The chapter, “Collision City and the Politics of ‘Bricolage’”, contained in Rowe and Koetter’s critical exploration of Modernist Utopia in ‘Collage City’, presents an analysis of two antithetic paradigms of city planning: the scientific ‘total design’ or ‘total architecture’ approach and the ad-hoc manner dictated by “bricolage”. This theoretical framework will be applied to the city of Copenhagen and, more specifically, to two of its districts: the old, mediaeval city centre and the new development of Ørestad. The argument unfolds from the direct opposition of the two approaches to urban design which are, subsequently, presented as intrinsic psychological archetypes of urban designers: “… there exists a great chasm between those, on one side, who relate everything to a single central vision, one system less or more coherent or articulate … and, on the other side, those who pursue many ends, often unrelated and even contradictory.” Firstly, the analysis of the “total design” paradigm will be applied to Ørestad and the “bricolage” approach, as introduced by Levi-Strauss and further analysed by Rowe and Koetter, will serve as a basis for the investigation of the mediaeval urban fabric of the city centre. Secondly, as the authors’ argument suggests a middle ground between the two ideological positions as a better solution to city planning, the connection between the two districts will be analysed from this particular perspective. Concerned with utopian architecture as a representation of the perfect society, a strong political emphasis is kept throughout the whole chapter, thus measuring both political drives and outcomes related to the spatial implementation of abstract ideologies. Finally, the political implications of the city planning decisions shall also be discussed, with regard to their contribution towards a more democratic and socially equitable Copenhagen.
The chosen districts shown in the larger Copenhagen context. (based on www.maps.google.com; approximate scale - 1:1.000.000)
The Modernist Utopia asserts the necessity of a total coordinated system as the ultimate solution to the world crisis. It does not accept any compromise concerning an adaptation of the existing, or a multiplicity of scopes. Although heavily criticised, especially in the second part of the 20th century, the modernist approach is still an existent tendency in contemporary architecture. “ … [T]he total design message was not to be repressed. Indeed it was so little repressed that, in the last few years, a newly inspired and wholly literal version of the message was enabled to appear as renditions of the ‘systems’ approach and a variety of other methodological finds.” (Rowe and Koetter, 2001: 96)
Le Corbusier’s Ville Radieuse (1924): a very raionalised grid.
The intention to create a new neighbourhood as a “complete” entity, the effort of urban integration being put solely in the infrastructural system, makes the modernist approach applicable to Ørestad. Located in the South-East of Copenhagen, the area was not part of the postwar city redevelopment “Finger Plan”, consequently remaining by the 1990s a large empty plot of land at the fringes of the city. Economic stagnation, high unemployment rates and city debts in the late 1980s stirred the authority’s interest in new urban strategies that would trigger Copenhagen’s regeneration (Kvorning, 2009). In 1991, the Danish Parliament passed the bill on Øresund Bridge, an expensive and elaborate piece of infrastructure connecting Denmark with the southernmost Swedish region Scania, and, simultaneously, passed the bill on Ørestad’s development (Kvorning, 2009). The act anticipated the high economic potential generated by the new European traffic corridor that the Øresund Bridge would create: “It must be in the national interest to create a competitive centre within the national boundaries and dam a development which might otherwise take place in a strengthened Northern Germany.” (By&Havn, 2010:7) The proposed new neighbourhood’s economic potential was further supported by the intention to build a highly efficient extension to the urban collective transport network, thus not only unlocking land values to finance the infrastructure, but at the same time, maintaining developers’ interest in the area and keeping the land prices high (Kvorning, 2009). The 1992 Ørestad Act stipulated that the master planning and development of the area would go alongside the construction of the new Metro line. Being in charge of the new project’s implementation, the newly found Ørestadsselskabet I/S (Ørestad Development Corporation I/S) organised an international architectural competition by the end of 1994. Though initially four entries were nominated, after public deliberation Finnish practice APRT (Artto Palo Rossi Tikka), which later joined Danish KHR (Krohn Hartvig Rasmussen) to form ARKKI, was appointed to draw the final master plan for Ørestad (By&Havn, 2010).
Diagramatic representation of rationalist features in Orestad Plan.
