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164 articles

Sterling silver in a sandwich.

A few weeks ago, I blogged about how, in this day and age, it’s nearly impossible for a storefront in the middle of a city block to secure a tenant. The population density usually just isn’t great enough. If the storefront is on a corner, it could work, and if it’s in the middle of

A threadbare patch on the new urban tapestry.

The evidence is everywhere around us: people are rediscovering long-neglected urban neighborhoods. But why? What is prompting this sea change in how we relate to cities? One could argue that recent social policies have focused on downtown revitalization, as well as the surrounding neighborhoods, and the ensuing investment is finally manifest. But anyone who has

Perplexed in Pawtucket.

My latest just made it to Huffington Post.  Fundamentally it’s about two cities and how they strategically toy with the boundary between them. The industrial city of Pawtucket has a prominent border with Providence, Rhode Island’s economically mixed state capital.  Both cities have their fare share of gritty neighborhoods, but, where the two abut one another,

Google Street View: chronicling urban transformation.

My latest just went up on Urban Indy.  I recently discovered the “time scroll” feature on Google Street View (though I suspect it’s been there for months–years even) and I decided to apply some comparative shots.  It’s really remarkable to see how much a neighborhood like Fountain Square in Indianapolis has changed since Google began

Rising above the district dogma.

Normally I have come to the defense of historic preservation as a both a discipline and an economic development tool. But, inasmuch as I support almost any effort to cultivate, recognize and then save heritage, I also know that the most sincere efforts can go up in flames when couched in the liberal use of

Passing the bar exam with flying colors.

Whenever we encounter an odd pairing—anything, really—it’s hard not to ponder how the members of the unlikely duo found one another. The way they engage the senses, or maybe just one sense, is unexpectedly symbiotic. Like when the zing from spicy Buffalo wings gets muted by the buttermilk in blue cheese dressing, usually abetted by

Tossing historic accuracy out the window.

Don’t let the naysayers sway you. Historic preservation aspirations can harmonize with the private sector. In fact, it’s happening now more than ever, and it’s depending far less on pubic sector intervention than ever before. With increasing frequency, entrepreneurs are mobilizing to salvage buildings or prominent features deemed under threat, either from redevelopment or decay

Fuel for the stomach and the economy.

This article effectively piggybacks on its predecessor from this blog. Earlier this week (at least in my article), it became clear that the independent brewing scene is now fully cognizant of its own subculture’s intrinsic value. Back when they were untested and high-risk, most craft breweries started in what may have seemed like the path of

Dethroning the top brass.

When it first opened in 1997, local and regional media acclaimed the Brass Mill Center of Waterbury, Connecticut for transforming a long-blighted, desolate, contaminated old industrial site. And, considering that the retail hub replaced an expansive collection of derelict buildings visible along Interstate 84, it probably improved Waterbury’s image not just to its natives but

Goulash in the melting pot.

On the corner of an otherwise nondescript strip mall just outside of New Brunswick, New Jersey, I encountered this storefront: Nothing particularly special about it in the grand scheme of things—nothing that jumps out, just from viewing the exterior. But the name is distinctive. Magyar. For those not in the know, Magyarország is the word

Sterling silver in a sandwich.

A few weeks ago, I blogged about how, in this day and age, it’s nearly impossible for a storefront in the middle of a city block to secure a tenant. The population density

A threadbare patch on the new urban tapestry.

The evidence is everywhere around us: people are rediscovering long-neglected urban neighborhoods. But why? What is prompting this sea change in how we relate to cities? One could argue that recent social policies

Perplexed in Pawtucket.

My latest just made it to Huffington Post.  Fundamentally it’s about two cities and how they strategically toy with the boundary between them. The industrial city of Pawtucket has a prominent border with Providence,

Google Street View: chronicling urban transformation.

My latest just went up on Urban Indy.  I recently discovered the “time scroll” feature on Google Street View (though I suspect it’s been there for months–years even) and I decided to apply

Rising above the district dogma.

Normally I have come to the defense of historic preservation as a both a discipline and an economic development tool. But, inasmuch as I support almost any effort to cultivate, recognize and then

Passing the bar exam with flying colors.

Whenever we encounter an odd pairing—anything, really—it’s hard not to ponder how the members of the unlikely duo found one another. The way they engage the senses, or maybe just one sense, is

Tossing historic accuracy out the window.

Don’t let the naysayers sway you. Historic preservation aspirations can harmonize with the private sector. In fact, it’s happening now more than ever, and it’s depending far less on pubic sector intervention than

Fuel for the stomach and the economy.

This article effectively piggybacks on its predecessor from this blog. Earlier this week (at least in my article), it became clear that the independent brewing scene is now fully cognizant of its own subculture’s

Dethroning the top brass.

When it first opened in 1997, local and regional media acclaimed the Brass Mill Center of Waterbury, Connecticut for transforming a long-blighted, desolate, contaminated old industrial site. And, considering that the retail hub

Goulash in the melting pot.

On the corner of an otherwise nondescript strip mall just outside of New Brunswick, New Jersey, I encountered this storefront: Nothing particularly special about it in the grand scheme of things—nothing that jumps