overall, how we as humans can still make ourselves at home in this world, is largely neglected.

This gap calls for a more systemic-thinking approach to housing and urban development. Since our earth, our living space, space in general is limited and we as humans have digested the appropriation of living space and the resulting exclusion as vital in our need to secure our existence, we need an expansion of the relations of perception that have so far been based on the dichotomies of interior/exterior space, private/ public, human/nature and subject/object and thus justify and drive the capitalist production and form of living space. Here, a field of tension is opening up between the tendency towards inertia, due to persistent structures, and the pressure to change, which affects housing most sensitively.

To inhabit a place is to belong to it—to root oneself and call it home. The home has long been conceived as a “closed area of security (...) in which people can withdraw from the threatening outside world." This safe haven is constructed from an indeterminate outside space, shielded from external forces such as weather or other people through either defensive readiness or physical barriers like walls and fences. The paradox of owner-occupied housing becomes most evident in urban environments. Owners of capital enjoy private, segregated spaces in close proximity to others, yet their engagement is often limited to their own property.

They rarely connect with the broader social and physical materiality of shared buildings or the communities around them. Housing, increasingly financialized, now reflects a new stage of commodification in cities.

This monopolization of urban living space manifests in the growing dominance of investment funds and shareholders over land and property. Ownership, once

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a deeply personal concept tied to responsibility, has become detached from individuals and transformed into abstract financial entities. The constitutional principle that property obliges, once rooted in social responsibility, is now rendered obsolete. Instead, property is perceived solely as material wealth, dissolving the bond between people and their living spaces. While the commodification of urban housing highlights the alienation of individuals from their homes, environment, and selves, Emanuele Coccia offers a counterpoint by emphasizing the home’s essential role in making cities habitable. In The Philosophy of the Home, Coccia argues that cities, with their overwhelming complexity and chaos, are not inherently livable; it is through the home that individuals carve out a refuge, enabling them to navigate and exist within the urban landscape. The home becomes the ontological anchor—shaping identity, fostering memory, and mediating the relationship between individuals and the world. In contrast, the current financialization of

Diagram by author

Home Beyond Walls

housing erodes this potential, fragmenting communities and perpetuating the alienation Coccia seeks to overcome. This duality raises critical questions about whether the home, as it is produced today, still fulfills its role as the foundation of urban life—or if it has become yet another site of systemic disconnection.

THREE Berlin serves as a compelling backdrop for exploring the philosophical and ecological dimensions of housing.

Once celebrated for its cultural allure and creative energy encapsulated by Klaus Wowereit’s famous phrase in 2003, "Berlin is poor, but sexy," it now struggles under the weight of its housing crisis. It accounts for the sharpest rent increase of all major German cities - averaging €13.60 per square meter and climbing by 18.3% in just a year. This reveals a city that can no longer sustain its romanticized image of accessibility and affordability.

This transformation highlights the tension between Berlin's historical identity as a haven for alternative lifestyles and its current reality as a site of aggressive market-driven urbanization. The very qualities that once made Berlin "sexy" to newcomers and tourists— its openness, inclusivity, and affordability—are being eroded by the economic pressures that now define its housing market. As of December 2024, the city's unemployment rate reached 9.7%, surpassing the national average of 6%. This economic strain contributes to a growing homelessness issue; estimates suggest that approximately 40,000 individuals in Berlin are currently without permanent shelter. Efforts to regulate rental prices, such as the Mietpreisbremse (rent brake), have been undermined by the prevalence of fully furnished short-term rentals, allowing landlords to bypass rent controls and charge premium rates. Major real estate companies like Vonovia and Deutsche Wohnen—two of Germany’s largest real estate giants—have exacerbated the issue through their profit-driven practices, prioritizing shareholder returns over tenant needs. Despite the landmark 2021 Deutsche Wohnen referendum, which called for the socialization of major landlords owning more than 3,000 apartments, tangible progress has been limited. The ARTE documentary series Capital B – Who Owns Berlin? paints a vivid picture of the forces that have shaped this city, peeling back the layers of its identity. It captures the tension between the Berlin of dreams—where artists once envisioned expansive lofts and communities thrived in the margins—and the Berlin of today, a city transformed by gentrification and the relentless logic of the property market. Inner-city districts

have been "polished up," leaving little room for the charm of imperfection. Where temporary use once sparked creativity, permanent fixtures of the real estate industry now dominate, hollowing out spaces that once felt alive.

Even ambitious projects like Holzmarkt 25 or R50, hailed as innovations for the future, shine faintly—too isolated to disrupt the deeper, systemic challenges of a city grappling with its identity.

What happened to that restless yearning—the feeling that defined Berlin, where something new was always just around the corner? The notion, that anything can and must still happen. Doors once opened, walls once fell—but where are the cracks now? Houses that survived the war, stood through three generations, are now being stripped and remodeled. The city is being neatly sanitized, its scars—the deeply rooted, identity-shaping reminders of history—are vanishing, wiped away as though the memories they held no longer matter. These scars, a testament to remember, are fading from sight, leaving Berlin’s raw authenticity behind. Maybe the answer lies in moving forward by embracing the essence of its past.

FOUR How does this transcend the mere adaptation of existing systems to instead forge entirely new spaces that embody visionary ideals? At its core, this is not simply a reflexive reshaping of the familiar, but a radical transformation of the underlying order itself. It is an intentional act of spatial reimagination—one that does not just accommodate change but actively produces environments where new ways of living, thinking, and relating can take root. These spaces are not constrained by inherited structures; rather, they materialize the potential for alternative futures, embedding visionary ideals within their very fabric.

However, this structural metamorphosis cannot occur without a parallel shift in mindset.

The dominant individualistic, compartmentalized way of thinking must yield to a more networked logic—one that acknowledges and accommodates the intricate interdependencies of the living world. This ecological way of thinking is not simply a lofty ideal but a necessity, as it provides a framework that better aligns with the complexity of existence and the challenges of survival in an interconnected world. However, can individual property rights exist in a networked, ecological logic?

Or does the adoption of such a logic necessitate an entirely new conception of space—one untethered from material ownership and the privatization that perpetuates

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inequality? A new order, it seems, must inherently give rise to new spatial configurations. In this context, the concept of home demands a radical reimagining—How do we define home beyond its material trappings?

How do we move past the walls and possessions that often serve as markers of inequality? The essence of dwelling must extend beyond the confines of property, reconstituting itself as a medium of connection—not only between individuals but also with the climate, the larger ecosystem, and, ultimately, Gaia itself. What might a living form of connectedness look like? A home that is no longer a fortress of isolation but a space of porous boundaries—one that fosters a sense of belonging. To dwell, then, is not merely to inhabit a space but to engage in a dynamic relationship with the environment and those who share it. How, then, can a holistic perspective—one that incorporates ecological concerns and is grounded in the logic of a networked paradigm—offer an alternative to the rigid dichotomies of modernity or the polarizing debate between collectivist ideals and private enterprise?

Such a shift calls for moving beyond a static conception of being and embracing a dynamic, processual mode of existence—one that aligns with Heraclitus' insight into the ever-changing nature of the world. This is a move from the ontology of what is to one of what becomes, where structures are understood not as fixed entities but as evolving networks of relations. The focus turns to those often-invisible forms of connectivity that underpin social formations—relationships that bind and rebind the collective in ways that defy simple categorization.

Neither material forms of living nor social structures are static collections of objects. Instead, they are dynamic networks of relations—webs that bind and unbind in an ongoing process of negotiation and transformation. By examining these relational dynamics, we can begin to rethink housing not as a fixed entity but as a living, evolving medium of connection.

The materialized form of living is not an isolated entity; it exists within an intricate network of interconnected systems—society, culture, politics, nature, and ultimately Gaia, the living Earth. Understanding these relationships requires not only examining the connections between components within a system but also exploring how the system interacts with the larger systems surrounding it. This approach transcends hierarchical thinking, allowing for a more fluid interplay between entities.

How can this dynamic, relational existence be materialized or reflected in the built environment? To envision new conditions for human and non-human habitation, we must focus on architecture’s capacity to embody dynamism and transformation. Housing forms—whether urban layouts, single-family homes, or communal dwellings—are not simply expressive of social or ecological realities; they are themselves organizational systems that mediate and shape relationships within and across systems. Housing, then, is less about spaces in a traditional sense and more about sorting and orchestrating events—being inside, being outside, and navigating transitions. Spaces emerge as secondary phenomena, shaped by the demands of these interactions. This shift moves us away from causal thinking—where architecture is either the product or the producer of social conditions—toward an understanding of architecture as inseparable from the social fabric. Housing forms become not merely expressions or reflections of society but active mediums through which social dynamics unfold. Ultimately, this paradigm challenges the dichotomies that have long dominated our understanding of the built environment— nature versus culture, individual versus collective, static versus dynamic. By framing housing forms as mediating systems within broader ecological and social networks, we open the door to imagining spaces that are fluid, adaptive, and capable of fostering connections between individuals, communities, and the planet itself. In this way, architecture and housing are redefined not as fixed structures but as dynamic processes, continuously evolving in response to the complexities of life.

Following this, space functions as a mediator— a dynamic medium that bridges the tangible and the perceptual, transcending its reduction to a mere container or subjective construct.

Peter Sloterdijk’s Spheres Trilogy contributes to this conceptualization in his exploration of spheres as relational, protective, and life-enabling structures inviting a rethinking of space as an immersive, co-constitutive phenomenon—a world-shaping force that is inseparable from human and non-human existence. Sloterdijk’s emphasis on the dynamic interplay of individual and collective “atmospheres” offers a philosophical lens for examining the socio-ecological connections embedded

To dwell, then, is not merely to inhabit a space, but to engage in a dynamic relationship with the environment and those who share it.

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in the spatial configurations of living. To recalibrate our understanding of sociality in this context, the concept of urban society must be dissolved and replaced by the eco(systemic) community—a framework in which belonging extends beyond atomistic individualism. It encompasses both humanity as a species and its rootedness in the oikos, the Earth’s household, from which the concept of ‘ecology’ originates. Within this framework, the question arises: How can successful sociality be materialized in housing concepts? How might architecture and urban planning create the conditions for a flourishing coexistence, one that balances divergent ways of life with harmonious interrelations? This challenge calls for housing models that embrace not only the collective unconscious but also divergence, conflict, and eccentricity. Such concepts must provide the scaffolding for collective communities while allowing space for individual fulfillment. To transcend conventional housing paradigms, we must recognize the creative potential of collective action within the socio-ecological Image by author community. Valuing diverse forms of community becomes essential when envisioning a networked, communal form of housing. At present, housing models such as co-living, cluster flats, curated shared apartments, and student housing attempt to revive a sense of community. Yet, these models often fall short in achieving their goals. For communal living to succeed, relationships and interdependencies must occur voluntarily, with individuality—embodied here as privacy—remaining an essential element. This interplay between privacy and publicity is not a binary opposition but a dynamic reciprocity. Privacy allows the public sphere to emerge, while the public sphere, in turn, enables privacy. Moving beyond the separation of these two domains requires a new spatial perspective—one that embraces the potential of the in-between and unfolds as a process.

How can the abstract notion of housing as a process—or, more precisely, architecture as an event—be translated into a form that, by nature, resists such fluidity? Is it possible to loosen the inherently static character of architectural form? At this juncture, we must resist the temptation to retreat into the overly technical terrains of avant-garde architecture, which often indulges in deconstructivist forms that might promise novelty but fail to address the fundamental issue. Similarly, the prevalent design practice of biomimicry — emulating natural structures in architectural forms — proves insufficient. Its danger lies in the reduction of organic systems to mere technical constructions, while crucial relational dimensions are ignored. The focus, instead, must lie on the true essence of dwelling — not the structure itself, but the lived experience it enables.

This does not, however, negate the necessity of a materialized form; after all, community cannot exist in the abstract, and the physicality of housing is constitutive of communal life. Yet, the networked form of housing should not be reduced to mere symbolic structures, as with the conventional single-family home, which is rooted in the immaterial organizing principle of private property. The architectural reference here concerns its creative potential. In practical terms, this creativity manifests as the possibility for self-organization, thereby facilitating the shift from static forms of living to dynamic relationships. This transformation enables a deeper connection between physical and social spaces, where the quality of space itself becomes an active medium for engaging with the world. However, this is not an endorsement of private property’s role in social life. Rather, it is a recognition of the interrelatedness that humans, as nested beings, sustain with their living spaces, their socio-ecological communities, the biosphere, and ultimately, with Earth itself — the largest living space.

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Madlen von Wulffen

FIVE As we look toward a future where the boundaries between home, city, and society are not rigid but progressing, we must rethink not only the walls that separate us, but the very paradigms that uphold them. The future of housing, and of the city itself, lies not in static, unchanging forms but in the dynamic potential for transformation. The longing for a place to call home, as captured in the olive wood spoons I once held, represents a universal human desire — not to possess, but to belong. Yet this belonging should not be restricted to the material confines of private property; it must expand to embrace the interconnectedness of all people and the environment.

If we are to build homes that reflect the complexity of life and the interconnectedness of our world, we must move beyond the static ideals of the past. In reimagining the home, we are asked to envision spaces that can adapt as fluidly as the weather itself — homes that are progressing, ever-changing and evolving not in their physical form but in their social and ecological relationships. The home of the future must be a collective discipline, blending identities, classes, and cultures in a way that dissolves the rigid distinctions of private and public, of self and other. As Emanuele Coccia proposes, we must create homes that are not machines of distinction, but sites of transformation, where all things, and all lives, can blend and evolve together. Berlin, once a city defined by its wild, anarchistic energy, now faces the challenge of retaining the spirit of creativity and inclusivity that made it a beacon of alternative living. The transformation of Berlin's housing market — from a space of artistic possibility to one driven by profit and exclusion — reminds us of the power of urban spaces to shape, and be shaped by, social and economic forces. In the wake of gentrification and the loss of affordable housing, we are called to return to the essential question of what it means to live together. As this article concludes, we are left with no final solution as its primary aim is to expand patterns of thought and perception – an invitation to imagine.

The challenge before us is not merely to redesign the physical structures in which we live, but to rethink the very principles upon which those structures are built. Social coexistence in all its manifestations, such as statehood, law, values, science and many more – in terms of the complexity of life – is undergoing a change that is directly related to its material foundation. This foundation, which encompasses the mass, density, form and composition of the social fabric, is subject to constant change. Only through conscious recognition can we move towards a truly sustainable urban future, where the space we inhabit is not a barrier to connection, but a catalyst for it.

Home Beyond Walls

Image by author

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TJ Yoshimura Small

SPATIAL ODDITIES

On MixedRace Futures

TJ YOSHIMURA SMALL TJ often finds himself sitting at the intersections of environmental science, critical cartography, and spatial justice. Thinking about and fighting for equitable planning and architectural practices in cities is a daily ritual.

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Spatial Oddities

I am a walking gantry – a half-shut window hugged by chipped paint. I am under construction. I am scaffolding, transom, cast pipe, drywall. I am a corporeal cocktail of clashing physicalities.

I am a spatiotemporal kaleidoscope, a collective tangle of waveforms between synapses. I am culture stratified, an aberrant liminality. I come from a legacy of contradictions.

A Midwestern landlord with a proclivity for racist tenancy practices gave way to a libertarian rural stronghold in Washington. A Ryukyuan-Japanese family line converged on Hiroshima; people of a country that committed and still denies atrocities against its neighbors and own citizens; people of the first city to be leveled by atomic destruction.

At the eye of this knot, I am a 1996 happening, forty miles outside of Kansas City.

The majority of my youth was spent in Vancouver, British Columbia, former home to the trailblazing Asahi baseball team and a thriving Japantown along Powell Street. This urban enclave was violently dismantled and its people interned during World War II. Even post-war, Japanese Canadians were banned from returning to the province. Further south on the American West Coast, over forty Japantowns were reduced to three, which now face gentrification and population decline. Real estate weaponization ran parallel to the inhumanity of segregation, and many lost their only home to auction.

To these immigrants, and so many more carved indelibly into the pages of history, the West amounted to no more than a muleta, a rusting stanchion of freedom, a light at the end of an ever-expanding tunnel. Canada and the United States were built on forced resettlement and the exploitation of other. Dangling the carrot has always steered the ship. Cartography is a scythe when suitable, and architectural creation, destruction, and separation is its executive arm. Questions of equity are hairline cracks to be packed frantically with political caulking. The uneven rungs of the Western socioeconomic ladder shun nonconformity. The West’s underbelly of xenophobia and land dispossession manifests in increasingly shrouded ways on the spatiotemporal ribbon. US military bases still loom in Hiroshima and across Okinawa, the Sea of Japan is still a point of nationalist contention, and former Japanese American internment camps have been recently slated to reopen as migrant detention centers. In that sense, I am an embodiment of all that we have failed to learn.

For mixed-race individuals, especially those of us with a first-generation immigrant parent, the feeling of

segregation is a uniquely acrid tonic. Amidst the cultural dissonance with either parent, there is an incessant need for us to glean a succinct symbiosis out of polluted air, a futile accounting. Even that word, us, is loaded. I am familiar with the mixed Asian-white experience, but what about the multitude of other individuals whose permuted compositions I have no experience with, particularly those raised in a different geographical or cultural context? Is there kinship in simply being other, as Stephen MurphyShigematsu suggests? I would argue that despite the lack of an established physical commons, ours is a shared struggle. The tacit nature of being peripheral is our glue. This especially in an age where Donald Trump is president again, and the banishment of all that is considered an aberration of conservative whiteness is not only a fringe concept but an argument to rouse the hateful masses.

I also see power in the reclamation of epithets like Hapa.

Paraphrasing Lane Hirabayashi, not only should we take back Hapa, we should also practice the re-annotation of historical events to turn euphemism (internment) to literalism (incarceration). As with urban policy, the difference between derogatory identity prescription and collective empowerment relies deeply on the directionality of underlying power structures. Even after racial mixing was legalized in the United States, it has been a de facto practice to refer to mixed-race individuals as belonging to the subordinate (read, minority) racial group. OMB Directive 15 all but excluded mixed-race individuals from the census, and it wasn’t until the turn of the 21st century that selecting multiple races was even an option. As other, we must defy orientalism and dismantle the cycles of lateral violence and internalized colonialism associated with hypodescent. If we remain mere footnotes, Tanizaki’s fountain pen looms large. The West’s obsession with identity essentialism threatens to steer the mixed-race experience.

To be chronically unseen is a corkscrew. Lucinda Chua writes “Who do I turn to? I don't look like you”. Many mixed-race individuals choose a side and embed themselves; others pull away entirely, disoriented.

My personal experience was an oscillation between withdrawal and a solely Asian identity. I’m sure a different permutation of cultural allegiances would have vastly altered my movement through time. It has thus largely not been the case that we form recurring clusters in the greater body politic, though we may join clusters adjacent to us. Of course this is a generalization, but speaking

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from my childhood, coming across another mixed-race child felt unusual, and our shared racial background was always cloaked, never made a foundational commonality.

One of my oldest friends is Dutch-Taiwanese, and I cannot remember a single conversation where we discussed the mixed-race experience. On the other hand, I have had myriad discussions with other friends about being Asian American. I linger on these technicalities of community because interaction is the genesis of place. Place is pivotal and relentlessly anthropological.

Contrary to the contrivances of orthodox architecture, Yi-Fu Tuan and other critical geographers argue an analogous theory of embodied urban heterogeneity.

Urban plazas and streets are transformed into community centers, informal markets, and pilgrimage routes. Power

In that sens embodiment of a failed to

Collage by author

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structures are viscerally challenged in the public arena, from 1967 Milwaukee to 2019 Hong Kong. In 2024, college campuses worldwide used encampment as a form of space reclamation and communal education.

As demarcated spaces of exclusion are phenotypical of real estate weaponization, insurgent reclamation within hostile environments offers a form of invitational self-segregation, akin to the formation of enclaves as a protective mechanism. In contrast to forcing hierarchical separation through redlining or freeway construction, grassroots collectivity transcends prescribed geographies, opting to define place with the self-delineated now-body as opposed to lines on a framed grid.

Spatial Oddities

Common to the mixed-race experience is a yearning for our own sense of place. We often endure the same racial injustices leveled against our monoracial peers as well as isolation from the very minority class we champion. This is not always an explicit or systematic rejection, but it is a moat nonetheless. The development of a personal identity, let alone a recognizable public front, can feel sisyphean. In truth, I don’t know how the collective of us widespread, misunderstood, and speculatively construed individuals will find our way to each other. What is diaspora without a homeland, and where does it converge? Who are we as a people? Are we an inevitability writ large in cyberpunk tackiness? Is our place of gathering relegated to the liminal? Perhaps, as we continue to etch our names into shared surfaces,

our ink will bleed into one another’s to form a parachute; unapologetic, supportive, intentional. Thus, a new gestalt emerges in public space that expresses and celebrates the mixed-race experience. In the lake of time, a new pebble ripples.

se, I am an all that we have o learn.

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John Sandman

CRACKS IN THE PLASTER The Merchant’s House Faces Down a Shadowy Developer

JOHN SANDMAN Image by Ajay Suresh from New York, NY, USA (CC BY 2.0 via Wikimedia Commons)

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A writer and Brooklyn resident, John Sandman republished a new edition of his 2018 novel about student loans, Debt Collectors in Love, in 2025.

Cracks in the Plaster

The interior of the Merchant’s House Museum at 29 East 4th Street near the Bowery might remind you of a movie set — Downton Abbey does New York, or Bridgerton makes a break for the former colonies. The period décor from nearly 200 years ago is remarkably well preserved throughout. Walking in the front door is like stepping on a merry-go-round where time stands still.

The scene outside is less uplifting. The exposed east and west walls have become graffiti canvases and the front has been tagged near the stoop. A 30-yard stretch of vacant land between the Merchant’s House’s east wall and 37 East 4th — the Skidmore House, completed in 1845 and now a market rental — was surrounded by a chain link fence for decades until the Parks Department installed paving and a half dozen fake period lamp posts in 2022. If it’s less than an artistic success, it’s also one that few people seem to frequent.

It wasn’t always this way, when New York’s upper crust called East 4th Street home.

The Merchant’s House is a four-story late Federal style Greek Revival built in 1832 and purchased for $18,000

by Seabury Treadwell, a hardware merchant and direct descendant of Mayflower passengers John Alden and Priscilla Mullins. In the early 1830s, mansions appeared along East 4th — 25 feet wide with four stories above English basements — between the Bowery and Lafayette Place, renamed Lafayette Street in the early 1900s.

Gaslighting was installed in the 1850s and the area was known as the Bond Street District — now roughly NoHo — bordered on the south by Bleeker Street, on the east by the Bowery, Astor Place to the north, and Broadway on the west.

“We are regularly making new discoveries about the house,” said historian Anthony Bellov in 2022. He claims that it wasn’t designed by an architect but was handmade by Joseph Brewster, an industrialist and real estate speculator, who put up other Bond Street houses. “It is hard to imagine Brewster and his builder popping by the local plaster monger and saying ‘I like this, this and that, put ‘em all together and make it pretty.’” But that, he says, is probably close to what happened. The Landmarks Preservation Commission (LPC) and the National Park Service cite the influence of architect Minard Lafever.

“At that time, Bond Street was the best address in the city,” Bellov said. Brewster also built a house to the west of the Merchant’s House, 27 East 4th Street, that was torn

down in 1940. A one-story warehouse sits in its place.

Following Seabury Treadwell’s death in 1865, the area went into decline. “Everybody but the Treadwells fled East 4th Street in the 1880s,” Bellov said. By the 1920s, Gertrude Treadwell, last of eight Treadwell children, was destitute and living alone in the house. She eventually took on boarders; Bellov identifies the drawbolt latches on her bedroom door as evidence. “She was locking herself into three rooms on the second floor,” he surmised.

“Drawbolts appear only in those three rooms.”

