The New World

As habitable land inexorably gets devoured by the minute, either through sheer population growth, like in the cities of Asia, or by the growth of the sprawl-hungry North American suburbs and exurbs, what seemed inconceivable with the current state-of-the-art of architecture a few hundred years ago is now commonplace in many cities: the sight of hundreds, if not thousands of concrete, glass and metal spires rising from the ground to heights that dominate vision. In cities like Hong Kong, years of vertical building have created a sea of stalagmitic apartment blocks that scale Victoria Peak in an organic version of highrise living: an amalgam of sleek futurism and Asian pragmatism. The bustling core around Central District and Causeway Bay, all flyover street signage and glittering neon, packed with people, is a keen indication of the vitality in this city of cities.

Vancouver, where I live, is an example of a North American city learning to build vertically, shaped less by population growth and more by accident of geography and hence, land values -- the city is constrained by mountains, the ocean and a border shared with the United States. Land is scarce, and, like many cities on this continent, Vancouver's developers have opted to raise an army of characterless condominiums flanking the downtown core. There's a certain sculptural elegance to these towers that only makes itself known from a great distance, but up close, the condos of False Creek and Yaletown seem copycat utilitarian; the jury is still out on whether a city the likes of the great modern metropolises will manifest itself in such a condo-heavy environment.

What does Vancouver lack? I suspect it's the drive of commerce; the mercantile instinct. Think of the cities around the world that are the vanguard of skyscraper living: New York, London, Tokyo, Hong Kong and lately, Shanghai. These are the commercial centres of the world, to where both the rich and poor flock, to make their fortunes. It's this collision of class, race, religion and creed, brought together by ambition, that seems to me the best recipe for a vital city. When everyone's a potential customer, how can you wall yourself off from the next person? That is both the strength and source of tension in our great cities. With all their flaws, these cities are the models for future living, as space dwindles.

There's still something abhorrent about life in an alveole-like chamber in a non-descript tower. We all want room to move, a place to stretch out, variety in our environment -- not that much different from old Fido. As much as I might believe that vertical living is inevitable for most of us, I appreciate the benefits of space. What is it that appeals about it? Some remnant of life on the plains, under an open sky... a reminder of freedom? Too-small spaces feel like prison cells, with limited vistas and just enough room to pace. Space is to shelter as spice is to food -- it may not be needed, but without it, something is lost. In every cramped little condo, even the grandest fixtures and building materials cannot quite overcome a feeling of claustrophobia.

To some extent, we can find the space we need in the communal areas granted to the public: the great parks, like Olmsted's famed Central Park, and their smaller cousins, and in the various planned spaces found in any urban environment, whose quality is often commensurate to the effort and money expended on them, meaning in many cases that they're pretty awful. Many new high-rise developments, harkening back to L'Enfant's master-planned expanse of Washington, D.C., often devote substantial space to public parks and recreation areas, conscious of their importance. In the future, it's quite possible that these public spaces will become drastically vital, as our private realms shrink.

It's by no means assured, however. As the web continues to grow in importance, our business and social lives conducted online, our information gleaned from predominantly virtual sources -- all the things that common spaces once abetted so well -- we ensure that our real, public spaces will never be as popular as they once were. Though we all seek space and freedom, it seems that many of us have found it in the virtually limitless regions that are available to us online. Even as we are brought closer together, physically, by the expansion of our cities and the dwindling resource of land, the web has ensured that, in its mediated way, we can remain as far apart as we like. (Even as it, too, paradoxically, strives to bring us together.)