Density & Atmosphere: On Factors relating to Building Density in the European City 9783035604399, 9783990435670

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Berlin

Christburger Straße

Munich

Quiddestraße

Berlin

Friedrichstraße

Vienna

Wollzeile

Munich

Im Tal

Vienna

Wollzeile

Munich

Quiddestraße

Zurich

Kanzleistraße

Berlin

Hochsitzweg

Zurich

Kanzleistraße

Zurich

Meierwiesenstraße

Zurich

Bahnhofstraße

Zurich

Spiegelgasse

Vienna

Larochegasse

DENSITY & ATMOSPHERE On Factors relating to Building Density in the European City (Ed.) Dietmar Eberle

(Author) Eberhard Tröger

Birkhäuser Basel

Contents Photo Essay by Claudia Klein The Attuned City by Dietmar Eberle 

1 18

DENSITY ANALYSES Introduction — «You just have to get through it»

26

APPROACH, METHODOLOGY, AND TERMINOLOGY 4 Cities, 36 Urban Districts, 9 Density Categories, 13 Analysis Parameters 

38

44 The Districts — 36 Urban Districts in 9 Density Categories

Density Category 1 ( < 0.4): Single-Family House Idyll 1:  46 House and Garden Density Category 2 (0.4 – 0.6): Single-Family House Idyll 2: 58 Urban Garden Cities  Density Category 3 (0.6 – 0.9): Urban Apartments in Green Areas 1: 70 Houses and Rows Density Category 4 (0.9 – 1.2): Urban Apartments in Green Areas 2: 82 Row and Courtyard Density Category 5 (1.2 – 1.5): Urban Apartments in Green Areas 3: 92 Courtyard and Garden  Density Category 6 (1.5 – 1.9): Inner-City Mixture 1:  104 Courtyard and Street  Density Category 7 (1.9 – 2.3): Inner-City Mixture 2: 114 Grids, Axes, and Squares Density Category 8 (2.3 – 2.7): Inner-City Mixture 3:  126 Historic Suburbs and City Centers  Density Category 9 ( > 2.7): Inner-City Mixture 4: 138 Commercial Centers Evaluation — Density, Atmosphere, and Numbers  Density Categories and their Parameters The Cities and their Parameters 

150 151 167

Conclusions — Density and Atmosphere The City as Social Space  The City as Residential Space  The City as Living Space

170 171 187 199

DENSITY STORIES  Berlin by Bettina Erasmy (Berlin) Only Playing by Matthias Kiefersauer (Munich)  City and Atmosphere. Impressions of Vienna by Franz Schuh (Vienna) Forest Fever by Gerhard Meister (Zurich) 

210 220 228 234

DENSITY CATALOG  Glossary of Terms



Figure-Ground Plans of the Cities 

242 246

Density Category 1 (  2.7): Inner-City Mixture 4: 479 Commercial Centers City Diagrams 

507

Biographies Photo Credits  Imprint, Acknowledgments

519 519 520

Photo Essay by Claudia Klein

521

The attuned City

Dietmar Eberle

Baptistery of the Cathedral of Brasilia

19

The Harmonious City

“And that is what is so mysterious about new cities, that initial lack of speech, just before the beginning, when the first word is still to be said. No matter what, there is always a first word.” 1 In his essay “Ex Nihilo,” on the creation of the two newly planned and constructed cities of Chandigarh in India and Brasília in ­Brazil, Dutch author Cees Nooteboom employs the word “mood” in its most literal sense. Both cities were created on the drawing board of f­amous architects and urban planners in an era when there was belief in a new world that would be “healed” by a c­ ompletely new approach to urban planning and architecture. Chandigarh was founded in 1952 as the new capital city of the Indian state of ­P unjab on an open plain near the eponymous village. The architect Le Corbusier developed the plan for the urban structure and most of the public buildings. Brasília evolved from the idealized plan of Brazilian urban planner Lúcio Costa, who designed the Plano ­Piloto with two intersecting main axes in 1956 to be constructed in the then-virgin red soil of the high plain in central ­Brazil. Today, the city is especially famous for the striking buildings by ­Oscar ­Niemeyer, who was then the director of the State Building Authority for Architecture. The aim was that the two cities would serve a forward-looking free society and organize people’s lives in this sense, implementing lasting improvements. However, anyone walking through the two hero­ ic planned cities today is struck by two factors. First, the avantgarde spirit of the architects still permeates the broad street axes and the daring building forms; it seems like a promise that — long since grown tired — still awaits its fulfillment. Second, humans and nature have settled into this artificial abstract structure, adapted to it, and re-shaped it. Nature has found its way into the city, and the mass of incoming people have surrounded it with a vast belt of pragmatic, humdrum, satellite cities and slums. The residents have raised their voices and tried to harmonize the city with their own needs and desires, at times helplessly, at times forcefully against the original intentions of the planners.

“Practice, or let us simply call it life: life as an extension of the architect, an unexpected and unpredictable henchman.” 2

20

Dietmar Eberle

In today’s democracies, cities like Chandigarh and Brasília in their radical expression all defined by a single person are no longer imaginable. And despite, or perhaps because of, their aesthetic and spatial power, they are now heavily criticized as purely intellectual exercises in urban planning. Their monumental scale makes it difficult for residents to appropriate the city for their own uses, functional separation runs counter to the natural patterns of ­daily life, and the rigid idealized structure resists adaptation to new ­requirements, to name but a few of the challenges. Yet what have planners and architects learned since then? In Europe, at least, few cities are erected on virgin building land, but even in Central Europe, urban expansion is growing rap­ idly. New residential districts and office complexes are being built in central locations and also on the proverbial “green meadow” on the urban periphery. Construction site panels and glossy advertisements promise a forward-looking and better life in these districts. But the rapid rise in area use associated with these expansions is not caused by excessive population growth; it is spurred on by the higher demands of residents and the constant increase in the demand for living space per resident. 3 Migration between ­regions and states and between rural and urban areas, which leads to ­i ncreased traffic and urban sprawl, are also highly influential factors. And the expansion of the transportation network makes faster connections possible between locations that were once far apart. Mobility has become the key issue in the appearance of our settlement areas. It promotes the dissolution of a traditional view of the clearly delineated city; across large areas it leads to very low building densities, which are neither city nor country and are instead described with somewhat vague terms such “agglom­ eration,” “urban sprawl,” “urban landscape,” or “in-between city.” ­Simultaneously there is a demographic shift in the social ­structure in the Central European city. The average age of the population is rising. 4 The number of households with only one to two inhabitants is predominant in cites, while agglomerations are by and large home to small families with usually just one child. These factors, along with decentralized work opportunities, change the demands made on our built environment. In addition to a dense public transportation network, walkability scores to key services such as schools, childcare, and shopping are becoming increasingly important. In other words, a reduction of the true distances is indispensable. However, this can only be achieved through an a­ ppropriate building density, which is the key parameter for city planning. The density is calculated on the basis of the floor area ratio, which in this book

21

The Harmonious City

is applied for the first time to the totality of a defined urban area, including its public spaces. Thematically, the term “density” as it is used here is understood as land use in relation to social use on an individual basis. Which density corresponds to which society and how does it affect the atmosphere of a district? That is the fundamental question explored in this book. For atmosphere as subjective percep­ tion of the urban environment is the basis for the acceptance of a ­d istrict, whether it is a newly built district or an existing district undergoing conversion or regeneration.

“Architecture sketches are always silent, whereas cities never are.” 5 Anyone trying to walk under the blazing sun across Brasília’s vast axes, from one of the large buildings blocks to another set some distance away, is likely to get lost in the monumental scale of this ­u rban structure. At their drafting tables in far away Rio de ­Janeiro, Costa and Niemeyer had put their faith in the automobile as the individual, autonomous, and rapid mode of transportation of the future and had conceived Brasília as the model city for this life of the future. To this day, the structure of many European cities is characterized by the same belief — a belief now contradicted by the changed requirements of contemporary society. This book seeks to investigate and trace the relationship be­ tween building density and atmosphere in Central European cities. Its working thesis is: Density determines the atmosphere and char­ acter of an urban district. However, the data on this relationship are still sparse, and analysis tends to be only quantitative. There is still a lack of q ­ ualitative analysis. Until now, it has hardly been possible to ­provide clear answers as to the quality of this relationship. This comprehensive study is therefore focused on correlating the hard facts and objectively measurable factors to the subjective perception of ­atmosphere. To this end, nine density categories are defined and a specific char­ acter is then assigned to each category. In order for this approach to be useful for research, c­ learly ­defined parameters for classification and evaluation are required. Meaningful analysis factors and deliberately comprehensive data are therefore employed to study existing districts from different periods in the four example cities: Berlin, Munich, Vienna, and Zurich. The atmospheres of the various districts in the four cities

22

Dietmar Eberle

are described and then evaluated with regard to their influence on the mood of an urban district. This is a holistic approach to urban spaces with clearly delineated perimeters. The approach leads to the identification of criteria that can help to provide the conceptual basis for creating a suitable atmosphere when planning future districts or for processes of densification or conversion of existing urban structures. For, in the future, qualitative topics in urban ­development and the subjective perception as a social component will become ever more important. Persons as residents remain the measure of things. In his ­essay, Cees Nooteboom is interested in the two planned cities of Brasília and Chandigarh because they were created ex nihilo — out of nothing — and because the planners had to discover their own criteria for the cities’ structures. As a synonym for the fleeting and elusive phenomenon of atmosphere, he employs the notion of “mood” in a literal sense, with persons taking center stage as ­social beings capable of communication. By raising their voice in the space of the city, the residents establish a relationship between planning and reality, between drawing and human being. They set the mood in their environment. This study therefore focuses on the public space as a common area for leisure, meeting, and communication. It is in the public space that the qualities of a district are measured, and that is where its specific atmosphere emerges. This book aims to make a fundamental contribution toward finding a planning language that will set the mood in new cities even before they are built, and to help them develop a harmonious atmosphere once they are built — step by step and word by word.

“A city is the accumulation of everything that has ever been said there, every word spoken, a proclamation, an outcry, a death sentence, a prayer, the whispering of lovers, the groans of the sick, a drunken argument, a parade with chants and songs: all of these sounds combine to form a ceaseless litany that has always accompanied the history of the city over the centuries, and continues to do so, a conversation that will never end as long as the city con­ tinues to exist.” 6

23

The Harmonious City

1 Cees Nooteboom, “EX NIHILO: A Tale of two Cities” in Iwan Baan, BrasiliaChandigarh: Living with Modernity (Lars Müller, 2010), translator of Nooteboom essay Laura Wilkinson, p. 114. 2 Ibid., p. 118. 3 In Switzerland, for example, the demand for living space per resident has increased over the past 30 years from 34 to 45 square meters per resident, that is, by a factor of 1.3. 4 More than half of the population is over 40 years of age in Switzerland, for example, and the trend is rising. 5 Nooteboom, op. cit. p. 111. 6 Nooteboom, op. cit., pp. 112f.

DENSITY ANALYSES  Introduction,  Approach, Methodology, and Terminology,  The Districts,   Evaluation,  Conclusions (p. 26)

(p. 38)

(p. 44)

(p. 150)

(p. 170)

Introduction

“You just have to get through it”

1

27 The spatial expanse of urban development in Central Europe is steadily growing. This creates a fear of losing natural landscape areas and precious land resources. At the same time, we bemoan a dearth of atmospheric ambience in our unstructured and sprawling cities. We have tolerated unfettered urban sprawl as a necessary evil for too long. The calls for new limits and urban densification can now no longer be ignored. Nevertheless, we are unwilling to foresake individuality and growth.

“You just have to get through it”

1 Gerhard Polt, “Die Wegbeschreibung” (“Directions”), in “Fast wia im richtigen Leben” (“Almost Like in Real Life”), tenth episode, Bayerischer Rundfunk, 10 December 1984.

The discussion on the extent of urban density in our cities is a central topic in the daily press and trade journals. What is lacking, however, are measurable criteria with which to choose the correct density for each respective situation. By establishing a relationship between urban density and atmosphere, this book aims to establish the foundations for a new integrated design of our urban spaces. Butterflies, Gravel Pits and Dreams of a Home

“Come on out for a change. You’ll see it’s real nice here in the country. Why don’t you come on out sometime, so you can also get to see a butterfly? It’s beautiful here. It’s a green belt, you know…”2 In his 1984 piece “Die Wegbeschreibung” (Driving Directions), Bavarian comedian and satirist Gerhard Polt described with merciless accuracy what has long since become a daily reality for many Europeans: Mr. König, the main protagonist played by Polt, has moved into a new small row house on the periphery of Munich and gives his friend Hilde directions on how to drive from the city to his new place “in the country” for a visit. The route involves numerous highway ramps, and travels past high-rise developments, mixed-use areas, gravel pits, industrial parks and single-family home subdivisions until finally arriving at the much praised row house with a tiny patch of green in the front yard. Hilde’s journey turns into an expedition through the urban sprawl that makes up much of the contemporary cityscape. Polt succinctly identifies the key issues with which those responsible for city and land-use planning wrestle more than ever today.

2 Ibid. All following quotes without footnotes are from the same source.

“Anyways … after the trailer park, you’ll drive towards a shredding facility, ok … and next door there’s a hazardous waste disposal plant. But you can’t drive in there, you know, anyways you have to go past it on the right. Then it’s gonna start getting a bit more rural. You’ll start to feel that you’re getting away from the city.” Mr. König’s driving directions through the agglomeration derives its playful malice from the close observation of the realities of urban planning (in the film footage, an actress is shown driving the route in real time, precisely as described)* and the optimistic enthusiasm the fictional new homeowner shows for these environments. High-rise developments are called “Am Jagdfeld” (Hunting Grounds), churches look like “chimney stacks”, and young families live between a big box-furniture store and a truck manufacturing plant in the “second set” of new high-rises. As for the industrial areas, well, “you just have to get through” them. None of these absurdities can rattle Mr. König’s un­ shakeable optimism. On the contrary, he waxes enthusiastically about giant hydro towers and a concrete plant with “all the bells and whistles”.

* Thirty years after Gerhard Polt’s “Wegbeschreibung” (lit. “Driving Directions”) was first published in 1984, we reconstructed and once again followed Hilde’s route from the ring road to the rowhouse idyll through the agglomeration surrounding Munich. The series of photographs accompanying this chapter were taken during this drive in 2014 and documents the current state of the ongoing development of our cultural landscape in all its facets.

28

Introduction

Even the massive jumps in scale with regard to form and content fail to shake his equilibrium. At least the Zaunkönigstraße (named after a tiny song-bird called “the king of the fence”) serves as an orientation, and the custom-made “brass doorknob” adorning the otherwise mass-produced row house serves as a kind of anchor in the confusing “hodgepodge” of the late-capitalist urban landscape.

“I’m not really into country life, you know, but it’s so much better for the children … Right now, we’re still a little out of the way here. But in a year and a half, it’s all gonna change, ’cause they’re expanding the highway to six lanes, right to our doorstep. Then it’s gonna be a cinch to get into the city, you know…” In all this, as a new resident on the periphery, Mr. König is not even “into country life”. It’s all for the children, and soon the expansion of the six-lane highway will rescue him from the remoteness of this “rural” row-house idyll. The functions of the city are tidily separated from each other; without a car, the suburban dweller is lost in the ever-expanding sea of urban sprawl. Polt’s darkly humorous narrative reveals the deep yearning of postmodern individuals for a place to call their own in this world of constantly growing possibilities. Everything has to remain available, and to this end people are willing to put up with quite a bit. This is why the row-house dweller can summon enthusiasm even for massive warehouses and truck manufacturing plants. They are the economic guarantors for his rural idyll with city links. As such, the necessities that evoke admiration, or at the very least have to be tolerated, are neither ugly nor beautiful, but simply “enormous”. Based on this type of acceptance, optimis­tically geared towards ensuring one’s personal wellbeing, a new kind of residential development has steadily spread since the 1970s, aptly and bluntly described by Polt as “hodgepodge”, while contemporary planning experts refer to it as “urban sprawl”. It is neither city nor country, but forms a third category which springs precisely from this yearning, seeking to satisfy as many of the constantly increasing demands as possible, and all the while tolerating the means required to achieve this state of affairs as a necessary evil.

“Keep going… Then there’s another industrial park.” However, aspiring for ever more naturally has its limits. The resources of land, raw materials and energy are not inexhaustible, and after decades of tolerating the means in favor of economic growth3 a plateau in the meantime seems to have been reached for clients, planners, communities and residents, which has lead to an urgent quest for alternative solutions for coping with population growth, the rise in economic spending power and the attendant desire for ever more living space. 4 At the same time, the demand for sustainability is omnipresent and impossible to ignore. But our economic system is avaricious, and attempts are underway to productively appropriate this nebulously defined term. Sustainability is “in”, but only if it doesn’t require any sacrifices.

“And then you drive through one of those commercial mixed-use areas … Well, it’s a bit of a hodgepodge …” However, the “hodgepodge” style of housing that goes hand in hand with this attitude cannot deliver on the ideal of a less fettered lifestyle

3 In the interest of ensuring quick and economically efficient land use, there was for a long time a practice of failing to draft comprehensive and forwardlooking spatial plans. This inadvertently promoted the creation of precisely the kind of urban “patchwork” of individual spatial plans without any overarching integration that Gerhard Polt describes so aptly in his “Driving Directions”. 4 Living space requirement grows exponentially to population growth. For example: whilst the population of Switzerland has grown from roughly 6.3 million in 1980 to 8.2 million in 2013 (source: Federal Statistical Office, Switzerland), thus experiencing a growth factor of 1.3, the requirement for individual living space has grown from 34 to 45 square meters over the same period by approximately the same factor.

29 for free consumers in a landscape of constant growth. The “country life” does not play out in the green belt filled with fluttering butterflies invoked by Polt’s protagonist. Instead of colorful insects, airplanes thunder over a carpet of row houses, high-rise developments, old town cores, industrial complexes and the wastelands that lie between. And the “six-lane highway” has morphed from a traffic solution to a traffic and energy problem. It generates kilometer-long traffic jams, environmental pollution and exorbitant maintenance costs. This discrepancy between demand, yearning, and reality is increasingly worrisome to urban planners. In addition to the destruction of valuable resources, they bemoan the lack of a sense of place, the structural isolation and the absence of atmospheric qualities. As a result we are engaged in a desperate quest for workable urban forms of societal and social cohesion and a desirable urban form for the future.

“Now, you’ve pretty much arrived… And there it is: ‘In the Meadow’… You can’t miss our place, ’cause we’ve got a brass doorknob…” In this quest, it is the “soft factors” of subjective urban perception and experience — such as well-being, urban character, identity, quality of living and atmosphere — which are becoming once again prized in affluent Central-European society, occupying an equal position with the more objectively measurable values of urban planning. The wish, ideally, is to incorporate atmospheric factors into planning in order to create a more agreeable local district atmosphere. However, these factors are somewhat difficult to evaluate and describe: after all, they are first and foremost dependent on the subjective perception of individual resi­dents or passers-by, and cannot be quantified in a more general or universal manner. Yet suitable solutions for larger urban areas must achieve a broad consensus among residents. Not everyone is content with a polished “brass doorknob” as an individual site marker within an increasingly complex world. Conversely, certain combinations of objects with specific qualities are indeed able to create continually recurring atmospheres that reach beyond subjective individual perception to be roughly interpreted in the same way by the majority of residents. Building density could be one of the main criteria by which to generate this kind of “objectively perceptible atmosphere.” Polt’s “Driving Directions” dates from 1984. Three decades of growth and much procrastination later, it seems that we are finally forced to no longer tolerate the mentality of “you’ve just got to get through it” and are asking the fundamental questions we have thus far avoided, such as how and how densely we want to dwell in our growing cities.

“You’re coming, right? We’re so excited!” “Wouldn’t you just love it?” The problem of the idealization of demands with regard to one’s personal living environment is hardly new, for it is intimately connected to modern society and its striving for individuality and affluence. Nearly a century ago, at the time of the so-called classic modernism at the end of the 1920s, another prominent German satirist whose wit was no less acerbic and amusing than Polt’s perfectly captured the mounting ambitions and demands of the population at large. Kurt Tucholsky

“You just have to get through it”

30

Introduction

described the ideal of the German bourgeoisie striving for evermore wealth in his poem “The Ideal” from 1927:

Ja, das möchste – Wouldn’t you just love it? A villa with large terrace in the country, The Baltic out front and the Friedrichstraße out back; A beautiful view, fashionably rustic, With a glimpse of the Zugspitze from your bathroom But only a short walk to the movies at night. All of it simple, and oh so modest: Nine rooms – no, make that ten! A roof patio with oak trees standing tall, Radio, central heating, vacuum cleaner, Servants, obedient and silent, A sweet wife, full of spirit and passion (And another for weekends, just in case) A library and all around Solitude and bumblebees buzzing. In the stables: two ponies, four thoroughbreds, Eight cars, a motorcycle – with you at the wheel, Of course – that goes without saying! And in between you go hunting big game. 
 But wait, I nearly forgot:
 Haute cuisine – the best of the best – Vintage wines poured from a beautiful decanter – 
 And you will remain as thin as a rail. 
 And money. And just the right amount of jewelry. 
 And another million and then another million. 
 And travel. The jolly kaleidoscope of life. 
 And splendid children. And everlasting health. Wouldn’t you just love it! But here is how things are on this earth: 
 At times it seems that earthly happiness Is only doled out peu à peu. One bit or another is always missing. 
 When you’ve got money, you’ve got no Molly*; When you’ve got the girl, you’re out of dough – When you’ve got the geisha, you’re bothered by her fan:
 We may have the wine but no cup, or the cup but no wine. There’s always something. Take heart. All happiness comes with a sting. 
 We want so much: To have. To be. And to count.
 For someone to have it all: 
 That is rare. Who wouldn’t love such a comfortable life in a “villa with large terrace in the country, the Baltic out front and the Friedrichstraße out back”? Ever since a broad sector of the population began to be able to dream this dream thanks to growing wealth, the desired villa has become for most at best a prefab single-family home, striving for individuality through bright colors and shapes, and seeking to compensate for

* Molly: a female name, also used in slang to describe the ideal girlfriend. “Utter perfection. If you let this girl into your life you will never regret it, she’s incredible and so beautiful, everyone should have a Molly.” [source: urbandictionary. com]

31

“You just have to get through it”

the poor quality of the external environment through technical upgrades of the interior spaces. Instead of gazing at the Baltic Sea from our patio, we sit in our air-conditioned homes in front of our very own multimedia systems and take the odd weekend excursion to recreation areas marred by high-tension lines overhead. And if we have the desire every now and then to take in a movie on downtown Friedrichstraße, we are dependent on a highway or at the very least on a bus or train connection. The mobility associated with this lifestyle is another steadily increasing challenge in today’s urban planning. Road and public transportation networks are constantly being expanded and have become key positioning factors for land use and development. Thus a house that was until recently still an hour’s distance from the commercial center of the nearest city, is suddenly within a travel range of only fifteen minutes thanks to a commuter rail link, which in turn ushers in a rapid and noticeable transformation of the built environment around the house and the mix of residents. How can contemporary urban planning respond to this complex mix of vastly different ingredients? Various approaches — from Gründerzeit5 block-edge developments, to modernistic row housing or compact housing blocks modeled on late modernism, to new high-rise districts — all are being simultaneously exploited by today’s urban planners. The debates accompanying these approaches are testimony to the nervous helplessness in the quest for an up-to-date image of the city. Today, planners unanimously condemn sprawling carpet developments of single-family homes and demand “urban densification”. However, the form and quality of such densification remains unclear, and convincing solutions are in high demand.

5 The Gründerzeit (lit. Founding Epoch) is the term used to describe the period of rapid industrial and urban expansion in Germany and Austria (i.e. Central Europe) in the latter half of the nineteenth century, interrupted by the stock market crash of 1873. In terms of urban planning it includes the new factor of rapid mass transportation and vehicle-friendly (i.e. broad) streetscaping, and in architectural terms it roughly corresponds with the various historicist architectural styles in Great Britain and the United States that are understood under the description Victorian Era.

Magic Formulae It was precisely during Tucholsky’s era6 that the visionaries of the architectural modern were confronted with similar problems. On the one hand, the population at large had, even then, already begun making increasingly individualized demands on their living environments. On the other, cities were faced with the massive social, infrastructural and public health challenges arising from exploding population numbers in the cities due to the rural exodus. Paradoxically, with their all too idealistic responses they unwittingly prepared the ground for the amorphous new development structure, which once again now confronts us with the same fundamental question as then: how can cities

6 Tucholsky’s poem “Das Ideal” (“The Ideal”) dates from 1927; the Athens Charter was launched in 1933.

grow quickly and sustainably, while being and remaining worth living in?

The members of CIAM (Congrés Internationaux d’Architecture Modern or International Congresses of Modern Architecture) once dreamt courageously and confidently of a completely new city that would solve all problems in a single stroke. In 1933, under the leadership of Le Corbusier, they drafted their urbanist manifesto The Athens Charter,7 which ushered in an entirely new vision of the city. Upon re-reading the text today, one discovers striking parallels with the problems of the current urbanist debate, albeit seen in terms, some of which are the exact opposite of currently held views. The charter contains the following core statements or observations on the status quo of cities at the time of its drafting.

7 Le Corbusier, The Athens Charter (Grossman: New York, NY, 1973), translated from the French by Anthony Eardley. All subsequent quotations in the English edition of this book are taken from this translation.

32 On Densification:

Observation 8: “The advent of the machinist era has provoked immense disturbances in the conduct of men, in the patterns of their distribution over the earth’s surface and in their undertakings: an unchecked trend, propelled by mechanized speeds, toward concentration in the cities, a precipitate and world-wide evolution without precedent in history. Chaos has entered the cities.” Observation 9: “The population is too dense within the historic nuclei of cities, as it is in certain belts of nineteenthcentury industrial expansion — reaching as many as four hundred and even six hundred inhabitants per acre.”

In the charter, the problem of unstructured agglomeration and urban sprawl is lamented as follows:

Observation 11: “The growth of the city gradually devours the surrounding verdant areas of which its successive belts once had a view.”

Observation 20: “The suburbs are laid out without any plan and without a normal connection to the city.” And the charter identifies the social and psychological problems of the city at the time:

Observation 71: “The majority of the cities studied [by the Fourth Congress] today present the very image of chaos: they do not at all fulfill their purpose, which is to satisfy the primordial biological and psychological needs of their populations.” Observation 72: “This situation reveals the incessant accretion of private interests ever since the beginning of the machinist age.”

Based on all these observations, the CIAM conference draws the following highly political conclusion in its final observation:

Observation 95: “Private interest will be subordinated to the collective interest.” As we know today, it was somewhat premature to formulate this observation as a certainty at that time. Socialist models of society were unable to satisfy this urgent wish despite enormous efforts. And globalized western consumer society is confronted more than ever by the barely controllable “incessant accretion of private interests”. Nevertheless, the CIAM Charter has shaped and changed the image of our cities and landscapes more enduringly than any other twent­ ieth-century manifesto. The most urgent problem of the day at the time was excessive density in urban cores, which led to social, hygiene and the associated health problems, and which allowed the cities to grow with a hitherto unknown speed — like metastasizing tumors spreading across the surrounding landscape. The fear of chaos, which gripped a large proportion of the society at the time, prompted people to call for radical answers. The malignant tumor was to be excised to make way for an ordered and healthy

Introduction

33

“You just have to get through it”

configuration in which people could dwell peacefully. Thus architects, too, embarked on a quest for a magic formula to provide a solution for the social and urbanistic tasks ahead. The charter did so in a manifesto-like form, stating concrete observations and requirements: The formula for spatial planning:

Requirement 1: “The city is only one element within the economic, social and political complex which constitutes the region.”

The formula for architecture:

Requirement 29: “High buildings, set far apart from one another, must free the ground for broad verdant areas.”

The formula for urban planning:

Requirement 32: “A just proportion of constructed volumes to open spaces — that is the only formula which resolves the problem of habitation.”

The distribution of the building masses in their relationship to the open, unbuilt area (which should ideally be natural area) was recognized as the decisive factor in finding a solution for the problem of allowing cities to grow rapidly in a sustainable fashion. Every resident was to be given the opportunity to lead a healthy life with light, air and sun in a green environment. The fathers of the charter regarded the specific density of the built environment as the magic formula for the future of cities. The requirements or demands developed as a conclusion from these observations are widely known. The uncontrolled and unstructured sprawl of city clusters was to be untangled, organized and divided according to basic functions — housing, leisure, work, traffic and the historic heritage of the cities. As a connecting system, transportation was given a central role, for the new buildings were to concentrate as much building mass as possible on a relatively small footprint 8 and leave a large space open for fresh air and sun, which translated into long routes between not only the buildings themselves but also between the functions — between home, work, shopping and cultural institutions. In keeping with the logic of the “machinist age”, autonomous “habi­ tation machines” strung along supply chains were to be embedded into the landscape. Movement between the building units, some at considerable distance from each other, was to be by motorized transportation of some kind. However, to begin with the implementation of this magic formula seemed unthinkable as it would have required massive demolition and expropriation in the cities. Only with the large-scale destruction of the Second World War and the sweeping political changes that followed the war could the CIAM ideas be more broadly realized in the wake of recons truction in the eastern-socialist as well as the western-capitalist system. But the formula would appear to have failed. The new urban structures encouraged the formation of islands of urban development, which continue to characterize the structure of the expansion zones of our cities to this day. Instead of a built continuum of the European city, historically built around a central core, what emerged was a web of traffic net­­works along which an extremely heterogeneous built environment spreads outward into the landscape without any discernable center or core.

8 In comparison to the scale of the buildings, the footprint of the built-over area is very small.

34

The fundamental urban planning issues, however, seem to be the same as in the era of Le Corbusier. Issues like the form of the rapidly expanding city, the separation of housing developments and landscape, the distribution of private and public space, and the functional organi­ zation of the city are once again on everyone’s lips. Today the solution for these problems is being sought in the “correct ratio of building mass to open space”. 9 However, where the focus in the charter was on open, that is, unbuilt space, the new magic formula for urban planning is seen in densification and mixed use.

Introduction

9 Le Corbusier, The Athens Charter, observation 32.

Densification – Phobia, Compulsion and Lifestyle Calls for densification have been growing ever more urgent in recent times, born out of a fear of the unchecked growth of agglomerations, which are randomly spreading across the landscape and no longer reflect any social ideals. These demands are falling on willing ears, not only because of arguments of land and energy conservation. For some time now urban planners and architects in particular have idealized the lose term “urbanity”10 as the definitive up-to-date form of living without precisely stating what this mostly subjective and rather vague term means. Contrary to the ideas put forth in the Charter of Athens, today’s planners identify the qualities of urban life not in having access to fresh air and nature, but instead in appropriately compact developments with the highest possible density. In addition to limiting the area for development, density in the built environment as a deliberate “(re-)urbanization” is intended to lead to greater social density and integration within cities, and to counteract the self-centeredness of individualization and privatization. After the failures of the divided, dispersed city of the modern era and the formalistic experiments of post-modernism, the new approach to solving the problems in many places is to return to the traditional European image of the city. The block edge with uniform eaves height, a hallmark of the Gründerzeit, or the model of medieval lanes are being rediscovered as capable of providing solutions for con­temporary societal constellations. Others continue to support the ideals promoted by modernism, namely the demands for green surroundings, air, light and sun. Regardless of which traditional form is referenced, everyone’s hopes are based — as if caught in a kind of a psychological compulsive repetition — on a belief that the reiteration of old patterns may deliver a new valid solution.11 But as far back as the 1960s planners and residents alike no longer blamed the failure of modern urban ideals on a technical and functional failure of the urban fabric that was part of the charter’s criticisms. On the contrary, they blamed it on the new “inhospitality of our cities”,12 which resulted precisely from the lack of human scale caused by the functional separation demanded by CIAM, and which in turn led to an inhospitable, technical atmosphere in many cities. In order to enable sustainable growth for our cities, renewed densification and mixed-use initiatives for existing structures seem inevitable. Restructuring towards densification is underway everywhere — in organically evolved urban structures, on the peripheries, and in agglomerations. These efforts are driven by various causes. On the one hand are the hard facts: the consumption of land cannot continue unlimited at the ever-increasing pace we have experienced until now.13 Distances and traffic flows have to be be shortened to

10 For further detail on this term, see the section on “urbanity” in the chapter “ 4 Cities, 36 Urban Perimeters, 13 Analytical Perimeters, 9 Density Categories”

11 In psychoanalysis, compulsive repetition is described as an impulse that causes a person to re-enact unresolved and even painful thoughts, actions, dreams, games, scenes or situations again and again in the hope of achieving a “belated mastery”, that is, in the hope of effecting a positive outcome. 12 Alexander Mitscherlich, Die Unwirt­ lichkeit unserer Städte: Anstiftung zum Unfrieden (Suhrkamp: Frankfurt am Main, 1965). 13 Thus the factor of urban permeation (UP) in Switzerland has increased by a factor of 1.5, from 2.75 UP in 1960 to 4.24 in 2002. The annual increase of sprawl is growing rapidly. Between 2002 and 2010, with 0.032 permeation units (in German DSE)/m2/year, the rise was nearly three times that of the period between 1980 and 2002 at 0.012 DSE/ m2/year. Source: Geomatik Schweiz 3/2007 and 2/2013.

35 save resources. By placing houses and residential units once again closer together, energetic synergies can be utilized. And the wastelands of (post)modern urban development could be used as available building land for retroactive densification. On the other hand are the soft factors, which have to be given at least equal weight. These are social coexistence, the city as community, and last but not least the individual experiential value of urban space, a sense of identity and of feeling at home. But what can densification in these areas truly achieve? And how much densitity translates into the desired goals? For not everyone in contemporary society wishes to live in an environment of compact physical and social density. Density and individualization have a relationship that is fundamentally determined by a phobia. Our liberal lifestyle requires a fitting distance to neighbors to prevent any kind of “social density stress”. The calming effect of green space in a city is a key achievement of modern urban planning and the integration of individuals into the public space are as important as ever and seemingly indispensable to contemporary requirements for work and living. The Right Measure Currently different approaches are being pursued simultaneously in differing locations and urban situations in Central-European cities. In residential districts and on urban peripheries, planners are searching for a structure that combines the advantage of density with the advantages of a green and spacious city environment. In central locations, experiments are underway using maximum density, optimizing architectural and social attractions in order to create a dense urban atmosphere in the inner cities without going beyond the limits of what the population will tolerate. To establish the right measure of density for the different locations and social groups, comprehensible foundations need to be created by which to set objectively measurable factors in urban planning in relation to subjective perception. This book explores the relationships between built density and atmosphere, and presents these relationships in a clear format. A central question looks at the influence of built density on the atmosphere of a city and its districts, and looks at which additional factors must be taken into consideration to deliberately generate a coherent atmosphere. This having been said, it is not a question of arriving at universal magic formulae. Instead an interpretative analysis of the measurable factors is set in relationship to the subjective perception of the urban space. The aim is to create tangible foundations for the comprehensive planning of new urban districts and the retroactive densification of existing structures — foundations that promote an active atmospheric mood in a district and create a dense atmosphere in the urban space that goes beyond the fatalist mentality of “just having to get through it”. In the Atmosphere of the Street The focus of this study is on public space. This is where the density of the built environment is spatially palpable. This is where the elements of the city converge in a shared space. This is where communal

“You just have to get through it”

36 urban life takes place. And, finally, this is where the atmosphere of a district or an entire city is created. The term “atmosphere” is derived from the Greek words atmós (which means air, pressure, steam) and sfaira (or sphere). It describes the gaseous envelope that surrounds a celestial body, usually consisting of a mix of various gases held in place by the gravitational force of the body. The atmosphere is at its densest at the surface; at greater heights, it transitions fluidly into interplanetary space. This physical definition has much in common with the other meaning of the term, namely atmosphere as the sensory mood or ambience of a location or a space. We also describe the Earth’s atmosphere in physical terms. And the atmosphere that is discussed in this book could be described as the atmosphere of a site. Similarly to the Earth’s atmosphere, it too is composed of a “mix of various gases”, in this case the differing sensory “emanations” of the space, the objects within it, and of the people and their social actions as a whole. Each object and every person radiates uniquely characteristic sensory impressions, which in turn trigger unique and subjective perceptions in those who discern this mixture. Every object, every house, every tree and every human being has their own appearance, their own expression, scent and sound that feels unique. This atmosphere is also referred to as an “aura”. The atmosphere of a city is composed of the many different auratic emanations of its individual elements, which, in turn, form what one might call the “atmospheric gaseous mix” of the city and its districts. Atmosphere is our first — and fastest — perception of a space. An urban space is a highly complex web of many individual components. Nevertheless, we usually absorb it immediately and with all our senses: when we step into the space of a street or square, we form an intuitive impression of its appearance and scale, which triggers a subconscious chain of associations without having consciously grasped every detail. At the same time we hear the width or narrowness of the space, and the composition of its materials, without being able to consciously describe this sound. At the same time, the scent of a space may awaken memories in us, which remind us an entirely different, distant situation. All this occurs in the selfsame initial blink of an eye. From this mix of sensory perceptions, we develop a sense of the space, which we have difficulty in grasping more precisely and tend to simply speak of as “atmosphere”. However, this preconceived mood will often determine whether we like a room or an individual object, whether we use it intuitively relaxed and feel comfortable in relation to it. All this is based on a sensory code, through which we communicate with the space. In order to deliberately create an atmosphere, it is therefore of upmost importance to discover how its code functions. To this end, one must analyze and understand the precise composition of the individual elements in order to produce the correct mix of sensory perceptions. The concept of density plays an important role in this process. As in the context of a planet, it is highest in proximity to the physical mass and diminishes with increasing distance. One could say that a high degree of built density also create a dense atmosphere. However in the subjective meaning of the concept of atmosphere as a sensory mood in a space, atmospheric density is not primarily dependent on

Introduction

37 the high concentration of building masses, but on the balanced mix of a multitude of sensory impressions, which create a certain sensory density in the perception of the city. We step into the atmosphere of a street and sense whether we like it or whether there is a discrepancy or dissonance between the space and ourselves. This book presents an analytical exploration of the relationship between built density and atmosphere to facilitate a new drafting of fundamental principles for the creation of harmonious dense atmospheres in our cities, about which their inhabitants can say:

“It’s lovely here.”

“You just have to get through it”

Approach, Metho­dology, and Terminology

4 Cities, 36 Urban Districts, 9 Density Categories, 13 Analysis Parameters

39 The current debate on the necessity of densification and the appropriate degree of density in our settlements always encompasses the question of the gain in quality of life associated with it and the resulting atmosphere. The core question that underlies this book is: what is the specific relationship in an

urban district between building density and atmosphere?

The first step toward determining an answer to this question is to define nine density factors and to classify them in nine categories. Within this matrix, 36 districts, or perimeters, in four Central European cities are examined according to 13 analysis para­ meters, compared, and finally related to the image and the prevailing atmosphere in each perimeter. In this chapter, the key terms are explained and the methodology and approach are described.

Density The term density is employed in a dual, deliberately ambiguous sense: on the one hand as building density, to which the nine density categories in this study refer. This is defined as the distribution of the built fabric in relation to a limited urban space.1 The key value for this density is the floor area ratio. 2 The atmospheric density, on the other hand, signifies the intensity of the sensory perception and the specific mood in the exterior spaces of the selected perimeters in each city. This includes visual, acoustic, tactile, and olfactory stimuli, as well as the total image of the relevant district and how social life in the district is perceived. One could also describe this aspect as the “perceived density”. 3 The connection between these two terms is the subject of this book.

Metho­dology and Terminology The Density Factors Building density is calculated on the basis of the floor area ratio (FAR) values; the way this is calculated is not identical in all European cities and countries. Therefore, in this book, it is not calculated in the usual way, from the ratio between the sum of the floor areas of a building and the corresponding private lot area; instead, it takes the entire area of a defined urban perimeter 4 as a reference. The values described as density factors are therefore calculated from the sum of the floor areas of all buildings within the perimeter in relation to the total area of the same perimeter: Sum of floor areas of all buildings Sum of total area of the urban perimeter

 =  density factor

This approach takes into consideration not only the areas of the private lots, but also the area covered by the public street space, squares, and parks, which are all included in the calculation. Thus the resulting density factor provides reliable information on the actual building density in the totality of an urban perimeter. Public space plays a special role in this calculation, since it has a significant impact on the density factor.

40 The Nine Density Categories The density categories form the backbone of this study. Based on the density factors, nine density categories are defined. Each density category encompasses a certain range of density factors, determining the degree of density in the assigned perimeters: Density category 1

density factors of less than 0.4 Density category 2

density factors from 0.4 — 0.6 Density category 3

density factors from 0.6 — 0.9 Density category 4

density factors from 0.9 — 1.2

Approach The Four Cities To ensure clear comparability, four European cities from German-speaking countries were selected for this study:

Berlin Munich Vienna Zurich Although these four cities differ considerably in terms of total area and population, they neverthe­less share a comparable historic and cultural background, similar settlement structures, and homogeneous lifestyles and demands among the residents.

Density category 5

density factors from 1.2 — 1.5 Density category 6

density factors from 1.5 — 1.9 Density category 7

density factors from 1.9 — 2.3 Density category 8

density factors from 2.3 — 2.7 Density category 9

density factors above 2.7 One perimeter per city was defined as analysis area in each density category. 5 In this manner, one perimeter each from four cities is analyzed per density category. This approach makes it possible to compare different urban planning patterns from different periods and in different contexts, but with similar building density. The relative consistency of the building density within each category makes it possible, in turn, to draw conclusions with regard to the influence of the building density on the atmosphere in the district. Does building density alone determine atmosphere to a large extent? What other factors are similarly influential in this regard? 6

The 36 Urban Districts Nine urban perimeters or districts were selected in each of the four cities for the analysis. Each perimeter is a clearly delineated district within the city, and encompasses private land parcels as well as public streets, parks, and squares. Each of these perimeters is assigned to a density category. In the book, the perimeters are therefore identified as follows (density factor in parentheses):

41 Density category 1

Berlin — Privatstraße (0.23) Munich — Waldstraße (0.36) Vienna — Schippergasse (0.31) Zurich — Im Heimgärtli (0.30) Density category 2

Berlin — Drakestraße (0.41) Munich — Reindlstraße (0.47) Vienna — Pilotengasse (0.43) Zurich — Schlösslistraße (0.44)

Density category 3

Berlin — Hochsitzweg (0.63) Munich — Quiddestraße (0.80) Vienna — Larochegasse (0.70) Zurich — Altwiesenstraße (0.61) Density category 4

Berlin — Goebelstraße (0.93) Munich — Konrad-Dreher-Straße (1.03) Vienna — Prinzgasse (1.01) Zurich — Meierwiesenstraße (1.18) Density category 5

Berlin — Senftenberger Ring (1.44) Munich — Holbeinstraße (1.37) Vienna — Ringofenweg (1.31) Zurich — Scheuchzerstraße (1.28) Density category 6

Berlin — Bonner Straße (1.53) Munich — Tumblinerstraße (1.78) Vienna — Hasnerstraße (1.62) Zurich — Bändliweg (1.55) Density category 7

Berlin — Christburger Straße (2.12) Munich — Pariser Platz (2.02) Vienna — Fockygasse (1.96) Zurich — Kanzleistraße (1.96) Density category 8

Berlin — Raabestraße (2.33) Munich — Im Tal (2.62) Vienna — Hahngasse (2.49) Zurich — Spiegelgasse (2.52) Density category 9

Berlin — Friedrichstraße (3.40) Munich — Schwanthalerstraße (2.89) Vienna — Wollzeile (3.18) Zurich — Bahnhofstraße (2.78)

Metho­dology and Terminology The criteria for the selection of the perimeters within each density category are the building density, the comparable total area, a similar siting within the city, and as broad a spectrum of urban development patterns as possible, both within the density cate­gory itself and among all the analyzed perimeters being compared.

The 13 Analysis Parameters In order to determine which factors, in addition to building density, affect the atmosphere, each of the 36 urban perimeters is evaluated according to 13 analysis parameters. These include parameters relating to the buildings and the exterior space, as well as social and historical parameters:

Year of construction (YC) Occupation density (OD) Population turnover (PT) Building height (H) Number of floors (F) Floor area ratio (FAR) Site occupancy index (SOI) Volume-to-area ratio (VAR) Rental price (RP) Undeveloped area (UA) Public space (PS) Use and (public) ground-floor use (PU) Private Space (PRS) On the one hand, these parameters are compared within each density category to draw conclusions as to the character of each category. On the other hand, the analysis of these parameters makes it possible to assess their influence on the atmosphere of the urban perimeters across all density categories. Precise information on the calculation of each individual parameter is provided at the beginning of the “density catalog”, which contains maps representing the key values and an easy-to-follow overview of all analysis parameters in the form of charts. At the end of the density catalog, all the charts of each city are summarized in a city diagram to provide a clear and comprehensive diagrammatic image of Berlin, Munich, Vienna, and Zurich.

42 The Atmosphere In contrast to the objectively measurable 13 analysis parameters, the atmosphere of an urban district is largely determined by the subjective perception of each individual resident or passer-by and their relationship with this environment. But in addition to the highly personal readings, there are universally applicable connections that lead to a perception of atmosphere shared by most people in a specific district. This shared perception depends on certain constellations of a wide range of elements in the urban space. And this book explores these constellations in the exterior space of the various perimeters, with a particular focus on the public spaces. However, in order to be able to discern the subjective components of the atmosphere, one needs to be present in this environment. One has to be physically there to see, smell, and feel all the ingredients. But a book does not provide that opportunity. For this reason a variety of illustrative means have been employed to convey the atmospheric mood and render it experienceable for the reader, thereby facilitating a comparison of the peri­ meters in the different cities and density categories:

Standardized District Photographs The public street spaces and the semi-public exterior spaces were photographically documented in all four cities according to rigorous criteria for comparison: identical height of camera viewpoint, central perspective, same time of day, similar weather conditions. These photographs are shown in the “density catalog” at the beginning of each density category. They provide a clear overview of the exter­ ior spaces in the corresponding perimeters.

Atmospheric Photographs The photo essay visually captures the atmosphere in the different perimeters. Large-format, full-page photographs reveal the subjective gaze of the photographer, who portrays selected details of the life in the district. These photographs are integrated into the chapter “The Districts” and also feature in the preface and the credits pages of this book.

Approach

District Descriptions Detailed descriptions of the history, location within the city as a whole, current image, streetscape, and atmosphere are provided for each of the 36 urban perimeters from the perspective of the author in order to furnish the reader with as clear an idea as possible of the character of each perimeter. These district descriptions are contained in the chapter “The Districts”; in addition to the data of the analysis parameters, they form the basis for the evaluation and conclusions of this book.

43 Approach and Methodology All these data, facts, and descriptions are analyzed and evaluated in order to draw conclusions on the connection between building density and atmosphere. The book is divided into three main sections: “The Density Analysis”, “The Density Stories”, and “The Density Catalog.”

The Density Analysis The density analysis contains the textual analysis comprising the district descriptions, the evaluation, and the conclusions. It is organized into three subchapters:

The Districts To begin with, the basic prerequisites for each density category are briefly explained; next, each of the four perimeters in Berlin, Munich, Vienna, and Zurich are described, followed by a brief interim conclusion on the character of each density category. This creates an overview of all nine density categor­ ies and the 36 districts.

Density, Atmosphere, and Numbers Next, the objective criteria of the relationship between density and atmosphere are explored across all density categories, perimeters, and cities. The material comprising plans, numbers, and data — visually represented in the second section of the book, the “density catalog”—forms the basis for this exploration. Finally, this material is then related to the insights gathered in the district descriptions.

Density and Atmosphere Based on these insights, comprehensive conclusions arising from the study are drawn, and the key factors for the connection between density and atmosphere are identified. This is rounded out with commentary on the implications of the study, and criteria for future district plans.

The Density Stories In the “Density Stories”, four authors share literary narratives on the cities. These four narratives were created specifically for this book and capture the unique character of each author’s city from his or her personal perspective: some speak of their hometown, while others portray their chosen hometown. Berlin, Munich, Vienna, and Zurich and their respective atmospheres are thus made “readable”, complemented by a brief commentary.

Metho­dology and Terminology

The Density Catalog The Density Catalog presents the collective data material  —  all the material that can be objectively measured and visualized  —  arranged according to density category, in the form of photographs, maps, and diagrams. A practical thumb index is a valuable aid in locating information for each category. Thus the relevant data material in the catalogue is readily accessible to complement the reading of the “density analysis”. Readers can therefore explore sections of the book separately and according to their own preferences, while at the same time gaining an understanding of how the chapters are linked and relate to each other.

1 See section: “The 36 Urban Districts”. 2 See section: “The Density Factors”. 3 See section: “The Atmosphere”. 4 See section: “The 36 Urban Districts”. 5 On the selection criteria, see section: “The 36 Urban Districts”. 6 See section: “The 13 Analysis Parameters”.

the districts

36 Urban Districts in 9 Density Categories

The character of an urban district is largely determined by its historical origins, the social composition of its inhabitants, its location and use, its current appearance, and much more besides. Below, the basic conditions of each density category are briefly outlined, each of the respective perimeters from Berlin, Munich, Vienna and Zurich is concisely characterized, and finally some short preliminary conclusions as to the character of the respective den­ sity categories are drawn.

Density Category 1

( < 0.4 )

Single-Family House Idyll 1: House and Garden

Zurich, Im Heimgärtli

48

Density Category 1

The Dream of a House of One’s Own The present analysis of districts with a lose development profile ­­­on urban peripheries begins with density category 1. People who ­move to locations such as these are looking for very specific qualities. ­­­The houses — most of which are detached, with surrounding gardens — ­­­­are home to residents seeking a sheltered, intimate and private living

environment in close contact with nature.

Historically, the four developments studied here are expansions of traditionally evolved village structures, which arose in the early twentieth century in response to the sudden increase in population numbers and the impact of industrialization, and were consequently incorporated into the adjacent towns and cities. Further densification of the inner cities seemed no longer possible. Regardless of class, families of all income levels were looking for a healthy lifestyle with fresh air, light and sun in a verdant environment. With this in mind, Ebenezer Howard developed the idea of the Garden City toward the end of the nineteenth century. Originating in Great Britain, where ­­the burdens of industrial growth were especially great, and soon spreading across industrialized Central Europe, the Garden-City movement seemed to promise relief for the overstrained city centers. Many cities that built districts based on the English example initially adopted ­a cooperative model financed by municipal or private funds, yet without aiming to realize Howard’s Garden City vision in its entirety.1 The verdant urban expansions were instead rather patchy com­plements to the existing city, and adopted a pragmatic approach. They were either created in areas with favorable landscapes, or ­ on land that allowed for the easy development of inexpensive building sites, or in the vicinity of the new factories on the urban periphery. Initially, people used the gardens for a home-grown food supply. This aspect was vitally important, especially in the years following ­­­ the First World War. The regular rows of relatively quickly erected and rather modest post-war homes, with their narrow streets and optimized land use, continue to define many urban peripheries in Central European cities and still transmit the atmosphere of those desperate years into the present day. With economic recovery, the meaning of property ownership changed from collective uniformity toward taking pleasure in a small territory of one’s own, which could be designed with individual flair. Up to the present day, single-family house districts remain the poster images of our individualized society. What the four districts under analysis have in common is the ­ex­pansive homogeneity of their urban planning. As new housing settlements, they were conceived on the drawing board to respond ­­­­to the requirements and ideals of their time and then implemented. ­ Even now, many of these suburban settlements are still barely connected to the adjacent urban areas owing to this structural uniformity. Over the years, this had led to the emergence of an urban patchwork of very different, isolated urban districts, which characterizes suburbs today. The Perimeter The district centered on Waldstraße in Munich-Trudering (density factor 0.36) is a residential area that has gone through all these development stages. During the years of severe housing shortages toward the end of the First World War, the so-called Gartenstadt

1 Ebenezer Howard’s Garden City scheme envisioned founding large new urban developments in the countryside, beyond the boundaries of existing cities. They were to comprise several concentrically arranged belts of new development with a variety of functions (e.g. residential, commercial, cultural amen­ ities), separated by agricultural land. As a new urban utopia, the garden cities were intended to dissolve the contrast between city and countryside and make it possible for cities to grow and expand in a healthy fashion. Although no Garden City was ever fully realized, the idea served as inspiration for the urban-planning ambitions of modernism and their subsequent implementation on a large scale after the Second World War.