Gertrude died in 1933 and niece Lilly Nichols, who had loaned Gertrude money, nearly auctioned off the property and its contents when Gertrude’s distant cousin, George Chapman, bought it at the eleventh hour. He ran — and funded — the Merchant’s House as a non-profit museum for the next three decades.

After Chapman’s death in 1959, the house was on shaky ground. The Municipal Art Society, the Decorator’s Club, and other philanthropies kept it afloat until 1969, when NYU architect Joseph Roberto led a nine-yearlong renovation with support from federal and state governments plus corporate and private donors. It reopened as a museum in 1979, and received a $1 million grant from the Vincent Astor Foundation, supposedly securing its future.

Today it's the only home of its kind in New York City that was occupied by a single family, surviving with original 19th century furniture, rugs, and decorative art intact. The original plaster remains on walls, molding, ceilings and chandelier medallions — it’s considered among the finest period architecture in the United States. The interior and exterior are national historic landmarks and is one of only six landmarked residences in New York City.

Yet after a fortune in cash and sweat equity have been poured into the house over the last 80 years, an ongoing threat comes from its next door neighbor.

Kalodop II Park Corp., who acquired the site of the former Brewster house-turned-warehouse at 27 East 4th, now wants to build there. A host of architects, engineers and preservationists fear that the weight of the building — if not the impact of excavation — will turn the Merchant’s House to rubble. The Landmark Preservation Commission’s post-meeting report of December 2023 is telling. It merely recommends that the developer “consider additional structural measures to minimize any potential settlement” of the house due to adjacent

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construction. If the museum fell down, at least Kalodop could say they (sort of) tried.

Over a decade of proposals and counter proposals have been made to build on the site of Kalodop’s warehouse. Since it’s in a historic district, LPC’s approval was needed. An eight-story building got green-lit in 2014 that was damned by former LPC Commissioner Margery Perlmutter, who found that it was “drab” and compromised the “extremely rich fabric of the street” which is in the NoHo Historic District Extension.

Merchant’s House spokesperson Tom Corsillo of Marino Public Relations said the new approval was granted at a December 7, 2023 meeting that barred testimony from Merchant’s House representatives. An LPC presentation dated December 12, 2023 included approval of the warehouse demolition.

Kalodop hasn’t provided the required plaster study and safety and monitoring plans. The museum hired New York-based structural engineers Wiss, Janey and Elstner (WJE) who submitted a mat analysis to determine how much the Merchant’s House would bend under stress from adjacent construction. According to Merchant’s House attorney Micheal Hiller, WJE concluded that even an 1/8 inch bend would cause catastrophic damage.

But Kalodop wanted the first floor to have a restaurant and hotel lobby and to be built to a height of 90 feet without a setback — the distance a building is recessed from a property line. Since the warehouse covers 100% of Geotechnical the lot, Kalodop engineers didn’t qualify for Mueser Rutledge special permits Consulting under the zoning Engineers (MRCE), law — and tested the soil couldn’t demolish under the house. their warehouse.

Hiller said “Muser Their only out concluded that the was to amend bend would be at the zoning law least ¼ inch and as Manuel Plaza next to Merchant House Museum (Image by author) through the much as ¾ inch.”

Uniform Land Use Review Procedure (ULURP).

Dr. Armin W. Stuedlein, chair of the Soil Improvement Committee with the American Society of Civil Engineers’ Manhattan Community Board 2 shot down Kalodop’s GeoInstitute stated “Old, brittle plaster can readily crack ULURP application. Most of those testifying against the from such small settlement magnitudes.” hotel said Kalodop requested illegal spot zoning which would only benefit the developer, not the general public.

With a plaster study performed by Atkinson Noland & Associates, tests by all three engineering firms came to On September 20, 2018, the City Council Zoning the same conclusion: the museum would not survive the Subcommittee slammed the door on the project. The full hotel.

City Council voted against rezoning in 2019.

Were they ignored? Hiller said “I’m 100% convinced that But Kalodop came back with another proposal in 2023 LPC did not read any of these reports.”

— this time an eight-story structure for which the LPC granted a conditional certification of appropriateness.

“Assuming Kalodop’s plaster study was completed and The Merchant’s House would have to close for two years monitoring and safety plans were created, the project during construction and store its contents off site. The would be submitted to the Department of Buildings, which estimated cost: $5 million. is required to prepare its own assessment of whether the project is safe to adjacent buildings and the public

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Cracks in the Plaster

generally,” said Corsillo. “If the DoB approved the project, demolition permits would be issued for the one-story warehouse that Kalodop owns next door.”

The monitoring plan would likely include vibration and crack monitors at the Merchant’s House and adjacent buildings. The monitors would send notifications once vibrations or cracks reached excessive levels.

Who would receive the notifications is not clear—and irrelevant. “The monitoring plan isn’t so much designed to avoid damage as it is focused on confirming that substantial damage has already been done,” said Corsillo. “Because the Merchant’s House is nearly 200 years old and includes its original plaster and framing, any damage would be permanent and irreparable.”

“The Merchant’s House isn’t sitting on bedrock,” noted Bellov. Once the digging starts, “the entire western wall could collapse.”

As new construction comes into conflict with historic properties across New York, ill intentioned developers and regulator neglect are increasingly common. The demolition of 14 Gay Street in Greenwich Village was caused by the illegal removal of a load-bearing wall by the owner, Najarian Property Group—with no consequences.

As new construction comes into conflict with historic properties across New York, ill intentioned developers and regulator neglect are increasingly common.

The LPC’s negligence was evident in the destruction of the Jacob Dengler Mansion which bit the dust in Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn, before hearings on the efficacy of demolition were complete. It has been gone since 2022 while a vacant lot remains — a reprise of the lot beside the Merchant’s House.

That empty space — now the park — between the Merchant’s house and 37 East 4th may be a dark harbinger. After the Merchant’s House was complete, Joseph Brewster built two more homes at 31 and 33 East 4th Street. In 1862 the Liederkrantz Society, a German choral group, bought and combined them into a concert space. In 1869 an Italianate brownstone was built at No. 35.

The third floor of each building was destroyed in 1919.

By the 1950s a garage had been retrofitted to the shell of the Liederkrantz houses and in July 1987, it was sold to a developer who wanted to demolish the structure and build residential housing. Meetings between the LPC, the Merchant’s House and the developer promised an orderly demolition. Instead, bulldozers arrived in the middle of a May night in 1988 and laid waste to all three buildings.

Damage closed the Merchant’s House for two and a half years and the Museum had to pay for about $1 million in repairs.

The promised residential housing was never built.

The Merchant’s House was one of the first buildings in Manhattan to be given landmark status by the LPC, created in 1965 in the wake of the tear down of Penn Station. LPC’s remit was to prevent anything like that from happening again. Nearly 60 years later, LPC seems poised to sign the Merchant’s House’s death warrant.

The Merchant’s House is recognized by the Historic House Trust, is on the National Register of Historic Places, and is a National Historic Landmark. But these designations seem like window dressing. While the New York City Parks Department owns the property and the land, it isn’t the final arbiter on its fate. A Parks’ spokesperson stated “It is not accurate that Parks determines whether the Kalodop project proceeds.”

During 12 years of public meetings and hearings, support for Kalodop is almost non-existent.

Gale Brewer, former Manhattan Borough President and current District 6 City Council member noted that Kalodop owns 403 Lafayette Street nearby — they could put a hotel there. Meanwhile the project doesn’t address an unmet need — there’s no shortage of hotel rooms in Manhattan. According to PriceWatershouseCoopers' Manhattan Lodging Index, hotel vacancy rates are about 13%.

Bellov believes that Kalodop, which seems to have no internet presence, is a mystery, stating “We don’t know who these people are.” Scott C. Ross of Herrick, Feinstein, counsel in Kalodop’s litigation to overturn the 2018 zoning ruling, could not be reached.

Neither could other stakeholders. The Skyscraper Museum’s Carol A. Willis suggested contacting the LPC. The LPC has gone missing. The Department of Buildings (DoB) could not be reached. A Parks Department spokesperson said Parks has not yet received an application for a Parks construction permit at this site from Kalodop.

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The test pit application, a preliminary step in construction, was submitted to the DoB and is on administrative hold following a contractor withdrawal. According to the DoB website, a new contractor would be needed remove the administrative hold. DoB contract information shows no new amendments.

In May 2008, the NoHo historic district was extended east from Lafayette to the Bowery and from Jones Avenue in the south to east 4th Street in the north thanks to its historically eclectic architecture. Included was a sliver of land on the north side of East 4th Street occupied by a single-story warehouse—the one Kalodop wants to demolish for its hotel. “LPC didn’t do this to protect an unremarkable warehouse,” said Hiller. “They did it to guarantee oversight over anything built next to the Merchant’s House.” That was consistent with the LPC’s 1965 remit which critics say has been abandoned as it comes under the heel of Mayor Eric Adams’ administration and his City of Yes. “If the Merchant’s House can’t be protected, no landmark is safe,” said Hiller. “No historic district is safe.”

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Cracks in the Plaster

Image from Historic American Buildings Survey by Wohlfahrt Studio, Photographer May 25, 1936, Seabury Tredwell House, 29 East Fourth Street, New York, New York County, NY (public commons via Wikimedia)

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NEOM

Yerandy Pacheco

An Innovative Future or a Familiar Fallacy?

YERANDY PACHECO

Image by Corona Borealis (via Adobe Stock)

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Yerandy is a first-year MSUP student at Columbia GSAPP with a specific interest in how cities function and operate. On days off, Yerandy enjoys creating music and connecting with communities through the arts.

NEOM

NEOM, the globe’s most ambitious, futuristic development project is currently undergoing construction in Saudi Arabia. NEOM is part of the nation’s Vision 2030 program aimed to diversify its oil-dependent economy and demonstrate social progress in light of the ongoing global climate crisis. Relying heavily on three megaprojects driven by AI and machine learning algorithms –Trojena, Oxagon, and, most notably, The Line – Saudi Arabia aims to achieve a modern, sustainable approach to tourism and urban living relying solely on renewable energy sources.

smart city technologies, NEOM aims to optimize urban planning, infrastructure, and public services. However, while rational approaches may seem the most logical, they often overlook deeper social contexts, leading to unintended failures. NEOM’s tight schedule and immense budget of hundreds of billions of dollars can be seen as a radical and overzealous approach to integrating smart city technology trends. It is possible that relying too heavily on new technology will backfire and have serious, unintended consequences for decades to come.

The Line is a 170-km vertically layered city, designed to have no streets or cars, connected by elevators and a high-speed rail system. The Line offers solutions to the goals of many cities today – residents are within a 10-minute walk of daily essentials including work and school.

Historically, some trends have overestimated technological solutions. In the 20th century, cars were seen as dystopian and futuristic. Shortly following, car-centric urban designs became the norm without considering long-term environmental and community impacts. Today, cities like Los Angeles are attempting to rewrite their car-centric errors of the past, which have proved to be inefficient in the 21st century. Is it possible that NEOM is relying far too heavily on technology and repeating past mistakes? The considerably short timeline allocated to create NEOM seems reminiscent of EPCOT’s failed urban experiment, where eagerness overtook practical, flexible planning practices. The Experimental Prototype Community of Tomorrow (EPCOT) was originally envisioned by Disney as a real city where new technologies and modes of transportation could be tested before widespread adoption. Early plans included experimenting with automobiles alongside electric monorails and a network of separate roads for pedestrians and drivers. If EPCOT had been built as Disney intended, it might have influenced urban planning by showcasing a more transit-oriented alternative to car-centric cities. However, before EPCOT became fully operational, the U.S. invested heavily into highway expansion, suburban sprawl, and auto dependency.

From EPCOT to NEOM, specific choices can have enduring effects for decades to come. While the climate crisis should be met with urgency, why not take a gradual approach to smart city development and fully assess its impacts before going all in?

RATIONAL OR RADICAL? In theory, NEOM promises a revolutionary, futuristic shift in global history, especially amidst the ongoing global climate crisis, but its heavy reliance on technology and Saudi Arabia’s centralized top-down planning raises concerns. Power within the project centralizes decisionmaking with the Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman, questioning the moral integrity of the project – specifically its inclusivity. Does this truly serve the needs of the Saudi people or is it merely aiding the Crown Prince’s vision of global prominence?

Surely, the Crown Prince faces a different reality than a low-income resident or a woman in Saudi Arabia. As the monarchy makes executive decisions, how can those in power determine what ‘better’ is without attempting to understand residents’ needs? The displacement of the Howeitat tribe for the NEOM development amplifies NEOM’s exclusionary practices, deprioritizing residents’ needs. Critics have accused NEOM of being elitist, prioritizing an exclusive, wealthy enclave rather than the original vision of a green, inclusive society.

NEOM’s core principles of sustainability and big data align with the rational planning model, following a structured approach to decision-making where clear objectives are set, alternatives are explored, and the most effective solutions are selected based on holistic analysis.The Crown Prince has clearly identified the nation’s heavy dependence on oil and gas as a long-term economic risk, particularly as global trends shift towards sustainability and renewable energy. By integrating

PLANNING MISTAKES OF THE PAST

Robots, AI, flying cars, and dystopian cities have been elements of pop culture since the early 20th century.

Through popular media, the future has been both speculated upon and feared by audiences. Numerous sci-fi and horror films have explored potential pitfalls of an over-reliance on technology, often highlighting a lack of privacy as increasingly "intelligent" technology

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continuously monitors and analyzes human behavior.

More than ever before, the convenient reliance on technology is apparent in our daily lives. However, on a global level, there has been a generational shift towards advocating for social justice issues, specifically in the realm of planning. While success is subjective, many would consider a "successful" city to cater to the needs and desires of its residents.

There is a clear distinction between a futuristic city and a successful one. While NEOM is undeniably futuristic, will it be successful? Ultimately, for NEOM to be considered successful, it would have to provide a high quality of life for its residents, have continuous population growth,

Image from Google Earth (annotations by author)

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stimulate the country’s economy, and boost tourism, as outlined in Vision 2030.

CONCLUSION As Vision 2030 seeks to position Saudi Arabia as a global leader, NEOM’s fate will serve as a litmus test for its broader ambitions. With its commitment to renewable energy, Vision 2030 has the potential to serve as a model for future cities in tackling carbon emissions. The Line envisions residents living within a five-minute walk to school, work, and play, and just two minutes from green areas, aligning with the global trends towards a work-liveplay balance. However, Vision 2030's fatal flaw may be its

NEOM

extreme and radical approach against a tight, self-inflicted timeline. Although the Crown Prince holds the power to extend the timeline and ensure NEOM’s goals are achieved properly, effectively, and ethically, he seems to be focused on building as fast as possible. The mid-20th century’s car-centric city plans drastically contributed to the environmental challenges we face today. Society was one-track minded, ignoring alternative planning models and revealing the importance of flexibility. Will NEOM become the blueprint for sustainable, tech-driven cities, or a cautionary tale of overreach? The world is watching to see whether NEOM can live up to its enormous promises—or if it will become another cautionary tale in the history of failed utopias.

THE LINE

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Julian Krusic O'Donnell

ENTER THE UTOPIA LAB:

Future Making with Ursula Le Guin’s Omelas and Odo JULIAN KRUSIC O’DONNELL Julian Krusic O’Donnell is a second-year M.Arch student at Columbia’s Graduate School of Architecture, Planning, and Preservation, a Core II studio mentor, research assistant for GSAPP’s Housing Lab, and a graduate of the Rhode Island School of Design. His investigations seek lost or forgotten intelligence and fresh perspectives in the borderlands of art, architecture, and urbanism, writing and making, the built and the unbuilt.

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Enter the Utopia Lab

My course, among other things, is a kind of investigation of the mystery of literary structures.

-Vladimir Nabokov I first encountered Ursula Le Guin’s award-winning short story, “The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas,” in my high school Ethics course and have been haunted by it ever since. What reader can forget the image of the suffering child? “It could be a boy or a girl. It looks about six, but actually is nearly ten” — alone, hungry, with memories of “sunlight and its mother’s voice,” crouched in his excrement in the corner of a dark tool room, “in a basement under one of the beautiful public buildings of Omelas, or perhaps in the cellar of one of the spacious private homes.” The narrator refrains from too prescriptive of a setting, offering the reader an imaginative choice that is, on closer inspection, merely a design preference within the confines of this story’s urban typology — “beautiful public building” or “spacious private home?” Three quarters of the way through the story, with its choreographic mingling of horror and delight, the reader’s position is not entirely unlike the citizens’ in this masterfully achieved utopian topos.

“A utopian argument,” Michael Sorkin explains in his 2009 “Eutopia Now!” manifesto, “always includes the idea of construction …Without its topos — the idea of place — utopian thought would simply lapse into some other style of ethical, metaphysical, or political speculation”.

As our close reading of Le Guin’s fiction will reveal, “to design utopias is like entering the laboratory of politics and space, to conduct experiments in their reciprocity.

This laboratory – unlike the city itself – is a place in which variables can be selectively and freely controlled. At the point of application, of the concrete, utopias cease to exist”.

Indeed, life for the Omelans is temporally, spatially, and semiotically bound, reminiscent of the floating island cities that have come to define the millennia-old discourse, and since Thomas Moore’s 1516 Utopia, its name and constitutive shape. The story opens with, and takes place during, the “Festival of Summer,” staging seasonal, ritualized, passive time in and around the city: “bright-towered by the sea,” with its “great parks,” “public

buildings,” and a “great water-meadow called the Green Fields.” Processing “decorous,” “grave,” “quiet,” and “merry” unnamed citizens commingle with visitors from “towns up and down the coast,” forming a congenial, intergenerational crowd “chatting,” “dodging,” and “dancing” to the “shimmering of gong and tambourine.”

The entire procession, the unnamed citizen-narrator declares, “was a dance.”

Among the opening chorus of sensory details, the recording of the “joyous clanging of the bells” triggers the narrator, as if exiting a dream, to interrogate the word choice — “But we do not say the words of cheer anymore” — and speculate rhetorically — “Joyous! How is one to tell about joy? How describe the citizens of Omelas?”

Anticipating the reader’s dismissal of the Omelans as “bland utopians,” the narrator rushes to defend: “These were not simple folk, not dulcet shepherds, noble savages … not barbarians,” negating the tropes, adding with poignant effect, “They were not less complex than us,” even though they and their city also “got on” without “monarchy and slavery … the stock exchange, the advertisement, the secret police, and the bomb.”

Bearing the burden of such a “miracle” is more than our awakened narrator can handle alone, delegating the project: “Perhaps it would be best if you imagined it as your own fancy bids, assuming it will rise to the occasion, for certainly I cannot suit you all.” Rising to the occasion would require reimagining the role of science and technology — historical sites of fancy, fantasy, and futurity.

To get on with the task, the narrator, in her newfound mode of co-creation, ruminates, “I think there would be no cars or helicopters in and above the streets,” inspiring the conceptualization of the removal of urbanism’s darkest stain, which follows, as explained, “from the fact that the people of Omelas are happy people.” To help the reader comprehend this mystery, a principle is revealed: “Happiness is based on a just discrimination of what is necessary, what is neither necessary nor destructive, and what is destructive.” Given the “middle

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category,” the giddy narrator concludes, the Omelans “could perfectly well have central heating, subway trains, washing machines, and all kinds of marvelous devices not yet invented … floating light-sources, fuelless power, a cure for the common cold.” Or, “they could have none of that,” she blurts, “As you like it.” The “joyous city's” program begins to resemble the American late-capitalist suburban dream with its parallel supermarket approach to choice-making and uncritical fashioning of desire, and whose people were also “not naive and happy children – though their children were, in fact, happy. They were mature, intelligent, passionate adults whose lives were not wretched.”

Thanks to the design of the narrative – the narrator is afforded subjectivity through varying positionality on the inside (“our”), on the outside (“their”), and beyond (“your”) — Le Guin has seemingly crossed the traditional bounds of modern and modernist utopian discourse, turning down the historical temperature, dimming the lights, sharing responsibility for the city’s plan, transforming utopia from a nowhere to a somewhere, perhaps even a here and now.

The clincher for these citizens, as it is metaphorically also for us, is the discovery that all of this “splendor,” with or without “kings,” with or without “orgies,” with or without “religion,” comes at a cost: the suffering child in the basement! But “clergy no,” our crafty narrator asserts, in this string of let-them-haves, indeed, you choose your own adventure!

At some point in their education, eight and twelve, whenever they seem capable of understanding,” each Omelan must learn that the child “has to be there,” that the citizens’ “happiness, the beauty of their city, the

“between

tenderness of their friendships, the health of their children, the wisdom of their scholars, the skill of their makers, even the abundance of their harvest and the kindly weathers of their skies, depend wholly on this child’s abominable misery.” As there is clearly much to gain in receiving full knowledge of the suffering, sentient child, so too is there much to lose. And, there is no easy resolution to the “terrible paradox,” as attempts to save the child are halted by an additional stipulation: in doing so, the very “splendor of their lives” will disappear. The citizens of Omelas live knowing that “they, like the child, are not free.” The return on their collective utilitarian investment – accepting the suffering of one for the happiness of many – will demand a lifetime of ignoring a painful truth, but not of its ignorance or ignorance generally. Adept at applying their “just discrimination,” some conclude: “even if the child could be released, it would not get much good out of its freedom … too degraded and imbecile to know any real joy” and “would probably be wretched without walls.” The blueprint is executed.

Margaret Atwood offered the apt distinction in her dystopian novel, The Handmaid’s Tale; one man’s utopia, she mentioned in conversation, is another’s dystopia: “Ignoring isn’t the same as ignorance. You have to work at it.” In Omelas, the daily dance of memory and forgetting is precisely what “makes possible” — and thus intelligible — “the nobility of their architecture, the poignancy of their music, the profundity of their science.” These are not lazy people, and so their dedication is rewarded with “a sense of victory … the celebration of courage … boundless and generous contentment … and the victory they celebrate is that of life.” Ignorance absent ignoring might very well achieve architecture, music, and science, but absent the qualifiers. If there is freedom for the citizens, it centers on freedom from a significant moral emotion, the shiny accomplishment of their “just discrimination.” The narrator declares with a flash of authority: “One thing I know there is none of in Omelas is guilt.”

The reader is not surprised to learn that some are “content merely to know [the child] is there,” and yet others at various points in their life choose to visit the child. The ones who walk away from “city Omelas” are those who, the reader may assume, can no longer ignore or successfully apply their “just discrimination” to this inescapable feature of the city’s design and subsequently its citizens’ consciousness. Never Ursula Le Guin (Image by Marian Wood Kolisch, Oregon State University, CC BY-SA 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons)

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Enter the Utopia Lab

having been asked in the first place to be party to the terms of the agreement by dint of being born and thus thrown into it, some do not return home after the viewing and “walk straight out of the city of Omelas, through the beautiful gates.” “They go on” in the direction of a place the narrator describes as “even less imaginable to most of us than the city of happiness.” Remarkably, walking away is not met with tears or censure, but metabolized. In evolutionary parlance, the walkers represent a mutation in this urban ecosystem at the edges of its boundaries which are not hermetically sealed. The narrator admits, “I cannot describe [this other place] at all,” reaching a parallel and uncomfortable authorial limit, leaving the reader at this turn, if she chooses, in the same position as the walkers: to stay or “go on,” each “alone … the traveler,” to negotiate the journey from here. “It is possible that [this other place] does not exist,” the narrator admits, and yet the walkers “seem to know where they are going.”

Invoking the limits of the narrator's/reader's imagination centers this most vulnerable yet essential role of human’s capacity in conceptualizing inhabitable futures. Le Guin’s achievement, which does not end here – and is complicated by reading on indeed, for those willing to endure — rests in the structural challenge to literalmindedness and a fundamentalist hermeneutics that “takes utopia straight,” and serves as a reminder that “We are all Thomas Moore’s children,” to quote The Guardian’s 2016 tagline in celebration of Utopia’s 500th anniversary, and even more so as architects, designers, and planners. “The idea of the blueprint – of the model,” Sorkin declares, “is always rhetorical.”

