From the City Down the Road
I am Writing to you from the tree lined boulevards and café laden streets of Outremount. A place that’s history and present circumstance represents so much of the good and bad in planning. A neighbourhood that was predicated on the spatial and social production of difference, developed to exclude lower social classes of this burgeoning metropolis. Efforts to preserve the social and spatial character of the area were achieved through the appropriation of setbacks, covenants, stringent minimum building sizes, and generous park dedication policies all admittedly plucked from this rich suburbs brother on the other side of the mountain (Westmount). This tale of suburban development, social exclusion, and the manipulation of built form are symptomatic of the era of planning so kindly titled the garden city movement. All the while this form of residential development was steeped in social and ethnic segregation and insidious relationships with actors such as the Roman Catholic Church who profited as the one of the most prominent developers while mixing business, education, and pleasure in a way that can hardly be described as “commun”icative in developing these elitist neighbourhoods.
But in visiting these areas today it is difficult argue with the results. In fostering various scales of spatial difference, a trend that is at the heart of so much of Montréal a beautiful network of neighbourhoods complete with world-class streets has evolved. The sense of place is greater than even Kens disdain for Floridian narratives. The tree-lined boulevards with their omnipresent balconies are the perfect setting for spontaneous social interaction involving everyone from brash bohemians to bodacious baristas/baristos. The cafes serve as the communal living room for the retired mobsters, apathetic undergrads, Hassidic Jews and the greedy Guido’s. This city that is unique with Canada is a place of constant movement and irrefutable energy. The frenetic footsteps of Hassidic Haggett’s are jumping in an out of their supercharged minivans and the myopic Morton's treading on the intersections. Down to the prioritization of the pedestrians, cyclists, and the public realm this city is alive more than any other in Canada. This is not just a heat island of predictable street geometry. This is a city of action more than introversion, complete with flag football and elite hacky-sack tennis enthusiasts.
After surviving 160 km/h in the warzone between Halifax and Montréal I have had much time to ponder the coming weeks, months, and years. Walking the city it is hard not to remain optimistic for our cities. This city simultaneously fosters the creation and preservation existing cultures. Sitting on the edge of mile end, the plateau, and outremount here rambling to the point of reflection I remain optimistic, even though the “Price was wrong” and l’artiste failed to create a masterpiece while I was so ever briefly in his presence. But the city is alive and it has rekindled my appreciation for cities, urbanism, and planning.
This experience has allowed me to look beyond the plan view. In the process reflecting on our tendency to be cynical even though it may be related to an underlying interest in practicality. But I I feel this denial of hope and its requisite forearms is misguided and just as much a manifestation of ego as over the top idealism. It is for this reason that as planners we must ironically float in a place that balances ideals and answers in crafting our conception of the public interest. Allowing us to propose the far-out and innovative ideas that are necessary for us to retrofit our cities. Be it the expropriation of vertical space in the form of building facades to reduce our albedo and create a truly green city or the reform of our institutions, structures, and regulations. Anyway I hope you go the extra mile and find your own stream of urban poetry around Bernard Street.
Peace
Ross