The winning proposal was particularly appreciated for the strategic division of Ørestad into four smaller districts, disposed from north to south, each of them focusing on a particular programme. The intention was to create a relatively dense building mass, with high-rise constructions placed on green areas enhanced by water canals acting, at the same time, as water reservoirs (By&Havn, 2010). These features would generate a successful branding of the new district, as described in the promotional literature produced by Copenhagen City and Port Development (By&Havn): “Adequate infrastructure, high architectural quality and access to nature would make it attractive for new residents and companies to settle in Ørestad.” (2010: 9) The concept of the master plan seems to follow a modernist pattern, which was, from the beginning, facilitated by the “tabula rasa” premises of the site: a large, empty area at the fringes of the city, with little or no sense of history and without any major topographic features. Ørestad emerged as a solution to a crisis, thus being a promise of a better district, of a better city and ultimately, of a better living, in much the same manner as the modernist ideal, as characterised by Rowe and Koetter: “… in order to avert the economic spoliations of working society, in order to avoid impending doom, the enterprises of mankind must be brought into a closer alignment with the, equally inevitable, forces of blissful destiny” (2001: 94). As efficient transportation was a key consideration of the scheme, the master plan spreads from the central axis represented by the Metro line, which confers a somewhat Cartesian-reminiscent rigidity to the overall grid. The division into four smaller districts (Ørestad Nord, Amager Fælled, Ørestad City and Ørestad Syd), which is considered to have enhanced the master plan, may also be resonant of Euclidian zoning, although mixed use has been reinforced throughout the whole of the neighbourhood. The new district was assuming an economic role by aiming to establish connections with the global network through the appeal to multinational corporations and large retailers (Kvorning, 2009), which, following the zoning, are mostly to be found in Ørestad City. However, not unlike the direct effects of modernist separation, these buildings are highly exclusive, they are self-contained entities that form a collection of architectural objects, rather than a coherent landscape.
Diagrammatic representation of the important water feature in relation to the four smaller zones of Orestad.
“The construction of new, larger neighbourhoods with high development rates represented a completely new task. In Ørestaden, this is reflected in the way the large shopping mall was allowed to turn in an inwards-facing direction, without the slightest attempt to create life in the surrounding streets.” (Kvorning, 2009:187)
Le Corbusier’s Ville Radieuse (1924).
Orestad “central axis”. Credits: Miruna Dunu.
The integration of nature within the built landscape, though necessary for both social comfort and environmental considerations, borrows the modernist view of an engineered, highly controlled nature, where geometry is employed as a tool to establish coherence between natural features and architectural objects: “Seen by us without reference to any other thing, the aspects of Nature seem purely accidental” (Le Corbusier, 1947: 37). Although in Ørestad Nord and Amager Fælled, the water canals follow an organic pattern, in the two southernmost zones they mirror, or are part of, the rigid Cartesian grid. Ørestad was born out of political decision, rather than citizens’ direct action. Equally, it was born out of a need for economic regeneration, rather than an organic necessity for housing or urban sprawl. Such impetuses are apparent in the master plan. Opposed to the single central vision is the ad-hoc pluralism, defined by Levi-Strauss, adopted and further discussed by Rowe and Koetter as “bricolage” (2001:102). The “bricoleur” is the absolute advocate of improvisation, that is to say the production of outputs by means of adjustment and alteration. The employed tools and materials are not chosen specifically for the project, but rather for their immediate availability, hence the asserted ad-hocism of “bricolage”. The mediaeval city centre of Copenhagen illustrates this approach, given its organic development and, throughout time, its compelling need for adaptation. The old city core could be traced back to the 14th century, when Copenhagen was a small, dense, fortified city. The organic pattern, generated by the relatively small plots of land and narrow streets, as well as the apparent hierarchy of functions, from religious and aristocratic edifices, to commercial and residential structures, survives to the present day. Although later additions from Renaissance and Baroque periods followed a different grid and pushed the city walls further out, they have not affected the pre-existing urban fabric (Kvorning, 2009). Construction outside the city walls was not permitted until the mid-19th century and in the early 20th century modernist planning led to new residential developments at the fringes of the city. The lifestyle imposed by this major alteration of urban life, with higher-income citizens inhabiting the suburbs, had a significant impact upon the old core, which was now hosting lower-income residents (Kvorning, 2009).
Plan showing the organic pattern of the mediaeval core.
The pedestrianisation of the Strøget in the 1960s redefined the old city centre and triggered a successful cultural revitalisation (Gehl, 2010). This constant adaptation ensured the mediaeval core’s survival and it is here that the “bricolage” character becomes apparent, for in most cases, it was not a coordinated initiative following a rigid set of principles, but rather small punctual interventions that built upon one another. The pedestrianisation began in 1962 and the beneficial effects that this intervention proved to have, despite initial public distrust, led to the closing of four more streets (Gehl, 2010). The gradual cultural rebranding was fuelled by citizens’ direct contribution: as the city centre became more and more of a leisure and retail district, small businesses flourished and tourism increased, generating a feedback loop for the revitalisation of the area. The ad-hoc approach also applies to the University of Copenhagen campus, which is intertwined within the old city core: “The main building is situated centrally, and spread out around it are schools, colleges, and departments in more than fifty locations that were found as space became needed.” (Gehl, 1987: 105)
Old and new blend together in the mediaeval core. Credits: Miruna Dunu.