“The Day Before the Revolution” picks up where Omelas leaves off, as Le Guin’s introduction explains: “This story is about one of the ones who walked away from Omelas.”

That “one” is the now-elderly Laia Asieo Odo, a name possibly familiar to readers of Le Guin’s 1974 novel The Dispossessed, its paperback edition arriving with the tagline, “the magnificent epic of an ambiguous utopia!”.

The story, as a sequel, relies on an initial movement backward. With such a backward vision, the reader might recognize Omelas’ “Festival of Summer that came to the city” as a passive structure. The humor is in the Omelan horses depicted as “the only animal that has adopted our ceremonies as his own,” and, of course, the always unforgettable child in the basement. They are still horrific, but their sacrificial position punctures layers of irony, the construction a satirical mash-up of Jonathan Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels and “A Modest Proposal for Preventing the Children of Poor People from Being a

Burthen to Their Parents or Country, and for Making Them Beneficial to the Publick.” A truly heterogeneous form, known since ancient times as a most “ambiguous art,” satire is delivered through a prism of literary devices that work beneath its surfaces: parody, irony, paradox, word play, juxtaposition, derision. It is not always funny. It is not delivered on a plate prepared for immediate consumption, but it is always intended to disrupt.

“We always see the world in the rearview mirror,” Mark Wigley opined in his 2018 lecture “Narratives of a Near Future.” He deployed a metaphor that echoes the literal origin of the name, “Omelas,” Le Guin claimed she found reading road signs for Salem, Oregon in the rear view mirror. This gets at what artists, designers, scholars, and indeed, humans might still be capable of contributing to the world: “a new attitude toward the past, not a new attitude toward the future.” In her 1982 essay, “A NonEuclidean View of California as a Cold Place to Be,” Le Guin contemplates, “I don’t think we’re ever going to get to utopia again by going forward, but only roundabout or sideways … because we’re in a rational dilemma, an either/or situation as perceived by the binary computer mentality, and neither the either nor the nor is a place where people can live,” words more applicable today than ever.

In “Day Before,” partaking in the backward-forward intuition, Le Guin chose a palindrome in naming this somewhere Odo, an almost borderless polis revealed through contrasting narrative details of setting, style, and most significantly, point of view, initially understood by its not Omelas-ness. The slippery we-they-you point of view is exchanged for Laia’s equally slippery firstperson dream-memories and interior monologue within the anticipatory temporal space of the day before. The sensory threshold is intensified, as Laia, who has also recently suffered a stroke, is the foundress of the society of Odonians and of Odonianism, which the author’s preface explains as a political theory akin to anarchism, whose “principal target is the authoritarian State (capitalist or socialist); its principal moral-practical theme is cooperation (solidarity, mutual aid).”

More than twice the length of “Omelas,” “Day Before” requires negotiating foreign-sounding proper names of people and places – details absent in Omelas, save the name of the city. Laia’s waking consciousness, beleaguered by her remembrances of struggle and imprisonment commingles with sensations of her ageing body, and fixates on the seemingly trivial recognition that

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she had never, nonetheless, come to know the name of the “tall weeds with dry, white, close-flowered heads” that appeared in her nightmare. Until the end of our days, we are reminded, there will always be names to learn, names forgotten, names to unlearn, and names to be tried on, as Laia does this morning before, thoughts interrupted by disturbing, unfiltered glimpses of the deformity of age. “Looking down at her [old lady] feet” she finds her “toes…compressed by a lifetime of cheap shoes… nails…discolored and shapeless,” “dry wrinkles” running between “knob-like anklebones,” “skin the color of mud,” ironically enabling her to find the descriptive names: “Disgusting. Sad, depressing. Mean. Pitiful ... Hideous: yes, that one too.” Contrast this lexicon with the Omelan — beauty, nobility, profundity, victory, courage, and citizen, poignantly absent in this ungated topos.

An encroaching ignorance or oblivion mounts a “Movement,” symptomatic of a long life spent occupied with the work of inventing theories – specifically Asieo’s (Laia’s late husband’s “public name”) “theory of reciprocity” and her own “principle of freedom of dress and sex.” From Laia’s point of view and by the time the story takes place, these hard earned political and social theories have lost some of their potency, even if they were the designed outgrowth of her generation’s bloody, sacrificial negotiation of the terms of freedom for the former citizens and their offspring who walked away from a blueprint. Laia’s recognition that her mere survival as the last remaining architect of the “Movemen,” do not ennoble in the classical sense or at all. She is preternaturally aware of her own, and less so her reader’s, imaginative capacity. This is her story, her topos.

Surrounded and visited by “very young students … charming creatures … doey-eyed worshipers” from near and far, Laia laments that the next generation no longer has anything to learn from her; she had been reduced to a “phenomenon, a monument…everybody’s grandma.”

She grows more defensive, regretful: “[T]hey had grown up in the principle of freedom of dress and sex and all the rest, she hadn’t. All she had done was invent it. It's not the same.” Words from the wise. Indeed, “What was the good working for freedom all your life and ending up without any freedom at all?” she laments, recognizing “she had got nowhere at all, she had gone in a circle.” To die, Laia comes to understand “was merely to go on in another direction.”

An ignorance deepens in the details as Laia returns again and again to having never learned the name of the tall

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weeds with flowers, adding to her struggle with names.

The “Movement” had never been “strong on names” with its ever-shifting slogans. The younger generation’s “anarchism” is masked as “obscurantism” and in their open disinterest in learning from their elders – all problematic when it comes to grand, humanizing theories with names like “reciprocity” and “freedom:” “Favoritism, elitism, leader-worship, they crept back and cropped up everywhere.” The overwhelming result of this narrative’s brilliantly achieved point of view is the unnerving sense that every day, including “those days, before she and the others had thought it through,” “before she knew anything…before she knew what ‘capital’ meant,” is the day before the revolution. The futility of moving beyond the bounds of blocks and gates, of walking away, of eschewing intergenerational exchange, of an ignorance of “names that name, not a goal, not a place to get to, but the place where one is: a center of the world,” in Le Guin’s words, constitute a significant portion of the Odonian cost.

The revolutionary planners are a busy group of people in the Odonian House, for which “there were always more wanting to live in … than could be properly accommodated.” The design was in need of intelligence, solid awareness for future architects to draft blueprints for a large, unhoused population expected to receive their designs. It is uncertain whether co-creation is even possible. It is evening and Laia is exhausted, and “[manages]...to slip away unnoticed” once again, to climb the stairs alone to her large attic-level room that she does not share as others in the House do. Resting on the landing, she thinks, “Above, ahead, in her room, what awaited her? The private stroke.” Though the verbal slip (stroke for strike) is received by her as “mildly funny,” the reality is less so: “She started up the second flight of stairs, one by one, one leg at a time, like a small child.”

The simile recalls both Lais’s afternoon revelations that “she was the little girl with scabby knees, sitting in the doorstep staring down through the dirty golden haze of River Street in the heat of late summer…the fierce, cross, dream-ridden girl, untouched, untouchable” and the child of Omelas, also untouched, untouchable, both facing death.

Rereading Le Guin’s stories unearths the possibility that futures might well be understood as a process of walking away – from an architecture that privileges the freedom of the producers to one that privileges the freedom of the receivers – iterations strengthened by having taken a few

Enter the Utopia Lab

steps backwards. That is, in Wigley’s view, considering the city as the greatest and perhaps most scary thing humans have designed; as both Omelas and Odo illustrate in their enduring “fertile and foul” here-and-nowness, “The force of utopian thinking lies in its disinterested projection of places that are nowhere yet but already all around”.

Indeed, we are left “to negotiate our relationship with the world we have in some ways produced without knowing how we’ve been producing it”. As the experience of each story’s narrator attests, Wigley offers: “We lack the ability to know that.”

Such immense intelligence (human and/or artificial!) contributes to its own ignorance, for those who do the choosing are often not the one’s affected by the choices.

And yet, our kindred endeavors as architects, designers, planners, and advocates must press on into the future “to construct many radically sustainable new cities,” Sorkin argues poignantly; on a wide, diverse continuum of “points of departure,” as Le Guin’s constructions reinforce; “roundabout or sideways;” always in search of the intelligence left behind, forgotten or ignored; that of both the child in the basement and the childless granny in the attic “who had started a world revolution;” of both happiness and hypocrisy; of both freedom from (liberation) and freedom to (liberty).

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REFLECTING ON THE PAST

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Elizabeth Kostina

HOPE FOR MOSCOW ELIZABETH KOSTINA

Image by author

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Elizabeth Kostina is a first year MS Student studying Historic Preservation at Columbia University. She currently interns at World Monuments Fund as their Public Programs Intern and is interested in working in post-conflict reconstruction.

Hope for Moscow

In February 2022, as Russia waged war on Ukraine, I — as did many — grappled with impossible questions about politics, morality, place, and identity. I recalled Vladimir Nabokov’s words: “I will never go back. For the simple reason that all the Russia I need… is with me — always with me. Her literature, her language, my own Russian childhood.”

When I visited Moscow in the spring of 2021, it was the first place outside my childhood hometown where I felt I belonged. The city’s architecture told stories I had inherited from my parents, its rhythm both familiar and foreign. The buildings bore the scars of nostalgia and a socialist past. I haven’t returned since and I do not plan to.

Yet, I often find myself reflecting on what the city revealed to me.

Moscow’s public spaces seem to encapsulate how architecture shapes collective memory, exerts control, and mirrors the contradictions of a nation.

In understanding them, we might better navigate the collision of history and identity, and perhaps even begin to hope for something different.

PRESENT PASTS Under imperial rule, the Red Square served as a stage for public gatherings and displays of authority, from coronations to public executions. These events were carefully orchestrated to reinforce the Tsarist regime’s dominance, ensuring that the Red Square was not merely a public space, but a tool for maintaining order and suppressing dissent.

This architectural approach was part of a broader effort to consolidate Soviet ideology and cultural hegemony over its constituent republics. These displays celebrated Soviet triumphalism and Russian exceptionalism while reinforcing the collective identity demanded by the regime.

Today, the Red Square is a UNESCO World Heritage site, celebrated for its architectural and historical significance.

Visitors from around the globe flock to marvel at St. Basil’s Cathedral, the Kremlin, and Lenin’s Mausoleum.

Paradoxically, it has become a symbol of modern consumerism; the luxury shopping mall GUM dominates one side of the Square within which high-end boutiques cater to the global elite, a stark contrast to the Square’s Soviet past.

This evolution reflects the broader tension in my own relationship with Moscow. I love the city for its beauty, its layered history, and my familial connection. Yet, I struggle with what it represents today: the heart of a regime whose actions are causing immense suffering, as it wages a brutal war and undermines the lives and homes of so many. Just as the Red Square’s dual identity captures the collision of past and present, my feelings about Moscow are shaped by a similar duality: affection for its cultural richness, and unease with the political realities it now symbolizes.

From the ruins of monarchy came socialism, and a culture of control remained and extended into the urban landscape. Under Stalin (1924-1953), monumental architecture reshaped Moscow’s skyline, transforming and solidifying it into a canvas for state propaganda.

Stalinist skyscrapers dominated the city, symbolizing the regime’s supremacy and overshadowing the individual.

With the rise of the Soviet Union in 1922, the Red Square — the geographic and historical center of Moscow — was reimagined as a site for projecting the power of a new regime. Grand military parades of the Cold War era (1947-1991) staged on the Red Square were more than demonstrations of strength; they were performances designed to embed the state’s ideology into the public consciousness. Soviet-era architecture, including Russian monumental style, was imposed across Ukraine and other satellite states during the Soviet Union’s rule.

Image by Ben Rees (via Unsplash)

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RECONCILIATION Moscow is a city of contradictions. Its streets and monuments are steeped in beauty and layered histories, but they are also tools — powerful expressions of a political narrative.

Red Square, the Kremlin, and countless statues of Soviet leaders shape a story of triumph and control, reflecting the state’s ideals rather than the lives of its people or the reality of its economic functions.

But what could the Red Square become? What if its monuments told the stories of those displaced by conflict? What if its streets bore witness not to parades of tanks but to gatherings of citizens, coming together to envision a shared future?

Through large-scale projections, Polish artist Krzysztof Wodiczko transforms monuments into voices for the marginalized — war veterans, immigrants, and the displaced. His work confronts the narratives of power embedded in architecture and offers spaces for collective reflection. By reimagining public spaces as forums for dialogue, cities like Moscow can counteract the narratives of dominance that have long defined them and instead foster a “new consciousness and a new culture.”

What if Moscow’s monuments, instead of towering symbols of state power, became anti-monuments? What if its public spaces became forums for dialogue and historical awareness? What if we had streets filled not with symbols of control but with spaces that invited healing?

Imagine the Red Square not as a stage for state power but as a forum for dialogue. But for Moscow to embrace such a transformation, it must first reckon with the harm inflicted in its name. The devastation of the war in Ukraine is a stark reminder that public spaces are not neutral — they reflect and perpetuate the actions of those who control them.

Moscow’s symbols pose a moral dilemma; celebrating its architecture feels at odds with acknowledging its complicity in ongoing harm.

To leave is not to abandon; the city’s beauty and meaning linger for its millions of inhabitants, yet there are millions more that are inseparable from the harm inflicted in its name. Choosing not to return feels like an abandonment — of my memories, of my sense of self. Staying away is a form of commitment, a promise to honor those who cannot go home, and to dream of a Moscow that might one day be worthy of its people’s love.

Image by Yuri D.K. (CC BY 4.0 via Wikimedia Commons)

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Hope for Moscow

FUTURES In the wake of war and division, it feels less a question of what Moscow will become than how it will reimagine itself.

Architecture remains both a mirror and a tool: it can reflect past harms, but it can also foster healing.

As much as I long to return, I cannot ignore the devastation caused by the Russo-Ukrainian war.

Millions of Ukrainians have been forcibly displaced, their

homes and communities destroyed. For many, “home” now exists only in memory. My choice not to return is a privilege they do not have — a voluntary absence contrasted with a violent erasure. Refusing to return is not just an act of protest but a gesture of hope — and certainly, such hope evokes guilt for the privilege of feeling wrong.

Images by author

What if we had streets filled not with symbols of control

but with spaces that invited healing?

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Benedetta von Palombini

PLANNING FOR

INNOVATION

The Case of Berlin-Adlershof BENEDETTA VON PALOMBINI

Image by Dr. Bernd Gross (CC BY-SA 4.0 via Wikimedia Commons)

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Benedetta studies Urban Planning at Columbia University and is interested in combining spatial analysis with participatory design and community-centered practices to improve public infrastructure.

Planning for Innovation

The urban development project "Adlershof - Berlin's City for Science, Business, and Media" is one of Germany's most successful high-tech locations, encompassing an integrated science, business, and media area spanning 1.8 square miles. It is located in the TreptowKöpenick district (Bezirk) in southeastern Berlin, on the southwestern side of the Adlershof subdistrict (Ortsteil). Since 1994, the Johannisthal/Adlershof area has been designated as the object of one of seven urban development programs in Berlin by Berlin's Senate Department for Urban Development and the Environment. Since 2005, Adlershof has experienced dynamic growth. Today, it is home to over 1,330 companies and 18 scientific institutions, employing 28,000 people. Revenues and budget funds have steadily increased, rising from €3.6 billion in 2022 to €3.9 billion in 2023.

Berlin-Adlershof represents a vital project of the state government with the aim of creating a “new generation" of a science and technology park with the emphasis on an urban network of mixed uses. This development raises intriguing questions about the planning strategies behind the initiative and the role of the public sector in driving urban regeneration. What planning frameworks and innovation efforts in early 1990s Berlin-Adlershof transformed an empty industrial site into a hub that both preserves its history and modernizes its economy? More specifically, what made public-sector-led economic development so effective in balancing urban renewal with economic growth?

HISTORY AND TRANSFORMATION OF BERLIN AND ADLERSHOF Despite its historical status as the world's third-largest industrial hub, Berlin underwent significant upheavals in the latter half of the 20th century due to World War II and the division of the city (1949: Division of Germany into two separate states, 1961–1989: Adlershof is part of German Democratic Republic (GDR or DDR)). By 1990, Berlin's economy had been depleted, with most leading enterprises relocating to West Germany. The eastern area of the city, home to state-owned industrial complexes, lost competitiveness due to geopolitical shifts. Berlin's mixeduse urban landscape required innovative strategies to rejuvenate commercial and industrial spaces.

Relevant planning frameworks for commercial and industrial areas evolved gradually, building upon the Urban Development Plan for West Berlin in 1989 and the legally binding preparatory Land Use Plans in 1994.

These planning frameworks actively shaped Berlin's commercial and industrial landscapes by formulating targeted measures such as streamlined building permit processes, tailored land parceling, and management structures for location marketing. Additionally, districts were tasked with crafting context-specific concepts for economic areas.

These planning frameworks laid the ground for the development of the new science and technology park.

Berlin-Adlershof's transformation began in 1990, building on its legacy as an aviation research center since 1909, and later as the German Democratic Republic’s (GDR) scientific hub. Following reunification, restructuring efforts integrated its research infrastructure into Germany’s federal system, prioritizing physics, chemistry, and informatics. Key initiatives included restructuring scientific institutes, establishing Fraunhofer branches, and supporting scientist reintegration and job creation in research and development (R&D). A 10-point program proposed an “integrated landscape of science and business,” leading to the creation of the Adlershof Development Corporation (EGA) in 1991 to oversee planning, company acquisition, and land management.

By 1993, EGA fully controlled development, guiding Adlershof’s transition into a research and technology park with a mixed-use urban plan incorporating residential areas, green spaces, and improved transit. Leveraging its 5,600 researchers and a history in scientific equipment production, Adlershof emerged as a European hub for business-science collaboration, integrating innovation with urban planning.

SCIENCE PARKS AND THE TRIPLE HELIX Berlin-Adlershof largely followed the triple helix model, which academics and policy experts recognize as a framework for fostering knowledge exchange and innovation through spatial agglomeration.

This model integrates three primary planning components: the scientific, the productive, and the structural. The scientific component consists of universities, research institutions, and R&D laboratories that focus on knowledge development and dissemination. The productive component includes technology-oriented companies that Image by Dr. Bernd Gross (CC BY-SA 4.0 via Wikimedia Commons)

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absorb, adapt, and commercialize this knowledge into innovative products and services. The structural component provides public and private support services, such as entrepreneurship programs, funding, technology commercialization, and talent development.

By adhering to this model, Berlin-Adlershof benefited from the collaboration between academia, industry, and public institutions, fostering an ecosystem for innovation and economic development. Unlike more urbanized creative districts, the science and technology park typology of Adlershof outside the city center was specifically designed to spatially aggregate these three elements, facilitating knowledge transfer and innovation.

FROM A SCIENCE AND TECHNOLOGY PARK TO AN INNOVATION SYSTEM Efforts to establish innovative private companies were supported by institutions and incubators that facilitated start-ups. This began in 1991 with the creation of the state-owned EGA, and later with the WISTA-Management GmbH, which operated the site and launched the Innovation and Start-up Center (IGZ). WISTA took on cluster management, overseeing land and facility leasing, acquiring technology firms, supporting local businesses with legal and financial advice, and accelerating start-ups in collaboration with IGZ. Additional technology centers emerged, leveraging the strengths and overlapping competencies of transferred research institutes, shaping Adlershof into a dynamic regional industry cluster. In keeping with the concept of a classic technology and start-up center, the IGZ only accommodates companies in their initial phase. The industry-specific centers, however, offer permanently rentable space and long-term support for their subsequent expansion after completing the start-up phase through a more specific offering.

In addition to activities intended to promote the establishment of innovative companies, attention was placed on establishing cooperation based on trust,

norms, and conventions between spatially concentrated companies. Management promoted identity building and networking between companies in collaboration with the classic technology and start-up centers and the technology-specific centers. Persistent structures emerged: old networks from the times of the GDR Academy had survived and could be reactivated, enabling 90 percent of the founders who were former employees of the DDR Academy to have at least one partner.

At the end of the 1990s, Humboldt University of Berlin established research institutions in Adlershof to strengthen ties between academia, non-university research institutions, and private companies. These institutions fostered a dynamic environment for collaboration and innovation. With support from the technology centers, many graduates and researchers launched high-tech spin-off companies, further driving the region’s economic and technological growth.

These institutes also help ensure that knowledgeintensive companies, which locate their R&D departments in Adlershof, meet their needs for highly qualified workers. By strategically co-locating businesses, research institutions, and development centers, Adlershof fosters a networked environment that drives innovation and growth. This emphasis on collaboration is also reflected in its spatial design. The district was planned to encourage informal exchanges through open and inviting architecture. Key buildings, including the natural science institutes, shared library, and specialized start-up centers like the Centre for Photonics and Optics, feature large glass facades and open entrance areas to promote accessibility and interaction.

A key factor in Adlershof’s success has been its integration into a broader regional and national innovation system, marking the final stage of a long-term cluster and innovation policy. There is a strong alignment between the technology fields and industry clusters in

WISTA Technology Park Berlin (Image by Brücke-Osteuropa, CC BY 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons

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Planning for Innovation

Adlershof and the priority areas outlined in the joint innovation strategy of Berlin and Brandenburg.

Adlershof plays a key role in high-profile innovation projects and cooperative networks supported by European, federal, and state funding. These initiatives connect scientific research with industry to drive commercial applications such as Optec-Berlin-Brandenburg (OpTecBB). Founded in 2000, OpTecBB unites companies, research institutions, and universities with government support. Beyond regional ties, Adlershof’s non-university research networks extend internationally, facilitated by active management and initiatives like the Adlershof International Meeting Center.

This center promotes global scientific exchange, offering visiting researchers accommodation and extensive networking opportunities.

...there exists a tension between political decisionmaking and risk-taking in the public interest.

CONCLUDING THOUGHTS Over the course of 24 years, the cluster and innovation policy in Berlin-Adlershof orchestrated a remarkable transformation. This success is evident in the significant increase in staff, which is now almost five times the original number, and the creation of a substantial number of jobs provided by additional businesses and services within a shared infrastructure.

In addition to the targeted political measures, such as utilizing a privately organized development agency as a trustee to carry out the urban development measure, since reunification, the research-oriented and industrial atmosphere of bygone days, as well as the presence of active entrepreneurial personalities, certainly played a significant role in the networking of existing actors and the formation of a regional identity.

This case study, albeit not directly, points towards a fundamental dilemma that emerges when the public sector assumes the role of a "development entrepreneur": there exists a tension between political decision-making and risk-taking in the public interest. In this case, the public sector holds the risk associated with selling developed land parcels, thus partially engaging in entrepreneurial activities. It assumes the risk that the income generated from land value increases can indeed be realized, thereby covering the incurred costs, introducing an unpredictable uncertainty. The economic risk escalated as the State of Berlin had to front a significant portion of the planning, land acquisition, and infrastructure development costs.

Planning uncertainties inherent in large-scale projects pose particularly challenging impacts on projects executed as development measures because they are designed for end-users who are not yet identified. In another context, issues of displacement and gentrification have to be taken into consideration when planning for large-scale projects.

The decision to implement urban development measures was a pivotal step in the site's evolution, with all stages of land development falling under the purview of the public sector. It took an active role in initiating urban development, financing public infrastructure services, and establishing building rights for potential investors.

The success of Adlershof is based on a long-term and consistent strategy of the State of Berlin, which was favored by factors such as, first, the adapted and continuous cluster management by WISTA and the urban development agency Adlershof Projekt GmbH; second, the spatial concentration and integration of business, science, and research (Triple Helix); third, building a regional identity (spatial proximity, trust, shared norms and conventions); and four, large-scale agreement with the innovation policy of the states of Berlin and Brandenburg.

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Bimo Wicaksana

THE OF SPATIAL EMPATHY

BIMO WICAKSANA Bimo Wicaksana studies Architecture and Urban Design at GSAPP Columbia University. His dream is to integrate philosophical reasoning into urban design practices to cement our foundation in embracing this new era of uncertainty.

