Arbutus wildway thesis by Tamara Bonnemaison

ARBUTUS WILDWAY DESIGNED LOOSENESS AND POSSIBILITY

Tamara Bonnemaison Supervisor: Susan Herrington Committee: Cynthia Girling April 27, 2017 Submitted in partial fulfillment for the Master of Landscape Architecture, School of Architecture and Landscape Architecture, University of British Columbia.

ABSTRACT

Vancouver’s Arbutus Corridor is what one may call a ‘loose space’. It has had an ambiguous purpose and future for nearly two decades, and over that time period, enterprising urban pioneers have engaged creatively with the space, overlaying it with their own programs and ecologies. The lack of oversight over the Corridor has resulted in a place that is quite different from the rest of the city. Whereas much of the city is already allocated to a particular use that precludes thinking creatively about what else could be on the site, the Corridor presents itself as a blank canvas upon which anyone can become excited about the future possibilities that it holds. This graduate project looks at how design can allow more people to use the Arbutus Corridor, while enhancing, its sense of looseness and possibility.

Fig. 1:

GARDENS ON THE CORRIDOR

Community gardeners have appropriated the ambiguous spaces created when the rail line running along the Arbutus Corridor stopped operating. (Image Credit Tamara Bonnemaison)

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

ABSTRACT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ii PROBLEM STATEMENT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 A LOOSE SITE 1 PROGRAM + LOOSENESS 2 A CREATIVE CORRIDOR . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3 WHAT IS LOOSE SPACE? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9 AFFORDANCE 12 CHILDREN 13 CREATIVITY 13 MARGINALIZED ACTIVITY 14 FEAR AND RISK 16 THE ECOLOGY OF LOOSE SPACE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17 COMMON NATURE 17 DESIGN + LOOSENESS: CAN THEY CO-EXIST? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19 PRECEDENT: TEMPORALITY AND PROCESS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23 PRECEDENT: ART + PLACEMAKING . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25 PRECEDENT: TEMPORALITY + ENGAGEMENT . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29 THE ARBUTUS CORRIDOR . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31 COMMUNITY GARDENS 32 TRANSPORTATION 33 OWNERSHIP STRUGGLE 34 CITY PURCHASE 35 PATH STRUGGLE 35 TEMPORARY PATH 37 FUTURE 38 BASE MAPS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 39 NEIGHBOURHOOD CHARACTER . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47 GRAVEL STUDIO 49 ART GARDEN 50 FOREST SCHOOL 51 IVY MECHANIC 52 BEE MEADOW 53 HOPS OVERLOOK 54 BLACKBERRY BOULEVARD 55 TRELLIS WALK 56 COMMUNITY BACKYARD 57 COYOTE HIGHWAY 58

LOOSE USES OF THE CORRIDOR . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59 OBSERVED USES 59 SOCIAL MEDIA 61 LOOSE ECOLOGY OF THE CORRIDOR . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 63 PLANT SPECIES 63 WILDLIFE 66 PLANT COMMUNITY MAPS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67 BARE GROUND or GRAVEL 68 URBAN MEADOW 69 COMMUNITY GARDEN 70 LAWN, WETLAND 71 MANAGED HEDGE or TREES 72 MIXED SHRUB 73 PAVED 74 PIONEER FOREST 75 RAIL BED MEADOW 76 BLACKBERRY THICKET 77 MOBILITY AND LOOSE SPACE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 79 DESIGNING THE FRAMEWORK . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 83 FRAMING THE SOCIAL NETWORK 86 DETAILED DESIGN: BEE MEADOW . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 95 BEE MEADOW HUB 98 DETAILED DESIGN: HOPS OVERLOOK . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 103 VIEWING FRAMES AND GATEWAYS 103 GATEWAYS FOR BIRDS 107 VIEWING FRAME HABITAT 107 SOUTH COAST CONSERVATION HUB 112 CONCLUSION: SPACES OF POSSIBILITY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 113 WORKS CITED . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 115

LIST OF FIGURES

Fig. 1: Fig. 2: Fig. 3: Fig. 4: Fig. 5: Fig. 6: Fig. 7: Fig. 8: Fig. 9: Fig. 10: Fig. 11: Fig. 12: Fig. 13: Fig. 14: Fig. 15: Fig. 16: Fig. 17: Fig. 18: Fig. 19: Fig. 20: Fig. 21: Fig. 22: Fig. 23: Fig. 24: Fig. 25: Fig. 26: Fig. 27: Fig. 28: Fig. 29: Fig. 30: Fig. 31: Fig. 32: Fig. 33: Fig. 34: Fig. 35: Fig. 36: Fig. 37: Fig. 38: Fig. 39: Fig. 40: Fig. 41: Fig. 42: Fig. 43: Fig. 44:

GARDENS ON THE CORRIDORGARDENS ON THE CORRIDOR ACTS OF APPROPRIATION GUERRILLA GARDEN GARDEN LOVE #OURBUTUS ARBUTUS GREENWAY APPROPRIATED PATIO SPACE TEMPORALITY OF LOOSENESS LOOSE PLANTS LOOSEN UP OUR PARKS TREES OF MILLENNIUM PARK REPRESENTING CHANGE THE ARTERY COLLABORATIVE ART SMALL ACTS OF ART STAGES RECYCLED BENCH RECYCLED BLEACHERS RECYCLED STAGE RECYCLED PATH PARTICIPATORY DESIGN FRAMEWORK FOR USE MOVABLE PLANTINGS TEMPORARY GARDENS TEMPORARY PATH DESIGN QUILCHENA CRESCENT LOCATION OF THE CORRIDOR CONNECTIONS CHARACTER ZONES OBSERVED USES COMMON PLANT SPECIES SEMI-COMMON PLANT SPECIES UNCOMMON PLANT SPECIES ANIMALS Solidago canadensis BARE GROUND AND GRAVEL URBAN MEADOW COMMUNITY GARDENS LAWN, WETLAND AND WATER MANAGED HEDGE MIXED SHRUB PAVED PIONEER FOREST RAIL BED MEADOW

ii 3 4 5 5 8 10 12 13 17 24 24 25 26 26 27 28 28 28 28 29 30 30 30 37 38 39 46 47 60 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76

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BLACKBERRY THICKET transit on the corridor EXPANDING MOBILITY SPACE ROUTING STREETCAR AND CYCLE LANES STEEL FRAMES FORMAL SYSTEM PURPOSE OF THE FRAMES FIXED FRAMES IN A CHANGING LANDSCAPE SOCIAL SPACES GRAVEL STUDIO IVY MECHANIC BEE MEADOW HOPS OVERLOOK BLACKBERRY BOULEVARD TRELLIS WALK SUNFLOWER PASSAGE COMMUNITY BACKYARD PLAN OF BEE MEADOW FRAMES URBAN MEADOW BEE MEADOW FRAMES RENDERED PLAN OF BEE MEADOW BEE MEADOW PLOT DIVIDERS RENDERED PLAN OF BEE MEADOW HUB CANOPY FRAMES PERSPECTIVES OF BEE MEADOW frames and gateways urban wilderness plan of hops overlook gateway bird habitat PLANT VIEWING FRAME INSECT VIEWING FRAME BAT VIEWING FRAME summer solstice at the overlook south coast conservation hub ROOM FOR PEOPLE AND WILDLIFE empty spaces

77 79 80 81 83 84 85 85 86 87 87 89 89 91 91 93 93 95 96 97 98 98 100 100 102 103 104 106 107 108 108 109 110 112 112 114

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PROBLEM STATEMENT Cities can be thought of as ‘tight’ places. Most urban spaces are owned, planned, and subject to rules and expectations. This is generally a good thing. Because of our careful planning and design, we have clean water, safe places to live, transportation networks, and beautiful parks. The ‘tightness’ of most spaces in cities, however, provides few opportunities for change, for appropriation, or for imagining what could be, rather than what is. Within and between the tightly-controlled spaces of a city are what we might call “loose spaces” (Franck and Stevens 2007). These are spaces that fall outside of the normal processes of the city. They are often officially forgotten, but are not necessarily unused. Loose spaces tend to get appropriated for uses that don’t have another place in the city. Urban pioneering plants, animals, and people find creative ways of inhabiting these spaces. The novel ecosystems and social practices that form on loose spaces provide something meaningful to the city. They are places of experimentation. They are places where people can make their mark on the city and engage with the landscape in creative and fulfilling ways. They are places where natural processes can begin to restore the ecological health of the city. Above all, loose spaces are open to countless interpretations and imaginings of what is possible within the city.