49 (garden city) was created in the Munich suburb of Trudering, which in­­cludes the area around Waldstraße and was incorporated (into ­Munich) in 1932. After the Second World War, the once needy population strata, with their vegetable gardens grown for self-sufficiency, gradually made way for more affluent middle-class residents, who appreciated the tranquil and family-oriented lifestyle in green surroundings with easy access to the city. Since the closure of the old air­port and the completion of a subway line to the new Messestadt Riem district (lit. Convention City Riem) in 1999, population numbers have increased sharply. Today, the Gartenstadt in Trudering is one of Munich’s most popular residential districts. This successive development is clearly visible in the design of the individual houses. In the grid of quiet residential streets encom­passing blocks of different sizes, simple buildings with hip roofs from the ­ early years of the settlement alternate with semi-detached ­homes from the 1950s and two-family houses from the 1970s designed in the vernacular of the Bavarian alpine foothills, and contrasting with renovated 1960s bungalows. In between, building cranes tower skyward from newly excavated construction pits right alongside post­­­modern single-family homes. A close look at the figure ground plans of the four districts reveals that Trudering boasts the largest open spaces while at the same time possessing the greatest building density. This is the ­result of a deliberate concentration of the building mass in mainly two-story detached and semi-detached homes along the edges of unusually deep lots. Consequently, the centers of the blocks have a very generous, visually continuous garden space. 2 From the very beginning, ­ a second building line was introduced in this area, and is mostly occupied by small garden sheds or gazebos, as well as a few residential homes accessible via footpaths. In the near future, this potential building space could ­be utilized more intensively at the expense of the gardens, as is already happening in the eastern part of the district. If this were the case, the density factor would increase significantly. The urbanization of the district is also reflected in the concentration of public space. On the one hand, at barely 12.5 percent, the share of public spaces in relation to the gross area within the perimeter is lowest among the four districts analyzed here. On the other hand,­it is notable when looking at the larger context of the garden city that small-scale and larger parks are dispersed across the district; public spaces are thus combined to form open spaces for communal use, very much in the vein of urban squares. They create focal points in an otherwise uniform residential district, where the streets are interchangeably similar despite the difference in house styles. 3 The proximity to the urban core is also revealed in the great number of cars parked in the relatively wide streets with sidewalks on both sides. Moreover, the dynamic district boasts the highest fluctuation rate of all perimeters under discussion. At first glance the Schippergasse in Vienna-Großjedlersdorf (dens­ ity factor 0.31) offers a very similar streetscape. However, this district provides a more tranquil environment than that in Munich. The houses are slightly lower in height, the streets somewhat more verdant, and the residents display the highest residential stability of the four districts. Even so, in the figure ground plan the development in this district reveals the highest density, confirmed by the high site occupancy index of 0.19. With a floor area ratio of 0.31, the

House and Garden

2 A similar urban-planning solution with greater density (larger houses on smaller lots) may be found in the Lich­ ter­felde residential district. Compare the Drakestraße perimeter, density category 2.

3 If this type of green space, for example the area along Waldstraße, were to be included in the perimeter discussed here, the percentage of public space would be much higher.

Berlin, Privatstraße Munich, Waldstraße

52 utilization of available development space is well below that seen in Munich. This more modest ambiance of the district is rooted in its origins, which are closely linked to the industrialization of the region. Like Trudering, Jedlersdorf was once a small village in the floodplains of the Danube outside of the city gates of Vienna. From 1872 onward, the construction of the Northwestern Railway (a former railway company during the Austro-Hungarian Empire) gave rise to the emergence of many industries in addition to the large railway factory. Following incorporation into Vienna as the city’s 21st district at the beginning of the twentieth century, there was a steady influx of large working class families, necessitating the creation of a variety of factory and workers’ housing settlements. Among these is the Schotterfeld workers’ settlement, which was founded in the late 1920s. Rapid industrial development has left its mark on Großjedlersdorf to the present. Today, the bourgeois idyll of the district is surrounded by a hodgepodge of large-scale developments on the boundary to the open landscape. 4 Once again, the individual houses reveal their year of construction; the overall urban structure, however, is noticeably more homo­ geneous. The older streets are narrow with unpaved sidewalks, while the newer ones are more generous in scale with paved sidewalks on both sides and, in some case, rows of trees that separate the sidewalks from the road. The streets surround narrow neighborhood blocks, which are nearly equal in size and reflect the former division of agricultural fields. Although this area has the highest ratio of public spaces — nearly 16 percent — among the four districts analyzed here, there are no parks at all. The street is the only space available for communal use, but as it fails to provide a hospitable environment, it tends to remain empty. Daily life plays out within the confines of the private homes and gardens. This great emphasis on privacy is also evident in the occupancy rate, which documents that each resident of the Schippergasse occupies an average of just under 119 square meters floor space. The settlement Im Heimgärtli in Zurich-Albisrieden (density factor 0.30) shows an even more homogeneous image. In contrast to the other three districts, it was built in 1933 as a simple workers’ settlement with gardens for cultivating fruits and vegetables for self-sufficiency. To this day, it still looks as if it were cast from a single mold. The Heimgärtli is also located in a former suburb, which was in­corporated into the City of Zurich in 1934 in the wake of industrial development. Since Albisrieden is shadowed by the Uetliberg (a small mountain overlooking the city) in the afternoons, it was never one of Zurich’s preferred residential areas despite its proximity to nature. The entire foot of the mountain slope was therefore gradually built over by building cooperatives with simple row housing and smaller detached homes. It is only very recently that some of these settlements are being expanded with new buildings on a larger scale. The building structure of the Heimgärtli district is extremely simple and space saving. The relatively small area was divided into identical building lots. “Im Heimgärtli”, the eponymous street, is a quiet cul-de-sac that forms the central axis of the district. Identical small two-story houses with saddle roofs are centered along this axis of the site. As a result, the individual buildings are separated by green zones, but the private garden space has shrunk to a narrow strip around the house. However, this narrow strip is so intensively utilized that many of the modest homes are nearly obscured by vegetation today. The two blocks at the core were even developed with three rows

Density Category 1

4 Compare the districts Pilotengasse (density category 2) and Prinzgasse (density category 4) in a similar setting in the Donaustadt, Vienna.

53 each to maximize the land use. Of these, the center row is accessed via small dead-end access lanes. Although individual houses have gradually been adapted to changed living requirements over the course of time, the serial row layout has been preserved since larger additions are impossible due to a lack of building space on each lot. As is the case in Vienna, there is a great degree of identification with the district and hence considerable stability with regard to long-term residency. At 14 percent, the ratio of public space still falls within the average range of the density category 1; however, in this case it is exclusively concentrated on the narrow network of paths through the settlement, without creating any visible focal points. The modest width of the streets, which have no sidewalks, creates close proximity between neighbors and generates an intimate sense of community among them. In contrast to the rather repetitive and extensive urban configurations in Munich, Vienna and Zurich, the district Privatstraße in Berlin-­ Hohenschönhausen (density factor 0.23) is characterized by an idio­syncratic, rigorous structure. Hohenschönhausen, a former one-street village in Brandenburg that was incorporated into Greater Berlin in 1920, was renowned as a small rural oasis thanks to the small lakes that surround it. When industry moved into the area, population numbers soared and new ­developments sprang up, branching out in sections from the historic core of the village. On one of the northern pie-shaped sections of this expansion, a single-family house development was created on a privately owned site from 1936 onward. The structure of this development, whose systematically numbered streets are still simply named as a “Privatstraße” or “private street”, is radially aligned with the ­old village center. The curved side streets, lacking in sidewalks, are relatively narrow; their unpaved edges emanate a rural atmosphere. At a small green space, which forms the center of the district, a wide principal axis with green verges and pedestrian paths intersects with an expanded crossroad. Surrounded by modest residential areas, large-scale prefab housing estates and allotments, the settlement seems introverted and insular — sealed off from the outside. The narrow lots are roughly equal in size. Small houses from all stages of the development are situated close to the road, their gardens to the rear forming a communally sheltered green space in each block — much the same as in the district in Munich — within which a variety of small structures have been erected as well as a notable number of small pools. This settlement has by far the lowest building density of all the districts analyzed in this chapter. The distance between structures, the intensive use of the gardens and the proximity between neighboring blocks almost gives the district an air of an allotment colony. This modesty is also evident in the occupancy index of 68 square meters of floor space per resident. Although the central green space and the two wide axes offer generous public spaces, daily life remains focused on the lovingly maintained homes and gardens. Private Sphere and Communal Sphere The areas analyzed for density category 1 are purely residential areas where active use is focused in the private sphere. Generally speaking, the street serves only as a traffic route and connection to the city,

House and Garden

Berlin, Privatstraße Munich, Waldstraße

57 since there is a lack of public transportation and infrastructure or services within walking distance. It is only from a certain building density onward that public space comes into play as an essential activity sphere. In all development densities in this category, however, the character of a district is nevertheless strongly determined by the distribution and form of the public space. Munich’s Gartenstadt has the most distinct spatial forms and definitive differentiation between public and private space. Set closely to the street and mostly two-stories high, the houses, which are aligned in a row along the street, create an almost urban streetscape, complemented to the rear by a similarly clearly defined garden space. The district is characterized by a concentration of both building masses and open spaces. In the Heimgärtli in Zurich, in contrast, public space is almost completely eliminated in favor of private space. The figure ground plan shows a distribution of identical two-story homes that is so homo­ genous as to render the streets almost invisible to the eye. Given their narrowness, the streets barely disturb the green continuum of the garden areas — they appear to not create any divisions. The community is in the foreground here. The other districts lie somewhere between these two polar opposites. Although the Wiener Schippergasse boasts the highest percentage of public space, in the figure ground plan the perimeter reveals a development distribution that is similarly uniform to that in the Heimgärtli in Zurich and recalls, at the same time, the streetscape in Munich. On the one hand, however, the streets in the Viennese district are too wide to allow the garden space to dominate the residential area, and on the other hand the homes are too low in height on average and too “overgrown” to create a uniform streetscape. The distribution of spaces in the Berlin settlement is far more differentiated. Since this perimeter has the least density, the houses are only one-and-a-half stories in height on average, comparable to those in Vienna. However, since their floor area is smaller overall, the gardens are closer on either side of the narrow streets, not unlike the district in Zurich. Public space is concentrated around a large axis of coordinates and the small park at its center, lending the area a rural ambience with its village square, main street and side streets.

Vienna, Schippergasse

House and Garden

Density Category 2

( 0.4  —  0.6 )

Single-Family House Idyll 2: Urban Garden Cities

Vienna, Pilotengasse next page: Munich, Reindlstraße

61

Urban Garden Cities

Garden and City Density category 2 districts, like category 1, are also settlements which — at least when they were founded — lay on city peripheries. ­ In comparison to the first category, the residents here not only want to enjoy their garden idyll, they also choose to live in green areas in

close proximity to urban society.

The period in which the four selected settlements arose spans more than a century. Consequently, the motivations behind their foundation and the aims of their builders vary accordingly. Developments range from the villa colonies of the late 19th and early 20th centuries, ­to the pragmatic extension of towns during the period between the two world wars, and more recent attempts to counterpoise faceless proliferations on the outskirts with a distinct and compact form. For all their typographical and empirical differences, the settlements analyzed here have one thing in common: that they basically adhere to the model of a private house with a garden whilst simultan­ eously seeking to realize this goal in more concentrated urban forms such as grand villas and long rows of terraced houses. The greater compactness of these developments — in combination with small, ­district-centered infrastructural facilities such as restaurants, shops and community houses that serve as meeting places within walking ­distance — allows for the emergence of a sense of shared identity. On the one hand, their privileged position, being directly linked to the inner city, makes these districts highly desirable residential areas where rented and purchased properties fetch the highest prices. ­ On the other hand, the developments themselves are intended to inject a sense of urban life into the peripheries. The Perimeter The district in Drakestraße in Berlin-Lichterfelde (density factor 0.41) is the oldest of the four areas examined here. It lies in the Lichter­ felde West villa colony, which was inspired by English models and built on private land from 1860 onward, making it Berlin’s first villa district. Its founder and initiator was the Hamburg businessman Johann ­Anton Wilhelm von Carstenn, who marketed the district as a professional project developer. He developed fallow land near the village ­ of Lichterfelde, building streets, metropolitan railway links and even the first electric tram line in the world. In this way, he directly linked the new settlement area with the City of Berlin. From the start, the small district center with its shops, restaurants, parish hall and beer ­garden  — both next to the station and along Drakestraße — made the villa colony independent of the surrounding villages. Even now, it still serves as the gate to the city. Buyers1 were able to construct villas on their own land according their own tastes, resulting — in the heyday of historicism — in a wide variety of imaginative building styles. As the villas’ styles had to meet very strict urban-planning regulations and reflect the owners’ desire for prestige, 2 by the early twentieth century a unique villa colony had emerged that not only displayed cohesive urban planning and extraordinary architectural diversity, but also became a model for other ­settlements of this nature. During the post-1945 housing shortage, ­ a large number of the villas were divided up into apartments. The building gaps left by the Second World War were partially filled with new, pragmatically designed apartment buildings. Nevertheless most

1 In order to sell the property at a profit, Carstenn, a shrewd businessman, financed the construction of a Prussian main cadet school. As a consequence, the area soon became a select residential area for members of the Prussian officer corps of noble ancestry. 2 Among other things, the houses had to adhere to a common building line and have a prestigious designed facade (regardless of the style) facing the street.

62

Density Category 2

of the historicist villas have remained intact and are today to a large extent under preservation orders. The area under investigation at the junction of Drakestraße and Holbeinstraße is typical of the colony as a whole. Most of the compact street blocks are surrounded by detached houses, which form small villa complexes at the street corners and are crowned with small towers,3 lending the crossroads an urban character with a square-like atmosphere. The occasional shop or restaurant can be found here, too. ­ All of the houses in the street have been erected along a single building line, so that their front gardens create space between the houses and the street. The villas, mostly two or three stories high, are entered via a staircase leading to the typical raised ground floor — the ­prestigious belle étage. Nowadays, converted coachman’s houses, as well as the occasional villa, may still be found on properties located ­ in the center of the square development blocks. Although Drakestraße, as a thoroughfare, has meanwhile been asphalted, the side streets with their old cobbled surfaces and traditional gas lighting still evoke the atmosphere of the time it was built. Despite its rich architectural diversity, the district has a very peaceful and homogeneous atmosphere due to the greenness of ­ the old gardens and the tall trees planted in an avenue-like fashion between the footpaths on both sides and the street. Neighbors encounter one another on the way to the baker’s, the S-Bahn (metropolitan railway) and the restaurant, allowing a moderate street life to take place in peaceful surroundings. Thanks to these qualities, plus the fast railway connection to the Berlin-Mitte district, since German reunification the Villenkolonie ­Lichterfelde delights in its having become an extremely popular residential area again, especially among diplomats. Most of the settlement area around Schlösslistraße on the Zürichberg (density factor: 0.44) arose in the early 20 th century as a noble villa district. A glance at a figure ground diagram shows that it has ­ a very different structure to that of Drakestraße. In contrast to Berlin, where an extensive street network has created clearly defined development blocks, Zürichberg displays a largely uniform distribution of detached houses, partly due to its very different topographical situation. Schlösslistraße lies in the Zurich district of Fluntern, which originally derived its livelihood from growing wine grapes on the steep southern slopes of the Zürichberg. When the city experienced an economic boom in the nineteenth century, the mountain suddenly acquired ­ a new significance. The city fortifications at the foot of the mountain were demolished to make way for Zurich’s highly prestigious university, the ETH , and the new hospital, whilst the panoramic vineyards were transformed into highly sought-after residential areas for wealthy citizens, who sought to escape both the haze of the smoke emissions of the expanding industry in the Limmattal (the valley of the River Limmat) and the oppressive layers of fog in the Zurich winter. 4 Under the new development plan of 1901, the steep old vineyard paths ­ were replaced by the district’s winding streets, while the invention of the motorcar made it easier for people to reach the area, which from then onwards became increasingly popular among wealthy citizens. As a result, available building land became correspondingly scarcer and more expensive. Hence, the more recent the development, the smaller the land parcels. In the 1950s, simpler, single-family houses and ­co-operative buildings were built between the old villas. The district has meanwhile become a scene of bustling construction, and for many

3 In common parlance they are referred to as the Lichterfelde “mini-tower villas”.

4 The precursors of the villas were large country estates owned by families who lived in the city. One example of this is Schlössli Susenberg, which gave Schlösslistraße and Susenbergstraße their names. In 1909, the villa was bought by the Phoenix Construction Company. It was later torn down and sold at a profit together with the surrounding estates, which form the perimeter.

Berlin, Drakestraße

Berlin, Drakestraße Zurich, Schlösslistraße

66 years now rising demand for prestigious living space has increased the pressure of private investment. 5 Although the area is linked to the inner city by the nearby Rigiblick funicular tramline and a bus route, the car remains the most common means of transport in the district. ­ Due to its sunny position and proximity to the city on the one hand, and the Zürichberg woods on the other, the Schlösslistraße district is now one of the most expensive residential areas in the whole of Zurich. Correspondingly the residents place a high premium on their privacy. The streetscape is marked by the high, protective hedges and the supporting walls of the terraced properties, which often also contain garages. The roads themselves vary considerably in quality: the flatter ones following the contour lines are wider and paved on one side only, while the steeper streets on the slope are often much narrower, only partially cobbled, and lack pavements. Steep stairs, do however, provide short cuts for pedestrians. 6 In contrast to the two nineteenth century Gründerzeit districts in Berlin and Zurich, which are primarily populated with free-standing villas, ­ the qualities of the more recent and modest settlements in Munich and Vienna relies on rows of compact terraced housing. The middle-class ribbon developments within the perimeter of Reindlstraße in Munich-Laim (density factor 0.47) are part of the Neufriedenheim settlement, which was built around 1930 — during the Weimar Republic — as a social-housing project by the Gemeinnützige Wohnfürsorge (charitable housing welfare) as part of a large-scale project aimed at alleviating the growing housing shortage. The architect, Bruno Biehler, planned nine rows of two-story houses, while a tenth four-story row7 was to be shielded in the east from the traffic noise in Fürstenrieder Straße. These quiet residential blocks, built in groups of two, surround four green garden spaces that open to the south in a star-like formation. A narrow central gravel path, lined by hedges, provides access to each of the garden plots, as in an arbor garden settlement. These garden areas are interrupted at Indersdorferstraße in the north by one-story connecting buildings accommodating small shops and garages. The central building is set back slightly, ­creating a small public park facing the street, with narrow treeless streets — paved on either side — running between the narrow parallel rows. The small front gardens and the entrances to the houses are separated from the street area by one low step, without any fences or walls. As a result, these private areas are transformed optically into a part of the public space, and green the street. In order to break up the monotony of the rows of houses, the architect has also arranged the rows into two to six part-sections of unequal length and colored each one in a different, earthy pastel tone. 8 The finely meshed path network, as well as the small scale of the houses and the street spaces, lends the district an intimate and almost village-like character. In both the streets and the gardens, the distinction between public and private space is blurred. Although it has the highest building density, the Neufriedenheim settlement has by far the greatest share of public spaces of all the four perimeters ­analyzed in this category. The spaces actually used by the public — the small parking lot and the rows of shops on the one side, and the ­restaurant and beer-garden opposite the Catholic Church on the ­other — face the major roads. As a result, the settlement remains a peaceful locality, which strangers are hesitant to enter. As the secluded settlement has largely retained its original character, it is now under a preservation order.

Density Category 2

5 Generally, the old villas are demolished and replaced by new buildings with luxury owner-occupied flats. The new dwellers exploit the site to the full and contribute towards the district’s growing population density.

6 Often, these steep footpaths followed the old vineyard paths.

7 The four-story row lies outside the perimeter of the grounds.

8 The Hochsitzweg neighborhood in Berlin (density category 3) has a similar urban constellation, except that the houses are one story higher.

Zurich, Schlösslistraße

68

Density Category 2

At first sight, the settlement in Pilotengasse, Vienna-Aspern (density factor 0.43) might almost be a contemporary version of the settlement in Munich. And there are certainly a number of parallels. Here, too, the long lines of rowed housing are subdivided into smaller sections, ­ and colors — some earthy, some extremely powerful — alleviate their monotony. Here, too, an intricate network of paths runs between the two-story house rows. But whereas the district around Munich ­Reindlstraße has been integrated into an existing urban environment, the Pilotengasse settlement turns into a privatized experiment on ­ a green-meadow site. The strictly square and flat plot, including its circulation routes and infrastructure, was developed as an entity by the Österreichisches Siedlungswerk (the property developer) and completed between 1989 and 1992. As a manifesto-like model settlement, it was supposed to explore the potential of a high-density settlement on a sprawling periphery. 9 Instead of creating distinct village and urban spaces, however, the three teams of architects comprising Adolf Krischaniz, Steidle + Partner, and Herzog & de Meuron devised a joint development plan that creates a space full of abstract allusions.10 The radii of the six long, curving lines of rowed housing allude to imaginary, distant centers outside the periphery. As a result, the interstices, with their gardens and narrow private paths, widen and ­become narrow without ever defining a real center. On the western side the structure is flanked by a long, straight line of rowed housing, whereas the individual houses are separated from one another by single-story extensions in the garden. On the eastern side, a row of free-standing single and two-family houses appears to open outwards. As for the long building — which runs from north to south — and the diagonally aligned reference fields of gardens and green spaces, the architects speak of a textural overlay.11 Hence, the individual rows, with their individually designed frontage buildings, logically end in a diagonal green area containing two community halls and a playground. Although Pilotengasse lies approximately fourteen kilometers from the center of Vienna, it has good subway connections to the inner city. As a model development it attempted to create an extended structure minus a center, which was intended to combine the advantages of urban living and its social plurality with the pleasures of peaceful residency in the green periphery. In order to correspondingly individualize the strict order of the development site, the architects joined together various typologies in a variety of colors and flows.12 There is only one central parking lot on the north side of the perimeter, and the internal routes are only usable on foot. Family Life with Urban Accessibility The four districts in density category 2 attempt to perform a balan­ cing act between allowing people to lead self-determined lives on the green periphery and participating in the advantages of communal city life. Despite their similar structural density, however, their characters are completely different. Surprisingly, the least densely developed area around Drakestraße in Berlin is the one with the most urban character, despite the fact that it is here — as with most modern single-family housing ­accommodation — that the most diverse private dwelling dreams coexist alongside one another. The reasons for this are two-fold. On the one hand is the urban structure, which is composed of street blocks of similar proportions and dimensions to those in the Gründerzeit inner-

9 Compare the Ringofenweg neigh­ borhood (density category 5), a similar experiment with a higher density. 10 The estate’s individual units could also be interpreted as a construction-kit-like collection of development typologies of the modern estates of the 1920s and 1930s, as can be found — in the color scheme and down to the very last de­tail — in Zehlendorf’s former rural settlement Onkel Toms Hütte in Berlin (see perimeter Hochsitzweg, density category 3).

11 www.krischanitz.ch

12 There are a total of 21 different apartment types in the housing development. 13 of them are single houses, five duplex houses with ten apartments, six singlestory apartments, 35 terrace houses with 172 apartments, and two community buildings.

69 city districts, and emphasizes the corners by constructing continuous housing units. On the other hand is that the old avenue trees lend the street views homogeneity. The villas’ decorative gables, which are often three stories high, also give the district a sense of urban splendor and demonstrate the individual intention to achieve prestige in an urban society. With its small shopping and business center, as well as its own metropolitan railway station, this district is, at the same time, the most autonomous of the four areas under examination here. The Zürichberg villa district has a completely different character. Here public space accounts for less than 14 percent of the total area: lower than that for Berlin. Furthermore, there is virtually no public infrastructure. In contrast to the prestigious buildings in Lichterfelde, Zürichberg’s villas, set back from the road and with more modest facades, focus more on the private inner-space of the gardens and houses.13 During the post-war years of housing shortages, the planners seemed to think that it was no longer appropriate to use large spaces for free-standing single-family houses. In many settlements built ­during the period of modernism, like that along Reindlstraße in Munich, people have moved closer together in village-like communities. In comparison with urban developments in Munich and Vienna, which have adopted a similar planning approach, it is striking that even where the share of undeveloped areas is almost identical there remains a great discrepancy with respect to the share of public spaces.14 ­ In both cases, the finely interwoven access routes have increased the amount of space devoted to traffic. The Munich perimeter, however, clearly differentiates between house entrances facing district roads used by traffic and gardens accessed via garden paths, even though all of the streets and paths constitute public space. The Viennese ­settlement, in contrast, was built on just one private parcel. Hence, the purely pedestrian network has also been effectively privatized. This approach seems to have made Pilotengasse the most introverted of the settlements mentioned here, and being a less significant address with fewer passers-by it already displays the deficits of semi-public spaces.

Urban Garden Cities

13 The quality of life comes closest to that in the accommodation of density category 1, albeit in a more luxurious form.

14 In the Munich settlement, 24.05 per cent comprises public areas, as against 13.42 per cent in the Viennese settlement.

Density Category 3

( 0.6  —  0.9 )

Urban Apartments in Green Areas 1: Houses and Rows

Munich, Quiddestraße

72

Density Category 3

The Verdant City The third density category is caught between the poles of the

private single-family house and the green single-story apartment. The hybrid nature of this category is reflected in a concomitant fundamental change in property relations. The structures of the two old districts in Vienna and Berlin are derived from the idea underlying the private town villa, which offered those higher up the social ladder an opportunity to live on their own properties in an open space as an alternative to the increasingly confined conditions in the city center. After the Second World War, the widespread shortage of accom­ modation caused by drastic socio-economic changes was so great that totally different dwelling forms had to be found for the broad mass of the population. As in the perimeters of Zurich and Munich, co-operatives and large investors began developing large parcels of land on the basis of economic criteria to create the greatest possible number of rented apartments. Striking here is the fact that, over the course of time, the development of the floor area ratio (FAR) in the four areas under investigation responded reciprocally to the figures for the site occupancy index (SOI). The more recent the settlements and the larger the plots, the higher the FAR and, at the same time, the smaller the resultant SOI as a footprint of development. Consequently cubic capacities develop vertically upwards to the benefit of the surrounding open spaces. On the one hand, this development guaranties ever faster and more economical modes of construction, which corresponds on the other hand to a new attitude towards urban development that offers the greatest number of people a healthy life in a green environment. Despite their peripheral position, however, the four settlements examined here no longer regard themselves as purely suburban districts, but as part of the city, whereby some even form towns of their own. The Perimeter The Gründerzeit settlement along Larochgasse in Vienna-Hietzing (density factor 0.70) graphically illustrates the development of a prestigious detached house into a city apartment in a green area. Until the end of the 19 th century, the area was part of the extensive park of the grand Villa Hügel. With the incorporation of Hietzing into the City of Vienna, however, land prices suddenly rose. From 1894 on, an estate agent began dividing the park into squares with individual plots. Stately houses, based on the so-called cottage style inspired by English models, were built upon these plots up to the early years of the 20th century.1 In their middle, he left one block undeveloped and — inspired by the villa gardens of old — transformed the Hügelpark into a public space. Owing to its location between Schönbrunn Gardens and Lainzer Zoo, and its good railway links to the city, this area soon became a lively and elegant residential district. In terms of style and urban planning, this settlement initially calls to mind the Villakolonie Lichterfelde in Berlin described above.2 Its rectangular structure, however, is based on smaller parcels, and it contains a larger number of roads. The houses are far bigger and most of them not only have three full floors, but an additional one, too. Furthermore, they are built closer together and alongside one another, even forming integrated complexes of detached villas. At the latest after the Second World War, these houses had become too large to

1 The district includes, among other things, the Steiner and Scheu Villas by Adolf Loos, and Villa Langer by Joze ˇ Ple cnik. ˇ

2 See the perimeter Drakestraße (density category 2).

73

Houses and Rows

accommodate just one family, and many of them were therefore divided up into single-story apartments. Apartments in newer buildings were — and still are — built to occupy an entire floor. The proximity of the buildings to one another lends the blocks something of the character of urban perimeter street-front developments. What were once the narrow inner-city courtyards of the blocks have in the meantime been replaced by the rampant greenery of private gardens. Hence, in the interaction between the park and the trees — which line the avenues on one or both sides of the sidewalk — people feel as if they are living close to nature despite the density of the buildings. The various infrastructural establishments such as schools, the park cafe, small shops, and the adjacent historical center of Hietzing contribute much towards making this area one of Vienna’s most highly valued residential districts. If the district office planners had had their way, free-standing villas would now be also standing on the perimeter of Hochsitzweg in Berlin-Zehlendorf (density factor 0.63), as was already the case in older parts of the district. 3 By the early twentieth century, Zehlendorf, with its large detached houses, had become Berlin’ s most popular suburb. In view of the housing shortage and the expansion of cities during the inter-war years, however, the planning team around Hugo Häring, Otto Rudolf Salvisberg and Bruno Taut proposed a new building typology. For the forest settlement Onkel Toms Hütte (Uncle Tom’s Cabin) they came up with a development plan that mainly foresaw long lines of row houses. Between 1926 and 1932, they erected 1,100 apartment complexes and 800 single-family houses on both sides of Argentinische Allee. With the extension of the underground railway network to the settlement in 1929, Taut completed a fifth building section in the northern part of the settlement: the row of houses at Hochsitzweg and its comb-like crossroads. In contrast to the southern section — much of which is marked by apartment com­plexes in large, long drawn-out forms extending along large semi-public open spaces — he now adopted a building typology that was close to nature and simultaneously urban, namely the single family house with a private garden. He did not build any presti­ gious free-standing villas, however, but compact lines of row houses with a small floor area. 4 And although the town-planning constellation of two long and five short intermediate streets created the im­ pression of a block structure, the gardens remained open on their narrow sides, without any yards. The gardens that were laid out perpendicularly to the narrow garden path between the two rows5 were explicitly designed to encourage communication between the residents. Taut implemented a series of measures both to avoid any danger of his settlement becoming monotonous, and to individualize the each of the houses: his terraced family houses, which are basically built alike, are two-and-a-half stories high on the street side, while those facing the garden are three-stories high and staggered. A finely balanced color concept6 emphasizes the difference between the single houses and their integration into the district, which, due to its colorful facades, is also popularly known as the “Parrot Settlement”. A special feature of Zehlendorf’s Waldsiedlung lies in the way it integrates the former pine forest into the development plan. By positioning individual pine trees in a seemingly arbitrary fashion in the streets and gardens, despite its strict development structure the settlement looks as if it has been built in an uninterrupted forested area.

3 See the district in the vicinity of Drakestraße (density category 2). 4 In the narrow houses, each resident has slightly more than half the floor space available to each resident in Vienna’s Larochegasse. Thus, the houses, which only cover the area of a simple single-floor apartment in the center of Berlin, represent a green alternative to the tenements built very close together there at the turn of the century. 5 This structure (including its color scheme) served, among other things, as a model for the Viennese Pilotengasse settlement and can also be found in the settlement centered on Reindlstraße in Munich (for both cases see density category 2). 6 The individually ornamented facades of the villas (such as those in Larochgasse, Vienna) were to the architects of the Gründerzeit what color was to Bruno Taut as a representative of the Modern Movement: of all design elements, color had the best value for money and was available to all social strata. In Hochsitz­ weg, he used color to distinguish the attic from the floors below, thus lending the facades an almost classical structure. At the same time, he used green and red as themes for the points of the compass. Taut did not align his houses in accordance with the position of the sun (as had been done with other modernist settlements) but gave them traditional street and garden facades. As the perpendicular rows ran northsouth, he colored the east facade green to cool the morning sun, and painted the west facade in the warm orange of the setting sun. Consequently, the green and orange facades face one another in the streets. Taut’s color scheme was applied down to the last detail on the window frames, making them part of the facade ornamentation.

Berlin, Hochsitzweg Vienna, Larochegasse

Zurich, Altwiesenstraße

78 In contrast to this forest atmosphere and the urban avenues of Wiener Larochegasse, the rows of houses in the settlement around Alt­ wiesenstraße in Zurich-Schwamendingen (density factor 0.61) were built on green lawns interspersed with just a few bushes and trees. This meadow carpet forms the basis of what are largely co-operative settlements in this district. After the Second World War, Schwamen­ dingen experienced a rapid construction boom, causing the small village of 3,000 inhabitants to grow to 34,500 by 1966.7 The development plan for this rapid building boom was drawn up in 1948 by the former master municipal architect Albert Heinrich Steiner, from Zurich. He planned the new Schwamendingen as a landscaped residential suburb, laid out in a spoke-and-ring form around the old village center. The perimeter under consideration here was built in a short space of time by a housing association in 1952, and accessed by relatively few district roads, which now primarily serve the parked traffic. 8 The individual houses, whose modest apartments occupy an entire floor, are no longer laid out to face the street (as is the case in Berlin), but the position of the sun, and are entered via a narrow pathway through the meadows. A glance at the figure ground plan shows a more­-­­­orless even distribution of short building rows that face one another. They vary only by virtue of their different positions, their regular offsets and their heights, which range from two to five floors. Architecturally, however, they are very similar to one another. As the intermediate spaces — with their unbordered lawns — are also barely structured and seldom used, the settlement seems distinctly quiet and monotonous. 9 Due to its open development structure, however, the permanent noise from the main thoroughfares on both sides can be heard throughout the entire settlement. Work recently began on redeveloping the area and replacing old apartments that had become too small by new and larger buildings. However, the intention is to continue to essentially preserve the settlement’s distinctly green character.

Density Category 3

7 Zurich’s district 12 (Schwamendingen) now has approximately 28,000 residents.

8 In the 1950s, the car became a means of mass-transport for the first time.

9 Small private gardens, tended by the residents, are to be found only in front of the two-story rows.

The large settlement around Quiddestraße in Munich-Neuperlach (density factor 0.80) takes a further major step towards concentrating

built structures and thus creating additional semi-public open spaces. In the late 1960s and early 1970s, the largest satellite town in West Germany was constructed on the border of the quiet garden city of Trudering.10 Diverse groups of large residential buildings with plenty of buffer vegetation and interspersed with small neighborhood centers are grouped around an extensive octagonal center.11 The perimeter under analysis is one of the development units in the north of the so-called “Entlastungsstadt” (overspill town)12 and is accessed, like an island, from a single tree-lined ring road with parking lots. From there, fenced footpaths lead through green areas to the various access cores of the six-to-ten-story residential buildings. Completely in the spirit of the “car-friendly city”, four-lane highways, such as Quiddestraße, have been neatly separated from pedestrian-route networks. On the edges of the periphery, they meet briefly in two small shopping centers and two community centers containing a church and a kindergarten. The entire complex is based, by and large, on the ideals of the Charter of Athens — high-rise buildings in extensive green areas positioned at a distance to the street, alignment to face the position of sun, the separation of functions, etc. Resembling urban avenues, the pedestrian alleys and small car parks are designed to structure the omnipresent open spaces and lend the settlement (to an appropriate extent) the face of a newly understood urbanity in a green setting. The facilities remained empty, however, and their lack

10 See the Waldstraße perimeter (density category 1). 11 Each of these groups of developments basically serves as an autarkic district unit, whose green spaces are enclosed island-like by belt highways. 12 In 1960, the city of Munich decided to create satellite towns to alleviate the growing housing shortage.

79 (in the form of kiosks and cultural amenities) was inadequately supplemented later on in the form of provisional containers. In the high buildings, the identical apartments are too far from the public areas. Furthermore, very little effort has been made to create a welcoming location value for the house entrances that could establish a link to the external space on the ground floor. Unlike the individually differentiated and location-related color concept of Berlin’s above-mentioned “Parrot Settlement”, the colors in Munich are primarily intended to provide orientation amidst the monotonously repetitive facade fronts, and to contribute towards visually enlivening the huge building complexes. Spatial Organization The key to characterizing the four extremely different districts in

Density Category 3 lies in the relationship between the public and private spaces and the buildings in the surrounding open space. A comparison of the share of undeveloped areas in the four perimeters shows that the Viennese villa settlement, achieving a good 75 percent, lies at the lower end of the scale, whilst the large Munich settlement, at almost 87 percent, is near the top. An examination of the share of public spaces, however, reveals almost exactly the opposite story: at 22.50 percent, the Viennese district has the largest share, while the Munich satellite settlement has less than 17 percent, and Zurich’s linear housing blocks has just over 13 percent. The atmospheres in the residential settlements differ accordingly. The district around Larochegasse in Vienna has a distinctly urban character, with a transparent, hierarchically arranged organization of private and public spaces. A green strip with high trees separates the traffic lane from the footpath, which ends at the low foundation walls of the garden fences. These, in turn, clearly separate the public road space from the private garden area, while the front garden helps to green the street and leads to each house’s individual entrance. Beyond it lie the private gardens — protected from street life — which visually merge the interior space of each block to create a common green area. With a height of two to three full floors at most, each single-story apartment relates directly to these garden spaces, which are intensively used and maintained. In addition, with the Hügelpark, the public area has gained a park space — shared by everyone — in the center of the district. The Bruno Taut settlement in Hochsitzweg in Berlin boasts a similar spatial layering. Here, however, the main difference lies in the fact that the individual dwelling units are not organized horizontally as single-floor apartments, but vertically alongside one another as terraced family houses. As a result, all residents have their own share of private open space. Finely structured roads and garden paths, the neighborly proximity of the narrow plots of land, and the high trees here and there create a rural village atmosphere — in marked contrast to the grand streets of Vienna. Zurich and Munich’s single-story-apartment settlement buildings have virtually no private gardens. As a result, the traditional spatial hierarchies between the street, garden and house are absent. Streets no longer serve as spaces for public encounters, but merely as a necessary means for accessing the green district areas. The plots of land are far bigger, and private footpaths lead from the few roads through semi-public green areas to the house entrances, which are barely recognizable as such.

Houses and Rows

80 In Zurich, houses three to four stories high establish a fairly close relationship to the open spaces between the house rows. Even so, the bare lawn areas are not clearly assigned to the individual houses and lack spatial organization. No street environments have been created. As a consequence, the spacious areas are reduced to the domain of the caretaker. The lives of the residents are limited to the interiors of their dwellings, and even the balconies are seldom used.13 Munich’s satellite town, Neuperlach, is based on a completely new conception of the city. Its high-rise complexes do not even begin to establish contact with the open spaces, but want to be seen as highly concentrated structures in an uninterrupted landscape. The main high-rise buildings, which are fundamentally independent of any urban center, are symbolic of the internationally oriented modern movement. As they do not have raised floors in the sense of the Charta of Athens, however, their high house walls create seemingly lost intermediate spaces that keep the individual rows of buildings apart.14

Vienna, Larochegasse

Density Category 3

13 Compare the Ringsiedlung in the Goebelstraße perimeter, Berlin (density category 4).

14 See the Prinzgasse perimeter in Vienna (density category 4) and Senftenberger Ring in Berlin (density category 5).

Density Category 4

( 0.9  — 1.2 )

Urban Apartments in Green Areas 2: Row and Courtyard

Berlin, Goebelstraße

Munich, Konrad-Dreher-Straße

85

Row and Courtyard

The Structured and Spacious City When the settlements for density category 4 were planned, the preponderant consideration was the rapid production residential space at a low-cost. The explosion in population numbers in the interwar years and the housing crisis following the destruction of World War Two made the need for efficient solutions for the housing problem ever more acute. The guidelines of the Athens Charter, drawn up under the leadership of Le Corbusier at the fourth Congrès International d’Architecture Moderne (CIAM) in 1933, formed the basis for developing a new urban-planning strategy. Point 29 of the Charter states: “High buildings, set far apart from one another, must free the ground for broad verdant areas.”1 In order, despite the rapid population growth, to limit urban encroachment into the countryside, open space was no longer regarded as a private garden, but as an uninterrupted rural area from which everyone ought to benefit. Three years before the charter was written, Hans Scharoun already indicated the direction this might take with his plan for the ribbon development of the workers’ Ringsiedlung in Berlin-Siemensstadt. After the Second World War, the ribbon development realized at the settlement, with its single-floor apartments in semi-public open spaces, would become the model for countless housing developments. With the invention of serial pre-cast-concrete components, this mode of construction experienced another enormous boom in the 1960s and 1970s. Although it still proved possible for various architects to realize individual designs of manageable height in Siemensstadt, standardization led to the construction of anonymous large-scale buildings whose appearance was primarily driven by cost effectiveness. The semi-public space between the large, mass-produced structures had become unrecognizable from the original vision of natural open space; instead, it degenerated into problematic open-spaces, thus nurturing uneasy doubts among residents and passers-by about the safety of such complexes. Soon, people began criticizing the anonymity of these satellite towns. But even then, it took until the late 1970s and early 1980s before a genuine process of rethinking started.

1 Le Corbusier, The Athens Charter, translated from the French by Anthony Eardley (Grossman: New York, NY, 1973).

The Perimeter The so-called Siemensstadt Ringsiedlung (Ring Settlement)2 around Goebelstraße in Berlin-Charlottenburg (density factor 0.93) was built between 1929 and 1931 by the architects Walter Gropius, Otto Bartning, Hugo Häring, Fred Forbat, Paul Rudolf Henning and Hans Scharoun (who also prepared the urban-planning concept) as a company settlement built by Siemens in the eponymous Berlin district. The urban complex closely resembles Bruno Taut’s large Onkel-Toms-Hütte settlement, 3 which was created around the same time in the northern part of Zehlendorf district. A conspicuously long, monolithic four-story building4 stretching out along Goebelstraße partitions the street area opposite the districts’ eleven perpendicular ribbon developments, which stand four to five full-stories high. To the north, they are joined by seven additional rows of only two or three stories, which are grouped around a park-like open space and form the transition to the Jungefernheide forest boundary. After the Second World War, six short row developments were added alongside the central heating plant to the south of Goebelstraße.

2 The Ring, founded in 1923/24 was an association of leading architects of the Modern Movement, whose aim was to promote so-called Neues Bauen, which subsequently became International Modernism. All of the architects of the Ring Settlement were members of this association. 3 See the Hochsitzweg perimeter in density category 3. 4 The moniker “long lament” was based on the monotonous facade overlooking the street; in length and curvature it corresponds to Bruno Taut’s differentiated design for his so-called “Peitschen­ knall” (whip-crack) in Berlin-Zehlendorf.

86 In contrast to the Zehlendorf Waldsiedlung, the Ringsiedlung consists entirely of single-floor apartments. Its layout is also far more uniform than the settlement in Zehlendorf. The straight rows running north to south are neither staggered nor do they create street environments. Instead they are embedded in a flowing green space that provides access to the individual house entrances via footpaths only. The rows are so close together that the spaces between them resemble narrow, open courtyards. 5 The monotony of the row layout is only slightly subdivided and loosened by diverse design idioms of the participating architects’, chiefly expressed in the design of the balconies and the change of material colors between the bands of plaster and bricks. Since the ground plan is strictly aligned towards the sun,6 all of the dynamic balcony sides face the austere rear walls of the neighboring building. Goebelstraße is characterized by the atmosphere the bleak rear wall of Otto Bartning’s so-called “Langer Jammer” (long lament). Although the open spaces between the rows are well structured by what are now old trees, they remain largely under-utilized as they are not assigned to specific houses or residents. At the corners of the perimeter, small one-story shops and a primary school with a sports ground contribute to the district’s amenities. The settlement became a style-setting model for countless post-war green row settlements. It now enjoys listed-building status and has been incorporated into the UNESCO World Heritage list. Since the 1960s at the latest, ribbon developments of this type have come under criticism as being monotonous and inhumane. The settlement perimeter of Konrad-Dreher-Straße in Munich-Hadern (density factor 1.03) attempts to avoid such harshness with a village-like structure, offering an “alternative” form of urban-­ development. The Kleinhadern residential settlement was built in the 1950s as part of the westward expansion of Munich. The first buildings in the southern part of the district were erected as ribbon developments in extensive green areas7 and adopted the row structure of Neufriedenheim, the prewar settlement in the neighboring district of Laim. 8 During the most recent construction phase to the north of Konrad-Dreher-Straße, which forms the perimeter under examination, attempts have been made to create a stronger relationship between the buildings and the external space. Here, curved and staggered buildings dating from the 1970s, the 1980s, and the 1990s — along with three freshly refurbished ribbon developments from the early 1960s — form a seemingly organic urban development that has created a succession of the most diverse courtyard-like spaces. Although the buildings, which average 4.3 stories, are an entire story lower than those in the Berlin Ringsiedlung, the district itself has a higher density figure. And although the share of undeveloped space has shrunken as a result, it is now being intensively redesigned. An internal network of landscaped footpaths links the diverse playgrounds and small squares in the various open courtyards in order to put the semi-public space to better use. Outwardly, the buildings along Alpenveilchenstraße to the west — with shops and a home for the elderly on the ground floors, and which widens at the north-west corner to create a small square — form something akin to a perimeter-block-development setting. The district around Konrad-Dreher-Straße is an attempt to combine the two approaches. On the one hand, it seeks to use the qualities of flowing green areas to create refreshing open spaces, like those in Berlin. On the other hand, the buildings, with their inner-city

Density Category 4

5 For a comparison with the Siemens workers’ settlement see the Bonner Straße perimeter in Berlin (density category 6), which, with a comparable height and similarly homogenous population structure (Artists’ Colony), creates enclosed courtyards with a greater occupancy rate. 6 The bedrooms face east and the living rooms — with their balconies — face west (or north and south along Goebelstraße).

7 See the perimeter of Altwiesenstraße in Zurich (density category 3). 8 See the perimeter of Reindlstraße (density category 2). The rows of houses in Kleinhadern, however, comprising three or four stories, are far higher than those in Laim, and contain only one-­ story apartments. There are no private gardens.

87 height and the creation of open courtyards, aim to enhance the utility of these areas by lending them an urban flair. Despite the variety of the spatial range, however, the interior of this hybrid building has a rather abandoned air. 9 The settlement in Prinzgasse in Vienna-Aspern (density factor 1.01) seeks to present an alternative to ribbon developments. With almost the same density factor as Kleinhadern, it pursues a similar strategy, although on a very different scale. The development on the flat and formerly rural district of Donaustadt, to which Aspern belongs, was not executed on the basis of an integrative, superordinate concept, but successively by applying the principle of filling residual spaces.10 For this reason, low row settlements, dating from the 1950s, can be found alongside mixed districts with single-family houses that end abruptly alongside large ten-story structures at the edge of a field. A similarly isolated, largescale settlement can be found on the boundary of Prinzgasse, which was planned and built with prefabricated concrete panels as a municipal settlement of the City of Vienna11 by the architect Oskar Payer from 1972 to 1975. In response to the harsh criticism of freestanding ribbon structures in the first generation of Viennese concrete-panel housing, he developed a new type in Prinzengasse, which permitted cross-corner connections, allowing him to create diverse courtyards with T-shaped layouts in the northern section and zigzag variations in the southern. These courtyards are grouped around the flat-roofed buildings of a small shopping complex that also serves as a cultural and education center.12 Set out diagonally to the streets, the building complexes assert their independence vis-à-vis the flat countryside. The great height of the groups of eleven-story houses also creates the most extensive open spaces with the lowest site-occupancy index in this density category. As in the solution applied in Munich-Neuperlach,13 the pedestrian pathways and the motorized traffic routes are once again clearly separated from one another. Even today, the only way of traveling to Prinzgasse is by car or bus. What Neuperlachan failed to achieve with informal rows of buildings and pedestrian alleyways was to be achieved in Prinzgasse with the aid of concentrated courtyard formations. Both settlements, namely, are intended to open the semi-public green space thus gained to all of the residents. However, likewise in Prinzgasse the individual apartments fail to relate to the exterior space due to the great height and uniformity of the standardized facades, as well as the absence of individually designed house elements and entrances. And even though high facade walls have the lowest site occupancy index (0.15), they create outside spaces of such magnitude that the desired articulation defies all sense of physical scale as far as the residents are concerned. Since the buildings are not mounted on pillars on the ground floor, as demanded by the Athens Charter, the landform is unable to flow, stopping instead at the barriers created by the elongated groups of houses, which can only be crossed here and there via dark courtyard passageways. From within their fortress-like freestanding complexes, residents are more likely to turn their eyes to the wide expanses of countryside than to the immediately nearby planned open spaces of the development.14 The residential development in Meierwiesenstraße, Zurich-Grünau (density factor 1.18) was devised as a new district on the westernmost edge of the city from a master plan by the architects Heinrich Kunz and Oskar Götti between 1975 and 1976. The area — which is rather

Row and Courtyard

9 The Neufriedenheim settlement, which is only a few hundred meters away (see the Reindlstraße perimeter, density category 2) with its U-shaped courtyard composed of rows with private gardens and district roads, is used far more in­­ tensely, despite its stringency.

10 See the Pilotengasse perimeter (density category 2), which is also a development pocket in Vienna.

11 In order to remedy the shortage of accommodation, the city built 16,500 new apartments in Vienna from 1972 to 1977. Many of them were planned by Payer’s architectural office.

12 Unlike Quiddestraße in München-Neuperlach, it lacks a superordinate new center. Prinzgasse stands there like a fragment of an urban utopia lost among the wide open spaces. 13 See Quiddestraße perimeter (density category 3).

14 The adjacent Hirschstetten swimming pool, however, provides top quality public recreation space.

Vienna, Prinzgasse Zurich, Meierwiesenstraße

90 isolated by the motorway flanking it, as well as by the Europabrücke (Europe Bridge) and the River Limmat — was the City of Zurich’s last large land reserve. Hence, it was to be developed as densely as possible to create a district with its own independent local liveliness.15 Consequently, the plans attached great value to sociological considerations, such as a social mix. The settlement displays the widest variety of urban forms of all the four perimeters. Two curved and spandrel-braced rows of resi­ dential buildings, seven to nine floors high and with almost continuous balconies and communal roof gardens, enclose a large park, which receives plenty of sunlight.16 A nineteen-story residential tower rises in the middle, surrounded by public facilities, which include a school with a children’s day-care center, an old people’s home, a post office, and a few shops and businesses in low buildings with an architectural vocabulary of their own. Apartments of varying sizes were designed to attract not only families, but also singles and senior citizens. Subsidized social housing and expensive condominiums were also available.17 Although the large settlement in Grünau has by far the greatest building density of all the four perimeters in this category, it has the same large share of undeveloped space as Vienna’s satellite town. It even seems to have the largest and liveliest outdoor space. In contrast to Vienna, however, it is not broken down into individual courtyards, but consolidated to create a single large open space. In principle, this urban-planning constellation can be viewed as a concentrated transformation of the Berlin ribbon settlement. In Berlin, too, Bartning’s long ribbon development includes an open space created by rows of buildings. In Grünau, however, the large arch seems to be far higher, wider and even more staggered. Here, the creation of free space is concentrated in a single high tower, instead of in rows. In this way, a park has emerged that is well structured by the public buildings and facilities, and which most of the tenants can see from their urban apartments. The large Zurich settlement has tried to get everything right. Clearly structured by the individually designed groups of houses and eminently usable outside spaces, which respond to the specific location, as well as due to the convenient tram link, a rather lively district has arisen on this isolated urban periphery — indeed, one that many of its inhabitants soon gladly identified with.18 Scales The four perimeters in density category 4 reveal the problems arising when insular and isolated structures are inadequately integrated at the urban-development and sociological levels. Here, the quality of the semi-public space and traffic connections has become a hallmark of a project’s success as a residential district. All four areas under study here solely provide single-floor apart­ ments without private gardens. Despite their greater floor-space index, these settlements have, on average, a far smaller share of developed spaces than the districts in density category 3. On the whole, large companies developed these areas on relatively large private plots in a short space of time. The residents arrive at the nondescript entrances to the individual buildings after passing through extensive, private, outside space via narrow footpaths that branch off ring roads. This access-system has allowed the planners to minimize public road space. From the residents’ point of view, approaching their apartments is like taking a tour through a more-or-less

Density Category 4

15 In contrast to the comparable large settlements at Quiddestraße, MünchenNeuperlach (density category 3), and Senftenberger Ring in Berlin (density category 5), the Zurich settlement is not a unit that forms part of a larger urban utopia. It merely wants to be a wellfunctioning new district. 16 The Cité du Lignon in Geneva, which was built not long before, served as the model for this settlement.

17 The fact that the community center was not realized on the scale planned is one reason why Grünau also soon became the target of criticism as an anonymous high-rise settlement, despite its differentiated planning and the social integration. In the meantime, however, people are beginning to appreciate its qualities.

18 See the Bändliweg perimeter (density category 6), which extends the settlement with a new urban structure.

91 well-designed landscaped space. Yet it is precisely these semi-public open spaces, which — in relation to the frequently great height of the buildings with their stereotypically anonymous facades — are the problem zones in this system. These spaces are neither explicitly assigned to the individual houses, nor do they relate personally to the residents. Hence, in contrast to the equally distributed low rows of the 1950s Zurich settlement around Altwiesestraße,19 all of the buildings in category 4 seek to establish relationships between the individual buildings. Ultimately, however, it is less a question of creating smallscale structures than of establishing good, practical relationships between structural masses and free spaces, and a relationship to the locality in question.