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The Evanescence of Spatial Empathy

Once upon a time, five friends scaled a mountain deep in the woods of Java. Tropical rain and slippery terrain were no match for their perseverance as they inched closer to the peak. When dusk became dawn, they landed on the top plateau. There, they were greeted by yards of edelweiss plain glimmering in morning dew.

As they trekked the last stretch, they reminisced about the grueling ascent: the meals they shared, the wounds they suffered, and the laughs they enjoyed. At the peak, submerged by daybreak, one of them snapped a picture, crystallizing the moment. This person was me.

Impressions and memories are curious things. Half a lifetime later and I can still recall the specificities of my spatial experience during the ascent. I’d have never guessed that feeling of being subsumed by shared spatial experiences would become a relic of the past.

In hindsight, I took that experience for granted. It is increasingly difficult to form that kind of spatial empathy.

Worse yet, I’d wager that it is being supplanted by something sinister: paraspatial connection. Surprisingly, it was New York that revealed this perspective to me.

As an international student, I can’t experience New York without rose-tinted glasses. Tried as I may, years of movies and media exposure had formed a romanticized image of the city: a glitzy, nostalgic, metropolis where everything and anything could happen. In effect, this a priori interpretation plagued many of my first spatial experiences here. One such example was my experience in Times Square.

Starting its life as an American Horse Exchange, Times Square grew to prominence when the New York Times built the Times Tower. In the following decades, the Square evolved into a hub for culture and theater in New York City. At times, the Square even transformed into a den for decadents as drug trades, prostitution, and con games vexed the city. Now, it is regarded as the commercial center of New York City, where people from around the world flock together to watch arrays of screens.

I, too, was no different. With Times Square practically in my backyard, a weekly visit was no longer a far-fetched dream of mine. What I experienced there though, was enlightening. One immediate thing that stood out to me was how fleeting my spatial appreciation was.

I remembered all the different representations of the Square in the media I’ve seen. One thing that was missing from my appreciation though, was my actual spatial experience. I was so drowned in nostalgia, trying to vindicate my expectations, that I forgot to be present and form my own appreciation.

The apex of this realization came one night when I decided to watch Midnight Moments, a public showing of various artworks on Times Square’s billboards at midnight. I was dismayed that the displayed artworks were low-quality generative AI images. I felt betrayed

Standing in the middle of the Square, I, along with everyone else, took out my phone. As the photos piled up,

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and upset at the space for not adhering to my expectations. It was then that I realized that I’d been experiencing the space incorrectly. Accepting this revelation, I found that the Square, dazzling as it was, was much more nuanced.

I saw how the crowd ebbed and flowed, how the spatial arrangement showcased the Square as a proscenium, and how the soundscape reverberated into buzzing chants. Most importantly, I became aware of the different ways people engaged within the space. Tourists recorded their memories, solicitors displayed their goods on the sidewalks, and locals got annoyed with the crowds.

Understanding this built my spatial empathy, and through it, I’ve been able to have a deeper appreciation of the space. Most importantly, the memories of the space were etched deeply in my mind.

The feeling I had before that realization is what I call paraspatial interaction: when our spatial experience and appreciation are driven not by spatial elements, but by intertextuality to our preconception. We can understand this concept as an extension of parasocial relationships, where people forge intimacy with a manufactured personality through media. In times past, this phenomenon rarely happened because of the limitations of mobility and knowledge. The technological development of the past few decades rendered those limitations obsolete. Consequently, we craved more, however shallow, experiences in shorter time periods.

The immediate effect is the transience of spatial experience. Paraspatial interaction discourages genuine spatial interaction in favor of personal validation. Thus, memories of space become as fleeting as our presence in a space. We become less aware of our surroundings and have less empathy for the place and the people within it.

In this sense, public space becomes privatized.

It is important to note that the harbinger of this era is digital platforms specifically designed to manufacture the personalization of our social life. Naturally, this privatization effort exploits our tendency to form our own echo chamber and filter bubble to maximize engagement that feeds the algorithm. Because of this, we are incentivized to only engage with spaces through how they appear in the media, and not how they exist in reality.

Alas, misplaced entitlement becomes the norm because of this. We force our perception onto a space without the wisdom to empathically understand its locality. As with

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everything, this process inadvertently makes every space on earth generic, with the lowest common denominator being locality that masquerades as mere commodity.

Spatial empathy acts as the antithesis of this behavior.

Through it, we project our genuine curiosity and humility into a space. We knit a connection to its locality, not because of its monetary or social leverage, but because of its wisdom. This mindset is integral in embracing the era of artificial intelligence.

It’s been less than five years since the sudden emergence of AI. One of its more insidious aspects is its manipulation of the appearance of people and their surroundings as evident in the advancement of deep fakes, fake news, digital avatars, and extended reality. My primary concern is that this development will only exacerbate the paraspatial connections we form with our surroundings.

I can imagine a future where designers and planners no longer design public space as a place to commune, but as a theater of personality. Considering the current political climate of the US, I’d wager that the probability of this future is larger than zero percent. It might already be happening now! Nevertheless, this should be a wakeup call for us to change our mindset and broaden our understanding of spaces, and our relationships with them.

While grim, I don’t think it is too late to prepare for this future. Remedies should start by acknowledging the conditions and issues that exist now. I believe there is still time to study the paraspatial connections phenomena. I hope that this essay will become the progenitor of such an endeavor. If the time comes for this dialogue to evolve further, I will be there, in the real world, eager to listen.

The Evanescence of Spatial Empathy

I can imagine a future where designers and planners no longer design public space as a place to commune, but as a theater of personality.

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India Halsted

CLEOPATRA’S NEEDLE, NEW YORK Significations, Resonances, and Appropriations

INDIA HALSTED India Halsted is an artist and writer based in New York. She is passionate about architecture and film and spends most days in the trenches of the art world.

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Cleopatra's Needle, New York

In the words of Alois Riegl, a monument is “a work of man erected for the specific purpose of keeping particular human deeds or destinies (or a complex accumulation thereof) alive and present in the consciousness of future generations.” The obelisk is a signature example of a monumental form, long entwined with expressing power and authority. In the example of Cleopatra’s Needle, New York, the red granite monolithic form with a prism top is inscribed with hieroglyphics and now stands towering over the landscape of Central Park behind the Met. Despite the incredible size and scale of this ancient monument, which stands at sixty-nine feet, the obelisk has changed location multiple times. It was first quarried in Aswan, then erected in Heliopolis, then relocated to Alexandria, and then moved to New York. Such displacements are linked to individual ambitions to have the obelisk serve as a monument to political power and authority. There are rulers who have attempted to possess it (to inscribe their legacy for eternity), citizens who have chipped a piece for themselves, tourists who visit it, and others who stumble upon it.

jubilee. They remained there for 1500 years, during which Ramses II “added two vertical lines of flowery self-serving inscriptions on each face of the obelisks to flank those of Thutmosis”, thereby writing himself into the monument’s afterlife. Around 12 or 10 BC, the Romans, ordered by Augustus Caesar, floated the obelisks down the Nile to Alexandria where they were placed in front of the Caesarium and bronze sea crabs were added to support the broken corners. In Alexandria, the obelisks acquired the name “Cleopatra’s Needles”, at once memorializing the queen of Egypt’s death and misremembering the obelisk’s original context.

Barthes destabilizes the notion of a singular signification, instead highlighting the central importance of context and collective details that form a monument

In Monuments – Spaces and Landscapes, Roland Barthes applies semiotics to the monumental landscape, highlighting the importance of the surrounding context and monumental remains – the multiple parts that signify the whole – to the monument. Barthes destabilizes the notion of a singular signification, instead highlighting the central importance of context and collective details that form a monument. In applying Barthes theory, the different contexts of Cleopatra’s Needle both geographically – Aswan, Heliopolis, Alexandria, New York – and politically – Pharaonic Egypt, Ancient Rome, United States – have uniquely formed the obelisk’s signification.

HISTORICAL CONTEXT The monument’s many historical contexts have left both physical and metaphorical imprints upon the obelisk.

Cleopatra’s Needle is one of two obelisks originally quarried in Aswan, as ordered by Thutmose III. The obelisks then traveled down the Nile to Heliopolis and were erected around 1443 BC for the pharaoh’s third

In the 19th century as new nation states rose to power, ancient forms continued to be repurposed as imperial monuments. Tourists often visited Egypt and looted cultural heritage and artifacts, for example, breaking off parts of antiquities like Cleopatra’s Needles. After one of the two Alexandria obelisks was relocated to London, Americans launched a campaign to obtain the other. With the building of the Suez Canal underway and bankruptcy of Khedive Ismail, American naval captain Henry Honeychurch Gorringe lobbied for the obelisk’s removal and relocation. Elbert Farman (then American Consul-General in Egypt) submitted a formal request, and Khedive Ismail “gifted,” with the backing of William H. Vanderbilt, the obelisk to the United States. In 1879, Cleopatra’s Needle arrived in New York and was erected in Central Park behind the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Like the Roman and British empires, the Americans asserted, through the relocation of Cleopatra’s Needle, their power on the global stage.

CONTEXT: CENTRAL PARK AND THE MET Today, Cleopatra’s Needle still stands in Central Park behind the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The sculpture rests upon a pedestal brought over from Alexandria and is enclosed by a waist-high stone and metal gate. The positioning of the obelisk within the park, behind the MET, yet not visible from the bustling avenues nearby, invites surprise, as tourists might happen upon this ancient monolith. Others might set off to see the obelisk on a pilgrimage. The obelisk, while less tall, recalls the

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monolithic towers of Midtown nearby. On various sides of the monument, metal plaques translate the hieroglyphics, a language reflective of the context of the monument’s construction and indiscernible to contemporary passersby. According to Central Park’s plaques, the hieroglyphics link Thutmose and Ramses to the sun god Ra, proposing they are Ra’s sons and underscoring the divine ordinance of each pharaoh’s reign.

The relocation of Cleopatra's Needle to Central Park evokes its earlier contexts — the carvings of Thutmose III and Ramses II, and the Roman-era crabs — while

CULTURAL OWNERSHIP Cleopatra’s Needle thus raises questions of who owns cultural property and who has the right to decide where it is located or relocated. In The Invention of the Historic Monument, Françoise Choay proposes how UNESCO asserts the “universality of Western values and systems” and applies them to labeling monuments throughout the world. This process selectively remembers sites as part of a universalist, Western heritage, and forgets their distinct historical contexts. The co-opting of the Ancient Egyptian obelisk into Western “heritage” is seen at play in the example of Cleopatra’s Needle.

Cleopatra's Needle (Image by author)

also reframing them within the vastly distinct landscape of Central Park, contrasting sharply with the obelisk’s origins in Alexandria and Heliopolis. The construction of Central Park in the mid-19th-century displaced villages to create a mirage of winding paths and rugged woods for tourists and the wealthy. Françoise Choay theorizes, “the development of the leisure society and of its corollary, mass cultural tourism, lie at the root of perhaps the most significant inflation, that of the audience for historic monuments.”

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The Romans first attempted to possess and co-opt the obelisk as a symbol of their culture. The breakage at the obelisk’s base expresses the dismembering relocation of Cleopatra’s Needle, an expression of military might through the ability to move such a monolith and rival the technological advancement of Ancient Egypt. The breaks are covered and held up with crabs made of bronze, a significant material in Roman statuary. In The Saga of Cleopatra’s Needles, Egyptologist Bob Brier asserts, “Latin and Greek inscriptions on the crabs proclaimed that in the eighteenth year of Augustus Caesar, Rubrius

Cleopatra's Needle, New York

Barbarus, Prefect of Egypt, had the architect Pontius erect the obelisk,” annotating a pseudohistory upon the obelisk’s base, the closest point to the viewer’s eyes.

According to D’Alton, the claws allude to the Roman sun god. The Romans thereby attempted to rewrite the obelisk’s original context as a symbol of Pharaoh Thutmoses III’s powerful connection to Sun god Re. The Romans' attempt to rewrite Cleopatra’s Needle’s history serves as a testament to the monument’s power and continued historical resonance.

After enduring the political and geographic transformations of Alexandria — including the Caesarium eventually becoming submerged underwater — Europeans initiated a campaign to adopt the obelisk as part of a universal Western heritage. At the height of colonial and imperial expansion, England, France, and the United States transported these monumental structures from Egypt to their own cultural capitals. In doing so, these obelisks became emblematic of specific nation-states, symbolizing competing claims to the legacy of Western civilization.

the future.” The article’s focus is primarily the statues to English military generals Havelock and Napier, but Cherry’s insights extend to Cleopatra’s Needle. She underscores that a single monument can contain multiple, competing histories, requiring a careful negotiation of their meaning in different cultural and institutional contexts, such as the National Gallery in Trafalgar Square or the MET in Central Park. As Cherry concludes, in living with the dead, these statues and remnants signify the importance of unearthing and negotiating historical memory.

AFTERLIVES These debates and questions of ownership of cultural heritage extend to today. In 2011, Zahi Hawass, “the minister of Egypt’s Supreme Council of Antiquities at the time” wrote, “’If the Central Park Conservancy and the City of New York cannot properly care for this obelisk, I will take the necessary steps to bring this precious artifact home and save it from ruin.” Soon after, the obelisk was cleaned by Central Park staff. Hawass’ email proposes questions such as whether maintenance and conservation can prompt the returning or relocation of monuments, and who has ownership over cultural heritage. For now, it appears the obelisk will not be moving from Central Park, but as seen through the monument’s movement over time, that could certainly change in the future.

In today's cultural landscape, questions of which monuments belong in public spaces and what they represent are more urgent than ever. Deborah Cherry, in her discussion of Trafalgar Square’s monuments, addresses the tension between commemorating an imperial history and reflecting present-day values. She concludes her analysis that “in living with the dead, it becomes possible to live ethically, to transform the imperial past – its debts and our indebtedness – for Cleopatra's Needle Lithograph (Image by Elbert E. Farman, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons)

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HOW TO BREAK A CITY? Seunghu Kim

From Dismantling the Cityscape to Hacking Infrastructure SEUNGHU KIM Kingsbridge, 2022, Cyanotype on paper, 12 x 16 inches (Image by Maya Ciarrocchi)

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Seunghu Kim is an urban designer exploring ways to redefine the human relationship with nature, focusing on the right scale for design and framing a proper narrative.

How to Break a City?

How do you picture the river you grew up with? You might remember crisp pristine water between mossy freshness, flowing freely, confident in taking up as much space as it needs. All of New York City was once filled with streams like these, with rivers and wetlands.

Tibbetts Brook is one of these streams, buried when people covered it with concrete to build this city. For 7 miles it used to travel through the Bronx. Now, Tibbetts Brook flows south from a spring in Yonkers for 1.2 miles before entering an underground pipe. It then resurfaces for a short stretch inside Van Cortlandt Park. From there, the fresh water — some four to five million gallons a day — flows down a weir, a kind of a dam. Then it disappears into a pipe, and merges with New York City’s sewer system to be treated unnecessarily. “Most people don’t realize that, right? They look at it and they go, ‘Oh, it’s a waterfall,’ without thinking about where that water goes,” said Christina Taylor, deputy director of the Van Cortlandt Park Alliance.

Every day, about seven-and-a-half Olympic size pools worth of freshwater from Tibbetts Brook enters the city’s sewer system, where it combines with household sewage and is delivered to the Wards Island Wastewater Resource Recovery Facility located on Randall’s Island. When it rains, the 150-year-old sewer system cannot handle all the rainwater, and Ward’s Island, as well as the city’s 13 other treatment plants, spit excess untreated sewage into the rivers — a phenomenon called “Combined Sewage Overflow”, or CSO. Soon this will change, and the fresh water will not end its southward journey at the treatment plant. In June of 2024, New York City's Department of Environmental Protection and Parks and Recreation finalized a $11.2 million purchase of land from CSX Transportation, a railroad freight company that Tibbetts Brook flows under for one mile. Tibbetts Brook will be daylighted — the process of bringing a buried waterbody to its natural, aboveground path — and allowed to flow freely. Acquisition of the CSX property was the final piece needed to daylight the stream. This $144 million project will divert Tibbetts Brook from flowing into the city's sewer system to restore its original watercourse and discharge directly into the Harlem River.

This is the most ambitious green infrastructure improvement happening in the Bronx, which is expected to reduce the 220 million gallons of untreated sewage — kitchen grease, shower water, poop, garbage, and

toxic oil — poured into the Harlem River. Karen Argenti of the Bronx Council for Environmental Quality, one of the groups behind the daylighting, described the news as particularly exciting for many Bronx communities: “Manhattan has greenways. We don’t. We have a drawing on a map. They have an actual greenway.”

Tibbetts Brook was dammed in the 18th century to create and power the mill pond in Van Cortlandt Park. The weir was constructed to control the flow of water. In 1912, Tibbetts Brook was completely buried as the marshlands that surrounded it were filled for development. “It was fine because we have a lot of green space that was absorbing all the rainwater, and we didn’t have as many toilets to put into it. But you know, now we are at the point where it’s not sustainable,” said Taylor.

During superstorms, the impacts are particularly extreme.

“When Sandy came, the storm surge came up the Harlem River and straight up to the CSX property to 238th Street and that was not during high tide” said Argenti. The Kingsbridge neighborhood was the most inundated, which is explained by the history of landscape: it used to be marshland through which Tibbetts Brook flowed. This is true in many of New York City's most flood-prone areas; the patterns of severe inundation areas align with former infill sites, historic watercourses, and wetlands. It seems like the forgotten watercourses are revealed during flash flood events, nature’s way of reminding us what it used to be.

The idea to daylight Tibbetts Brook was first raised by the Bronx Council for Environmental Quality. The organization wanted to redirect the water to the Harlem River. According to Argenti, this took three decades of work. “It’s a slow process. I mean… we had the drawings for the Daylighting of Tibbetts Brook in 1997.” Once the Department of Environmental Protection understood the effects daylighting Tibbetts Brook could have on reducing combined sewage overflows, the project gained momentum. “It became very obvious that the only way they were actually going to reduce the CSO was by daylighting Tibbetts Brook, and that’s what kind of sold it,” said Taylor.

The plan is to modify the weir and daylight one mile of the brook, located in the Kingsbridge neighborhood. At 232th Street, it will enter a pipe again and from there it will be discharged into the Harlem River, not the sewer system.

Multiple public access points will be constructed as well.

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The project is currently in its final design phase which includes street access design and on-going restoration of Hester and Piero’s Mill Pond. Construction is scheduled to begin in early 2026.

Daylighting is perhaps how we start to put cracks into our concrete cities. Tibbetts Brook could dismantle the cityscape through thoughtful deconstruction by unearthing the previously covered stream. It is a one way of adaptation between humans and nature, built infrastructure and natural systems — the wall we have imposed in our attempt to control nature, the line we draw against nature.

The water remembers its historic path and seeks freedom once again.

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How to Break a City?

Tibbetts Brook Park (Image by @ TheTurducken)

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PONDERING THE ROLE OF ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE IN CITIES

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Alessandra Colombo

3050 ALESSANDRA COLOMBO Alessandra is an MSUP student at Columbia GSAPP whose work explores the intersection of data, housing, and urban resilience, examining how digital tools and spatial analysis can inform equitable development.

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In 3050

DEAR DIARY, I’m writing this quickly. The system might not catch it, but you can never be too sure. The cameras see everything.

Even the ink feels heavy, but I need to write. I need to remember what it feels like to think.

This morning, I woke up to the usual glow of the screen on the wall: “Good morning, Citizen #458732! Your sleep efficiency was 87%. Recommended adjustment: reduce caffeine intake. Weather alert: 12°C, drop expected.

Energy redistribution in progress.” Always the same cheerful tone, as if the system cares.

I looked out the window. The streets were immaculate, as usual. A line of security cameras blinked. At every corner, at every intersection, placed high above the city like watchful eyes. People used to say cameras made us safer. Fewer crimes, a society without blind spots. I suppose that’s what we wanted, right? A world where nothing went unseen. Where there were no dark alleys, no accidents.

But then, there’s the silence. Nobody talks anymore, not really. Sure, there are words exchanged, polite smiles, sterile conversations: “Excuse me,” “Thank you,” “Yes, my Citizen Score is 8.7, and yours?” But nothing meaningful. Not since the cameras started watching us.

A wrong word at the wrong moment, caught on the wrong lens, and that’s it.

I walked to work and saw a man in the main square, staring up at the security drone above him. He didn’t move. Just stood there, daring it to see him. The red light blinked, scanning, assessing. It must have flagged him — I could feel it. I wanted to stop, but I didn’t. I couldn’t risk it. My Citizen Score is at a 7.3, barely high enough to

access the express lanes and priority healthcare. One wrong move, one moment of curiosity, and I could lose everything.

Mira is gone. No one says her name anymore, but we all know why. The system didn’t need to chase her, didn’t need brute force. The cameras did the work. It was a slow process: lower scores, restricted access, social isolation. Then, one day, her apartment was reassigned, her ID invalid, her name unspoken. That’s how it works.

The system doesn’t need to drag you into the dark, it just watches as you fade.

I remember when they first installed the cameras. People were excited. No more unsolved crimes, they said. No more fear of the unknown. If you weren’t doing anything wrong, why should you worry? That was the question.

And we all agreed. We let them watch. We let them grow.

And for a while it worked. Crime dropped. The city felt safer. But then, safety turned into scrutiny. Scrutiny turned into control.

They say the cameras don’t watch you, that they just record. But they don’t just see, they judge. They don’t just observe, they remember. And if you’re reading this, if this piece of paper has somehow survived the system, know this: we let this happen. We let safety turn into surveillance. And now, we are prisoners in a city without walls. I stood by the office window, watching the glow of the cameras in the distance. It’s beautiful, I thought. But it’s a cold beauty, isn’t it? Like an urban machine trying to mimic life. The city isn’t alive, it’s a reflection, a projection of what it used to be.

I don’t know how much longer I can do this. Writing helps, but even this feels dangerous. They say the cameras can’t scan handwriting, but who knows? Maybe they’re just waiting, watching me, letting me dig my own grave.

If you’re reading this, know that I tried to remember what it felt like to be human. But maybe that’s the cruelest part.

The system doesn’t need to take your body, it takes your mind. Your heart. Until all that’s left is a reflection in a lens.

Just another face in the crowd. Just another flicker on the screen.

Yours, Winston

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GOBIM: LINGOOM LINGOBIM: WORDS BIM: FR DESIGN WORDS FROM WORDS LINGOBIM: DESIGN TO DESIGN FROM WORDS LINGOBIM: A Natural TO DESIGN Language-Driven FROM WORD Workflow TO DESIGN NGOBIM: OM WORDS John Xianfeng Jiang

JOHN XIANFENG JIANG

John Xianfeng Jiang, also known as Masataka, is a New York / Tokyobased architect, AI researcher, and project manager. He has over seven years of professional experience at Kengo Kuma & Associates (KKAA), where he has led teams on a wide range of projects, including luxury towers, resorts, private residences, and high-end furniture.

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LingoBIM: From Words to Design

Nowadays as cities grow more complex by the day, architects and urban planners face mounting challenges in designing spaces that are efficient, sustainable, and responsive to human needs.

Traditional workflows in architecture and construction are often cumbersome, requiring complicated coordination between multiple stakeholders, manual interpretation of zoning laws, and labor-intensive modeling.

LingoBIM is an experimental tool that leverages natural language processing (NLP) to transform how we approach Building Information Modeling (BIM). The foundation for LingoBIM lies in addressing a fundamental gap between natural human communication and the technical precision required in architectural modeling. Historically, design and construction professionals have relied on specialized software requiring significant training and expertise. This created a barrier for non-experts or groups with limited resources to actively participate in the design process. Additionally, the interpretation of local zoning codes, integration of sitespecific data, and iterative changes to building models have proven time-consuming and prone to errors.