The landscape architect is often in direct opposition to loose space. While loose space does not have a fixed purpose, landscape architects are usually tasked with making a site useful, and in doing so destroy the sense of vagueness and possibility of that site (Kullman 2014). Despite this traditional opposition, the landscape architect also has skills that can ameliorate the negative aspects of loose space. Landscape architects have the skills to make loose spaces feel safer and more aesthetically pleasing, and to mediate between loose sites and the surrounding, tight city. This graduate project explores ways that the landscape architect can add program and usefulness to a site, while maintaining openness and opportunity.

A LOOSE SITE The Arbutus Corridor is one of Vancouver’s most loved ‘loose spaces’. Novel plant communities and barely-sanctioned social uses occupy the entire length of the Corridor. It has had an ambiguous purpose and future for nearly two decades, and over that time period, enterprising urban pioneers have engaged creatively with the space, gardening, fort building, harvesting blackberries, and generating art. The lack of oversight over the Corridor has resulted in a place that is quite different from the rest of the city. Whereas much of the city is already allocated to a partic-

ular use that precludes thinking creatively about what else could be on the site, the Corridor presents itself as a blank canvas upon which anyone can become excited about the future possibilities that it holds. One of the most compelling arguments for maintaining the Arbutus Corridor as a ‘loose space’ is the diversity of passionate opinion about what should become of the Corridor in the near future. Social media sites are full of suggestions for the space, ranging from Accessible paths to Zip-line parks and nearly everything in between. Ironically, should any of these visions be implemented, the sense of possibility that makes the Corridor so generative of creative ideas would be lost.

PROGRAM + LOOSENESS As a 10km long open public space within a densifying city, the Arbutus Corridor will need to be able to fulfill many roles and provide space for many people. The challenge of this graduate projects lies in the ability to combine active programmatic elements while enhancing the Corridor’s looseness and possibility. The resulting design, the ‘Arbutus Wildway’, will represent the culmination of these efforts.

Whether we like it or not, however, the Arbutus Corridor is about to become ‘tighter’. The City of Vancouver has purchased the space, and the actual opportunity to make it available to a greater number of users is too great to pass up for the sake of maintaining its potential. This graduate project wrestles with the balance between maintaining the current looseness and openness of the site, and overlaying the Corridor with a program that can make it more useful and appealing to a greater number of users.

A CREATIVE CORRIDOR The Arbutus Corridor is a former railway corridor that transects the city of Vancouver. Disused since 2001, the Corridor has become a space that is quite distinct from any of the areas that surround it. As the Arbutus Corridor passes through different types of neighbourhoods on its east-west journey through the city, it reacts to each neighbourhood, while remaining a separate, special place. The Arbutus Corridor possesses a certain magic. It is both neglected and highly used. It is a space that is intensely loved, and that also generates excitement about how it could be changed. It is a space that is intimately known to some, but that has been inaccessible to many. The ambiguity of purpose and ownership on the Arbutus Corridor has prompted people – and other living beings – to find their own uses for it. Walking along the Corridor, it is evident that many people have modified the space to make it suitable for a range of uses. Strangely-orchestrated gardens, remnants of forts, neatly-arranged patio tables, whimsical acts of art, and the detritus of illicit activity point to some of the ways that people have appropriated the Corridor. This ability to alter public space, to make it one’s own, even for a brief period of time, is unusual in Vancouver’s polished urban environment. A growing body of literature describes the Fig. 2:

ACTS OF APPROPRIATION

Acts of appropriation and creativity found along the Arbutus Corridor include the creation of forts and hideouts, artwork and signs, benches and gardens, and stored and forgotten goods.

many varied ways that people appropriate public open space for their own needs. Vacant lots, ruins, and leftover spaces, often perceived as empty, useless spaces by designers, are turned into “accidental playgrounds” for the city’s inhabitants (Shaw and Hudson 2009; Campo 2013; Franck and Stevens 2007). These ‘loose spaces’ fall outside of the tightly controlled, planned city, and offer an alternative mode of inhabiting public space (Schneekloth 2007). Rather than representing a fixed, finished landscape, loose spaces remain open to interpretation, and offer endless future possibilities (Kullman 2014). Loose spaces such as the Arbutus Corridor have the potential to promote diversity, engagement, and spontaneity in the city, and deserve to be considered as valuable additions to our cities (Kullman 2014).

desire the ability to make a physical impression on the world around them. Those lucky enough to have their own yard in the city often express themselves creatively through gardening and ornamentation. Where people do not have access to private outdoor space, they make do in other ways. They find loose spaces where they can yarn bomb, spray graffiti, make art, guerrilla garden, and organize temporary festivals. They find disused railway corridors that they can garden and shape to their liking. These acts of shaping space not only alter the physical space; they alter people’s relationship to the urban environment.

Whether in Vancouver or other western cities, public spaces are seldom designed to provide for the creative needs of their inhabitants. Plazas, parks, even playgrounds, are designed to be seen and consumed, rather than to be touched or manipulated (Jorgenson and Keenan 2012). Yet people are creative creatures. They enjoy building, reorganizing, reconfiguring, and re-imagining the world to suit their own needs and wishes (Campo 2013). Wherever one looks, one can see evidence that people

Fig. 3:

GUERRILLA GARDEN

A guerrilla gardener is tending to petunias on a patch of the Arbutus Corridor surrounded by commercial development in Kerrisdale.

By creatively engaging with the Arbutus Corridor, people became deeply attached to it and to the communities that were created in the process. The impact that the Arbutus Corridor has on people’s lives is made evident by the posters, videos, and blogposts created in response to CP Rail’s bulldozing of some community gardens on the Corridor in 2014. For example, the Arbutus Victory Gardeners created a poster explaining why their gardens were valuable (Arbutus Victory Gardens 2014). These gardeners wrote that the “gardens are efforts of beauty that bring solace and joy not only to the gardeners, but also to the residents for miles along this greenway”, and that “our garden links us to community and makes us want to stay (in Vancouver). It’s a place of refuge, of bounty, of productivity, of community” (ibid). The gardeners at Cypress Community Garden, another garden that was bulldozed, created a video set to sentimental music showing the varied ways that community members use the space (Cypress Community Garden 2014). This same group of gardeners and nearby residents has been active in resisting the City of Vancouver’s attempt to install an asphalt path on the Corridor, urging the City to “stop paving paradise” (ibid). Although from some perspectives the Arbutus Corridor is seen as an empty, abandoned space, it is clear that for these gardeners and others who have developed a relationship with it, the space is filled with purpose and possibility.

Fig. 4:

GARDEN LOVE

A Cypress Community Garden video created in reaction to bulldozing of community gardens along the Arbutus Corridor shows the ways that people were (and are) attached to their plots. (Cypress Community Garden 2014).

Fig. 5:

#OURBUTUS

(Opposite Page): Twitter posts to the hasthag ourbutus suggest a wide range of possible futures for the Corridor.

This sense of possibility is one of the reasons that so many people are able to find a creative use for the Arbutus Corridor. It has not been filled with permanent, designed objects, and so people are free to interpret its space in any way they wish. This has resulted in the many uses discussed above, and it also allows for a public imagining of the Arbutus Corridorâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s future. Large scale visions for the Corridor have ranged wildly, from a site for traveling fish markets to a low-income housing zone (SPEC 2004).

The discussion about what could be done with such an open, undeveloped site is particularly intense now that the City of Vancouver has purchased the Corridor. This conversation is captured by a group of local designers who install signs along the Corridor prompting people to tweet their visions for the space under the hash tag #ourbutus (Ourbutus 2016). Responses to this initiative range wildly, with some people wishing for little change, others wanting trams, parks, or even a long waterslide (ibid). Urban designers and landscape architects seldom accommodate public creativity and future possibility. A rendering created by the City of Vancouver shows the Arbutus Corridor (now re-branded as the Arbutus Greenway) with cycling paths, walkways, a transit line, and beautifully-manicured trees and lawn (City of Vancouver 2016). Although this version of the Corridor’s future is aesthetically pleasing and fulfills many valid programs, it doesn’t provide any space for people to engage with it creatively. In this proposal, the existing uses, and all future possible uses, are replaced by the single, static vision of the designer. The future of the Arbutus Corridor is undetermined, but it is sure to bring change. As a large space in an increasingly dense and expensive city, this public open space should provide benefit to a great number of people. The Corridor has the capacity

“Loose spaces allow for the chance encounter, the spontaneous event, the enjoyment of diversity and the discovery of the unexpected” (Franck and Stevens 2007, 4)

to provide active or transit transportation, is able to contribute to the City’s natural capital, and can also host programs and destinations that will contribute to the livability of the neighbourhoods alongside it. But as the future of the Corridor unfolds, it will be easy for the original magic of the space to be lost. All too quickly, the ‘loose space’ that promotes diversity, engagement, and spontaneity may be transformed to a fixed, finished landscape that can neither be rearranged nor re-imagined (Franck and Stevens 2007). A truly great design for the Arbutus

Corridor will find a way to combine the best parts of the Corridor – the possibility, the creativity, the experimentation – with ways for many more people to take part in, to travel through, and to marvel at this unique space.