Row and Courtyard

19 See the Altwiesenstraße perimeter in Zurich (density category 3).

Density Category 5

( 1.2  — 1.5 )

Urban Apartments in Green Areas 3: Courtyard and Garden

Munich, Holbeinstraße

94

Density Category 5

Green and Compact In the districts selected in density category 5, there is a spatial transition from the open row development characterizing the previous category to the initial formulation of urban block-edge developments with private courtyards and gardens. As the Senftenberger Ring perimeter shows, this degree of density pushes the development of large greened settlements to the limits of feasibility with respect to both staggered levels and development. Thus, in the three other perimeters the traditional urban house of moderate height is shifted closer to the street again, and the green spaces are cultivated as small, parceled private gardens. Overall, the hierarchical boundary between public street space and private property is the defining element in the perimeters analyzed here, with the exception of Berlin’s Märkisches Viertel where the distinction is still blurred. Owing to the small number of full stories (of which there are only three or four), the share of undeveloped space in these cases sinks while the density increases. At the same time, the share of public space is growing: because instead of developing more efficient ring-roads around semi-public rural spaces, the street network here becomes more finely meshed, encompassing clearly laid-out block structures. Smaller parcels allow each house to create its own personal address, which is directly accessible via the public space. This allows a district to develop dynamically, even when the density is high — as in this case. Despite the creation of urban block development, open space remains extremely important for people living in urban environments. The Perimeter The settlement of prefabricated concrete-panel housing at Senftenberger Ring in Berlin-Reinickendorf (density factor 1.44) forms part of the Märkisches Viertel, a satellite town developed between 1963 and 1974. At the time of its completion, it was West Berlin’s largest new settlement in the north of the city, close to the border with East Berlin. Over 35 local and international architects contributed to the design of the new district. Initially, some 17,000 apartments were planned to accommodate people displaced from the inner city areas then undergoing redevelopment, as well as refugees from East Berlin. Later the social structure changed, so that for a long time the Märkisches Viertel epitomized the problems of anonymous large settlements with a considerable proportion of immigrants. A new political landscape, post-reunification reconstruction and other improvements have since defused the situation.1 Not unlike Neuperlach,2 Munich’s satellite town, a variety of large residential blocks with diverse landscape features are grouped around a central area containing water basins, a shopping centre, and cultural and social facilities. The main access road — the Senftenberger Ring, which gave the new satellite town its name — encircles the development. The perimeter under discussion forms the eastern part of this large ring development. The narrow buildings, constituiting T-shaped structures that range in height from eleven to fourteen stories, were ­designed by American architect Astra Zarina, whereas the long elevenstories-high zigzag buildings to the east were designed by the architects René Gagès and Volker Theissen. The staggered urban formation endeavors to create a succession of open courtyards, reminiscent of the area around Prinzgasse in Vienna, 3 although the buildings in Berlin are ten meters higher on average. And although in comparison the

1 Since German reunification, the population structure — which has always characterized by migration — is better integrated, and the demolition of the nearby Berlin Wall has improved its position by de-marginalizing the area. 2 See the Quiddestraße perimeter (density category 3).

3 See the Prinzgasse perimeter (density category 4).

95

Courtyard and Garden

undeveloped area in this case increases slightly, namely to 87 percent, the share of public space falls by approximately 8 percent to roughly half that of Vienna and Munich due to the fact that the greater part of the area centered on Senftenberger Ring is only semi-public or in other words de facto private space. Correspondingly, for a considerable length of time the use of semi-public spaces between the stereotypical facade mountainscapes posed a problem because hardly anyone felt themselves to be responsible for their maintenance. Nowadays the green areas are admittedly being tended and the occasional child can be seen in the playgrounds, but on the whole these spaces appear as deserted as those in the comparable large settlement perimeters. The height and monotony of these developments reveal even more starkly the problems of semi-public spaces between buildings. It is interesting here to compare a large residential settlement of this nature with a city district of similar density that has evolved in a traditional manner. The perimeter around Holbeinstraße in MunichBogenhausen (density factor 1.37) is a mixed block-edge district. Most of its grand residential houses were built between the second half of the nineteenth century and the present. After the village of Bogenhausen was incorporated into the city in 1892, the hill ridge on the other side of the River Isar became one of Munich’s most popular villa districts. The perimeter, which is surrounded by detached houses with gardens, forms core of Bogenhausen, which is dominated by attached building structures. At the time it was being built, a rural atmosphere prevailed in front of the town gates, which is still reflected in the style of many of the facades with their lively bays, gables, and balconies. The differentiated design of the facades helps to provide each building in the row of attached structures with its own distinctive address. 4 Averaging four floors, the height of these buildings is inspired by inner-city block-edge developments. 5 Here, however, the building lines are set back from the sidewalk, forming small front gardens that green the streets, and because of the similar widths of the public roads appear more spacious than those in the city. The private and public areas are kept quite separate from one another. And although the undeveloped area of just under 67 percent is a full 20 percent lower than that of Senftenberger Ring, its share of public space — at more than 23 percent — is almost four times that of the large Berlin settlement. As this perimeter features hardly any genuine town squares, existing public spaces are spread across the street network, which is lined by sidewalks and space reserved for parking. Small businesses and restaurants are scattered across the district, contributing to the peaceful street life. Although the population density of the Munich pro­ ject is only about half that of the Berlin one, private and public exterior spaces appear to be far more intensively used in the former case than in the semi-public spaces in the Märkisches Viertel.

4 Typologically, one could view the perimeter at Holbeinstraße with its prestigious facades, cultivated front gardens and garden courtyard as a condensed version of Larochegasse in Vienna (density category 3). The impression that Larochegasse is greener, is not only due to its more informal construction and larger share of garden space, but also to the trees lining the public street space that are largely absent in Munich. 5 See, for instance, the Munich perimeters Pariser Platz (density category 7) and Tal (density category 8).

The housing area of Scheuchzerstraße in Zurich-Oberstraß (density factor 1.28) constitutes a compromise between greening a district and simultaneously sustaining a high density. The settlement lies at the southwestern foot of the Zürichberg, just below the expensive villa district.6 Like the latter, it arose after 1893 in the former hillside vineyards when it was incorporated into the City of Zurich. As it was close to the inner city, however, the city and investors decided on a more concentrated development. The network of quiet residential streets adapts to the sloping terrain and creates blocks of various shapes and sizes. Nevertheless, the stringent development plan creates such a tight corset that the district as a whole radiates a very peaceful,

6 See the Schlösslistraße perimeter (density category 2).

Berlin, Senftenberger Ring Zurich, Scheuchzerstraße

Zurich, Scheuchzerstraße Vienna, Ringofenweg next page: Zurich, Scheuchzerstraße

100 homogenous atmosphere. To ensure that every single parcel of land on the slope receives as much sun as possible and to give the district a garden-like flair, the 1901 development plan prescribed an open building layout involving free-standing multifamily buildings.7 The streetfront widths of the buildings were not permitted to exceed 25 meters, whereas the plot could be developed up to a border margin of seven meters. This was the plan adopted for the residential development in Oberstraß between 1904 and 1914, where the typical deep and ­slender four-story residential houses are surrounded by narrow gardens with side entrances. The building height constituted an urban benchmark, whilst the clear division between public and private spaces in an interplay with the diversity of the variously designed individual buildings creates a sense of personal situation. Matching their bourgeois clientele, aside from a few in Art-Nouveau style the houses were generally constructed in the particular Swiss domestic-revival style (Heimatstil) that was in the process of emerging at the time. 8 The heavy roofs, sgraffito ornamentation, large balcony loggias and the old hedges and trees in the gardens lend the district a decidedly homely and almost intimate atmosphere, despite its urban habitus. 9 With respect to the floor-space and site-occupancy indices as well as the share of public spaces, the figures for Zurich are slightly lower those for Munich. The distribution of living space in single-floor apartments within free-standing houses creates an elegant symbiosis based on the feeling of living in a home of one’s own and at the same time of participating in urban life. All these aspects make the district one of the most popular in the whole of Zurich, and also affect the rents, which are even higher than in they are in the exclusive Bogenhausen district in Munich.

Density Category 5

7 The Zurich Building Code of 1901 generally prohibited using sealed developments (that is, no openings between buildings) on slopes.

8 The Heimatstil was a twentieth-century movement within architecture in several European countries which, inspired by an idealized rural model, sought to promote regional and native building styles. 9 Compare the Larochegasse perimeter in Vienna (density category 2), which displays a similar structure. However, with its lower building height, larger gardens and prestigious villa facades, it radiates a grander atmosphere.

In the late 1980s, the planners of the residential settlement around

Ringofenweg in Vienna-Favoriten (density factor 1.31) attempted to

learn from the experiences of the past. The working-class district of Favoriten has a densely built centre with block-edge developments dating from the Gründerzeit. Like Vienna’s Donaustadt, experiments were also conducted on its boundaries with a wide variety of developments ranging from single-family houses to prefabricated concretepanel housing settlements. The perimeter under examination lies between the southeast expressway and the large Wienerberg natural recreation area. It is part of the Wienerberggründe residential settlement, which arose on the site of the former Wienerberger Ziegelwerke (brickworks). Otto Häuselmayer won a competition to design the settlement in 1980; between 1984 and 1996, approximately 2,000 residential units were ultimately realized in three stages, with contributions by a number of architects, in addition to Häuselmayer.10 After the negative experiences with anonymous large settlements such as that on Prinzgasse,11 which is similar to those in the Märkisches Viertel in Berlin, the planners began looking for alternatives. By developing Ringofenweg, they wanted to cost-effectively allow a more urban social lifestyle to evolve that also took advantages of the benefits of living on the periphery. The site’s proximity to the local Wienerberg recreation area and excellent transportation links to the inner city seemed to provide ideal preconditions for achieving this goal. The settlement arose within the scope of the “Vollwertwohnen” (lit. wholesome or full-value living) housing program, which sought to create more attractive town apartments offering a better quality of life and thereby slow people moving from the city to the countryside. As in the model settlement on Pilotengasse12 in Vienna-Aspern, a great

10 Architects who joined Otto Häuselmayer included, among others, Otto Steidle, Helmut Wimmer, Adolf Krischanitz, Heinz Tesar, and Gustav Peichl. 11 See perimeter Prinzgasse (density category 4).

12 See perimeter Pilotengasse (density category 2).

102 variety of different housing models is to be found in the Wienerberggründen settlement. Block-edge developments, courtyard buildings and ribbon developments create a three-to-four-story urban street space along Otto-Probst-Straße. At the same time, the development containing the point-blocks of Gustav Peichl’s “dancing rural villas” disperses loosely as it reaches the lakeside recreational area of the Lehmgrubensee. In order to guarantee individuality and to encourage identification among the residents with their own house and district, a large number of architects were called upon to apply their personal architectural styles. However, the diversity of executed residential forms also betrays a certain sense of helplessness with regard to the correct form. This stems from a critical attitude towards large mon­ otonous settlements, such as that on Senftenberger Ring in Berlin. At the same time, investor-friendly solutions had to be found in order to develop the largest possible parcels. The division of the quadrangular perimeter into five sites, which are accessed via a ring road flanked ­ by parking spaces and three cul-de-sacs, calls to mind the structure (the larger share of which comprises semi-public outside spaces) of large settlements. On the other hand, the insular location of the district, eight kilometers outside the inner city center, evokes more of a suburban atmosphere. With a relatively low height of approximately three floors and a small share of undeveloped space, the settlement nevertheless placed its hopes in neighborly closeness encompassing a wealth of spatial options. In this regard, it is more like a concentrated form of the village-like structure of the Neufriedenheim settlement in Munich,13 only with the difference that the Viennese plan envisioned single-story apartments and hardly any private gardens.

Density Category 5

13 See perimeter Reindlstraße in Munich (density category 2).

Yearning for Symbiosis Housing programs like that of the “Vollwertwohnen” in Vienna embody the longings and expectations associated with the housing in density category 5. Its planners are evidently searching for a symbiosis between a tightly knit urban community and living close to nature.14 This demand, however, is best satisfied by developments that clearly place their hopes in an urban habitus and self-confidently embed townhouses in private green spaces. In districts such as those in Munich’s Holbeinstraße or Scheuchzerstraße in Zurich, there is a strictly structured stratification of spaces from the road across the sidewalk, and from there to the front yard, the house and the garden space. The atmosphere has an urban feel. But it is, first and foremost, the rurally inspired design of the facades, the well-kept gardens and the surrounding villa districts that keep that feeling of living in the country alive. Furthermore, the overhanging balconies provide the individual apartments with bountiful private outside spaces. At the same time, the share of undeveloped areas and public spaces for encounters increases. In both Munich and Zurich, the symbiosis of urban and rural qualities is intensified by the fact that both the nearby recreation areas and inner cities can be easily reached on foot. As a result, these two districts can easily satisfy the longing for urban life in natural surroundings. The development on Ringofenweg, which has a similar density, takes shape much less decisively. Inside the district itself, it relies upon people being able to walk to both the street-side shops and the recreational space with the lakes beyond it. The houses, however, are at least one whole story lower than they are in Munich and Zurich, and the ensemble appears to be closed in on itself. Here, the

14 See also Kurt Tucholsky’s poem “The Ideal” in the chapter “Wouldn’t you just love it?” in the introduction to this book, which describes with satirical aptness the concept of “full-value living” used in the settlement.

103 greater distance to the inner city preserves the atmosphere of an isolated suburban community. The Märkisches Viertel, on the periphery of Berlin, strives to be far more consistent by creating its own satellite town as a similar symbiosis of urban and rural life. In reality, the district fails to establish either a well-functioning urban center or to provide usable green spaces. By concentrating its density vertically, it tends to establish spatially far-off reference points rather than creating the basis for wellfunctioning district life.

Courtyard and Garden

Density Category 6

( 1.5  — 1.9 )

Inner-City Mixture 1: Courtyard and Street

Munich, Tumblingerstraße

Vienna, Hasnerstraße

107

Courtyard and Street

The Search for the Urban Form Analysis of the districts in density category 6 shows a shift in the

focus of urban-planning from open spaces to street and courtyard space.

During the second half of the nineteenth century, industrialization triggered an explosion in population growth. At the time nearly all large cities in Central Europe drafted urban expansion plans, which included a comprehensive approach to incorporating surrounding districts and towns. In order to make efficient use of the expanded area, block-edge frontages became the characteristic urban form of the period. Access provided thanks to public transport, such as railway and tram networks, also played an important role. Although the two perimeters in Vienna and Munich discussed here date from the Gründerzeit, they respond differently to the ­question of density and the relationship of the road to the courtyard. The Berlin district sought to learn from the mistakes of the past ­ and to clarify and improve the form of the block perimeter. In Zurich, the youngest perimeter was developed on the basis of compact ­single volumes and sought to reinterpret the concentrated block-edge ­development under the banner of economic and ecological efficiency. All four perimeters shared the goal of wanting to create distinct urban spaces in formerly suburban areas. Even now, however, these perimeters are still not part of the inner cores of their respective cities. They have good traffic connections with their city centers and peripheries and seek the advantages offered by local communities. With the notable exception of Zurich, semi-public space now plays a subordinate role. Conversely, the drawing of boundaries between the street, the house and the courtyard is becoming increasingly important. The Perimeter Analysis of the district begins with an urban-planning experiment. The perimeter on Bändliweg in Zurich-Grünau (density factor 1.55) attempts an inversion of the traditional block-edge development. Thus architect Adrian Streich has located the building masses where one would expect the development to feature courtyards, and a semi-public space occupies the area where the block edge would normally stand alongside roads.1 The result is a large area in the middle of Grünau dotted with cubic buildings with relatively deep plans and generous balconies. The areas between the buildings are designed as a loose succession of open spaces with differing solid surfaces interspersed with public art installations. 2 The idiosyncratic constellation of the Werdwies settlement must be considered within the context of its immediate environment. In 2007, the perimeter replaced a simple housing settlement with low rows of blocks surrounding a long, introverted courtyard. On the one hand, the new point blocks open the space to the north to the green areas and to the public facilities of the large Grünau settlement, dating from the 1970s,3 whilst on the other hand they create a transition to the smaller parcels to the south. The settlement appears to be standing on a piazza, which now forms the new center of Grünau. A comparison of the analytical parameters with those of the neighboring settlement reveals that, despite the far greater density and slightly lower average height of the buildings in Werdwies, the share of undeveloped space there has declined while that of public spaces increases dramatically. The public-space distribution plan, however,

1 If the courtyards were filled in with a traditional perimeter development and the houses on the block edge were torn down, all that would remain would be compact, cubic buildings, similar to those in the plan for Bändliweg development. 2 Landscape architect André Schmid designed the open spaces, which also feature a fountain by artist Ugo Roninone and a series of flags by Frédéric Post.

3 See the Meierwiesenstraße perimeter (density category 4).

Berlin, Bonner Straße Zurich, Bändliweg

110

Density Category 6

immediately reveals that the latter are concentrated only around the large parcel on Ringstraße. The public spaces themselves belong entirely to the semi-private area of the settlement. As this area has been divided into smaller-scale units, the intermediate space is more difficult to use4 than the larger spaces in the neighboring 1970s’ settlement, which are evenly weighted according to function. Although all of the residential cubes have semi-public uses on the ground floor, such as a small supermarket, a kindergarten and small businesses, the lack of walk-in customers relegates them to languish in the tranquil envi­ron­ ment at the core of the settlement. The plan is focused on providing good, spacious apartments. This is confirmed when one compares the occupancy rate of the two settlements: the apartments in Werdwies offer each resident almost one-and-half-times the living area than those in the adjacent Großsiedlung.

4 The formally different designs of the individual open spaces — which despite their similar use and size are intended to create squares of diverse character — show that they did not evolve in response to local amenities and requirements.

The Künstlerkolonie (Artists’ Colony) bordering Bonner Straße in Berlin-Wilmersdorf (density factor 1.53) represents an opposite approach to urban planning. Here clearly defined block-edge devel­ opments surround large courtyards with a park-like design. A network of tree-lined streets, combined with green front yards, forms the settlement’s closely meshed public access, with the public square of Ludwig-Barnay-Platz at its center. The Künstlerkolonie Berlin was developed between 1927 and 1931 according to a master plan by the architect Ernst Paulus and his son Günther Paulus as the southern extension of the so-called garden city around Rüdesheimer Platz, which had been created before the First World War. It aimed to offer artists and writers without any social security comfortable apartments at an affordable rent. A large number of well-known artists lived in the colony until the National Socialists came to power. The high concentration of left-wing intellectuals made the district a target of National Socialist attacks after 1933. 5 Many were forcibly evicted, others joined the resistance, and some returned after the war. The settlement is now protected as a historical site. As the Künsterlkolonie was home to a community of kindred spirits, and its planners attached great value to the communicative qualities of the outside spaces, the blocks’ courtyards offer an alternative to the cramped tenements of the Gründerzeit, 6 and were deliberately designed as open places where people could encounter each other. Barnay-Platz was the public focal point and meeting place of the district. A comparison of the figures of the colony with those of the Werdwies settlement in Zurich reveals that — with almost the same floorspace-index and slightly lower building height — the share of unde­ veloped space is slightly lower in the Berlin settlement, while the public areas are dramatically larger. The street network is spacious and open, creating squares as focal points. Furthermore, the diverse courtyards are semi-public in character, offering yet another hierarchy of meeting places, albeit clearly allocated to their respective residential blocks.7 Apart from a church and a parish hall, there are no public institutions or businesses in this perimeter. The district is well integrated into the public transport system and has, to this day, the character of a quiet residential district with little road traffic.

5 Immediately after the National Socialists gained power in 1933, there were raids on the colony and people were arrested. Numerous prominent residents, such as Ernst Bloch, Walter Hasenclever, Arthur Koestler and many others either left Germany or went underground to organize the resistance, for instance in the Revolutionary Workers and Soldiers (RAS) group. 6 See for example the perimeters Christburger Straße (density category 7) and Raabestraße (density category 8).

The building structure in Hasnerstraße in Vienna-Ottakring (density structure 1.62) increases in density in both toward the streets and toward the courtyards. The perimeter extends across the boundary between the districts of Ottakring and Neulerchenfeld, and is typical of the Gründerzeit

7 Compare the roughly contempor­aneous ribbon development in the Goebelstraße perimeter in Berlin (density category 4), which with a similar overall height and a lower density creates mostly semi-public spaces.

111 developments on the other side of the Wiener Gürtel. 8 When Ottak­ring was industrialized in the latter half of the nineteenth century, the neighboring district of Neulerchenfeld experienced a sudden population growth. 9 To accommodate the great number of new residents, a new district based on a regular grid comprised of rectangular blocks measuring approximately 60 by 130 meters was created between the two cores. As mostly workers and trades-persons lived and worked here, intensive building use was made of the interior courtyards, which feature low rear buildings, commercial buildings, stables and garden houses. Many of the structures are remnants of the modest single or two-story buildings from the early days of the district. The taller buildings along the block edge were added in the late nineteenth century. Lacking front yards, the building line runs directly on the street. Public green space is concentrated in a few park areas, such as the forecourt of the district council offices and the trees lining Hasnerstraße. As a result, despite the variety of building heights the overall impression of the district is of an urban environment dominated by stone. As only 50 percent of this area contains undeveloped space, the grid of this perimeter, which is used in an extremely efficient manner, has the lowest value of all of the four areas analyzed here. At the same time, despite its far higher building density, it has a similarly high share of public space as the Berlin Künstlerkolonie (31 percent). Semi-­ public space is almost non-existent here. Owing to the hustle and bustle in the block, however, the closely structured public open spaces are used far more intensively. In the district, one still finds a wide variety of small businesses, shops, restaurants and other eateries. The high residency concentration and the buildings’ close-proximity to one another generally ensure relatively low rents, thus creating a district with a large mixture of locals and outsiders from abroad. The division into smaller parcels and the option to convert existing courtyard structures or to erect small new buildings promote the continued dynamic development of the district. The Schlachthofviertel (slaughterhouse district) surrounding Tum­ blinger­straße in Isarvorstadt, Munich (density factor 1.78) is another Gründerzeit district for workers and craftsmen. In 1878, Munich’s central slaughterhouse and stockyard, as well as its rail link, was built in Isarvorstadt. It rapidly attracted small-scale businesses, primarily butchers, tanneries and textile operations, which were predominantly run by Galician Jews. Together with diverse other small trades, they settled to the north of the new slaughterhouse complex, transforming the district into a lively area. Although many of the houses were destroyed during the Second World War, a large number were rebuilt, and many Gründerzeit buildings have been preserved to this day. Although the district adopted the building-line plans approved when the abattoir was built, the quarter’s structure seems to have developed more organically than that of the Viennese grid. The block developments are far larger and do not form sealed perimeter developments, but dense conglomerates comprising detached houses and small blocks. Only on the outer margins of the perimeter are the blocks enclosed by rows of taller buildings. In this way, the entire quarter interior is shielded from the very busy main roads that surround it. A network of narrow paths leads to the individual buildings, which are set close to one another within each rectangle of the district. The development thus retains a sense of openness, despite the building density, and allows for transverse routes between the blocks.

Courtyard and Street 8 See also the Fockygasse perimeter (density category 7). 9 The population of Neulerchenfeld rose from a 6,000 in 1850 to 45,000 in 1890. Ottakring had a population of over 7,000 in 1850 and just under 62,000 in 1890. After its incorporation into the City of Vienna in 1892, the number continued to rise.

112 In Ruppertstraße and Schmellerstraße, the houses have front gardens, which together with the trees between the buildings create a very green atmosphere. The large area occupied by the predominantly fourstory buildings and their density produce the highest floor-space index in this category. And although the share of public space is relatively low at 24.5 percent, the district seems more spacious and much more tranquil and verdant than the comparable district in Vienna.10 As the surrounding districts of the Glockebach and Gärtnerplatz have been greatly redeveloped over the past few years and are currently experiencing rapid gentrification, rents are also rising in the more modest Schlachthofquartier. Residents seem to value the qualities of the district despite its dense development. Private and Public The districts in density category 6 are trying — each in their own way — to find the right relationship between public and private space. And although the relatively high density limits semi-public space, three of the perimeters mentioned experiment with this spatial category. The Werdwies settlement in Zurich turns semi-public space inside out in an endeavor to maximize public interaction, but in the process merely manages to create a somewhat ambiguous suburban setting. The Künstlerkolonie in Berlin attempts to establish defined hierarchies between the semi-public courtyard spaces, the front yards, the streets and the park areas, resulting in a very peaceful, green and homogenous district with little street life. The network of narrow paths between the housing blocks in Munich also creates narrow semi-public spaces, although the latter are clearly designed to provide access to the various buildings within each block, taking on the function of alleys. The front yards overlooking the streets serve, in part, as small patios for the patrons of local restaurants and cafes or as forecourts of businesses, thus contributing to a bustling street life. For all its density, the district offers a pleasant mix of residential and commercial uses, promoting communication among residents, and without losing its peaceful neighborhood qualities. Only the perimeter in Vienna dispenses completely with semipublic spaces. Having the highest site occupancy index, it also creates the greatest level of public life, since all of the spaces outside of the blocks are assigned distinctly public functions, for instance as streets and squares. In the streets, this concentration of life can be felt everywhere, making it the noisiest and liveliest district in this category. With an occupancy index of 60 square meters per inhabitant, apartments offer just over half the space available to each resident in Werdwies, Zurich. It is only thanks to grants from the city that these apartments in Zurich are still affordable. Here too, however, the great transformation in tenants’ demands on residential space is making itself felt.

Density Category 6

10 Compare the Scheuchenzerstraße perimeter in Zurich (density category 5), which with a lesser density, smaller blocks and a greater share of roads has a similar distribution of detached buildings.

Vienna, Hasnerstraße

Density Category 7

( 1.9  —  2.3 )

Inner-City Mixture 2: Grids, Axes and Squares

Berlin, Christburger Straße next page: Vienna, Fockygasse

117

Grids, Axes and Squares

Urban Expansions in the Gründerzeit Density category 7 combines four classic urban expansions in the Gründerzeit and reveals the similarities in their histories and how each of the four cities in question realized a different solution. In the mid-nineteenth century, industrialization unleashed an unprecedented economic boom in Central Europe. One consequence was a rural exodus that resulted in a rapid rise in the demand for affordable housing in the cities. New urban districts sprang up within a short period of time, some of them on greenfield sites. This was the era of widespread incorporation of suburbs and the birth of metro­p­ olises. The pace of urban expansion and the population explosion required not only hygienic sewage systems and wastewater treatment, but also a completely new infrastructure for mass transit. Railways became an important engine for the economy, and equally for the development of the urban structure. Railway stations and train tracks were the structuring elements of the new conurbations, and provided much needed transportation for the residents. The Gründerzeit street grid comprising perimeter block developments with four to six-story apartment buildings emerged as the most efficient urban planning form of the era, and Central European cities are still largely defined by them to this day. The greatest difficulty posed by this type of construction consisted in the lack of regulation with regard to building density. Most building regulations tended to focus exclusively on planning the public space for streets and squares, as well the distribution of schools, government buildings and cultural institutions. Within each block—and especially in the courtyards at their center—rampant building speculation could proceed virtually unchecked. The verdant ribbon developments of modernism must be understood as a liberating reaction to the oppressive, crowded conditions of this era of speculation.1 It is interesting to note, that, in contrast to modernism, the perimeter block-edge development from the Gründerzeit created clearly defined districts, which are still regarded as the very essence of urbanity in Central Europe. Today these formerly impoverished workers’ districts count among the most popular residential areas in the cities, albeit with significantly lower residency concentrations. After the destruction resulting from both world wars, a deliberate approach to revitalizing and opening up the courtyard spaces has transformed the buildings into generous living spaces in a mixed-use setting of small shops, pubs and a variety of housing options. They also benefit from good links to public transportation and are close to the city centers. Gentrification is now in full swing, affecting nearly all the districts preserved from the Gründerzeit.

1 This phase of speculation came to an abrupt end with the financial crisis commonly known as the Panic of 1873. Recovery would only occur towards the end of the nineteenth century, which saw the advent of a renewed building boom.

The Pertimeter The district centered on the Christburger Straße in Berlin-Prenzlauer Berg (density factor 2.12) demonstrates the principles and challenges

of a development from the late Gründerzeit in an unusually pure form. To this day, Prenzlauer Berg is the largest preserved Gründerzeit district in Germany. Even its origins were marked by superlatives. As population numbers soared in Berlin at the beginning of the nineteenth century due to the mass migration from rural areas, living conditions in the narrow tenements within the city walls deteriorated so severely that the city administration drafted plans for extensive urban expansion all around Berlin and its leafy neighbor Charlottenburg. After several failed planning attempts, 2 James Hobrecht, a building inspector

2 As early as 1840, landscape architect Peter Joseph Lenné, who held the title of Prussian Garden Director, planned a major ring boulevard around the city. However, the boulevard was too ambitious and generous in scale.

118 appointed by the Royal Ministry of the Interior, developed the eponymous “Hobrecht Plan”, which was completed in 1862; this plan was to serve as a blueprint for the implementation over the next fifty years of what was at the time Europe’s most ambition urban expansion. 3 The goal of the plan was to create a functioning street network with suitable sanitation and supply lines, as well as space for train tracks and railway stations. However, Hobrecht did not provide a detailed development plan; instead he developed a so-called alignment or sightline plan, defining a system of axes and boulevard-like ring roads radiating outwards from the core. This plan merely established the boundaries between the public streets and squares and the land set aside for block development without establishing a more detailed parcel structure or their maximum use. To begin with Hobrecht only determined that the streets should be bordered by residential buildings of no more than six stories and an eaves height of 20 meters, and that the rear buildings and courtyards were to be used for workers’ housing and workshops. These regulations would, he hoped, lead to social diversity among the residents in the new districts. However, since the only stipulation of the building inspection act of 1853 was that the courtyards at the center of the perimeter blocks must measure at least 5.34 by 5.34 meters4 without any further regulatory definitions as to land use, the door was left wide open to speculation. Berlin therefore saw the rapid development of the Wilhelminian tenement housing ring, characterized by spacious front buildings contrasting with an extremely crowded, poorly ventilated housing environment in the rear buildings. 5 Prenzlauer Berg forms the largest portion of this ring. In the older sections of the district, which are close to the inner city, the density was especially high with up to eight courtyards per block.6 It was only after the building sector had recovered following the market crash of 1873 and a new building boom with extremely dense development ensued as the turn of the century approached, that the authorities were compelled to tighten the building regulations. The amended act called for markedly larger rear courtyards, with the result most of the newer buildings were on two adjacent parcels forming a C-shape around a common inner courtyard. The eaves height was raised to a maximum of 22 meters and the number of stories was limited to five. At the end of the 1890s, the development reached the Danziger Straße ring, which formed the northeastern boundary of the Hobrecht Plan. Bounded by the Christburger and the Danziger Straße, the perimeter represents an exemplary implementation of this new planning scheme. Whereas the older development blocks in Prenzlauer Berg are characterized by a large street grid with high-density land use and multiple courtyards, this perimeter features two additional parallel roads, dividing the area into three narrow rectangles with parcels of more or less identical dimensions. The result is a series of well-lit and ventilated apartments distributed across two front buildings and one connecting or transverse wing.7 With this clear urban structure, the perimeter on Christburger Straße achieves the highest density of the four districts in this category. Although the perimeter also boasts the highest proportion of public space with over 40 percent, this is concentrated in the streetscape, without offering any open space of recreational value. 8 The EastGerman regime allowed the area to fall into disrepair, preferring to erect new pre-fabricated housing blocks. Following Germany’s reunification in 1990 there was a surge of interest in the many preserved buildings from the Gründerzeit, and Prenzlauer Berg became the largest urban-renewal area in Europe. With a significantly reduced residency concentration, the mix of wide, tree-lined streets, small shops, spacious

Density Category 7

3 In 1861, Berlin had a population of 525,000 and the Hobrecht Plan was based on a projected growth over the next fifty years to a total of 1.5 to 2 million inhabitants. In reality, the po­pu­ lation soared to roughly 1.9 million by 1910.

4 This was the minimum turning radius for the fire engines then in use.

5 With an average of 110 residents per building, the Prenzlauer Berg district was one of the most densely populated areas in the world. (By comparison, in 1920 London had an overage of eight residents per building and New York an average of seventeen residents per building.) 6 For more detail on the older districts in Prenzlauer Berg, see the Raabestraße perimeter (density category 8).

7 The typical Prenzlauer Berg building of the era is 18 meters wide, with a fivestory front building which housed retail shops and businesses on the ground floor and two apartments per upper floor. Additionally, the building would have a side wing or transverse structure, often with four apartments per floor for poorer tenants. The monotony of the building was cleverly relieved through differing facade designs. 8 The Hobrecht Plan envisioned a large public space for this perimeter. However, as land and property owners were rarely compensated by the city for such spaces, they built over these areas as well. Today the district is bordered by the wide streetscapes of the Danziger and the Greifswalder Straße, as well as the Landsberger Allee with its streetcar tracks.

Vienna, Fockygasse

Munich, Pariser Platz Zurich, Kanzleistraße next page: Zurich, Kanzleistraße

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Grids, Axes and Squares

apartments in the street-facing buildings and quiet courtyard units, seems to function better than ever today. The area also benefits from excellent public transportation links with two streetcar lines and the S-Bahn rapid transit ring. The grid in the perimeter on the Fockygasse in Vienna-Meidling (density factor 1.96) is similarly dense as that in the Prenzlauer Berg

district. In contrast to Berlin, however, Vienna never developed a comprehensive urban expansion plan. 9 Nevertheless, the Gründerzeit development with two ring roads (Ring and Gürtelstraße) and streets radiating outward from the ring roads resembles in principle the Berlin model. While Vienna also experienced rapid growth in the nineteenth century, land-use solutions were realized in smaller increments here with site-specific developments. The perimeter under analysis lies outside the Gaudenzdorfer Gürtel or ring. The Gürtelstraße was constructed from 1873 onward by creating a loop with the old Linienwall fortifications. This effectively lifted the building restrictions around the city wall, with the result that new residential districts sprang up all around Vienna in the area between the ring and the historic cores of the suburbs. Like the perimeter on Hasnerstraße,10 the small area on the Fockygasse in this zone lies immediately outside of the former fortifications and is characterized by a largely uniform street grid. And as in the former, tall perimeter block developments overlooking the streets surround courtyard spaces with lower commercial buildings and modest housing units. At five stories, the front buildings are one story higher than those in Ottakring, and are only rarely completed with rear buildings of equal height. In contrast to the industrially optimized row system on Christburger Straße, the homogenous street elevations in this perimeter hide a diverse environment of courtyards that developed virtually unfettered by regulations. The relatively high percentage of public space is concentrated exclusively in the street space, much the same as in Berlin. The intersection of the Wolfgang- and Steinbauergasse creates a focal point. In contrast to most of the narrow side roads, which are nearly devoid of greenery, these two streets are somewhat wider and bordered by a tree-lined green verge, which provides a far more pleasant outdoor environment. These streets are also home to small shops and restaurants. It is evident that the lively quarter has the highest occupancy rate in this density category. The prevailing atmosphere is of a simple, densely populated workers’ district with a high percentage of foreign-born residents. The basic urban plan of the perimeter on Kanzleistraße in ZurichAußersihl (density factor 1.96) strongly resembles that of the perimeter in Vienna. Außersihl, too, was created from a suburban community, located on the far side of the old city fortifications and the River Sihl. The community encompasses the flood plain of the Limmat and Sihl rivers, and was initially only sparsely populated. It was chosen as a site for executions and slaughterhouse pits (functions that were undesirable in the city proper), giving the area a poor reputation for many years.11 However, when Zurich also experienced a rapid population growth with the onset of industrialization, Außersihl offered the largest area of land for development on the periphery of the city. By the time it was incorporated into the city in 1893, it had already surpassed Old Zurich in area and population. The city sought to improve the area by erecting buildings such as the barracks, the customs house and various schools. The urban district would nevertheless remain one of the most impoverished in Zurich. In response to the poor

9 Although Otto Wagner won the competition for a “general regulation plan” for the City of Vienna in 1893, the plan was only partially realized in the form of small fragments.

10 See the Hasnerstraße perimeter in Vienna-Ottakring (density category 6).

11 The area in Zurich’s municipal district 4 is still called “Cheib”, Swiss German for animal cadaver.

124 conditions in the densely populated Außersihl, the revised building act of 186312 introduced regulations on the appearance of urban areas, and authorized high-density closed construction to replace the impoverished individual buildings. During the rampant speculation that accompanied the economic boom at the end of the nineteenth century, this type of development spread quickly.13 The quarter on Kanzlei­ straße experienced the same transformation and adhered to the new guidelines with the construction of five-story housing blocks, most of which were erected toward the end of the 1890s. The construction of the rail freight depot and the rail tracks attracted mostly Italian construction workers who settled in the area bounded by curving track of the Seebahn, within which the perimeter is located. The workers proudly displayed their newly won proletarian awareness and self-confidence in stately Renaissance Revival facades. When the post-1900 property crisis burst the speculation bubble, all construction ceased on Kanzleistraße. It was only during the upswing in the 1920s and 1930s that building societies finally completed the layout of the district by constructing uniformly designed block edges. In contrast to the compact blocks with their labyrinthine courtyards in Vienna’s Fockygasse, the street blocks along Zurich’s Kanzlei­ straße are smaller, and the narrower block-edge developments enclose multiple open courtyards. Only the older courtyards are pos­ itioned in the center of a block, which accommodate detached, low commercial buildings. Individual locations in the district also feature two-story commercial buildings directly on the street, and serve as a reminder of the area’s proletarian past. More recent courtyards in developments realized by building societies have small landscaped areas with children’s playgrounds. The streetscape is dominated by stone interspersed with a few trees and small green front yards. Today this is a popular residential district thanks to its many old build­ings and the small cafés and shops that contribute to a lively urban scene.

Density Category 7

12 The “Cantonal Law re. a Building Act for the Cities of Zurich and Winterthur and for Urban Conditions in General from June 30, 1863”, was intended to improve the general urban appearance, envisioning a precise distribution of public space and allowing for a closed building form. However, the law was never fully implemented in an urban plan. 13 Between 1888 and 1900, the number of residential buildings in Außer­sihl doubled to nearly 1,900 units.

The development in the perimeter around the Pariser Platz in MunichHaidhausen (density factor 2.02) was also spurred on by railway

construction. When Munich’s Ostbahnhof (or Eastern Railway Station) was inaugurated in 1871, Germany had just won the Prussian-Franco war. As a symbol of this triumph, the city architect Arnold Zenetti decided to connect the large swath of undeveloped land in front of station with the city by creating a system of large axes and squares modeled on the work of Georges-Eugene Baron Haussmann in Paris. This gave rise to the so-called Franzosenviertel or French Quarter, the largest part of which is covered by the perimeter discussed here, and whose streets and squares were named after victorious battles. In contrast to the rigorous grid in the other three perimeters, this district is divided into very irregular and unusually large sections created by the boulevards radiating outward from Orleansplatz—the square in front of the railway station—and the round open town squares. Looking at the figure ground plan one could be forgiven for thinking that a piece of Paris was literally transferred to the much smaller city of Munich in a scaled down version, although the buildings here rise to only four stories on average, making them at least one story lower than those in the French metropolis. Similar to the city’s slaughterhouse district,14 planners sought to find solutions for these deep housing blocks. But in contrast to the former a decision was made in favor of closed block-edge developments. The courtyards at the center of these blocks, often only accessible through a gate in the front building, became the cramped living environments for the poor. As a result the

14 See the Tumblinger Straße perimeter (density category 6), where the detached house development does not form enclosed courtyards and allows for greater ease of movement.

125 area quickly developed into one of Munich’s most densely populated districts. Despite this, the overall impression is of a very green environment thanks to the boulevards and the tree-lined public squares. The French district survived the war with little damage, and much of the historic building fabric has been preserved. Until the 1980s it remained the skid row for low-income residents. In the years that followed the courtyards were gradually de-cluttered, some of the old structures were replaced with new buildings and more green areas were added to the area. Next to Schwabing, the district became one of the first urban areas in Germany to experience gentrification. Today it is one of the most sought after residential areas in downtown Munich. Block and Grid Given the similarities in their history, the four perimeters in Density category 7 are fairly homogenous in terms of appearance and statistics. A comparison of the figure ground plans reveals that the main problems of block-edge developments from the Gründerzeit were rooted in the size and proportions of the street blocks and in the distribution of the public space. As the oldest of the four districts, the area around Pariser Platz in Munich also features the largest building blocks with the greatest depths. With one of the highest site occupancy indexes in this category, it has by far the lowest proportion of public space at roughly 28 percent. However, in contrast to the other perimeters, the public space in this district is distributed across clear axes and public squares, whose abundant tree plantings create green spaces, providing a strong sense of place. On the other hand, the inner space of these blocks was difficult to plan and, initially, produced crowded, unhealthy living conditions. The district on Vienna’s Fockygasse, which was developed soon after, displays similar problems due to the dense development in the courtyards. However, the regular grid blocks are smaller, which translates into more public street space, albeit without creating any notable focal points. The perimeters in Berlin and Zurich are also based on a grid. Since they were planned later at the turn of the century, these developments benefitted from lessons learned elsewhere. Zurich has the most tightly knit grid, which meant that the city blocks, including courtyards, were all constructed on a smaller scale, and that low commercial buildings were only sporadically allowed. As the city with the greatest and fastest population growth, Berlin sought to find a solution to its housing challenge by constructing standardized rows of courtyard houses in long, narrow blocks that could be erected with maximum speed and efficiency. A variety of facade decorations drawn from generic catalogues were a simple means of adding some individuality to the otherwise identical buildings, creating a sense of identity to this day. However, public spaces often had to make way for the building boom—especially in grid plans. It is notable that the districts from the Gründerzeit continue to function extremely well. This is due, on the one hand, to their distinctly urban expression with clear streetscapes and public squares, which are often tree-lined. On the other hand, soft factors such as interior-courtyard structures, which have been thinned out or replaced over time, make it possible to adapt these districts to contemporary living requirements. For this reason, renovated Gründerzeit districts are among the most popular residential areas of the present day.

Grids, Axes and Squares

Density Category 8

( 2.3  —  2.7 )

Inner-City Mixture 3: Historic Suburbs and City Centers

Munich, Im Tal next page: Zurich, Spiegelgasse

129

Historic Suburbs and City Centers

Historic Settlement Patterns In density category 8, the analysis comes to the core areas of historic inner cities. In contrast to the perimeters analyzed thus far, these areas all evolved through long, complex historic processes and were not, or only partially, developed on the basis of plans created on a drawing board.1 Most originated as the earliest environs outside of the ancient city walls of the original town core, and only became part of the inner cities over the course of time. Traffic routes such as trade arteries or, from the nineteenth century onwards railways, played an important role in their development. But the church also had a central role, for its large, influential buildings and adjoining lands often acted as a catalyst and anchor for the development of greenfield sites. The analysis of the four districts leads from newly subdivided farmland outside of the city, to outskirts that have been uniformly built up but where historic structures are still visible, and on to historic city structures, which grew gradually and steadily and were able to maintain their distinct form over centuries. Despite their central location, most of the districts have pre­­served their proven usage structure over the course of time. On the ground floors, small shops and cafés enliven life on the street. The floors above are reserved for apartments. The residential use gives way to commercial uses only gradually in areas that belong the innermost core of the city. Central-city districts are only able to maintain their varied mixed use because the parcels have remained small to this day and because the buildings are managed by a multitude of different proprietors. But this division into small units dates back to a distant past and is currently difficult to maintain for economic reasons. Consequently, small parcels, where damage from the Second World War or subsequent property sales have left gaps, are often combined and used for developments on a larger scale.

1 One exception is the Raabestraße perimeter in Berlin. Although it was built on the square grid of the Hobrecht Plan, the interior of the block evolved to accommodate the needs of investors and residents.

The Perimeter The perimeter that surrounds the Raabestraße in Berlin-Prenzlauer Berg (density factor 2.33) lies just beyond the old city fortifications and

is thus part of the development based on the Hobrecht Plan, a landuse projection for the urban expansion of Berlin in the Gründerzeit. It is therefore not a historic city district in the strictest sense. But the form and development history of the district are very different from those of the area on Christburger Straße, 2 which also lies in the Wins­­ viertel only a few hundred meters away and was constructed a little later. In contrast to the latter, the four nearly square blocks on Raabe­ straße are among the largest in Prenzlauer Berg. The Immanuel Church is the historic heart of the district. The Bötzow family, who owned the land on which the church was built, resorted to a well-tried strategy in order to promote development on fields that were part of their large estates: in 1890, they gifted a piece of land on the far side of the Marien-Nikolai Cemetery to the city of the Berlin for the purpose of erecting a church on the other side of the Prenzlauer Gate. Shortly afterward, the Georgengemeinde (St. George’s Society) built the Immanuel Church on the site in 1893 under patronage of the Empress Augusta Viktoria. The Bötzows’ strategy worked, and a dense residential district developed around the church in the years that followed. The Hobrecht Plan envisioned relatively generous blocks for this area. But as a pure alignment plan, its focus was only on the

2 See the Christburger Straße perimeter (density category 7), which also contains details on the history of the Hobrecht Plan.

Zurich, Spiegelgasse Munich, Im Tal

132 representative streetscape and the five-story bourgeois buildings of the closed blocks. The perimeter on Raabestraße is a good example of what occurred with the courtyard areas — for which little if any building guidelines existed — during the building boom of the Gründerzeit. 3 To this day, the narrow series of perimeter block developments with up to seven courtyards surrounded by mostly five-story buildings have been preserved across much of the district, and convey a sense of the building density that characterized the Gründerzeit years in Prenzlauer Berg. 4 The dense network is thinned out only somewhat in those areas where damage from the Second World War tore gaps in the building fabric. Although nearly all of the narrow courtyards are now planted with green and their facades brightened with color, the narrow di­mensions of these spaces — more akin to a chimney than an open courtyard — pushes the limits of what is deemed acceptable as a living environment today. But the excellent mix of small cafés and shops, the popularity of the Gründerzeit apartments, and the central location have ensured that this district has also been undergoing a process of gentrification for some years.

Density Category 8

3 Compare the greater density on Christburger Straße, where the problem had already been recognized and corrected, and where the more spacious courtyards adhere to a new minimum scale. 4 The relatively modest floor-area ratio and site occupancy index are purely the result of the generous streetscapes. Within the blocks, there is maximum density.

The densely developed district on Hahngasse in Vienna-Rossau (density factor 2.47) also grew around a church as its center. Some

similarities notwithstanding, this district can look back on a much longer history than Berlin’s Raabestraße. In 1632 a widened glacis was created around the old core of Vienna by imperial decree, which also imposed a building ban on the area immediately adjacent to the glacis. This zone covered the floodplains of the Rossau River, where fishermen and rafts men grazed and watered their horses. Thanks to its proximity to the city, this wetland area soon became popular among the aristocracy and the wealthy bourgeoisie, who built their summer palaces there. 5 The true built core of Rossau took shape with the construction of the Servite Monastery in the 1670s. From the early eighteenth century onward, large commercial enterprises such as a porcelain manufacturer and a calico factory set up shop near the monastery, profiting from the proximity of the Danube Canal for transportation. Since the boats were also dragged upstream to the Rossauer Landing, additional trades such as saddlers and wainwrights, providing harnesses for the horses as well as towing ropes and wagons, also flourished in the area of the obsolete glacis from the 1770s onwards. Shortly after the incorporation of Rossau into Vienna, the emperor ordered the razing of the former fortifications, beginning in 1857, and had them replaced with the ring boulevard bordered by new buildings. Similar to the Fockygasse district,6 the area near the Servite Monastery — which had previously been home to a scattering of individual trade enterprises and workshops — grew into a new residential district on the far side of the ring boulevard. In contrast to the rational grids of the Gründerzeit, the street blocks in Rossau preserved the historic paths around the former palace gardens, which resulted in neighborhood quads of varying dimensions. The smallest are very narrow and structured, while the largest are nearly identical in scale to the perimeter blocks on Berlin’s Raabestraße. What is notable is the pronounced discrepancy between the elegant front buildings in the grand-boulevard style and the universe of the rear courtyards, characterized by un­ fettered chaos and crowding. While affluent citizens lived close to the city center on the streets with the most enviable location, the craftsmen and “simple folk”, who had previously dominated the life of the district, made do within the confines of densely developed rear courtyards, unseen from the life on the main street. Despite the presence

5 The Palais Liechtenstein, immediately adjacent to the perimeter, is a preserved example.

6 See the Fockygasse perimeter (density category 7).

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Historic Suburbs and City Centers

of a few shops, pubs and small enterprises, the district has remained largely residential to this day. Originally, the Tal in Munich’s Old Town (density factor 2.62) was also created beyond the gates of the inner-city fortifications. Once again a church played an important role in the development of the area. In the thirteenth century, the Heilig-Geist (Holy Ghost) charitable hospice and church complex was erected on this site. Since the valley formed part of the main eastern entry into the city as part of the Salt Road, various trade establishments settled near the monastery hospital. By the fourteenth century, the density of buildings had increased to such a degree that a second city wall was erected in 1347. This early urban expansion covered roughly the same area as the perimeter analyzed here,7 which has retained its basic late medieval structure to this day. The plan of the district is defined by the broad street known as “Im Tal” (lit. in the valley). Thanks to the ample supply of fresh water in the valley in the Tal borough, the area became home to many breweries. Most side streets run along the brooks that once provided fresh water for the breweries. Thus a clear hierarchy emerged within the network of streets, in which Im Tal — as a continuation of the country road open to traffic — was widened to square-like dimensions, while the side streets often remained mere lanes running parallel to the brooks. When the historic Marienplatz became too small to continue serving as a food market in the beginning of the nineteenth century, the Heilig-Geist charitable hospice was demolished, although the church was preserved and even expanded. The former hospice site was utilized to establish the Viktualienmarkt (fresh-produce market), which remains the largest open space in the district to the present day. In contrast to the Wiener Au district around the Servite Monastery, whose neighborhood blocks were almost all newly erected in the Gründerzeit, the Tal borough is an example of a historically grown urban structure, which has evolved across centuries in response to the demands of each era. Parts of the district were only destroyed as recently as the Second World War and subsequently replaced by new buildings. Today, Im Tal is one of Munich’s main retail streets. The side streets with their brewery pubs and the Viktualienmarkt count among the most popular tourist destinations in the city. Since the narrow ancient parcels of the Tal are almost completely built over, the district has an extraordinarily high site occupancy index with a density factor of 0.57. At the same time, the ratio of public spaces is the highest of the four perimeters analyzed here: just under 33 percent. A look at the buildings themselves reveals a notably high ratio of public and commercial uses, which — combined with few residential units — is typical of a central urban district. The perimeter surrounding the Spiegelgasse in Zurich-Niederdorf (density factor 2.52) lies between the Predigerkloster (the Dominican monastery) and the Großmünster (Great Minster) 8 and constitutes the old city core within the city walls on the east side of the River Limmat. Its main artery is the Niederdorferstraße, which runs parallel to the Limmat somewhat higher up on the slope. It was once the urban section of the old trade road, running from the direction of the Canton of Aargau through Zurich and to the northern shore of Lake Zurich. Prior to the construction of the Limmat quay, the headquarters of the various guilds stood directly on the riverbank. Narrow streets, some of which were cul-de-sacs, led from the Niederdorfstraße down to the river. 9 To the east of the main street, the district is divided into sections through

7 The westernmost area of the perimeter near St. Peter’s Church, which is on an elevated site, was still located within the first city walls.

8 In the thirteenth century, the Dominican Order, which had founded the preachers’ monastery, was an ally of the autonomous city, and as such an opponent of the ecclesiastic powers behind the Grossmünster, who were vying for domination over the City of Zurich at the time. 9 These lanes still bear the names of the trade guilds and businesses to which they once led, e.g. butcher’s lane and bath lane.

Berlin, Raabestraße Vienna, Hahngasse

136 a system of squares and market streets of varying dimensions. The city never created a large central market square, as was the case in Munich; rather, it preserved the different small markets such as the Rindermark (cattle market), the Neumarkt (new market) and the Markt­gasse (market lane) as a microcosm. As a result, many hospitality establishments set up business in the adjacent houses. Niederdorf became Zurich’s entertainment district and continued to fulfill that function long after the markets had been closed. This old townscape was never touched by war: the medieval structure and the old houses are fully preserved. As a result, Niederdorf today has the ambience of an openair museum of an old city, and is a popular tourist attraction.10 The only major intervention occurred in the nineteenth century. When the narrow Niederdorfstraße could no longer accommodate the increased traffic volume, the Limmat quay was built as the new traffic artery along the river and partially bordered with new buildings. It remained a busy road until 2005, when it was pedestrianized in keeping with the entire district in this perimeter. Similar to the Tal district in Munich, there is a clear hierarchy of large main streets, small lanes and squares. But the structure is more tightly knit and the parcels themselves are smaller as well. Indeed the streets are often so narrow that even without pedestrianization they would barely be able to accommodate car traffic. Nevertheless, with a site occupancy index of 0.53, the district is less densely developed than the Tal, and here and there one can even spot a private yard.

