The nature of urbanism

Architectural Review, The, July, 1995 by Virendra Sahai

Using the city of Prague as an example, Virendra Sahai presents an illustrated analysis of the constituents of urbanism and how these combine to generate visual and experiential delight.

Cities are always changing. If they cannot be adapted to the needs of the times, they decline. In recent years some people have even suggested that they have outlived their usefulness. Yet, the present day interest in conservation, not of some significant buildings only but of whole areas, is more than just a reflection of our interest in history. It reminds us that certain ways of grouping buildings and the resulting configuration contribute to our enjoyment of the places in which we gather and conduct our daily business.

A study of some of the most admired public places in the world suggests that for the appreciation and enjoyment of places, the styles of architecture and the grandeur of surrounding buildings are less important than their skilful positioning. In many instances of successful urban spaces, Piazza S Marco being a notable example, the surrounding buildings cannot be described as places of great architecture; indeed they are often quite modest buildings - it is their relation to one another which is the important factor. As social animals, our innate response to physical surroundings, man-made or otherwise, depends upon the degree of protection and the character of the enclosure they provide. The village and the town provide contrasting types of open spaces. In the former, nature remains the dominant element, whereas in the latter, structures dominate and surround the open space. From earliest times the townspace has been distinguished from the village by the clarity of its definition and containment by identifiable edges. The village green by contrast has remained an amorphous space. Thus it is the enclosure of space, wholly or partially, that transforms it into a 'place' with different qualities. The creation of public places is the essence of urbanism, and the success or otherwise of these places surrounded by buildings has depended largely upon whether they offered a sheltered environment for human interaction.

Traditional views about the nature of human habitations and the arrangement of spaces have been fundamentally affected by our abhorrence of slums which resulted from early industrialisation. Soon after the publication of Garden Cities of Tomorrow (1902), the prospect of personalised motor transport engendered such concepts as La Ville Radieuse and the Broadacre City. Whether one looks at Brasilia or Chandigarh or at Milton Keynes or Croydon, one can trace back the imagery to these seminal concepts. The shape of twentieth-century cities and developments within them can be said to have been formed by the ideas of Ebenezer Howard, Le Corbusier and Mies van der Rohe, or to a lesser extent by those of Frank Lloyd Wright. Free-standing buildings surrounded by open spaces became the ideal to aim for. But, in the process of ensuring adequate daylight, fresh air and improved mobility, we lost something that had made cities attractive places in which to be. In the past 50 years there has been considerable debate about the interaction between different types of land use and movement of traffic, but scant attention has been paid to the totality of the resulting environment. It is this totality that affects the human response to manmade surroundings which is the subject of this article.

Free-standing buildings, however elegant, do not offer adequate protection for the creation of places where people may gather in comfort. More often than not, present-day arrangements of detached individual buildings generate a windswept micro-climate not conducive for such gatherings; in a rare instance, such as Centre Pompidou, a building may be so large that, given the right orientation, it may form a back-cloth on its own to provide a gathering space in front.

It can be argued that, in an age of electronic transfer of information, people no longer need to get together to transact business. This may well be so, but it overlooks one of the basic human needs - the need to get together with others for pleasure as well as business. One of the age-old functions of the city has been to create places which offer opportunity for chance meetings in addition to those required for formalised civic or religious functions.

This illustrated essay, using Prague as an exemplar, is an attempt to encourage a debate as to how we might again create urban spaces which are places of enjoyment and visual delight. In the process, it will also suggest how we might retain the character of historic places while letting them develop for present day needs. A city must be seen as a living organism, not as a museum.

Symbols and skyline

Prague has been a seat of ecclesiastical or political power, or both, since the fourteenth century. This is reflected in the many buildings of different periods and styles that make up the fabric of the city's rich tapestry. In this view, St Vitus' Cathedral (begun in 1344) now within the Castle precinct is seen dominating the city beyond its other famous landmark - the Charles Bridge (begun in 1357). In almost all cultures, skyline features are given or acquire symbolic significance. They also help provide a sense of orientation and location so necessary in any town or city. Their siting, therefore, needs to be carefully considered not only individually but also in relation to one another in order to avoid confusion by a multiplicity of messages.