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AlvinofDiaspar
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From the Post:
Lessons from Dutch on reviving waterfront
PETER KUITENBROUWER, National Post
Published: Saturday, January 20, 2007
Did developers want to build a curtain of condo towers along the Amsterdam waterfront, a la Toronto? Of course they did.
The city, in a bold move, simply said, "No." There may be lessons in this as we stumble toward transforming the Toronto port lands.
Like Toronto, Amsterdam is a port town; after the Second World War, when workers punched a canal to the North Sea, the east waterfront, connected to Holland's inland sea, fell into disuse. The last big shipping line closed in 1975. People moved into the abandoned warehouses and hitched their houseboats to the deserted quays.
"For a long period it stayed like a forgotten area," says Erna Hollander, a senior project manager for the city, whose office on Amsterdam's Weesperstraat looks more like a trendy cafe. "There were a lot of squatters and people who occupied the zone. They had ideas."
When it came time to do something with the derelict area, Amsterdam started by thinking big. The city created a public-private partnership with the ING Bank. Rem Koolhaus, the Rotterdam architect who generally walks on water, designed a global plan for the area, a glitzy scheme with a new boulevard, new islands, lots of office towers and a new subway.
But Mr. Koolhaus, in this case, was all wet.
"The plan was too general, too global," Ms. Hollander says. Amsterdammers flipped out, feeling they'd lost control of the city. The office market collapsed. The bank got cold feet, and, in 1993, the city pulled the plug on the whole mess.
The city rethought the project and decided, rather than thinking big, to replicate what works in Amsterdam: small buildings right up against the water, linked by bike paths and a streetcar line and a mix of spaces to work, play and live.
"We put in trains, buses and trams. If you link this place to the centre, you've got a hell of an area."
But here is the key, to me anyway: The city simply said that no building will go higher than 40 metres -- about 13 storeys. The average height is 25 to 30 metres.
Amsterdam also deliberately parcelled off the land in tiny pieces to many developers and encouraged architects to compete to build unique visions. One 300-metre isthmus, for example, has four developers. "We do not work on a large scale," explains Ms. Hollander. "We develop it piece by piece." The city brought in a major concert hall and jazz hall, which opened in 2005. They also put in a hotel and cruise ship terminal.
This municipal muscle, so inspiring for a jaded Toronto boy, makes for human-scaled development. I took my rental bike for a ride on the great new bike paths that link the area. The architecture is a feast for the eyes, in a riot of colours and shapes. And Amsterdammers have fallen in love with the place.
Dorinde van Oort, a writer whose brother is married to my sister, just sold her 17th-century seven-storey walkup in the red light district and bought a condo in the new waterfront. The new place has everything she wants: parking for her tiny car, easy bike access to the city centre and an elevator for the man she calls her "lover," who is nearing 80. "I love it!" she exclaims."
In Toronto's waterfront, there is still a chance to do the right thing. Kristen Jenkins, spokeswoman for the Toronto Waterfront Revitalization Corp., assures me the West Don Lands will have lots of bike paths, transit and mostly mid- to low-scale buildings. However, she's concerned about the new plan for Cherry Street, which, to accommodate cars, bikes and streetcars, will be the width of Spadina Avenue.
There is still time to adjust this plan, to make it more people friendly. The key, it seems, is for the public to keep governments honest about what gets built.
AoD
Lessons from Dutch on reviving waterfront
PETER KUITENBROUWER, National Post
Published: Saturday, January 20, 2007
Did developers want to build a curtain of condo towers along the Amsterdam waterfront, a la Toronto? Of course they did.
The city, in a bold move, simply said, "No." There may be lessons in this as we stumble toward transforming the Toronto port lands.
Like Toronto, Amsterdam is a port town; after the Second World War, when workers punched a canal to the North Sea, the east waterfront, connected to Holland's inland sea, fell into disuse. The last big shipping line closed in 1975. People moved into the abandoned warehouses and hitched their houseboats to the deserted quays.
"For a long period it stayed like a forgotten area," says Erna Hollander, a senior project manager for the city, whose office on Amsterdam's Weesperstraat looks more like a trendy cafe. "There were a lot of squatters and people who occupied the zone. They had ideas."
When it came time to do something with the derelict area, Amsterdam started by thinking big. The city created a public-private partnership with the ING Bank. Rem Koolhaus, the Rotterdam architect who generally walks on water, designed a global plan for the area, a glitzy scheme with a new boulevard, new islands, lots of office towers and a new subway.
But Mr. Koolhaus, in this case, was all wet.
"The plan was too general, too global," Ms. Hollander says. Amsterdammers flipped out, feeling they'd lost control of the city. The office market collapsed. The bank got cold feet, and, in 1993, the city pulled the plug on the whole mess.
The city rethought the project and decided, rather than thinking big, to replicate what works in Amsterdam: small buildings right up against the water, linked by bike paths and a streetcar line and a mix of spaces to work, play and live.
"We put in trains, buses and trams. If you link this place to the centre, you've got a hell of an area."
But here is the key, to me anyway: The city simply said that no building will go higher than 40 metres -- about 13 storeys. The average height is 25 to 30 metres.
Amsterdam also deliberately parcelled off the land in tiny pieces to many developers and encouraged architects to compete to build unique visions. One 300-metre isthmus, for example, has four developers. "We do not work on a large scale," explains Ms. Hollander. "We develop it piece by piece." The city brought in a major concert hall and jazz hall, which opened in 2005. They also put in a hotel and cruise ship terminal.
This municipal muscle, so inspiring for a jaded Toronto boy, makes for human-scaled development. I took my rental bike for a ride on the great new bike paths that link the area. The architecture is a feast for the eyes, in a riot of colours and shapes. And Amsterdammers have fallen in love with the place.
Dorinde van Oort, a writer whose brother is married to my sister, just sold her 17th-century seven-storey walkup in the red light district and bought a condo in the new waterfront. The new place has everything she wants: parking for her tiny car, easy bike access to the city centre and an elevator for the man she calls her "lover," who is nearing 80. "I love it!" she exclaims."
In Toronto's waterfront, there is still a chance to do the right thing. Kristen Jenkins, spokeswoman for the Toronto Waterfront Revitalization Corp., assures me the West Don Lands will have lots of bike paths, transit and mostly mid- to low-scale buildings. However, she's concerned about the new plan for Cherry Street, which, to accommodate cars, bikes and streetcars, will be the width of Spadina Avenue.
There is still time to adjust this plan, to make it more people friendly. The key, it seems, is for the public to keep governments honest about what gets built.
AoD