Density Category 8

10 Up until recently, privately owned shops were able to hold their own in the dense network of narrow lanes in Niederdorf by focusing on specialty goods. It is only in the last few years that these shops, too, are disappearing and being replaced by chain stores.

Inward Densification For all their differences, the perimeters in density category 8 have at least one characteristic in common: the high density factors are the result of maximum land use. This densification towards the center creates a great discrepancy between the narrow building structures and the sometimes generous public spaces. In Berlin and Vienna, where the districts are characterized by their origins in the Gründerzeit, these public spaces are relatively evenly distributed across the streetscape without creating focal points.11 Despite the wide streets, at only 25 percent these two districts have a relatively low ratio of areas suitable for public use. The perimeters in Munich and Zurich, on the other hand, are characterized by irregular, medieval networks of paths. Here, differing street widths and a variety of public squares create hierarchies that indicate the corresponding function of the spaces, such as markets or roads for traffic circulation. The contrasting spaces create an environment that is mainly geared towards walkability — a reflection of the historic period when the districts were first created. The streets of the Gründerzeit districts, on the other hand, were designed for horse-drawn and vehicular traffic from the beginning. Their regular grid was fundamentally designed to be repeatable ad infinitum. To this day, residential use is dominant in the blocks along these streets, and only some of the ground floors are occupied by individual small businesses and restaurants. Mixed-use for commerce and housing is far greater in the narrow old town districts. Since Munich saw fairly extensive destruction during the Second World War, the parcel sizes are more heterogeneous here than in the fully preserved historic Niederdorf district in Zurich. After the Second World War, large buildings were erected in place of the former small houses. This resulted in larger retail areas; today, the district is thus a main retail street that forms an extension of the

11 Although the Servite Monastery created a focal point with a public square in Vienna, a remnant from a bygone era, the layout of the rest of the area is resolutely in the Gründerzeit character in terms of street widths.

137 central pedestrian zone.12 The Niederdorf has been able to preserve most of its traditional composition of small shops and narrow housing units. In recent years, however, financial pressure on this central lo­cation has grown so steeply that many of the traditional shops have now had to close and make way for retail chains with deeper pockets, which then find themselves struggling to cope with the small scale of the spaces. With rental rates that lie nearly two thirds above the average in the City of Zurich, many private shop keepers have little chance to operate successfully in this area.

Historic Suburbs and City Centers 12 See also the western extension of the pedestrian zone in the Schwanthaler Straße perimeter (density category 9).

Density Category 9

( >  2.7 )

Inner-City Mixture 4: Commercial Centers

Berlin, Friedrichstraße

Vienna, Wollzeile Munich, Schwanthalerstraße

142

Density Category 9

Commercial Pressure The districts in density category 9 are all city-center commercial districts. Their high density factor arises from the tremendous demand for centrally located spaces. They are mainly defined by commercial uses; the aim, therefore, is to achieve maximum utilization of the parcels. Similar to the perimeters in density category 8, all four dis­­­tricts in this category can look back on a long history of architectural development. Here, too, most evolved from what were originally environs immediately outside the core city (with the exception of Vienna’s Wollzeile). Nevertheless there are significant differences in terms of planning and usage structures. In this category, the damage sustained during the Second World War plays an important role. While the Wollzeile in Vienna was mostly spared destruction and has been able to preserve its small-scale pattern both in terms of its division of lots and architectural expression, Berlin and Munich both saw a strong trend towards large-scale development after the war. As the youngest of the four districts, Zurich’s Bahnhofstraße may have been spared any wartime damage, but from its beginnings onward it was developed in response to a modern industry-driven economy, which favored large area use, a fact that is reflected in correspondingly large-scale structures dated throughout the period of the area’s growth. The Perimeter The area around the Wollzeile in central Vienna (density factor 3.18) has the longest history among the perimeters in this category. Its historic structure has been preserved to this day, without any significant damage due to war. The perimeter encompasses the eastern section of the historic core around St. Stephan’s Cathedral. The Wollzeile (lit. woll row) is one of Vienna’s oldest streets. As far back as Vienna’s origins in Roman antiquity as castrum Vindo­ bona (or Fort Vindobona), an arterial road led from here in an easterly direction. In the Middle Ages, the road ran within the then city forti­fications from the bishop’s residence next to the cathedral to the Stubentor. A second Roman road followed the course of Kärtnerstraße in a southern direction. Together with Kärtnerstraße and Rotenturmstraße, which led to two other city gates, the Wollzeile marks the axis of the eastern part of the old town. In the Middle Ages, this area was divided by narrow lanes and markets for the various craft guilds1 and monasteries. The cathedral district occupied the center of the area, originally conceived as an enclosed complex. After it was opened no longer preserved for the clergy, the cathedral square became Vienna’s central public space. Although the built fabric underwent numerous changes, the medieval network of lanes remained intact. It was only in the late nineteenth century that Kärtnerstraße was widened and the houses on either side of the street were substantially altered. In 1974, the street was designated as a pedestrian zone. Many of the buildings in the perimeter still date from the baroque period; when the ring road was constructed, only those buildings along the former city walls of the Stubenbastei were replaced with Gründer­ zeit blocks. And damage during the Second World War was also limited in this area, with only a few buildings destroyed beyond repair and subsequently replaced with new buildings. 2 The Wollzeile district is an example of an inner-city area that has seen the continual development of a medieval urban structure. 3

1 Street names such as Wollzeile, Bäckerstraße, Seilerstätte and Fleischmarkt are reminders of the historic trades formerly concentrated in the area—wool merchants, bakers, rope manufacturers and butchers. An elongated market place once occupied the area between Bäckerstraße and Sonnenfelsgasse; it was filled in with buildings as far back as the Middle Ages.

2 Kärntnerstraße and Rotenturmstraße were most badly destroyed. Some of the new buildings in these streets were only constructed recently. 3 See also the similar perimeter of Im Tal in Munich (density category 7); however, as a former outer borough, this perimeter has a more open structure.

143

Commercial Centers

Narrow lanes open onto squares of varying sizes. The smallest among them — such as the Franziskanerplatz or the Doktor-Ignaz-Seipel-Platz — resemble intimate rooms within the density of this district, throughout which land use has been exploited to a maximum. With a site occupancy index of 0.63, Vienna’s historic core perimeter has by far the least amount of open, undeveloped area among all the perimeters in this category. Today, the entire area exudes an air of nostalgic tranquility. Since the narrow streets are unsuited for cars there is little traffic. With small shops, old-fashioned department stores and arcades in the middle of the city center, the Wollzeile has preserved the ambience of a quiet shopping street in a typically Viennese style — beautiful and slightly faded. In contrast to the tightly knit structure in Vienna that evolved over the course of centuries, the figure ground plan of the perimeter on Friedrich­straße in Berlin-Mitte (density factor 3.40) with its perpendicular grid exudes an air of Prussian severity. One could be forgiven for assuming that it is part of the Hobrecht Plan from the Gründerzeit, 4 but the grid is even more rigid, the blocks are smaller, and the devel­ opment is too dense for residential buildings. In fact, the origins of Berlin’s Friedrichstadt date back to the mid-seventeenth century. Following the death of his father, the Great Elector Friedrich Wilhelm, Frederich I commissioned a plan for a new district to be developed on the site of what was then the estate of the Cöllnischen Feldmark outside of the old city walls. 5 Friedrich oversaw the construction of streets and access routes. Civil servants in higher positions were deeded building lots as gifts on which to build as impressive buildings as possible, in which they were also meant, among other uses, to house refugees and soldiers from France. Most of the houses were designed with their eaves extended lengthways along the streets, because the amount of state-funded allowances for the construction costs was based on the length of the street facade.6 These regulations resulted in a series of long narrow houses — blockedge developments with low elevations, some of which enclosed fairly substantial gardens. The Friedrichstadt grew over a relatively short period;7 as soon as a house was deemed unsightly, it was quickly replaced with a more imposing structure. The density of the built fabric in the blocks increased accordingly; the parcels became smaller, the buildings gradually taller and the entire atmosphere more urban. Flanked by the French and German Cathedrals, the Gendarmenmarkt was the central market square, where the theater would later stand. The main artery of this city expansion was and still is Friedrichstraße. It led from Doretheenstadt to the north all the way to the parade grounds on the Tempelhofer Feld in the south, and was therefore also used for military marches. The perimeter analyzed here lies between the Gendarmenmarkt and the slightly curved Mauerstraße, along which the western extension of the city wall of Dorotheenstadt formerly ran. Thus the perimeter encompasses the core section of Friedrichstraße as it is today. In the nineteenth century, this street developed into a lively commercial route. At the beginning of the twentieth century it benefited from excellent connections to public transport with the erection of the Friedrichstraße railway station. By this time, the perimeter was already characterized by very dense development on small parcels with narrow rear courtyards. 8 With countless stores, theaters, pubs, restaurants and hotels, Friedrichstraße formed the very center of urban life in Berlin. 9 Following the large-scale destruction of the Second World 10 War, the area of the perimeter remained an urban wasteland for a

4 See also the Christburger Straße perimeter (density category 7) and the Raabestraße perimeter (density category 8).

5 Following Friedrichsweder and Doro­ theenstadt, Friedrichstadt was the third expansion to the historic town core. The expansions were planned by the architects, engineers and master builders Johann Arnold Nering, Johann Heinrich Behr and Martin Grünberg—all influenced by the Dutch baroque. 6 Most of the houses had to be built on piling because the Feldmark was originally a swamp. 7 By around 1740 Friedrichstadt already encompassed some 2,000 houses.

8 One can still get a sense of this dense development in the western blocks of the perimeter, where much of the pre-war fabric remains intact. 9 Many breweries and brandy distilleries already existed in Friedrichstadt in around 1725. 10 Roughly 50 percent of the building stock in the perimeter was completely destroyed.

Munich, Schwanthalerstraße

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considerable length of time. It was only in the 1970s that a systematic effort of reconstruction began in what was then East Berlin. How­ever, since with its width of only 15 to 17 meters Friedrichstraße was relatively narrow for such an important boulevard, a plan was developed during the GDR era to expand the street at the height of the Gendarmenmarkt into a space akin to an urban square. When the building shells had been erected by 1989, the so-called “Wende” (the fall of the Berlin Wall and reunification) brought construction to a sudden halt. In the reunified Berlin, the GDR structures were torn down and the blocks along the Friedrichstraße were then very densely developed. Instead of the envisioned widening into an urban square, the three blocks occupied by the Friedrichstadt Arcades were overbuilt with large department stores, whereby many of the small parcels on the opposite side of the street had already been replaced by large buildings prior to this de­velopment. Today Friedrichsstraße is the vibrant business core of Berlin-Mitte, characterized by a mix of large new buildings and older small building lots. Since some blocks in the perimeter are fully developed with buildings of at least five stories, the area boasts the highest density factor of all the perimeters under consideration. The dense development in combination with the large facades and the lack of green space or plantings contributes to an atmosphere dominated by stone. The perimeter on Schwanthalerstraße in Munich’s railway-station district (density factor 2.89) also suffered extensive war damage, and was almost completely reconstructed after the Second World War. It, too, originated beyond the gates of the old city. Munich owes its existence and its wealth to the Salt Road, which led from the east through the fortified Isar Tor and the Tal (valley)11 as a main axis running through the old city, exiting the city on the western side through the Neuhauser Tor. Immediately on the far side of the gate, at the location today’s Stachus (a busy urban square also known as Karlsplatz), the road branched off in two directions. What is now Bayerstraße continued on to the town of Landsberg and from there to Lake Constance, while Schützenstraße,12 which has since been pedestrianized, lead to the north-west in the direction of Augsburg. The fork in the roads had already been settled with a small cluster of homes as far back as the seventeenth century. It can still be traced today in the trapezoid tapered block on the northern side of the perimeter. In 1804, the old Botanical Gardens were created to north of this fork. At the same time, King Ludwig I initiated a largescale urban expansion beyond the city with what was to be called the Ludwigsvorstadt, which encompasses the area of the perimeter and the grounds of the Theresienwiese immediately adjacent to the south. The layout of subsequent perimeter in the area round the fork road basically followed that of the existing country houses set in large garden blocks. Ludwig’s plan was to create a residential area dotted with villas and elegant apartment buildings for affluent citizens. The district experienced rapid growth after the central railway station was relocated there in mid-nineteenth century. And when the station was expanded at the end of the nineteenth century, the perimeter was already densely developed, forming part of a block-edge development that was spreading towards the east. It now formed the linking element between the railway station and the city center, and became the core of a new station district with numerous entertainment establishments and beer gardens.13 As the railway station was a principal target for the Allied Forces in the Second World War, the area surrounding it was virtually

11 See the Im Tal perimeter (density category 8).

12 The name Schützenstraße is a reminder to this day of the shooting range, which was located on this site from the Middle Ages onwards.

13 The Mathäser was one of the largest and oldest breweries in the world. Its origins date back to 1690, when the first Mathäser brewery served the Schießplatz (military firing range), which was located within the perimeter during that period. The entire complex was de­molished in the 1990s and replaced with the Mathäser Filmpalast multiplex.

Zurich, Bahnhofstraße Vienna, Wollzeile

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razed to the ground. In the 1950s it was reconstructed together with the railway station. The northern section of the perimeter between the front of the new station and the semi-circular open space of the Stachus, was then partly built over with department stores and hotels on large lots formed by amalgamating the previous smaller parcels. In combination with the pedestrian zone of Schützenstraße, this area now forms the extension of the busy Neuhauser Straße from Marienplatz to the railway station. In the southern section of the perimeter the pre-war layout of smaller parcels has largely remained preserved. This section became home to a mix of red-light district and gambling establishments on the one hand, and a Turkish community with small shops and mosques on the other — a mix that is typical of many railwaystation districts in Germany. The perimeter around the Bahnhofstraße in the center of Zurich (density factor 2.78) also emerged in its current form as late as the nine­ teenth century. And once again the development of the area is closely linked to the construction of the railway station. Prior to the nineteenth century, the lower Bahnhostraße was still the site of the remnants of the fortified former town-walls, which had become overgrown with trees, and with the occasional freestanding townhouse set in large gardens. After the wall had become obsolete for defense purposes, it became a popular spot for taking open-air walks. As early as 1847, a small railway station was constructed on the site of the current main station in front of the Schanzengraben — a moat that used to run parallel to the fortifications and merged with the River Limmat. To begin with the station only served the small Nordostbahn (north-eastern railway) of the Zurich-Baden line, and was difficult to reach from the city. When Switzerland began expanding its interregional railway network a few years later, the station quickly gained in im­ portance. A decision was made to retain the site and to erect a larger station on it. In order to improve access between the station and the city it was decided to divert the Schanzengraben into the River Sihl instead of the Limmat, and to fill in the moat of the Fröschengraben of the former inner city fortifications in order to construct a boulevard that would connect the new railway station with the Paradeplatz and the lake. The Bahnhofstraße was completed in 1865. With a width of 22 to 24 meters, the middle stretch of the road was initially unpaved and was bordered by gardens and small houses. The real transformation from a semi-rural residential area to a commercial urban artery only occurred as late as the turn of the nineteenth century. It was only in the period immediately preceding the First World War that many of the villas that had in the meantime sprouted up were demolished to make way for urban commercial buildings. The new district was divided into irregular street grids, which were gradually filled with block-edge developments and large department stores. The perimeter area is divided and broken up by various squares — such as Löwenplatz, Beatenplatz or the Pestalozzianlage.14 Due to these open spaces and the relatively wide main streets, this perimeter in Zurich has by far the highest ratio of public spaces in this category. At the same time, it also has the lowest values in terms of the floor-area and site occupancy indices. Today, the Bahnhofstraße is purely a pedestrian zone; with the tree-lined boulevard and small parks it feels very greened. The Centers of the Cities

Density category 9 is the only one of the overall categories to consist

almost exclusively of commercial buildings. Housing plays a secondary

14 Outside the city gates, the site had previously served as an execution site.

149 role here. The focus is on the provision of profitable office and retail space. In this category public space fulfills a particularly important role in offsetting maximized land use. It is less an environment for whiling away time, than a dynamic circulation space for a large number of people. The pedestrian zones in Munich and Zurich are most suited to this task, although it is worth noting that Zurich’s Bahnhofstraße with its streetcars and great length appears livelier than Munich’s classic pedestrianized Schützenstraße, which also finds itself cut off from the city center by the traffic whirlpool of the Stachus. Berlin’s Friedrichstraße is pushed to bursting by its narrowness and the additional traffic load. On the other hand, these same characteristics also give it a heightened urban ambience, which is further underscored by the sheer scale of the buildings. The Wollzeile in Vienna seems to be suspended in a bygone era. Here the buildings, narrow lanes and arcades are clearly geared towards pedestrians, and the narrow parcels do not allow for any large-scale development. As a result, the Wollzeile can barely compete commercially with the pedestrian zone on Kärntner Straße, but the mixed use and unique qualities of the old streets make it an unmistakably Viennese quarter. The street spaces are scaled down for people on foot, and offer many attractive places for spending extended periods of time. In contrast to the three other business districts, which are designed to be crossed as quickly and as linearly as possible, the network of paths here creates a singular rhythm of narrow and wide spaces, alternating between accelerations and moments of abatement.

Commercial Centers

Evaluation

Density, Atmosphere, and Numbers

151

Density, Atmosphere, and Numbers

The relationship between the built density of a district and the atmosphere that characterizes it is multi-layered and ultimately depends on the sensory perception of every individual as a physically present subject in the relevant environment. And yet each density category analyzed in this work has its own character that depends on a wide range of quantifiable factors. Having analyzed the historical backgrounds, the urban de­­­­vel­ opment, and the architectural image of the districts,1 the questions that arise are which specific parameters have a concrete influence on the relationship between density and atmosphere and how they do so. In the following, the quantifiable ratio of this relationship between density and atmosphere is studied on the basis of thirteen par­ameters. The study is based on the material gathered in plans and numbers in the second part of this book under the heading “Density Catalog”.

1 See chapter “The Districts.”

Density Categories and their Parameters This section presents a comparison and establishes a relationship among the values of the key analysis parameters: floor area ratio,

site occupancy index, parceling, undeveloped area, ratio of public space, ratio of private space, building height, number of floors, population turnover rates, rental rates, and (public) use. The conclusions are then verified against the actual image and atmosphere of the corresponding districts based on documentary photographs and district descriptions in the analyses. What emerges is a profile of the sig­ nificance of the individual analysis parameters for each density profile and the corresponding atmosphere within an overarching comparison of the nine density categories. Sudden “leaps” and “breaks” or deviations in the values are allocated to specific density groups and compared against the physical appearance of the districts. The evaluation is organized according to the key factors that influence how density and atmosphere are interconnected, and which of these factors have the greatest impact on the atmosphere in the various districts. Building Height and District Image

Building Height and Number of Floors, Floor Area Ratio, and Site Occupancy Index Building height is frequently referenced as an important criterion for the suburban or urban atmosphere of a city district. But what is its concrete influence on the perception of a district? The floor area ratio (FAR) is the decisive density factor in this study. When it is taken as a point of departure for the quantitative analysis with regard to the impact that building height has on the districts, and then related to the corresponding site occupancy index (SOI), a comparison of the nine categories reveals a clear break between

the third and the fourth density category (density category 3: FAR 0.6 to 0.9; density category 4: FAR 0.9 to 1.2).

In the first three categories, up to density factor 0.9, the FAR fluctuates at roughly twice the value of the SOI . From the fourth density category onward — and up to the ninth density category — the

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FARs are then consistently 4.5 to 5 times the value of the SOIs. In other words: despite higher density, this value does not increase. A comparison of average building heights in the districts in the individual categories confirms this conclusion. In density categories 1 to 3, the number of floors ranges from 1.4 to 3.4 full stories. From the fourth category onward, this number remains relatively stable within a range of 4.5 to 5 full stories. And although the building height rises continuously from 4.5 meters to over 10 meters in the first three categories, this increase levels off from the fourth category onward, achieving a mean value for the analysis parameters of 14.3 meters.

When these observations are correlated to image, history and atmosphere of the districts, it is noticeable that the first three density categories display a rather suburban character, while an urban character is dominant from the fourth category onward. Thus the height of the development and its relationship to the built area has a decisive impact on how the district is perceived. Nevertheless, height alone does not guarantee an urban character. Within the first three density categories, classic residential districts with single-family homes cannot develop inner-city qualities — nor is it their intention.2 Given the modest land use of the plots for building, the structural focus in these areas is on creating private yards and green spaces. Despite their village-like ambience, the origins of this type of settlement lie in the ideas of the Garden City Movement from 1900 onward, which represented a new interpretation of green space in urban environments. Modest building heights with only one to two full stories were meant to provide good lighting and a direct connection to the generous outdoor space. The homes in the Privatstraße settlement in Berlin-Hohenschön­ hausen — most of which are single-story buildings with an average height of just 4 meters — are set within fairly large yards and make it possible to fulfill the dream of direct contact with nature within the private sphere of one’s own property. The same goal characterizes the homes in Zurich’s Im Heimgärtli settlement, which are therefore identical in scale, the only difference being that here the building masses are distributed more efficiently across two full stories, with an eaves height of 6.6 meters. Land use in such districts is therefore focused on creating a private sphere and has no requirement to achieve representation in the public space. One exception among the analyzed perimeters is the villa colony centered on Drakestraße in Berlin-Lichterfelde. While this area, too, features detached homes on fairly large private lots, the villas here are nearly 9 meters high on average, in contrast to the roughly 3.5- to 6.6-meter-high eaves height of the other single-family home districts. Moreover, although most villas in Berlin-Lichterfelde have only two full stories, clever visual tricks create the appearance of three-story buildings. First of all, most of the bourgeois homes are constructed with plinth stories, which raise them above grade, and the entrances are therefore designed with exterior sets of stairs. Secondly, many of the homes feature windowed gables on the re­presentative facade overlooking the streets, which creates the impression that they have a third story. Finally, the rows of mature boulevard trees also contribute to the imposing impression of the street ele­vation, investing the streetscape with a height profile that has an urban feel.

Individual diversity of the houses on Privatstraße in Berlin and the homogenous development in Zurich’s Heimgärtli 2 The following perimeters are classic residential districts with single-family homes: Privatstraße and Drakestraße in Berlin; Waldstraße in Munich; Schippergasse in Vienna; and Im Heimgärtli and Schlössliweg in Zurich.

Prominent facades on Berlin’s Drakestraße and villas hidden behind hedges and walls along Schlösslistraße in Zurich

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Despite the significantly greater average height of 11.25 meters and 3 full stories, Schlösslistraße in Zurich, on the other hand, fails to exude an urban air. The houses have very little presence from the perspective of the street. Instead, their facades are more oriented towards the private yards and the views of city, lake, and mountains. Although the district is among the most expensive among those analyzed in this book — with rental rates that are 142 percent of the mean rental rate in Zurich — the street space in this area is reserved for access and circulation within the district and far less for purposes of display or public life. The building height in the single-family home settlements in the first two density categories is also linked to the social status of the residents. Districts inhabited by those with a higher social status, such as the Drakestraße and the Schlösslistraße, also feature noticeably taller homes than the other four single-home districts, which are more modest and where eaves heights rarely reach 4 meters. In addition to being imposing, building height in expensive districts also serves to concentrate the building masses in favor of providing more private open space and maximum use of the built over area. With a SOI of 0.15, the pricey Schlösslistraße occupies the lowest tier of all measured floor area ratios, and this despite a FAR of 0.44. 3 In combination with height, the compactness of the built environment is an additional feature of the urban character of a district. As the floor area ratio rises, buildings are set closer together. Even in density category 1, districts such as the Waldstraße in Munich-Trudering suggest a hermetically sealed, compact street elevation as a result of the close arrangement of the single-family homes. From density category 2 onward, the individual homes — modest in height with a maximum of two full stories — begin to be combined into rows. The residential row housing in the Reindlstraße perimeter in Munich, as well as in the Pilotengasse in Vienna and the Hoch­sitz­ weg in Berlin, combine to create a relatively enclosed network of streets and paths. However, the effect in these areas remains sub­ urban, since the two-story homes are still largely oriented towards the private yards. It is only from density category 3 onwards that the building rows reach heights of over 10 meters. However, increasing height does not necessarily translate into a more urban atmosphere in the district. The rows along Altwiesenstraße in Zurich still seem somewhat disconnected or lost in their calm environment of empty meadows despite their greater heights and long rows. Conversely, another district in density category 3 — the Larochegasse in Vienna — has a distinctly urban character, even though the homes rise to a relatively low average height of 6.37 meters with only two stories. Here, the urban residences create a clear street space, while the orientation of the rows in Zurich tends to be in response to car dinal directions rather than the line of the street.

Urbanity, therefore, does not result from density and building height

alone; it is dependent on the relationship of the buildings and their residents to the exterior space. Height does play an important role in this relationship. Most of the districts in the first three density categories seek to establish a clear connection to the yard as a private exterior space. Featuring one to two full stories, they tend to be low constructions, allowing direct access to the yard from many rooms. The fact that

Verdant street spaces in the Reindlstraße, Munich and in the Pilotengasse, Vienna 3 The Privatstraße perimeter in Berlin has a higher site occupancy index (SOI) of 0.16 despite having the lowest FAR of 0.23.

In Vienna’s Larochegasse and Berlin’s Hochsitzweg, private front gardens enliven the streetscape

154 intimate space is prioritized also means that the orientation in these districts is outwards, facing the green space and resulting in a sub­urban image. In the chapter presenting a detailed analysis of the districts, they have therefore been summarized under the term

“Garden Idyll.”4

Density category 3 represents a transitional category between these garden idylls and “living in a green environment” in the multi-story housing units that are analyzed after the break in density category 4. With a maximum of 2.5 full stories on average, the Hochsitzweg and Larochegasse perimeters still seek to establish a close connection to the green parcels they occupy. The perimeters Quiddestraße in Munich-Neuperlach and Altwiesenstraße, on the other hand, no longer have access to any private yard space. Residential units in these districts are distributed across buildings ranging in height from 3.5 to 5.5 full stories. At the same time, both districts experiment with staggered building heights. On Altwiesenstraße long blocks two to four stories high are scattered across a large grassy area. And in the area around Quiddestraße, multi-unit housing ranges from two to as much as ten stories in height. Beginning with density category 4, most buildings are at least four stories high and no longer have access to any private green space, which is now replaced by contiguous semi-public green areas. Similar to the Altwiesenstraße and Quiddestraße developments, individual buildings in the perimeters featured in the fourth and fifth category vary greatly in terms of height. The staggered building rows in the large housing estates create a residential landscape set into semipublic and landscaped green spaces. This height variation is especially noticeable in the satellite towns of the late 1970s. Some are featured in density category 3, but most are in categories 4 and 55 and represent a distinct and separate urban type. Inspired by Ebenezer Howard’s Garden City Theory (1898) and the recommendations espoused by the Athens Charter (1933), their aim was to provide a public shared green space to all residents at the same time. As a result of the radical separation into functions, the buildings for public uses such as shopping arcades, community centers, and cultural centers are usually low, with only one to two stories, in order to maintain a direct connection to the exterior space. The residential buildings, on the other hand, are towering structures erected on a small footprint surrounded by relatively large green areas. Ideally, the residential estates are raised on pilotis or piers, although most are only raised from the ground by plinth stories. This impedes direct access from the ground-floor units to the green space and hence the creation of any private yards. Thus the apartments are geared in their orientation towards landscape as a feature in the distance rather than the immediate green space surrounding them. This differentiation of building heights and connection to the exterior is found in settlements as early as the 1950s. Since densification in such large housing estates is by height rather than by area coverage, this specific type of housing results in the greatest deviations of FAR and height within each category. With heights of over 42 meters and up to 14 full stories for a very low FAR of only 0.13, Berlin’s Mariachi Vertex am Senftenberger Ring in density category 5 approaches the limits of what is feasible in terms of lighting and the relationship with the exterior space. The Siemensstadt in Berlin-Charlottenburg adheres to a more traditional path, despite the open arrangement of the rows of buildings. Long buildings four and five stories high are set in rows along

Evaluation

4 For further details, see chapter “The Districts”.

5 See the perimeters on Quiddestraße (density category 3), on Prinzgasse and Meierwiesenstraße (both density category 4), and on Senftenberger Ring (density category 5).

Narrow green areas between the rows on Altwiesenstraße in Zurich and on Quiddestraße in Munich

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Goebelstraße with a continuous urban height of 18 meters, similar to a district from the Gründerzeit. But the buildings are oriented towards the sun, with the rear elevations overlooking the streets, and the street space on the north side opens towards the green space.

A second break in terms of height occurs between density categor­ies 5 and 6. The mean height value remains roughly the

same. From a FAR of 1.5 upwards, changes in height are noticeably reduced and the buildings form fairly homogeneous block edge developments. In the district analyses, these districts are therefore summarized under the heading “Inner City Mixture.” Given prevailing regulations in Central Europe with regard to distance, aimed at ensuring good natural light for all houses, increased building heights across entire urban districts is hardly possible because of the reciprocal shading that would occur. This is especially true for residential developments. The block edge with a maximum of four to six floors, conversely, offers a suitable template structure for area densification. While the front buildings maintain the established height, additional staggered heights are possible in the courtyard buildings. Degrees of land use for these courtyard buildings allows for a gradual densification without altering the image of the streetscape. Thus the courtyards in the Bonner Straße perimeter in Berlin-Wilmers­ dorf are kept open and unbuilt to be used as common green spaces at the center of the five-story blocks that surround them. The noticeably smaller blocks on the Kanzleistraße in Zurich, on the other hand, are only four stories high, but their much older courtyards are filled in with one- and two-story commercial structures. The courtyards in the newer blocks are open and planted with greenery, similar to those in Berlin. The blocks on the Raabestraße in Berlin-Prenzlauer Berg are once again fairly densely developed and most courtyard buildings are five stories high, just like the front buildings. The courtyards of similar block developments were often opened up again in later years. By contrast, entire blocks of similar height are fully built over in the business districts. In other words, the system of block edge and courtyard developments is structurally very flexible, able to accommodate a wide range of building heights and site occupancy indices without compromising the image of the streetscape. This is also one of the reasons for the longevity of Gründerzeit districts. Unlike row housing or detached buildings, they can assume many different density qualities and adapt well to changing requirements. Over time, their average height of 4 to 5 full stories at 18 to 22 meters became the reference value in Central Europe, as it offers a number of advantages. For one, it guarantees favorable natural lighting conditions for apartments combined with practical, usable street widths, which, in the cities analyzed here, correspond in width to the height of the buildings. Secondly, houses of this height could and still can be efficiently constructed with simple masonry. And furthermore, at this height, the top floors are still manageable via stairwells without the need for elevators, and the apartments on the top floor still have direct vocal and visual contact with life in the street. It is not for nothing that living rooms and balconies in classic Gründerzeit usually overlook the street, regardless of orientation. In this way, they fulfill a social function. As private exterior spaces, the balconies are an extension of the bustling life in the street at an elevated height. Each resident can thus make his or her personal contribution to public life.

Varying building heights in the large residential developments on Senftenberger Ring and on Prinzgasse

A park-like courtyard on Bonner Straße and the milieu of small-scale rear courtyards on Raabestraße in Berlin

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The compact, closely spaced facades always maintain a sense of a certain urban density in the streetscape, even when there are entirely different density factors in the courtyards to the rear. Thus the height of the built environment contributes decisively to the atmosphere of a district. It is directly connected to the density of a district. The relationship to the exterior space is extremely important in this context, as is the construction of that exterior space. In the following, we will therefore take a closer look at the relationship between building density and open areas, both private and public. Public and Private Exterior Space, Green Space

Ratio of Open Public and Private Space; Parceling The atmosphere of a district is largely dependent on the qualities of the exterior space in the district, as well as what types of uses are offered or suitable. This is where proximity and distance, social togetherness or anonymity, liveliness or tranquility, crowdedness or expansiveness, light and shadow are determined and where the district is fine-tuned. The design and distribution of open public and private exterior spaces is therefore of vital importance. If one compares the area values in the nine density categories, the numbers confirm the break that occurs after the third and fifth categories, which have already been noted in the evaluation of the height analyses. In the first three categories, the average ratios of public space rise more or less continuously from 12 percent in the first category to over 20 percent in the third category. After the first break, when the density factor exceeds 0.9 in category 4, the ratio falls once again to less than 10 percent. It is only from density category 5 onward that values of more than 20 percent are reached again. With a density factor of 1.6 in category 6, which marks the second break, the values leap to 30 percent and in isolated cases to over 40 percent. This trend is directly linked to the connection of the buildings to the exterior space and the social significance of the latter. In the first three categories, public space plays a subordinate role. Residents seek mostly a connection with their own private exterior spaces. The parcels structure is tightly knit, and streets serve mostly to provide access to and circulation between individual private properties. In residential districts with single-family homes, local streets with little traffic can also assume a neighborhood function as a meeting place or play area. Several strategies can be differentiated. In homogeneously structured perimeters such as Munich’s Waldstraße and Vienna’s Schippergasse, with a ratio of public spaces of just 12.5 to 16 percent, the public space is restricted to the street network . In Munich, and to some degree in Vienna, the street width allows for narrow sidewalks on both sides, which means that pe­d­ estrian and vehicular use can occur simultaneously within the same street space in safely segregated paths. These streets usually have a local speed limit of 30 km. This speed limit also applies to the Im Heimgärtli perimeter in Zurich. Given a similarly low ratio of public space of nearly 14 percent, coupled with a greater structural and aesthetic homogeneity, there are, however, no sidewalks or pedestrian paths. The streets are much narrower and are used by both cars and pedestrians. Practically speaking, cars need to slow down to walking speed in this district.

Waldstraße in Munich and Schippergasse in Vienna with sidewalks and a narrow district street in Zurich’s Heimgärtli

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Moreover, the extremely narrow main street is privately owned, and traffic access is regulated accordingly. This tranquility and the proximity between public and private space only contribute to the intimate social atmosphere of this district. As a pedestrian, one almost has the sense of being an intruder trespassing on private property. With a nearly identical ratio of public space, 14.4 percent, the Privatstraße 6 perimeter in Berlin, with its narrow side streets with unpaved verges, has in some ways an even more intimate ambience than the Im Heimgärtli perimeter. But this neighborly proximity is structured and divided by a much wider axis road with a green verge, which surrounds a small park at the center of the district. Instead of a uniform street grid, this perimeter establishes a hierarchy within the public space. The side streets are as narrow as they can possibly be. The space that is gained by this means is invested into the main street and the small park at the heart of the area. By virtue of their scale, these two spaces do make a contribution to the sense of public life and create a core that is usable by all as a shared space. At the same time, the main street (and the park) serve as orientation guides within the multi-colored monotony of detached houses. In actuality, these spaces see very little use, as the private yard remains the center of activity for most residents. Nevertheless, the district is characterized by this orderly structural symmetry, which makes it highly recognizable and creates a strong identity or sense of place. Spatial hierarchies are also present in the residential districts in density categories 2 and 3, with detached homes on Berlin’s Drake­straße (density factor 0.41) with 15.3 percent public space and on Vienna’s Larochegasse (density factor 0.70) with 22.5 percent public space. The Drakestraße is the broad main traffic artery of the district; it forms a structuring street junction with the Holbeinstraße. Some corners at other intersections in the district expand into larger spaces and accommodate individual public and commercial uses. This invests them with the characteristics of small public squares, albeit not suitable for whiling away the time due to the heavy flow of traffic on Drakestraße. The crossroads take on this function: in contrast to the asphalt surface of the Drakestraße, they are paved with cobblestones and bordered by a wide green strip with large boulevard trees that separates the road from the sidewalk. The powerful presence of public green space transforms these residential streets into almost park-like environments, which would not be achievable by the presence of private yards alone. Vienna’s district on the Larochegasse has a very similar street image with trees and a green strip. But this perimeter also benefits from a park at its core — a central public open space for all residents, similar to that in the Privatstraße district, although the Viennese make better use of their park. Even without taking the park into consideration in terms of area analysis,7 at 22.5 percent the Viennese district has a higher ratio of public spaces than Berlin’s perimeters, with 15 percent for the Drakestraße and only 14.4 percent for the Privatstraße. This is largely the result of the smaller urban grid. The more tightly knit the street grid, the greater the area the grid covers within the entire district, leaving less area for public space. The highest proportion of public space among the first three density categories is therefore found in the row housing on the Reindlstraße in Munich-Laim, where 24 percent of the district is area devoted to public use. The small, narrow row house parcels are accessed from two sides. The narrow residential street, made wider and verdant thanks to private front yards, leads to the front entrances; a footpath running

6 Despite their name, all these narrow “Privatstraßen“ (lit. private streets) are located on public land.

Rarely used green space at the center of the residential development on Privatstraße in Berlin and tea dance in the lively Hügelpark on Larochegasse in Vienna

7 In City of Vienna maps, the Hügelpark is identified as a private area. However, it is open to the public and features a playground and a kindergarten.

158 parallel to the street allows access directly into the private yards at the back of the houses. 8 Both routes are part of the public space and benefit from the adjoining private yard areas. The grid is even more tightly knit in the row housing along Vienna’s Pilotengasse; with a mere 13.4 percent this district has the lowest ratio of public spaces in the category. This is not caused by close arrangement of the rows themselves, but rather by the fact that the entire development was constructed on a single privately owned parcel of land, which means that the access paths are also located on private property. This privatization of space that is nevertheless utilized by the public is characteristic for the majority of the perimeters analyzed in the density categories 4 and 5. The parcels develop into large, contiguous private areas, accessed via a few public ring roads and cul-de-sacs. In large housing estates such as the Meierwiesenstraße in Zurich or the Senftenberger Ring in the Märkisches Viertel in Berlin the ratio of public space drops significantly — to below 10 percent. However, this does not mean that the area that can be used by all residents decreases by the same degree. On the contrary: as has already been noted, the site occupancy index of such estates is very low and open areas are consequently more prevalent. The ratio of open space in the total area of such perimeters lies at roughly 85 percent. The defining theme of these districts with average density is “semi-public space.” And the challenge of these areas is already expressed by that term. These are de facto private areas. In contrast to hierarchically organized settlement structures, where there is a clear distinction between private and public space, the boundaries are blurred here. The division and design of tightly knit private parcels gives way to a continuous, generously scaled landscape, which is more or less designed, and into which larger individual buildings are placed, surrounded by open ground. In this case, the structure is first and foremost defined by traffic routes and the placement of parking lots. Within the green spaces, communal facilities such as community centers and playgrounds create focal points. On the other hand, it is difficult to distinguish clear boundaries of ownership in the exterior space. For this reason, the peripheries of such areas are often cluttered with signs that announce regulations or prohibitions, which only serves to render their use more confusing, if not altogether impractical. In large housing estates dating back to the 1970s, 9 the generous green spaces run the risk of deteriorating into mere setbacks with little recreational use or value.10 In the 1980s, efforts were undertaken to counter these problems with more tightly knit structures. For example, the proportion of public spaces in the Viennese Ringofenweg perimeter, over 17 percent, is nearly twice that of the Senftenberger Ring district in Berlin, although both belong to density category 5. This is largely the result of the smaller scale of the access routes to the parcels, which are still quite large but more densely developed.11 Small private yards in front of many of the ground-floor units between the rows are an attempt at introducing a privatized hierarchy here. But challenges with a lack of allocation persist with the remaining areas, which are subjected to many rules as semi-public spaces and are therefore barely utilized. The district on Konrad-Dreher-Straße in Munich has no real public spaces within its perimeter. The ratio of 14.5 percent is exclusively distributed across the streets that flank the area. Still, there is a

Evaluation

8 With just 21 percent public area, Bruno Taut’s Hochsitzweg residential estate has a similar structure.

Public district road and garden path to the rear of the properties in the residential area on Reindlstraße in Munich

9 See the perimeters on Quiddestraße, Prinzgasse, Meierwiesenstraße, and Senftenberger Ring. 10 On the topic of semi-public spaces, see the section “Hierarchies!” in the chapter “The City as Social Space”.

11 The Ringofenweg perimeter has 64 percent open space, while 87 percent of the area in the Senftenberger Ring 87 is open space.

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smattering of small areas with playgrounds and public benches for the local residents, who utilize these spaces to varying degrees. There is no real identification among the residents with the public space provided. The quality of semi-public spaces is dependent on their design and upkeep. If they are functionally and esthetically designed to match the needs of the residents, and maintained and looked after accordingly, they can provide a valuable exterior space with park-like qualities for many users. Public spaces such as Fernand Pouillon’s Le Point du Jour in the Boulogne-Billancourt district near Paris demonstrate the potential as well as the effort required to create well-designed and well-maintained semi-public spaces. Initiatives of similar care and quality, albeit in a fairly simple form, are found in the Meierwiesenstraße perimeter in Zurich. Yet the investment required is a deterrent to many property owners, and the property management companies tend to minimize their efforts to the best of their abilities. But another problem associated with these spaces is unrelated to their design. They privatize areas that are functionally assigned to public uses such as paths, streets, and squares, in effect promoting the formation of islands of parallel worlds that are only partially integrated with the urban organism. Fundamentally, the districts in the middle density categories are seeking to find a solution in their public and private exterior spaces for a very popular and contemporary desire to live in a green environment with plenty of open space, all the while being able to enjoy the amenities of urban life. The exterior space as a recreation and activity area plays an important role for both of these desires, albeit with differing requirements. Urban initiatives, which focus on semi-public spaces in keeping with modern urban planning, seek to create expansive green spaces that are generally only accessible to local residents. The upkeep of these spaces requires much dedication on the part of the private owners and a high degree of permeability with regard to placement within the plan: only then can the desired landscape qualities of the semi-public spaces be realized. For a sense of living in a park-like setting only takes hold if the green areas are well taken care of and the distances between buildings are generous enough. Not a few residents and experts bemoan the lack of an urban quality of life in combination with a high concentration of residents in a small area. The only compensation for this disadvantage seems to be to provide the best possible regional transportation links to the city center. In each case, this generates additional traffic flows into the nearby city, which in turn deplete the social cohesion of life in the district. The emergence of an urban atmosphere is thus prevented in these districts, despite the pluralistic composition of the residents. The same density can also be achieved nearer to the city and with a comparable “green atmosphere” with the help of hierarchical spatial divisions and small parcels. In this study, this is exemplified by the Scheuchzerstraße district in Zurich. Private and public areas are clearly differentiated here and, despite a lack of town squares, public space accounts for 22 percent of the total area, covering nearly a quarter of the entire perimeter. Each building is accessible from public streets and closely linked to the transportation network of the city. The garden-like atmosphere in the district is the result of two urbanplanning decisions. On the one hand, the Scheuchzerstraße is planted

Private paths in the residential areas on Pilotengasse in Vienna, Konrad-DreherStraße in Munich, and Ringofenweg in Vienna

Manicured exterior spaces in Zurich’s housing estate on Meierwiesenstraße, which are connected by open groundfloor zones

160 with mature trees, which transforms the public streetscape into a verdant continuum with a specific canopy height within the district. And on the other hand, the buildings are erected in the centers of relatively small parcels.12 The narrow green spaces that surround each house create exterior spaces that are can be individually used and designed. In the streetscape, these rather small yards seem to merge into a connecting green space, which defines the atmosphere of the district as a whole. At the same time, the tight rows of individually designed buildings create an urban atmosphere in the streetscape, and this despite a ratio of unbuilt, open space approaching 70 percent. Still, there are no public squares. The generous balconies or loggias play an important role, enlivening the streetscape in the form of personal exterior spaces. This urban principle distributes the effort required for care and maintenance across many owners, minimizing individual investments and yet promoting and supporting individual initiatives. The street becomes a social reflection of the residents who live there.

Evaluation

12 See the district analysis for details of the land use plan for the Scheuchzerstraße perimeter.

Garden atmosphere in the side streets off Scheuchzerstraße in Zurich

From density category 6 onwards (density factor 1.5 and up), the

development structure is more closed and private exterior spaces decrease in favor of public spaces. If, as previously described, one understands urbanity as an urban and architectural manifestation of a dense and mixed social life, then true urban life, which requires the appropriate action spaces and stages to unfold, begins with this category.

Category 6 occupies a special position. It is to some extent a transition category between those density categories that strive for a

balance between privacy and access to nature and those that supply the requirements of social life in the city centers. The district surrounding the Bonner Straße in Berlin tries to manage this dichotomy in a stunning manner. With its enclosed block edge developments, it harks back to inner-city structures from the Gründerzeit and boasts a relatively high ratio of public spaces, at 31 percent. At the same time, the front yards, boulevard trees, and verdant courtyards speak to a yearning for as much nature in the city as possible. Given the same ratio of public spaces, the block edge developments on Vienna’s Hasnerstraße are fully dedicated to innercity life without green spaces along the streets and appear much livelier. The houses in the Tumblingerstraße perimeter in Munich offer yet another urban planning solution. The structure in this district also attempts to combine living in a green environment with urban qualities. And although the district has considerably less public space, than the Bonner Straße and the Hasnerstraße, with only 24.5 percent, the streetscapes here somehow appear greener and less cramped. As a kind of hybrid between block edge development and single-family neighborhood, one unique factor lies in the internal network of paths through the compact blocks on private property. The district on the Bändliweg in Zurich (density factor 1.55) could be interpreted as a sanitized version of the small Munich-style blocks in the Tumblingerstraße on a uniform basis. Here, the building masses are grouped in seven voluminous buildings. This arrangement surrounds the buildings with large semi-public spaces13 that are sealed with a variety of coverings and additionally subdivided, which attempt to offer an urban variation of the neighboring large housing estate on Meierwiesenstraße. In contrast to the Tumblingerstraße, however, the district in Zurich remains insular and isolated without internal public streets.

Verdant streetscapes in Bonner Straße in Berlin and urban block-edge developments in Vienna’s Hasnerstraße

Narrow lanes along the Tumblingerstraße in Munich 13 See the analysis of the Bändliweg perimeter. The entire public space (22.5 percent of the area) is distributed across the streets that surround the perimeter.

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In the perimeters of the density categories 7, 8 , and 9, which are analyzed here, the phenomenon of the semi-public space is almost entirely absent. The close social cohabitation, as well as the long history of many of these districts, favors small parcels and maximum utilization of all available building areas. The ratio of unbuilt area in these categories drops from about 60 to less than 40 percent. Conversely, the ratio of public space rises to as much as 41 percent. The analysis perimeters of the three top density categories are defined by block edge developments of the kind typical in most Central European city centers. Structurally, we can distinguish two different urban planning patterns. In the first pattern, there are the old town areas that have grown up over the course of centuries, such as the Spiegelgasse in Zurich, the Im Tal in Munich, and the Wollzeile in Vienna. Even a cursory look at the ground plans of these districts reveals the irregularities in their tightly knit urban plan. The parcels are very small and the network of paths is usually geared towards walkability. The public spaces, ranging from 26 to 33 percent, are spatially structured and divided by a web of narrow streets and lanes with a few isolated spaces opening up into town squares. The historically grown web of functions and ownership profiles also provides the rationale for the siting, scale, and proportion of this great variety of seemingly organic spaces. Many of the main lanes in these historic cores run along the same lines as the trade routes of long ago. Since the medieval city districts were enclosed within the confines of city walls, this type of urban plan tends to treat its open space with the utmost economy. The ratio of unbuilt area lies between 37 and 47 percent. Where private homes or smaller businesses are only accessible on foot, the lanes are often extremely narrow, whereas streets are correspondingly wider and bordered by shops and other businesses along routes once used by horse-drawn carts travelling along a trade route. Streets were laid out even wider for markets or in front of public building;14 at times, public squares were created for these sites. There is usually very little green in these small exterior spaces. Since the origins of these districts often date back to the Middle Ages, nature was still easily accessible from these relatively small, walled towns; there was no real need for recreational public greens and trees within the city walls.15 But private yards abound, historically often used for self-sufficiency in the form of vegetable garden plots and the like. Today, these spaces are privileged oases amid the bustle of the city. Thanks to the gradual evolution of the tightly knit grid of small parcels, a balance of built versus unbuilt areas has emerged as a matter of course, always premised on optimal use of the available area. Thus the urban plan — both in terms of structure and in terms of the atmosphere in its streets and squares — becomes a mirror of the functions, the social mix, and the lifestyle typical of the period. Today these districts are the historic identifiers of their cities. This means that they often suffer from the consequences of adapting to tourist requirements: traditional shops disappear, to be replaced by international chains and shops catering to tourists, apartments are converted into offices or hotels and restaurants. Still, the tightly knit structure offers a new potential for regeneration of these city models, especially in the current atmosphere of renewed enthusiasm for traffic calming, pedestrianization, and neighborly integration. These top density categories also include the classic urban expansions dating from the baroque era at the end of the seventeenth century16

Detached housing blocks on Bändliweg in Zurich

Square expansion and narrow lanes on the Spiegelgasse in Zurich

14 Examples of expanded street spaces that also served as market squares are Im Tal in Munich and the Rindermarkt in Zurich’s Spiegelgasse perimeter. 15 Once fortifications were no longer required and fell into disuse, some grad­ ually developed into the first green spaces of a city. Many of these are still preserved as a green belt surrounding the old town, for example, in Vienna.

16 See the Friedrichstraße perimeter in density category 9.

162 and predominantly from the so-called Gründerzeit in the latter years of the nineteenth century.17 Available space is treated no less eco­ nomically in these districts. However, since they were developed quickly over a relatively short period of time, their planners had to resort to the drawing board to sketch out prospective structures that could efficiently accommodate a wide range of functions and adapt to different demographics and topographies. The principle of the street grid, which has been around for millennia, has proved to be the most advantageous and flexible. It is interesting that the land use plans of the baroque as well as those of the late nineteenth century tended to only define the streets outlining the block edge and the maximum building height. Building density within the blocks was undefined and unregulated; as a result, development of the block interiors progressed in a wide range of styles and densities. The ratio of open space to total area in the perimeters in this category ranges from barely 42 percent to 63 percent. The ratio of public spaces ranges from barely 26 to over 40 percent and is, on average, higher than in the old town districts. By and large, public space in these districts is concentrated in the street network, with focal points here and there in the form of unbuilt blocks in the grid, which are then used as parks or town squares. Large intersections also represent public space in these perimeters. The width of the streets and the dimensions of the blocks, in other words, determine the quantitative ratio of public space.18 The design of the street spaces therefore has a major influence on the quality of the atmosphere in this type of district. From the late nineteenth century onward, the streets in the Gründerzeit district grew wider, offering “more light and air,” and were designed to handle the increasing traffic volume. One consequence was that sidewalks for pedestrians were strictly separated from traffic lanes. To this day, the generous sidewalks in many districts from this era bear witness to the fact that circulation on foot was still more of a focus than vehicular traffic when these streets were created. Moreover, with the rapid expansion of the cities, the landscape beyond the city boundaries grew ever more distant. As a consequence, the green space within these street grids became more important. Many of these nineteenth-century streets are still lined with boulevard trees. These rows of trees separate the footpaths from the traffic lanes, while the height of their canopies provides privacy against curious eyes for the windows and balconies of the apartments on the upper floors. On several levels, the trees provide an efficient structure for the life on the street and invest it with a calming, verdant atmosphere.19 Where paved squares offered space for trading and social life in the medieval towns, the urban expansion plans of the nineteenth century envisioned parks to offer the working residents recreational areas immediately adjacent to the densely populated housing blocks. 20 The round public spaces that dot the Weißenburger Straße in Munich’s Pariser Platz district are an exception, a mix of paved public spaces and green parks in keeping with the Parisian model. This type of planted town square derives its impact from the form, which creates a good sense of place and provides options for many uses. Although a large portion of the public space is paved, the overall impression is one of a green space and a park-like atmosphere promising relaxation. Restaurants and cafes are drawn to these areas and the green public space soon becomes a local recreation. When a city reaches a certain size, which in the case of the four cities — Berlin, Munich, Vienna, and Zurich — analyzed in this study occurred only in the nineteenth century, the landscape beyond the city limits

Evaluation

17 See the following perimeters for comparison: Hasnerstraße (density category 6); Raabestraße; Pariser Platz; Fockygasse; Kanzleistraße (density category 7); Christburger Straße; Hahngasse (density category 8); Schwanthalerstraße; and Bahnhofstraße (density category 9).

Block-edge developments from the Gründerzeit on Raabestraße

18 The Christburger Straße perimeter in Berlin has the highest ratio of public space of the entire analysis: over 40 percent. This is due to the relatively large total area covered by street spaces surrounding the narrow development squares in the district.

Baroque street axis on Friedrichstraße in Berlin 19 See the section “Green Space and Architecture” in the “Conclusion”.

20 However, many of these small city parks, which were created as a result of the original urban expansion plans from the nineteenth century (e.g. the Hobrecht Plan, Berlin) were never realized because of pressure from investors for more development land. At times, cemeteries would assume the function of green spaces.