Fig. 6:

ARBUTUS GREENWAY

The City of Vancouver rendering of the future Arbutus Greenway shows a space that people can passively enjoy, but does not include any of the creative uses that are currently found on the Corridor. (City of Vancouver 2016).

WHAT IS LOOSE SPACE? The Arbutus Corridor can be thought of as a ‘loose space’ (Franck and Stevens 2007). The framework of loose space allows the understanding of the qualities that differentiate the Corridor from more designed and controlled parts of Vancouver. This framework also provides a starting point to the discussion about how future designs for the Corridor can strengthen the ways that people currently engage with the it. To that aim, we must first address the question of, ‘what is loose space?’. In most public spaces, users must adhere to the specific activities that social norms, regulations and the design of the space allows (Jorgenson and Keenan 2012). Cities, however, are punctuated with spaces that are used in ways no one ever intended (Barron 2014). These are spaces “where the city’s normal forces of control have not shaped how (people) perceive, use, and occupy them” (Sheridan 2012, 201). Although any site can potentially be used in an unexpected way, certain places tend to attract this type of activity. Leftover or redundant urban spaces that don’t have assigned functions, abandoned buildings, and vacant lots

attract events, encounters and activities that do not fit into the commodified city (Franck and Stevens 2007; Barron 2014). These types of spaces lie outside the regular flow of the city, and “enable people to exercise their freedom of choice” and to manipulate their environment (Rivlin 2007, 48). While certain sites provide the physical location for loose space, they do not form loose space on their own. Loose space is socially-constructed, and is “both

a condition and a process” (Barron 2014, 2). Loose spaces are activated by people’s use of them. The act of engaging in a practice for which the site was not planned, turns the site into a loose space.

ALTERNATE NAMES FOR LOOSE SPACE Informal Space (Shaw and Hudson 2009)

Loose Fit Places (Ward Thompson 2002)

Terrain Vagues (de Sola-Morales 1995)

Dead Zones (Doron 2000)

Superfluous Landscapes (Nielsen 2002)

Voids

(Armstrong 2006)

Ambivalent Landscapes (Jorgensen and Tylecote 2007)

Urban Interstices (Tonnelat 2008)

Urban Wildscape (Sheridan 2012)

Uselessness (Kullman 2014)

Fig. 7:

Loose spaces are temporal. They often occupy sites that are in a transition from one state to another, such as the vacant lot, which is in a temporary state in between being decommissioned and being redeveloped (Franck 2014). The degree of looseness on a particular site is also in short-term flux. A street, for example, may be quite tight on a regular basis, but acquire a large amount of looseness when it is closed for a festival. During the festival, unexpected activities may be carried out and a great variety of users are able to make use of a space that was originally designed to move traffic. This looseness then recedes when the festival is over and the street resumes its original function. The looseness or tightness of a site can be thought of as an ongoing dialectic. Very loose sites may become appropriated for uses that preclude any other activity, and therefore lose some of their looseness, while tight sites often gain looseness as people contest the rules and regulations that apply on the site (Franck and Stevens 2007). This dialectic plays out on the Arbutus Corridor, where people challenged the tightness of the space’s purpose as a rail corridor, engendering looseness through acts of spontaneous use and appropriation. These acts have resulted in some programs becoming fixed onto the site, as is the case for community gardens that have been authorized along the Corridor. The frequent loose use of the site helped to bring attention to its value as a public space, which hastened the City of Vancouver’s decision to purchase it – a decision

APPROPRIATED PATIO SPACE

(Opposite): A patch of overgrown shrubs and trees on the Corridor has been partially-cleared, creating a hidden space that has been appropriated as a semiprivate patio.

TEMPORARY HABITATION

AD HOC PERFORMANCE

ANIMAL COLONIZATION

GUERILLA GARDENING

BEEKEEPING

AUTHORIZED BEAUTIFICATION

AUTHORIZED GARDENING POSSIBLE FUTURES

PLANT COLONIZATION

PAVED CYCLE PATH

RAIL CONSTRUCTION & OPERATION

TIME

AFFORDANCE which may herald a tightening of the site if it is turned into a more formal park or greenway. While this graduate project concerns itself with a site that is on the far end of the ‘looseness spectrum’, it is important to note that all of the spaces of the city hold varying, fluctuating degrees of looseness. Loose space is not only important to the human inhabitants of cities. Many plant and animal species are also constrained by the planning, design, and oversight employed over the majority of the city. In loose spaces, where maintenance and development activities are halted, a rich array of urban-adapted species are able to establish (Campo 2013). The novel ecosystems found on many loose spaces offer valuable ecosystem services to the city, and frequently harbour rare species (Gobster 2012). Perhaps even more importantly, these ecosystems complement the spontaneous uses that people find for loose spaces. In such spaces exists “a form of nature that is more flexible, pliable, open, and available” than that found in other parts of the city (Campo 2013, 253). This nature is one that can be touched, harvested, and re-arranged in concert with people’s appropriation of other aspects of a loose space.

What a landscape can provide to people, and how people use that landscape, are not one and the same. This principle is expressed by Gibson’s concept of affordances (1979). An affordance encompasses both what a site provides, and how those provisions are perceived (ibid). Although a site contains the same elements regardless of who is using it, the affordances that are perceived are unique to each user. Thus, a vacant lot may afford a place to garden for one person while affording a place to hold a paintball fight for another. Much of the work around affordances of the built environment has centred on ensuring that the affordance is perceived and used in the ‘correct’ manner (Maier and Fadel 2009). For example, a door handle affords entry into a building, but it must be correctly designed so that it guides the body to either push it or pull it, depending on how the door is configured (ibid). Much of our built environment is constructed in such a way as to make it clear how one should use it. That is, the ideal affordances of the environment are set by the designer, and are indicated through the placement, form, and materiality of objects (Rietveld and Kiverstein 2014). These affordances are typically the same across diverse groups of people. Where affordances arise that the designer did not intend, signs are often placed to attempt to correct the problem (ibid). ‘Do not walk’ signs are placed on corners of plantings that afford a shortcut Fig. 8:

TEMPORALITY OF LOOSENESS

(Opposite Page) Loose activities and uses have fluctuated on the Arbutus Corridor since it was first constructed as a rail line.

through the parking lot, for example, or ‘Push’ signs are erected on door handles that afford an ineffective grasp for pulling. Loose spaces are ambiguous and indeterminate by nature (Sheridan 2012). They are places that have become untethered from the affordances conceived by normative society and the designer. Because abandoned lots, leftover spaces, and ruins do not have fixed programs and are often filled with an interesting assortment of physical objects, they supply a range of unusual affordances (Rivlin 2007). In these spaces, people are free to bring in their skills, abilities, and learned practices and apply them to the environment in new and unanticipated ways (Rietveld and Kiverstein 2014). Because loose spaces are freed from the confines of how one should use the space, they are more open to interpretation and are likely to provide a range of affordances that differ dramatically for different types of people (Rivlin 2007).

CHILDREN The loose spaces created by “wastelands” are the most preferred of any type of landscape amongst suburban children (Hart 1982, 4). These wastelands are neither parks nor nature conservation areas, but hold the best of both types of spaces in regards to children’s play: they offer an abundance of loose natural objects that children can use in imaginative play, and contain no rules or restrictions regarding the creating of messes (ibid). Fig. 9:

LOOSE PLANTS

(Opposite Page). Plants that grow spontaneously in urban settings are often called weeds, but they have much to offer. They can be picked, rearranged, played with, and also perform valuable ecosystem services.

Children like places to dig, build, make, and break, and these types of activities contribute to a child’s healthy development (Ward-Thompson 2012). While play in nature has been shown to improve children’s physical, emotional, and social health (Kahn and Kellert 2002), nature conservation areas in cities are often seen as too valuable or too fragile to allow for play (Gobster 2012). The spaces that are specially designed for children’s play – playgrounds – are typically lacking in excitement and imagination and provide no opportunity for children to alter their play environment (Rasmussend and Smidt 2003). Loose spaces afford places for children to be away from adults or other people, as well as the ability to construct, destroy, and to learn about the world (Ward-Thompson 2012).

