You Are My Density

Joe Gregorio‘s post, A World Made of (Well-Designed) Cities, points to two interesting pieces: Tim O’Reilly’s reprint of a Stewart Brand lecture on urbanization, and a Lincoln Institute of Land Policy presentation, Visualizing Density (which he found by way of WorldChanging). The latter in particular is welcome. We can talk or write about the built environment all we want, but words can only give you an cerebral impression of a place. In order to understand the more visceral effects of the environment, photographs or visiting the site are necessary. Since we can’t all travel as widely as we would like, the photographs will have to do.

“Visualizing Density” begins with this introduction.

But, as anyone who has tried to build compact development recently will tell you, if there’s one thing Americans hate more than sprawl, it’s density. This is evident in the public planning process as regulations are written and projects are reviewed. Across the country, efforts to increase density have met with stiff resistance. One reason people reject density is that they don’t know much about it—what it looks like, how to build it, or whether it’s something they can call home.

That’s because density, qua density, is not a viable goal. Density may be a necessary condition for something else desired, such as walkable neighborhoods, but by itself is meaningless. When a planner speaks of density, we, the public, hear only that there will be too many others too close to us. Those values, “too many” and “too close,” vary from person to person. For some, too close is sharing an apartment; for others, it is having neighbors closer than the next ridge: Ma and Pa Ingalls left the Big Woods because it was getting too crowded.

Population density is relevant only in context. Consider the tiger or Wal-Mart in its environment. Each depends on a sufficient population within a given area to survive, but the area ranges in size.