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becomes too distant to be readily accessible in daily life. The green space or park, therefore, has brought a piece of nature into the city, improving the climate in both senses of the word: environmental and social. Use

Ground-Floor Uses The individual perimeters in this analysis were selected for their variety in urban lifestyle quality. With the exception of the commercial districts in the densest perimeters, housing is thus the predominant use in all density categories. However, ground floor uses such as retail and office also contribute to the life of the street and hence to the atmosphere of even those districts with the least density. They establish a connection between street and building, creating a sense of place and promoting communication among residents. The breaks after the second and the fifth density categories, which were noted with regard to building height and the distribution of public space, are also evident in the use of the perimeters. The first two categories are characterized by purely residential use, most of it in the form of single-family homes with private yards. The atmosphere in these districts is therefore private and intimate. Still, some public ground floor uses for businesses or restaurants register even from the second density category onwards, although they represent only a maximum of 2 percent. In perimeters such as the Drakestraße in Berlin, these uses create meeting places for the local residents at street intersections amid the otherwise very quiet residential atmosphere. Once we get into the third density category, nearly all the buildings are multi-story housing. The buildings are taller and horizontally layered in terms of function, while the number of residents increases. In density categories 3 to 5, individual public uses of the ground floor spaces are an important element in the districts, ensuring access to supplies and services for the residents in proximity to their homes. The ratio of public uses increases from 3 to 5 percent in these categories. Modern and late modern row housing, in particular — such as the Goebelstraße in Berlin’s Siemensstadt and the Altwiesenstraße in Zurich — integrated small corner shops to provide the settlements with a degree of autonomy. Today, many of these shops are struggling to survive since public transportation links to the city center have been improved and less expensive shopping centers on the periphery are easily accessible by car. In large housing estates such as Vienna’s Prinzgasse or Berlin’s Senftenberger Ring, public uses are concentrated in low-rise shopping centers with the aim of creating a small city-within-a-city, with the result that the ratio of public uses rises to 10 and even to 15 percent in these districts. In density categories 6 and 7 the ratio is the same, ranging from 10 to 15 percent, but here ground floor uses of this kind are distributed across the entire perimeter. Shops and restaurants are therefore able to stimulate life on the street in all areas of the perimeters. In the Kanzleistraße in Zurich this value reaches nearly 38 percent because many ground floor units are occupied for commercial uses and large schools are located within the perimeter. Aside from this, the dominant use is still residential.

Boulevard trees on Christburger Straße in Berlin and the lavishly planted Weißenburger square in Munich

Small local shops on Drakestraße and on Goebelstraße in Berlin

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Evaluation

In density categories 8 and 9 the ratio of public uses rises sharply to over 60 percent, as these central locations also draw people from outside the district and even outside the city itself. These perimeters should no longer be regarded as separate districts in this regard, since their function is based on integration with the entire urban area for which they are the commercial center. These inner-city commercial districts are therefore the only perimeters in this study where public uses exceed residential uses. In particular, the perimeters in density category 9, such as the Friedrichstraße in Berlin, have a residential ratio of just over 25 percent. And even these few residential units are rarely year-round apartments; instead, many are a second or even third pied-à-terre for business people. Location, Traffic, and Social Data

Location in the City Area, Public Transportation, Rental Price, Residency Concentration, and Population Turnover Generally speaking, density increases continuously in the analyzed perimeters from the outer perimeter towards the city centers. Most residential areas with single-family homes with the lowest densities are located on the edge of the cities. The higher and the highest densities are all in central locations such as the Gründerzeit districts and in and old town cores and their historical environs. The middle density categories are located in the areas between these two poles. As with most of the other analysis perimeters, the large housing estates from the 1960s and 1970s are once again the exception. Since they are organized as autonomous (satellite) cities, they are usually located on the periphery, despite their middle-range density. Location has a tremendous impact on the atmosphere of a district, on its design and on the social composition of the residents. The low densities in categories 1 and 2 on the urban peripheries are dependent on good (public) transportation, because work places as well as shopping options tend to be relatively distant. As recently as the late 1980s, most residents relied on personal transportation. The car was the symbol for a self-determined and autonomous life in a green environment. As traffic volumes increased, matched by a growing awareness of environmental issues, walkability and public transport links are gaining in importance, especially in these green settings. For example, when the Waldstraße perimeter in Munich was connected to the U-Bahn or subway network in the late 1990s in addition to the existing streetcar line, the district saw a sudden jump in population numbers. Even today, at 138 percent, population turnover rates continue to be unusually high and dynamic in the Waldstraße district. By comparison, the Schippergasse perimeter in Vienna, which has poor links to public transportation, has a population turnover rate of only 12 percent. The district on Zurich’s Schlösslistraße, in turn, also has a low turnover rate of 23 percent and only marginal public trans­ portation in the form of a single bus line. Nevertheless, the rental rates are the highest in this density group, at 142 percent of the city’s mean rate. This has to do with the fact that the inner city is within walking distance and, above all, with the attractive views from the sunny location on a slope. The lowest rental rates in comparison to the mean rental rates in the city in these two density categories are found in Berlin’s Drakestraße perimeter, at only 94 percent. Although this area also

Low-rise buildings of the central shopping center on Senftenberger Ring in Berlin

Streetscapes defined by public uses: Weißenburger Straße on Pariser Platz in Munich, Friedrichstraße in Berlin, and Schwanthalerstraße in Munich

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boasts detached houses in a green setting, the great distance to the city center translates into these relatively reasonable rental rates. Traditional residential areas in more convenient locations, such as Im Heimgärtli in Zurich, achieve rental rates of 110 percent despite a very modest building substance. The occupation density, on the other hand, is not only connected to location parameters but also highly dependent on the building type and the social structure in a district. The predominantly middle class single-family-home neighborhood on Munich’s Waldstraße has therefore a relatively large area per resident: 310 square meters. This value arises from the fact that each family has their own house. But it is also once again influenced by the location because the convenient public transportation links by bus, streetcar, and subway and the green surroundings attract many young couples and their families to the district, a demographic that would be more likely to live downtown were it not for the excellent public transportation available in this area. Lower-middle-class row housing offers significantly less living space per resident: one example is the Pilotengasse in Vienna with 59 square meters per resident. In the middle categories 3, 4, and 5, multi-story apartment buildings in different locations dominate. While Gründerzeit districts such as the Holbeinstraße perimeters in Munich and the Scheuchzerstraße in Zurich are located in inner cities, most settlements in this category are located closer to the urban edge and are once again dependent on good transportation links. In contrast to the single-family home districts in the lowest density categories, these districts have much higher population densities and endeavor to provide infrastructural amenities such as shops, schools, clinics, and daycares that are reachable on foot in order to save residents the inconvenience of long distances. However, this is only partially successful, since most workplaces are still some distance away and larger purchases are still made by car or by taking public transportation. This problem is ex­ acerbated in the satellite cities, where public transportation is lacking. Located some 14 kilometers from Vienna’s Donaustadt, the Prinzgasse perimeter, for example, was connected only by streetcar for a very long time. A subway station was finally built as recently as 2013. Zurich’s Meierwiesenstraße, on the other hand, is well served by a streetcar: the trip to downtown takes only 15 minutes. Transportation issues in satellite cities also affect the population turnover rates, which, at more than 25 percent, are much higher than those in centrally located Gründerzeit districts in the middle categories. With a mere 16 percent new or relocating residents, the Prinzgasse is far less dynamic. With a low turnover rate of only 14 percent, the population in the Munich perimeter on the Konrad-DreherStraße, which lies roughly ten kilometers from Marienplatz at the heart of the city, is the most stable and the easiest to reach by highway. The rental rates in this density category range between 92 and 124 percent, with the lowest rate in the Altwiesenstraße perimeter in Zurich-Schwamendingen, which is six kilometers from the city center. This district is defined by 1950s row housing with simple apartments, although it has recently been undergoing a transition. Residents in Zurich’s Scheuchzerstraße, where bourgeois apartments in buildings from the Gründerzeit are located close to the city center, pay the highest rental rates. In categories 3, 4, and 5, occupation densities range between 30 square meters in the Quiddestraße perimeter in Munich’s Neu­ perlach satellite city and 114 square meters in the Gründerzeit villa

Bus stop on Drakestraße in Berlin and steep stairs serving as short cut from the Schlösslistraße to the city center in Zurich

Streetcar tracks on Zurich’s Bändliweg and residential homes near the city center on Munich’s Holbeinstraße

Anonymous slab buildings on Munich’s Quiddestraße

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Evaluation

district around Vienna’s Larochgasse. This population turnover is the result of the building type and social mix in the districts, rather than the location as such. Both districts lie roughly eight kilometers from the city center and have subway links nearby. The perimeters in density categories 6 and 7 are mostly characterized by Gründerzeit block edge development in inner-city locations. Car traffic is less important here. Instead, there is a dense network of public transportation and it is walking distance to public institutions and retail areas, parameters that are key for a good location. All districts in these two density categories more or less meet these requirements. The rental rate is thus at about 100 percent of the mean value in each respective city. In the two Viennese districts, this value drops to nearly 75 percent. This means that the residents in the Hasnerstraße and Fockygasse perimeters pay the lowest rents in the entire study. 21 However, both districts have excellent transpor­ tation links and are close to the city centers. The rental rates in these former laborers’ districts are influenced by the tremendous mix in the population and the older building fabrics, which have not been renovated, rather than by the location. This is also evident in the occupation density of the two Viennese perimeters, which at less than 60 square meters per resident is the highest in these two density categories. In the remaining perimeters, residents have living areas ranging from 70 to 90 square meters22 — larger than those in the middle density categories. This is largely a product of the generous layout of Gründerzeit apartments, originally designed for large extended families, but today mostly occupied by couples or small families. Larger families or shared living arrangements are only found in the two multicultural districts in Vienna. The population turnover rates are especially low in the perimeters at the extreme ends of the scale: those with the lowest rental rates and those with the highest. The two inexpensive perimeters on Hasnerstraße and Fockygasse have a turnover rate of only about 33 percent. The expensive Munich districts on Tumblingerstraße and Pariser Platz actually have turnover rates of only 23 and 15 percent respectively. These low rates reflect the popularity of these districts. In one case the popularity is due to the good location, and in the other it is due to the attractive architecture combined with a good location and the low vacancy rates in the city. The highest density categories, 8 and 9, are exceptional. They form the city centers, and commercial uses are significant here. Owing to their central location these districts are often transportation hubs within the city. In the district itself, however, walkability is more sig­ nificant because all the necessary amenities are within reach. Districts such as Niederdorf in Zurich’s Spiegelgasse, the Bahnhofstraße in the same city, or Vienna’s Hahngasse are largely traffic calmed or even pedestrian zones. The environment is designed to offer a pleasant shopping experience. The rental rates are especially high here as a result of the high leasing rates for retail spaces. In the Spiegelgasse perimeter in Zurich’s old town, the rental rate rises to a peak of 166 percent of the city’s average rate. But even districts with more residential use, such as the Christburger Straße in Berlin-Prenzlauer Berg has a relatively high rental rate of 103 percent. 23 In this category, the residential area on Vienna’s Hahngasse is the only district with rental rates that are clearly below average at 93 percent.

Individual, detached urban villas on Vienna’s Larochegasse

21 With rental rates at 66 percent of the city’s mean rental rate, the subsidized residential district on the Bändliweg in Zurich is unrivalled in terms of affordability.

22 In Zurich’s Bändliweg perimeter, the residency concentration is especially low at 113 square meters per resident; however, this is only the case because the district is defined by subsidized housing with large family units.

Typical streets from the Gründerzeit in the districts on Hasnerstraße and Fockygasse in Vienna, formerly home to tradesmen and craftsmen

23 The unusually low rental rate of 94 percent in Berlin’s Friedrichstraße is explained by the relatively high proportion of old buildings that have not been re­ novated or upgraded in this perimeter.

167

Density, Atmosphere, and Numbers

The occupation density is comparable to the high values in density categories 6 and 7, but only in the residential districts. In the areas where commercial uses dominate, it is several hundred square meters per person. The presence of many department stores and offices pushes the area parameter in Zurich’s Bahnhofstraße to several thousand square meters per person. The population turnover rates provide little insight into location and use. The lowest turnover rate of only 22 percent is found in the long established old-town district of the Wollzeile in Vienna, while the dynamic and multicultural Schwanthalerstraße perimeter in Munich has the highest turnover rate.

The Cities and their Parameters In addition to their significance for the density categories, the analysis parameters also provide important insights into the character of the respective cities. The following paragraphs present a comparison of the influence of the individual parameters in Vienna, Zurich, Berlin, and Munich, and the differences that emerge based on average values in all perimeters in each city. Height and Area Parameters

Building Height and Number of Floors, Floor Area Ratio, and Site Occupancy Index If one calculates the average floor area ratio (FAR) of all analyzed perimeters for each city, Munich has an average FAR of 1.48 and Vienna of 1.45: these two cities therefore have the highest area parameters and hence the highest density. The perimeters in Berlin and Zurich, on the other hand, have an average FAR of 1.4 and significantly less density. A similar profile emerges for the site occupancy index (SOI). Once again, Munich and Vienna have the highest values, with 0.35 and 0.36 respectively. With average SOIs of 0.29 and 0.28, the indices in Berlin and Zurich are again considerably below those of the other two cities. But the profile is reversed when we look at height and number of floors. Zurich has the highest average height of buildings, at 15.6 meters, and the greatest number of floors at 4.6; it is followed by Berlin with an average building height of 13.4 meters and 5 floors on average. In Munich, the average building height is only 10.7 meters, with 3.7 floors, while Vienna only reaches an average building height of 9.1 meters and 3.1 floors. These results are also evident in the city image. Berlin spreads out as a large green city. The streets tend to be wide, and there are many parks, squares, and green areas. Zurich’s streets are significantly narrower, but the development is not as dense and there are few block edge developments with courtyards. The great building height in Zurich is the product of the homogeneous building height in the city, similar to that in Berlin. In Munich and Vienna, on the other hand, the maximum eaves heights allowed by building codes eaves heights are much lower, resulting in a lower average building height.

Traffic calmed zones in Vienna’s Hahngasse

Pedestrian zone in Zurich’s Niederdorf in the Spiegelgasse area

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Evaluation

Public and Private Exterior Space

Undeveloped, Public, and Private Areas; Parceling In connection with the average FARs and building heights, the cities in this study can again be divided into two groups with regard to open, undeveloped areas. With low floor area ratios and site occupancy indices, Berlin and Zurich have the highest ratio of unbuilt area: 72 percent for Berlin and 71.5 percent for Zurich. Land use is much more intensive in Munich and Vienna, where the amount of open, undeveloped area is 65 and 63.5 percent respectively. The distribution of private spaces across the total areas of the perimeters confirms this image. The highest averages (49.5 percent each) are found in Berlin and Zurich, while Munich and Vienna have 42 and 41 percent. The ratio of public spaces in the total area is roughly the same across the board at approximately 23 percent, with the value dropping slightly to 22 percent in Zurich. In other words, the higher ratio of open, undeveloped area in Berlin and Zurich is not utilized to create public spaces but remains private property. Nevertheless, the urban image of Berlin appears far more generous in spatial terms than the other three cities. In Berlin, the open spaces are directly or indirectly related to the large scale of the street space. In Zurich they are distributed across a tightly knit network of exterior spaces. In Munich and Vienna, the public benefits somewhat more from the open areas, although the cities as a whole show a more densely developed urban image. Social Data

Occupation Density and Population Turnover Based on the average occupation density in density categories 3 to 7, which are dominatwed by multi-story apartment buildings, the highest area values are found in Berlin (76 square meters) and Zurich (81 square meters). Each resident in Vienna has an average available living space of 72 square meters and in Munich this value is “only” 65 square meters. All of these values are nevertheless remarkably high24 and are testimony to the demographic shift in the population, as households have steadily decreased in size. 25 A comparison of the average values of the population turnover rates26 in the four cities reveals a fairly heterogeneous image and does not seem to correlate to the occupation rates. Yet these values provide important information about the atmosphere and dynamics in each city. Berlin — the city characterized as the most adaptable, dynamic, and international of all the cities in this study — has the highest turnover rate with 64 percent. The flourishing and expanding city of Munich is in second place, with a turnover rate of 52 percent. Despite many dynamic developments, Zurich’s turnover rate is quite low at only 42 percent. 27 And with a modest 25 percent, Vienna is a distant last among the four cities in terms of population turnover rates. This rate is thus a reliable indicator of the dynamism, popularity, and character of a city. 28

Pedestrian zone in the Bahnhofstraße perimeter in Zurich

24 Thus the Federal Office for Spatial Development (ARE), Zurich, has established an average floor area of 40 to 45 square meters per resident (residency concentration). It is worth noting, how­ ever, that the “the calculation is based on the total sum of residents in a community. That is, residents who live in buildings that are allocated to uses such as ‘service providers,’ ‘industry,’ ‘agriculture,’ and ‘other,’ are included in the calculation. This means that the actual floor area per resident is even higher.” Source: Department of Building and Construction, Canton of Zurich, Federal Office for Spatial Development (ARE), Spatial Planning Department, Available Floor Area 2000–2009, Zurich 2011. 25 For example, in Switzerland only 14.2 percent of total residents were living in one-person households in 1960; by 2000, this number had risen to 36 percent. The average residency con­ centration (floor area per resident) has risen from 34 square meters per re­ sident in 1980 to 44 square meters per resident in 2000. And this figure con­ tinue to rise. Source: Federal Statistical Office (FSO), Neuchâtel, Switzerland 2014. 26 Percentage of residents moving into or out of the district between 1996 and 2006. 27 The relatively low population turnover rate in contrast to the dynamic changes in the city is largely due to the fact that this study analyzes the older and more established districts in Zurich. 28 For more insight into the character of the individual cities, see the literary short stories and portraits in the chapter “City Stories”.

Conclusions

Density and Atmosphere

Karl-Marx-Zentrum complex, Munich-Neuperlach

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Density and Atmosphere

“Density” and “atmosphere” are both terms that have a social and a physical component. The analysis in this book demonstrates that the density of a city is closely linked to the needs of the population, which served as a guide when the architectural form of the district was designed. Ultimately, the density defines how the atmosphere in the district and the entire city is subjectively perceived. The relationship of private to public space plays a central role in this regard. Consequently the conclusions drawn from the analysis are divided into three sections:

The City as Social Space The City as Residential Space The City as Living Space Ultimately, the city should serve as a residential space for all occupants and offer a livable atmosphere in the districts, regardless of which density category they fall into. A summary of the relevant criteria is pre­sented in this section. These criteria reveal that it is possible to develop social and architectural forms for all density categories, from the lowest to the highest. The boundary between city and countryside, for example, can be developed as a soft transition rather than an abrupt shift, creating an integrated, shared living space.

The City as Social Space Social Atmosphere

“And what’s he supposed to do?” “Spread atmosphere!”1 In Gerhard Polt’s short satire “The Bohemian” from 1984, the two protagonists — Polt in the role of building superintendent Faltermeier and Gisela Schneeberger as zealous property owner Mrs. Kerzl — stand on a balcony in Munich’s satellite city Neuperlach. They look down and watch a man in flat cap, neckerchief, and sandals park his bike, buy a bottle of wine in the supermarket, and then settle down in the area beneath their balcony to drink. 2 Mrs. Kerzl has hired this bohemian to, as she puts it, “spread an urban atmosphere” in the large housing estate on the periphery. The satirical message: although the space they are looking at from the balcony was planned as the commercial, cultural, and social center of this section of Neuperlach in the 1970s, it is in fact unable to fulfill this function. People cross the concrete space as quickly as possible, without lingering. An urban space functions in its true sense as a social space by serving as a public meeting place that is a social forum for all residents. To this end, it must possess specific qualities that invite passers-by to linger. The property owner in Polt’s piece believes that she has identified what the space is missing. Therefore she has decided, along with other owners, to breathe some urbanity into the space between the new residential towers by joining forces with the owner of the local café to provide a bohemian with a rent-free unit to entice him into

1 Gerhard Polt, “Fast wia im richtigen Leben” (Almost like real life), episode 10, “Der Bohemien”, Bayrischer Rundfunk, Munich 1984. All subsequent quotes set off from the running text are taken from this source.

2 The scene with Gerhard Polt and Gisela Schneeberger was shot in the Karl-MarxZen­trum complex in the Neuperlach housing estate in Munich, only a few hundred meters from the Quiddestraße perimeter (density category 3). The complex was erected as a sub-center within the satellite city of Neuperlach from 1975 onward.

172 living there. His urbane presence, they hope, will add flair and to the windswept space and indeed the entire impersonal residential district. For among the many thousands of inhabitants in the satellite town, there is not a soul, it seems, willing to spend a bit of time in the space reserved for this purpose. Mrs. Kerzl hopes that the sight of someone enjoying the space will serve as a model for all the other residents and attract public life to the square.

“You’ll see: he’ll hang around drunk as a skunk, just like the other one, you know, the guy who puked all over the place.” A similar initiative with another artist had already failed. Without his familiar urban surroundings, the artist in his role as stage extra was unable to cope with the bleakness of the site and turned to the bottle for comfort. But Mrs. Kerzl persists in her stubborn belief in cultivation through selected individuals. Once these pioneers introduce their artistic presence and style to the periphery, cultural life similar to that in the city center must surely follow. She is already planning to intro­duce a second bohemian in order to accelerate the intended effect.

“I’m telling you, Mr. Faltermeier: We’re going to systematically cultivate the Rosebush Square […] So let’s get another bohemian. . . . We’ll put a second one out there. […] There’s a real cultural life taking hold here. Believe me, Mr. Faltermeier: don’t worry about the atmospheric improvement. The four units I own here, I’ll be able to rent them out so much better. A few bohemians, maybe an actor, and the price per square meter is going to go up by 30 percent, at least!” “Oh, I get it: you want to create a new Schwabing.” What the clever owner really wants to achieve is a kind of artificially inspired gentrification. This process usually occurs organically when the core area of a city grows and previously remote districts suddenly morph into central locations. This new positioning also changes the composition of the residents: in the transition phase, rental rates are still low and commercial areas become available as businesses that require large premises move farther out to the periphery. Typically, artists and the so-called alternative scene are the first to recognize and utilize the potential of the newly available spaces. For a limited period of time, they are the initiators and mediators of transformation, until the inevitable increase in rental rates takes place, bringing with it more affluent residents. In the 1980s, the district of Schwabing was a prime example of this type of metamorphosis. Mrs. Kerzl relies upon a single resident and does not see the urban plan or the architecture as being at fault. After all, she is a participant in the latter as a satisfied property owner, and sees no cause for investigation or criticism. On the contrary: she has identified the potential for maximizing financial gain because she will be able to raise the rent on the apartments she owns, if her plan succeeds. Mrs. Kerzl dreams of a symbiosis of downtown atmosphere and a quiet life in a green setting, the very goal identified by the planners in their programs for satellite cities such as Neuperlach. To her mind, Neuperlach’s shortcomings lie in the absence of a social and cultural life in the public space and the current state of anonymity among residents. She hopes to improve these social factors with the help of individuals who are to serve as standard-bearers.

Conclusions

173 But why should a district that is barely ten years old — as Neuperlach was at the time of this satirical piece — already require some kind of social restructuring? And why is it that the desired social vitalization of such large housing estates has never truly succeeded to this day? Urbanity through Density? When the satellite city of Neuperlach3 was being planned in the 1960s, every effort was made to get it right. Inspired by the guiding vision of urbanity through density, 4 the intent was to create a new model for urban life in a green environment. The urban planners had learned from the mistakes of the uniformly distributed, mono-functional and monotonous ribbon developments of the 1950s, and were placing more value on social and functional structuring and integration, as well as on more attractive architecture. By adhering to the guidelines for a loosely structured city, 5 concentrated pockets of density were intended to achieve a new experiential sense of urban life and an urban atmosphere set into a green environment. However, the satellite cities that were developed on the basis of these good intentions quickly deteriorated into social problem zones. In other words: density based on numbers alone cannot create a functioning atmosphere. Today the motto “Urbanity through Density” is once again bandied about in the daily press and in countless trade publications. But the parameters have changed. In contrast to the 1960s and 1970s, when efforts were aimed at heading off a looming housing crisis by de­ veloping a new urban concept in a green setting — or “in the meadow” in the parlance of the day — the current approach is retroactive den­­ si­fication of existing urban structures. In the early 21st century we are living in an era of strong urban growth, where the retrofitting of entire urban districts is unavoidable. The reason is not a sudden leap in population numbers or a housing crisis, but the growing demands of residents with regard to the design, scale, and location of their housing. Thus the average amount of living space per resident has grown from 34 to 45 square meters over the past 30 years in Switzerland, while the area of settled land per resident has risen from 375 to over 400 square meters. 6 Moreover, fewer and fewer people are living in traditional family structures; as a result, they demand more choice in the design of their own homes as well as in the public space that surrounds them. These new demands are also expressed in expectations with regard to atmosphere. Urban planners and architects, in particular, consider a lifestyle in high-density environments — vaguely paraphrased as urban — as a positive factor. Low density, on the other hand, is condemned as despoiling the landscape and residents in such areas are decried as egotistical “house builders” with no interest in community or cultural responsibility. However, the analysis of the nine density categories in this book has demonstrated that urban planning solutions that create a functioning and livable atmosphere for specific demographic groups can be found for all of these categories, although the form these solutions take must be tailored to the needs and expectations of the type of residents the planners envision in each instance. In all this, the public space — its use, and animation through people — plays a key role.

Density and Atmosphere

3 See the Quiddestraße perimeter in density category 3. 4 In the 1960s and 1970s, the urban model of “Urbanity through Density” was intended to lead to a more urban lifestyle through greater density and urban structures characterized by better internal organization and a mix of functions. Since the plans adhered to the principles of living in a green environment, densi­ fication was achieved by increasing the building height. Rising land prices favored this development. The most prominent realizations of this model are the large-scale satellite cities such as Neuperlach in Munich. 5 Johannes Göderitz, Roland Rainer and Hubert Hoffmann, Die gegliederte und aufgelockerte Stadt (Tübingen 1957).

6 Figures according to the Swiss Federal Statistical Office, status: 2013.

174

Conclusions

To Each Society Its Own Density!

“It wasn’t easy to get him to come out here to the edge of the city.” “Sure, but he gets to live here for free, doesn’t he? He should be happy!” “You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to pry a true bohemian away from his familiar surroundings!” Neuperlach is not Schwabing. In this book the satellite city in Munich7 is allocated to density category 3 under the heading “Urban Apartments in Green Areas.” Conversely, Munich’s Schwabing district, which represents the model Mrs. Kerzl aspires to, is counted among the “Urban Blocks”8 of density category 7. The two districts represent entirely different densities and target resident groups. The bohemian only deigns to move to the large housing estate in exchange for free rent. In Schwabing there is higher density, which creates a downtown atmosphere with many different ground-floor uses and an abundance of local restaurants and cafes. The varied life in the street that goes along with this mix is the breeding ground for the bohemian’s savoir vivre. The newly planned district of Neuperlach, on the other hand, is located on the periphery. Attempts were made to combine an urban lifestyle with a leafy green environment through artificially created urban scenarios like the public square around the Marx-Zentrum high-rise complex. Clearly, the complex fails to satisfy either the needs of the urbanite or those of the suburbanite see­king a quiet environment. This is why Mrs. Kerzl yearns for a social restructuring and stimulation of the district in order to create an urban atmosphere. However, the bohemian whom she has exerted such efforts to lure away from his downtown environment ultimately ends up sitting like a lost soul in front of the café in the periphery, seeking solace in the bottle — just like his predecessor. Certain demographic groups prefer specific densities in terms of buildings and atmosphere, which they associate with a specific set of expectations. It is only when these expectations and needs are fulfilled that a harmonious district with a relaxed atmosphere can develop. What matters, therefore, is to develop urban structures and their specific building densities with great attention to the needs of the anticipated target group and to tailor them to the needs of the residents and their social coexistence. The pleasant atmosphere follows over time, arising from the unique relationship between social and built density as well as the form this density takes in terms of the urban plan and architecture. The 36 perimeters in the nine density categories can thus be allocated to specific social groupings. In the chapter “The Districts,” these categories are divided into three different density groups, with headings that reflect the relevant social positioning and atmospheric ambience. I. Single-family House Idyll

Density categories 1 and 2 (with density factors up to 0.6) were summarized under the heading “Single-family House Idyll.” Families with children are the principal target group. In this context, the

word “idyll” means enjoyment of an autonomous lifestyle in a verdant, quasi-rural environment. In this category, having a close connection to

7 See the Quiddestraße perimeter in Munich-Neuperlach (density category 3).

8 Schwabing’s building density is similar to that of the Pariser Platz pe­rimeter, also analyzed in this study (density category 7).

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Density and Atmosphere

the city yet living independent of the social pressures imposed by urban density are key. Direct contact with a private yard takes pride of place in housing priorities, which is why the detached homes tend to have only one to two stories. Ideally, the atmosphere is quiet and close to nature, characterized by a fine balance of proximity and distance to the neighborhood. Safety — of children and property — is very important. There are few public uses. Small local shops and a few restaurants and beer gardens can make an important contri­bu­tion to a communicative atmosphere; without these, districts of this type can easily tend towards becoming a series of isolated individual housing territories. These areas often go through generational cycles: at first, they are home to young families with children, who enliven the streets and yards. Once the children are grown and leave the parental home, the districts grow quiet with a predominantly ageing population until the next generation once again brings young life into the area. In these density categories retroactive densification is only marginally possible by increasing the land use as long as the garden or yard ratio remains dominant in the overall image. Such interim building measures can shorten the generational cycles in the neigh­ borhoods. Among the perimeters analyzed in this study, two different strategies represent two different attitudes. Both are valid and can successfully create a specific atmosphere in a residential district, but they also demonstrate two entirely different relationships with the city as a whole.

1. Intimate Community Developments9 The first strategy relies on maximum intimacy and a sense of community in the district. Perimeters such as Im Heimgärtli in Zurich

or the Reindlstraße in Munich10 are made up of a network of very narrow public streets that appear intimate, allow reciprocal control of the private sphere in the district, and are notable for having little traffic.11 The residents know each other and like to chat over the garden fence. Yards dominate the public streetscape, which can also serve as a play zone for children. Private and public exterior spaces can develop closely integrated synergies. However if the paths to the homes are privatized and only accessible on foot, as is the case in Vienna’s Pilotengasse perimeter, an atmosphere of a parallel society that is hermetically sealed off from the outside can quickly develop and this runs the risk of marginalizing the urban community. Focal points in the exterior space like the small public park in Berlin’s Privatstraße perimeter can play a positive role in structuring these districts, although they are not strictly necessary, given the em­ phasis on private yards in the small-scale single-family home neighborhoods.

2. Integrated Garden Cities12 The second strategy, by contrast, seeks to integrate the tranquility of a family-oriented residential district as closely as possible with the street network of the city. The streets gain importance as meeting places and traffic arteries outside of the private sphere, and every house is reachable by car, on foot, or by bicycle. This co-ordination of traffic and circulation is also reflected in the street space with sidewalks, parking spaces, and traffic lanes. In perimeters such as the Drakestraße in Berlin-Lichterfelde, the street space is invested

9 The following perimeters are part of this subgroup: Privatstraße in Berlin, Im Heimgärtli in Zurich, Reindlstraße in Munich, and Pilotengasse in Vienna. 10 Unless otherwise stated, the street names mentioned here and in the following refer to the analysed pe­­rim­eter Pariser Platz (density category 7). 11 These streets typically feature a lane reserved for parking and a separate lane for traffic. Driving speeds are limited to 10 to a maximum of 30 km/h.

12 The following perimeters belong to this subgroup: Waldstraße in Munich, Schippergasse in Vienna, Drake­straße in Berlin, and Schlösslistraße in Zurich.

176

Munich, Reindlstraße; Vienna, Prinzgasse Munich, Waldstraße; Berlin, Privatstraße

Conclusions

177

Density and Atmosphere

Zurich, Scheuchzerstraße; Berlin, Friedrichstraße Vienna, Hasnerstraße; Vienna, Schippergasse

178

Conclusions

with a detailed hierarchical structure and a distinctly autonomous spatial task: it features boulevards, green strips, wide sidewalks, and paved roads. All these features combine to give it a greater importance in the community. When developing the new district, which was located far beyond the city gates back in 1860, the investor planned the entire streetscape from the beginning, including the boulevard trees; he connected it to the street network of the capital city, so that interested builders and homeowners could walk along the streets before a single house had been built. His vision paid off: the lots were quickly sold and developed. This focus on the street space in combination with individual shops and restaurants results in a noticeably more urban atmosphere in the district, even though it is a leafy single-family-home neighborhood on the periphery. The subway link to the city rounds out this sense of an urban lifestyle. If one compares individual streets, with and without streetscapes that are hierarchical in structure, in the perimeters in Munich (Waldstraße) or Vienna (Schippergasse), the difference in atmosphere is immediately apparent. When the streetscapes are spacious and designed as inviting spaces, public parks are not necessary but can still offer additional meeting places and assist orientation, as is the case in the Waldstraße in Munich. Open spaces dedicated to specific purposes, such as soccer fields or community centers, can also promote social interaction.13 Broadly speaking, the integrated garden cities have districts that are more urban in atmosphere, less generous in layout, and offer residents more control over the level of proximity or distance they maintain. II. Urban Apartments in Green Areas

Density categories 3, 4, and 5 (with density factors ranging from 0.6 to 1.5) are analyzed under the heading “Urban Apartments in Green areas.” Built density can increase in this group, although open spaces still prevail, with the result that the green spaces are dominant in terms of atmosphere, or at least that there is a balance between the green space and the built fabric. It is in these categories that a shift occurs from single-family homes to apartments, which influences the make-up of the residents: the target groups are residents in shared accommodation, couples and singles, rather than a focus on families with children. The result is a greater social mix with regard to age, lifestyle, and background. Although the connection with the green space is still important, each resident no longer has direct access to a private bit of green space. At the same time, the need for public amenities grows. The intended atmosphere combines an urban lifestyle with the comforts of a quiet life in a green environment . This density group is perhaps the most discussed and desired currently, because it is most compatible with a contemporary sense of living. Many of the new residential districts today are designed with precisely these requirements in mind and seek to create new solutions for this balancing act between city and green space. This is therefore the density group with

13 Communal exterior spaces of this kind are lacking in the Schippergasse in Vienna; as a consequence, the streetscape is less structured and has a more anonymous atmosphere.

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Density and Atmosphere

the greatest divergence in urban planning models and the greatest structural ambiguities. City planners have long experimented with a wide range of typologies in order to tackle this dichotomy of urban housing versus housing in a green setting. From the garden cities at the turn of the 19th to the 20th century to the row housing of modernism (1920s and post-war years), from satellite cities of the 1970s to open block edge structures with integrated green spaces, there is an abundance of different ideas. At the same time, these districts often present the most problematic social, functional, and atmospheric situations, owing to the ambiguous allocation of private and public exterior spaces. Once again, we can distinguish between two fundamentally different planning approaches, although both pursue the same goal — the urban apartment in a green environment:

1. Housing Estates with Landscaped Green Spaces The majority of the districts analyzed in this group integrate compact and, in part, fairly tall buildings into a semi-public (de facto privatized) green space designed as a landscape. However, because the allocation of this green space to specific residents is unclear or al­ together undefined, this configuration rarely develops its full potential of autonomous living within a landscape.14 The relatively large scale of the parcels and the buildings is frequently associated with an atmosphere of anonymity, which can lead to social problems in the district. The buildings can be divided into two subgroups:

a) Individual Building Rows15 In the first subgroup, individual rows of buildings up to four stories high are distributed across a largely unstructured green space. Standardized, prefab building methods, typical of the 1950s, characterize this subgroup. The Zurich district on Altwiesenstraße is a prototype for this urban planning model. There is very little built fabric enclosing the street spaces, which are mostly used as parking zones.

b) Large-Scale Building Complexes16 Although the second subgroup also focuses on creating a landscape continuum, these plans seek to stage urban scenarios with greater building density through more complex spatial divisions, with boulevards, public squares, and cultural and commercial centers. The large-scale building complexes, most of which were constructed in the 1960s and 1970s and are referred to as satellite cities, usually fail to achieve a human scale owing the massive building forms and heights of up to 14 stories. They are also unable to deliver the qualities of urban living in a green setting, as Gerhard Polt’s narrative of the bohemian in Neu­ perlach vividly demonstrates. All contact with the communal green space is lost, and the eye is drawn to the landscape in the distance.

2. Open Block Edge Structures17 The second group of “Urban Apartments in a Green Environment” is configured with small-scale buildings grouped around open block edge structures. These perimeters also seek to create urbanity within a green environment. But they are less focused on a landscape continuum; instead, they seek to establish clear hierarchies between public and private spaces. Plans for districts such as the Scheuchzerstraße in Zurich rely on creating a relationship on a smaller scale between multi-family buildings — typically with no more than eight units — and relatively small private gardens. The street network is more tightly knit

14 To achieve a functioning semi-public green space, there must be a clear delimitation of the public space, detailed landscape planning, intensive maintenance of the green spaces. However, most owners in such settlements shy away from the costs associated with these efforts, with the result that there is fallow or residual and lowquality green space that is uninviting as a meeting place. 15 The following perimeters are part of this subgroup: Altwiesenstraße in Zurich and Goebelstraße in Berlin.

16 The following perimeters are part of this subgroup: Quiddestraße in Munich, Prinzgasse in Vienna, Meierwiesenstraße in Zurich, Senftenberger Ring in Berlin.

17 The following perimeters are part of this subgroup: Larochegasse in Vienna, Konrad-Dreher-Straße and Holbeinstraße, both in Munich, Ringofenweg in Vienna, and Scheuchzer­straße in Zurich.

180

Conclusions

and the public streetscape gains in importance. In the Larochegasse perimeter in Vienna, which has a similar structure, this approach is complemented by a clearly defined square intended as a meeting place for local residents. Despite the relatively low building density, lower population numbers and large private gardens, the park is actively and frequently used and promotes public life in the residential district. In the Holbeinstraße perimeter in Munich, the individual houses are to some extent even combined into enclosed urban block edge developments, although their lush front yards help to maintain the atmosphere of a verdant suburb. Public amenities such as schools and shops complete this urban-green atmosphere, often in direct proximity to the inner city. The perimeters of this subgroup are among the most popular residential districts in their respective cities. III. Inner-City Mix The analyzed perimeters in density categories 6 to 9 are almost exclusively developed with enclosed structures that have an unabashedly urban expression. The eaves heights range from 20 to 22 meters and are typical of Central European inner cities. On the one hand, the street in these districts represents the negative space of the formgiving built fabrics that surround it. On the other hand, the street must be designed with more detail and definition here, because it has to fulfill a more complex task owing to the greater population density in a small area. These categories see a mix of a wide range of population groups of diverse backgrounds and income levels. Families, singles, and students often share the same neighborhood. The public amenities such as schools, administration buildings, and cultural institutions are more numerous and prominent than in the districts of the previous density categories. The closer the perimeter is to the city center, the more dominant are the commercial uses, from small businesses and independent retail stores to office and business centers to large department stores and shopping centers. Traditionally, public squares and markets are integrated into the exterior space. Despite these sim­ ilarities, we can distinguish three fundamentally different urban models within this density group, each model being differentiated according to the residential target groups.

1. Old Towns18

The first subgroup is represented by the old towns, which have de­ veloped historically over the course of centuries and occupy privileged locations in the center of the cities. They usually reflect the urban layout dating back to historical eras, from the Middle Ages to the baroque to the early modern era. Since these urban structures and the preserved buildings reflect the hierarchies and needs of a society from the distant past, they tend to exude a museological ambience and are often dominated by tourism or the requirements of a small elite. These uses tend to overlay the original usage structure. Thus the Niederdorf perimeter in Zurich was originally characterized by trades, church, and bourgeois residents: at that time, it represented the city proper, located within the original city walls and organized into strict social-hierarchical strata and amenities, such as markets, harbors, and monasteries. Today, the use has shifted toward a mix of high-end apartments, small boutiques and tourist shops, hotels, restaurants, and offices. Heritage conservation prevents major demolition and ensures that the tightly knit urban fabric is preserved. Depending on the

18 The following perimeters are part of this subgroup: Im Tal in Munich, Spiegelgasse in Zurich, and Woll­zeile in Vienna.

181

Density and Atmosphere

location and former social standing, building heights fluctuate between one and six stories. Many lanes are extremely narrow and only accessible on foot . The atmosphere oscillates between the tranquil ambience of a village and noisy tourism. These districts are notable for a unique feature: in some cases, private gardens and roof patios offer the lifestyle of a single-family home idyll right in the center of the bustling city.

2. Gründerzeit Districts19 The second subgroup represents the typical Gründerzeit districts from the 19th and early 20th century. They dominate large areas of inner-city districts in Central Europe. Since they were usually developed on the basis of land use plans, which only defined the public street space, the building lines, and the heights of the front buildings, without stipulating the development in the block interiors, they are notable for a wide range of densities, despite having similar street elevations. The strength of this building form lies in the flexibility of its structure. The front buildings often create a generous street space with a uniform eaves height, resulting in a homogeneous impression, frequently complemented by rows of trees and exuding a tranquil, urban-green atmosphere. Gaps can be used for playgrounds and small parks. There are clear horizontal as well as vertical hierarchies evident in both the streets and the buildings. Most of the streets feature wide sidewalks separated by rows of trees from the parking lanes and the passing traffic in the street. This separation is em­ phasized by the use of a variety of surfaces, for example, stone slabs, cobblestones or other paving stones and asphalt for the traffic lanes. The spacious sidewalks allow a wide range of uses for cafés, kiosks, as a play area, or simply as an area for strolling, conversation, or leisure. The facades of the front buildings are individualized with colors and decorative elements. Despite the homogeneity of the development, individual houses therefore benefit from easily identifiable addresses. Many of the ground floors in the front buildings are reserved for retail stores and restaurants. The generous apartments on the floor above usually feature balconies overlooking the street and reflect the needs and prestige aspirations of the original uppermiddle-class residents. The floors are staggered in ceiling height according to the social status of their residents, from the bel étage on the second floor to the lower ceiling heights on the fifth or sixth floors, which were reserved for the simplest and most inexpensive apartments. These apartments from the Gründerzeit continue to be popular for couples and families, owing to their size, ceiling height, and flexibility; they are also well suited for use as office spaces. In the past, the buildings to the rear and in the courtyards used to feature a mix of simple, inexpensive apartments and workshops, and were sometimes characterized by great density within the core of the blocks. Today these dense structures have been thinned out and have become popular residential units with access to green courtyards: their location in the courtyards shields them from the noise of the street. In terms of plans developed on the drawing board on the basis of a street grid, the Gründerzeit districts display what is no doubt one of the most flexible urban structures, readily adaptable to changing requirements and able to assume an entirely different character depending on the demographic shifts in the local population.

3. Commercial

Centers20

The commercial centers form the third subgroup. In principle, they are based on the same urban block-edge developments as the residential

19 The following perimeters are part of this subgroup: Tumblingerstraße in Munich, Hasnerstraße and Focky­gasse, both in Vienna, Raabestraße in Berlin, Pariser Platz in Munich, Kanzleistraße in Zurich, Christburger Straße and Bonner Straße, both in Berlin, and Hahngasse in Vienna.

20 The following perimeters belong to this subgroup: Friedrichstraße in Berlin, Schwanthalerstraße in Munich, and Bahnhofstraße in Zurich.

182

Conclusions

districts from the Gründerzeit; however, the focus in the use of these districts shifts toward trade, commerce, and offices. Instead of commercial uses being confined to the ground floor, entire buildings or even blocks are devoted to business and commerce. Among all the perimeters analyzed for density, this subgroup is the only one where residential use is clearly in the background. For this reason, this subgroup features the highest building densities, where entire blocks are completely overbuilt and used for department store complexes, as in the Friedrichstraße in Berlin. The public is focused on consumption and flocks to the district from many areas of the city. One problem in these areas is the lack of life outside of business hours. Although there is usually a legislated requirement of providing a minimum of 20 percent housing units, a residential atmosphere rarely develops. After closing time these districts tend to be deserted due to a lack of smaller structures and the high rents in the city center, which are usually only affordable for affluent clients and high-end businesses. Hierarchies!

“Mr. Böhm even took the trouble to apply for a street café license … so there’s gonna be live music every now and then …” “What, music too?” In Gerhard Polt’s piece “The Bohemian,” Mrs. Kerzl, who owns apartments in Neuperlach, dreams of a cultural life in the streets of the satellite city. But the structures and facilities are often lacking. A street café license cannot guarantee cultural life, especially if the local residents dislike spending time in the windswept open space. There is an absence of organization in the exterior space, which would encourage adequate use of the site. This applies to movement through the street spaces as well as to spending time in the public squares or parks.

Density and its Urban Forms

Density Categories 1, 2 Density factors up to 0.6

Single-Family House Idyll

— Intimate Community Estates — Integrated Garden Cities

Density Categories 3, 4, 5 Density factors from 0.6 to 1.5

City Apartments in a Green Setting

— Landscaped Housing Estates — Open Block-Edge Structures

Density Categories 6, 7, 8, 9 Density factors over 1.5

Inner City Mixture

— Old Town Cores — Gründerzeit Districts — Commercial Centers

— Detached Linear Blocks — Large-Scale Housing Estates

183 In all density categories, the districts that offer the most agreeable atmosphere, the best quality of life, and the highest degree of popularity, are those that respond specifically to the composition of the resident population by offering a detailed hierarchy of urban structures in the public space and in the transition to the private space, all with a specific building density and utilization of these factors as the basis for designing the urban plan. Tailored divisions of private homes and gardens, sidewalks and roads, and green spaces can all respond to the profile of the local residents. Hierarchical divisions of the public space as a communal space are all the more important in an age where the personal sphere of the various demographics is increasingly leveling off and where interior and exterior spaces are increasingly separated. 21 It is important to note that “hierarchy” does not describe an autho­ri­­tarian top and bottom in the sense of a social ranking. Rather the meaning ascribed to it is of an ordered coexistence of different members of a society within the urban space, whose exterior spaces are weighted differently depending on building and social density. Delimitations between private and public areas — the width of a sidewalk, different surface treatments for sidewalks and streets, a greenstrip, rows of trees, lighting, and many other features — reflect the social configuration by virtue of their arrangement, scale, and quality, and express the lifestyle of the residents in the atmosphere of the exterior spaces. The defining element in the public space is not the public square or the park, but the street.

­ Private and Public Space22 The treatment of the relationship between private and public space is the basis for establishing this hierarchical order. In the first group (density factors below 0.6) of the density categories 1 to 3, the private exterior space dominates. It is usually marked and protected by means of fences, hedges, and trees. The separation of yard and street is clearly defined in classic single-family-house neighborhoods. Row house settlements, such as the Reindlstraße perimeter in Munich or the Hochsitzweg in Berlin, are exceptions to this rule. In these pe­r­ imeters, small front yards create open transition zones, without fences, which characterize the street image. However, this is only possible because the true private yards remain protected behind the continuous house fronts, which form a closed barrier. When the rows are placed closer together and no longer distinguish between back yard and front yard, as is the case in the Pilotengasse in Vienna, the need for a separation between sidewalk and yard, and separation between the yards themselves, is once again more pronounced. In many cases the atmosphere of this lower density group suffers from the fact that the public space is neglected in favor of the private yard. Streets with strong organizational separation demonstrate that the public space can become a meeting place and enhance the communal atmosphere. In the Großbauerstraße in Vienna’s Schippergasse perimeter, for example, the paved sidewalks running parallel to garden fences are separated by wide greenstrips with boulevard trees from the paved road, thus creating an attractive public space beyond the boundaries of the individual properties. The perimeters in the middle density group (with density factors from 0.6 to 1.5) reveal the least clarity with regard to hierarchical organi­ zation. This is especially true for the landscaped ribbon developments from the 1950s and the large complexes in the satellite cities, where the boundary between public and private space is blurred. It is often

Density and Atmosphere

21 Thus many windows in new buildings are no longer opened or are even sealed because of controlled apartment venti­ lation and air-conditioning systems. The penetration of the public space through open windows into the building interiors, and vice versa, as well as the potential for communication between streetspace and interior residential space is thus increasingly being lost.

22 See chapter “Density, Atmosphere and Numbers”, section “Public and Private Exterior Space, Green Space”.

184

Conclusions

unclear who may access and use these green spaces and paths. A large number of signs indicating regulations and prohibitions bears witness to the lack of clarity surrounding these semi-public spaces. The consequence is that no one feels responsible for these green areas, intended to be a “green paradise” for the local residents: neither the property owner or property administrator, nor the public (even though the private owners and administration authorities, who install these signs, are clearly responsible for these areas, and the uncertainty lies more with the residents and users). However, as soon as clear boundaries are established between the public and private areas, for example, with the help of fences, hedges, walls, or even setbacks or level changes, even these types of perimeters can be intensively maintained and used if the property owners are committed to investing the necessary effort. There is a cost for doing so; the result is gated communities, which develop into rigorously protected and controlled private spheres that exclude the wider city community. Open block-edge structures, on the other hand, create exterior spaces that are far more clearly structured and defined, allocating a space to each member of the community and, ideally, equally assigning responsibility for the space to those members. In order to make these allocations practical, the lot sizes should be shared among a reasonable number of parties. Small parcels, such as those in the Larochegasse perimeter in Vienna or the Scheuchzerstraße in Zurich, function much better than those where a similar structure is retroactively imposed on large parcels, such as, for example, the Konrad-Dreher-Straße pe­ rim­eter in Munich and the Ringofenweg in Vienna. For if the yards are assigned to individual buildings and clearly separated from the street space, they are tended accordingly and contribute to the calm, green atmosphere of the street as individually designed exterior spaces. At the same time, it is important to strengthen the street space with corre­­­ spond­­ing divisions. Thus the separation of street and sidewalk through green­strips and trees transforms the street itself into a public green space. The closed development on the Holbeinstraße perimeter in Munich singles this area out as a transition to the third density group. Narrow front yards keep the passers-by at a distance and also serve as private patios for ground-floor units. While private and public exterior space is roughly equal in the middle density group, well structured exterior space assumes greater im­ portance in the highest density group (with density factors of 1.5 and more). The series of clearly delimited spaces from private courtyard, to house with perhaps a small front yard, to sidewalk, which may or may not feature greenstrips and trees, to parking lane and traffic lane, facilitates life in this dense inner-city mix. The higher the density category, the greater the degree to which the public space penetrates into the home and courtyard in the form of shops, restaurants, and cultural facilities. At the same time, private elements such as balconies project into the street space. 23 This kind of integration and meshing of private and public space is essential in this density group in order to enable communication among residents. And it is therefore all the more important to create clear separation between private and public spheres.

 Green Space and Architecture With the exception of a few areas in the highest density group, green space plays an important role in the urban planning of all the pe­ rimeters analyzed in this study. The differentiation between public and private green space, as well as its relationship to the built fabric in

23 See the sections “Balconies!” and “Ground Floors!” in the next chapter “The City as Living Space”.

185 each density category, has a significant influence on the atmosphere in each district. In the first density group (with density factors below 0.6) there is a preponderance of private green space, which causes the architecture of the detached homes to recede into the background. The individualization of these gardens is all the more important. Recently, there is a trend toward low-maintenance gardens characterized by low plantings, such as simple ground cover, which makes hardly any contribution to the appearance of the public space. From an atmospheric perspective, this results in gaps or even wastelands along entire streets, since the individual detached homes fail to create a communal streetscape owing to the lack of prominent garden features. They also fail to protect the private spheres among neighbors. At the same time, it is reasonable to assume that the desired atmosphere for this population group is a quiet, undisturbed life in a green setting. Adding public green space to the streets in the lowest density categories is therefore increasingly important. Greenstrips, verges, and trees can create a strong structure and uniform height as quasi-architectural elements, once again relegating the heterogeneous buildings to the background and transforming the district into a cohesive whole through the public street space. The perimeters of the middle density group (with density factors from 0.6 to 1.5) seek to achieve a balance between green space and architecture. To this end, compact building masses are distributed across the green space in these housing developments. Green space and built fabric are inflated to a larger-than-life scale as a consequence. The large exterior spaces are out of synch with the human scale, as are the towering buildings, and this makes it difficult for the residents to establish a connection with them. In other words, social contacts in the public space are difficult to cultivate under these conditions and tend to focus on playgrounds, designed as small islands within this space, and a small network of footpaths. Often, however, there is hardly any social interaction in the open areas, as residents withdraw into the privacy of their apartments. Open block-edge developments, conversely, combine green space and architecture into a tightly knit network that is easy to structure and organize. In contrast to the semi-public spaces found in building rows or satellite cities, they seek to achieve a balance of clearly defined public and private green space. While the ratio of open, undeveloped area rises by roughly ten percent, the green spaces are more suitable for use owing to social integration and the smaller scale. In terms of the architecture, clearly delineated private yards are complemented by spacious balconies, allowing for a carefully calibrated intimacy scale in the exterior space. Although the yards are clearly separated from the public street and belong to individual buildings, they make a noticeable contribution to the green atmosphere in the street­ scape. Fence, hedges, or low walls identify the boundary between public and private ground, thus defining responsibilities and ensuring a shared use of the street space without conflict. This promotes positive synergies between public and private space. The focus in the relationship between green space and architecture in the public space only shifts towards the built fabric, which clearly dominates the streetscape, in the highest density group (with density factors of 1.5 and up). Nevertheless, the green space still influences important sections of the districts in most of these perimeters. Trees planted along the streets are significant, introducing an essential structuring element with architectural qualities

Density and Atmosphere

186

Conclusions

in the street space. The sequence of tree trunks resembles a colon­n­ade, with the tree canopies serving as an entablature. From a perspective at right angles to the street, the gaps between the tree trunks frame the view between the street and the ground floors of the buildings, many of which contain public or commercial uses in this density category. The canopies above grow into a dense cover that protects the intimacy in the private apartments on the upper floors. These apartments can, in turn, contribute to the greenery in the street space. Balcony plantings complement the walls of the street space and create private vertical gardens.