CREATIVITY Children are not alone in desiring places that they can make their own. Adults also want places that allow them to “exercise their freedom of choice” and to manipulate their environment (Rivlin 2007, 48). Loose spaces afford these freedoms for multiple reasons. Firstly, since they are generally removed from the rest of the city, they afford the anonymity to express oneself, free from judgement (Franck and Stevens 2007). Secondly, as no one is responsible for ensuring that loose spaces are maintained in a fixed state, it becomes possible for people to move things around within these spaces (ibid). Thirdly, loose

spaces afford all sorts of building materials and places to appropriate for original uses. The decaying objects of a ruined landscape offer “medleys of colour and texture” that can be rearranged into fantastical works of art, used to construct tipsy-turvy shelters, or just smashed, stacked, collected and arranged out of pure whimsy (Edenson 2007, 246). These found objects are complemented by an assortment of natural plants that grow spontaneously and provide parts that can be picked, eaten, constructed, and played with. Fixed elements in loose sites such as stairs, walls, fences, or old industrial equipment also afford improvised uses. For example, a wall in a loose urban space might serve as a place to hang goods for informal sale, as a sitting ledge, or as a foil for other activities (Rivlin 2007). As urban areas become increasingly commodified, loose spaces are gaining importance for their ability to give people the opportunity to be creators and active participants in their city (Franck and Stevens 2007).

MARGINALIZED ACTIVITY One of the most common affordances of loose space is the provision of a space where one can undertake activities that are not welcome in other parts of the

city. These marginalized uses (often performed by marginalized people) find a home in loose spaces that lie outside the regular flow and surveillance of the normative city (Franck and Stevens 2007). The rough, dirty, surreal environment of ruins and abandoned places lends itself to hedonistic pursuits and destructive activities that would not be tolerated elsewhere (Edenson et. al. 2012). This is in stark contrast to the typical manicured and aesthetically-harmonious public park, an urban typology that still reflects 17th century British ideals regarding the civilizing influence of parklands on the lower classes (Ward Thompson 2012). In both British 17th century parks and in many of today’s public spaces, laws prevent “drinking, picnicking, music-playing, dancing, gambling, and other entertainment” (Ward Thompson 2012, 50). In his book, The Accidental Playground, Daniel Campo recounts the transformation of Brooklyn’s waterfront from a loose space used for many types of unsanctioned public activities, to parklands with long lists of rules regulating the types of activities that could be carried out in them (2013). While certain activities were still permitted (during the park’s open hours), marginalized and even some very common uses were excluded from these spaces (ibid).

One of the few locations where designed public space interfaces directly with the Arbutus Corridor is at the BC Liquor Store plaza near Arbutus and Broadway. Here, a plaza with benches and plantings bleeds into the Corridor. On one of my summer walks along the Corridor, I stopped to sit on one of the benches for a rest. On that sunny day, I could see a revolving set of people walk up the Arbutus Corridor, drop bottles off at the associated bottle depot, make a quick stop in the liquor store, and then settle on one of the benches for a quick drink. One of these people was a very chatty man (whom I’ll call Peter), who generously offered to share his brandy with me. Peter told me about how he had been living on this stretch of the Arbutus Corridor for the past twelve years. On a snowy year, he said, some people had constructed a snow shelter up against one of the buildings in which to wait out the cold winter nights. He preferred to stay in a nearby place called the ‘bird sanctuary’, where the walls of adjacent buildings were near enough to each other to trap some of the heat from exhaust ducts and to create a cozy spot for people, pigeons and seagulls. Peter animatedly told the tale of the time that he had even shared the space with a bald eagle! When it was time for me to resume my walk up the Corridor, Peter continued on with me for a few paces, before joining a group of his friends, who had set up a ring of chairs and were playing guitar and hanging out. The creative actions of advantaged people – perhaps the act of painting or sculpting – are recognized as art. Marginalized people also exhibit great creativity, but their work is more likely to be referred to as vandalism than art. There is a great creativity involved in shaping a place to sleep in a regulated city, in imagining a pigeon nest as a place where a small community of homeless people can settle. Peter and his friends have been the de-facto owners of this portion of the Arbutus Corridor for many years, yet their rights are completely unrecognized. Any ‘tight’ design of the space will exclude these people from the place that they have, through their own ingenuity, transformed into a home.

It is not just marginalized activity that gets excluded from tight public space. Marginalized people are also kept out of the regulated city. Homeless people, drug users, and teens make use of loose spaces in part because they may not have anywhere else to go (Franck and Stevens 2007). Much research has been done on teen’s use of loose spaces. Being out in public space is an important contributor to a teen’s formation and negotiation of self-identity, yet often teens are unwelcome in public space (Franck and Stevens 2007). There is a societal bias against teens that results in the mere presence of a group of teens being perceived as a threat (Ward-Thompson 2012). Teenagers “lack (…) opportunities for free and adventurous activity, and landscapes that might allow this to happen” (52). Loose spaces are one of the few types of spaces in a city where teens, and other marginalized groups, are able to congregate and act as they wish, free from public judgment (ibid).

FEAR AND RISK While loose space affords many uses – often for people who have few other places in the city – it also legitimately produces fear and sometimes even danger for many others. Most designed parts of the city are left open to surveillance, and this increases safety for most people. However, public spaces designed for the homogeneous ‘public good’ exclude marginalized groups such as teens or the homeless, and also makes those spaces closed to acts of cre-

ativity and experimentation (Franck and Stevens 2007; Shaw and Hudson 2009). It’s important to balance safety from fear and crime with the freedom to be free of surveillance and to carry out certain activities (Franck and Stevens 2007). Some dangers, for example those posed by assault or the dumping of toxic waste, should not be acceptable in any space, but perhaps some unpleasant activities that are unlikely to result in actual danger could be tolerated under some situations (ibid). Urban living includes (and has always included) a need for activities that are deemed too “adventurous or risky” (Ward-Thompson 2012, 51). Most North American public spaces have been designed to minimize risk (Campo 2013). This comes at the expense of reducing opportunities to experiment with danger, or even in many cases to engage in simple acts such as climbing down to the riverside (ibid). People who want a little more risk and adventure seek out loose spaces, where they must account for their own safety amongst uneven ground, sharp objects, and unlit spaces (Franck and Stevens 2007). Although the actual risk associated with loose space is quite low, its perceived risk and danger excludes many people from making use of those spaces (Kullman 2014, Franck and Stevens 2007). Design for loose spaces must find ways of minimizing the sense of the unsafe, while maintaining areas where moderately risky behavioursmay still be carried out.

THE ECOLOGY OF LOOSE SPACE Cities contain many types of nature. Most often, when we discuss urban nature, we are describing natural areas that existed before the city was constructed (Kowarik 2005). Remnant pockets of undeveloped forests and wetlands add biodiversity to the city, and often form some of our most beloved parklands. Gardens and parks also harbour a great deal of urban nature, as do other managed landscapes such as golf courses or urban forests. One source of rich natural bounty, however, is often ignored. Plants and animals that have settled on post-industrial landscapes tend to be discounted as inferior to nature found on sites that were never disturbed in the first place (ibid). Despite this bias, evidence shows that these wild urban ecosystems perform valuable ecological services. Like other types of nature, they build soil, improve hydrologic function, and â&#x20AC;&#x153;provide habitat for native speciesâ&#x20AC;? (Morse et. al. WHAT IS A WILD URBAN PLANT? Wild urban plants are those plants that grow spontaneously in post-industrial or post-disturbance urban environments. They may be native, but are often introduced species from all over the world. Wild urban plants, and wild urban ecosystems, are perfectly suited to the urban environment in which they grow. (Del Tredici 2010).

Fig. 10: LOOSEN UP OUR PARKS

The pre-settlement nature found at Jericho Park in Vancouver is ecologically rich, but sensitive. Only trained biologists, the parks board, and volunteers may impact this nature. Our cities also need creative ecologies, where adults and children can play with the natural environment.

2014). Urban ecosystems harbour high levels of biodiversity - often higher than that of the surrounding countryside (Luck and Smallbone 2010). Furthermore, like all vegetation in the city, wild urban plant communities contribute to the emotional, physical, and social well-being of urbanites in ways that are only just beginning to be understood (Fuller and Irvine 2010).