This shows a great degree of adaptation, with buildings being converted to an academic programme whenever required, and not rationally planned in advance. Although detrimental to administrative purposes, the current layout contributes greatly to diversity and stimulates activity in the area (Gehl, 1987). Despite being associated with a non-scientific, non-expert approach (Rowe and Koetter, 2001), the “collage” of set-pieces has been a long-standing practice, which offers viable alternatives to rationalist planning. However, in the case of Copenhagen, drawbacks concern the limited palette of programmatic reconversion possibilities and the fixed infrastructural pattern. At a first glance, it may seem inconceivable that the two antithetic planning paradigms, the perfectly coordinated display of the “total design” on one hand, and the heterogeneous nature of the “bricolage” on the other hand, can actually be complementary. In their analytical study, Rowe and Koetter argue that the two paradigms are based on two equal intellectual propensities: “… these two modes of thought are not representatives of a progressive serial (the engineer illustrating a perfection of the “bricoleur” etc.) but … , in fact, they are necessarily coexistent and complementary conditions of the mind.” (2001: 104) Moreover, it may be suggested that a middle-ground between the two approaches holds better prospects for the construction of equitable cities and ultimately, of an equitable future: “Indeed, if we are willing to recognise the methods of science and “bricolage” as concomitant propensities … then, in re-establishing “bricolage” alongside science, it might even be possible that a way for the truly useful future dialectic could be prepared.” (Rowe and Koetter, 2001: 105)
For both paradigms are extreme manifestations of different tendencies: one hosts the inexorable desire of perfect integration within a neutral grid, and the other one, of perpetual adaptation and reinterpretation of elements on an ad-hoc basis. The encompassing of the human habitat, hence the entire society, in one complete, uniform system is both reductionist and physically impossible, thus “the prospects of scientific planning should, in reality, be regarded as equivalent to the prospects of scientific politics” (Rowe and Koetter, 2001:105). Modernist architecture was a tool to force into creation the ideal society, an egalitarian society based on order and the supremacy of the rational. The asserted objective grid had quite the opposite effect, since its ideological and physical boundaries were transposed into social limitations. Despite its claimed neutrality, the intention of the grid is to regulate and control, thus repressing social expression in the favour of autocratic tendencies. The Utopian “democracy” meant the creation of a scientifically driven society, which could only be egalitarian, if we admit that the hierarchy of shapes corresponds to a hierarchy of values, and not one of groups of individuals. This is reflected in planning through the rational order and geometric integrity that lead to an obsessive symmetry. Credits: Miruna Dunu.
Though the characteristics described regard an extreme representation, some of its features are still retrievable in Ørestad. The rigid lining of the streets, Metro line and canals, the proportion and sequence of indoor-outdoor spaces and mostly, the highly controlled development in terms of programmatic layout and socio-economic outcome are reminiscent of the modernist approach to planning. However, in terms of building shapes, the master plan has not been fully complied with: for example, in the southern-most area, the 8-House by Bjarke Ingels Group respects the outlined grid, but does not bear much resemblance to the suggested building footprints. Also, the economic downturn affected the construction of the neighbourhood, leaving large parts of it deserted, thus affecting the perceived coherence of the space. The “bricolage”, in contrast with the modernist “totalitarianism”, might give an indication of “political societies in which political power frequently – and mercifully – changes hands” (Rowe and Koetter, 2001: 94). However, it has been largely associated with a rather populist approach, due to its empiricist nature and lack of coherence. The scarcely coordinated actions and lack of consideration for the future might work as isolated interventions, but by no means could they be employed as strategic praxis. The mediaeval core has not, however, undergone a radical form of “bricolage”. The alteration was not chaotic, but restrained in a sensible manner. In the particular case of the pedestrianisation, the changes were made gradually, initially triggered by the problematic increase in car traffic, and later by the socio-cultural benefits. The pedestrianised Stroget allowed for citizen-driven initiative, development was not controlled, nor imposed, but rather infused and cultivated. The users’ requirements and desires were not asserted, instead they were allowed to develop. Thus, the old city centre may fall under Choay’s typology of “dynamic conservation” (2011: 195), as a result of its long-standing process of negotiation between alteration and preservation.