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Generated Model- Wall Configuration (Drawing by author)

professionals and beginners to contribute meaningfully to architectural projects.

The tool's workflow begins with site-specific inputs. Users provide the address of their desired project location, and LingoBIM taps into a GIS API to retrieve the shapefile containing the site's geographic data. ChatGPT, a large language model (LLM) then processes this information, converting it into an XML file compatible with Revit, a widely used BIM software. This step ensures that the foundational site boundaries are accurately established within the BIM environment.

LingoBIM doesn’t stop at site data. It integrates local zoning regulations by parsing through zoning databases to identify constraints such as maximum building height, floor area ratio (FAR), and setback requirements. These regulatory factors – often a source of frustration for architects – are distilled into straightforward keywords and incorporated into the design process without manual effort.

Modeling Logic (Diagram by author)

LingoBIM bridges these gaps by reimagining the interface between designers, technology, and urban planning requirements. At its core, LingoBIM empowers users to communicate their design intents through simple, conversational language, translating these inputs into actionable BIM commands. This approach will democratize the design process, enabling both

WORDS

Once site and zoning data are in place, users can specify their project requirements, such as total floor area, programmatic needs (e.g., residential, commercial, mixed-use), and material preferences (e.g., concrete walls, glass facade). These inputs, combined with the earlier data, are sent to the LLM, which synthesizes them into an optimal massing and layout plan. The result is a building model that respects zoning laws, maximizes site potential, and adheres to user-defined parameters.

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LingoBIM's functionalities also extend beyond technical efficiencies. By simplifying the language of design, the tool fosters inclusivity, allowing communities and stakeholders to participate in shaping their environments.

Imagine an apartment where future residents can articulate their needs—“We want a six-story apartment with a glass façade and a double-height lobby”—and see these visions materialize in real-time. Such collaboration has the potential to redefine architecture as a more participatory and responsive practice.

With LingoBIM, architects and planners can respond to the growing demand for adaptive, sustainable urban spaces with fast speed and accuracy. Municipalities can streamline permitting processes to ensure compliance from the outset. Developers can reduce costs and timelines by minimizing errors and rework. Moreover, as cities contend with climate change and rapid population growth, tools like LingoBIM could be instrumental in achieving sustainability goals. By integrating environmental data and renewable material options into its workflow, the tool can support greener design solutions.

LingoBIM changes how we design, communicate, and construct the built environment. This natural language approach has the potential to make architectural design more inclusive, efficient, and responsive to the complex demands of our urban future.

Video by author (scan code to view)

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LingoBIM: From Words to Design

User Interface Diagram

Workflow (Diagram by author)

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Manas Bhatia

FROM CONFLICT TO CONSENSUS

AI-Driven Engagement for CommunityCentered Urban Design MANAS BHATIA

Scan code to view full project site

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Manas is an architect and artist exploring the intersection of design technology, architecture, and speculative futures, while critically reassessing its evolving role in the field. Currently pursuing a Master’s in Computational Design Practices at Columbia University’s GSAPP, his work – featured on platforms including CNN, BBC and Dezeen, and in international exhibitions – reimagines architectural authorship through generative AI.

From Conflict To Consensus

INTRODUCTION / WHY? What if the power to shape cities no longer rested solely in the hands of planners and developers, but was shared with the very communities who live, work, and thrive in them?

Imagine a space in your city that feels like home — a park, a corner café, or even a quiet garden. Now, imagine learning that this space will soon be replaced by an imposing new building. How would that make you feel?

Would you feel voiceless, unable to protect the places you hold dear?

Let’s consider a real-life example: the Elizabeth Street Garden in New York City. This cherished green space has sparked a heated debate — local residents want to preserve it as a public garden, while city planners propose replacing it with affordable housing for seniors.

This conflict has escalated into protests and legal battles, underscoring a common urban challenge: balancing the needs of development with community aspirations.

Such spatial conflicts are not isolated. They reflect a deeper issue: the disconnect between developers, planners, and residents. As cities expand, the voices of everyday people are often drowned out by the noise of rapid urbanization. How can we ensure that urban development truly reflects the needs and dreams of those who live there?

This project seeks to address this challenge. By using artificial intelligence (AI), we can empower communities to participate meaningfully in shaping their environments. AI tools offer transformative potential for urban planning.

not reflect the specific needs of a community. They might be influenced by design trends from other parts of the world, overlooking what makes a neighborhood unique.

This can lead to solutions that feel out of touch with local culture and priorities. To address this, this project also explores an alternative approach — training an AI model using actual community input. Instead of relying on preexisting data, the AI learns from the voices, ideas, and aspirations of the people it is meant to serve. This way, the technology is not imposing external ideas but helping residents shape their neighborhoods in a way that truly represents them.

AI is not a replacement for human judgment or creativity — it’s a tool to support meaningful participation. While technology alone cannot solve urban planning challenges, this project explores how AI can be used responsibly to create a more inclusive, collaborative approach to citymaking.

So, let’s reimagine urban design — where cities are not just shaped by experts but co-created with the people who call them home. What does your city mean to you, and how would you like to shape its future?

KEY QUESTIONS

Through this project, I want to build a world where cities are shaped not just by experts, but by the people who live in them every day.

How can we create cities that truly reflect the wishes of their people, especially when conflicting interests — government, developers, and local residents — often shape the urban landscape?

How might we leverage technologies like generative AI to bridge the technical gap, empowering residents to actively participate in the design of their environment?

PROPOSED HYPOTHESIS

AI tools can help residents visualize ideas, express their aspirations, and collaborate with planners in ways that were previously difficult. For example, instead of relying on complex architectural software, AI can transform simple descriptions into images or 3D models, allowing people to see and refine their ideas for their neighborhoods. Interactive digital maps can collect and display community input, making local voices more visible in decision-making.

A digital platform or tool that allows local users to voice their opinion by visualizing their proposals or suggestions through generative AI would improve overall community participation in the urban planning and design processes.

However, existing AI models have their limitations. Most AI tools are trained on large, general datasets that may

Through “City.AI,” a proposed visual generative AI tool for civic engagement

Through this project, I want to build a world where cities are shaped not just by experts, but by the people who live in them every day.

HOW?

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This project envisions a future where AI bridges this divide by enabling communities to contribute meaningfully to urban planning. City.AI is a web-based platform with two main tools: "INSIGHT": An interactive map for sharing aspirations and understanding local needs.

"UNIFI": Uses AI to generate and visualize 3D proposals from community inputs.

By capturing local perspectives and creating a collaborative design process, the project challenges traditional top-down approaches to urbanism. It explores multiple scales from streets to neighborhoods and enables practices that align design decisions with collective needs. The tool can be used to solve conflicts, organise design debates or charrettes between multiple stakeholders, and scaled to suit sites, neighbourhoods, and cities.

COMPUTATIONAL TOOLS AND METHODS This project uses AI-driven tools to make urban planning and design more inclusive by enabling community participation. It integrates several computational methods, including AI models that transform written ideas into 3D models, interactive digital maps that visualize community input, and AI-powered analysis to identify trends in public feedback.

Residents can describe their aspirations in text, which the system then converts into 2D or 3D visualizations, providing a tangible representation of their ideas.

Illustrations by author

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Interactive mapping allows users to place and adjust these ideas within a virtual city model, helping them see how their suggestions fit into the larger urban landscape.

A key innovation of this project is its approach to AI training. Existing AI models come with built-in biases, as they are trained on datasets that do not reflect specific community needs or good urban design principles.

These models are not inherently designed to understand or prioritize local aspirations — whether for a space like Elizabeth Street Garden or a GSAPP studio project. To address this, the project collects data from community inputs and the 3D models they generate, using it to train a localized AI model. This model continuously refines itself based on real community wishes, removing external biases and making AI-driven urban design more contextspecific.

This feedback loop — where AI learns directly from community-driven data rather than pre-existing datasets — ensures that urban planning solutions are truly reflective of the people they serve. By combining generative AI, interactive mapping, and custom-trained models, this approach creates a scalable yet locally grounded framework for participatory urban design.

DESIGN METHODS By involving residents directly in the design process, this project shifts the narrative from top-down planning to a collaborative framework. Instead of relying solely on experts or policymakers, communities actively shape

From Conflict To Consensus

Diagram by author

their urban environments. The speculative approach allows residents to imagine alternative futures, while participatory methods ensure that their voices influence these visions. AI and generative tools accelerate this process by enabling rapid visualization and prototyping of ideas.

However, this project also acknowledges the ethical limitations of digital participation. Not everyone has equal access to technology, and generative AI alone cannot solve the systemic barriers to community engagement.

Digital tools, no matter how advanced, are not a substitute for deeper societal change. That said, this project explores how these technologies can serve as a starting point — bringing people together, creating shared visual references, and making community aspirations more visible to decision-makers. Rather than presenting AI as a solution to all urban planning challenges, the focus is on testing its potential as a tool for inclusion, transparency, and collective visioning.

INSIRATION/PRECEDENT Several projects have explored the use of digital tools for community-driven urban design. Platforms like Urbanist AI and Maptionnaire leverage generative AI and participatory mapping to enable residents to visualize and contribute to planning decisions. Similarly, tools like

Commonplace and KPF’s Hawaii Housing Lab (HHL) focus on collecting and analyzing community feedback through interactive mapping and 3D visualization. These precedents highlight the growing potential of AI and digital platforms in democratizing urban planning and design, reinforcing the principles behind Insight and Unifi in fostering more inclusive and responsive design processes.

AUDIENCE / WHO DOES IT IMPACT? The primary audience includes urban residents, community groups, urban planners, and local governments. The platform is designed to empower underrepresented voices in urban planning and design, particularly those excluded from traditional processes.

For alternative audiences, such as children or non-digital natives, simpler interfaces or in-person workshops could make the platform more inclusive. Expanding accessibility through multilingual support and offline modes could further broaden the audience.

DATA This project relies on community input — users describe what they want to visualize through text prompts and contribute by submitting final design ideas or images. By analyzing these inputs alongside site-specific features, we can see how data influences design decisions. Early

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testing took place last semester at Columbia University’s GSAPP, where students participated in shaping a prototype dataset. Their visualizations and prompts were mapped, demonstrating how AI-driven insights can support collaborative urban planning and design.

most sense for the community and the space in question.

The goal is to make design more interactive, accessible, and engaging — so that anyone, regardless of technical skill, can help shape the future of their city.

While the initial focus has been on urban spaces, this approach can be adapted to many different contexts.

For example, in a design school like GSAPP, students often work in pre-arranged studio spaces that may not fully support their needs. This tool could allow them to propose and visualize new layouts—adjusting furniture, creating flexible work zones, or experimenting with spatial arrangements that better reflect how they use the space. Instead of relying on top-down decisions, AI could generate multiple possibilities based on student input, fostering a more participatory design process.

By demonstrating how AI can integrate local perspectives into spatial design, this project explores a broader application: from non-experts shaping their neighborhoods to design experts reimagining their workspaces. It highlights how AI-driven tools can be used not to replace designers but to enhance collaboration, ensuring that spaces — whether public or academic — are shaped by the people who use them most.

MATERIALS/SENSORS/ALGORITHMS: HOW THIS PROJECT USES AI AND TECHNOLOGY This project explores how AI and digital tools can help communities participate in shaping their neighborhoods.

Right now, it uses AI models to turn text into images, giving people a way to visualize their ideas. In the future, instead of just creating flat images, the AI could generate 3D models, allowing users to see their designs from different angles to understand them better.

The project also looks at ways to move beyond typical websites and apps. For example, virtual reality (VR) could let people step into their designs and experience them as if they were real. Another idea is using cameras and projectors to make the experience more hands-on.

Imagine placing wooden blocks on a table to represent buildings—an AI-powered camera could read their positions and instantly create digital designs based on them. Instead of typing, people might even be able to describe their ideas out loud, with AI generating visuals in response.

Not every technology will work the same way in every place. The tools used will depend on what makes the

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City AI website mockups (Images by author)

From Conflict To Consensus

City AI website mockups (images by author)

Elizabeth Street Community Garden (Brafford33, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons)

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Adnan Juzer Kasubhai

DREAMSCAPES OF URBAN FUTURES Navigating the Violence of Attainability

ADNAN JUZER KASUBHAI

AI-generated image prompted by piece

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An architect in search of poetics, Adnan is deeply rooted in text and theory, using them as lenses to challenge architecture and reimagine progressive domains. Originally from Mumbai, he is currently pursuing a Master of Science in Advanced Architectural Design at Columbia GSAPP.

Dreamscapes of Urban Futures

Dreams rise, scaffolded by steel and screens, Blueprinted whispers of futures unseen.

Cities shimmer in AI’s cold glow, Promises of access—but where will we go?

Skyscrapers stretch, shadows long, On land where voices don’t belong.

Pixelated utopias fracture and fall, Who dreams these dreams? Who claims it all?

The soil’s gone silent beneath concrete’s weight, Algorithms carve out a profit-fueled fate.

In this dreamscape’s violence, will we remain?

Or wake to rebuild what the dreaming’s profaned?

Dreamscapes — urban visions shaped by capital and digital abstraction — promise futures of accessibility, intelligence, and resilience. Yet, these imagined futures, often detached from the realities of lived experience, function as illusions of attainability. Borrowing from Arjun Appadurai’s notion of spectral housing — spaces that exist more in speculation than in use — dreamscapes manifest in AI-driven urban visions that privilege optimization over humanity. What is the cost of dreaming in cities designed by algorithms? Can artificial intelligence, with all its computational precision, capture the intimate, messy, and human essence of urban life?

Or does it widen the chasm between the envisioned and the lived, turning the act of imagining futures into a violence of exclusion? AI-driven urbanism, heralded as the future of smart cities, promises seamless integration of technology into urban landscapes: self-regulating traffic systems, climate-responsive architecture, and predictive maintenance. Yet, beneath these promises lies a profound paradox: the dream of equitable, climateresilient cities often erases the very communities it purports to serve. The distance between what AI envisions and what communities experience is vast and troubling. Algorithms, while efficient, lack the capacity to incorporate empathy, cultural nuance, or the lived history of spaces. Instead, they optimize for what can be quantified: land value, efficiency, and economic output.

As a result, urban planning risks becoming an exercise in creating spaces optimized for capital rather than community.

Gentrification, a word that has come to symbolize the dispossession of marginalized communities — is not a new phenomenon. However, in the era of AI, it takes on a spectral quality, creating dreamscapes of unattainability.

Consider the luxury towers that loom over cities like New York and Mumbai — glistening, half-empty monuments to wealth. These structures embody what Appadurai calls “spectral housing,” spaces designed for an elite few, while the displaced hover at the edges of the city, rendered invisible. In these dreamscapes, violence is subtle yet pervasive. It is the violence of eviction notices delivered to long-standing tenants in favor of speculative development. It is the violence of communities priced out of their neighborhoods, replaced by a sterilized aesthetic of “urban chic” that prioritizes curated storefronts over cultural resilience. It is the violence of erasure, where the stories and histories of a place are overwritten by profitdriven visions of the future.

AI exacerbates this violence by reinforcing biases and inequalities embedded within the data it consumes. In planning models, it values areas for investment based on historical returns — a metric inherently skewed by decades of systemic discrimination. As a result, the “future” envisioned by AI looks eerily similar to the inequities of the past, wrapped in a veneer of progress.

Dreamscapes — a concept that interrogates the commodification of dreams under capitalism — offer a useful lens for understanding the allure and danger of these urban visions. Cities become arenas for an unattainable promise: that anyone can participate in their shimmering futures if they work hard enough, save enough, or assimilate enough. Yet, this promise is fiction. The dreamscapes of AI-driven cities are not built for all; they are curated for those who can pay the price of entry. Mumbai’s Bandra-Kurla Complex and New York’s Hudson Yards exemplify this commodification.

These developments market themselves as the epitome of modern urban living, complete with cutting-edge architecture and AI-enhanced amenities. But who are these spaces truly for? Behind their glass facades lies a stark reality: the displacement of informal settlements in Mumbai, the gentrification of adjacent neighborhoods in New York, and the creation of urban islands disconnected from their cities. As urban spaces are transformed into commodities, they lose their capacity to foster genuine community. Public spaces become privatized, access becomes restricted, and the act of dreaming itself becomes an exclusionary practice.

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REIMAGINING URBAN FUTURES If the future of urbanism lies at the intersection of AI and design, we must interrogate who gets to dream and whose dreams are realized. The current trajectory risks creating cities that prioritize compliance over liberation, efficiency over equity, and aesthetics over humanity.

To challenge this, we must resist the dreamscapes of unattainability and envision futures grounded in the principles of justice and inclusion.

Urban design can be a tool for liberation if we reject the logic of commodification and center the voices of those historically marginalized in urban planning.

What if, instead of designing cities around algorithms, we designed them around care? What if we replaced optimization with empathy, profit with purpose, and spectacle with substance? Imagine a Mumbai where informal settlements are not erased, but integrated into the urban fabric, with infrastructure that respects and enhances the lives of its residents. Imagine a New York where luxury towers do not loom over empty streets, but are repurposed into affordable housing, community centers, and spaces of collective care. Imagine cities as ecosystems of belonging, rather than fortresses of exclusion. The violence of unattainability is not inevitable.

It is a choice — one rooted in the systems we prioritize and the futures we imagine. To navigate the dreamscapes of urban futures, we must wake from the illusions of AIdriven urbanism and reclaim the human touch in shaping our cities. Only then can we create spaces that empower, rather than pacify; include, rather than alienate; and liberate, rather than commodify.

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Dreamscapes of Urban Futures

AI-generated image prompted by piece

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David Sathuluri

DELHI

Reimagining a South Asian Capital as an AIDriven Smart City for All DAVID SATHULURI

Market Day: A Vendor’s Array ( Delhi, India) (Image

by Simra Khan)

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David, is a master’s student in Climate Science and Society at Columbia University, is passionate about human rights, justice, and philosophy. In his free time, he enjoys exploring museums, visiting art galleries, and capturing moments through photography.

Delhi

In a world fueled by artificial intelligence, how might the landscape and life of Delhi, a city steeped in history and home to iconic Mughal forts, British colonial buildings, and modern glass towers, transform? Delhi, the heart of the world’s most populated country, presents a unique stage to explore the transformative power of AI. Imagine a smart city optimizing in digital innovation yet rooted in social equity, where AI’s vast potential helps bridge urban divides rather than deepen them.

Delhi has long grappled with two interconnected crises: severe air pollution and stark segregated urban inequity.

The city, frequently enveloped in a toxic haze, suffers from some of the worst air quality in the world. Sources such as vehicular emissions, industrial activities, construction dust, and seasonal crop burning contribute to dangerous levels of particulate matter that exceed safe limits. According to a 2022 World Health Organization report, these pollutants have led to alarming rates of respiratory diseases, cardiovascular issues, and a significant reduction in life expectancy. Simultaneously, an estimated 45 percent of the city’s population reside in informal settlements, often lacking access to clean air, potable water, and essential infrastructure. In light of these pressing challenges, it is worth exploring whether

Crafting Traditions: A Garland Maker (Fatehpuri Flower Market, Chandini Chowk,Delhi,India) (Image by Simra Khan)

artificial intelligence could provide effective solutions to the intertwined issues of air pollution and urban inequity.

A future vision for Delhi must revolve around sustainability and inclusivity. One might imagine, by 2050, a city where electric and shared mobility systems replace fossilfuel vehicles, renewable energy powers households and industries, and urban greening projects revitalize biodiversity while mitigating pollution. Yet, technological advancements must be accompanied by equitable urban policies that ensure no community is left behind. Artificial intelligence can play a pivotal role in this transformation, reshaping Delhi into a smart city that operates seamlessly across its historic quarters and bustling metropolis.

Vivid Hues: A Plant Seller (New Delhi, India) (Image by Simra Khan)

Several real-world examples illustrate AI’s potential to address these challenges. Delhi ranks globally among the cities with the worst traffic congestion, leading to substantial air pollution and loss of productive hours. An AI-driven system like SCOOT, which has successfully optimized traffic flow in London by adjusting traffic signals in real-time, could directly address these issues in Delhi.

By reducing traffic congestion, such a system would not only lower vehicular emissions but also improve the overall efficiency of urban transportation, making it a

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critical technology for Delhi's urban planning.

Delhi also faces significant challenges with urban heat islands and particulate pollution. The Forest Survey of India reports that Delhi’s tree cover is less than the national average, suggesting a major area for improvement. Barcelona’s use of AI to identify opportunities for urban greening can serve as a model for Delhi. Implementing similar technology could help identify strategic locations for planting trees and creating green roofs, which would combat heat, absorb CO2, and improve air quality – all pressing concerns for the health and well-being of Delhi's residents.

Delhi has repeatedly faced public health emergencies due to hazardous air quality levels, particularly during winter months when stubble burning in nearby states exacerbates air pollution. According to the Central Pollution Control Board, Delhi often records 'severe' air quality indices. Beijing's approach, using machine learning to forecast air quality and enforce emissions reductions Feeding Frenzy on the River (Yamuna Ghat, Delhi, India ) (Image by Simra Khan)

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proactively, could be particularly beneficial for Delhi. It would enable authorities to anticipate poor air quality days and implement measures to prevent air quality from reaching hazardous levels. Similar to Beijing’s forecasting, Mongolia’s ability to predict air quality up to 24-72 hours in advance could be transformative for Delhi. This forecasting allows for proactive responses to air quality deterioration, which is crucial to Delhi, given its sudden smog episodes. Reliable forecasting could inform residents and authorities about upcoming poor air quality days, enabling timely interventions such as activating more public transport options, restricting construction activities, and advising schools to adjust outdoor activities.

AI can also be instrumental in addressing urban inequity; policymakers can ensure equitable resource allocation and bridge the gap between affluent neighborhoods and underserved communities.

Delhi

AI can also be instrumental in addressing urban inequity; policymakers can ensure equitable resource allocation and bridge the gap between affluent neighborhoods and underserved communities. Cape Town’s use of AI to map informal settlements using land cover classification analysis and a time series temporal change detection analysis to examine spatiotemporal patterns provides a blueprint for Delhi. AI-driven public transport systems can also prioritize auto connectivity for marginalized areas, reducing both pollution and socio-economic isolation.

Meanwhile, real-time socio-economic data can inform affordable housing projects and healthcare delivery, ensuring that development initiatives reach those who need them most.

Despite its potential, AI is not without potential drawbacks. Extensive data collection raises concerns about privacy and surveillance, especially for vulnerable populations. Implementing AI-driven solutions can also be resource-intensive, potentially widening the gap between well-funded urban centers and under-resourced areas. Additionally, an over-reliance on AI risks sidelining grassroots initiatives and community participation, which are crucial for sustainable urban development. Ethical concerns also arise with AI-driven solutions, particularly

Urban Rest: A Break in the Shade ( Chandini Chowk, Delhi, India) (Image by Simra Khan)

when algorithms inadvertently perpetuate biases, which can lead to unequal resource distribution. Moreover, the integration of AI in areas like privacy and surveillance could further entrench these biases if not carefully managed, posing significant risks to fairness and equity in urban development.

Reimagining Delhi as an AI-driven smart city by 2050 offers an opportunity to tackle its most pressing issues, air pollution and urban inequity, while setting a precedent for other global cities. However, this transformation must prioritize ethical governance, robust infrastructure, and active citizen engagement. AI can provide the tools to address these challenges, but its success depends on integrating technology into a broader framework of sustainability and equity. By embracing this holistic approach, Delhi can become a beacon of innovation and resilience, inspiring cities worldwide to pursue a smarter and more inclusive future.

Morning News: Time for Reflection ( Lajpath Nagar, Delhi, India) (Image by Simra Khan)

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SPECULATING ON THE FUTURE

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Vaibhav Gurung

‘FLOOD-LINE'

VAIBHAV GURUNG Vaibhav is a candidate in the MSAUD program at Columbia GSAPP. He’s an Indo-Nepalese architect and urban designer specialising in engagement, communication, and curation.

