The Green Grid

We have been doing some research into the way that Cardiff can be read as a city. Our thesis is that the park sof Cardiff are it's key characteristic, and can therefore be used as the structuring element that can organise the whole.

We propose that the main "anchoring" parks of Cardiff can become the attractors at the ends of green fingers that stretch out into the suburbs and beyond. Where an anchoring park is missing, then current landfill sites can be re-imagined as the new urban parks that perform the anchoring role that the great Victorian parks do elsewhere.

These green fingers are mostly already in-situ, and the axial (from outside to centre) connections are strong. Where the connectivity of this network fails is in the radial (radiating out from the centre) direction. The green grid needs to be augmented by creating links, joining pocket parks, greening previously derelict or brownfield land.

This green grid of connected parkland and found green space conveniently forms a new transport grid overlaid over the old and defunct road system, but luckily just for bikes and pedestrians. Here is our initial proposal which comes with a healthy debt of respect to Dr Beehooving at CycleSpace, of course, who is the pre-eminent expert in the field.

Presented at the Welsh School of Architecture, Post-Industrial Seminar, November 2011.

Parks of the Forgotten Land

View more presentations from Toby Adam

There is no School Like the Old School

We made a trip to St Fagan's recently - the Museum of Welsh Life in Cardiff which is one of the most popular open-air museums in Europe.

This building is an old barn where the columns are made of solid massive slabs of slate, and the rear building is made of small pieces of slate laid horizontally like a dry stone wall.

For some reason, this is utterly appealing to architects. Perhaps it is the reassuring idea that the concept of modernism is completely encapsulated by a medieval barn, and is therefore less scary than the rantings of that madman Le Corbusier. In a survey*, the vast majority of architects asked about their favourite building at St Fagan's chose this one. I'm sure there is an essay there somewhere.

*we asked at least 3.

For those bike fans out there, do not fret. Here is a classic cargo bike I found hiding under a pile of tin baths and buckets in the shop that is part of the village grouping at the museum. It should be centre stage, and probably is an a parallel universe where people are sensible and value bikes not buckets. Again, an essay beckons...

Car Day

This post is in homage to Dave Warnock who has just achieved the milestone of cycling everyday for one year, and whose regular comparisons of his travel experiences cycling and driving are always a good read.

I had a meeting in Swansea last week, for which I had to take the car (issues of meeting clashes and giving lifts to colleagues). On my return, I was able to park in the office car park in the centre of town. I then had to pick up No.1 son from his nursery – barely half a mile away and approximately 7 minutes by bike, whatever the traffic – at the end of the day. I was careful and left a bit of extra time – leaving about 25 minutes for a journey you can walk in about 10. However, I was totally flummoxed by the sheer volume of traffic and so at 10 minutes to six (six is the dreaded cut-off time – otherwise you get fined), I had to ring my partner and beg her to jump on her bike and dash to the nursery as I didn’t think I was going to make it. In the end, she beat me by about 1 minute and I arrived at about 30 seconds to six. She travelled easily twice the distance I had to. I normally arrive to collect my son cheerful, and full of fresh air. This time I arrived completely stressed, panicking and frustrated.

I had time (unfortunately) whilst sitting in a solid jam of cars to reflect on the advertising method of promoting cars as tools of freedom, choice and practicality. Those advertising gurus must be geniuses to have conned so many into believing it. Can you imagine my frustration at being 500yds away from my boy, but with no way to get there and no alternative but to sit it out? If I have to take my car again, I’ll chuck the Brompton in the boot and use that at the end of the day – the car can stay in the car park.

I’m beginning to resent the gas-guzzling, money draining, time wasting appendage outside. But will we have the guts to get rid of it? To be honest, I doubt it. Until transport thinking catches up with the unarticulated desires of (I believe) many people, and starts considering genuine alternatives, once again that is a choice our addiction to the motor car has denied me rather than enabled - the choice to do without.

Gerhard Richter, Panorama

I was fortunate the other day to be able to visit the Tate Modern in London whilst in the big smoke for a meeting just around the corner.  I was particularly keen to visit, following a review I heard on BBC R4 about the exhibition currently showing the work of Gerhard Richter. I was not dissappointed, and neither was I alone - this proved to be a very popular attraction.