COMMON NATURE The plant and animal communities that thrive on post-industrial sites are particularly well suited to loose uses. Whereas plants in protected nature areas and manicured parks need to be carefully tended, wild urban plants are self-sustaining, and indeed often survive despite our best efforts to rid the city of them (Del Tredici 2010). The weedy plants that are found on

derelict sites are not ‘precious’. Their flowers may be picked, their branches may be cut for use in fort building, and their roots may be dug up to make way for new community garden plots. And when activities such as digging or dragging heavy objects or building fires leave behind bare soil, the ground is quickly colonized by the seeds and rhizomes of these tenacious plant species. Wild urban ecosystems are ubiquitous in the city. They are thriving despite the news of ecosystem degradation and species extinction that we are constantly faced with. While much of traditional ecology casts its gaze back to the pre-settlement era, lamenting the many losses

that we are facing, a new brand of ecology is becoming excited about novel plant assemblages that may actually benefit from human activity (Gobster 2012, Reed and Lister 2014). These wild urban plants can be experimented with and improved upon without the fear that we may only be making things worse. As the celebrated nature writer Emma Marris points out, every one of the ecologists and conservationists that she knows built forts in nature as children (Marris 2016). Loose spaces, filled with thriving wild urban plants and animals, have the potential to provide the meaningful, hands-on connections to nature that teach people – young and old – to care for our wild planet.

DESIGN + LOOSENESS: CAN THEY CO-EXIST? If loose space is created through the spontaneous use of a place for something other than what it was intended, is it even possible for the designer to foster its development? Many authors have seen the designer and loose space as being at direct odds with one another. Henri Lefebvre’s “triplicity” of space distinguishes the “conceived” and “perceived” spaces of the planner or designer from the “lived space” of the human inhabitant (1991, 39). “Lived space” represents temporary appropriation; it is a space of possibility rather than actuality, and it is loose whereas Lefebvres other spaces are not (ibid). Ignasi De Solá-Morales also sees the designer as being a negative force in the creation of loose space:

“When architecture and urban design project their desire onto a vacant space, a terrain vague, they seem incapable of doing anything other than introducing violent transformations (…) and striving at all costs to dissolve the uncontaminated magic of the obsolete in the realism of efficacy” (De SoláMorales 2014, 29).

Like De Solá-Morales, Karl Kullman writes that a designer’s desire to interject usefulness into a loose site risks smothering the qualities that drew the designer to the site in the first place (2015). Daniel Campo takes a slightly less antagonistic view, noticing that designers often get excited about unplanned space (2013). Despite this enthusiasm, loose space is nearly never incorporated into these designer’s plans, due to issues of liability and public safety (ibid). Franck and Stevens (2007) also write a little more hopefully about loose space within the fabric of designed environments. While acknowledging that the loosest spaces are found on derelict or unmanaged sites, they extend their definition of loose space to include planned public open space where one may encounter all sorts of diverse people and unexpected situations. Most authors agree that it is impossible to plan for the unplanned, but many offer ideas about how one may facilitate or otherwise encourage creativity and looseness in the landscape. The following diagrams form a compendium of the many ways that looseness can be ‘designed’, gleaned from a combination of relevant literature, from precedents, and from the Arbutus Corridor itself.

ATTENTION TO CONTINUITY

EMPTY SPACE

Incorporate the “flows, the energies, the rhythms established” on the site into future designs. (De SoláMorales 2014, 29-30)

Leave some parts of the site undersigned, so that its looseness can keep developing un-interrupted. (Corridor observations)

SPACE CREATED BY USE

CHANGE

Dirt paths and nooks in vegetation are maintained by use, and expand and contract with user’s needs. Where possible, design objects and spaces that are created and maintained through their use. (Corridor observations)

Design landscapes that are meant to change. Include this element of change in representations of the landscape, so that it becomes clear that the landscape is not a fixed object. (Millennium Park precedent)

VARIABLE LANDFORM

FACILITATION

Create rough, variable topography, which creates “friction onto which (spontaneous) programs are more likely to adhere.” (Kullman 2015, 166167)

The designer should not copy DIY and unplanned practices, but rather “facilitate the designs, programs, whims, and accidents of others”. (Campo 2013, 249)

ALLOWANCE

MODIFIABLE ELEMENTS

Change rules and policy to allow and support bottom-up, interim property use. (Sheridan 2012).

ENCOURAGING PARTICIPATION Find ways to enhance bottom-up initiation of projects, and encourage public participation. (Sheridan 2012)

The designer of the space does not create looseness – people do. The site must contain potential for looseness, and be open for appropriation. Incorporate elements that can be modified. (Franck and Stevens 2007).

INCOMPLETENESS Allow the design to remain unfinished, so that it may grow and adapt over time. (Sheridan 2012)

AMBIGUITY

HIDDEN SPACES

Resist the urge to make the design fit into established categories, or to program the entire site. Make room for spaces that have indeterminate uses. (Sheridan 2012)

Public spaces are usually designed to be open and visible, but this excludes certain groups or activities. Provide some hidden spaces with entry and exit points that have been carefully designed to account for public safety. (Corridor observations)

“WEAK DESIGN”

OBJECT-DRIVEN SUCCESSION

Amplify existing physical and social aspects of the site. (Kullman 2015)

Trees and shrubs grow where slopes or objects impede the mowing of vegetation. This phenomenon can be intentionally employed to create havens for spontaneous vegetation – and the spontaneous uses that go with it. (Corridor observations)

PERFORMANCE

SPONTANEOUS VEGETATION Encourage spontaneous performance and spectacle through the installation of stages and viewing areas. (Artery precedent)

SEMI-FIXED ELEMENTS Avoid overdesigning the site with fixed elements. Instead, use semi-fixed elements such as carts, sidewalk umbrellas and tables. (Nisha 2007)

Allow for the growth of weeds and wild urban plants that can be picked, dug, cut back and played with. (Jorgenson and Kennan 2012)

ALLOTMENTS Community gardens provide a model for the allocation of small public areas to individual creative endeavor. Support community gardens, and create allotments where people can engage in other types of creative pursuits. (Corridor observations)

RE-PURPOSING MATERIALS

DIVERSITY

Spark creative thought by employing low-tech, repurposed and easily-available material throughout the design. (artery precedent)

Encourage participation from diverse groups of people, and create a diversity of programs. (Sheridan 2012)

TEMPORARY PROGRAMS

INTERRUPTED PLANNING

Facilitate temporary uses, as these allow for future possibility. (Kullman 2015)

Accept the city’s flaws and accidents, and make room for chance. Implement two plans at once, or interrupt the planning process. (Königsten 2014)

TREES

ART

Trees can protect a loose site from being redeveloped, as people often hesitate to remove trees once they are established. (Kullman 2015)

Art can be used to activate a site, and to mediate between expected public uses and activities that fall outside of tolerated norms. Encourage both commissioned and spontaneous art on the site. (Artery precedent)

AFFORDING ELEMENTS

“SEMI-PERMEABLE THRESHOLDS”

Design objects that can be used in many ways. Fences, low walls, nature, water, art, and historic elements can provide multiple affordances. (Rivlin 2007)

Closed-off, a loose space feels dangerous. Completely opened, the space is likely be overtaken by the normalizing force of the city. Create a semipermeable threshold, perhaps of topography or edited vegetation, to balance access and safety in a loose space. (Kullman 2015, 169)

PRECEDENT: TEMPORALITY AND PROCESS Project: Millennium Park (Central Park) Designer: Michel Desvigne and Christine Dalnoky Location: Greenwhich, London, UK Construction Date: 1997-2000 Area: 120ha

Millennium Park is located on London’s Greenwich Peninsula. It was created as a site to host a Millennium Exhibition, and also had a longer-term goal of serving as parkland to future dense housing developments (CABE 2011). Michel Desvigne and Christine Dalnoky designed the Central Park portion of the park, which also includes a South Park and an Ecology Park (ibid). Desvigne and Dalnoky’s design is very simple: it consists of a grid of fast and slow-growing trees, densely planted, that are thinned over long time frames to generate different spatial qualities (Dalnoky 1998).

UNFINISHED LANDSCAPE Time and process, rather than finished product, are the main focus of this project. Millennium Park was required to be usable within a short time after construction (CABE 2011). In order to satisfy this short term goal, a combination of large poplar trees and slower growing beech trees were planted at a dense spacing of 3.5m on center (Grosse-Bächle 2005). These provided

“We are creating a place, without complete control, because it is in the process of making itself” (Christine Dalnoky 1998)

an immediate state of young forest for the Millennium Exhibition, but were only the starting point for a design that was meant to change over time. Rather than creating a plan that showed the final design, Desvigne and Dalnoky drew a series of desired end points to illustrate how the trees could be strategically thinned to create clearings and circulation (ibid). By creating a landscape that was never really finished, Desvigne and Dalnoky maintained a sense of open possibility about the park’s future.