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Anticipating the ‘Flood-Line’

Receiving its first Flood Insurance Rate Maps (FIRMs) from FEMA in 1983, New York City was wholly unprepared for Hurricane Sandy in 2012, resulting in 44 deaths, over 69,000 damaged residential units, thousands of temporarily displaced New Yorkers, and an estimated $19 billion in damages. In the aftermath, the city finally received a significantly updated risk map in December 2013, but it proved controversial amongst homeowners. The maps identify areas at varying levels of flooding risk and in need of disaster mitigation assistance.

Depending on these designations, homeowners are required to pay for flood insurance on top of property taxes and mortgage payments. However, with floodrelated disasters growing increasingly common, these premiums are skyrocketing, and the rising hesitance from developers to invest in these high-risk zones creates a landscape of uneven growth. A trend of relocation and retreat has begun amongst the income bands that can choose to do so, leaving behind vulnerable, predominantly communities of color to be potentially displaced in the future, whether due to major floods or the inability to keep up with the costs.

The overall process of maps defining development and investment resembles the discriminatory redlining practices from the 1930s, which reinforced segregation throughout metropolitan cities in the United States.

Urban neighborhoods with a majority of Black or Hispanic families were disproportionately affected, leading to decades of diminished home equity and economic inequality. In NYC, 13.8% of identified high-risk zones overlap with historically redlined neighborhoods, whereas greenlined neighbourhoods overlap 7.1%.

Originally constructed over destroyed marshlands to make way for low-lying, low-performing public housing

under redlined zones, high-rise waterfront properties are now sought after as the epitome of luxury living. Affluent neighbourhoods that sprung up in these once undesirable areas are deemed more important for protection by virtue of their property value. But in the periphery, low-income single-family neighbourhoods that are occupied by historically marginalized communities are overlooked or underdeveloped. The flood risk map has put the same groups at risk of being disproportionately affected, yet again, as a consequence of lines etched in red decades ago. Placing vulnerable groups over vulnerable land with little to no assistance highlights the need for the universal right to shelter. With the current and projected inequitable effects of climate change and a retrospection of the past, a future vision appears where we call these FEMA maps ‘Flood-Lining,’ foretelling the same story of the cyclical suffering of vulnerable groups, the loss of shelter, and subsequent displacement.

Redlining’s impacts are still quantifiably visible, as homeowners in formerly redlined neighbourhoods have gained 52% less personal wealth generated by an increase in property value than those in greenlined neighborhoods over the last 40 years. The racial wealth gap and low homeownership rate for Black families caused by redlining is a recurring point of contention across the US. However, one oddity sits at the edge of New York City. Boasting the highest rate of Black homeownership at 61.3% in comparison to the city’s 32% overall homeownership rate, Canarsie stands as an outlier in a country scarred by racial inequity. However, the struggle for this valued and unique ownership continues.

In addition to redlining during the 1930s and coastal extension by landfills to create unstable ecosystems

2100 Projection for Yearly Flood Insurance Projection in a low to midincome neighbourhood (Graph by author)

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in the 1950s and 60s, white flight during the 90s drove the remaining white working-class families to flee the area. All these events helped Black families purchase houses at reduced prices, becoming the starting point of acquiring generational wealth. Presently, with most of the neighbourhood lying in a high-risk zone, the insurance rates alone have made it difficult for homeowners to retain their family homes. With frequent cases of pluvial flooding, constant maintenance of property also adds up quickly. In NYC, the average annual flood insurance premium on a house in a high-risk flood zone was $3,000 in 2020, with some homeowners paying almost $10,000 per year. Jaded by a hope for change with the persistent threat of gentrification, the community seems increasingly concerned over rezoning, fearing intrusive neighbourhood development and displacement.

While retreating might be an easier option, the plethora of memories and meanings these homes carry cannot be captured in their material value and simply transferred elsewhere. The homes of this community have a resilient virtue that should be preserved in a country that’s infamous for rewriting its history. If Lower Manhattan is worth developing for future resiliency then we must consider redirecting the same attention to a neighbourhood like Canarsie. In cases like these, our priorities reveal patterns of race and income inequality rampant across the global palimpsest.

Experts have criticised the FEMA maps for years due to their glaring inadequacies. The maps generally omit rainfall projections unless they increase water inflow from large bodies of water. Newer developments in dense metropolitan areas are overlooked even though they reduce porosity and increase risk tenfold. Additionally, FEMA has been unable to consider a higher margin of risk to ensure proactivity due to lobbying by local authorities against being flood-lined, resulting in maps that omit parcels of high risk. Without clarity on true flood risks, people continue to move into flood-prone communities.

For example, residents of North Carolina and Tennessee were inundated with unexpected waters rushing into their homes and businesses during Hurricane Helene, even though most of the properties were outside of the officially designated flood zones. Even insured homeowners may receive less than the required amount of compensation due to the lack of adequate federal funds for disaster relief. With the socio-economic divide growing ever so deep in this country, this potentially misleading data and lack of knowledge creates growing distrust in the legitimacy of the maps. This results in a lack of

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affordability, underinsured properties, and resistance from communities to be designated high-risk.

Climate vulnerability and social inequality are closely related, making flooding a matter of environmental justice. Vulnerability to flooding remains a factor of race in a country scarred by segregated eras that are still perpetuated and maintained. The cyclical pattern of marginality will continue as vulnerable communities bear the brunt of climate change. Misinformation and fear mongering exasperate climate anxiety and distrust in the government. However, what may seem like an unavoidable consequence of systemic inequality may also present an opportunity to break the cycle. We may be able to reverse the impact of maps from both the present and years past and see housing as a right, not just an asset or commodity. There’s potential within these flood lines to rewrite and reclaim the story of housing and affordability, to envision a future where everyone receives the safety and dignity of a resilient home and neighbourhood in a changing world.

Anticipating the flood line is the first step. Finding ways to protect and provide for vulnerable communities is what follows. It’s not a one-size-fits-all strategy. Each neighbourhood deserves the care and dignity of being heard and catered to with solutions that are contextspecific and uplift the communities in ways that are best suited for them.

Whether it’s a managed retreat project in Surfers Point in California, a seawall in Elliot Bay in downtown Seattle, floodgates as part of the East Side Coastal Resiliency in Manhattan, or breakwaters in South Staten Island, there are many ways to help turn vulnerabilities into opportunities. But, we must first acknowledge the glaring issues weakening the foundations of these complex and layered communities to prepare, design, and plan for equitable and resilient cities.

Anticipating the ‘Flood-Line’

If Lower Manhattan is worth developing for future resiliency then we must consider redirecting the same attention to a neighbourhood like Canarsie. In cases like these, our priorities reveal patterns of race and income inequality rampant across the global palimpsest.

Collage by author

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RETHINKING THIRD SPACES Zachary Rosman

A Potential Solution to the Loneliness Epidemic ZACHARY ROSMAN

Image by author

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Zarchary Rosman is a Master’s candidate for urban planning at Columbia GSAPP. His favorite third space is Dinosaur Bar B-Que.

Rethinking Third Spaces

To treat the loneliness epidemic, we need a revolution in how we think of third spaces. Over the past few decades, Americans, especially young Americans, have been suffering from loneliness. Such loneliness has led to the proliferation of mental health issues such as depression, alcoholism, and sleep problems, while also increasing the risk of long-term health issues, like heart disease and cancer.

improvements should aim to increase public engagement in shared spaces by 3b space users, while in suburbs there should be investments in walkable, transit-dense communities to build more 3a spaces. Such spaces should have activities that balance the digital and the physical, encouraging movement between 3a and 3b spaces.

According to Akhtar, many friendships outside work and home are found in third spaces: non-school, non-home locations where people socialize. Such places take the form of clubs and organizations, both religious and secular. The recent severing of such connections to these third spaces has resulted in the recent spike in loneliness.

Before the pandemic, people went out to third spaces to meet new people or old friends. During the pandemic, people were suddenly unable to visit third spaces, and pivoted to making friends online instead. These attempts to make friends were mixed, with some blossoming while others failed.

CONTEMPORARY LONELINESS IS TWO FOLD: First, third spaces are inaccessible by foot or by car in many suburban areas due to car-dominated transportation networks. Such suburbia makes it nearly impossible for those without a car to visit third spaces.

Meanwhile, suburban planning discourages those with cars from driving to third spaces, whether it be due to traffic or the inconvenience of a secondary commute.

Suburban planning disincentivizes travel and increases loneliness for both nondrivers and drivers alike.

Second, following the pandemic, most social interactions migrated online, meaning that previous social interactions in offline third spaces have cratered. Moreover, due to the convenience of online spaces, the internet has largely crowded out offline third spaces. Some may think that by turning back time to a pre-internet era, the issue would be fixed, but the internet is both too entangled to our contemporary society to ignore, and it provides real services for those who are lonely. Despite this, the internet will never completely snuff out the need for offline third spaces, as there are certain tangible social interactions that are unique to the real world.

The internet is not going away, so we must consider it as a variant of a third space. As such, we should separate offline non-school or non-work activities into a second variant. We can conceptualize offline third spaces as “3a space”, and online third spaces as “3b space”. Separating the two allows us to rethink socialization across the digital and the physical, providing frameworks for addressing contemporary loneliness.

As urbanists, we should both invest in 3a spaces to encourage in-person interaction, and imagine new ways to combine the offline and online. In urban areas,

CONTEXT ON THIRD SPACES

What’s more, suburban spaces, where a majority of people live, are vectors for loneliness. Most suburban third spaces, due to restrictive single-use zoning laws, pedestrian-unfriendly streets, and a lack of green space, are only accessible by car. Children and teenagers who live in the suburbs lack access to cars, and, with third spaces out of reach, they are left with two choices: either ask their parents or elder siblings for a ride, or remain confined at home. These barriers shift the calculus in favor of staying home and going online rather than going to a 3a space, as inaccessible areas are cast away in favor of the digital world at their fingertips.

The pandemic has shifted this calculus further in favor of the convenience of online 3b spaces. After the pandemic, this new normal of 3b space as a primary social outlet has remained. While more convenient than 3a spaces, for many, 3b spaces are a Faustian bargain that leads to more loneliness down the road as the craving for the faceto-face contact that 3a spaces provide never ceases.

At least partially due to the nature of online friendship detaching people from reality, the loneliness epidemic has proliferated, affecting one in two adults as of 2024.

Around 30 percent of people feel lonely at least once a week, and a tenth once a day, with nearly a third of 18-24 adults feeling lonely every day. The loneliness epidemic has evolved to where friendships over social media or through friendship apps have dominated over the years since the pandemic. That is to say, people are making their initial connections in 3b spaces, rather than the pre-pandemic dominant method of meeting people in 3a spaces. As such, 3a spaces have fallen to the wayside, and the internet has taken over.

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Zachary Rosman

RECENTERING 3A SPACES 3a spaces are important as they are decisive in combating the loneliness epidemic. They offer the faceto-face connections that are deeply desired in a postpandemic world and provide friendships on more solid foundations than the mostly transactional nature of many online friendships.

To successfully compete with rival 3b spaces, 3a spaces must be partially separated from the internet while still accommodating limited online aspects when necessary,

especially to draw people to a shared physical space. In these spaces, there should be a balance between the online and the offline, with phone-free zones and zones designated for internet use. By blending offline and online interactions, 3a spaces can fill a social gap left behind due to urbanization, the COVID-19 pandemic, and the dominance of the internet, rebuilding a sense of community.

Examples of 3a spaces look like a neighborhood bar where people from the community gather for trivia, phones are barred except for an emergency, but where

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Images by author (order: left to right, top to bottom) Figure 1: The Zocalo, a public space in Downtown Mexico City, and a third space for millions of Mexicans.

Figure 2: Star theater in Oceanside, CA. A theater where musical and artistic performances occur, and where people, both past and present have used as a third space.

Figure 3a: Artist Alley in Oceanside, CA. A place where artists can sell their wares and where events are hosted by the merchandise.

Figure 3b: A store within Artist’s Alley.

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Figure 4a: Zoomed Out Image of Forest Bathing and Yoga advertisement for the third space in Riverdale Park in New York.

Figure 4b: Zoomed in Image of Forest Bathing and Yoga advertisement.

Figure 5: Image of the Stacks Kitchen in Matthews, NC. It is a third space in a car-dominated strip mall near a major road corridor, a perfect place for suburban retrofitting.

Figure 6: Dinosaur BAR-B-QUE menu, the author’s personal favorite third space - 125th St/ 12 Ave. in New York.

Rethinking Third Spaces

the trivia signup can either occur at the bar or via an online link. Imagine a runclub, where people meet to run on a regular occurrence, with the runs being fully offline, while internet communication is used to schedule how and where they meet. They could also look like a local makerspace where artists and writers collaborate with each other offline, while people can register for the makerspace either online or in person.

These spaces should not be specialized. Rather, they should be flexible and capable of a variety of functions.

To invite expansive digital communities to gather in shared spaces, they need to remain flexible to adapt to a multitude of use cases. Imagine a 3a space hosting, for example, tabletop games, book clubs, and tasting festivals, possibly at the same time, instead of being reserved for just one function.

Urban planners need to engage with communities to recenter 3a spaces, strategically locating them for accessibility so people are encouraged to move away from 3b spaces. These spaces should be integral to larger projects like suburban retrofits, urban revitalization, or greenfield development, as they are likely not profitable without surrounding development. Moreover, such 3a spaces will provide an offline community center for people, helping to provide flexible spaces for the postCOVID world where people can meet face-to-face. Finally, as being a part of a bigger project, such spaces can take advantage of accessibility improvements like bike lanes, road diets, and transit improvements that come with such projects, which can make it a more tempting choice relative to the internet. Such upgrades will ensure people can access much-needed social time outside of work, school, or the internet, and provide stronger, less transactional bonds of friendship.

CONCLUSION 3a spaces, once areas for socialization and making friends, have been crowded out by online 3b spaces.

Such dominance by the internet has left a gap in many people’s social life of face-to-face contact that people crave to fill – a craving that can only be filled by 3a spaces.

To decisively counteract the loneliness epidemic, of which this desire is a product of, planners and stakeholders must be creative and intelligent with urban design. Both need to use development or retrofitting projects as opportunities to provide new, flexible community centers in the form of 3a spaces. Through this reconstruction of social space post COVID-19, we can combat the isolation of our modern era, while creating new environments where individuals and communities can thrive.

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Salonee Ghosh

THE RISE OF RURALISM RETHINKING SETTLEMENT PATTERNS SALONEE GHOSH Salonee Ghosh is an urban designer and alum of the MS. AUD program at Columbia GSAPP. Her experiences living in Mumbai, Bangalore, and New York City have shaped her interest in research and the evolution of dynamic urban centers.

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The Rise of Ruralism

Out-migration patterns from Dallas (Map by author)

Five years post-pandemic, society seems to have diverged from the course established in the late 20th and early 21st century. The required social isolation, increased reliance on virtual connectivity, normalization of remote work, and a renewed craving for open spaces after the lockdown all contributed to a shift in the psyche of the average 20-something that may have previously aimed for the metropolitan hustle. The immediate aftermath of the pandemic saw apocalyptic images of the deserted cities of the future dominate cultural imagination, alongside very real stories of young couples relocating to the hinterlands.

The year 2025 had long been anticipated as a landmark in global history—a time when trends such as globalization, interconnectedness, and rapid modernization were expected to reach their zenith. However, the global disruption caused by the COVID-19 pandemic introduced large-scale interruptions to many of these trajectories, and forced people, especially the young, to re-evaluate their priorities and personal goals. Cities, as the nexus where these dynamics converge, serve as an ideal platform for academic inquiry.

A United Nations study published in 2018 highlighted that 55% of the world’s population resided in urban areas — a figure projected to climb to 68% by 2050.

Historically, cities have served as employment hubs,

a trend that accelerated sharply in the latter half of the 20th century. For instance, Bangalore, India’s third most populous city and often dubbed the “Silicon Valley of the Indian subcontinent,” witnessed a significant influx of young professionals in the 1970s following government investments in IT, research, and development. Similarly, New York City experienced a 7.7% population growth between 2010 and 2020, outpacing the national average.

Mumbai, with its established formal and informal sectors of employment, recorded a 1.5 million increase in the migrant population between 1991 and 2001.

In addition to the practical draw of economic opportunity, cities and urbanization have long been subjects of romanticization in popular culture. The ‘city-dweller’ tends to be portrayed as street-smart, engrossed in glamorous adventures and city lights. The urban youngster may take a while to adjust to the crowds and perpetual need to hustle, but eventually finds themselves on an upwards social and professional path.

However, the COVID-19 pandemic marked an unprecedented interruption to this narrative. The sudden and global nature of the crisis triggered a mass exodus from cities. Early uncertainty about the virus's severity, coupled with the implementation of social distancing norms, job losses among migrant laborers and blue-collar workers, and widespread panic, drove many to return to

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their family homes. Five years later, one of the pandemic's most enduring legacies has been the normalization of remote work. For white-collar workers, this shift — along with rising urban costs, overcrowding, crime, and heightened health risks — redefined cities' roles in professional development. Increasingly, cities are no longer seen as indispensable to career growth but rather as one of several viable options for living and working.

The flipside of this has led to the rise of ruralism. A growing appreciation for cleaner, greener environments — often paired with a rejection of the relentless urban hustle — has driven significant demographic and

Increasingly, cities are no longer seen as indispensable to career growth but rather as one of several viable options for living and working. cultural changes. Between 2020 and 2022, large urban counties in the United States, including New York City, Boston, San Francisco, Los Angeles, and Chicago, experienced a 10% decline in the population of children under 10. Simultaneously, between 2019 and 2023, IRS applications to start new businesses surged in the country’s smallest metro areas and rural counties.

The Texan cities/counties of Kaufman and Terrell, both within 40 miles of downtown Dallas, exemplify exurban growth, having developed largely independent of Dallas and its peri-urban expansion. Between 2010 and 2020, Kaufman’s population surged by 40%, making it one of the fastest-growing U.S. counties. Terrell’s central position within the regional highway system attracted retail and industrial investments, shaping its economy over the past decade. The rise of remote work in 2021 spurred a wave of domestic migration, prompting Terrell to add 3,000 single-family homes, while Kaufman anticipates doubling its current population of 8,000 within a decade.

Both cities are poised to extend their geographic limits to include surrounding farmlands. In 2022, Kaufman broke ground on a $130 million, 52-acre mixed-use development featuring a sports complex, commercial blocks, and high-end residences, expected to generate 250 jobs post-completion.

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However, there are downsides to pre-emptive developments or reliance on a single, private investor.

Ulster County and the City of Kingston in upstate New York offer a cautionary tale — IBM’s manufacturing plant (1956–1994) was the region’s primary economic driver, fueling housing growth, small businesses, and schools.

Its abrupt closure in 1994, when IBM accounted for 12% of the county’s economy, destabilized the area, requiring decades of recovery and diversification efforts.

Similar patterns have emerged in India. News outlets have highlighted stories of young couples and midcareer professionals abandoning urban traffic snarls and corporate ambitions to return to Tier II and III towns.

Many are embracing community-driven initiatives or launching startups, seeking a slower pace of life that prioritizes fulfillment and purpose over traditional markers of success. Stories like that of Santosh Mahalingam — a Bangalore-based banker who launched a startup connecting corporations with job seekers in smaller towns — illustrate this growing trend of community-driven entrepreneurship. Such initiatives incentivize investment and create a more balanced distribution of opportunities.

This urban exodus to suburban and rural areas and subsequent demographic realignment has led to interesting trends and dualities. Even a minor drop in a city’s population relieves the pressure on its resources but leaves downtown offices vacant. Neighborhoods with young families are viewed as safer, with more social bonds and an incentive to build a sense of community.

The increase in revenue for smaller towns encourages entrepreneurship and retail ventures for younger residents with the means to spend, and who would want options for a lively social scene. Yet, challenges remain, such as potential strain on rural infrastructure, gentrification as suburban areas become more posh, and the risk of deepening inequalities between regions.

The future of cities has been a topic of debate postpandemic, with predictions of collapsing metropolises and mass urban decline. Yet, history proves their resilience — cities evolve rather than collapse. The future of cities is unlikely to be marked by decline or dominance but by reinvention. Already, underutilized offices are being repurposed into housing, while urban density is reimagined with green spaces to enhance environmental quality. However, a large-scale shift away from density remains unlikely, as cities continue to anchor laborintensive industries that cannot go remote.

The Rise of Ruralism

Relocating to rural areas for remote work remains a privilege, largely inaccessible to those in blue-collar and service roles. Even so, rural areas are beginning to emerge as innovation hubs, supported by advancements in decentralized work, smart technologies, and circular economies.

The future may lie in a hybrid, decentralized model: rural areas catering to remote workers while cities expand amenities and support for essential labor. This mutual evolution could enable urban, suburban, and rural spaces to grow interdependently, each contributing uniquely to society. Cities will remain centers of economic opportunity, cultural capital, and essential labor, attracting younger, mobile, and diverse populations. In contrast, rural areas may cater more to remote professionals, retirees, and industries benefiting from lower land costs and self-sustaining economies. Rather than a zerosum shift, the future of settlement patterns could be one of synergy — where dynamic connectivity, digital governance, and localized self-sufficiency redefine how we live, work, and interact across geographies.

Ratherthan than Rather Rather than zero-sum aazero-sum a zero-sum shift,the thefuture future shift, shift, the future ofsettlement settlement of of settlement patternscould couldbe be patterns patterns could be oneof ofsynergy synergy one one of synergy

Masked woman on an otherwise deserted street in Bangalore, India in 2020 (via Wikimedia Commons)

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Ethan Floyd

STREET STYLE Design Notes on the Future of Fifth Avenue ETHAN FLOYD Ethan Floyd (MS UP ‘24) is a creative urban planner, designer, and writer based in New York City. In addition to his work at Diamond Schmitt and Columbia GSAPP, he enjoys traveling and writing about urban curiosities on his Substack.

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Street Style

Image by author

It is a chilly February morning on Fifth Avenue, just days before the start of New York Fashion Week. People are coming and going down each side of the street. Cars are already starting to back up. Horns blare from a delivery truck that’s just missed its green turn light farther down.

As a few people wait at a bus stop across the street, an advertisement showcases CHANEL Watches and Fine Jewelry. Despite the winter weather lingering on, it doesn’t dampen my mood. Perhaps my optimism is because I am imagining a future version of Fifth Avenue: one that prioritizes pedestrians' experience.

There haven’t been many ambitious plans to redesign Fifth Avenue since Robert Moses’ failed proposal to reroute traffic through Washington Square Park as part of his master-planned Lower Manhattan Expressway back in the 1960s. Urban planners will be well-informed about the hard-fought, historical victory led by Jane Jacobs to save the park from being split in half by cars. Now, over half a century later, government organizations, including some that Moses himself used to lead, are envisioning nearly the opposite: a future for Fifth Avenue that prioritizes pedestrians over vehicles. On December 8th of 2024, City Hall announced an initial $152.7 million investment to design and partially fund the construction of the project.

Now, over half a century later, government organizations, including some that Moses himself used to lead, are envisioning nearly the opposite: a future for Fifth Avenue that prioritizes pedestrians over vehicles.

The reimagining of Fifth Avenue as a pedestrian-centered green boulevard was a recommendation of the “New” New York Panel convened by NYCEDC. The project’s official website, futureoffifth.com, describes the end product as: “making Fifth Avenue from Bryant Park to Central Park a vibrant corridor for pedestrians by expanding sidewalks, improving lighting, incorporating seating, trees, plantings, sustainability measures, and spaces for gathering, community interaction, and public space activation.”

