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Jane Jacobs reigns as a kind of patron saint of urbanism. Last
fall, architects, activists and others gathered in Toronto for
a conference inspired by her words, ideas, and common sense.
(Photo by Karen Levy)
| An unlikely conference convened in Toronto last fall to share
ideas, actions, and experiences inspired by Jacobs' words and
work. by Lisa Rochon There was a quiet revolution in the air in Toronto last fall. Hundreds of architects, planners, activists, concerned citizens, and others had come to a conference, Jane Jacobs: Ideas That Matter, to listen to and question people working on the front lines of urban reinvention. But they had also come to experience Jacobs' boundless intellect and uncommon good sense. "If you see something that is wrong, you have to hop to and try to change it," she said during a public conversation. "Don't worry about the big abstract problems that no one, not even the government, can solve. Deal with problems close to home." The revolution that burned in Toronto could never have been ignited in the dreary halls of a suburban hotel or the city's ungainly Metro Convention Centre. Instead, the logistics of the five-day event were intentionally challenging and irreverent. And Jacobs had given the conference advisory committee--which included some of Toronto's brightest architects, planners, academics, and entrepreneurs--strict orders that there should be no "windbags." They instead sought out people to talk about the work that inspires them: about empowering squatter populations in Rio de Janeiro, or reducing crime in New York's subway system, or discouraging urban sprawl. Ideas that Matter was centered around the Music Hall, a grand Victorian theater in Toronto's Greek District, recently renovated, but still with the lugubrious atmosphere of a ruin. The theater was just the beginning, however; participants were asked to do what Jacobs has for so many years: wander into the many intimate, instructive rooms of the city to understand it firsthand, empirically. So ideas were also presented in church basements, cafés, community halls, food banks, and, memorably, in canoes on the Humber River, where conference-goers observed the city's healthy population of geese, ducks, herons, and gulls. One afternoon, architect Margie Zeidler stood in an old building in downtown Toronto she had renovated to suit an eclectic mix of computer nerds, artists, and designers, and read from Jacobs' first book, The Death and Life of Great American Cities, about the value of older, low-rent buildings. Here, people could see for themselves what Jacobs had meant 36 years earlier. On the conference's first day, Ken Greenberg, a prominent Toronto urban designer who has advised cities throughout North America, described how Jacobs' influence had helped curb a brutal urban renewal program in his city. In 1968, when Jane arrived here, several historic buildings, including the old City Hall, were about to be demolished. By then, however, architects and activists were carrying around The Death and Life in their glove compartments; inspired by her call for built diversity, the demolitions were protested and, finally, stopped. In a mostly abandoned industrial district on Toronto's south edge, other members of the conference gathered to think about food. At the Field to Table warehouse--the headquarters of a sophisticated food-distribution operation--people discussed urban farming. And, like many other events at Ideas That Matter, proof was offered; in the basement of the warehouse, mushrooms were being grown in pesticide-free bags of straw. As the underground mushrooms show, the topics addressed at Ideas That Matter ranged far beyond the state of Toronto and the future of urban planning. There was room, it seemed, for almost any idea that did matter. But even when the ideas didn't start out related to Jacobs' work or legacy, they often circled around to it. And for the participants, the most important part was relating the conference--and Jacobs' work--back to their own disciplines, activism, and thoughts. For Sarah Bolger, a private consultant from Marquette, Michigan, that meant bringing back to the local community groups she advises information gleaned about urban food production. For Brian Scott, president of Liveable Oregon, an organization that promotes city revitalization, it meant taking home a message--the need to respect diversity within self-organized communities. A surprise announcement capped the conference: organizers had created the Jane Jacobs Legacy, an annual grant to be awarded to a community activist for his or her efforts to achieve something small but significant. As an additional thanks for "putting up with all the fuss," Jacobs was given something she'd always wanted: a trip in a hot air balloon. When she left the stage of the Princess of Wales Theatre after a very long standing ovation, a large image of balloons lit up the theater. It took an hour for the audience to empty into Toronto's theater district; many remained in their seats with tears in their eyes. Jacobs had inspired them all; now, at the close of the conference, it seemed they wanted to think about how they were going to "hop to" and effect their own small, manageable bits of change. |
Keywords:
Jane Jacobs, urban planning, city
