Murals for Mayberry. Or Peapack-Gladstone.

Over the last decade or so, we’ve witnessed an explosion of murals on the blank sides of buildings. Not surprisingly, it began as a largely big-city phenomenon, most prominently in Philadelphia, whose Mural Arts Program has achieved international recognition for the time, effort and artistry expended on these majestic, multi-story tableaus. (It has also spawned a

The Deadwood dilemma: if they designed all their roads like this one, we would be dead.

Here’s a vote of no confidence in pedestrian infrastructure if I’ve ever seen one.Not sure what I’m talking about? It’s undeniably a dark photo, but some context should help clarify things. We’re looking at the old mining town of Deadwood, South Dakota, a place that, in most respects, should venerate the pedestrian. After all, the

South Bethlehem: A main street for the ages…with all the wrinkles we might expect.

The typical American city experienced such social upheaval after World War II that it’s almost impossible to find one—regardless of size—where the midcentury cataclysms did not exert at least some change upon the urban form. Bethlehem, Pennsylvania appears to rank among those that I can find with the least amount of scar tissue: bisected by

Tourist traps and coastal cosmopolitanism—a profitable pairing.

The trendy tourist trap town offers more than a chance for alliteration (which I obviously can NEVER pass up). It affords great opportunities for analysis, because, nine times out of ten, this funky community with abnormal appeal differs from the surrounding areas in numerous other ways beyond the dollars it racks up in out-of-town visitors.

Murals for Mayberry. Or Peapack-Gladstone.

Over the last decade or so, we’ve witnessed an explosion of murals on the blank sides of buildings. Not surprisingly, it began as a largely big-city phenomenon, most prominently in Philadelphia, whose Mural