The paintings are a mix of very abstract and very figurative, but alway showing a quite phenomenal understanding of the nature both of paint as a material in itself, but also of the materials being depicted. The very abstract images were interesting, particularly the random colour squares, which your brain is desperate to interpret as a pixelated image. However, there is no hidden image to comprehend and the sense of disorientation is palpable.

I also enjoyed the photographs that have been painted over, blurred and distorted. It is as if they are rushing across the wall, and have just been caught in the exact moment they passed behind the frame - never quite in focus. Their fleeting presence is full of motion and disturbance. It seems as they will be lost again at any moment. There are some hugh images of clouds which you can't quite believe are paintings - the luminosity of the clouds is beautiful and the wispiness of the edges is perfect. But for all the realism, they are scale-less, without romanticism and quite unsettling.

Amongst the very abstract "squeegee" images are some smaller, almost photorealistic, paintings that are remarkable in their sense of materiality. One image - "Betty" is of a girl (Richter's daughter) viewed from behind, her face just turned away. She is wearing a fleece-like jumper that so captures the material you can almost feel it between your fingers. People peer closely at the painting, unable to believe it is made just of paint. There is also an image of a burning candle - a traditional study in play of light - where the sensation of glowing hot wax at the tip of the candle is incredible.

My personal favourite is the huge canvas of paris, which up close appears to be an abstracted jumble of brush strokes and paint texture. Step away, and the discernable shapes of Hausmann's Avenues begin to appear. Step away further and the buildings appear to be in ruinous, post-blitz state, bombed into broken carcasses.

I've heard Richter described as the greatest painter alive. I am in no way qualified to comment on that, but you leave the Tate thinking it is a very believable statement.

Gerhard Richter, Panorama. Tate Modern 6th October 2011  - 8th January 2012. Tickets required.

Conference Lecture

I am hoping to be chosen to speak at a small local conference event in Cardiff, which is an opportunity for transport experts to discuss sustainable transportation and the ways that infrastructure can be used to promote better development.

I am hoping to present a paper highlighting the ways that cycle infrastructure could be used to improve the quality of the environment, help create pleasant spaces, improve access to services and connect and create more valuable development, I also want to highlight the economic benefits of encouraging cycling (and cyclists).

Here is a copy of the extract - any ideas for my presentation would be gratefully received (full acknowledgment available, obviously...)

Ignoring the HGV in our Collective China Shop

With apologies to Copenhagenize.

The recent spate of tragic deaths caused by HGVs (and one very lucky escape) seems to highlight an absolute denial amongst many people to consider questioning either;

(a) Why are gigantic powerful vehicles where the driver cannot see the first 3m in front of them (amongst other blind spots) are allowed to freely navigate their way around our cities, or;

(b) Why can't these huge lumbering death traps be designed so that they are not quite so deadly for those unlucky enough to be within a few meters of them.

Stuff doesn't have to the way it is now. HGV cabs could look different. Roads could look different. We are allowed to change things.

By the way, the poster below is not a design solution. It barely qualifies as a sticking plaster (produced by the Road Haulage Association - standard victim-blaming technology):



Label to be added to the backs of HGVs

In the 1920's, gut wrenching and visceral campaigns were run by organisations seeking to try and tame the deadly rise of the motor car in cities. Shocking images were used to portray the trail of destruction that the new-fangled motor car was leaving, particularly amongst the young. It very nearly broke the car industry, who survived in part by becoming heavily involved in safety campaigning themselves and changing the focus by blaming instead the children who were playing in the streets. The ancestors of this paradigm are posters like the one above. However, things are different today and an all-out assault on the government focusing on the unimaginable horror of being crushed by an lorry might prove more fruitful. How tragic that even thinking that way should be required at all.

Inflation in the Oddest Places

This is concrete (chocolate) proof that inflation has gone through the roof. This is chocolate money, which I'm pretty sure only came in coin form when I were a lad. Imagine my apoplectic rage on discovering that chocolate money now includes notes as well as coins! Up to £50 ones for goodness sake!

No doubt next time I buy some, I'll end up carrying it home in a wheelbarrow. Whatever next.