City still needs villages
Saturday, March 24th, 2007
A REAL community . . . West End is one of Brisbane’s quirkiest suburbs.
Today I went down to West End. Because there’s nowhere else in Brisbane you can quietly wander a few streets and pick up some organic ginger powder from a greengrocer, buy my happy herb supply, get a perfectly tailored suit, buy cheap fruit from the fruiterer, great bread from a Vietnamese baker, fish from a fishmonger, have a decent
coffee, acquire some advice how to keep possums off my strawberries (camphor tied in a cut-up stocking, says a Greek backyard gardener), buy a book from a real bookseller, catch up with a muso mate who lives
locally, stock up on fresh nuts, buy some original stunning recycled jewellery.
These things sound like small things, don’t they? They are not. They are the real meat-and-bones of life. They are the things that in big cities sustain us. They are intangible things, connections that grow organically. These are the things that make a village.
West End has always had real meat and bones. Its beauty has never been skin deep. From murderous beginnings, it’s grown up rough, tragic, eclectic, multicultural, creative, messy, energetic, tolerant, and not giving a damn for the superficial. Well, that “was” West End. West End is being loved to death. Its biggest problem is to be so
close to the city with – sweet Jesus! – vacant riverfront land.
“Brisbane City Council has failed dramatically in protecting any of the fundamental things that make places like West End thrive,” says Joe Hurley, a tireless community worker. “Instead of demanding the best for this city, council has welcomed any development like grateful little, hungry BrisVegas. Where’s all the low-cost housing provisions, large tracts of public or green spaces for children and older people, traffic solutions? What does West End get
out of this?”
Hurley is putting his finger on the planning blindspots. And it is these blindspots in city-making, says international urban commentator Charles Landry, that can cause dramatic economic and social damage. In
his book, The Art of City Making, Landry warns of the death of diversity and ordinary distinctiveness in modern city-making. The Englishman, who was in Brisbane this month speaking at the QUT’s Centre for Subtropical Design Centre workshops, writes that once upon a time not so long ago people used to shop on foot in their local shops.
They brought individual products from individual retailers, screws from the hardware store, meat from the butcher. Sound familiar? …..
http://www.news.com.au/couriermail/story/0,20797,21427774-23272,00.html?from=public_rss
The village in Scotland where I used to live
I can really relate to this article because when I lived in Scotland, I lived in a small village similar to West End (although not trendy). I can remember some of my first impressions of Australia when I first arrived being that there were no small neighbourhoods where you could go for a casual stroll for the morning paper or a cup of coffee. I soon discovered that I would have to get in my car if I wanted to go to the Bank or pick up a prescription from the chemist etc. I know that I am over-generalising and that there are a few remaining suburbs where you can do these things such as Bulimba, Cleveland and Manly for instance but the trend (as in the Courier-Mail article) is to modernise and expand.
Another down-side to losing villages is not being able to enjoy a sense of community where we live and I can also remember this being incredibly strong in my village in Scotland. We were a lot closer to our neighbours and actually stopped to have a chat over the fence with them. We seemed to be able to do this without living in each others’ pockets. In the suburb where I live now in Australia, I have still not even sighted many of the neighbours in the cul-de-sac, let alone have a conversation with them. I am equally to blame though, and there does not seem to be any opportunity to do so, as we all jump into our cars to do everything.
I guess also, the times are changing and the levels of crime, violence and abductions are on the increase and sadly, it no longer feels as safe to venture outside of our homes on foot. This is perhaps another reason we are losing our sense of community. In Scotland, my brother & I used to walk to school and it was a very pleasant 20 minute walk where part of it was through a local park and I will always remember seeing the grey squirrels in the park and us crunching through the autumn leaves. Nowadays, children get driven to school and such an innocent activity as walking to school is no longer deemed safe in our society.
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