LANDSCAPE OF POVERTY Desvigne describes his work as an architecture of poverty (Desvigne 2009). Millennium Park required few costly materials, but rather used “saplings, which are reminiscent of nothing and yet cover the ground with their dead leaves, immediately transforming the most artificial materials into dusty undergrowth” (Desvigne 2009,

11). The use of immediately available, inexpensive materials is reminiscent of the way that people make spontaneous use of loose space: they rearrange what they can already find on the site, rather than introduce costly materials to solve their design problem. This strategy avoids generating an overly “polished” look (ibid).

EMPTY LANDSCAPE The grid of trees chosen as the main element in the Central Park portion of this project is very simple, and devoid of programmatic intention. The emptiness of the space created by the trees counteracts the saturation of much of the European landscape (Dalnoky 1998). This “Provides clarity to a complex situation” (Dalnoky 1998), and also leaves the site open for use in unintended ways.

Fig. 11: TREES OF MILLENNIUM PARK

Fig. 12: REPRESENTING CHANGE

(Opposite Page). The park is planted with a dense grid of trees (from CABE 2011).

(This Page). Desvigne and Dalnoky’s design cannot be represented by one plan. Rather, it requires a set of plans and sections that describe future states (from van Doreen 2012).

PRECEDENT: ART + PLACEMAKING Project: artery Designer: beinbetween; project initiated by Keith Hayes Location: Milwaukee, Wisconson, USA Initiation Date: 2012 Area: 8.1 ha Length: 3.9km

The artery is a nearly 4 km long linear art space on a former rail right of way, that forms part of a wider trail system in Milwaukee. It is both a “social and spatial initiative” catalyzed by the architectural collective beinbetween (“The artery” n.d.). The goal of the artery is to use art to revitalize and stitch together segregated neighbourhoods (Hayes 2012). The project involves a high number of stakeholders, from city officials to non profit societies to development groups (Murphy 2014). The artery consists of a pathway running along the length of the site, that is activated through periodic insertions of art, programmatic elements such as basketball hoops and play spaces, and performance spaces (Hayes 2012). The site has not been completely designed, but rather is continually evolving as new ideas and funding become available.

Fig. 13: THE ARTERY Plan and suggested program of the artery. (Hayes 2012)

“This linear park has not been created to be a typical park, but rather a creative space for the community.” (Molter 2014)

SMALL PUNCTUATIONS OF ART Art abounds in the artery, yet few spaces have been designed specifically to hold it. Rather, the art works found along the trail fit themselves into the overgrown and slightly dilapidated milieu of the abandoned railroad. Basketball hoops made of found objects, created by youth through a funded arts program, are screwed into existing telephone poles (Waxman 2014). Every 30 meters, a cheaply-constructed sign contains a play on words that is meant to help walkers “lose themselves (…) in this forgotten corridor” (“Psynology” n.d.). This medley of inexpensive, community-created art conveys the message that anyone can contribute to making the artery a more creative place.

Fig. 14: COLLABORATIVE ART (Top) The Hoop Dreams’ installation: baskeball hoops made by youth. (Waxman 2014) Fig. 15: SMALL ACTS OF ART (Bottom) The art piece “Psynology” erects a series of signs that help visitors loose themselves along the trail. (Psynology n.d.)

STAGES The most prominent features of the artery are its numerous stages. At both ends of the trail, stages constructed from a shipping container that have been cut and placed on their sides create life-sized dioramas (“South Stage” n.d.). The middle of the trail holds the Main Stage, the largest event space of the artery, consisting of a large, flat and sturdy platform and seating (“Main Stage” n.d.). Small festivals featuring performances from local artists are held on these stages once per month all summer long (Waxman 2014). The artery’s stages are able to accommodate organized events, but are also completely open and available to impromptu appropriation.

Fig. 16: STAGES The artery’s south stage is reminiscent of the diorama. Openings in the shipping container bring wild urban plants into the space of performance. (“South Stage” n.d.)

“A wide variety of events including potluck dinners, open mic nights, and trivia games also are taking place in the artery. Canvassers are going door-to-door asking neighbors about their heritage and about favorite family recipes. There are plans to use this information in future art projects.” (Waxman 2014)

MATERIAL RE-USE All of the constructed elements of the artery share one common trait: they are made of re-purposed materials that are easy and inexpensive to obtain. Shipping containers are turned into stages, storage, and even a computer lab (Waxman 2014). I-Joists are installed side-by-side or stacked to create the Main Stage and bleachers (Molter 2014). Tires, frequently dumped illegally on the artery site, are reworked into a paving system (Hayes 2012). Inner tubes and building insulation come together to form padding for wooden benches (Molter 2014). These types of materials are at home in the loose environment of the artery. They emphasize the idea that any material, and any place, can lend itself to a creative endeavor.

Fig. 17: RECYCLED BENCH

Fig. 19: RECYCLED STAGE

(Above): Inner tubes and building insulation make a padded bench (Molter 2014). Fig. 18: RECYCLED BLEACHERS

(Mid right): I-Joists are recycled into a stage (Molter 2014). Fig. 20: RECYCLED PATH

(Top right): I-Joists are recycled into bleachers (Molter 2014).

(Bottom right): Tires are cut, tied together, and filled with gravel to create a pathway (Hayes 2012).

PRECEDENT: TEMPORALITY + ENGAGEMENT Project: Fredericia C – Temporary park Designer: SLA Location: Fredericia, Denmark Construction Date: 2010 Area: 14 ha

The park at Fredericia C, designed by Copenhagen’s SLA, provides an example of a project that fully embraces the idea of the temporary. The park acts as a process, rather than a product. Its goal is to bring life and community spirit to a site that is being developed into a new master-planned community (“Temporary Spaces” 2015). Rather than seeing the built environment as the principle driver of city life, SLA has cast the grown environment into the role of primary catalyst for the new community (“New Order of Nature”). The temporary park is situated on Fredericia’s harbour, a place that was heavily industrial in the near past (ibid). It simultaneously celebrates the industrial nature of the park’s location, while creating space for a new future to emerge.

Fig. 21: PARTICIPATORY DESIGN A lego park design competition was held, and three of the children’s designs were recreated using wooden pallets. (“Temporary Spaces” 2015)

PUBLIC PARTICIPATION The park is meant to get people onto the Fredericia C site, and it does this partly by involving people in all stages of its design, construction, and everyday use (“Temporary Spaces” 2015). Three designs created by children using legos were chosen to be constructed out of pallets and plantings (ibid). Seating at the community garden consists of simple lengths of wooden beams that can be stacked or rearranged around a fire pit. The community garden itself allows people to interact directly with the site, growing whatever they wish.

FRAMEWORK FOR ACTIVITY

EVERYTHING IS TEMPORARY

The park was designed using a set of frameworks, borrowed from historical elements such as paved areas in the old harbour (“SLA: Selected Works” 2014). These spatial frameworks are treated using different ground materials: sand, pre-grown mats of wildflower laid directly over asphalt, pallet parklets, and undulating grass mounds break up areas that are left in their original condition. While some programmatic elements are inserted (a volleyball net, for example), the program is meant to change according to the preferences of the park’s users and future residents of the community (ibid).

The detailing and construction of the park at Fredericia C is orchestrated to be completely removable, and often even adaptable to new configurations. Rather than excavating the ground plane (much of it contaminated), the park’s elements are placed over top (“New Order of Nature”). Simple wooden crates set over the existing asphalt serve as community gardens. Pallets are stacked to create a multi-level seating and play structure. Trees are grown in industrial wagons, ready to be pulled to another location. Even trees that are planted into the ground are left in their root balls, able to be moved within a period of five years (“SLA Selected Works” 2014). These lowcost, temporary strategies result in a park that feels open to future possibility, while being completely usable in the present.

Fig. 22: FRAMEWORK FOR USE (Above): Rolling topography delineates frameworks of space that are superimposed with activities. Fig. 23: MOVABLE PLANTINGS (Top right):Temporary plantings are placed in industrial carts. Fig. 24: TEMPORARY GARDENS (Bottom right): Temporary community gardens find a home in wooden creates. (All images from “New Order of Nature”).