­ Traffic and Tranquility

The street is the public space where the community in a district and a city comes together, meets, and moves through a shared space. For the street to assume this social role, it must be able to absorb and reflect the social mix of a district. It is therefore essential to organize as many types of traffic flow as possible in parallel along the street, and to provide each address with as much direct access to public transportation as possible. The street can then serve as a distinctive structural element for the public space in its interplay with the adjacent buildings, promoting communication and use of the space as a meeting place. To avoid conflicts between the needs of the various road users, all users must be provided with clearly defined areas. In the first density group (with density factors below 0.6) the individual streetscapes occupy public space without any hierarchy. There is little traffic in quiet residential neighborhoods, and the difference in speed between pedestrians and vehicular traffic is negligible, so there is no need to separate these functions. 24 The streets between the gardens tend to be narrow and all residents use the same area. In garden cities, the task of the street is more complex. It is always divided into traffic lanes and sidewalk, as traffic flow is more significant here and pedestrians must be protected. 25 The street space is also a meeting place, where neighbors gather and children play. Parked cars usually create the separation, which can be problematic for visibility in the traffic lanes; alternatively, greenstrips are used, which offer add­ itional public green spaces and open up sightlines. Rows of trees can also contribute to structuring the space and offering protection. Middle density groups (with density factors from 0.6 to 1.5) are characterized by traffic conditions similar to those in the garden cities. But there are significant differences in how the traffic flows are organized in these two subgroups. In the landscaped settlements, pedestrians and drivers use clearly separated networks of paths and routes. This separation is based on the idea that pedestrians should be able to move freely and safely through a green environment that is also urban in atmosphere. At the same time, one of the stated goals of the 1960s and 1970s was to create car-friendly cities. The reality looks different: most pedestrian paths lead across semi-public private spaces and terminate in parking lots. The separation of pedestrian friendly and car friendly routes prevents any real integration with the continuum of the complex urban network of streets. In the open block-edge developments, on the other hand, all road users move along the space in parallel. The street can better fulfill its task as a public community space. Sidewalks and traffic lanes are separated by greenstrip and parked cars; moderate speed limits are usually enforced as well. 26 In this density group, pedestrians should have at least the same amount of available space as drivers. In the highest density group (with density factors of 1.5 and higher) the relationship shifts strongly in favor of pedestrians. The

24 Speed limits in the analyzed perimeters range from 10 km/h (walking pace) to 30 km/h. 25 In the perimeters analyzed for this dens­ity groups, the speed limit is usually set at 30 km/h.

26 Most analyzed perimeters have speed limits of 30 km/h.

187 greater the number of people living in close proximity and the smaller the ratio of unbuilt area in a district, the greater the importance of walkable public areas. Sidewalks play an important role in the Gründer­ zeit districts. They are often wider than the road and serve a variety of purposes. On the one hand, they are sidewalks for pedestrians; but they are also zones for restaurants and cafes, meeting places, and spaces where children play. This quality is reinforced by the use of different surface treatments for roads and sidewalks. 27 Thus the broad sidewalks are transformed into lively public spaces. In old towns, some streets have been closed to traffic, either because they are too narrow for cars, or for traffic-calming reasons. As a result, the old town is often perceived as an island in the greater urban area and more geared toward the needs of the tourist than those of the urban dweller. Broadly speaking, detailed hierarchies, which allocate portions of the public space to the various users, organize and strengthen the street in its role as a communal space. In residential areas, which constitute the majority of the perimeters analyzed in this book, a trend toward prioritizing pedestrian areas has been noticeable for some time. Cars are displaced in favor of public transportation, which also increases the importance of the pedestrian. Tranquility and walk­ ability have become desirable qualities in all density categories. And the bicycle, seen as perhaps the most flexible means of transportation for short distances, is becoming ever more popular and needs to be accommodated in the street space. “Look, now he’s cycling!”

The City as Residential Space Dwelling!

“And what’s he supposed to be doing?” “Living there!” It is no accident that Mrs. Kerzl chooses the bohemian as a symbolic figure to unmask the deficits of the latest urban plans at the

time; after all, bohemians are seen as the prototypical urbanites who thrive on the public amenities in their city environment. Life is not centered on the home, but on the streets, squares, and cafés of the city. And this exterior life is the creative incubator for their existence. Their lifestyle is not defined by the rhythm of the workday but by that of the flâneur, communicator, and networker. They are therefore urban dwellers par excellence. And these qualities are becoming increasingly important in our modern communications-based society with its decentralized work patterns and network integration. The public space could, and to­day already does in many cases, serve as an ideal place for the entire spectrum of living, from personal leisure time to working at computers.

“At the last owners’ meeting, we all agreed: something’s gotta change! . . . Culturally and atmospherically, too . . . you know what I mean . . . quality of life!” “But we just got the new dry cleaners to set up shop …”

Density and Atmosphere

27 The most common surface treatments are as follows: pedestrian paths and sidewalks with slabs or small paving stones; bicycle paths identified with differentiating colors; and streets with asphalt surfaces or coarse paving stones. The only city in this study where this differentiation does not occur is Zurich, where most (circulation) surfaces are covered in asphalt.

188

Conclusions

When relevant amenities are lacking, as in the satellite city Neuperlach, bohemians cannot dwell there in the kind of lifestyle they require. Although the individual apartments in the large buildings offer all the comforts one might desire, the public space on the exterior cannot meet their urban requirements for social interaction, entertainment, and comfort. And Mrs. Kerzl’s conclusion that the presence of a single bohemian could automatically fill these gaps is false, of course. On the contrary: all it does is cast a stark light on what is lacking. In his essay “Building, Dwelling, Thinking”, the philosopher Martin Heidegger establishes the fundamental principle that “to be human being means to be on the earth as a mortal. It means to dwell.”28 This existential interpretation of dwelling — living in a home, be it an apartment or a house — means that we must build structures and spaces in a manner that creates sites surrounding us that are a reflection of who we are. When this act of building is detached from the lifestyle and needs of the residents — which can easily occur in large planned developments where profit-driven efficiency and mass production, to name but one example, are the structural goals that supersede the func­tional, emotional, and social requirements of the residents — an ontological gap opens up between the built environment and the residents. The built fabric can no longer develop into a social dwelling place. This is especially true for public exterior space, because it is not occupied and shaped by individuals; rather it is there to provide a place that supports the social life of the majority of the local residents. More than the building interior, the exterior space is thus a reflection of what we understand society to be, effectively becoming the living room of our cities. If architects and urban planners are passionate about urbanity as a sense of living in the city, this grows out of the conviction that the urban environment is our future in terms of dwelling on this earth. And worldwide urbanization appears to confirm this notion. 29 Yet opinions are divided on the precise image of this urbanity. How do we wish to dwell when we have never before lived in such a densely settled world? The real housing issue is that mortals need to discover the nature of dwelling over and over again, they must learn how to dwell. 30 In other words, each generation in each society must embark on a quest for a form of dwelling that is valid for them. This form always arises from the correct relationship of building mass to open space, 31 an observation expressed as early as the 1930s in the Charter of Athens. Building density and atmosphere are closely related in the context of compact living in a small area. The specific dens­ ity with which these sections of the city are built over also determines the atmosphere we experience there. The bohemian is the figure who tests whether what we have learned actually functions or not, because his desire is to dwell in the urban space without intention. As a flâneur, his goal is urban dwelling per se. Rather than spreading atmosphere, he is the social mood bar­ometer of the atmosphere of a district and of an entire city. It is in this context that the previous section “The City as Social Space” represents an attempt to correlate the density categories of the city with specific social groups or mixes and their living requirements. For it is only when these groups are able to dwell within the city space and are interested in using it that a relaxed atmosphere, one that is compatible with the society and makes urban living possible

28 Martin Heidegger, “Building, Dwelling, Thinking” (1951), in: Poetry, Language, Thought (New York 1971), trans. Albert Hofstadter Retrieved from http://mysite. pratt.edu/~arch543p/readings/Heideg­ ger.html.

29 While nearly 70 percent of the world’s population was still living in rural areas in 1950, more than half of humanity lives in urban regions since 2007. According to the UN World Urbanization Prospects, this will rise from 2007 onward to over 60 percent by 2030 and then to over 70 percent by 2050. 30 Heidegger, see note 28.

31 Le Corbusier, The Athens Charter. (Grossman, New York 1973), trans. by Anthony Eardley, Observation 32.

189

Density and Atmosphere

in the first place, can develop. The liveablity of the public city space is therefore one of the principal criteria for the functioning of a district. This applies even to the lowest density group of the single-family house idyll. In a perimeter such as the Drakestraße in Berlin, individual shops and a markedly green, hierarchically designed streetscape create an atmosphere beyond the boundaries of one’s private property that promotes communication and interaction in front of house and garden in an environment where proximity and distance are balanced. This transforms the public space into a liveable space, exuding an urban atmosphere despite the low density and low building height. Intimate community settlements like Zurich’s Im Heimgärtli also present a lively and inhabited image. The public space is less important here because of the proximity of the gardens to the street. The atmosphere is suburban, and passers-by are subjected to intense scrutiny. Since the focus in the lowest density group is living in the private sphere, even a fully privatized perimeter such as the Pilotengasse in Vienna can exude a comfortable, homey atmosphere for the residents because of the proximity of the gardens. The main difference in comparison with the other districts is that the exterior spaces are only marginally linked to those of the city as a whole, which prevents a sense of living in the public urban space. In the middle density group of urban apartments in a green environment, the public exterior space is more important as a result of the

taller buildings and greater social density. The hybrid character of this group is revealed. The demand for private green space, coupled with the expectation of enjoying an urban lifestyle, often leads to misunderstanding in terms of planning and less than satisfactory results.

Landscape and garden are perhaps the ideal terms to use in describ-

ing the relationship between exterior space and living in the interior space in this middle density group. The exterior spaces of landscaped settlements such as Senftenberger Ring in Berlin or Prinzengasse in Vienna are plagued by the fact that landscape cannot be a designed, urban green space; instead, the “landscape” in these districts was created to approximate nature as closely as possible. The large green spaces are neither truly accessible to the public nor purely private territory. In and of themselves, landscapes do not represent dwelling places for people; they are only made habitable here and there with the help of street furniture and zoning.

A garden, on the other hand, is an individually cultivated and designed piece of land with a clearly private allocation to a person, family, or group, and serves as their outdoor living space by definition. Gardens are therefore easily integrated into the hierarchy of private and public spaces of a city. 32 Open block-edge developments such as the Scheuch­zerstraße in Zurich or the Larochegasse in Vienna with their enclosed private gardens therefore also offer good liveability on the public street space. The buildings take on a more prominent role in the exterior space and define it much more than the single-family homes do in the lowest density category. Moderate in height, the buildings establish a good relationship between the apartments and the garden and the street, which effectively becomes a living space shared by all. If one understands the streets as a fluid spatial continuum of the city as a living space, then small parks and squares can represent the completion of the rooms in this living space, as counterparts to the private gardens — oases of tranquility in the network of streets.

32 For in-depth analysis on the relationship between green space and the city, see the section “Green!”

190

Conclusions

This interpretation of the public urban space as living space is most evident in the third and highest density category of the inner-city mix . In this category, streetscapes, public squares, and green spaces are for the most part enclosed, surrounded by walls. This invests them with the character of interior spaces within the fabric of the city. Although the public green space is less dominant than in the lower and middle density groups, it can nevertheless contribute considerably to a sense of well-being in the urban atmosphere. Cultivated and manicured rows of trees along the streets, public squares with plantings, and verdant parks are, in a manner of speaking, the potted plants and flower bouquets of the city as living space. Street furniture ensures that these spaces can serve as gathering places for many different population groups. Social meeting places such as small local shops, cafés, cinemas, or theaters, are especially important. Old town centers and Gründer­ zeit districts no doubt offer the most liveable urban atmospheres in the public space because of the intense mix in terms of scale and use. The generous streetscapes dating back to the Gründerzeit are notable for the variety of uses they invite. Depending on their needs, local residents can set up café patios or simply set out a chair on the wide sidewalks and participate in the life in the street, while parents pushing strollers stop for a chat, or ice cream vendors set up their carts at the corner. And last but not least, the sidewalk serves as a multifunctional zone for pedestrians, who can move along the space in leisure and safety. The only areas where the equilibrium of this mix is threatened are the commercial centers. Trade and services dominate to such a degree that interior and exterior spaces often become no more than circulation areas, spaces to pass through rather than gathering places. However, even in this case, there are design strategies that can bring life into the district. Cultural institutions and the public spaces associated with them can make a valuable contribution to the usability and recreational quality of the area. The Friedrichstraße perimeter in Berlin, for example, lies directly adjacent to the Schauspielhaus (now a concert hall) and the Gendarmenmarkt, which justly deserves to be described as one of Berlin’s most distinctive public living spaces and provides a public meeting place for the district and the entire city. On the Bahnhofstraße in Zurich, rows of trees, green spaces, and public benches are designed to act in a similarly stimulating fashion.

Balconies play an important role in integrating the built environment

in this density group, especially in the residential districts, creating a close link between the walls of the buildings and the surrounding public space. As small private exterior living spaces, they allow residents to step into the street space without leaving their private apartments. The street space can thus become a vertical living space across the entire height of the buildings. 33 Balconies!

“Mr. Faltermeier, come quickly. Look, there he is! You can just about see him from here . . . ” “Let me see . . . show me where . . . ” “There! Down there with the plastic bag!”

33 For additional details see the following section “Balconies!”

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Density and Atmosphere

In Gerhard Polt’s satirical piece, Mrs. Kerzl summons the superintendant Faltermeier to her balcony: she is excited because she has just caught a glimpse of the bohemian she moved into the district in the space in front of her building. The two characters are seen stepping through the thick drapes out onto the balcony. And because Mrs. Kerzl’s balcony is located on the second floor, she is able to draw a neighbor’s attention to the new attraction as well:

“Hi there, Mrs. Böhlow! Look!“ Stepping outside of one’s own four walls into the public communal

space of the street is an important act of communication between individual and society. In this sense, balconies are vital intersections between the public domain and the private domain, between apartment and street. The shape of these intersections is closely linked to the individual community and the corresponding built density.

From density category 3 onward, apartments are dominant in the housing structure of all the districts. In other words: in districts with density factors of 0.6 and up, this private exterior space begins to play an important role as a mediating space. In the middle density group (with density factors from 0.6 to 1.5), the balcony is a ubiquitous facade element. But that does not mean that it is always able to fulfill its function as a communication element. The fundamental challenge lies in the changed requirements for balconies since the onset of modernism in architecture. Whereas these requirements were founded in social aspects (orientation towards the street or a square) in traditional architecture up to the Gründerzeit, the balcony then became a private spot in the sun in subsequent years. From the 1920s to this day, balconies are placed in accordance with the position of the sun and not in response to the street, especially in the middle density group. The Siemensstadt settlement in the Goebelstraße,34 an archetype of a modern housing development in Berlin, illustrates the changes this brings to the public streetscape. Because of its orientation to the north, Otto Bartning’s elongated building presents an uninviting and smooth rear wall to the street. Berliners soon dubbed it the “Langer Jammer” (roughly “long sorrow”) with good reason. All the balconies lie on the south side, overlooking a private green space. A similar phenomenon is found in the ribbon development that runs perpendicular to the Goebelstraße. Since the evening hours were defined as the time of day for leisure and relaxation, all the balconies face west towards the setting sun. The effect is that each facade with balconies overlooks the smooth, sealed facade of the building on the opposite side. The balcony is thus transformed into an exterior living space focused on private interests without any mediating function. This disadvantage is even more evident in the large housing estates of the 1970s. Vertical density, in these plans, was associated with the idea of providing each resident with the best possible access to green space with light, air, and sunshine. Consequently, the balconies were once again rigorously placed on the facade oriented to the sun, presenting a bleak rear facade to the buildings on the opposite side. As the height of buildings increases, the problem of balconies overlooking unattractive rear elevations is made worse by the circumstance that any direct contact with life in the street or in the surrounding green space is no longer possible from the fourth or at most the sixth floor upward. If Mrs. Kerzl had lived at such a height, she could not have called out to Mrs. Böhlow down below on the

34 See density category 4.

192

Conclusions

Berlin, Hochsitzweg und Raabestraße Munich, Waldstraße; Berlin, Goebelstraße

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Density and Atmosphere

Vienna, Fockygasse; Zurich, Altwiesenstraße Zurich, Bahnhofstraße; Vienna, Wollzeile

194

Conclusions

square in front of the building to draw her neighbor’s attention to the spectacle of the bohemian.

Recent housing developments such as the cube-shaped buildings

in Zurich’s Bändliweg perimeter35 seek to utilize all three sunlight directions — east, south, and west — for private balconies whenever possible. Communication with the street space is barely taken into consideration. Installing balconies on more than one building orientation is an attempt to avoid the kind of monotony that mars the image of Berlin’s Siemensstadt. Strictly speaking, these are not cantilevered balconies, but loggias. The distinction is important, for loggias remain rooms within the building volume; therefore they do not allow one to step out into the exterior space and cannot be integrated with the exterior space. This emphasizes the separation of the private and public spheres, thus neglecting social as well as communicative aspects. Settlements such as the perimeters on Larochegasse in Vienna, Holbeinstraße in Munich, and Scheuchzerstraße in Zurich demonstrate that balconies are sometimes also designed with social goals in mind in the middle density group. Balconies, and oriels as the enclosed variation of balconies, are part of the streetscape and very much oriented towards it. They are popular, much used, and often adorned with plants, acting as vertical continuations of small private gardens at ground level. Low traffic volumes in these perimeters also translate into a relatively high level of privacy, which is extended into the street space. In this way, the balconies are testimony to the residents’ re­ lationship with the exterior space and contribute in no small measure to the character of the individual buildings, which together form the community of the district. Communication from street to balcony is possible throughout and invests the area with a lively and strong residential atmosphere despite the quiet streets. In the highest density groups (with density factors higher than 1.5), the balcony becomes an essential interface between public space and private apartment. The closed architectural line of the street space demands integration with the buildings to make communication possible in the first place. Only then can the urban space become an urban living space across the full height of the developed area. Once again, a fine balance between proximity and distance is key. The blockedge developments of the Gründerzeit reveal a clear hierarchy in this regard. On the street elevations, ornamented facades were equipped with decorative balconies that were rarely allowed to project more than a meter into the street space. This depth imposes a disciplined use of this private exterior space, because it does not offer enough space for any more domestic furnishings. This privilege is reserved for the rooms overlooking the interior of these blocks, which offer privacy as well as orientation toward the street. As to the less prestigious courtyards to the rear, balconies, if they were provided at all, were usually small kitchen balconies for growing herbs in pots, storing malodorous waste, or hanging laundry out to dry. Today the focus in these districts is to create an alliance between the old hierarchies and the new requirements. Many of the small, old kitchen balconies are being replaced with large balconies with depths of more than 2 meters. These new balconies can truly serve as exterior living spaces and be used in a more casual manner, as they lie far from the noise of life in the street, sheltered within the tranquility of the courtyards. They can even promote neighborly closeness. The smaller balcony overlooking the street, on the other hand, retains its

35 See density category 6.

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Density and Atmosphere

original character and functions as a box looking out onto the theater of public life in the street.

Generally speaking , one can note that balconies (or solariums) are

private exterior living spaces that project into the public space and render the entire height of the street space habitable. Where there are no balconies (and no corresponding ground-floor uses36), the river of life tends to flow past the buildings, slipping past them without finding any anchorage or possibilities for communication. The street space then runs the risk of degenerating into a traffic artery, pure and simple.

36 See the next section “Ground Floors!”

Ground Floors!

“We’re even gonna have art openings every three months . . . down there, in Mr. Böhm’s café.” Meanwhile, in Gerhard Polt’s satire, Mrs. Kerzl has already bought two canvases from the bohemian and now wants to organize exhibitions in the café on the ground floor of her building. This is yet another initiative to improve communication in the large housing estate and to improve the quality of life in the publicly shared space. However, the success of this approach always depends on the local public. In the large housing estates of the 1970s, in particular, where functions were strictly separated, there was little in the way of foot traffic to be drawn into public events in facilities at street level, that is, on the ground floor. After years of marginalization of the ground floor, these days more value is placed on designing this part of the building, and especially on reserving it for uses that are freely accessible to all. If ground floors are to fulfill their enlivening function in a district, what is needed once again is a customized adaptation to the needs and interests of the target public in each density category and site. The ground floor is the site where the passer-by can establish contact with the housing at eye-level. Opportunities for exchange are even more immediate here than at the balcony level. This can involve distance (for example, through fences and gardens), depending on the building density and social mix of the district, or it can involve proximity, even to the extent of a complete merging of public space with the building (for example, in the case of public uses such as retail stores and restaur­ants on the ground floor). In lower density groups (with density factors below 0.6), distance is preferred. It could be said that the garden is the ground floor of these districts. Fences, hedges, and bushes protect the private sphere of the residents. Communication occurs across the fence or the hedge. Still, individual shops, restaurants, or local cafes can serve as meeting places that stimulate the social atmosphere. The Reindlstraße perimeter in Munich37 presents a wide variety of different amenities at the ground floor level. In the narrow streets of the district, small and slightly raised front gardens keep the passerby at a distance from the apartments on the ground floors and the elevated plinth stories of the uniformly identical row houses. Although they add some green space to the streetscape, the small gardens can only compensate for the petit bourgeois dreariness of the uniform facade to a limited degree. The restaurant with a beer-garden functions

37 See density category 2.

196 well as a social gathering place and oasis, a function that is enhanced by its location across from the church and the playground to the south. But the single-story row of shops running along the north side of Inderstorferstraße are hardly accessible to clientele on foot because they are not connected to a continuum of other ground-floor amenities and so they see little pedestrian traffic. The situation is quite different on Drakestraße in Berlin38 where the integration of a series of shops and restaurants — all grouped around widened street intersections — creates a loose chain of public ground-floor uses. In the side streets, the atmosphere is one of in­ timate living, characterized by gardens and detached homes set back from the street. In the middle density group (with density factors from 0.6 to 1.5), contact with the public space increases in importance. In this group there are entirely different concepts for ground floor uses. In the large housing estates of the 1970s, the public uses were gathered in shopping and cultural centers. This left the remaining infrastructure of the settlements reserved entirely for residential use, despite the relatively high density. The ground floors were raised to protect the private sphere from the semi-public exterior space, but the plinths are rather uninviting in appearance. Other housing estates tried to integrate retail strips into the residential areas on a smaller scale. As the example on Reindlstraße in Munich demonstrates, these only function when they are integrated with other public uses or are combined to form small local centers, as in the perimeters on Konrad-Dreher-Straße in Munich39 and Ringofenweg in Vienna. 40 Most of the districts in this density group, like those in the group with the lowest density, create distance from the public (street-)space by means of large green areas. Less densely developed perimeters like the Tumblingerstraße 41 in Munich show that this distance created by front yards can also be used as a multifunctional zone. In the Schmellerstraße, which is located within this perimeter, a front yard can serve as a private garden, a furnished restaurant garden, or a forecourt to a store or café patio — all depending upon the type of building. This flexibility with regard to how the space between the building and the street can be used is an excellent reflection of the residents’ needs in the middle density group. Urban neighborhood structures with small lots can respond well to a wide range of needs. This allows a mix of private and public uses, and hence the hoped-for characteristic for these urban apartments: a quiet dwelling in a green setting combined with a sense of city life and a transformation of the street into a public green living space. 42 In the high density group (with density factors of 1.5 and up), the ground floors of buildings developed as block-edge structures border directly onto the public street space with no buffer zone in front of the buildings. This has advantages and disadvantages. If the buildings are for residential use, they are usually designed with raised ground floors, or plinth stories, to provide privacy from pedestrians. This does not prevent residents from occasionally making the unwelcome discovery in the morning of the odd beer can on their windowsill. Ground floor apartments are therefore unpopular in the density categories with a factor of 1.5 and higher; these categories are more suitable for public and semi-public uses such as retail, restaurants, daycare centers, and the like. Such places benefit from the immediate accessibility, and they expand the public living space of the street into the buildings.

Conclusions

38 See density category 2.

39 See density category 4. 40 See density category 5.

41 With a density factor of 1.78 the Tumblingerstraße perimeter in Munich is already part of the highest density group. But the loose development structure and verdant streetscape are comparable to districts in the middle density groups.

42 Suggestions of this type of mix by means of multifunctional front garden zones are already evident in the perimeters on Larochegasse in Vienna (density category 3) and Holbeinstraße in Munich (density category 5).

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Density and Atmosphere

The ground floors in the high density categories thus become a part of the street. Green!

“Well, then he could help me out a bit, trimming hedges or thinning out the ground cover.” “Mr. Faltermeier, the man is a bohemian, he won’t lift a finger!” The term “ground cover” is synonymous with the claims housing estates like Neuperlach make about their relationship with nature, and with their ambivalence about it. Literally, ground cover means evergreen, low-growing plants that are easy to maintain, that are able to cover large areas and prevent the growth of weeds. Unlike a lawn, for example, areas with ground cover are not suitable for walking on nor for use as recreational areas. And in contrast to meadows or lawns, they only need to be trimmed once or twice a year. But the bohemian would have little interest in making even this minimal effort. As a city flâneur he is used to enjoying the amenities the city center has to offer without participating in their maintenance, especially if they do not contribute to his enjoyment in any significant way. After all, many ground cover plants are employed as monoculture and not particularly appealing, such as the creeping cotoneaster. And yet these landscaped settlements were created to offer the joys of urban dwelling in a verdant environment. Martin Heidegger writes: “Building as dwelling unfolds into the building that cultivates growing things and the building that erects edifices.” 43 According to Heidegger, building is therefore dwelling on earth. His meaning is as follows: in addition to erecting buildings, cultivating plants and crops for nourishment or simply for the aesthetic adornment of the environment is a fundamental aspect of dwelling. In this sense, to build also means to cultivate and maintain the soil. Buildings are thus closely linked to the exterior space that surrounds them. Both bear witness to humanity dwelling on earth. The fact that they do not give him any particular enjoyment is not the only reason why the bohemian does not wish to participate in the maintenance and care of hedges and ground cover. Simply put, he does not feel responsible. Exterior space, to his mind, is public space; naturally, therefore, this means that the public sector — read government  — is responsible rather than he. It would never occur to him to mow the lawn in a public park. But the seemingly public space in Neu­ perlach is not really public property. It is private property and is therefore commonly referred to as “semi-public.” In other words: misunderstanding is inevitable. In any case, green space is one of the most important factors contributing to the atmosphere of exterior urban space. And since urban green space is cultivated nature, its impact is in turn largely dependent on maintenance. Green space plays an important role in nearly all of the urban perimeters explored in this book. Depending on the degree of building density, the focus is on either private or public green space. The sense of identification and responsibility is strengthened when the green

43 Heidegger, see note 32.

198 space is clearly allocated to individual buildings and residents, on the one hand, and municipal bodies on the other, and the care and maintenance of gardens, trees, green strips, squares, and parks is all the better for it. In the inner city, green space also plays a key role as natural climate control. When building walls heat up in summer and temperatures soar, especially in the higher density categories, trees provide shade and coolness, and their foliage filters the pollutants such as exhaust gases from the air. In winter, deciduous trees shed their leaves and allow the sunlight to penetrate deeply into the street space. The green elements thus adapt dynamically to all seasons. At the same time, they introduce a natural scale to the street space, which gives people in the space a sense of how they fit into the scale and a sense of place. The height of a tree, for example, is in direct relation to the height of the adjacent building and the residents within that dwelling. And it renders the change of seasons visible for city dwellers. Urban green spaces thus create a direct connection with the surrounding land­ scape and nature as a whole. The street is an artery along which nature, in cultivated form, can dovetail with the city. There is much talk today of “green cities” and “green buildings,” often in a quest to find new forms of architecture and even cities. 44 However, when the public street space is once again fundamentally understood and enhanced as a site for the greening of the city, this network of streets in all its multiplicity is once again more efficient and flexible than any technologically optimized building solution.

Conclusions

44 In contemporary architecture there is a trend to develop forms where green is integrated into private buildings through large terraces, projections, facade greening or loggias. At the urban level, there are experiments to develop new versions of the Garden City idea; how­ever, these cannot respond to the complexity of an urban construct in its entirety.

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Density and Atmosphere

The City as Living Space Individuality and Continuity

“We’ve got plenty of big city here . . . but what about flair! Savoir vivre!” “Who?” With respect to the Marx-Zentrum in Munich — the view Gerhard Polt’s superintendent Faltermeier and property owner Mrs. Kerzl are gazing at from the balcony — one is tempted to counter the latter’s declaration with a question: what big city? And what flair (or, what type of atmosphere)? And what is the lifestyle that fits with it all? Mr. Faltermeier is quite right to ask: Who? Perhaps he means: For whom? The satellite city is determined to project the image of a new city concept cast from a single mould by means of differentiated spatial and architectural divisions. But its residents have trouble seeing themselves reflected in that image. Urban atmosphere as an interplay of social and esthetic harmony cannot take hold because there is a lack of concrete connections between the people and the architecture. Hardly anyone knows just how to live here. Did someone say savoir vivre? Even if forms that are conducive to harmonious atmospheres can be found in all density categories, as the analysis of the 36 perimeters in this book has shown is the case, the question remains: how can a city as a whole evolve from all these varying densities? A city can only be identified as such if it creates a strong continuum of its structures, resulting in cohesion and identity. Most Central European cities, which are the focus of this book, are plagued these days by a loss of this continuum in the urban fabric. In response to this situation, many of the urban planners and architects who partici­ pate in current debates on the correct degree of density are looking for ways to strengthen the boundaries of the city and to bring the structure s within it closer together and unify them through densification. A minority among them advocate for the opposite approach, namely, dissolving the traditional idea of the city in favor of a vision of the city as a region, in the sense of an amorphous settlement structure (Zwischenstadt or lit. “in-between city”), 45 a vision that attempts to see urban sprawl as containing an opportunity for a new kind of urban planning. However neither approach can operate without the concept of the city as a place of community. As a political unit, the city’s role is to enable and organize a peaceful social coexistence.

In this work, different degrees of density have been found to correlate to different social groups and mixed social environments; the needs and expectations of these groups vis-à-vis their surroundings are taken to be the basis for how these are shaped and designed. 46 Of necessity, this approach must operate with certain assumptions or experiential values — especially in the planning of new districts — and thus always runs the risk of falling into the trap of idealizing a typical population profile and their related expectations. Still, it is useful to take the notion of social togetherness as the basis for planning processes, for uncomfortable atmospheres loaded with tension tend to arise primarily in areas where there is a large gap between

45 Thomas Sieverts, Zwischenstadt: zwischen Ort und Welt, Zeit und Raum, Stadt und Land (Gütersloh and Berlin, 1997). According to Sieverts the areas between traditional cities, which are today described as agglomeration or urban sprawl, are neither city nor coun­try but a new category of settlement, which he calls the “in-between city.”

46 See the section “The City as Social Space.”

200 expectations and reality. Once the atmospheric ambience has been successfully created in the various density groups defined in this book47 and an urban and architectural form befitting all their different demands has been found, the next question is how these individual solutions will combine into a continuum that will meld the districts into a city. This is where public space comes into play. It alone cannot connect the different public and private sections of a district and a city into a harmonious whole. The community space is available to all and shared by all. In the fulfillment of this function, public space can create the continuum of the city and, moreover, prepare the ground for specific atmospheres in the individual districts, even though it cannot guarantee that they will develop. Public space can thus set the tone for the atmosphere of a whole city. The Street as Meeting Place When public space is the topic of discussion, it is often thought of as areas designated for recreation. Much attention is focused on town squares, parks, playgrounds and sports fields, and these areas also attract prestigious investments from private parties. By far the largest area of public space is covered by streets, although their principal role is to serve as traffic arteries. In areas where they are to fulfill the function of a meeting place, traffic-calming measures are usually taken, or the streets are restricted to local traffic only or even privatized. And yet the street is the only public space that can ensure the continuum of the city. As a circulation space, it is at the same time also the largest place for movement and public gatherings. Most people meet in the street. Only the street can gather all citizens in one and the same space. Pedestrians, cyclists, drivers, and patrons of public transportation share the same space, thus representing the broadest range of public life. It is therefore important to route the many different traffic streams in parallel along a shared street. Depending on the district and the local flow of traffic, different groups may receive preferential treatment. Currently there is a clear trend to favor pedestrians and cyclists. Only a few of the perimeters analyzed here are equipped with parks or park-like areas, and most are primarily residential in nature. The street is thus the largest and often the only public meeting place in the city. The Street as Catalyst for Atmosphere Since it is everywhere, the street is the space that determines the

character of a district in considerable measure. In an age of growing

individualization, which is also evident in the esthetics of individual buildings, the public street also assumes the function of acting as a catalyst for atmosphere. It should do more than merely provide access to individual properties and provide a space for complementary amenities; rather, the atmosphere in the district should be created by and in the street in order to ensure the atmospheric continuum of a city. One should therefore cease to understand the street

Conclusions

47 For details on the individual density groups see “To Each Society Its Density!”

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Density and Atmosphere

as a secondary spatial element, with its atmosphere derived from the adjacent private homes and green spaces, but instead see it as an active element that is the public projection and reflection of the local district and its community. The street is always the first consideration when a plan is drawn up. Its layout can anticipate the atmosphere in a new district even before any buildings are erected. The importance of defining, as closely as possible, in the early planning phase what kind of atmosphere should greet the future residents and passers-by in the future development cannot be overstated. The following factors play a role in the deliberate creation of a specific street atmosphere:  —  its width in relation to the height of the built development  —  a closed or an open arrangement of the adjacent buildings  —  the distance of the buildings to the street  —  the orientation of the buildings to the street  —  the ratio of private to public green space  —  the type of street greening (or absence thereof),  —  the area distribution of sidewalk, green space, parking areas, and traffic  —  the materials used for the surfaces  —  the type of street furniture  —  the speed of local traffic and speed limits  —  the hierarchical division of the street into corresponding areas for pedestrians and for traffic  —  the hierarchical sequence of street layout, crossroads and squares across the various districts of the city as well as —  the connection of the street to neighboring districts. When a relationship is established between these factors, the street can be “fine-tuned” to a certain degree and the effect can transfer to the entire district. Therefore, a street in a single-family home district of the first density group can not only derive its effect from the atmosphere of the private gardens that line it, but can become a public image of those gardens. 48 On the one hand, this ensures that the intended verdant atmosphere in such a district is in fact realized, even if some of the gardens on the street are not designed to contribute to it. And, on the other hand, the individual expressions of the private green spaces are complemented by a unifying form of cultivated green space that is integrated with the entire city as a public space. 49 Streets in the middle density group also seek to establish a form that represents the expectations of a green setting combined with urban living. This group is distinguished by a balanced relationship between the presence of the buildings and the green spaces —  in particular the relationship between building and street. In landscaped settlements, the buildings are not oriented toward the street, but toward the directions of the compass and the green space. This is why they cannot form defined street spaces. In districts with open block-edge developments, on the other hand, the street elevations of the buildings create a relatively clear street space. Even when the buildings are detached within separate lots, the consistent distance to the street creates a consistent sightline behind the front yards, which also contributes to the green atmosphere of a

48 The intimate community settlements are an exception since they thrive due to the participation of all residents. It is for this reason that these districts feature relatively narrow streets without sidewalks. In these districts, the streets do not play a role as a public space and rely upon the effect of the verdant gardens. 49 Examples of this type of street design are found in the Großbauerstraße in the Viennese perimeter of Schipper­gasse with its trees and green strips or in the tree-lined boulevards in Drakestraße perimeter in Berlin.

202

Conclusions

street. The public street is clearly separated from the private gardens, divided into hierarchies and planted with greenery. In the third and highest density group, closed block-edge developments constitute — architecturally speaking — the walls of the street space. The buildings rise directly from the edge of the street; instead of a front yard as interstitial space or transition zone, the communal public space penetrates the ground floor areas. The result is an intermeshing of the pedestrian area of the hierarchically divided street with the interior of the buildings. 50 Whenever possible, the streets in these districts are adorned with greenery. Where this is not the case, the facades must create the atmospheric effect, which requires relevant guidelines with regard to facade design. Addresses If the street is to act as a connecting continuum, linking all density categories of the different districts of a city into a cohesive whole, then each resident should, ideally, have a direct connection to the street network along the shortest possible path. Even in the density categories of the lowest group, the street spaces that function best are those where the single-family homes are relatively close to the street and roughly equidistant from one another. This allows the buildings to have a spatial impact on the street. Given the modest dimensions of the individual lots, the path from street to front door is usually quite short. This relationship undergoes a fundamental shift in the landscaped settlements that comprise the middle density category. Here the buildings are embedded in large private green spaces. The path to the street leads through semi-private areas, which establish their own network of paths, usually providing access to several addresses or large housing complexes. It is often impossible to identify a single address from the public street. This, in turn, leads to a privatization of the building access paths, with the result that a portion of the network no longer runs across public ground and is thus not under the control of the city. The buildings are no longer directly connected to the network of the city. In contrast to these large lots, or parcels, which create an insular, privatized infrastructure, each house is directly connected with the public street space and thus integrated with the entire street in the districts that have open block-edge development. The lots and green areas are smaller and clearly private, the addresses are home to a smaller number of residents. Everyone is linked via the shortest path to the continuum of the city and can be represented in the public space by his or her private entrance. In the block-edge developments in Gründerzeit districts and commercial centers, both belonging to the highest density group, buildings tend to stand immediately adjacent to the street, with the result that house doors open directly onto public space. The area set aside for pedestrians within the hierarchical division of the streets is all the more important here. Once again, it is advantageous when individual addresses are shared by a limited number of parties. Buildings with commercial uses or restaurants are exceptions: here, there are usually two addresses, one for the business and the other for the residents on the upper floors. The exterior space on public land in front of the

50 On the upper floors, this integration occurs through the private balconies, which project into the public street space. See “Balconies!” in “The City as Social Space”.

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Density and Atmosphere

buildings is vital, for selling goods or sitting on a public patio. The private address penetrates into the public space. When every resident enjoys direct access to the public street space, what emerges is not only a spatial but a social continuum in the city, which is shared by everyone. This prevents the formation for ghettoes or “gated communities” — the streets belong to the communal living space. City and Landscape —  A Plea for Integration and Soft Transitions The relationship between built environment and natural environment has been a central theme of modern urban planning since its very beginnings. All seminal urban planning theories of the past 150 years have explored the relationship between the city and the landscape. Ebenezer Howard’s vision of the Garden City from 1898 sought to establish a new urban concept in response to the rampant industrialization of city and landscape and the population explosion. His vision was based on integrating nature, cultivated acreage, industry, and residential development into a system arranged in concentric layers. Instead of a densely developed city center, the garden city was laid out around a public park. In a further development, the Charter of Athens sought to maximize the area reserved for untouched nature by concentrating the building masses in high-rises with a view to providing all residents with a healthy lifestyle in a green setting. However, this could only have functioned if the land had belonged not to individual owners but to the community, which would have been responsible for its care and maintenance. The desire to unify architecture and nature has continued unabated, spurred on by the ecology movement since the late 1970s and the current debate on sustainability. “Green architecture,” it is hoped, will improve our quality of life, both in terms of energy (consumption) and in terms of atmosphere. Today, many urban planners and city dwellers bemoan the unchecked expansion of cities into the surrounding landscape. Critics speak of excessive “land consumption” and how to counteract it through densification, once again giving shape and clear boundaries to the city, which has dissolved into disconnected parts. Urban planners demand high densities, the higher the better. The motto for breathing a positive sense of living into this urban from is “Urbanity through Density,” in contrast to the openness of the landscape. However, the analyses in this book demonstrate that the variety of all the density categories is most compatible with the plurality of our society. Instead of thinking in dualities such as “good inner city” and “evil periphery,” or “nasty development” and “good nature,” we should aim to create and appreciate soft transitions. Incidentally, wildlife has been ignoring this separation into city and nature for some time and has conquered the city as a new habitat. In Berlin alone there are 53 species of mammals and 180 bird species, 51 more than in most areas of the cultivated landscape that surrounds the city. Low and middle densities play an important role, because they offer a multiplicity of living environments that make possible a harmonious coexistence of humanity and nature.

51 Data provided by the Senate Administration of the City of Berlin, status 2014.

204

Conclusions

Berlin, Raabestraße; Zurich, Kanzleistraße Berlin, Friedrichstraße; Munich, Im Tal

205

Density and Atmosphere

Munich, Tumblingerstraße; Berlin, Friedrichstraße Berlin, Friedrichstraße; Vienna, Wollzeile

206

Conclusions

When we look upon at the city as a political, social, social-economic, and economic whole, it is clear that public space plays a key role. It alone can connect the different densities, including vacant land, to form a continuum, while ensuring that controlled growth is possible. As the largest element of this space in terms of area covered, the street is the means to ensure atmospheric cohesion. When it is understood as a visually important built structure and not simply as a negative space between built fabrics, the street can create and sustain the atmospheric unity of a city on a social and perceptual level. Moreover, it can link and integrate city and landscape. Streets can open out views from the city over the surrounding landscape. And more importantly: nature can grow into the city along the street corridors, and vice versa. A rigid separation of compact building masses and open natural and cultivated landscape — as proposed in the Garden City utopia or the Charter of Athens — is superfluous when streets, squares, and parks create a strong continuum. By this means, city and landscape may evolve into a varied composite urban landscape, or a landscape city as shared living space. To this end, it is vitally important to prevent the privatization of large swaths of public space, since privatization means that the cities lose control of the space, as is evident in middle density districts, which have been popular with investors and property owners for decades. Semi-public spaces used as private areas destroy the continuum of the public exterior spaces of a city and make way for a never-ending series of private interests, which Le Corbusier identified as problematic long ago in the Charter of Athens. 52 Ultimately, a sensibly adapted continuum of public space is capable of creating a shared sense of urbanity, across all different density categories and groups, from the periphery all the way into the city center, and hence is able to offer a contemporary quality of life for all population groups. Cities and communities are increasingly challenged to plan, build, and maintain high-quality public spaces. They are the bonding elements that can connect a wide range of densities into a unified urban structure. And they are the tools with which the atmospheres in the different densities can be created and combined into a citywide atmosphere. For the city to be a holistic living space for humanity, fauna, and flora, and to present harmonious and dense atmospheres in all districts, what matters is the specific quality of the individual urban densities in relation to a strong public exterior space.

52 The Athens Charter, see note 31, Observation 72.

Despite all the similarities in the districts analyzed in this book, each of the four cities has its own character that defines the life of the people who live there and invests their buildings, streets, squares, cafés, and parks with an ineffable atmosphere found nowhere else. Four authors explore the unique attributes of their own cities through personal narratives. As the largest of the cities profiled here, and owing to its unique history, Berlin has absorbed landscape and nature into the expanse of its urban fabric; it has integrated them and interwoven them with the buildings into a multi-layered network that is almost impossible to disentangle. Bettina Erasmy speaks of the wastelands and green spaces of this city, which paradoxically emphasize the density ofthis city. She talks of the life of Berlin’s residents, both humans and animals, amid high density and fleeting dissolution, between lofty dreams and broken glass in the grass. In the much smaller Munich, on the other hand, the opposing poles of town and country are more clearly felt. In Matthias Kiefersauer’s story, partying girls from the village of Dingolfing ride through the narrow streets of Munich’s downtown in glitzy stretch limos. The oversized dimensions of the cars embody the idealized expectations of the village girls when it comes to the promises of the big city, which, in turn, is overtaxed to deliver on them. Density and restriction are closely intertwined in this city—in the streets and in the minds of people. The calm waters of the Isar River alone offer a brief respite, a relaxing space for a delicate rapprochement between town and country, heart and mind, in which the participants hardly dare trust. Vienna, although similar in size to Munich, is defined by a greater sense of confidence and at the same time stalked by moments of profound doubt. Franz Schuh speaks of the direct link between corporeality and psychological makeup in this city, and relates these terms both to himself and to Vienna as a whole. Megalomania and mediocrity, efficiency and wastefulness, élan and ennui, indus­ triousness and leisure, all form a strong urban fabric, although it has cavities and is somewhat ailing. These characteristics combine to create a generous urban personality, which still sometimes leans towards narrow-mindedness. Zurich is by far the smallest of the four cities. Still, in his story, Gerhard Meister describes a density of adjacent spaces with differing characteristics that is nearly unthinkable in the other cities. As in the expansive Berlin, nature is present everywhere—the residents and the protagonist of the Zurich story alike are able to fully identify with it. But nature here does not penetrate into the city, at least not physically; instead, the city is set jewel-like in the midst of nature, or at least what one might call nature. The forest, after all, is walking distance, or quite literally “a stone’s throw,” from the city center.

DENSITY STORIES   Berlin,  Munich,  Vienna,  Zurich (p. 210)

(p. 220)

(p. 234)

(p. 228)

Berlin

Bettina Erasmy

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The day I arrive, I am greeted by a gleaming dawn: another hot summer’s day has begun. I drove through the night with the removal van in my rear wing mirror. I am moving to Berlin. Berlin is a dream city, a friend of mine tells me: always becoming, and never being. If you ever need a good strong dose of paradox and complexity, then this is the place, he says. The center, somehow. At least two of them, probably more. Imperfect, uncontrollable, that too. A metropolis that cannot, without further ado, be granted normal case status. Creative, overestimated: perhaps; confusing: maybe. The moment you think you have formulated the basic axiom of the City of Berlin and are able to pinpoint what makes it so exciting, it has already changed again. A city like a palimpsest: written, erased, rewritten. Having lived in the city for a while, I think: a bundle of attributions that elude themselves as much as they do the city itself. But ­Berlin is one thing for sure: a city with tendencies to disintegrate. On the one hand. That evaporates. In changing fashions. Targets, ever-changing blueprints and self-conceptions. Evaporating into green areas, fallow land, undeveloped space. On the other hand, and at the same time: concentrated urban life. Concentrated in all directions. Vertical. Subcutaneous. Concentration through the proximity of opposites. Of human beings and nature. The density of closed and accessible history. That is exactly what I mean, says the friend. I am sitting at the foot of the old Allied communications inter­ cept station, an orphaned system of domes that crowns a greened scree mound: the ruins of Berlin’s bombed houses, which were unloaded and piled up here for twenty years after the war was over. The sand and Mother Earth sealed the masses of rubble to create a mountain that could then be landscaped; and one million planted trees completed the naturalization process. Now, the Teufelsberg is a striking part of the city’s landscape and is deemed irreplaceable. It is an essential part of Berlin’s image. The highest man-made mound is a war-waste-disposal site: a concentration of stone and rubble to create a gigantic invisible gravestone.

I would gladly accompany them during the twilight. would hide behind a gravestone with them, from them. Thomas Bernhard, Eine Begegnung (An Encounter)

A mountain-biker takes a rest next to me. Tells me of birds of prey that he has seen here. And that they now use the air-corridors, which

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used to be monitored far behind the Iron Curtain during the Cold War, for their calls. He tells me about the children who send their kites soaring here and creep through the perforated covering of the radar domes, even though the building has been officially sealed off because it was in such bad condition. About lovers who enjoy the view of their city, and some who have apparently promised someone their hand in marriage up here. A kind of bucolic hideaway, I think, which lies beneath the remains of a destroyed city. An idyll, whose foundations, in turn, provided the material for reshaping the remains of the building of the Wehrmacht’s military engineering faculty, which survived the War. (Not far from Teufelsee Lake, a university town was to have been built: part of the madness of the world-capital Germania in the “Thousand Year Reich”). The sky is low and gray, from the gloomy gray of approaching sultriness. I am sitting in the breezy shadows of this old colossus of plastic, steel and peeling paint. I run my hand over the squashed grass, not very lush, but soft and green. I grub, dig into the thin skin. A mountain-biker tells me that, while he was out on his bike yesterday, he tripped over the sharp edge of a shard. In which he believes he could identify an old tile (“You don’t see that sort of thing any more”). Often, after a powerful thunderstorm, the earth is very much washed out, and a relict from the excavation field beneath his wheels brings to light the existence of another age. It is these contrasts that I find so exciting about this place. One hundred and twenty meters above sea level, I have an impressive closeup of Berlin before me. A metropolis, extended in length and width, seemingly without a horizon, which, from painful memories of the Wall, may have felt that it had to go on expanding continually. And then there are the green lungs of the nearby recreation areas that flank, ventilate, and pierce parts of urban Berlin with such brute force at times, as if they were trying to make the city disappear. And when I turn my eyes away from this, I think I can sense a strange physical charge of this place; after all, the wrecked geometry of urban canyons, and the rubble and debris of a lost building history lie beneath me, as readable and lucid documents that will provide material for the arche­ ologists of the future.

Dyrkin and the switchboard operator were up to their necks in rubble and did not know whether their bones were broken or not. They could not touch them, because an iron girder above them was hanging so low that they could not stand up. But it was this girder that had clearly

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saved their lives. Dyrkin switched on the torch, and what he saw before him was truly frightening: above their heads, in the dust, hung slabs of stone, twisted pieces of iron, buckled concrete slabs and chewed-up cables. The next time a bomb struck, the iron and steel would melt, leaving not the tiniest crack open in which a person could survive Wassili Grossman, Life and Fate

I recall a game we used to play as children: we would imagine ourselves traveling to the center of the Earth, passing straight through it and then re-emerging on the other side: in New Zealand, for instance. Now I imagine an unmanned time machine that enters the highest dome of the radar station and—in fast motion—slides perpendicularly through the various time layers, which have now come alive, down to the plinth of a Grunderzeit building. A historical pyramid in which the known and unknown names of murderers, victims, power-holders and fellow travelers are accommodated in an uncanny concentration, and where the endless mixtures of sediments of all conceivable human abysses, passions and longings are stored. The geographical position of Grunewald Lake is 52°28'12"N and 13°15'45"E. At night, the lake is still, like a black film in the center of a once noble hunting ground. The barking of the dogs, which, during the day, occupy this lake and the adjacent Grunewald forest en masse at times, is merely a distant echo at this time of day. Over twenty thousand years ago, there was nothing here ­except for sub-glacial till; gravel, sand, silt and clay were all that remained of the melting ice sheet. On the largely sandy ground, oak, beech and birch grew here, and later increasingly pine too. At the dawning of the Modern Age, a hunting lodge Zum grünen Walde, was built here. Here, in this renaissance building the Elector Joachim II ­Hector ­was able to convalesce from his governmental affairs, hunt and share the company of his mistress. The animals hunted included deer, roes, wild boars, wood grouses, herons and pheasants, which found ­plenty of ­living space and food in this vast woodland, traversed by waterways and wetlands. To make the journey to the City of ­Berlin more comfort­a ble, the Elector of Brandenburg had a causeway (the later Kurfürstendamm) built from the hunting lodge to the Berlin Stadtschloss. In the 21st century, Berlin, like many other metropolises, has become a rampantly growing highly technicised control and distribution center, a potpourri of diverse life forms amidst an artificial

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massif of stone, concrete, glass and asphalt. Grunewald Forest, along with other local holiday areas in Berlin, has become part of the cityscape. City nature. Hunting for the sake of personal edification has been abolished. It now serves basically ecological purposes, largely focusing on the preservation of wildlife, with the protection of nature as its goal. Anyone who so desires can, of course, escape the city’s highly complex “ant colonies” and take time off the hunt, which now centers on mammon, jobs and the right lifestyle: pack your bathinggear, get the magnifying glass out of the rucksack, inspect the termite hills in the undergrowth and catch some butterflies. A verdant bulwark of six thousand hectares of green areas, at one time excluded by the city wall, now pushes its way into and through the megalopolis. The urban area now includes extensive mixed woodlands and lakes. And wild animals have moved in with them, following the ­human beings into the seas of houses. They feed on garbage, live ­u nder the streets, and pester us in swarms and colonies. In the meantime, they have become our fellow inhabitants, our dear—or much-­maligned— sub-tenants. Suspiciously, we register their presence as ­dormant and not-so-dormant partners. Whenever human beings walk, sit, run or stand, we can always be sure that they will find beastly neighbors nearby who are digging, rummaging, nosing around, hunting. And vice versa. There is no denying it: animals reflect the animal in us, and the zoon politikon displays its human side through the animal.

