Opinion
Spatial Relations
Last week, city council candidate, Iraq vet, and homeless advocate Dorsol Plants played Joan Rivers to regular Cola columnist Dan Bertolet’s Johnny Carson. Dan's on summer vacation for a few more days, so we’ve lined up another guest host, a city council candidate from long ago—Grant “Folk Rock“ Cogswell.
For 60,000 years, cities were built the same way—by measure of hand and foot, for the body and the brood. The Romans organized a city for an open plain: fast-forward to the opening of half a world: populated, but easy to enslave (South) or move and exterminate (North).
For us, this was recently vacated "wilderness"; Latin America squeezed into a full house. The automobile then, and status of last power standing. The vets, the children of immigrants, huddled in cities, saw freedom "out there." What roads were built to—went up. There was shelter in lostness, in movement, the TV glazing it with oblivion. We grew up in that.
Mexico City—or rather, short for Distrito Federal, "D.F.," (day effay)—is nothing like it. Even its new and wealthy, outlying districts face onto themselves. In L.A. the old residents bemoan Mexicanos’ dragging life into the street. Madrid in the 16th, 17th century centro (street vending banned and furtive since maxi-billionaire Carlos Slim bought up the ancient hulks); Paris in the outer boroughs from before the revolution; and beyond, in the busy streets that hug the rail lines or the little mercados that circle the stops for many buses. Low-rise, high altitude, and 90 percent of the population gets around on foot or transit. In a huddle of twenty-some million people, activity—commerce, play, cuisine, waiting (a moment, long enough just to buy a paper or sopes because it is never more than five minutes’ wait for a bus)—life is everywhere. Even the air is cleaner now.
The way of city living in Seattle is based on insulation: space, then wealth, then technology (the car) afforded. The urban landscape here is forbiddingly empty, and dull. Soon we will hustle for every dollar like the residents of D.F. do. We will be creative with that dead space, and the extra space in our homes, our parking lots.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been poor too long to think it’s any fun. But Seattle might be creative and communitarian enough–taking its cue from Pike Place Market (imagine an entire city like the Market! That’s D.F.)—to make this nightmare of a downturn into opportunity.
Cogswell's first Cola installment is here.
For 60,000 years, cities were built the same way—by measure of hand and foot, for the body and the brood. The Romans organized a city for an open plain: fast-forward to the opening of half a world: populated, but easy to enslave (South) or move and exterminate (North).
For us, this was recently vacated "wilderness"; Latin America squeezed into a full house. The automobile then, and status of last power standing. The vets, the children of immigrants, huddled in cities, saw freedom "out there." What roads were built to—went up. There was shelter in lostness, in movement, the TV glazing it with oblivion. We grew up in that.
Mexico City—or rather, short for Distrito Federal, "D.F.," (day effay)—is nothing like it. Even its new and wealthy, outlying districts face onto themselves. In L.A. the old residents bemoan Mexicanos’ dragging life into the street. Madrid in the 16th, 17th century centro (street vending banned and furtive since maxi-billionaire Carlos Slim bought up the ancient hulks); Paris in the outer boroughs from before the revolution; and beyond, in the busy streets that hug the rail lines or the little mercados that circle the stops for many buses. Low-rise, high altitude, and 90 percent of the population gets around on foot or transit. In a huddle of twenty-some million people, activity—commerce, play, cuisine, waiting (a moment, long enough just to buy a paper or sopes because it is never more than five minutes’ wait for a bus)—life is everywhere. Even the air is cleaner now.
The way of city living in Seattle is based on insulation: space, then wealth, then technology (the car) afforded. The urban landscape here is forbiddingly empty, and dull. Soon we will hustle for every dollar like the residents of D.F. do. We will be creative with that dead space, and the extra space in our homes, our parking lots.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been poor too long to think it’s any fun. But Seattle might be creative and communitarian enough–taking its cue from Pike Place Market (imagine an entire city like the Market! That’s D.F.)—to make this nightmare of a downturn into opportunity.
Cogswell's first Cola installment is here.