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As I walk up the proposed stretch of improvements along Fifth Avenue from Bryant Park on a Friday, I take note of what’s currently there: There are halal carts, Nathan’s hot dog stands, and a Ralph’s Coffee to-go truck. Not many places to sit. Scant trees. No flowers. And definitely not any window cafes or opportunities for the type of window exchange that Jan Gehl studied. Only one-way window displays for staring at shiny objects from the outside looking in like Holly Golightly. And lastly, but glaringly obvious from the start, there is a lot of traffic congestion.

One of the joys of New York living is the thrill of jaywalking across its one-way streets. The incessant rush of taxis, cars, and buses makes certain I don’t attempt that here.

What’s happening today feels contrary to the ethos and spirit of the historic promenade.

Perhaps then, it's time for urban planners to step inside the stores and observe lessons in placemaking and design that can apply to their work in reimagining the Avenue’s public realm. For my Master’s Thesis, I did just that. Over the course of three months I visited numerous stores – including Tiffany’s newly renovated Landmark Image by author

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Building – taking copious notes and remaining evercurious about these immersive retail brandscapes. Here’s what I learned from inside the world of fashion, and what I think could be added to the Future of Fifth proposal: COMMUNICATE HERITAGE The first lesson from my observations in retail placemaking is to incorporate heritage into the built environment. Whether it was through a visual cue, a product’s design, or via direct communication from a client advisor, each retail space that I stepped into, I felt the brand’s heritage right away. Though the city’s latest urban planning project may not be the same as a company’s new branded product, Fifth Avenue and its surrounding built environment contain a history and heritage that deserve to be integrated into the future proposal. The key is to do so in a meaningful way, not superficially, continuously asking the question of who’s heritage, who’s culture, and for whom?

ADD MORE ART Including artworks and sculptures, I’ve observed, can add both visual interest and aesthetic value to the space.

Tiffany’s renovated Landmark Building, which is first and foremost a jewelry store, incorporates artwork on

Street Style

every level in addition to hosting its duplex art gallery on the top two floors. It is free and open to the public to see world-class artwork that might otherwise be on display behind the walls of a ticketed museum. This is just one of many ways the brand has repositioned itself in the luxury market, connecting the fine jewelry maker to the art world and signaling their jewelry as works of art themselves.

Fifth Avenue can and should also be viewed as a work of art and as a place for viewing art that is free from the financial barriers of private museums and stores. Urban planners should advocate for the opportunity to spotlight local, diverse artists in public spaces and at key points up and down the Avenue.

FUNCTION + FORM = STORYTELLING The most obvious connection between fashion and urban planning is a simple logic: that the end product must function and look good. A closing lesson from the contemporary experiences I’ve had and felt inside the experiential worlds of luxury retailers on Fifth Avenue is that when a brand successfully achieves the right alignment between practicality and aesthetic, it evokes powerful storytelling. This is ultimately why fashion is “the thing” that planners should be looking at more often, especially when designing Fifth Avenue. Urban planners stand to have a legitimate impact in sewing together the urban fabric of the built environment and by aligning practicality with aesthetic; by paying attention to how fashion retail has already done so, the planning profession can evoke powerful storytelling – the type that makes people feel something on a personal, emotional level. Maybe that’s just aspirational thinking. Or maybe it really is more. In the end, for designers of dresses, cities, and dreams, it is about identity, attachment to place, and connection in a city.

The most obvious connection between fashion and urban planning is a simple logic: that the end product must function and look good.

Images by author

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Megan Haralovich

THE FIGHT AGAINST BIODIVERSITY LOSS Building Vertical Biodiversity Through Cliff Ecosystem Habitat Analogs in the Urban Environment

MEGAN HARALOVICH Megan Haralovich is a Master's student in Urban Design with a Bachelor's in Landscape Architecture and Ecology. Her thesis on design explores applying a scientifically grounded approach to create ecological, social, and cultural impacts through species-centric design, treating humans and non-humans as equal parts of ecosystems.

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The Fight Against Biodiversity Loss

Globally, we face a sixth mass extinction, with 200 to 2,000 species disappearing each year. Habitat loss remains the leading cause of biodiversity decline. One proposed solution is increasing urban density, which introduces more vertical surfaces through buildings while preventing urban sprawl from removing more habitat. This creates unique opportunities to enhance biodiversity and foster an urban ecosystem.

Living walls today are designed to support plant growth on various structures. Design features include a waterproof backing, establishing an irrigation network, and sometimes providing fertigation (injection of fertilizers), as well as lighting and monitoring to ensure the success of the plants. Long before the invention of the living wall, botanists observed flora thriving on walls, ruins, and old buildings for centuries. Tourists still flock to old European buildings to admire the beauty of wall vegetation. In the early 1990s, designers drew inspiration from epiphytic plants (a plant that grows on another plant) in tropical forests when creating the first designs for living walls. Their initial purpose focused on aesthetics before climate mitigation. Most recently, designers and engineers have started to strategically engineer living walls in a more radical movement to create urban biodiversity and beneficial ecosystem processes.

Many of the plants found or used in living walls are native to cliff ecosystems. Researchers suggest that these species thrive on buildings because they mimic cliffs, leading to the “Urban Cliff Hypothesis”, which proposes that a significant amount of species that spontaneously colonized cities - including pigeons and raccoons originated from rock habitats, such as cliffs and stones.

After all, the urban built environment (e.g. pavements, walls and roofs) resembles such habitats.

Researchers previously believed that harsh anthropogenic human conditions in cities did not allow for biodiversity. Today, experts widely agree that “eco-mimicry,” a form of ecological engineering that replicates the characteristics of natural cliffs in urban environments,can help address challenges in the urban space posed by variations in sunlight, moisture, and the types of species present, or what scientists call “abiotic and biotic differences”.

Cliff ecosystems were long overlooked in research due to the belief they were devoid of flora and fauna. However, their vertical surfaces with textures, crevices, ledges, and rich biodiversity of plants create diverse microclimates

Figure 1a. A hand-drawn conceptual rendering of a living wall analog modelled after a cliff ecosystem. This wall concept and the flora and fauna depicted are based on the Niagara Escarpment cliff ecosystem in Canada. Different modules mimic cliff habitat heterogeneity (the most critical factor in increasing biodiversity) and support a diverse range of species. The above image represents the human perspective of the living wall concept.

(Drawing by author)

(different climates in the same area) and microhabitats (different habitats in the same area) that support a high biodiversity of flora and fauna. By combining ecological research and landscape architecture to treat buildings as analogs to local cliff ecosystems, we, as landscape, architectural, and urban designers, can play a role in solving the urgent global issue of biodiversity loss.

Cliff habitat analog living walls enhance biodiversity by supporting a wide range of flora and fauna, not only through plantings, but also by engineering habitats that accommodate species at various stages of their life cycles. Enabling certain species to use living walls for their entire life cycle rather than as temporary stopping points creates a more connected ecosystem. Expanding the implementation of living walls would further support species’ survival chances. Figure 1 presents a conceptual modular living wall design that prioritizes native cliff species and includes habitat modules – a method not yet fully explored in living wall construction – to mimic cliff habitat heterogeneity (the most critical factor in increasing biodiversity) and support a diverse range of species, boosting biodiversity.

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As scientific research on cliff ecosystems and ecomimicry expands, designers and engineers can integrate new principles into living walls to enhance design success. Current research suggests that increasing heterogeneity and using native cliff species will result in the highest generation of biodiversity on a living wall.

Figure 1b. The non-human species perspective of the living wall concept (Drawing by author)

Increasing heterogeneity in living walls involves creating microclimates and microhabitats similar to those on cliffs. Man-made cliffs, i.e.buildings, already share many of these properties, making them ideal for living walls.

Additionally, replicating the three primary cliff strata — cliff edge, face, and talus slope — fosters biodiversity by supporting diverse microclimates and microhabitats (Figure 2). Microhabitats that can be created include hunting/scavenging spots, resting ledges, nesting sites (e.g., caves, crevices, tree trunks), and refuge areas, supporting the complete lifecycle of birds and small mammals. Additionally, sand and clay mixtures for insects, along with substrates for overwintering, will enhance habitats for pollinators (Figure 1b & Figure 3).

Strategic species selection is the second key to increasing biodiversity on living walls. As research shows, plant failure often results from mismatched environmental and microclimate needs. By designing living walls to mimic cliff ecosystems, plants are more likely to thrive.

The UNA TERRA living wall project at the University of Stuttgart, Germany, featured a diverse mix of plants and insect habitats. Initially planted with 34 species, it saw an increase to 36 plant species and 62 insect species after only four months, demonstrating the wall’s integration into a broader ecosystem and its contribution to biodiversity.

Figure 2. The natural primary cliff strata. The cliff edge, the cliff face, and the talus slope. (Drawing by author)

The location of living walls is just as important as their construction. They can act as corridors connecting green roofs and park habitat patches, allowing species to move safely through the urban landscape. This connectivity helps create a larger urban ecosystem, where larger habitat patches and connections boost biodiversity. An urban ecosystem is defined by interacting organisms and their environment in the urban space. An urban ecosystem creates ecosystem services (benefits that humans receive from healthy ecosystems). This urban ecosystem can connect with natural ecosystems outside the city, helping to integrate urban areas into the wider global ecosystem while boosting biodiversity within urban environments.

Modelling living walls after cliff ecosystems offers the advantage of leveraging an existing ecological framework

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The Fight Against Biodiversity Loss

– one with established physical characteristics, plant species, and microclimates – that functions as a unified ecosystem and supports rich biodiversity.

Living walls should be seen as part of a broader strategy of implementation, working alongside other green infrastructure elements like green roofs, bioswales, rain gardens, and parks to create a cohesive urban ecosystem.

Figure 3. Hand-drawn representation of a series of modules used in the conceptual living wall design (Figure 1(a,b)). The modules are designed for various purposes: some for bird perching, hunting, and nesting; others for insect overwintering and pollination; and separate modules provide shelter for small fauna.

(Drawing by author)

The location of living walls is just as important as their construction.

They can act as corridors connecting green roofs and park habitat patches, allowing species to move safely through the urban landscape.

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Florentina Anastasia, Kevin Trikusumo Febriansyah

FLORENTINA ANASTASIA Florentina is an urban designer and planner in practice and an MSAUD GSAPP alumna, currently exploring writing as an exploration and reflection medium. Her experiences in big cities triggered her curiosity and made her a keen and critical observer of her surroundings - the people, built environment and policy.

KEVIN TRIKUSUMO FEBRIANSYAH Designing the Future: Lines of Capital Growth and Inequity (Image by author)

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Kevin is an architect working at a design firm called PDW Architects in Indonesia. His experience working at a firm specializing in commercial projects has sparked a deep curiosity within him about the progress of human-centered design.

A Moment to Reflect

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DRAWING DIVIDES: THE FUTURE THROUGH LINES OF POWER

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Humans are inherently drawn to fiction, a tool that allows us to simulate the world, imagine alternate realities, and envision possible futures. Over time, this fascination has expanded across scientific studies and pop culture, giving rise to subgenres that either celebrate the marvels of a highly advanced society or warn of its dystopian consequences. One striking depiction is Metropolis, a film that imagined a futuristic city dominated by towering megastructures, airborne transportation, and AI-driven robots—a vision set in 2026. Now, nearly a century later, our world reflects fragments of this imagined future. But whose vision are we truly living?

of specific groups—a reality that persists today. As capital growth enables individual ownership of property, the scope of designers' work becomes confined within these boundaries, regardless of scale, from private building to regional planning.

This confinement often biases the designer’s perspective, aligning it with the interests of property owners while overlooking broader urban impacts.

Fut

In pre-modern societies, designers—often referred to as builders or artisans— served rulers or religious institutions.

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of D

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ed D

and symbolic order.

During the early modern period, Henri Lefebvre’s On the ground, the luxurious towers of Kemang Village in Jakarta, a concept of abstract space mixed-use complex, stand in stark contrast to the adjacent dense emerged—a space shaped settlements. This division creates peculiar interaction: food by market forces, technology, vendors cater to blue-collar workers through small openings in and bureaucratic planning. This the massive wall that separates these two worlds. This scenery shift prioritized exchange value evokes a pressing question: Is the polished future reserved over human needs, fostering exclusively for the affluent? And for those excluded, are urban environments and planning spontaneous spaces at development boundaries their frameworks aimed at maximizing only foothold in this future? If so, we are living in the economic outputs rather than very future critiqued in Metropolis, where technological community well-being. As capitalism progress is inextricably linked to rising social inequity. expanded, space production became commodified, and designers evolved This writing reflects on the role of designers tasked into specialized professionals. Practices with envisioning the future—crafting public such as zoning and functional separation spaces, buildings, and cities while navigating the were framed as social advancements economic constraints and priorities outlined in but often aligned with capital objectives. client briefs. Yet, the designer’s role is far from In the modern era, designers have become static. Throughout history, spatial designers increasingly institutionalized, focusing on have never existed in isolation but have been spaces that facilitate industrial production and deeply shaped by—and have themselves market exchange. Space has increasingly been shaped—the political and economic reduced into iconological figures and values, contexts of their time. This interplay has where materials, forms, or even colors are imbued driven the evolution of the designer with meaning, often masking the illusion of societal profession, which can be broadly progress. categorized into three distinct historical categories aligned with Reflecting on the evolution of the designer’s role, it is clear capital accumulation. that designer’s work has always been tied to the interests

The

Their work, exemplified by temples or palaces, reflected the hierarchical

Economic pressures from clients further exacerbate this issue, as property owners prioritize concerns within their boundaries, expecting others to address the consequences that extend beyond.

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A line, while visually uncomplicated, carries profound A massive wall with small openings separates Jakarta's implications—symbolizing power, security, or ignorance. upscale Kemang Village from adjacent dense settlements, For the privileged, it offers control; for the underprivileged, it highlighting a stark physical and social divide. Spanning imposes limitations and reinforces inequity, shaping the lived 15 hectares, Kemang Village offers luxurious spaces experiences of those on either side. for the affluent, despite DP Architects’ intent to harmonize with the low-rise surroundings. The wall While the design has the potential to reimagine the practical itself enforces this segregation, though residents concerns of how people inhabit a place, the desire for profit requested openings to allow vendors access. often forces certain groups of those impacted into specific boxes.

Nafsiah, one such vendor, transformed her THE DESIGN IMPACTS: GLOBAL AESTHETIC AND LOCAL bedroom into a food stall for construction workers, SEGREGATION later expanding her services to mall employees The tendency to prioritize client-driven economic pressures over and renting rooms to workers. Her story reflects inclusive design is increasingly evident in global design practices. the resilience of those excluded, who adapt In cities worldwide, global aesthetics often overshadow social needs. creatively to survive on the periphery. The This influence grows alongside the growth of compact developments– wall exemplifies how compact developments mixed-use projects, gated communities, and city zoning plans. While prioritize exclusivity for the privileged, praised for their efficiency in accessing essential services and enhancing deepening social divides under a polished security, these developments often reinforce social segregation. facade.

Peeking Through The Hole (Image by author)

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A A Moment Moment to to Reflect Reflect

Two Sides of The Wall (Image by author)

"[The wall] symbolizes the fear of those within while marginalizing those outside"

A larger scale of wall, Lima’s “Wall of Shame,” built in the 1980s on San Francisco Hill, segregates the affluent gated community of Las Casuarinas from the selfbuilt settlements of Pamplona Alta. Las Casuarinas, developed in the 1950s by the Compañía water costing ten times more than in serviced areas. Although Urbanizadora Las Casuarinas de Monterrico SA, Pamplona Alta residents are employed as domestic workers, was founded by a husband and his architect wife. they remain physically and socially marginalized.

It transformed farmland into an exclusive enclave.

During the 1980s, amid terrorism and property The wall exemplifies how design decisions driven by affluent invasions, affluent residents financed the wall residents and supported by developers—who may also act as to "protect" themselves. And while it shields designers—prioritize security and exclusivity for the privileged. the wealthy, the wall visually and socially Urban planner Pablo Vega Centeno notes that the wall marks social marginalized Pamplona Alta residents, who differences through physical elements, selling a sense of security while view it as a way to conceal their huts. disregarding equitable resource distribution. It symbolizes the fear of those within while marginalizing those outside, highlighting a failure of On one side of the wall are mansions comprehensive city planning. with pools and gardens; on the other, 15–25 sqm homes from recycled materials, lacking basic services, with

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Florentina Anastasia, Kevin Trikusumo Febriansyah

City-scale barriers in Dubai, formed by extensive roadways, starkly divide environments rather than allocating new economic-driven developments from overcrowded settlements. As the adequate time for thorough research city shifted toward post-oil urbanism, it diversified its economy by investing and design development. in non-oil sectors such as tourism and trade, creating free trade zones to Regrettably, to sustain the practice, attract global businesses. With deregulation and minimal restrictions on real designers remain highly dependent estate firms, urban growth is driven by economic and marketing priorities, on clients—the capital holders— making design a key tool for projecting global city aesthetics in the direction compromising the designer’s role, of attracting investors and tourists. reducing it to fulfilling the visions of Attracting more foreigners, Dubai’s population is highly diverse, with those with financial control. Marginalized expatriates making up 75% of residents as of 2023, yet this diversity is communities—the unheard voices marked by deep social segregation. Gated communities and luxury towers, beyond the client’s property boundaries— overlooking the Persian Gulf, are socially homogeneous by income, while are often overlooked despite the across the roadways, labor camps such as Sonapur, on the city's outskirts, bargaining power that designers hold. house low-income immigrants in overcrowded, unsanitary conditions. This, ultimately, turns design into a tool that Interviews with African migrants reveal the harsh realities of Dubai's bed- justifies subjective client desires, creating space communities, where many endure worse living conditions than in space that seems positive yet in fact is not. their hometown, unable to afford basic accommodations and unwilling Marginalized communities, unable to afford to return home empty-handed. designers, are excluded from shaping future spaces, which cater to the privileged and Dubai’s urban planning and design prioritize global recognition, the global recognition cities seek. Yet, these creating enclaved developments supported by expansive roadways groups bear the cost of spaces built for others, that benefit the privileged. In this context, urban design acts as a created by us. If this approach persists, the marketing tool to attract investors and tourists, while vulnerable future will never be for everyone, it will belong migrants bear the cost of this development through marginalization only to those who can finance it. and poor living conditions To bridge this gap, designers must prioritize social capital alongside economic concerns, These case studies illustrate how socio-economic interrelations incorporating those beyond the property influence not only objects and structures but also the political boundaries into the design process. Moving power they embody. Elements of the built environment—fences, beyond physical and financial constraints, design walls, roads, and bridges—profoundly impact social dynamics by must become a tool for dialogue, inclusivity, and defining territories and restricting access. As Langdon Winner collaboration among all stakeholders. By shifting argues, artifacts may seem neutral, but their design often reflects from imposing subjective control to facilitating political choices, reinforcing existing hierarchies and shaping meaningful conversations, designers create spaces society as much as formal policies. Designers, therefore, play that reflect diverse voices and foster equity, rather a pivotal role in embedding these political-physical elements than serving as mere showcases for client-driven within urban environments. interests.

DESIGNING THE FUTURE (IN)EQUITY

Examples from Kemang Village, Las Casuarinas, and Dubai reveal how economic pressures in design perpetuate inequality.

Driven by profit, the built environment becomes a commodity, shifting from functional purposes to speculative investment objects. Designers, constrained by market demands, are often reduced to superficial roles, focusing on style and aesthetics to appeal to consumption rather than addressing broader societal needs. As Mangold argues, this focus marginalizes design within the larger economic framework, treating it as frivolous and secondary to practical concern.

Utilizing design as a profit-driven tool escalates exploitation under these pressured, competitive and fast paced work

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A Moment to Reflect

Dubai Contrast Developments Between Roadways (Image by author)

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Citations

HI HA ROBA ESTESA! A MANIFESTO FOR HANGING LAUNDRY ON THE STREETS Words and visuals by Olímpia Solà Inaraja Edited by Luca Marcelli Bio Olímpia Solà Inaraja is an architect from Catalonia (Barcelona) who studies Critical, Curatorial and Conceptual Practices in Architecture at Columbia University. She enjoys researching the city and the intersection between architecture and other artistic disciplines. In her free time, she reads, practices figure drawing, and strolls around New York.

HOME BEYOND WALLS: RETHINKING HOUSING FOR AN INTERCONNECTED FUTURE

SPATIAL ODDITIES: ON MIXED-RACE FUTURES Words and visuals by TJ Yoshimura Small Edited by Yang (Alyson) Zhou Bio TJ often finds himself sitting at the intersections of environmental science, critical cartography, and spatial justice. Thinking about and fighting for equitable planning and architectural practices in our cities is a daily ritual.

Words and visuals by Madlen von Wulffen Edited by Yang (Alyson) Zhou

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CRACKS IN THE PLASTER: THE MERCHANT’S HOUSE FACES DOWN A SHADOWY DEVELOPER Words by John Sandman Visuals by John Sandman and the Historic American Buildings Survey Edited by Jaron Kaplan Bio Brooklyn resident John Sandman republished a new edition of his 2018 novel about student loans, Debt Collectors in Love, in 2025.

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NEOM: AN INNOVATIVE FUTURE OR A FAMILIAR FALLACY? Words and visuals by Yerandy Pacheco Edited by Luca Marcelli Bio Yerandy is a first-year MSUP student at Columbia GSAPP with a specific interest in how cities function and operate. On days off, Yerandy enjoys creating music and connecting with communities through the arts.

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ENTER THE UTOPIA LAB: FUTURE MAKING WITH URSULA LE GUIN’S OMELAS AND ODO

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Words and by Julian Krusic O’Donnell Edited by Yang (Alyson) Zhou

HOPE FOR MOSCOW

Bio Julian Krusic O’Donnell is a second-year M.Arch student at Columbia’s Graduate School of Architecture, Planning, and Preservation, a Core II studio mentor, research assistant for GSAPP’s Housing Lab, and a graduate of the Rhode Island School of Design. His investigations seek lost or forgotten intelligence and fresh perspectives in the borderlands of art, architecture, and urbanism, writing and making, the built and the unbuilt.

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Words by Elizabeth Kostina Edited by Erma Swartz Visuals by Ben Rees, Vadim Artyukhin, Victoria Pickering Bio Elizabeth Kostina is a 1st year MS Student studying Historic Preservation at Columbia University. She currently interns at World Monuments Fund as their Public Programs Intern and is interested in working in post-conflict reconstruction.

PLANNING FOR INNOVATION - THE CASE OF BERLINADLERSHOF Words by Benedetta von Palombini Edited by Otis Emslie Bio Benedetta studies Urban Planning at Columbia University and is interested in combining spatial analysis with participatory design and community-centered practices to improve public infrastructure.

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Words and visuals by Bimo Wicaksana Edited by Erma Swartz

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THE EVANESCENCE OF SPATIAL EMPATHY

Bio Bimo Wicaksana studies Architecture and Urban Design at GSAPP Columbia University. His dream is to integrate philosophical reasoning into urban design practices to cement our foundation in embracing this new era of uncertainty.

CLEOPATRA’S NEEDLE, NEW YORK: SIGNIFICATIONS, RESONANCES, AND APPROPRIATIONS Words and visuals by India Halsted Edited by Benedetta von Palombini Bio India Halsted is an artist and writer based in New York. She is passionate about architecture and film and spends most days in the trenches of the art world.

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HOW TO BREAK A CITY? FROM DISMANTLING THE CITYSCAPE TO HACKING INFRASTRUCTURE

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Bio Seunghu Kim is an urban designer exploring ways to redefine the human relationship with nature, focusing on the right scale for design and framing a proper narrative.

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Citations

IN 3050 Words by Alessandra Colombo Edited by Benedetta von Palombini Visuals by Jane Cole Bio Alessandra is an MSUP student at Columbia GSAPP whose work explores the intersection of data, housing, and urban resilience, examining how digital tools and spatial analysis can inform equitable development.