The opposition of the two paradigms can ultimately be reduced to the negotiation between the integrated totality and the segregated fractions. As suggested before, an equilibrium between the two radical states might “serve as a protective membrane between the individual and the form of collective authority.” (Rowe and Koetter, 2001: 116), thus setting the premise of not so much a “free” society, but of a liberal one. The propensities for both integration and segregation are equally inevitable, and city planning and urban design cannot but reflect this as an axiom of the social fabric. In his analysis of integration and segregation in urban strategies, Jan Gehl argues that the two do not reside in, and certainly are not reduced to, the proximity of different buildings, functions and services in planning drawings, instead “the actual integration of various events and people on the very small scale determines whether the contact surface is monotonous or interesting … whether the people who work and live in the different buildings use the same public spaces and meet in connection with daily activities.” (Gehl, 1987: 103). It is a balance between intimacy and proximity, between monofunctional and diverse that sets the basis for an equitable city.
Le Corbusier’s Plan Voisin (1922-25).
Orestad and the impact of global economy. Credits: Miruna Dunu.
Utopia, as a visionary system of political and social perfection, is a theoretical concept. The Modernist Utopia in particular was a product encompassing the Illuminist ideal of a rational society, the Darwinist view upon the evolution of species and the capitalist philosophy of Karl Marx (Rowe and Koetter, 2001). In his analysis of utopias in relation to architecture, Nathaniel Coleman argues that “utopias propose, even if on a limited scale, a basic transformation of some part of the human condition. Some is crucial, which is why sociologist Karl Mannheim argued that relative utopias could be realisable whereas absolute ones are not” (2005: 24). Modernism aimed at a radical transformation of the whole society, at an unprecedented scale. It merely projected a social ideal upon reality, without considering basic aspects of the human condition. Consequently, its effects were opposed to the one initially desired: the intention to create fluency generated appalling separation, the strive to create a neutral environment resulted in a highly controlled habitat. Despite the acknowledged negative impacts of modernist planning, its features, as Rowe and Koetter argue, continue to inspire designers: “… the bias which the architect has inherited from long indulgence of total design fantasies tends to make him incapable of following through to where such alternative positions might lead” (2001: 115). In the specific case of Ørestad, although the modernist inspiration is apparent, efforts to minimise separation and rationalisation have been undertaken, through the incorporation of features that stimulate diversity. In contrast, the mediaeval city centre by applying a different strategy stimulates its vitality through the preservation of diversity. Thus, the adequately employed “bricolage” approach implies a more democratic attitude towards city planning.
In conclusion, it was argued that the popularity of the old city centre and the relative success of Ă˜restad are due to a moderate implementation of the two polar extremes of urban design. Both districts combine, in different proportions, the controlled production of space with the empirical creation of it. This ultimately expresses a certain political equilibrium that is, or at the very least should be, characteristic of any democratic society.
Plan Voisin, an intervention within the old urban fabric of Paris.
References and Bibliography Brooks, R. and Dunn, N. (2011) Urban maps: instruments of narrative and intrpretation in the city. Farnham: Ashgate. Choay, F. (2011) For an anthropology of space. Bucharest: Romanian Board of Urban Planners. Coleman, N. (2005) Utopias and Architecture. London: Routledge. Gehl, J. (1987) Life between buildings: using public space. New York; Wokingham: Van Nostrand Reinhold. Gehl, J. (2010) Cities for people. Washington: Island Press. Kvorning, J. (2009) ‘Copenhagen Restructured.’ In Kees, C. (ed.) Urban Reports. Zurich : Gta Verlag, pp. 175-195. Le Corbusier, Ch. (1947) The city of tomorrow and its planning. London: Architectural Press. Rowe, C. and Koetter, F., (2001) Collage City. London: MIT Press.
Online resources: By&Havn (2010) Copenhagen growing. Unknown place of publication: By&Havn. [Online] [Accessed on 7th April 2013] Available from: http://www.orestad.dk/en/Fakta/ Bogen+Godt+Begyndt.aspx Le Corbusier, Ch. (1925) Ville Radieuse. [Online Image] [9th April 2013] http://www.cityofsound.com/photos/uncategorized/aula8.jpg Le Corbusier, Ch. (1925) Ville Radieuse. [Online Image] [9th April 2013] http://www.willofmemory.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/06/39-vradieuse-copy-2.jpg Le Corbusier, Ch. (1925) Plan Voisin. [Online Image] [10th April 2013] http://ad009cdnb.archdaily.net/wp-content/uploa ds/2009/02/456025620_3297464226-29f989ca28-o-528x390.jpg Le Corbusier, Ch. (1925) Plan Voisin. [Online Image] [10th April 2013] http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8343/8172102701_5c1452bf46_c.jpg