Pitiful, shadowy and fleeting, the human intellect appears in the world Only his owner takes it in such a pathetic manner, as if the hinges of the world evolved inside him. If we were able to communicate with the mosquito, we would learn that it, too, floats through the air with this pathos and feels as if it is the flying center of the world Friedrich Nietzsche, “On Truth and Lie in an Extra-Moral Sense”

The tidied-up nature of mono-cultural landscapes in the hinterland has changed the living reality of the animals dwelling there, in ­other words: it has become worse. As a consequence, a city like Berlin is densely populated: in addition to its three-and-a-half million human inhabitants, Berlin has one hundred and eighty species of birds, including owls, hawks, buzzards, kestrels and peregrine falcons; seventy-five percent of all the mosquito species in Central Europe; fiftythree species of mammals, including quite a number of large families

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of wild boars, as well as the extremely adaptable foxes, martins and raccoons. (Not to mention our domestic animals: the bugs, mites, beetles, rats, cats and dogs, which, in come cases, have socialized with us against our will). Thirty thousand animal species in Berlin alone. We have carefully shielded ourselves, founded urban centers and consider ourselves invulnerable and free from restrictions. The wild side of nature appears to be domesticated, tamed, banished. But we lay nature’s table for her, and offer her warm shelter where she can perfectly hibernate. The human-generated pollution in the form of dirt, noise and exhaust-fumes, does not seem to deter the animals (or the plants, either). They are enticed by the throwaway-products of our wealth-induced-neglect. Food sharing—with pleasure. Suddenly we see our gardens being brought under cultivation; unhoped-for playmates appear on children’s playgrounds; our toxic cars immobilized. An unprecedented wave of immigrating wild animals, once afraid of human beings, is beginning to unsettle us, to arouse fear. Human beings and animals have come so close now that it is worth, just for fun, reexamining our perspective. An animal looks at a ­human ­being. And what does it see? Human beings are creatures of habit. Inevitably, we shall have to become acquainted with the appearance and haunts of the new inhabitants alongside our own, generally well-equipped residential caves and nesting sites. Urban modes of living have always had a closely interwoven fate, signifying a mixture of complex processes and existences. In cities, human beings, with their space-consuming encroachment into nature, are approaching that point where their evolutionary predecessors once found themselves. One could say that something is returning that has always been a part of ­human nature. We are now living with them, door-to-door, in a new, enriched living community. Now seeping their way into the rich concentration of human sounds and urban noises are the song of the nightingale, the call of the crested lark, the grunting of wild boars, and the shuffling of the raccoon. And before the Gates of Berlin, the wolves are already waiting with their howling. When the friend rings the bell, he catches that midday calm between the hoots one normally hears up and down the street all day long. The howling of the cars fills the air day and night: sirens, fire engines, buses, automobiles caught up in congestion. It all seems so normal, as if it were an archaic tone upon which our existence depended. My friend talks with me via the intercom. –How are you?

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– Good, thanks. – How’s things? Much happening? – Wait a sec. I run to the kitchen window and peer over the tops of a row of trees at Tempelhof Airfield. – A few kite surfers, I say over the intercom. – Is that all? – I don’t know. Did you want to take a look? We’re sitting at the folding table at the other end of the apartment: a kitchen three by three meters. – How are you? this friend of mine asks, as if we hadn’t just spoken with one another. He takes the coffee, opens the kitchen window. The sound of a jackhammer. – I can sleep despite that, I say, even when the window’s open. – The best thing is the view, says my friend. – The runway is almost empty around this time, mid-week. A few people scattered about, kites, people out walking, I repeat. (They have been marching, exercising and holding parades on the field from time immemorial. First the Prussian Army, then the SS. And, ever since it opened: aviation. And during the Berlin Blockade, hot-air balloons, Zeppelins, bombers and supply planes fell from the sky here.) My friend offers me a theory. Right here, Berlin was a stage, and some of its scenery was still in the theater wings. The airport building’s arches formed a firewall. And with their diligence, the performers—the sportspeople, strollers and spectators on the runway and landing strip—preserved the stage in a playable condition.

The curtain went up on a set, whose rear wall was still shaking from the impact of the stagehand’s last-minute escape, and the first few lines of dialogue were blurred by the scrape and bang of accidental offstage noises. These small disorders were a sign of a mounting hysteria among the Laurel Players, but across the footlights they seemed only to add to a sense of impending excellence. Richard Yates, Revolutionary Road

– They’re just doing sports and enjoying the open space, I said soberly. He still always watches the airliners taking off from here to ­Madrid, Moscow and London: holiday flights, packed with sun-­ worshipers. Sometimes he regrets the airport's closure. Every time it was quite an experience, taking off, the wheels folding, and the sound

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of the plane fading in the clouds. Or when the planes, lights blinking, appeared through the haze and landed. In the middle of the city. – As a child, I was fascinated by the vapor trails; they were ­secret messages written in the sky by the planes, but one’s that ­only the adults understood, my friend said. Do you see those two skaters racing like madmen across the airstrip? Thirty, maybe forty kilo­ meters an hour. I see them. The unyielding concrete runway, apparently in one direction only, infinitely forward-looking, and so familiar to them, past the small bunches of people who are watching them and trying to avoid them Another theory. – This field is an undeveloped cell in a rampantly expanding city. A projection surface, he says. – How come? I ask. – Soon everyone will be romping around there, the inhabitants and ­local residents, the nerds and the geeks, the strollers and the remaining dreamers, the digital natives and the immigrants, the pompous twit from next door, the high-flier and the subculturalist, he said hasti­ly. (Now it really does sound like a commentary on a mass-scene on stage. Better still: in a movie. The inflection slightly feverish, filmed in shaky-cam-mode.) And they will do what people like to do in their free time: play, eat, do nothing and move.

Above all, do not lose the desire to walk. Everyday, I walk to feel good and, consequently, walk away from every illness; I have walked to my best thoughts and I don't know any that were so heavy that you could not get rid of them by walking. Søren Kierkegaard, Briefe an Regine Olsen

– In any case, sometimes the city strikes me as being some kind of mobile event park, I say. Depending on the attraction and media attention, it lures Berliners to one place one day and to another the next. The various parks: the Mauerpark, Preussenpark, Görlitzer Park and so on. It’s obvious why people go there from surrounding districts such as Neukölln and Tempelhof. But you reckon that the Tempelhofer Freiheit will become a kind of Central Park in Berlin and that people from Wannsee, Prenzlauer Berg – – Berlin, like New York, is a city, but one that lacks a definite center, this friend continues. A dense network of small urban conglomerations with diverse atmospheres. Poly-centric. Every year, as many as

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140,000 people move to the city, and it's still not quite clear whether the appetite to extend urban centers is likely to increase, or ­whether the buildings will become more compact, and people will live even closer together than before. The site is ideal: to have this air, light and expanse in an interior space, where you only see buildings again at the point where your field of vision ends. On four square kilometers of undeveloped space, encounters become kind of intersections; they form nodal points or leave transient symmetries on the asphalt. People approach one another, whirr apart. By chance, or by arrangement. Meeting places appear. Quiet zones. People out for a walk, sportspeople, families: a stop-and-go of hundreds of different types of movement. A human architecture of density and transparency. Every movement, sound and image. Collective intelligence, whose dynamics generate ever new images and forms. Le ­Corbusier himself described architecture as “the wise, correct and magnificent play of masses brought together in sunlight”. We are still standing in the draft of an open window. In the meantime, it has started to rain. The skaters blur and form indistinct silhouettes, before disappearing completely. The trees look as if they are collapsing under the sheer weight of the rain. He would like to visit me once a week and observe, from here, what is happening over there, my friend said. (“Over there”. Two of those words which still transport their meaning with great ­disquiet.) For him, it is like rediscovering a sense of community that he had believed lost. As in the old days, when people arranged to meet in front of the television. My friend’s wish sounded so urgent—as if the future of this city depended on it. Which is obviously absurd. We are not yet in the thick of things, merely the vague observers of a reservation beneath a broad unobstructed sky. With our eyes, collecting visual data of something that may soon no longer exist in this form, we say to ourselves. But even more than being unsettled by this diffuse suspicion, we enjoy the melancholia that will kindle now with every week that passes.

Only Playing

Matthias Kiefersauer

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They couldn’t be from Munich. Christoph was absolutely certain of that. Westernmühlstraße was already bad news for anyone with a small car: two-way traffic was permitted, but the road was so ­narrow that there was only ever enough room for one car. Anyone driving down Westernmühlstraße spent most of their time in driveways letting oncoming traffic pass. Christoph rarely used his car. He came from Munich—and inhabitants of Munich use their cars only if they want to transport a designer chair or clog up the hikers’ car parks in Jachenau. Consequently, Christoph was all the more struck by the two stretch limousines pushing themselves down Westermühlstraße one Saturday evening in May, and stopped in front of the Sushi-Bar where he was sitting with Laura. The crossroads was blocked immediately. The drivers got out. They were wearing sunglasses. Even though it had been dark for an hour. Christoph cast a glance at the car ­number-plate: Dingolfing. It confirmed his feelings. The driver in the first limousine opened the rear door. When Christoph saw the first passenger clumsily peel herself out of the car, he sighed softly: “Not again!” The woman was about thirty years old. She was holding a bunch of flowers in her hands and wore a veil, which did not match her jeans and blouse at all. A bride who was celebrating her hen’s night. Her girlfriends went over and joined her. They were all about the same age—and in very high spirits. The bride glanced at the sign above the entrance door and pulled a face, causing the other women to laugh. They then hung a vendor’s tray on her. And one of her escorts stood in front of her and euphorically started to explain something. Her girlfriends doubled up with laughter. Christoph was glad that he was sitting behind a thick pane of glass and couldn’t understand a thing. “She’s the seventh one today,” he said, as the bride and her girlfriends entered the Sushi bar. He had spent the day in the city ­center looking for some new joggers. A woman with flowers, a vendor’s tray and a bridal veil had spoken to him six times, and not only that: ­every single one of them had tried to sell him sex toys, nobbed ­condoms, handcuffs and, in one case, even a vibrator. And each time, C ­ hristoph had pretended that he could not understand the woman with the veil. When he told Laura about this, she burst out laughing: “Are you afraid of them?” she asked. Christoph shook his head. Fear was the wrong word. He always felt out of his depth when he got caught up in a ­bachelorette party. As a man, he never quite knew how he was supposed to behave. Laura was amused: “They only want a bit of fun, dear.” Laura and Christoph had been together for six years. She didn’t even realize that she was calling him dear.

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So now there was Sushi too. Martina was gradually beginning to doubt whether the women accompanying her really were her girlfriends. They had been begging her for weeks to hold her bachelor­ ette party in the city. But Martina didn’t like Munich. And she ­hated being the center of attention. She’d refused. Her girlfriends hadn’t let up, though, and at some point she gave in. She had been trudging round Munich for eight hours now with a silly veil on her head and an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach. Patrizia had come up with the program. She knew Martina well. In actual fact, she hadn’t ­forgotten a single thing that Martina had confided in her over the past sixteen years. In other words: so far, it had been a day full of embarrassing moments for Martina. Martina had had to sing—in the middle of the street. And yet at school, the choir director had always bribed her with sweets to move her lips without making a sound. Patrizia, however, insisted that M ­ artina try her luck as a street musician for her bachelorette party. And she only stopped pestering her after twenty euros had accumulated in her hat, which her girlfriends held under the nose of every passer-by. Afterward, they had explored the city on Segways, although ­Martina, overtaxed by the vehicle’s technology, brushed a young ­father’s child-transporter and caused a rather bloody fall in the process. Later on, Patrizia had cut up Martina’s bra during a drinking game. Martina repaired it provisionally with a safety-pin, but was constantly afraid she might prick herself. In the end, they had a kind of public dancing session in a round temple near the Residenz, and Martina had had to dance the Lambada with every pensioner who happened to turn up—who then had to pay a sum of money to Patrizia. An old man in a yellow knitted jersey got an erection in the ­process. And although her girlfriends did not notice it, they still laughed. And now the girls had taken Martina to a Sushi bar, of all ­places. While they were still on the street, Patricia gave her a mission: she was to go from one table to the next with a vendor’s tray, sell sex toys and, in this way, earn her supper. What a stupid game! Martina would have to overcome her misgivings first—and then vomit. Because she wasn’t fond of talking to strangers. And she found raw fish disgusting. Patricia knew that too. Throughout the day, Martina had been hoping that the bachelorette party would at least end pleasantly. A happy end among girl friends. But, apparently, Patrizia and the girls hadn’t finished with annoying Martina. “That’s enough for me now,” said Martina, before sitting down at the reserved table. The girls booed. Half of the bar turned round and looked at her. Martina could feel herself blushing. A man at the next table asked what was up with the bride. And

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­ atricia said, louder than necessary: “She is just a bit inhibited.” Her P girlfriends laughed. Martina put the vendor’s tray on the table and crossed her arms. At first, Christoph thought it was a deco gag. A vase holding a rose with a long stem was standing on the toilet floor, right next to a ur­ inal. But then he discovered a slip of paper attached to the vase with the sticky tape. The following words were written in a woman’s handwriting: “Men of Munich: pay attention! Pluck up some courage and stop the bride from carrying out her plan!” Christoph fled from the bunch of flowers just as he had from the six brides in the inner city. But then he discovered the flower ­a rrangement even on the wash-basin mirrors. The flowers and the note annoyed him. What would happen if he decided to play the ­woman’s game? If he were to passionately obey all the instructions on the sheet? If he really did try to seduce the bride? He washed his hands. It was Saturday evening. Laura had said goodbye to start her night-shift. Christoph would now go home and listen to music that Laura didn’t like. He had got into the habit of ­doing so. Or she had asked him to do it; he wasn’t really sure any more. The longer he starred at the roses, the more he wanted to be challenged—by seven brides—and, yes, by his own girlfriend, too, who was always calling him “dear” and laughing when he spoke about women he didn’t know. He sought his own glance in the mirror. And then he suddenly losened, took the bunch of flowers and left the t­ oilet. He took the vase with him, too. There was an empty seat next to Martina. And suddenly a man stood before her holding a bunch of roses. He was even holding a vase, which he placed on the table. The girls fell silent and looked across at him. The man sat down, without stopping to ask. “And you want to get married?” he asked. Martina looked around. Her girlfriends were watching her intently. She knew that look in their eyes. That’s how the girls looked when someone was telling a joke and they were waiting for the punch line. But this time, Martina didn’t want her girlfriends to catch the punch line. She had been the victim ever since she had climbed into that stupid limousine that morning at the turning bay. To be precise: her friends had always laughed at her a lot—for ­t wenty-nine years. The man next to Martina was waiting for an ­a nswer. The girls too. Martina straightened her back. She fixed her gaze on him with her brown eyes and said: “Yes, I do.” And she smiled—for the very first time since she had arrived in Munich.

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A half an hour later, they were discussing things that she had not even touched upon with Jürgen. Was Martina happy with him? What is the difference between love and a close friendship? Where does unfaithfulness begin? Christoph asked her all these questions. And ­Martina answered them. She had never spoken so openly with any of her girlfriends. She sensed that nobody at the table believed her ­capable of occupying herself with such questions at all. After all, ­Jürgen was Martina’s first boyfriend. And she was going to marry him next ­Saturday. Full stop. The girls pretended to be chatting. But now and then they would fall silent in mid sentence, whenever Christoph came up with a new question that was even more private, and Martina revealed even more openly a side of her that surprised everyone. Christoph remained very charming, made her laugh, and probed even further when­ever she initially only wanted to tell half the story. She could sense the girls’ agitation. And it excited her. Then she tried something. She touched Christoph on the lower arm, as if by accident. The conversation among the others fell silent again. And because she enjoyed the girls’ silence, she had another go—and rested her hand on ­Christoph’s forearm. She had let herself in for a game and become a different person in this encounter with a stranger. No longer an inhibited bride, but the Martina she had always wanted to be, if only she had had the courage. She could hardly believe how easy it all seemed. Christoph was a bit out of practice. He had not consciously flirted with other women since he was with Laura. He searched the back of his mind for questions. It was with these that he had come closer to this Kerstin, the only one-night-stand in his life, long before he met Laura. He was surprised that the old questions still worked. But even so, something disturbed him about the conversation with Martina. It took a while before he could say what it was. “I’d like to know what you look like without the veil,” said Christoph. Martina touched her head, feeling for the veil. She had evidently forgotten she was wearing it. She put it down next to her vendor’s tray. Then she shook her hair until it had regained its former shape. Christoph was satisfied. “I thought so.” Martina didn’t understand what he meant. “What then?” Christoph smiled: “You’re quite pretty.” He couldn’t remember when he had last said something like that to Laura. After all, darlings don’t pass compliments. In any case, the things he had said to Martina were compliments with an escape route. He had been challenged to play this game downstairs in the toilet. Now he simply made an effort. And in the end he would say that he hadn’t really meant it that way. But first he wanted to know

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how far the bride was willing to go with him. Christoph had an idea. Patrizia put her last Sushi roll back in the soya sauce. “You don’t ­seriously mean that?” she said. Martina was already standing, how­ ever. With Christoph alongside her. Martina found it interesting the way Patrizia had changed since Christoph had spoken to her. All day long, Patrizia had been making announcements, telling Martina what she had to do, and working herself into a state of hysterical exuberance. Then Christoph had sat down next to Martina—and, suddenly, ­Patrizia sounded like Martina’s mother. “We are celebrating your bachelor­ ette party,” she said reproachfully. Martina shrugged her shoulders: “I don’t like Sushi. And over there you can get the best curried sausage in town.” And, casting a brief glance at Christoph, she added: “He says.” Christoph nodded. Patrizia shook her head. “But make it quick!” she warned her girlfriend. Martina wished that she could detect a sign of irony in Patrizia. But her girlfriend’s voice and the look in her eyes were deadly serious. Martina turned round to Christoph and gave him a nod. They left the Sushi bar. However, Patrizia’s persistence gnawed away at Martina. When they were standing on the street, she begged Christoph to wait a second—and went back inside again. The distance from the door to the table felt very different now. Earlier on, with her veil and vendor’s tray, Martina had found the few meters to the table unbearably long. Then, she was still the inhibited bride. Now, however, she also sensed that she was being watched. Her gait was light, however, and the look in her eyes left no doubt that she knew exactly what she wanted. Patrizia seemed to ignore that. She screamed out at her: “I knew you were only joking.” Now she was smiling radiantly again. But Martina, looking quite serious, remained standing behind her chair and asked: “What do you mean by a joke?” And while she was saying that, she reached out quite casually for her vendor’s tray and took three condoms. She then paused for a moment—and reached out for a fourth one. “You never know,” she said smiling, and turned away. This time the girls didn’t laugh. It was only after Martina had taken a few steps that Patrizia called out to her: “OK, that’s enough, Martina! Come back!” Martina didn’t even turn round. She merely raised her hand briefly in a farewell gesture. None of her girlfriends could see her eyes. The inhibited bride was beaming—and, at the same time, asking herself whether she would live to regret this evening. She actually went off with him, left her own party because of him. Or because of the curried sausage he had promised her. If this were a ­real flirt, Christoph thought, he would now take her straight to the Isar. But how genuine was his flirt with Martina, in fact? At first,

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­ hristoph had merely been curious. But now that she linked arms C with him and drew him close to her, and as her hair tickled his neck for a brief ­moment, he felt excited. “And where are we going now?” she asked, with a soft chuckle. Christoph turned to her: Martina didn’t want a ­curried sausage. That was clear to him now. “To the Isar,” he said. Of course she did not really want to sleep with Christoph. She had only taken the condoms to shock her girlfriends. And she was proud of herself that she succeeded in doing so. Nevertheless, she knew that their game would have to end at some point, and she would have to turn back into the Martina who lived with Jürgen and his parents in a terraced house on the turning bay. But did it have to end now? They soon reached the Isar. Christoph led her over a bridge. They then descended some stairs and walked a few meters back towards the town center. On the bank of the Isa, there were some huge stone steps. It looked like a tribune. All that was missing was the stage. They looked at the river and the city. Typical Munich, thought ­Martina: the entire city’s a stage! Everyone is playing a role. Everyone is putting on an act. She turned to Christoph. He was leaning back and enjoying the view. Never in her life had she felt so good in loathsome Munich as she did during these few hours with Christoph. When she was a different person. When she, too, put on an act. Christoph told her about a band called Endkrass. They wanted to play just one single concert and then split up. He had been to the concert—more or less by chance. A little later, they became the Sportfreunde Stiller he said, but not without a sense of pride. He then interrupted himself. With a movement of the head, he diverted her glance downwards. Martina was startled: for whatever reason, her hand was on his lower arm again. She hadn’t even noticed it. Her eyes met his, and suddenly their eyes stopped sparkling. Now, they had a serious look in their eyes. Silence. “And do you really want to get married next week?” he asked again. “Of course,” she said. But her hand did not let go of his arm. Normally I would kiss her now, he thought. Would that be his last try? Or would it really go further? And where did infidelity start, he asked himself? Until now, it had been a pleasure with Martina, one that he wanted to tell Laura about. That, at least, was what he had thought. But now Christoph realized that, in reality, the big question was no longer how far did the bride want to go, but how far he wanted to. On the other hand, how could he now escape the situation? Hadn’t it been clear for quite a while now how things would c­ ontinue?

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It all seemed so illicitly logical. And it would undoubtedly be very nice. No, not very nice, but hot. But tomorrow he would be meeting Laura again. His Laura. On the other hand, she didn’t really believe he had it in him to do what he was doing now. If he were to lean forward a little with his upper body and then… Just then, Martina’s cell phone rang. She reached out for it. Christoph recognized the name on the display: Patrizia, the maid of honor. Maybe its better this way, thought Christoph. Martina starred at the telephone. And then she got up. Christoph stood up too. “Shall I take you back?” he asked. Martina merely shook her head, turned round, her back now facing the Isar, and threw her ringing cell phone in a high arc over her shoulder and into the water. “It’s supposed to bring good luck,” she said dryly. Why did she do that? Martina couldn’t even answer that question herself. She was sure, however, that she would have answered the call had a different name appeared on the display. Jürgen could have gone and picked her up, collected her like a stray pet. But not ­Patricia. She had driven Martina to the point where she was now standing by the Isar with a totally strange man who found something attractive about her, which she didn’t really have. And now? She could also make up the rest, thought Martina. The girls would believe her every word. The inhibited chick had won the game, one way or another. She looked at Christoph. For a long time. And then she made a decision. “You live somewhere around here, don’t you?” Christoph heard her say. So now the secret was out. He suddenly felt sad. How he would like to have to kissed her now. How he would have loved to disappear with her in his apartment! But he couldn’t. He was still Laura’s sweetheart. He couldn’t image living with the situation that he had so longingly desired just a moment ago. “Listen,” he said, “I have a girlfriend.” — “And I have a fiancée.” Martina smiled at him. Her look was challenging. He left her standing there and went home. From the bridge, he saw her one last time. She hadn’t moved an inch. She sat on the stone steps and stared into the Munich night sky. Christoph imagined that he could see her shaking her head. Three days later, Laura told Christoph that she had been having an affair with one of her colleagues for several months. And the following Saturday, Martina got married. It’s said that she is happily married to Jürgen. And she doesn’t like traveling to Munich.

City and Atmosphere. Impressions of Vienna

Franz Schuh

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In the 1980s, I wrote a book: some prose about my home town. I was not, unfortunately, The Man with the Movie Camera, who in Vertov’s eponymous film portrayed the city of Moscow with a technique appropriate to it, namely that of film. At the time, it was a unity of form and content. By then, the advanced technology of the camera and the triumph of urbanity had reached the same state of development. And in the same way that Vertov’s film documented a sense of exhilaration, the awakening of different and diversely employed ­people in a city, I felt a similar sense of euphoria walking around in Vienna for the book I was writing. My euphoria stemmed from the fact that I, with my intention to write, was able to observe the city as an end in itself. I didn’t take a tram to arrive at a destination, but to see how the city itself functioned and, above all: how it felt. I was, initially at least, relieved of my role as worker bee; after all the work itself would be completed in due course, yet for the time ­being I was a flâneur, proceeding from the assumption that people and cities said something to one. The city also says something about me myself: many years ago, I had encountered the concept “body ­image”. This concept—it stems among others from the Viennese psychiatrist Paul Schilder— deals with people’s “body awareness”, and, in my psychoanalytically incorrect and slightly trivializing interpret­ ation, that one’s feeling for one’s own body is not restricted by to it alone. In other words, we also incorporate conceptions from our surroundings into our physical feelings: for instance my way to school when I was a child—above all the bridge over the Westbahn motorway which I had to cross to get to Mariahilfer Straße—impressed ­itself upon me physically through reality and in my imagination: I know the way in my sleep. But the impression starts on the staircase: you can have the feeling that going up and down the stairs helps you to develop a sensibility for your body. Each and every one of us has acquired something from the outside world in which we customarily reside and whose demands we have to deal with day in, day out. And it is obvious that all human beings, if they are fortunate, are attuned to their outside worlds. If they lack that good fortune, they will find themselves suffering from the dissonance between their mood and whatever risks their environment has in store for them. Hardly anybody, for example, forgets intolerable living conditions—they determine, albeit not alone, our attitude towards our lives right up to the end. It is to Silvia Bovenschen’s book Über-Empfindlichkeit that I owe a quote from Paul Valéry’s Cahiers: “The true portrait of a ­person should involve outlining the location of the things he finds pleasant

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and desirable, and—to the same degree—the location of the things that repel him. Everything is defined by his particular sensibility. That means using a table of his potential answers to respond to the ­q uestions that either his ‘world’ or his organism poses.” If the question arises as to the kind of atmosphere the density of buildings in a city can create, the first answer is as simple as it is unsatisfying: greater density can evoke a sense of well-being, of ­being sheltered. These very same conditions can, however, also be experienced as restrictive. I found the formidable urban ravines forming the streets of São Paulo, and the squares surrounded by skyscrapers, gigantomanical. But the sensation was uplifting. I was able to invest the fears it inspired in me in a delightful shudder at their sheer size. Central European cities like Vienna never create such an impression. In Vienna, there are, at best, allusions to buildings of such dimensions, such as the Vienna International Center, which, remark­ ably enough, stands in the district of Kaisermühlen and still, for all its modernity, betrays something of old Vienna with its Emperor. There are film shots of the car lanes crossing the bridge in the UNO City, which really do create the semblance of a vast urbanity. In reality, however, Vienna possesses merely truncated versions of all this, which, among other things, keeps the megalomania of us natives in check. I grew up in Vienna’s 15th District and became familiar with two large open spaces, whose character was changed by urban development, and this change, in turn, transformed the way I felt about my city in my soul. On the site of today’s City Hall, which is now a fabulously over-indebted event venue, during my early childhood there used to be a wilderness of abandoned and overgrown allotments. To me, this wilderness (and I saw it precisely as that, even though I was unable to articulate it) symbolized the feeling that this city contained unlimited space and that—if nobody actively prevents it—green ­vegetation could grow out of the grayness of the suburbs. The space was a playground, although never intended as such. The municipal playgrounds—with their fenced-in football pitches— were, in terms of urban-planning, a contradiction in themselves. They were not there for playing in, but for regimenting the players, who acquiesced under the motto “better than nothing at all”. Behind the fencing there was little adventure to be had, at least not of the kind with which the wilderness beckoned. We proletarian kids, who seemed to give no hope of promise, simply called the fenced-in ­soccer pitch a cage. The civic center (and that is how I viewed it, even though I was unable to articulate it) was a rather clinical building, which ­dominated the area not only architecturally, but also socially, with

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all the hustling and intrigues one naturally finds at places that one can normally only enter with a ticket. There was something sterile about this place, once overrun by nature. But multipurpose halls of this kind are an essential part of towns and cities, including the ­entire concrete atmosphere of these meeting places for crowds seeking entertainment: they cost space and stand there—conspicuously exposed in the wide yonder—triumphantly until the day they are, perhaps, torn down. The other urban expanse, which was later overdeveloped in ­places, was for me as a child the Schmelz (called after the former smelting works). Under the Emperor, the Schmelz served as a military exercise and parade ground. Even now, the Schmelz still ­contains tidy allotments, one next to another, where people can communicate with each other, argue, or indeed chose not argue at all. The gardens—little boxes—sit right next to one another, meticulously ordered in parcels and by paths. No anarchy! The Schmelz also contains a Schutzhaus (a shelter building) which, I believe, was originally intended to protect allotment gardeners from the inclemency of the weather. The Schutzhaus has a huge garden for its guests and is named—to avoid any misunderstandings—Schutzhaus Zukunft (the future refuge). Oh, what a lovely place it is ... However, the rest of the Schmelz was not allowed to remain a so-called recreation area. Instead, a grammar school was slapped on the site, and right opposite a sports facility for the university gymnasium. Here, future gym teachers do their voluntary and compulsory exercises. Having survived my compulsory school education, I now love school buildings that I do not have to enter, and so I find the life that arrived in the Schmelz in the form of the pupils and the ­students very urban. Too much relaxation and too many museums (in which time stands still) make me feel ill in the city. On the ­Schmelz, life (almost) pulsates – and this is due not least to the fact that buildings with different functions stand more or less cheek by jowl. It has a vitality which—if one doesn’t happen to be feeling depressed oneself just at that moment—is enjoyable. I have also experienced the opposite: namely, the way in which ever denser developments can throw you off balance until you feel well and truly sad. I was ten years old when my parents moved into a large block of council flats in Alliogasse. Allio—that was the name of a baroque architect who came from Italy. Well, there was ­t ruly ­nothing baroque about Alliogasse. But I did have, exaggerating a ­little, a “balcony”, or rather a concrete slab, with bars, that widened outwards. From here I had a wonderful far-reaching view into an ­avenue as far as, and extending into, Märzstraße.

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There was nothing opposite our apartment balcony. We had a good view. And I often found myself looking onto a free children’s pool (as open-air swimming pools of this nature were referred to in towncouncil jargon). I think that, by the age of ten, I had outgrown the age in which you were allowed to bathe there, but in the summer— even still as a seventeen-year-old—I would look down there. And for as long as I could. It was an illusion to believe the city would allow things to continue this way: building land is expensive, and people want somewhere to live! In the course of time, which saw my parents growing older, the view from our balcony was bricked over. When I visited them, a ­sorry sight awaited me: the wretchedness of living in the little flat opposite. As if my own plight had not been enough. The children’s pool had disappeared, and the playground, which they had allowed to ­exist there as a substitute for a time, had vanished too. The buildings were standing so closely together, that any further restriction of space would have been almost impossible, and I now know what it was that so completely depressed my spirits: the light. The alley, built up on both sides, sorely dimmed the daylight. It made a huge difference to the time when I would get the first sunburn of the year ­sitting on the balcony in my bathing trunks. Bathing in the light and having a clear view: they were harbingers of happiness. I would like to mention a different kind of change in atmo­sphere caused by over-building, one that has nothing to do with either a darkening or a heightening of my spirits. It was by pure chance—in ­other words a love affair—that I was able to live in a house in PrinzEugen-Straße in the 4th District for a few years. From the apartment (which was at the rear of the building, far from any street noise), I looked out onto a large open square, which, a few hundred meters on, merged into the car park of the public Austrian broadcasting ­studio. I worked for Austrian radio from time to time (and still do) and from Argentinierstraße I could see my girlfriend’s living-room window in the far distance. This free view also left its mark on me. For years now, everything at the place in question has been overbuilt, and with an architectural insensitivity that can only leave one in dismay as a resident or passer-by. I have resigned myself to it, but refuse to let my mood darken; I have become indifferent to the situation and submit without complaint to the sad state of things that I get to see often enough. I now live in the center of Vienna, because there is nothing like going out with a bang. What distinguishes the inner city is a certain denseness, albeit in a way that never becomes cramped. Noble inner-city areas use space generously, which may be due to the fact

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that very few people can afford to buy land or real estate here. The ­(rarely exaggerated) spaciousness of such properties has cheered me up for a few decades now, but I do not want to deny that the ­places from my origins continue to hold the promise of a certain happiness that I have yet to find. Indeed, Ernst Bloch’s famous phrase applies for a city child, too: “then something comes into being in the world that shines into everyone’s childhood and where no one has yet been – home.” When, as I mentioned above, I used to stroll through the city in the 1980s, compiling sentences for my prose text entitled Der Stadtrat (the town councilor), I was struck by the extraordinary density of the housing estates in the old working-class districts of Vienna. The old buildings—in the 16th District for instance—did not provide any freespace. They also had something oppressive about them, thus nourishing the cliché of the proletarian life-style, which—like all clichés—contains an element of truth. The communal buildings in which I spent my childhood at least made a greater effort to raise self-aware inhab­ etween itants. Even so, right up to the present, the old distinction b the huts, on the one hand, and the palaces, on the other, has not lost any of its significance. The distinction between “the poor” and “the rich”, which for example Georg Büchner adopted for the revolution almost 300 years ago, still leaves its mark on the townscape of ­today. It would be hardly surprising if we could measure changes in mood here that—for all the pacification of conflicts—ultimately turn out to be decisive.

Forest Fever

Gerhard Meister

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Outside, in front of the cinema entrance, they were playing boules and drinking beer, their shoes in this light-colored grit; above laughter, people smoking. Summer had finally arrived in the city, sweeping away all that was reminiscent of Zwingli and of being buttoned up. Summer had arrived, and with it a Mediterranean desire to stroll around and enjoy life to the full that was evident everywhere; ­people were out on the streets, filling the lake promenade, and this little park, too, a former school playground, to which a bar and a cinema belonged, was full of people. He was sitting inside. It was the third evening in succession that he was sitting inside, in this cinema. He didn’t want to spend time wondering why this was the case. Weren’t the wonderful sofas a good reason for his early-summer isolation? The sofas in this cinema, those huge black leather sofas that you could stretch out in, a drink within arms reach on the floor. The first film was from Argentina, shot in the forests of P ­ atagonia (one man shoots another in a hunting accident, assumes his identity and becomes involved in a gangster story with even more sound of deadly gunfire); the second was from Malaysia, unusually long-lasting takes, clumsy acting and again lots more forest, through which spirits whooshed, their big round eyes sparkling in the night. ­Until now he had hardly felt any of that longing for nature that drove so many out of the city, and he found it quite fitting that while he had now, so it seemed, succumbed to the fascination of the forest, it was a forest taking place in the cinema. This was where he was now ­sitting, and all alone. The weather had obviously kept people away, and maybe the film, too, which was being shown today: a totally unknown film. He certainly had never heard anything about this film before, nor did the name of the director say anything to him (which needn’t mean much); he hadn’t paid any attention to whether it had any well-known actors, he simply wanted to see this film because he knew that it would lead him into the forest. They didn’t show films to less than five spectators, the ­woman at the cash desk had said, and you are the only one so far who wants to see it. I’m sorry. He had not anticipated this situation. What was he supposed to do if he couldn’t spend the next two hours in this cinema, in this film, knowing only that the forest, as announced by the original idea for the program, played the main role? He simply stood there, not knowing what to do. The projectionist saved him. She must have noticed his predicament and that his entreaties to see the film were virtually streaming from his eyes. Nonsense. Where did that idea come from? Nothing was streaming from his eyes. She simply found the film fantastic, as she had convincingly assured him. She wanted to

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watch this film once more, and that was the only reason why he was now sitting there alone in the auditorium—with the forest already in front of him. What he was now watching was even stranger than the ghost story from Malaysia the day before. At first it seemed as if the ­camera had simply been placed on the forest floor, motionlessly aimed at the green vegetation, accompanied by a slight whooshing sound that came from the tops of the fir trees. After a while, the camera, still only slightly above the needle-covered ground, started moving. It skirted around the blueberry undergrowth, pushing its way through a thicket of freshly planted young fir trees (perhaps the height of a man) before disappearing behind a thick tree trunk and emerging only slowly from its cover. The camera showed the eyes of an ­a nimal creeping through the forest, that much he had grasped. In one frame, in which the eyes remained motionless, the outline of a bird appeared, which displayed the entirely normal nervousness of a bird, without the slightest idea that it was being observed, and that by an animal that was out to get it. Suddenly, the animal leaped at the bird, bit it in the neck, shaking the squeaking and fluttering bird to and fro, a whirlwind of feathers in the air, and then the bird being eaten, filmed in infinitely long real time. He didn’t feel at all bored by this, enjoyed the forest that the film had lured him into and also enjoyed in a certain way the meal of the animal that had now ­eaten its fill and was setting off in search of water. How did he know that the animal was thirsty? Why did he show such ­sympathy in the way the animal was now searching for water, why was he so delighted like the animal itself to hear the splashing of a brook? The fast lapping of the tongue. How did this director, who he’d never heard of, manage it, which tricks did he use to make his sole spectator in this cinema feel so relieved that the animal was able to quench its thirst? How come he identified with this animal, when he could only ­begin to imagine what it was (a fox, perhaps)? But there was no time for questions: the action started again, the animal’s nose scurried across the needle-covered forest floor, where a new temptation had left its scent; the smell grew stronger in intensity, the pace quicker, and there she was, the lynx—and how did he know that it was a bitch and not a male, it didn’t matter, he wanted to get her, to mount her at whatever cost, as fast as possible. But the lynx acted coyly, and gave way, with him chasing after her, his paws grabbing for her and she resisting, hissed loudly, and then disappeared. Restless stalking in the forest, where night had fallen, but his eyes penetrated the darkness, and then—he felt a stab of pain—suddenly became dull. The cinema lights went up. He sat there, confused, the projectionist was standing

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in front of him, repeating what she had said earlier: a fantastic film. He nodded and remained silent; she suggested that they have a beer together. He nodded, still in different world. They left the cinema, outside the mild summer night, the number of people on the ­g ravel square had multiplied, boules was still being played, the balls hit the gravel with a dull crunch, their noise unpleasantly penetrating the babbling voices. Is everything all right? asked the woman. He nodded, then stood there, lost, amidst the ­people around him, while she queued at a beer stand, where crowding people where jostling for positions. The woman returned and handed him a plastic beaker. He stood there holding a beer in his hand, like all those around him, talking with this woman, whom he had got to know that evening. She talked about the film that they had both seen, he didn’t understand what she was saying, the presence of the forest was still too close in which he had been prowling around just now. He then thought of the lynx and of the unsuccessful hunt for her. The thought of taking up the chase again, and following it through to a successful conclusion. Wouldn’t that be an opportunity? He was confused. Who was now the hunted and who the hunter? He liked the woman, no doubt about that, and she seemed to like him too: her smile was unwavering, although he had only talked to her on the side. Take up the chase. No, it wouldn’t work. Something disturbed him about this woman and it was, he realized, because she wasn’t a lynx. He was very restless now. Around him, the confusion of the many different voices, very noisy, even though the square was open. The ­people around him exaggerated their human agitation and joys in facial expressions he found repulsive. He didn’t like the taste of the beer, ­either. He left the woman there, pushed his way through the crowd of men and women, beer and cigarettes, shoulder bags and flip-flops. He nearly fell over a bicycle that someone had left standing there. A man was urinating through the iron lattice fence surrounding the square. A group of very young women, short skirts, high heels, beer cans in their hands, hindered his movement, he was caught up in their over-excited laughter. A car drove past, the driver kept his hand on the horn, in the front passenger seat a women had just managed to climb out through a window into the open air, she was delighted about a football match that a team had won, or about the summer, or about herself, that they were there that evening, at that place, where life was pulsating. At the street corner, a bar with its tables outside, lots of pushing and shoving, loud noise. A tram approached, he wasn’t sure if it was still on the rails. He crossed the road, walked faster, a huge tram depot was open on his left, illuminated by hund­reds of neon lamps, to the right the row of facades tore open, a last intima-

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Gerhard Meister

tion of the sun setting above a high-rise which, some way off, stood there as wide as a mountain. He crossed a bridge, beneath him the train roared past. The traffic lights changed from green to yellow to red, very close to him, and then, like an echo at the next crossing and at the one ­a fter that red patches of light in the twilight. The eyes of the forest spirits, the eyes of the lynx bitch. The roar of a man at the open car door into his cell phone. One of the inevi­t able orthodox Jews in this district: long beard, black hat and kaftan on a bicycle. The road became a little steeper. He stopped in front of a shop window. The word FLASH stood out in large red self-adhesive letters, the S as a jagged yellow flash of lightning in the lettering. Inside the spit with kebab meat, a black-haired man, the customary cheap seats and tables in these bars. He felt hungry, but had absolutely no desire to actually go through the procedure of buying anything. But if he still wanted to eat something, he ought to do it know. If he continued in this direct­ion there would only be housing estates, very long, new multi­story buildings, and then these terraced houses with their front ­gardens that rose up the slope. The road now became steeper, the black mass of the Üetliberg rose before him, on top of the mountain, the needle of the broadcasting ­tower with its blinking red lights, otherwise the light had disappeared, black every­where, black spruce forest that he was very close to now. Here, in the direction of the Üetliberg, the city abruptly came to an end, the Üetliberg itself was already the end of town, it was the forest that he was driven towards and which he had now almost reached. Everything around him was quiet now. From a front garden, laughter emerged, muffled, nobody in sight, everything was quiet. Then sudden­ly, a few steps away, a cat in front of him. It raised its hackles, it hissed, he hissed back. With a pitiful meow, it disappeared into the bushes. He examined his ears’ new-found pliability. He surrendered to the urge, and cast off his clothes. Waste-containers were standing at a street corner, he hesitated, sniffed at the smell ­emanating from them. Then, suddenly, a voice, he saw a couple not far off. The man had pointed in his direction. The two of them looked at him, seemed to be discussing something. With a few leaps, he was able to retreat from the light of the street lamps into the darkness and continue climbing. Beneath him the city gleamed and sparkled in thousands of lights, on his left, the glow faded in the distance, on the right, the lake, now a long drawn-out black patch, divided the lights that ran along its bank. An ambulance siren approached in his direction and faded away. He turned away, crossed the last asphalted path, scurried through the grass that tickled his belly, he cried out,

he enjoyed this ticklish feeling so much, and he enjoyed even more what still lay before him. For there it was, the forest, whose cool air filled his nostrils, the forest he was running towards, the forest ­i nto which he disappeared.

Density Catalog Photos, Maps, Diagrams



Terminology and Abbreviations

4 Cities, 36 Urban Districts, 9 Density Categories, 13 Analysis Parameters

243 This chapter explains the terminology employed in this study and provides information on the bases for calculation, the scales and abbreviations in the maps, diagrams, photographs, and aerial images in the «Density Catalog».

F: Number of floors Number of usable floors above ground (full floors) plus usable attic story with a defined minimum height of 2.10 meters. Data: building data provided by urban planning au­ thorities

FAR: Floor area ratio = density factor The density factor based on the FAR is calculated from the sum of floor areas above ground (including floor areas in attic stories with a defined minimum height of 2.10 meters) of all buildings within a perim­ eter in relation to the total area of that perimeter. Sum of floor areas of all buildings Total area of the urban perimeter

Data: survey data (GIS data sets) and building data provided by the urban planning authorities

OD: Occupation density The occupation density is calculated from the number of residents per 100 square meters of floor area. Based on the population data, the maps present a detailed picture of occupation density per parcel or per building block. Number of residents 100

m2

 = OD (m2)

Data: official city statistics

PRS: Private space The PRS is the percentage of all private spaces (parcels) in relation to the total area of the perimeter. All private spaces Total area of the perimeter

  =  density factor    (FAR)

Floor areas: sum of areas on individual floors (exteri­ or building measurements) Floors included in the calculation: all above ground floors (full floors). Areas in attic stories with a defined minimum room height of 2.10 meters are recorded separately. Calculation: ground plan area (exterior building measurement based on official survey data) multi­ plied by the number of floors plus applicable attic floor areas Perimeter area: all parcel areas recorded according to the guidelines of the survey and the sum of all public areas Data: official survey data (GIS data set), building data and statistics on number of floors and attic story areas provided by urban planning authorities

H: Building height In general, the eaves heights of the buildings are measured in meters (m).

 =  PRS (%)

Data: official survey data (GIS data set) provided by the urban planning authorities on the distribution of public spaces

PS: Public space The PS describes the percentage of all public spaces (streets, squares, parks) in relation to the total area of the perimeter. All public spaces Total area of the perimeter

 =  PS (%)

Data: official survey data (GIS data set) provided by the urban planning authorities on the distribution of public spaces

PT: Population turnover The PT value is calculated from the number of people relocating to, away from, and within a perimeter over a defined period (determination of mean value based on data from the years 1996, 2001, and 2006) as a percentage in relation to the number residents in the perimeter. Number of relocations to, away from, and within Number of residents in the perimeter

 =  PT (%)

244 Data: official city statistics (measurement of pop­ ulation numbers with relocations to, away from, and within the district and corresponding length of residence over a defined period of time)

PU: Public use and ground floor use The data available from the cities on the type of use of ground floors as well as information on different types of use and classification within the building blocks are cartographically represented with the aim of emphasizing public uses. The data vary from city to city — at times quite consi­ derably. In cases where no information on ground floor use is contained in the archives, the principal use of the building is shown. Hence (public) ground floor uses are frequently not taken into consideration because the usage type is not the main focus in the building. The maps showing the main uses of the buildings cannot be directly compared to the maps that trace the ground floor uses. Data: information provided by the urban planning authorities

The RP value is calculated as a percentage of the rental price according to the rent index (gross rent in Euros per square meter and year) in relation to the average rental price in the city (average gross rent in Euros per square meter and year). Rental price according to rent index

 =  RP (%)

Data: benchmarks provided by real estate companies as well as data from the statistics gathered and recorded by the authorities for urban and spatial development

The site occupancy index is calculated from the sum of the areas occupied by all buildings (site areas) within the perimeter in relation to the total area of the perimeter.

Total area of urban perimeter

Data: official survey data (GIS data set) provided by the urban planning authorities

UA: Undeveloped area The UA describes the percentage of all non–built-up areas in relation to the total area of the perimeter. All undeveloped areas Total area of perimeter

 =  UA (%)

Data: official survey data (GIS data set), information provided by the urban planning authorities on parcel division and the distribution of public spaces

VAR: Volume-to-area ratio

Sum of all building volumes Total area of urban perimeter

 =  VAR

Volume: only above ground volumes are calculated. With regard to attic spaces, only rooms with a minimum height of 2.10 meters are included in the calculation. Calculation: building area (external building meas­ urements, survey data) multiplied by building height (eaves height); plus volume of attic space where applicable: attic area multiplied by height (defined minimum height) Parcel areas: all parcel areas recorded in accordance with the survey guidelines

SOI: Site occupancy index

Sum of all site areas

Perimeter area: all parcel areas recorded according to the guidelines of the survey and the sum of all public areas

The VAR value is calculated from the sum of all building volumes within the perimeter in relation to the total area of the perimeter.

RP: Rental price

Average rental price in the city

measurements of all buildings and building volumes with a solid foundation and a specific minimum size)

=  SOI

Site areas: all above-ground areas recorded in accordance with the survey guidelines (exterior

Data: survey data (GIS data records) and building data provided by the urban planning authorities

YC: Year of construction The year of construction (YC) of the buildings within the perimeter is indicated by urban block or for individual buildings, depending on the state of the data available.

245 Data: building data (GIS data set), documentation maps (Berlin)

The District Photographs Each of the 36 urban districts was photographed in a standardized format to ensure comparability of all perimeters. In each perimeter, the street spaces were photo­ graphed with the identical height of camera view­ point, in central perspective format, taken at the same time of day under similar weather conditions. The same applies to the photographs of the private exterior spaces in the district. Photographer: Michael Heinrich, Munich

The Aerial Images The aerial images are true-to-scale orthophotographs represented on a scale of 1 :   5 000. Data: land surveying offices of the cities The Plans All perimeter plans are reproduced on a scale of 1 :  5 000. The four figure-ground plans of the respective urban areas in their entirety are reproduced on a scale of 1 :  90 000.

Relevant Years of the Data The information on the four cities for the data mentioned above dates from the following years:

Berlin 2011 Munich 2008 Vienna 2010 Zurich 2008

Michael Heinrich’s photographs were taken in 2010 and 2011.

Figure-Ground Plan, Berlin Scale 1 :  90 000

Figure-Ground Plan, Munich Scale 1 :  90 000

Figure-Ground Plan, Vienna Scale 1 :  90 000

Figure-Ground Plan, Zurich Scale 1 :  90 000

1

Density Category 1

( < 0.4 )

 Privatstraße, — Munich —  Waldstraße, — Vienna —  Schippergasse, — Zurich —  Im Heimgärtli Berlin —

(0.23)

(0.36)

(0.31)

(0.30)

256

Berlin, Privatstraße (0.23)

Munich, Waldstraße (0.36)

Density Category 1

District Photographs 1

257

Vienna, Schippergasse (0.31)

Zurich, Im Heimgärtli (0.30)

258

Berlin, Privatstraße (0.23)

Munich, Waldstraße (0.36)

Density Category 1

District Photographs 1

259

Vienna, Schippergasse (0.31)

Zurich, Im Heimgärtli (0.30)

260

Berlin, Privatstraße (0.23)

Munich, Waldstraße (0.36)

Density Category 1

District Photographs 1

261

Vienna, Schippergasse (0.31)

Zurich, Im Heimgärtli (0.30)

262

Berlin, Privatstraße (0.23)

Munich, Waldstraße (0.36)

Density Category 1

263

Aerial Images 1

Scale 1 :  5 000

Vienna, Schippergasse (0.31)

Zurich, Im Heimgärtli (0.30)

264

Berlin, Privatstraße (0.23)

Munich, Waldstraße (0.36)

Density Category 1

265

Figure-Ground Plans 1

Scale 1 :  5 000

Vienna, Schippergasse (0.31)

Zurich, Im Heimgärtli (0.30)

266

Berlin, Privatstraße (0.23)

Munich, Waldstraße (0.36)

Density Category 1

267

Scale 1 :  5 000

Vienna, Schippergasse (0.31)

Zurich, Im Heimgärtli (0.30) Public Space (PS)

Private Space (PRS)

Development

1

Parcels, Undeveloped Area (UA), Private Space (PRS), Public Space (PS)

268

Berlin, Privatstraße (0.23)

Munich, Waldstraße (0.36)

Density Category 1

269

Floor Area Ratio (FAR)

1

Scale 1 :  5 000

Vienna, Schippergasse (0.31)

Zurich, Im Heimgärtli (0.30) no data

undeveloped

> 0.0 — 0.45

> 0.45 — 0.7

> 0.7 — 0.9

> 0.9 — 1.1

> 1.1 — 1.

