While I’ve borrowed other people’s pictures in the past as a basis for analysis, this may be the first time in which the revelation itself is not my own. I had been living in New Orleans for six months at the time a friend came down to visit. After spending the first night in the
I have up to this point generally shied away from the topic of urban sprawl because I see it as a hydra with no easy or politically viable solution. Then it occurred to me that few of my blog topics merit a quick fix, and, even though my own views on suburban growth no doubt
Perhaps humankind’s ambivalence toward wilderness is best manifested in our perception of what is truly beautiful. A single person could gaze admiringly at both Bryce Canyon and the Gardens of Versailles for their beauty, despite the fact that the external forces that created them couldn’t be more diametrically opposed to one another. Ideally the undiscerning
Urban historians have devoted pages upon pages in books to the reclamation of long-abandoned developments by wilderness—a wilderness that these developments originally replaced. It doesn’t take long to discover excellent photo montages on the return of flora and fauna upon long-neglected human settlements, such as James Griffioen’s excellent series on the feral houses of Detroit.
As I prepare for a significantly longer essay on the introduction of complete streets into the American landscape, I wanted to include a few images of a quiet but growing concern among planners and civil engineers: biofragmentation through the construction of roads. In his book Road Ecology, Richard T. T. Forman estimates that 1,000,000 animals