General Electric leases rail line: “Steveston Interurban Tram”

Hyde 2011

Rail line to Steveston completed: “Sockeye Express”

1902

1886

BC Electric Co. Ltd. 1923

General Electric’s passenger tram was active until 1958 (Application to CTA, n.d.). At that time, automobiles overtook tram as the main form of transportation, and industry fell out of favour within the city (Manness 2001). Much freight began to be transported by truck rather than train (ibid). One of the two rail tracks on the Arbutus Corridor was removed, and only

Crown gives CPR 6458 acres of land for regional transit

The Arbutus Corridor has been in existence since the early 1900’s when the Crown gave CP Rail the Corridor land in exchange for the provisioning of regional rail transit (Manness 2001). The resultant rail line, completed in 1902, was originally constructed to service the canneries in Steveston and became dubbed the “Sockeye Special” (Caliente 2012). After three

Matthews 1912

The Arbutus Corridor is a roughly 9 km long railway corridor that stretches between the Fraser River to the south and False Creek to the north in Vancouver’s west side. It is typically 20 meters wide but narrows down to 15.5m along some areas north of 16th Avenue. The Arbutus Corridor runs approximately parallel to Arbutus Street in Vancouver, passing through many neighbourhoods with a range of industrial, commercial, residential, and mixed-use development.

years CP Rail leased the line to General Electric, who ran a passenger service from Steveston to downtown Vancouver (ibid). In his book “The Sockeye Special: The Story of the Steveston Tram and early Lulu Island”, Ron Hyde describes the fast and efficient service provided by this passenger service (2011). The Sockeye Special ran 19 hours per day, cost only $.85 return, and took one hour and fifteen minutes to cover its entire route (ibid). The same journey now takes nearly an hour and requires a transfer between the Canada Line Skytrain and #410 bus (Caliente 2012).

1905

THE ARBUTUS CORRIDOR

CP Rail lists Arbutus Corridor as ‘discontinued’

1999

Blisette 2014

GVRD Liveable Region Strategic Plan proposes greenway

1993

Interurban Tram Service Stops

1958

First Community Garden on Corridor: Arbutus Victory Gardens

1942

Lindsey 1943

Since the trains stopped running along the Arbutus Corridor, CP Rail stopped clearing and maintaining the tracks (Application to CTA, n.d). Weeds and ruderal vegetation that had been kept at bay began to expand, and human users also began to see opportunity in this otherwise unused space. Kevin King, who wrote “The Arbutus Corridor Design Study” for his Master’s of Planning Degree, wrote of the many

The most significant users of the abandoned rail line became community gardeners. Seven permitted community gardens are found along the Arbutus Corridor: Arbutus Victory Gardens, Kerrisdale Community Garden, The World in a Garden, JFSA Community Garden, Maple Community Garden, Cypress community Garden, and Pine Street Community Garden (City of Vancouver News Release, 2016). Some of these established when trains were still a common site along the Corridor, such as the Arbutus Victory Gardens which were started in 1942 (Arbutus Victory Gardens 2014), while others are much more recent, such as Pine Street Community Gardens which was formed in 2006 (Cypress Community Garden 2014). The permitted gardens occur on other

1999

COMMUNITY GARDENS

human activities that he witnessed on the corridor (2004). King describes families strolling along the tracks, people cycling, jogging, and walking their dogs.

CP Rail has only one customer: Molson Breweries

one freight train ran the track, to service Molson Brewery located at the south side of the Burrard Bridge (Application to CTA, n.d). This freight service, again operated by CP Rail, ran at a deficit. The route covered only 35-40% of its direct operating expenses and cost CP Rail about $160,000 in 1999 alone (ibid). In 2000, CP Rail negotiated with its last remaining customer to carry out deliveries via truck, and the last train ran on the Arbutus Corridor in 2001 (ibid).

Last train runs on Arbutus Corridor

Blisette 2014

2001

2000

Blisette 2014

GVRD Liveable Region Strategic Plan proposes greenway

1999

Community groups and non-profit organizations also have an interest in the

CP Rail challenges zoning change

The City of Vancouver has consistently affirmed its desire to maintain the Arbutus Corridor for purposes of transportation, including walking, cycling, and transit. This intention was expressed in Council Meetings in 1986 and 1992, included in the 1993 GVRD Livable Region Strategic Plan, the 1995 City of Vancouver Greenways Plan, and the 1997 CityPlan (King 2004). More recently, Vancouver passed the Arbutus Corridor Official Development Plan in 2000, designating the Arbutus Corridor as a transportation corridor and greenway.

2000

TRANSPORTATION

Arbutus Corridor. The Vancouver Area Cycling Coalition (VACC) sees the Corridor as a prized cycling route as it would be off-road, gently-graded, and connected to 10 other cycling route as well as to the Burrard Bridge and Canada Line (Schortinghuis, n.d.). A map created by the VACC shows that the corridor is “within 1km of 28 schools, 3 public libraries, 4 community centres, 16 shopping districts, 12 theatres, 25 parks, and many community gardens” (ibid, 1). Another organization that has taken an active role in the Arbutus Corridor is the Society Promoting Environmental Conservation (SPEC). A design competition organized by SPEC in 2004 garnered 75 submissions, many of which favoured active transportation and light rail. Some of these submissions include Yolanda Bienz and Ron Vander Eeerden’s proposal for a tram system incorporated into residential development and parks, and Rob Grant’s proposal arguing for a high-speed bikeway (ibid). Many of the entries from

Arbutus Corridor ODP changes zoning to greenway only

City-owned land, but often spill over into the Arbutus Corridor, and many informal garden plots are found along the length of the Corridor. Fruit trees, vegetable plots, flower beds, and even bee hives add life to the former rail line.

CP Rail announces it will reactivate Corridor

2014

SPEC 2004

“Transportation 2040” calls for streetcar network

2006

Cypress Community Garden 2014

Pine Street Community Garden founded

2006

SPEC organizes design competition

2004

SPEC 2004

For years, CP Rail had lost money operating the single freight load to Molson Brewery, and in 1999, CPR indicated that they would discontinue the rail line and would begin the process of offering it for sale. Shortly after, the City of Vancouver passed the Arbutus Corridor Official Development Plan, changing the zoning of the site to transportation corridor and greenway zoning, dramatically reducing the value of the land (Application to CTA, n.d.). Rather than sell the land at a much lower price, CP Rail challenged the City’s Official Development Plan, but this challenge was overturned by the Supreme Court in 2006 (ibid). This began a multi-year struggle between CP Rail, the City of Vancouver, and users of the Arbutus Corridor to establish ownership over the site.

2012

OWNERSHIP STRUGGLE

In 2014, as part of its attempt to avoid selling the Corridor at a low value, CP Rail publicly announced that it would resume rail operations on the Arbutus Corridor (Application to CTA, n.d). It issued letters to gardeners along the rail line asking them to remove personal property on CP lands (ibid.). Public outcry erupted as gardeners were told that herbicide would be applied to the CP Lands, and that their gardens would be bulldozed. In February of 2014, the Pine Street Community Garden was bulldozed, followed by the Cypress Community Garden in March (Cypress Community Garden, 2014). Videos showing emotional gardeners watching their crops being destroyed were aired on many news outlets and shared through various forms of social media. A letter addressed to Mayor Robertson, written by Arbutus Victory Gardens (2014) summarizes public sentiment around CPR’s actions (although it’s fair to say that not all were as polite):

Supreme Court affirms City’s right to zoning change

the public centred on themes of cycling or restoring the historic street car (ibid).

2016). CP Rail removed the rail lines and ties over the summer of 2016, and the city launched an Arbutus Greenway Project Office to “oversee the design process and solicit public input on the final design of the transportation corridor and greenway” (City of Vancouver News Release, 2016).

“We respectfully request that the City intervene by any legal means available, such as a stay of action or a legal suit, to halt the progress of CP’s bulldozers until such time as it demonstrates serious intent to run trains for economic benefit along the corridor… We are asking you to intervene because of the brutal, unnecessary, and possibly illegal way that CP is proceeding.”

PATH STRUGGLE

In early 2015, the City of Vancouver lost an injunction to stop CP Rail’s plan to resume rail service, and the rail company continued the pretext that it would begin operating, or testing, or perhaps storing freight cars along the corridor (Lee 2015).

City of Vancouver 2016

City of Vancouver purchases Corridor fot $55 million

2016

Robinson 2016

Pine Street Community Garden is bulldozed by CP Rail

2014

Smith 2016

CP Rail issues letters to gardeners about trespassing

2014

In March of 2016, the City of Vancouver reached a purchase agreement with CP Rail. Vancouver purchased the Corridor for $55 million, plus a share of revenue made developing lands not required for the greenway/transportation corridor (Arbutus Railway Line Purchase Agreement,

Cypress Community Garden is bulldozed by CP Rail

CITY PURCHASE

2014

The fight against CP Rail galvanized community gardeners and generated global media attention to the site. On the media platform Facebook alone, five groups and two pages related specifically to the Arbutus Corridor have been created (as of Nov. 18, 2016). A search on the CBC News website yields links to 111 news articles that have mentioned the Corridor (ibid). Such media platforms have given voice to the various community groups that have an interest in the space, and this advocacy continues to affect the Arbutus Corridor’s development. When the City of Vancouver began laying a temporary asphalt path-

(@Rachelin Tofino 2016).