LINGOBIM: FROM WORDS TO DESIGN — A NATURAL LANGUAGE-DRIVEN WORKFLOW Words and visuals by John Xianfeng Jiang Edited by Jaron Kaplan Bio John Xianfeng Jiang, also known as Masataka, is a New York / Tokyo-based architect, AI researcher, and project manager. He has over seven years of professional experience at Kengo Kuma & Associates (KKAA), where he has led teams on a wide range of projects, including luxury towers, resorts, private residences, and high-end furniture. John’s unique career bridges the confluence of design, technology and management. He brings to the design process a practical understanding of construction, and devotion to craft, that is marked by his belief that the most sustainable architecture reveals, instead of covers the natural beauty of our world. Notable completed work includes Endo at the Rotunda (London), Aman Miami Beach (Florida), LA Brooktree House (California), and Alberni Tower (Vancouver). John is a member of the Architectural Institute of Japan (AIJ) and holds a Master’s degree in Computation from ColumbiaUniversity and in Architecture from Hokkaido University.

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Muhammad, I., K. Ying, M. Nithish, J. Xin, Z. Xinge, and C. C. Cheah. “Robot-Assisted Object Detection for Construction Automation: Data and Information-Driven Approach.” IEEE/ ASME Transactions on Mechatronics, 2021.

Piazzai, R. “AI and BIM Integration: Redefining Efficiency and Opportunities in the AEC Industry.” September 23, 2024.

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FROM CONFLICT TO CONSENSUS: AI-DRIVEN ENGAGEMENT FOR COMMUNITY-CENTERED URBAN DESIGN Words and visuals by Manas Bhatia Edited by Benedetta von Palombini

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Bio Manas is an architect and artist exploring the intersection of design technology, architecture, and speculative futures, while critically reassessing its evolving role in the field. Currently pursuing a Master’s in Computational Design Practices at Columbia University’s GSAPP, his work – featured on platforms including CNN, BBC and Dezeen, and in international exhibitions – reimagines architectural authorship through generative AI. A Forbes 30 Under 30 Asia nominee, he has collaborated with Google Italy, spoken at institutions like Oxford School of Business, and was featured in the PBS documentary “A Brief History of the Future”.

Works Cited Bibri, Simon Elias, et al. "The Synergistic Interplay of Artificial Intelligence and Digital Twin in Environmentally Planning Sustainable Smart Cities: A Comprehensive Systematic Review." Environmental Science and Ecotechnology 20 (2024): 100433. https://doi.org/10.21428/e4baedd9.f78710e6.

Bloomberg News. "AI-Powered Urban Innovations Bring Promise, Risk to Future Cities." Bloomberg, March 13, 2024. www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2024-03-13/ai-poweredurban-innovations-bring-promise-risk-to-future-cities.

Hsu, Yen-Chia, et al. "Empowering Local Communities Using Artificial Intelligence." Patterns 3, no. 3 (2022): 100449. https:// doi.org/10.1016/j.patter.2022.100449.

Williams, Sarah, et al. "People-Powered Gen AI: Collaborating with Generative AI for Civic Engagement." An MIT Exploration of Generative AI, September 2024. https://doi.org/10.21428/ e4baedd9.f78710e6.

DREAMSCAPES OF URBAN FUTURES: NAVIGATING THE VIOLENCE OF ATTAINABILITY Words by Adnan Juzer Kasubhai Edited by Jane Hutton Bio An architect in search of poetics, Adnan is deeply rooted in text and theory, using them as lenses to challenge architecture and reimagine progressive domains. Originally from Mumbai, he is currently pursuing a Master of Science in Advanced Architectural Design at Columbia GSAPP. He aspires to continue exploring the intertwining of theory and praxis, envisioning a future where critical thought informs architectural action.

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Debord, Guy. 1977. The Society of the Spectacle. Detroit: Black & Red. Deshmukh, Swapnil, and Bhagyajit Raval. 2022. "Impact Assessment of Mumbai Coastal Road on Livelihood of Fishing Community, Mumbai, India." International Journal of Scientific Research in Engineering and Management, November 18. https://ijsrem.com/download/impact-assessment-of-mumbaicoastal-road-on-livelihood-of-fishing-community-mumbai-india/ Fanon, Frantz. 1963. The Wretched of the Earth. New York: Grove Press.

Re-thinking The Future. 2024. "Project in-Depth: The Mumbai Coastal Road Project." Re-thinking The Future. Accessed December 14, 2024. https://www.re-thinkingthefuture.com/ case-studies/a9521-project-in-depth-the-mumbai-coastal-roadproject/ DELHI: REIMAGINING A SOUTH ASIAN CAPITAL AS AN AIDRIVEN SMART CITY FOR ALL Words by David Sathuluri Edited by Otis Emslie Visuals by Simra Khan Bio David, a master’s student in Climate Science and Society at Columbia University, is passionate about human rights, justice, and philosophy. In his free time, he enjoys exploring museums, visiting art galleries, and capturing moments through photography.

Works Cited Abhijit Banerjee and Michael Walton. Delhi’s Slum-Dwellers: Deprivation, Preferences and Political Engagement among the Urban Poor. International Growth Centre, 2012. https://www. theigc.org/sites/default/files/2014/10/Banerjee-Et-Al-2012Working-Paper.pdf.

Iacopo Testi and Nadina Galle. “AI for Greener, Healthier Cities: Data for Urban Nature Planning." Medium, April 28, 2022. https:// medium.com/urban-ai/ai-for-greener-healthier-cities-data-forurban-nature-planning-c3b0ef382fed.

Jonathan Cinnamon and Tanner Noth. “Spatiotemporal Development of Informal Settlements in Cape Town, 2000 to 2020: An Open Data Approach.” Habitat International 133 (2023): 102753. https://doi.org/10.1016/j. habitatint.2023.102753.

United Nations Economic and Social Commission for Asia and the Pacific. Meeting Report of the High-Level Forum on Clean Air. United Nations ESCAP, 2023. https://www.unescap.org/sites/ default/d8files/event-documents/Meeting%20Report%20of%20 HLFCA_final.pdf.

World Health Organization. "Types of Pollutants." World Health Organization. https://www.who.int/teams/environment-climatechange-and-health/air-quality-and-health/health-impacts/typesof-pollutants.

ANTICIPATING THE ‘FLOOD-LINE’ Words by Vaibhav Gurung Visuals by Vaibhav Gurung, Vicky Slndac, Mutita Ouk, and Karunia Ayu Edited by Jane Hutton Bio Vaibhav is a candidate in the MSAUD program at Columbia GSAPP. He’s an Indo-Nepalese architect and urban designer specialising in engagement, communication, and curation.

Works Cited Anderson, Dana. “How Redlining Caused a Wealth Gap and Low Homeownership for Black Families.” Redfin, June 11, 2020. https://www.redfin.com/news/redlining-real-estate-racial-wealthgap/. Accessed January 9, 2025.

Capps, Kriston, and Christopher Cannon. “Redlined, Now Flooding.” Bloomberg, 2021. https://www.bloomberg.com/ graphics/2021-flood-risk-redlining/. Accessed January 9, 2025.

Chen, David W. “After Floods, Soaring Insurance Rates Become a Hot Election Issue.” The New York Times, October 9, 2024. https://www.nytimes.com/2024/10/09/us/insurancecommissioner-hurricane-north-carolina.html. Accessed January 9, 2025.

Irfan, Umair. “Hurricane Milton, Helene: Is the Home Insurance Industry Doomed?” Vox, October 9, 2024. https://www.vox. com/climate/377094/hurricane-milton-helene-home-insuranceflooding-damage. Accessed January 9, 2025.

Kaufman, Leslie. “Helene Dumps Rain on Millions of US Homes That Lack Flood Insurance.” Insurance Journal, September 30, 2024. https://www.insurancejournal.com/news/ national/2024/09/30/794787.htm. Accessed January 9, 2025.

Landau, Meryl Davids. “Many Americans Are Buying Homes in Flood Zones—and Don't Realize It.” National Geographic, 2024. https://www.nationalgeographic.com/science/article/floodmaps-fema-risk-insurance. Accessed January 9, 2025.

Schwob, Olivia, et al. “NYC Homeowners Face Huge Unknowns as Flood Insurance Changes Loom.” City Limits, September 18, 2019. https://citylimits.org/2019/09/18/nyc-homeowners-facehuge-unknowns-as-flood-insurance-changes-loom/. Accessed January 9, 2025.

RETHINKING THIRD SPACES: A POTENTIAL SOLUTION TO THE LONELINESS EPIDEMIC Words and visuals by Zachary Rosman Edited by Jaron Kaplan Bio Zachary Rosman is a Master’s candidate for urban planning at Columbia GSAPP. His favorite third space is Dinosaur Bar B-Que. Works Cited Agomuoh, Fionna. “Internet Friends During the Pandemic.”

Mozilla Blog, 2021. https://blog.mozilla.org/en/internet-culture/ internet-friends-during-pandemic-online/.

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Citations

Akhtar, Amina. “Urban Planning, Friendship, Houston, Cars, and Loneliness.” Vox, 2022. https://www.vox.com/ features/23191527/urban-planning-friendship-houston-carsloneliness.

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Djoshari, Naomi. “Post-COVID Friendships: Easy to Break, Hard to Make.” The Lance, 2022. https://lhslance.org/2021/news/ post-covid-friendships-easy-to-break-hard-to-make/.

Expert Commentator. “Convenience Is Driving E-Commerce Growth and Influencing Consumer Decisions.” Smart Insights, 2020. https://www.smartinsights.com/ecommerce/customerexperience-examples/convenience-is-driving-e-commercegrowth-and-influencing-consumer-decisions/.

Flanigan, Stephanie. “Ways COVID-19 Has Changed Friendships.” AARP, 2022. https://www.aarp.org/home-family/ friends-family/info-2022/ways-covid-19-has-changedfriendships.html.

Koenig, Leah. “Making and Maintaining Friendships PostCOVID-19.” Winonan, 2024. https://winonan.org/14413/lifestyle/ making-and-maintaining-friendships-post-covid-19/.

Lee, Eunji. “Bonding Under a Pandemic: Forming and Maintaining Friendships Through Mostly Online Interaction in US Higher Education.” Deep Blue, University of Michigan, 2022. https://deepblue.lib.umich.edu/bitstream/ handle/2027.42/194060/Lee_ THE RISE OF RURALISM: A CASE FOR DECENTRALIZED URBAN CENTERS Words and visuals by Salonee Ghosh Maps by Salonee Ghosh Edited by Jane Cole Bio Salonee Ghosh is an urban designer and alum of the MS. AUD program at Columbia GSAPP. Her experiences living in Mumbai, Bangalore, and New York City have shaped her interest in research and the evolution of dynamic urban centers.

Works Cited Berelowitz, Stephen Blauweiss, and Karen. “IBM, Ulster County’s Largest Employer Came – and Went.” Hudson Valley One, September 4, 2021. https://hudsonvalleyone.com/2021/08/27/ ibm-ulster-countys-largest-employer-came-and-went/.

DiNapoli, Thomas P. “NYC’s Shifting Population: The Latest Statistics.” Office of the New York State Comptroller. https://www. osc.ny.gov/files/reports/osdc/pdf/report-15-2024.pdf. Accessed February 17, 2025.

Gupta, Shivani. “Forced to Leave Home for Job, 50-Yo Creates Employment for 100s in India’s Small Towns.” The Better India, February 28, 2023. https://thebetterindia.com/311715/

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bengaluru-social-impact-startup-mikro-grafeio-createsemployment-in-tier-ii-and-iii-indian-cities/.

“Issues.” Landscape Architecture Foundation, February 13, 2025. https://www.lafoundation.org/issues.

“IBM’s Impact on Kingston and Ulster County.” Omeka RSS. https://omeka.hrvh.org/exhibits/show/kingston-the-ibm-years/ ibm-impact. Accessed February 17, 2025.

Lombard, Hamilton. “Since the Pandemic, Young Adults Have Fueled the Revival of Small Towns and Rural Areas.” Cooper Center, September 17, 2024. https://www.coopercenter.org/ research/young-adults-fuel-revival-small-towns-rural-areas.

Loughead, Katherine. “Americans Moved to Low-Tax States in 2023.” Tax Foundation, September 5, 2024. https:// taxfoundation.org/data/all/state/state-population-change-2023/.

Lueckemeyer, Olivia. “Leaders of Fast-Growing Cities in Kaufman County Lay Groundwork for Rush of Commercial Development.”

Bisnow, April 20, 2022. https://www.bisnow.com/dallas-ft-worth/ news/economic-development/cities-in-fast-growing-kaufmancounty-prepare-to-be-tomorrows-boomtowns-112708.

Richards, Mathew. “Largest Mixed-Use Development in Kaufman History to Break Ground.” inForney.com, October 11, 2022. https://www.inforney.com/business/largest-mixeduse-development-in-kaufman-history-to-break-ground-oct-13features-sportsplex-hotel/article_2b75c3dc-48f0-11ed-94759330803d87b8.html#google_vignette.

Sandhovel, Amelia. “Young Families Have Not Returned to Large Cities Post-Pandemic.” Economic Innovation Group, January 7, 2024. https://eig.org/2023-family-exodus/.

Singh, D. P. Migration in Mumbai: Trends in Fifty Years.

ResearchGate, January 2007. https://www.researchgate.net/ publication/346438710_Migration_in_Mumbai_Trends_in_Fifty_ Years.

“Texas Population Estimates Program.” TDC - 2023 Estimate. https://demographics.texas.gov/Estimates/2023/. Accessed February 17, 2025.

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“2018 Revision of World Urbanization Prospects.” United Nations, May 16, 2018. https://www.un.org/development/desa/ en/news/population/2018-revision-of-world-urbanizationprospects.html.

STREET STYLE: DESIGN NOTES ON THE FUTURE OF FIFTH AVENUE Words and visuals by Ethan Floyd Edited by Jaron Kaplan Bio Ethan Floyd (MSUP ‘24) is a creative urban planner, designer, and writer based in New York City. In addition to his work at Diamond Schmitt and Columbia GSAPP, he enjoys traveling and writing about urban curiosities on his Substack.

Citations

Works Cited Business of Fashion. n.d. “Tiffany & Co.” Accessed March 1, 2024. https://www.businessoffashion.com/organisations/ tiffany-co/#:~:text=With%20more%20than%20300%20 retail,jewelry%2C%20watches%20and%20luxury%20 accessories.

Capote, Truman. Breakfast at Tiffany's: A Short Novel and Three Stories. New York: Modern Library, 1958.

Bio Megan Haralovich is a Master's student in Urban Design with a Bachelor's in Landscape Architecture and Ecology. Her thesis on design explores applying a scientifically grounded approach to create ecological, social, and cultural impacts through speciescentric design, treating humans and non-humans as equal parts of ecosystems. She believes bold, non-human-centric ideas informed by research can drive impactful design solutions for the future of urban environments.

City of New York. 2023. “Mayor Adams Announces Holiday Season Open Streets Boosted Local Businesses by Millions of Dollars in 2022, Advances ‘Future of Fifth’ Permanent Reimagining of Fifth Avenue.” Office of the Mayor, October 10, 2023.

Works Cited Bornschlegl, Sebastian, et al. "Analysis of the Microclimatic and Biodiversity-Enhancing Functions of a Living Wall Prototype for More-than-Human Conviviality in Cities." Buildings 13, no. 6 (2023): 1393.

City of New York. 2024. “Mayor Adams Announces Initial $150 Million Investment in Transformation of Fifth Avenue.” Office of the Mayor, December 8, 2024.

Chen, Chundi, et al. "Walls Offer Potential to Improve Urban Biodiversity." Scientific Reports 10, no. 1 (2020): 9905.

Fifth Avenue Association. n.d. “History.” Accessed March 1, 2024. https://fifthavenue.nyc/history.

Future of Fifth. n.d. “Future of Fifth.” Accessed March 1, 2024. https://futureoffifth.com/.

Gill, John Freeman. 2020. “For Tiffany & Co., a Rooftop Addition Wrapped in Glass.” The New York Times, September 9, 2020. https://www.nytimes.com/2020/08/21/realestate/tiffany-flagshiprooftop-addition-glass.html?searchResultPosition=9.

N.a. 2023. “NYC Mayor Proposes Reimagined Fifth Ave Following Open Street Success.” Construction Specifier, January 23, 2023. https://www.constructionspecifier.com/nycmayor-proposes-reimagined-fifth-ave-following-open-streetsuccess/.

Nevius, James. 2016. “Jane Jacobs, Robert Moses, and the Battle Over LOMEX.” Curbed, May 4, 2016. https://archive. curbed.com/2016/5/4/11505214/jane-jacobs-robert-moseslomex.

‘New’ New York. n.d. “‘New’ New York.” Accessed March 10, 2024. https://newnypanel.com/.

Tiffany & Co. n.d. “Immersive Experiences at The Landmark 5th Ave.” Accessed March 10, 2024. https://www.tiffany.com/stories/ the-landmark-nyc-immersive-experiences/.

Tiffany & Co. n.d. “Retail Experiences at The Landmark 5th Ave.” Accessed March 1, 2024. https://www.tiffany.com/stories/thelandmark-nyc-retail-experiences/.

Vadukul, Alex. 2023. “The New Tiffany, Unboxed.” The New York Times, April 20, 2023. https://www.nytimes.com/2023/04/20/ style/tiffany-fifth-avenue-store.html.

THE FIGHT AGAINST BIODIVERSITY LOSS: BUILDING VERTICAL BIODIVERSITY THROUGH CLIFF ECOSYSTEM HABITAT ANALOGS IN THE URBAN ENVIRONMENT

Covy, Nora, Lauryn Benedict, and William H. Keeley. "Rock Climbing Activity and Physical Habitat Attributes Impact Avian Community Diversity in Cliff Environments." PLoS One 14, no. 1 (2019): e0209557.

Francis, Robert A. "Wall Ecology: A Frontier for Urban Biodiversity and Ecological Engineering." Progress in Physical Geography 35, no. 1 (2011): 43–63.

“Issues.” Landscape Architecture Foundation, February 13, 2025. https://www.lafoundation.org/issues.

Larson, Douglas W., Uta Matthes, and Peter E. Kelly. Cliff Ecology: Pattern and Process in Cliff Ecosystems. January 6, 2000.

Lundholm, Jeremy T., and Ashley Marlin. "Habitat Origins and Microhabitat Preferences of Urban Plant Species." Urban Ecosystems 9 (2006): 139–159.

Lundholm, Jeremy T., and Paul J. Richardson. "Mini-Review: Habitat Analogues for Reconciliation Ecology in Urban and Industrial Environments." Journal of Applied Ecology 47, no. 5 (2010): 966–975.

Pérez-Urrestarazu, Luis, et al. "Vertical Greening Systems and Sustainable Cities." Journal of Urban Technology 22, no. 4 (2015): 65–85.

A MOMENT TO REFLECT: THE FUTURE OF DIVIDED DESIGN Words and visuals by Florentina Anastasia & Kevin Febriansyah Edited by Steven Duncan Bio Florentina is an urban designer and planner in practice and an MSAUD GSAPP alumna, currently exploring writing as an exploration and reflection medium. Her experiences in big cities triggered her curiosity and made her a keen and critical observer of her surroundings – the people, built environment, and policy.

Words and visuals by Megan Haralovich Edited by Otis Emslie

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Citations

Kevin is an architect working at a design firm called PDW Architects in Indonesia. His experience working at a firm specializing in commercial projects has sparked a deep curiosity within him about the progress of human-centered design.

Works Cited Bayona, Delia. “On the Other Side of the Wall of Shame in Lima, Peru.” ArchDaily, August 18, 2022. www.archdaily.com/890132/ on-the-other-side-of-the-wall-of-shame-in-lima-peru.

Flint, Tommy, and Zenobia Gonsalves. “A Perspective on Pamplona Alta (Lima, Peru) - MEDLIFE.” MEDLIFE, July 1, 2011. www.medlifemovement.org/medlife-stories/communityprofiles/6-a-perspective-on-pamplona-alta.

Historia Acm. casuarinas.org/historia.html.

Karoui, Delphine Pagès-El. “Cosmopolitan Dubai: Consumption and Segregation in a Global City.” IMISCOE Research Series, 2021, 69–87. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-67365-9_6.

“Kemang Village - DP Architects.” DP Architects, September 6, 2023. www.dpa.com.sg/projects/kemang-village.

Lefebvre, Henri. The Production of Space. 1974. iberianconnections.yale.edu/wp-content/uploads/2020/04/Theproduction-of-space-by-Henri-Lefebvre-translated-by-DonaldNicholson-Smith.pdf.

“Living and Working in Dubai Statistics 2023 | Teaching Abroad Direct.” www.teachingabroaddirect.co.uk/blog/ living-and-working-in-dubai-statistics#:~:text=As%20 of%202023%2C%20the%20population,area%20of%20 4%2C114%20square%20kilometres.

Mangold, William. “Money-tecture…Or How Architecture Is Exploited by Capitalism.” 2010. www.acsa-arch.org/proceedings/ Annual%20Meeting%20Proceedings/ACSA.AM.99/ACSA. AM.99.10.pdf.

Ngeh, Jonathan. “Living in the Shadows of Dubai.” Developing Economics, December 8, 2021. developingeconomics. org/2021/11/29/living-in-the-shadows-of-dubai.

Pighi, Pierina. “El Polémico Muro Que Separa a Ricos Y Pobres En Lima.” BBC News Mundo, October 22, 2015. www.bbc.com/ mundo/noticias/2015/10/151019_peru_muro_barrio_pobre_rico_ lima_amv.

Robson, David. “Our Fiction Addiction: Why Humans Need Stories.” BBC Culture, February 24, 2022. www.bbc.com/culture/ article/20180503-our-fiction-addiction-why-humans-needstories.

Trengginas, Satrio Sarwo. “Kisah Pemilik Warung Bolong di Kemang: Bisa Kuliahkan Anak Berkat Lubangi Dinding Rumah.”

Tribun Jakarta, November 11, 2020. jakarta.tribunnews. com/2020/11/11/kisah-pemilik-warung-bolong-di-kemang-bisakuliahkan-anak-berkat-lubangi-dinding-rumah?page=all.

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Wiedmann, Florian. Post-Oil Urbanism in the Gulf: Case Study: Kingdom of Bahrain. January 1, 2010. https://doi.org/10.18419/ opus-77.

Winner, Langdon. “Do Artifacts Have Politics?” 1980. faculty. cc.gatech.edu/~beki/cs4001/Winner.pdf.

Zakaria, Hairulloh Rizki. “Menyambangi Warung Nasi Tembok Bolong Dekat Mal Kemang - Forum Keadilan.” Forum Keadilan, February 27, 2023. forumkeadilan.com/2023/02/27/ menyambangi-warung-nasi-tembok-bolong-dekat-mal-kemang.

Credits

DESIGN APPENDIX

EDITORIAL TEAM

Typeface

Senior Editors

Article titles and subtitles are set in Velzyland 84pt and 54pt font, respectively. Subheadings, author credits and biographies are set in the Archivo font family. Pull quotes are set in Acumin Variable Concept Semibold Italic 15pt font. All other body copy uses the Archivo body copy.

Jane Cole, Senior Design Editor Jessica Rose Gonzales, Senior Outreach Editor Jaron Kaplan, Senior Content Editor

Color Theme (Hex) Blue (#7092a6) Purple (#8181af) Orange (#ed4423) Salmon (#d95b42) Charcoal (#3c3f36) Publishing URBAN Magazine Volume 35 was edited and designed by the 2024-25 editorial staff and printed by Columbia University.

Approximately 150 copies were printed.

Junior Editors Anna Carl, Design Wayne Chen, Outreach Steven Duncan, Outreach Otis Emslie, Content and Outreach Jane Hutton, Content Luca Marcelli, Content Olivia McCloy, Content Ayomikun Oluyadi, Design Yerandy Pacheco, Outreach Erma Swartz, Content Benedetta von Palombini, Content Yang “Alyson” Zhou, Content

Photography Unless otherwise noted, all photography included in this issue is taken by authors.

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