Cities and Memory: Conclusion

The city, however, does not tell its past, but contains it like the lines of a hand, written in the corners of the streets, the gratings of the windows, the banisters of the steps, the antennae of the lightning rods, the poles of the flags, every segment marked in turn with scratches, indentations, scrolls.

 Italo Calvino, Invisible Cities

As we have seen, both “closed” and “open” models of urban development are limited in their ability to create the ideal city. While utopian visions such as Le Corbusier’s are rarely practical and can often lead to stagnancy, Jane Jacobs’ laissez-faire approach may not sufficiently address the problems a city can face. 

Indeed, many of the examples we have seen operate on a cycle between “closed” and “open.” In my first unit assignment, I discussed how Post Office Square has followed a cyclic narrative of redemption, culminating with its shift from a “closed” form (the parking garage) to an “open” one (Post Office Park). A similar cycle has taken place in Moscow’s Zaryadye district, which has progressed from dense urban district to failed monument, and is now on the verge of being repurposed as a park. In the opposite direction, the Fatih Camii has declined from a vibrant urban center into a historical artifact and tourist destination, moving towards a more limited urban functionality. These sites are wedded to neither Corbusier’s nor Jacobs’ approach —instead, they alternate between the two. 

In any case, these layers of reinvention would not be visible without our knowledge of “urban poetics.” By evaluating literary and artistic works such as Pamuk’s “Istanbul” or Brodsky’s “Guide to a Renamed City,” we can better understand the rich cultural context that informs cities’ decision to reinvent themselves, as well as the various agendas and interests that inform them when doing so. I hope to use this methodology in my future studies of the urban imagination, and am grateful for the opportunity to have studied it.