“Stop paving the greenway. Leave it wild. Slow down. Listen to community input!

City begins process for final design of Corridor

2016

City leads workshops for temporary path design, resumes paving

2016

Haas Lyons and Magnussen 2016

(@flyandnest 2016)

Cypress Community Garden 2016

City begins paving with temporary asphalt path

2016

Haas Lyons and Magnusson 2016

Arbutus Greenway office and website launched

2016

Over the fall of 2016, the City of Vancouver lead a series of public workshops garnering input on the construction of the temporary pathway (Haas Lyons and Magnusson 2016). Despite vocal opposition to the initial asphalt path, response to the public workshops were overwhelmingly in favor of installing an accessible pathway (ibid). Based on the feedback received, the city announced it would resume with paving a pathway, but with a modified design that addressed a wider range of needs and opinions (ibid).

“Every day I wonder if I can break away and go roller skate the Arbutus Corridor. Ever see me there? I am so happy I am in Heaven.”

Public outcry stops paving

way in August of 2016, they were quickly stopped by public outcry from gardeners and nearby residents (Robinson 2016).

TEMPORARY PATH

Fir Street 4m asphalt path .5-1m separation 2m bark mulch path

W. Broadway 5m asphalt path separated by painted line W. 16th Ave.

4m asphalt path .5-1m separation 2m bark mulch path

W. 33rd Ave. 5m asphalt path separated by painted line W. 41st Ave.

2.5m asphalt path .5-1m separation 2.5m asphalt path

Fig. 25: TEMPORARY PATH DESIGN Milton St.

1:35,000

The temporary path design employed by the City of Vancouver uses three different configurations of pathway. This was the result of feedback from 5 community workshops carried out over the fall of 2016 (from City of Vancouver 2, 2016).

FUTURE As the City moves forward with future, more permanent designs for the Arbutus Corridor, there will likely continue to be contention between the current users, residents, and the needs of the region as a whole. For now, the Arbutus Corridors exists in the imagination of many Vancouverites as a site of splendid opportunity, of victory, and of discovery. May it continue to do so in the future.

Fig. 26: QUILCHENA CRESCENT A temporary shared asphalt path will be constructed on the Quilchena Crescent portion of the Corridor. (Image Credit: Tamara Bonnemaison)

BASE MAPS

The Arbutus Corridor has the potential to connect many different parts of the city. Many schools, community centres, parks, commercial areas, transit routes, cycling paths, and residential areas are located adjacent to or within a short distance of the

Corridor. The following maps show some of the important adjacencies of the Corridor, and begin to propose where efforts to connect these adjacencies and the Corridor should focus. These maps consists of data from Vancouver Open Data (City of Vancouver 3 2015).

Fig. 27: LOCATION OF THE CORRIDOR The Arbutus Corridor forms a north-south transect through the City of Vancouver. 1:100,000

PARKS / NATURAL AREAS

COMMUNITY GARDENS

6th AVE.

BROADWAY

16th AVE.

KING

EDWARD

KING

EDWARD

41st AVE.

49th AVE.

RESERVE LANDS

CYCLING: ON STREET/ DEDICATED

SQUAMISH LANDS 6th AVE.

6th AVE. BROADWAY

BROADWAY

16th AVE.

KING

TO MUSQUEAM RESERVE

16th AVE.

EDWARD

KING

EDWARD

41st AVE.

49th AVE.

BUS / CANADA LINE SKYTRAIN

GREENWAYS

4,7 6th AVE.

9, 14, 99

BROADWAY

6th AVE. BROADWAY

16th AVE.

KING

EDWARD

16th AVE.

KING

EDWARD

41st AVE.

49th AVE.

,1 ,17

MULTI-FAMILY HOUSING

6th AVE.

BROADWAY

16th AVE.

KING

SINGLE-FAMILY RESIDENTIAL

16th AVE.

EDWARD

KING

EDWARD

41st AVE.

49th AVE.

LIGHT INDUSTRIAL/ INDUSTRIAL

COMMERCIAL ZONING

6th AVE.

BROADWAY

16th AVE.

KING

EDWARD

KING

EDWARD

41st AVE.

49th AVE.

SCHOOLS/COMMUNITY CENTRES

6th AVE.

BROADWAY

16th AVE.

KING

NON-MARKET HOUSING

EDWARD

KING

EDWARD

41st AVE.

49th AVE.

POTENTIAL CONNECTIONS, AREAS OF COMMERCE, AND AREAS OF CHANGE

Fig. 28: CONNECTIONS Schools, community centres and parks could be connected to the Arbutus Corridor through pedestrian and cycling routes. 1:35,00

NEIGHBOURHOOD CHARACTER The Arbutus Corridor passes through many different neighbourhoods as it makes its way from False Creek to the Fraser River. Beginning at Fairview, the Corridor then passes through Kitsilano, Shaughnessy, Arbutus Ridge, Kerrisdale, and finally ends in Marpole. Although these neighbourhoods are a useful division for overall city planning purposes, the Arbutus Corridor has its own distinctive zones that do not necessarily correspond with official neighbourhood boundaries. King (2004) identified different areas that each have their own unique characteristics. These are adapted and added upon to create 10 zones for the Arbutus Wildway. Whimsical names for these zones are created by combining a common element with a common land use in each of these zones.

Multi-family residential Single-family residential/duplex Light industrial/industrial Park Commercial/mixed use Non-market housing Fig. 29: CHARACTER ZONES Ten distinct character zones have been identified along the Arbutus Corridor. These zones will guide the design and program of the Arbutus Wildway. Adapted from King 2004.

GRAVEL STUDIO: FALSE CREEK TO 6TH AVE. This zone is composed of very mixed-use development, with light industry being infiltrated by housing and boutique commercial enterprises. The large parcel at the northernmost end of the Corridor is owned by the Squamish First Nations and will likely be developed soon.

ART GARDEN: 6TH AVE. TO MAPLE ST. This zone is heavily gardened by community gardeners who make ample use of the 6th Avenue right of way along with the Arbutus Corridor. This part of the Corridor is well used and has more ‘eyes on the street’ than most parts, as the apartment buildings on the other side of 6th Avenue look down onto the Corridor.

FOREST SCHOOL: MAPLE ST. TO BROADWAY Though this is a very small part of the Corridor, the bend at 8th Avenue is distinct enough to warrant its own zone. Here, densely forested lots and reduced sight lines from the bend bring a remote feeling to this zone.

IVY MECHANIC: BROADWAY TO 16TH AVE. A small patch of older mixed use development, including a liquor store and many automobile repair shops that turn their backs to the Corridor, give this zone a rough, forgotten quality. New mixed use development is being actively constructed in this zone.

BEE MEADOW: 16TH AVE TO KING EDWARD The Arbutus Street right of way joins with the Corridor to make a long, spacious space. This zone is very open, and has been collonized by a rich assemblage of urban meadow plants.

HOPS OVERLOOK: KING EDWARD TO 37TH AVE. At this zone, the Corridor bends to follow the area’s topography, and is separated from adjacent lands by steep slopes. Dense vegetation, outstanding views, and few connection points make this zone feel like a secret, wild garden.

BLACKBERRY BOULEVARD: 37TH AVE. TO 49TH AVE. Surrounded on either side by mixed use and vibrant commercial activity, the Arbutus Corridor along this zone is reminiscent of a grand urban allee that has been improbably allowed to remain wild. Some parts of this zone are used as parking and are edged by dense shrubs, while others are left as semi-wild grasslands and open street trees. Many new residential developments are being constructed along the south end of this zone.

TRELLIS WALK: 49TH AVE. TO SW MARINE DRIVE This zone is flanked by East and West Boulevards, and has guerilla and community garden plots along much of it east side.

COMMUNITY BACKYARD: SW MARINE DRIVE TO MILTON ST. A cluster of co-op housing on the south side of SW Marine Drive give this zone a strong feeling of community spirit. Coop residents use this part of the Corridor as an extension of their shared yard.

COYOTE HIGHWAY: MILTON ST. TO FRASER RIVER This zone of the Corridor is lined by heavy industry. Stacks of concrete pipes, parallel tracks, and thick banks of blackberries make this zone feel both fascinating and slightly dangerous.

GRAVEL STUDIO