> 1.5 — 2.0

> 2.0 — 3.0

> 3.0 — 4.0

> 4.0

270

Berlin, Privatstraße (0.23)

Munich, Waldstraße (0.36)

Density Category 1

271

Site Occupancy Index (SOI)

1

Scale 1 :  5 000

Vienna, Schippergasse (0.31)

Zurich, Im Heimgärtli (0.30) no data

undeveloped

> 0.0 — 0.2

0.2 — 0.4

> 0.4 — 0.6

0.4 — 0.6

> 0.8 — 1.0

272

Berlin, Privatstraße (0.23)

Munich, Waldstraße (0.36)

Density Category 1

273

Building Height (H) Number of Floors (F)

1

Scale 1 :  5 000

Vienna, Schippergasse (0.31)

Zurich, Im Heimgärtli (0.30) no data

< 5 m

> 5— 8 m

> 8 — 11.5m

> 11.5 — 15m

> 15 — 18.5m

> 18.5

> 22 — 42m

> 42m

274

Berlin, Privatstraße (0.23)

Munich, Waldstraße (0.36)

Density Category 1

275

Occupation Density (OD)

1

Scale 1 :  5 000

Vienna, Schippergasse (0.31)

Zurich, Im Heimgärtli (0.30) no data

< 5 m

0.5 — 1

1 — 2

> 2

276

Berlin, Privatstraße (0.23)

Munich, Waldstraße (0.36)

Density Category 1

277

Population Turnover (PT)

1

Scale 1 :  5 000

Vienna, Schippergasse (0.31)

Zurich, Im Heimgärtli (0.30) no data

0% — 20%

> 20% — 40%

> 40% — 50%

> 50% — 70%

278

Berlin, Privatstraße (0.23)

Munich, Waldstraße (0.36)

Density Category 1

279

Public Use and Ground-Floor Use (PU)

1

Scale 1 :  5 000

Vienna, Schippergasse (0.31)

Zurich, Im Heimgärtli (0.30) no data

housing

mixed occupancy

admin., offices

retail, services

public buildings

warehouses

trade, industry

traffic, garages, parking

280

Density Category 1

UA: Undeveloped Area (%) PS: Public Space (%) PRS: Private Space (%) FAR: Floor Area Ratio SOI: Site Occupancy Index VAR: Volume-to-Area Ratio H: Building Height F: Number of Floors OD: Occupation Density (m2) RP: Rental Price (%) PT: Population Turnover (%) PU: Public Use and Ground-Floor Use (%) YC: Year of Construction

100% Ø 98.6% 84.2% Ø 72.6%

Ø 73.4m2 68.1m 2

69.8% Ø 13.9m

Ø 1.62

Ø 67.3%

Ø 5.2

Ø 49.8%

40.2%

Ø 3.86 Ø 0.28

Ø 22.8%

4.2m

0.16

14.4%

UA

PRS

PS

1.5

Ø 11.5%

0.80

0.23 FAR

SOI

VAR

H

F

OD

RP

0.0% PU

PT

— YC

Berlin, Privatstraße (0.23)

310.5m 2

Ø 151.5m 2 137.7%

Ø 101.5%

1971—

94.9% 81.2% 69.4%

Ø 67.2%

1951—1970 Ø 51.0% Ø 1.33

Ø 44.7%

Ø 4.16 Ø 9.0m

Ø 0.33

1921—1950

Ø 22.5%

0.18

12.4%

UA

PS

Ø 3.4

0.36

PRS

FAR

Munich, Waldstraße (0.36)

1.09

SOI

VAR

3.8m

1.8

H

F

Ø 18.4%

OD

RP

PT

0.0% PU

YC

Evaluation Diagrams 1

281

118.0m 2

100% Ø Ø 95.2% 98.6% 84.2% 80.5% Ø 72.6%

Ø 79.5m 2 Ø 73.4m2 68.1m 2

69.8% 64.7%

Ø 63.5%

Ø 13.9m

Ø 1.62 Ø 49.8%

Ø 1.43

Ø 41.0%

UA

0.19 0.16

SOI

1951—1970

Ø 5.2 40.2%

Ø 8.8m

Ø 3.1

1921—1950

Ø 21.7% 0.89 0.80

FAR

Ø 67.3%

Ø 0.28

0.31 0.23 PRS

PS

Ø 4.41 Ø 3.86

Ø 0.36

Ø 22.8% 22.5% 15.8% 14.4%

1971—

VAR

4.2m 3.5m

1.5 1.4

H

F

12.1%

OD

— RP

Ø 13.8% Ø 11.5% 0.0% 0.2% PU

PT

1801—1920 — YC

Vienna, Schippergasse (0.31)

2 2 Ø 525.6m 310.5m

Ø 151.5m 2 137.7%

Ø 115.0% 109.8% Ø 101.5%

1971—

94.9%

1951—1970 82.7% 81.2%

1921—1950

Ø 71.5% Ø 67.2%

69.4% 68.4%

Ø 49.5% Ø 44.7%

Ø 1.40 Ø 1.33

Ø 22.5% 22.0% 14.3% 12.4%

PS

0.36 0.30 PRS

FAR

Ø 9.0m

Zurich, Im Heimgärtli (0.30)

Ø 51.0% Ø 41.6%

Ø 3.4

6.6m

0.18 0.17 1.09 0.93 SOI

1951—1970

Ø 4.6

Ø Ø 4.27 4.16 Ø 0.33 Ø 0.28

UA

65.6m 2

Ø 15.6m

VAR

3.8m

1.8 1.8

H

F

Ø Ø 20.2% 18.4%

1921—1950

12.2%

OD

RP

PT

0.0% PU

1801—1920 YC

Density Category  2

(0.4 — 0.6)

 Drake­straße, — Munich —   Reindlstraße, ­— Vienna —   Pilo­ tengasse, — Zurich —  Schlössli­ straße (0.41)

(0.47)

(0.43)

(0.44)

2

 Berlin —

284

Berlin, Drakestraße (0.41)

Munich, Reindlstraße (0.47)

Density Category 2

District Photographs

2

285

Vienna, Pilotengasse (0.43)

Zurich, Schlösslistraße (0.44)

286

Berlin, Drakestraße (0.41)

Munich, Reindlstraße (0.47)

Density Category 2

District Photographs

2

287

Vienna, Pilotengasse (0.43)

Zurich, Schlösslistraße (0.44)

288

Berlin, Drakestraße (0.41)

Munich, Reindlstraße (0.47)

Density Category 2

District Photographs

2

289

Vienna, Pilotengasse (0.43)

Zurich, Schlösslistraße (0.44)

290

Berlin, Drakestraße (0.41)

Munich, Reindlstraße (0.47)

Density Category 2

291

Aerial Images

2

Scale 1 :  5 000

Vienna, Pilotengasse (0.43)

Zurich, Schlösslistraße (0.44)

292

Berlin, Drakestraße (0.41)

Munich, Reindlstraße (0.47)

Density Category 2

293

Figure-Ground Plans

2

Scale 1 :  5 000

Vienna, Pilotengasse (0.43)

Zurich, Schlösslistraße (0.44)

294

Berlin, Drakestraße (0.41)

Munich, Reindlstraße (0.47)

Density Category 2

295

Parcels, Undeveloped Area (UA), Private Space (PRS), Public Space (PS)

2

Scale 1 :  5 000

Vienna, Pilotengasse (0.43)

Zurich, Schlösslistraße (0.44) Public Space (PS)

Private Space (PRS)

Development

296

Berlin, Drakestraße (0.41)

Munich, Reindlstraße (0.47)

Density Category 2

297

Floor Area Ratio (FAR)

2

Scale 1 :  5 000

Vienna, Pilotengasse (0.43)

Zurich, Schlösslistraße (0.44) no data

undeveloped

> 0.0 — 0.45

> 0.45 — 0.7

> 0.7 — 0.9

> 0.9 — 1.1

> 1.1 — 1.

> 1.5 — 2.0

> 2.0 — 3.0

> 3.0 — 4.0

> 4.0

298

Berlin, Drakestraße (0.41)

Munich, Reindlstraße (0.47)

Density Category 2

299

Site Occupancy Index (SOI)

2

Scale 1 :  5 000

Vienna, Pilotengasse (0.43)

Zurich, Schlösslistraße (0.44) no data

undeveloped

> 0.0 — 0.2

0.2 — 0.4

> 0.4 — 0.6

0.4 — 0.6

> 0.8 — 1.0

300

Berlin, Drakestraße (0.41)

Munich, Reindlstraße (0.47)

Density Category 2

301

Building Height (H) Number of Floors (F)

2

Scale 1 :  5 000

Vienna, Pilotengasse (0.43)

Zurich, Schlösslistraße (0.44) no data

< 5 m

> 5— 8 m

> 8 — 11.5m

> 11.5 — 15m

> 15 — 18.5m

> 18.5

> 22 — 42m

> 42m

302

Berlin, Drakestraße (0.41)

Munich, Reindlstraße (0.47)

Density Category 2

303

Occupation Density (OD)

2

Scale 1 :  5 000

Vienna, Pilotengasse (0.43)

Zurich, Schlösslistraße (0.44) no data

< 5 m

0.5 — 1

1 — 2

> 2

304

Berlin, Drakestraße (0.41)

Munich, Reindlstraße (0.47)

Density Category 2

305

Population Turnover (PT)

2

Scale 1 :  5 000

Vienna, Pilotengasse (0.43)

Zurich, Schlösslistraße (0.44) no data

0% — 20%

> 20% — 40%

> 40% — 50%

> 50% — 70%

306

Berlin, Drakestraße (0.41)

Munich, Reindlstraße (0.47)

Density Category 2

307

Public Use and Ground-Floor Use (PU)

2

Scale 1 :  5 000

Vienna, Pilotengasse (0.43)

Zurich, Schlösslistraße (0.44) no data

housing

mixed occupancy

administration, retail, offices services

public buildings

warehouses

trade, industry

traffic, garages, parking

308

Density Category 2

UA: Undeveloped Area (%) PS: Public Space (%) PRS: Private Space (%) FAR: Floor Area Ratio SOI: Site Occupancy Index VAR: Volume-to-Area Ratio H: Building Height F: Number of Floors OD: Occupation Density (m2) RP: Rental Price (%) PT: Population Turnover (%) PU: Public Use and Ground Floor Use (%) YC: Year of Construction

100% Ø 98.6% 94.3% Ø 98.6% 84.2% 80.3% Ø 72.6%

Ø 73.4m2 68.1m 2 70.5m 2

69.8% 65.0% Ø 13.9m

Ø 1.62

Ø 5.2

Ø 49.8% Ø 3.86 Ø 0.28

Ø 22.8% 15.3% 14.4%

UA

PS

PRS

0.41 0.23

0.16 0.2

FAR

SOI

Ø 67.3% 56.3%

40.2%

8.9m

2.2

2.2 4.2m

1.5

Ø 11.5%

0.80 VAR

H

F

OD

RP

PT

3.8% 0.0% PU

— YC

Berlin, Drakestraße (0.41)

310.5m2

Ø 151.5m 2 137.7%

Ø 101.5% 96.6% 94.9%

1971— 1921—1950

81.2% 77.2% 69.4%

Ø 67.2%

1951—1970 56.1% Ø 51.0%

53.2% Ø 1.33

Ø 44.7%

Ø 4.16 Ø 9.0m

Ø 0.33 24.1% Ø 22.5% Ø 22.5% 12.4%

UA

PS

0.47 0.36

PRS

FAR

Munich, Reindlstraße (0.47)

0.23 0.18

34.3m 2 1921—1950

2.2 1.09

SOI

Ø 3.4

3.8m

0.44

1.6m

VAR

H

Ø 18.4%

1.8

F

OD

RP

PT

1.5% 0.0% PU

YC

Evaluation Diagrams

2

309

1971—

100% Ø Ø 95.2% 98.6% 84.2% 77.8% Ø 72.6%

Ø 79.5m 2 Ø 73.4m2 68.1m 2

69.8% 64.4%

Ø 63.5%

Ø 13.9m

Ø 1.62 Ø 49.8%

Ø 1.43

Ø 41.0%

Ø 0.36 0.22 Ø 0.28 0.16

Ø 22.8% 22.5% 0.43

14.4% 13.4%

0.23 UA

PRS

PS

Ø 4.41 Ø 3.86

FAR

SOI

1.29 0.80 VAR

Ø 67.3%

59.4m 2 Ø 5.2 40.2%

Ø 8.8m

Ø 3.1 Ø 21.7%

4.8m 4.2m

1.6 1.5

H

F

9.3%

OD

— RP

Ø 13.8% Ø 11.5% 0.0% PU

PT

— YC

Vienna, Pilotengasse (0.43)

2 2 Ø 525.6m 310.5m

Ø 151.5m 2 142.3%

115.7m 2

137.7%

Ø 115.0% Ø 101.5%

1971—

94.9%

1951—1970

84.7% 81.2% Ø 71.5% Ø 67.2%

70.9% 69.4%

Ø 49.5% Ø 44.7%

Ø 1.40 Ø 1.33

Ø Ø 4.27 4.16

Ø 22.5% 22.0% 0.44 0.36

13.7% 12.4%

PS

PRS

FAR

Zurich, Schlösslistraße (0.44)

0.18 0.15

SOI

Ø 51.0%

Ø 4.6

11.3m Ø 9.0m

Ø 0.33 Ø 0.28

UA

1921—1950 1951—1970

Ø 15.6m

3.0

Ø 41.6%

Ø 3.4 23.1%

1.46 1.09

3.8m

1.8

VAR

H

F

OD

RP

PT

Ø Ø 20.2% 18.4%

2.1% 0.0% PU

1921—1950 1801—1920 —1800 YC

Density Category 3

( 0.6  —  0.9 )



 Hochsitzweg, — Munich —  Quidde­straße, — Vienna —  La­rochegasse, — Zurich —  Altwiesenstraße

Berlin —

(0.93)

(0.80)

(0.61)

3

(0.70)

312

Berlin, Hochsitzweg (0.63)

Munich, Quiddestraße (0.80)

Density Category 3

District Photographs

3

313

Vienna, Larochegasse (0.70)

Zurich, Altwiesenstraße (0.61)

314

Berlin, Hochsitzweg (0.63)

Munich, Quiddestraße (0.80)

Density Category 3

District Photographs

3

315

Vienna, Larochegasse (0.70)

Zurich, Altwiesenstraße (0.61)

316

Berlin, Hochsitzweg (0.63)

Munich, Quiddestraße (0.80)

Density Category 3

District Photographs

3

317

Vienna, Larochegasse (0.70)

Zurich, Altwiesenstraße (0.61)

318

Berlin, Hochsitzweg (0.63)

Munich, Quiddestraße (0.80)

Density Category 3

319

Aerial Images

3

Scale 1 :  5 000

Vienna, Larochegasse (0.70)

Zurich, Altwiesenstraße (0.61)

320

Berlin, Hochsitzweg (0.63)

Munich, Quiddestraße (0.80)

Density Category 3

321

Figure-Ground Plans

3

Scale 1 :  5 000

Vienna, Larochegasse (0.70)

Zurich, Altwiesenstraße (0.61)

322

Berlin, Hochsitzweg (0.63)

Munich, Quiddestraße (0.80)

Density Category 3

323

Parcels, Undeveloped Area (UA), Private Space (PRS), Public Space (PS)

3

Scale 1 :  5 000

Vienna, Larochegasse (0.70)

Zurich, Altwiesenstraße (0.61) Public Space (PS)

Private Space (PRS)

Development

324

Berlin, Hochsitzweg (0.63)

Munich, Quiddestraße (0.80)

Density Category 3

325

Floor Area Ratio (FAR)

3

Scale 1 :  5 000

Vienna, Larochegasse (0.70)

Zurich, Altwiesenstraße (0.61) no data

undeveloped

> 0.0 — 0.45

> 0.45 — 0.7

> 0.7 — 0.9

> 0.9 — 1.1

> 1.1 — 1.

> 1.5 — 2.0

> 2.0 — 3.0

> 3.0 — 4.0

> 4.0

326

Berlin, Hochsitzweg (0.63)

Munich, Quiddestraße (0.80)

Density Category 3

327

Site Occupancy Index (SOI)

3

Scale 1 :  5 000

Vienna, Larochegasse (0.70)

Zurich, Altwiesenstraße (0.61) no data

undeveloped

> 0.0 — 0.2

0.2 — 0.4

> 0.4 — 0.6

0.4 — 0.6

> 0.8 — 1.0

328

Berlin, Hochsitzweg (0.63)

Munich, Quiddestraße (0.80)

Density Category 3

329

Building Height (H) Number of Floors (F)

3

Scale 1 :  5 000

Vienna, Larochegasse (0.70)

Zurich, Altwiesenstraße (0.61) no data

< 5 m

> 5— 8 m

> 8 — 11.5m

> 11.5 — 15m

> 15 — 18.5m

> 18.5

> 22 — 42m

> 42m

330

Berlin, Hochsitzweg (0.63)

Munich, Quiddestraße (0.80)

Density Category 3

331

Occupation Density (OD)

3

Scale 1 :  5 000

Vienna, Larochegasse (0.70)

Zurich, Altwiesenstraße (0.61) no data

< 5 m

0.5 — 1

1 — 2

> 2

332

Berlin, Hochsitzweg (0.63)

Munich, Quiddestraße (0.80)

Density Category 3

333

Population Turnover (PT)

3

Scale 1 :  5 000

Vienna, Larochegasse (0.70)

Zurich, Altwiesenstraße (0.61) no data

0% — 20%

> 20% — 40%

> 40% — 50%

> 50% — 70%

334

Berlin, Hochsitzweg (0.63)

Munich, Quiddestraße (0.80)

Density Category 3

335

Public Use and Ground-Floor Use (PU)

3

Scale 1 :  5 000

Vienna, Larochegasse (0.70)

Zurich, Altwiesenstraße (0.61) no data

housing

mixed occupancy

admin., offices

retail, services

public buildings

warehouses

trade, industry

traffic, garages, parking

336

Density Category 3

UA: Undeveloped Area (%) PS: Public Space (%) PRS: Private Space (%) FAR: Floor Area Ratio SOI: Site Occupancy Index VAR: Volume-to-Area Ratio H: Building Height F: Number of Floors OD: Occupation Density (m2) RP: Rental Price (%) PT: Population Turnover (%) PU: Public Use and Ground Floor Use (%) YC: Year of Construction

100% Ø 98.6% 94.3% Ø 98.6%

1921—1950

84.2% 77.4% Ø 72.6%

Ø 73.4m2 68.1m 2 66.3m 2

69.8% 56.5%

Ø 13.9m

Ø 1.62

Ø 5.2

Ø 49.8% Ø 3.86

Ø 22.8% 20.9% 14.4%

0.23 Ø 0.28

0.63

PS

PRS

47.7%

10.7m

2.45

40.2% 2.5

4.2m

0.16

1.5

Ø 11.5%

0.80

0.23 UA

Ø 67.3%

FAR

SOI

VAR

H

F

OD

RP

0.0% PU

PT

— YC

Berlin, Hochsitzweg (0.63)

310.5m2

Ø 151.5m 2 137.7%

Ø 101.5%

1951—1970 1971—

94.9% 93.2% 86.6% 81.2% 69.9% 69.4%

Ø 67.2%

1951—1970

15.6m 5.5 Ø 1.33

Ø 44.7%

Ø 4.16 Ø 9.0m

Ø 0.33 0.80

Ø 22.5% 16.7% 12.4%

UA

PS

PRS

0.36

0.18 0.13

FAR

SOI

Munich, Quiddestraße (0.80)

Ø 51.0%

Ø 3.4

39.0m 2

2.27 1.09

VAR

3.8m

1.8

H

F

19.6%

OD

RP

PT

1921—1950 Ø 18.4% 4.9% 0.0% PU

YC

337

Evaluation Diagrams

103.4% 100% Ø Ø 95.2% 98.6% 84.2% 75.2% Ø 72.6%

1971—

Ø 79.5m 2 Ø 73.4m2 68.1m 2

69.8%

Ø 67.3%

Ø 63.5% Ø 13.9m

Ø 1.62

52.7% Ø 49.8%

Ø 1.43

Ø 41.0%

Ø 0.36 0.25 Ø 0.28

0.70

Ø 22.8% 22.5% 22.5% 14.4%

PRS

PS

Ø 5.2

Ø 3.1 2.2

4.2m

1.5

H

F

Ø 21.7% 16.1%

0.80

FAR

SOI

VAR

1801—1920

40.2%

Ø 8.8m 6.4m

2.23

0.16 0.23

UA

Ø 4.41 Ø 3.86

1951—1970

OD

RP

Ø 13.8% Ø 11.5% 1.2% 0.0% PU

PT

— YC

Vienna, Larochegasse (0.70)

2 2 Ø 525.6m 310.5m

Ø 151.5m 2 137.7%

Ø 115.0% Ø 101.5%

1971—

94.9% 92.5% 81.2% 80.3% Ø 71.5% Ø 67.2%

69.4% 67.2%

Ø 49.5% Ø 44.7%

52.8m

Ø 1.40 Ø 1.33

Ø Ø 4.27 4.16 Ø 0.33 Ø 0.28

Ø 22.5% 22.0%

0.61

13.1% 12.4%

UA

PS

0.20 0.18

0.36

PRS

1951—1970

Ø 15.6m

FAR

Zurich, Altwiesenstraße (0.61)

1.84 1.09

SOI

VAR

2

Ø 51.0%

Ø 4.6 10.0m Ø 9.0m

3.4

3.8m

1.8

H

F

Ø 41.6%

Ø 3.4

18.4%

OD

RP

PT

Ø Ø 20.2% 18.4%

2.75% 0.0% PU

1951—1970 1921—1950

YC

3

113.8m 2

Density Category 4

( 0.9  — 1.2 )

Berlin —  Goebelstraße, — Munich —  Konrad-DreherStraße, — Vienna —  Prinzgasse, — Zurich —  Meierwiesenstraße (0.93)

(1.03)

(1.01)

4

(1.18)

340

Berlin, Goebelstraße (0.93)

Munich, Konrad-Dreher-Straße (1.03)

Density Category 4

District Photographs

4

341

Vienna, Prinzgasse (1.01)

Zurich, Meierwiesenstraße (1.18)

342

Berlin, Goebelstraße (0.93)

Munich, Konrad-Dreher-Straße (1.03)

Density Category 4

District Photographs

4

343

Vienna, Prinzgasse (1.01)

Zurich, Meierwiesenstraße (1.18)

344

Berlin, Goebelstraße (0.93)

Munich, Konrad-Dreher-Straße (1.03)

Density Category 4

District Photographs

4

345

Vienna, Prinzgasse (1.01)

Zurich, Meierwiesenstraße (1.18)

346

Berlin, Goebelstraße (0.93)

Munich, Konrad-Dreher-Straße (1.03)

Density Category 4

347

Aerial Images

4

Scale 1 :  5 000

Vienna, Prinzgasse (1.01)

Zurich, Meierwiesenstraße (1.18)

348

Berlin, Goebelstraße (0.93)

Munich, Konrad-Dreher-Straße (1.03)

Density Category 4

349

Figure-Ground Plans

4

Scale 1 :  5 000

Vienna, Prinzgasse (1.01)

Zurich, Meierwiesenstraße (1.18)

350

Berlin, Goebelstraße (0.93)

Munich, Konrad-Dreher-Straße (1.03)

Density Category 4

351

Parcels, Undeveloped Area (UA), Private Space (PRS), Public Space (PS)

4

Scale 1 :  5 000

Vienna, Prinzgasse (1.01)

Zurich, Meierwiesenstraße (1.18) Public Space (PS)

Private Space (PRS)

Development

352

Berlin, Goebelstraße (0.93)

Munich, Konrad-Dreher-Straße (1.03)

Density Category 4

353

Floor Area Ratio (FAR)

4

Scale 1 :  5 000

Vienna, Prinzgasse (1.01)

Zurich, Meierwiesenstraße (1.18) no data

undeveloped

> 0.0 — 0.45

> 0.45 — 0.7

> 0.7 — 0.9

> 0.9 — 1.1

> 1.1 — 1.

> 1.5 — 2.0

> 2.0 — 3.0

> 3.0 — 4.0

> 4.0

354

Berlin, Goebelstraße (0.93)

Munich, Konrad-Dreher-Straße (1.03)

Density Category 4

355

Site Occupancy Index (SOI)

4

Scale 1 :  5 000

Vienna, Prinzgasse (1.01)

Zurich, Meierwiesenstraße (1.18) no data

undeveloped

> 0.0 — 0.2

0.2 — 0.4

> 0.4 — 0.6

0.4 — 0.6

> 0.8 — 1.0

356

Berlin, Goebelstraße (0.93)

Munich, Konrad-Dreher-Straße (1.03)

Density Category 4

357

Building Height (H) Number of Floors (F)

4

Scale 1 :  5 000

Vienna, Prinzgasse (1.01)

Zurich, Meierwiesenstraße (1.18) no data

< 5 m

> 5— 8 m

> 8 — 11.5m

> 11.5 — 15m

> 15 — 18.5m

> 18.5

> 22 — 42m

> 42m

358

Berlin, Goebelstraße (0.93)

Munich, Konrad-Dreher-Straße (1.03)

Density Category 4

359

Occupation Density (OD)

4

Scale 1 :  5 000

Vienna, Prinzgasse (1.01)

Zurich, Meierwiesenstraße (1.18) no data

< 5 m

0.5 — 1

1 — 2

> 2

360

Berlin, Goebelstraße (0.93)

Munich, Konrad-Dreher-Straße (1.03)

Density Category 4

361

Population Turnover (PT)

4

Scale 1 :  5 000

Vienna, Prinzgasse (1.01)

Zurich, Meierwiesenstraße (1.18) no data

0% — 20%

> 20% — 40%

> 40% — 50%

> 50% — 70%

362

Berlin, Goebelstraße (0.93)

Munich, Konrad-Dreher-Straße (1.03)

Density Category 4

363

Public Use and Ground-Floor Use (PU)

4

Scale 1 :  5 000

Vienna, Prinzgasse (1.01)

Zurich, Meierwiesenstraße (1.18) no data

housing

mixed occupancy

admin., offices

retail, services

public buildings

warehouses

trade, industry

traffic, garages, parking

364

Density Category 4

UA: Undeveloped Area (%) PS: Public Space (%) PRS: Private Space (%) FAR: Floor Area Ratio SOI: Site Occupancy Index VAR: Volume-to-Area Ratio H: Building Height F: Number of Floors OD: Occupation Density (m2) RP: Rental Price (%) PT: Population Turnover (%) PU: Public Use and Ground Floor Use (%) YC: Year of Construction

103.2% 100% Ø 98.6% Ø 98.6% 84.2% 82.3%

1921—1950

81.6m 2

Ø 72.6%

Ø 73.4m2 68.1m 2

69.8% 66.9% Ø 13.9m 12.7m

Ø 1.62 Ø 49.8%

5.5

Ø 67.3% 66.3%

Ø 5.2 Ø 5.2 40.2%

Ø 3.86 0.93 Ø 0.28

Ø 22.8% 15.4% 14.4%

4.2m

PRS

PS

1.5

Ø 11.5%

0.80

0.23 UA

2.79

0.18 0.16

FAR

SOI

VAR

H

F

OD

RP

1.6% 0.0% PU

PT

— YC

Berlin, Goebelstraße (0.93)

310.5m2

Ø 151.5m 2 137.7%

Ø 101.5% 96.6% 94.9%

1971—

81.2% 76.9% 69.4%

Ø 67.2%

1951—1970

62.4% Ø 51.0% Ø 1.33

Ø 44.7%

Ø 4.16

1.03 Ø 22.5%

PS

3.07

0.23 0.18

14.5% 12.4%

UA

Ø 0.33

0.36

PRS

FAR

1.09

SOI

Munich, Konrad-Dreher-Straße (1.03)

VAR

4.3 9.4m Ø 9.0m Ø 9.0m

40.1m2 Ø 3.4

3.8m

1.8

H

F

14.1%

OD

RP

PT

Ø 18.4% 5.3% 0.0% PU

1921—1950 1951—1970

YC

365

Evaluation Diagrams

100% Ø Ø 95.2% 98.6% 84.8% 84.2%

Ø 79.5m 2 Ø 73.4m2 68.1m 2

69.8% 69.6%

Ø 67.3%

Ø 63.5% Ø 13.9m 13.9m

Ø 1.62 Ø 49.8%

Ø 1.43

Ø 41.0%

Ø 0.36

1.01

3.06 4.2m

0.16 0.15

15.2% 14.4%

Ø 3.1

PRS

Ø 21.7% 16.2%

1.5

0.80

0.23 PS

40.2%

Ø 8.8m

Ø 0.28

Ø 22.8% 22.5%

UA

Ø 5.2 4.6

Ø 4.41 Ø 3.86

FAR

SOI

6.3m 2

VAR

H

F

OD

— RP

4

Ø 72.6%

1971—

15.6% Ø 11.5% Ø 13.8% 0.0% PU

PT

— YC

Vienna, Prinzgasse (1.01)

2 2 Ø 525.6m 310.5m

Ø 151.5m 2 137.7%

Ø 115.0% Ø 101.5%

1971—

94.9% 80.1m 2 74.4% 69.4%

Ø 71.5% Ø 67.2%

6.8

1951—1970

Ø 15.6m Ø 49.5% Ø 44.7%

Ø 1.40 Ø 1.33 1.18

Ø 22.5% 22.0% 12.4% 9.7% PS

0.36

PRS

FAR

0.18 0.16

SOI

Zurich, Meierwiesenstraße (1.18)

Ø 9.0m

VAR

Ø 41.6%

Ø 3.4

3.00

1.09

Ø 51.0%

Ø 4.6

Ø Ø 4.27 4.16 Ø 0.33 Ø 0.28

UA

87.7%

21.8m

84.1% 81.2%

25.3% 3.8m

1.8

H

F

Ø Ø 20.2% 18.4%

1921—1950

10.3% OD

RP

PT

0.0% PU

YC

Density Category 5

( 1.2  — 1.5 )

Berlin —  Senftenberger Ring, — Munich —  Holbeinstraße, — Vienna — Ringofenweg, — Zurich —  Scheuchzerstraße (1.44)

(1.37)

(1.31)

5

(1.28)

368

Berlin, Senftenberger Ring (1.44)

Munich, Holbeinstraße (1.37)

Density Category 5

369

District Photographs

5

Vienna, Ringofenweg (1.31)

Zurich, Scheuchzerstraße (1.28)

370

Berlin, Senftenberger Ring (1.44)

Munich, Holbeinstraße (1.37)

Density Category 5

371

District Photographs

5

Vienna, Ringofenweg (1.31)

Zurich, Scheuchzerstraße (1.28)

372

Berlin, Senftenberger Ring (1.44)

Munich, Holbeinstraße (1.37)

Density Category 5

373

District Photographs

5

Vienna, Ringofenweg (1.31)

Zurich, Scheuchzerstraße (1.28)

374

Berlin, Senftenberger Ring (1.44)

Munich, Holbeinstraße (1.37)

Density Category 5

375

Aerial Images Scale 1 :  5 000

5

Vienna, Ringofenweg (1.31)

Zurich, Scheuchzerstraße (1.28)

376

Berlin, Senftenberger Ring (1.44)

Munich, Holbeinstraße (1.37)

Density Category 5

377

Figure-Ground Plans Scale 1 :  5 000

5

Vienna, Ringofenweg (1.31)

Zurich, Scheuchzerstraße (1.28)

378

Berlin, Senftenberger Ring (1.44)

Munich, Holbeinstraße (1.37)

Density Category 5

379

Parcels, Undeveloped Area (UA), Private Space (PRS), Public Space (PS) Scale 1 :  5 000

5

Vienna, Ringofenweg (1.31)

Zurich, Scheuchzerstraße (1.28) Public Space (PS)

Private Space (PRS)

Development

380

Berlin, Senftenberger Ring (1.44)

Munich, Holbeinstraße (1.37)

Density Category 5

381

Floor Area Ratio (FAR) Scale 1 :  5 000

5

Vienna, Ringofenweg (1.31)

Zurich, Scheuchzerstraße (1.28) no data

undeveloped

> 0.0 — 0.45

> 0.45 — 0.7

> 0.7 — 0.9

> 0.9 — 1.1

> 1.1 — 1.

> 1.5 — 2.0

> 2.0 — 3.0

> 3.0 — 4.0

> 4.0

382

Berlin, Senftenberger Ring (1.44)

Munich, Holbeinstraße (1.37)

Density Category 5

383

Site Occupancy Index (SOI) Scale 1 :  5 000

5

Vienna, Ringofenweg (1.31)

Zurich, Scheuchzerstraße (1.28) no data

undeveloped

> 0.0 — 0.2

0.2 — 0.4

> 0.4 — 0.6

0.4 — 0.6

> 0.8 — 1.0

384

Berlin, Senftenberger Ring (1.44)

Munich, Holbeinstraße (1.37)

Density Category 5

385

Building Height (H) Number of Floors (F) Scale 1 :  5 000

5

Vienna, Ringofenweg (1.31)

Zurich, Scheuchzerstraße (1.28) no data

< 5 m

> 5— 8 m

> 8 — 11.5m

> 11.5 — 15m

> 15 — 18.5m

> 18.5

> 22 — 42m

> 42m

386

Berlin, Senftenberger Ring (1.44)

Munich, Holbeinstraße (1.37)

Density Category 5

387

Occupation Density (OD) Scale 1 :  5 000

5

Vienna, Ringofenweg (1.31)

Zurich, Scheuchzerstraße (1.28) no data

< 5 m

0.5 — 1

1 — 2

> 2

388

Berlin, Senftenberger Ring (1.44)

Munich, Holbeinstraße (1.37)

Density Category 5

389

Population Turnover (PT) Scale 1 :  5 000

5

Vienna, Ringofenweg (1.31)

Zurich, Scheuchzerstraße (1.28) no data

0% — 20%

> 20% — 40%

> 40% — 50%

> 50% — 70%

390

Berlin, Senftenberger Ring (1.44)

Munich, Holbeinstraße (1.37)

Density Category 5

391

Public Use and Ground-Floor Use (PU) Scale 1 :  5 000

5

Vienna, Ringofenweg (1.31)

Zurich, Scheuchzerstraße (1.28) no data

housing

mixed occupancy

admin., offices

retail, services

public buildings

warehouses

trade, industry

traffic, garages, parking

392

Density Category 5

UA: Undeveloped Area (%) PS: Public Space (%) PRS: Private Space (%) FAR: Floor Area Ratio SOI: Site Occupancy Index VAR: Volume-to-Area Ratio H: Building Height F: Number of Floors OD: Occupation Density (m2) RP: Rental Price (%) PT: Population Turnover (%) PU: Public Use and Ground Floor Use (%) YC: Year of Construction

12.1

103.2% 100% Ø 98.6% Ø 98.6%

24.5m

1971—

87.2% 84.2% 78.7% Ø 72.6%

Ø 73.4m2 68.1m 2

69.8% Ø 13.9m

Ø 1.62 Ø 49.8%

1.44 3.37

PS

57.8m2

40.2%

Ø 3.86

Ø 0.28

Ø 22.8% 14.4% 8.5% UA

Ø 5.2

73.6% Ø 67.3%

0.23 PRS

FAR

0.16 0.13

SOI

4.2m

1.5

Ø 11.5%

0.80 VAR

H

F

OD

RP

4.5% 0.0% PU

PT

— YC

Berlin, Senftenberger Ring (1.44)

310.5m2

Ø 151.5m 2 137.7%

112.9m2 103.5% Ø 101.5% Ø 101.5% 94.9%

1971— 1951—1970 1921—1950

81.2%

Ø 44.7% 43.3%

PS

Ø 4.16

0.18 0.36

PRS

FAR

Munich, Holbeinstraße (1.37)

Ø 51.0%

4.69

1.37 Ø 1.33 Ø 1.33 0.33 Ø 0.33 Ø 0.33

23.5% Ø 22.5% Ø 22.5% 12.4%

UA

1801—1920 1951—1970

69.4%

Ø 67.2% 66.9% Ø 67.2%

1.09

SOI

VAR

10.6m Ø 9.0m Ø 9.0m

3.8

3.8m

1.8

H

F

—1801

Ø 3.4 26.8%

1921—1950 Ø 18.4%

OD

RP

PT

3.9% 0.0% PU

YC

393

Evaluation Diagrams

115.3% 100% Ø Ø 95.2% 98.6% 84.2% Ø 72.6%

Ø 79.5m 2 Ø 73.4m2 68.1m 2

69.8%

64.3% Ø 63.5%

Ø 13.9m

Ø 1.62 Ø 49.8% 47.0% Ø 41.0%

1.31

Ø 1.43 0.36

Ø 4.41 3.86 Ø 3.86 Ø 0.36

8.3m

0.16

PRS

Ø 67.3%

56.4m 2

40.2% 3.2 Ø 3.1

4.2m

1.5

H

F

Ø 21.7% 12.7%

0.80

0.23 PS

Ø 8.8m

Ø 5.2

Ø 0.28

Ø 22.8% 22.5% 17.3% 14.4%

UA

1971—

FAR

SOI

VAR

OD

RP

Ø 13.8% Ø 11.5% 1.6% 0.0% PU

PT

— YC

5

Vienna, Ringofenweg (1.31)

2 2 Ø 525.6m 310.5m

Ø 151.5m 2 137.7% 123.7% Ø 115.0% Ø 101.5%

1971—

94.9%

1951—1970

81.2%

1921—1950

Ø 71.5% Ø 67.2% 68.8%

74.1m 2

69.4%

Ø 49.5% Ø 44.7% 46.8%

Ø 1.40 Ø 1.33

4.61

1.28

Ø Ø 4.27 4.16

4.2 Ø 9.0m

0.31 Ø 0.33 Ø 0.28 Ø 22.5% 22.0% Ø 22.0% 12.4%

UA

1801—1920 1951—1970

15.8m Ø 15.6m

PS

0.18 0.36

PRS

FAR

1.09

SOI

Zurich, Scheuchzerstraße (1.28)

VAR

Ø 51.0%

Ø 4.6

Ø 41.6%

Ø 3.4

3.8m

1.8

H

F

29.4% Ø Ø 20.2% 18.4%

OD

RP

PT

4.4% 0.0% PU

1921—1950

YC

Density Category 6 ( 1.5  — 1.9 ) Berlin —  Bonner Straße, — Munich —  Tumblingerstraße, — Vienna —  Hasnerstraße, — Zurich —  Bändliweg (1.53)

(1.78)

(1.62)

6

(1.55)

396

Berlin, Bonner Straße (1.53)

Munich, Tumblingerstraße (1.78)

Density Category 6

397

District Photographs

6

Vienna, Hasnerstraße (1.62)

Zurich, Bändliweg (1.55)

398

Berlin, Bonner Straße (1.53)

Munich, Tumblingerstraße (1.78)

Density Category 6

399

District Photographs

6

Vienna, Hasnerstraße (1.62)

Zurich, Bändliweg (1.55)

400

Berlin, Bonner Straße (1.53)

Munich, Tumblingerstraße (1.78)

Density Category 6

401

District Photographs

6

Vienna, Hasnerstraße (1.62)

Zurich, Bändliweg (1.55)

402

Berlin, Bonner Straße (1.53)

Munich, Tumblingerstraße (1.78)

Density Category 6

403

Aerial Images Scale 1 :  5 000

6

Vienna, Hasnerstraße (1.62)

Zurich, Bändliweg (1.55)

404

Berlin, Bonner Straße (1.53)

Munich, Tumblingerstraße (1.78)

Density Category 6

405

Figure-Ground Plans Scale 1 :  5 000

6

Vienna, Hasnerstraße (1.62)

Zurich, Bändliweg (1.55)

406

Berlin, Bonner Straße (1.53)

Munich, Tumblingerstraße (1.78)

Density Category 6

407

Parcels, Undeveloped Area (UA), Private Space (PRS), Public Space (PS) Scale 1 :  5 000

6

Vienna, Hasnerstraße (1.62)

Zurich, Bändliweg (1.55) Public Space (PS)

Private Space (PRS)

Development

408

Berlin, Bonner Straße (1.53)

Munich, Tumblingerstraße (1.78)

Density Category 6

409

Floor Area Ratio (FAR) Scale 1 :  5 000

6

Vienna, Hasnerstraße (1.62)

Zurich, Bändliweg (1.55) no data

undeveloped

> 0.0 — 0.45

> 0.45 — 0.7

> 0.7 — 0.9

> 0.9 — 1.1

> 1.1 — 1.

> 1.5 — 2.0

> 2.0 — 3.0

> 3.0 — 4.0

> 4.0

410

Berlin, Bonner Straße (1.53)

Munich, Tumblingerstraße (1.78)

Density Category 6

411

Site Occupancy Index (SOI) Scale 1 :  5 000

6

Vienna, Hasnerstraße (1.62)

Zurich, Bändliweg (1.55) no data

undeveloped

> 0.0 — 0.2

0.2 — 0.4

> 0.4 — 0.6

0.4 — 0.6

> 0.8 — 1.0

412

Berlin, Bonner Straße (1.53)

Munich, Tumblingerstraße (1.78)

Density Category 6

413

Building Height (H) Number of Floors (F) Scale 1 :  5 000

6

Vienna, Hasnerstraße (1.62)

Zurich, Bändliweg (1.55) no data

< 5 m

> 5— 8 m

> 8 — 11.5m

> 11.5 — 15m

> 15 — 18.5m

> 18.5

> 22 — 42m

> 42m

414

Berlin, Bonner Straße (1.53)

Munich, Tumblingerstraße (1.78)

Density Category 6

415

Occupation Density (OD) Scale 1 :  5 000

6

Vienna, Hasnerstraße (1.62)

Zurich, Bändliweg (1.55) no data

< 5 m

0.5 — 1

1 — 2

> 2

416

Berlin, Bonner Straße (1.53)

Munich, Tumblingerstraße (1.78)

Density Category 6

417

Population Turnover (PT) Scale 1 :  5 000

6

Vienna, Hasnerstraße (1.62)

Zurich, Bändliweg (1.55) no data

0% — 20%

> 20% — 40%

> 40% — 50%

> 50% — 70%

418

Berlin, Bonner Straße (1.53)

Munich, Tumblingerstraße (1.78)

Density Category 6

419

Public Use and Ground-Floor Use (PU) Scale 1 :  5 000

6

Vienna, Hasnerstraße (1.62)

Zurich, Bändliweg (1.55) no data

housing

mixed occupancy

admin., offices

retail, services

public buildings

warehouses

trade, industry

traffic, garages, parking

420

Density Category 6

UA: Undeveloped Area (%) PS: Public Space (%) PRS: Private Space (%) FAR: Floor Area Ratio SOI: Site Occupancy Index VAR: Volume-to-Area Ratio H: Building Height F: Number of Floors OD: Occupation Density (m2) RP: Rental Price (%) PT: Population Turnover (%) PU: Public Use and Ground Floor Use (%) YC: Year of Construction

100% Ø 98.6% 94.3% Ø 98.6%

1921—1950

84.2% 74.0% Ø 72.6% Ø 72.6%

76.5m 2 Ø 73.4m2 2 2 68.1m Ø 73.4m

69.8% 14.0m Ø 13.9m Ø 13.9m

Ø 1.62 Ø 49.8% 43.0%

1.53

4.33

31.0%

0.26

Ø 22.8%

PS

PRS

40.2%

Ø 0.28 4.2m

1.5

Ø 11.5%

0.80

0.23 UA

Ø 5.2

Ø 3.86

0.16

14.4%

69.0% Ø 67.3% Ø 67.3%

6.1

FAR

SOI

VAR

H

F

OD

RP

2.8% 0.0% PU

PT

— YC

Berlin, Bonner Straße (1.53)

310.5m2

Ø 151.5m 2 137.7%

107.0% Ø 101.5%

1971— 1951—1970

94.9%

1921—1950

81.2% 69.4%

Ø 67.2%

63.9m 2

6.04

1.78

57.0%

1951—1970 1801—1920 Ø 51.0%

Ø 1.33

Ø 44.7%

0.43

24.5% Ø 22.5% Ø 22.5% 12.4%

UA

PS

Ø 4.16

9.9m

Ø 0.33

32.5%

Ø 9.0m Ø 9.0m

Ø 3.4 3.3 23.4%

0.18 0.36

PRS

FAR

1.09

SOI

Munich, Tumblingerstraße (1.78)

VAR

3.8m

1.8

H

F

OD

RP

PT

1921—1950 Ø 18.4% 3.0% 0.0% PU

YC

421

Evaluation Diagrams

100% Ø Ø 95.2% 98.6% 84.2% Ø 72.6%

Ø 79.5m 2 Ø 73.4m2 68.1m 2

69.8%

Ø 63.5% 50.9%

Ø 49.8%

1.62 Ø 1.62 Ø 1.43

Ø 41.0%

Ø 0.36

31.0% Ø 22.8% 22.5%

7.7m 19.9%

0.16

PRS

40.2% 32.2%

Ø 3.1 2.6

4.2m

1.5

H

F

Ø 21.7% 14.0% Ø 11.5% Ø 13.8%

0.80

0.23 PS

Ø 67.3%

Ø 5.2

Ø 8.8m

Ø 0.28

14.4%

UA

Ø 4.41 Ø 3.86

1921—1950 1801—1920

76.5%

60.4m2

Ø 13.9m 4.92

0.49

1971— 1951—1970

FAR

SOI

VAR

OD

RP

0.0% PU

PT

— YC

Vienna, Hasnerstraße (1.62)

6

2 2 Ø 525.6m 310.5m

Ø 151.5m 2 137.7%

Ø 115.0%

113.8m 2

Ø 101.5%

1971—

94.9% 81.2% 79.7% 69.4% Ø 15.6m 57.2% Ø 49.5% Ø 44.7%

1.55

Ø 1.40 Ø 1.33

4.71

Ø 22.5% 22.5% Ø 22.0% 12.4%

PS

0.36

PRS

FAR

Zurich, Bändliweg (1.55)

1.09

SOI

VAR

1951—1970 Ø 51.0%

Ø 4.6 Ø 9.0m

0.20 0.18

66.4%

6.3

Ø Ø 4.27 4.16

Ø 0.33 Ø 0.28

UA

80.4%

19.9m

Ø 71.5% Ø 67.2%

Ø 41.6%

Ø 3.4

3.8m

1.8

H

F

Ø Ø 20.2% 18.4%

1921—1950

11.1%

OD

RP

PT

0.0% PU

YC

Density Category 7

( 1.9  —  2.3 )

 Christburger Straße, — Munich —  Pariser Platz, — Vienna —  Fockygasse, — Zurich —  Kanzleistraße Berlin —

(2.12)

(2.02)

(1.96)

7

(1.96)

424

Berlin, Christburger Straße (2.12)

Munich, Pariser Platz (2.02)

Density Category 7

425

District Photographs

7

Vienna, Fockygasse (1.96)

Zurich, Kanzleistraße (1.96)

426

Berlin, Christburger Straße (2.12)

Munich, Pariser Platz (2.02)

Density Category 7

427

District Photographs

7

Vienna, Fockygasse (1.96)

Zurich, Kanzleistraße (1.96)

428

Berlin, Christburger Straße (2.12)

Munich, Pariser Platz (2.02)

Density Category 7

429

District Photographs

7

Vienna, Fockygasse (1.96)

Zurich, Kanzleistraße (1.96)

430

Berlin, Christburger Straße (2.12)

Munich, Pariser Platz (2.02)

Density Category 7

431

Aerial Images Scale 1 :  5 000

7

Vienna, Fockygasse (1.96)

Zurich, Kanzleistraße (1.96)

432

Berlin, Christburger Straße (2.12)

Munich, Pariser Platz (2.02)

Density Category 7

433

Figure-Ground Plans Scale 1 :  5 000

7

Vienna, Fockygasse (1.96)

Zurich, Kanzleistraße (1.96)

434

Berlin, Christburger Straße (2.12)

Munich, Pariser Platz (2.02)

Density Category 7

435

Parcels, Undeveloped Area (UA), Private Space (PRS), Public Space (PS) Scale 1 :  5 000

7

Vienna, Fockygasse (1.96)

Zurich, Kanzleistraße (1.96) Public Space (PS)

Private Space (PRS)

Development

436

Berlin, Christburger Straße (2.12)

Munich, Pariser Platz (2.02)

Density Category 7

437

Floor Area Ratio (FAR) Scale 1 :  5 000

7

Vienna, Fockygasse (1.96)

Zurich, Kanzleistraße (1.96) no data

undeveloped

> 0.0 — 0.45

> 0.45 — 0.7

> 0.7 — 0.9

> 0.9 — 1.1

> 1.1 — 1.

> 1.5 — 2.0

> 2.0 — 3.0

> 3.0 — 4.0

> 4.0

438

Berlin, Christburger Straße (2.12)

Munich, Pariser Platz (2.02)

Density Category 7

439

Site Occupancy Index (SOI) Scale 1 :  5 000

7

Vienna, Fockygasse (1.96)

Zurich, Kanzleistraße (1.96) no data

undeveloped

> 0.0 — 0.2

0.2 — 0.4

> 0.4 — 0.6

0.4 — 0.6

> 0.8 — 1.0

440

Berlin, Christburger Straße (2.12)

Munich, Pariser Platz (2.02)

Density Category 7

7

446

Berlin, Christburger Straße (2.12)

Munich, Pariser Platz (2.02)

Density Category 7

447

Public Use and Ground-Floor Use (PU) Scale 1 :  5 000

7

Vienna, Fockygasse (1.96)

Zurich, Kanzleistraße (1.96) no data

housing

mixed occupancy

admin., offices

retail, services

public buildings

warehouses

trade, industry

traffic, garages, parking

448

Density Category 7

UA: Undeveloped Area (%) PS: Public Space (%) PRS: Private Space (%) FAR: Floor Area Ratio SOI: Site Occupancy Index VAR: Volume-to-Area Ratio H: Building Height F: Number of Floors OD: Occupation Density (m2) RP: Rental Price (%) PT: Population Turnover (%) PU: Public Use and Ground Floor Use (%) YC: Year of Construction

103.2% 100% Ø 98.6% Ø 98.6% 84.2%

8.26

Ø 72.6%

69.8%

Ø 73.4m2 68.1m 2 69.5m 2 Ø 13.9m

Ø 1.62 Ø 49.8% 0.40

PRS

Ø 5.2 40.2%

Ø 3.86

4.2m

0.16

1.5

Ø 11.5%

0.80

0.23 PS

Ø 67.3%

Ø 0.28

19.6%

14.4%

UA

1801—1920

5.1

40.5%

Ø 22.8%

1951—1970 83.5%

19.9m

2.12

60.1%

1971—

FAR

SOI

VAR

H

F

OD

RP

8.2% 0.0% PU

PT

— YC

Berlin, Christburger Straße (2.12)

310.5m2

Ø 151.5m 2 137.7%

103.5% Ø 101.5% Ø 101.5% 94.9%

1971— 1951—1970 1921—1950 1801—1920

81.2% 69.4%

Ø 67.2%

2.02

72.2m 2

6.71

1951—1970

55.4%

Ø 51.0% Ø 1.33

Ø 44.7%

28.4% Ø 22.5%

PS

Ø 4.16

11.2m Ø 9.0m Ø 9.0m

Ø 0.33 27.0% 0.36

PRS

3.9

—1800

Ø 3.4

1921—1950 0.18

12.4%

UA

0.45

FAR

Munich, Pariser Platz (2.02)

1.09

SOI

VAR

3.8m

1.8

H

F

OD

RP

15.1%

Ø 18.4% 18.6%

PT

0.0% PU

YC

449

Evaluation Diagrams

100% Ø Ø 95.2% 98.6% 84.2% Ø 72.6%

69.8%

Ø 63.5%

Ø 79.5m 2 Ø 73.4m2 68.1m 2

1.96 6.09 Ø 13.9m

Ø 1.62

54.2%

Ø 49.8%

Ø 1.43

Ø 41.0%

37.1%

0.46

17.1%

PRS

PS

57.3m2

40.2%

3.7

33.1%

Ø 3.1

Ø 21.7%

0.16

4.2m

1.5

H

F

Ø 13.8% Ø 11.5% 8.1%

0.80

0.23 UA

Ø 67.3%

11.2m Ø 8.8m

1801—1920

74.6%

Ø 0.28

Ø 22.8% 22.5% 14.4%

Ø 4.41 Ø 3.86

Ø 0.36

Ø 5.2

1971— 1951—1970 1921—1950

FAR

SOI

VAR

OD

RP

PT

0.0% PU

— YC

Vienna, Fockygasse (1.96)

2 2 Ø 525.6m 310.5m

Ø 151.5m 2 137.7%

1971— 1951—1970

94.9% 85.7m 2

1921—1950

81.2% Ø 71.5% Ø 67.2% 63.0%

69.4%

18.4m 1.96

Ø 49.5% Ø 44.7% 33.2%

Ø 1.40 Ø 1.33 0.37

29.8%

Ø 22.5% 22.0%

UA

PS

0.36

PRS

FAR

Ø 9.0m

Zurich, Kanzleistraße (1.96)

VAR

Ø 51.0% 46.1% Ø 41.6%

Ø 4.6

Ø 0.33 Ø 0.28

1.09

SOI

5.6 Ø Ø 4.27 4.16

0.18

12.4%

1801—1920 1951—1970

Ø 15.6m

5.77

Ø 3.4

3.8m

1.8

H

F

36.7%

Ø Ø 20.2% 18.4%

OD

RP

PT

0.0% PU

1921—1950

YC

7

Ø 115.0% 107.8% Ø 101.5%

Density Category 8

( 2.3  —  2.7 )

 Raabestraße, — Munich —  Im Tal, — Vienna —  Hahngasse, — Zurich —  Spiegelgasse (2.33)

(2.62)

(2.49)

(2.52)

8

Berlin —

452

Berlin, Raabestraße (2.33)

Munich, Im Tal (2.62)

Density Category 8

453

District Photographs

8

Vienna, Hahngasse (2.49)

Zurich, Spiegelgasse (2.52)

454

Berlin, Raabestraße (2.33)

Munich, Im Tal (2.62)

Density Category 8

455

District Photographs

8

Vienna, Hahngasse (2.49)

Zurich, Spiegelgasse (2.52)

456

Berlin, Raabestraße (2.33)

Munich, Im Tal (2.62)

Density Category 8

457

District Photographs

8

Vienna, Hahngasse (2.49)

Zurich, Spiegelgasse (2.52)

458

Berlin, Raabestraße (2.33)

Munich, Im Tal (2.62)

Density Category 8

459

Aerial Images Scale 1 :  5 000

8

Vienna, Hahngasse (2.49)

Zurich, Spiegelgasse (2.52)

460

Berlin, Raabestraße (2.33)

Munich, Im Tal (2.62)

Density Category 8