A Canadian Suburban Townhouse: An Aural Perspective

Up until now, I never really listened to my home. Although, in hind sight, I now clearly remember the affective power that sound held throughout my childhood. I remember when I was younger, I would awake to a sudden noise in the middle of the night, or rather I had woken up because of a nightmare, only then soon to be followed by a sudden sound that lead my imagination in the darkness of the night to sore to unimaginable places. It is said that, ‘the scariest thing is one’s own imagination.’ Sounds that were in reality simply the expansion and contraction of wooden floor panels or closet doors or a neighbors footsteps, it would be these sounds that lead me too lye still with my eyes wide open in pitch darkness of my room in fear of my own imagination until I would fall asleep. It would be these sounds that would paralyze me, afraid to move, in fear of being killed or kidnapped. The house is clearly breathing and alive.

The fragility of the North American suburban architecture creates an interesting soundscape. The toothpick-like four-by-four framework and thin drywall walls, make the suburban townhouse aurally porous. Even though the visual and cultural discourse of suburbia points to the notion of extremely privatized and isolating space, the pockets of town-homes and semi-detached houses in suburbia on the contrary can also be seen, or “heard,” as a very human and communal space. The profitability of these suburban developments leads to the low cost materials used to build the rapid suburban sprawl in order to maximize profit. As a result, the thin materials become permeable to sound. The suburban landscape derives from the trend of real estate house flipping and upgrading. It is a place to quickly and safely turn a profit and climb the social class ladder. As a result, these spaces engage in and foster racialized thinking, as people flee from places considered “poor,” “bad,” and “uncivilized” to places that are understood as “rich,” “pleasant,” and “civilized.” Although the suburban landscape in visual discourse is understood as a space of racialized thinking, there are fruitful paradoxes and ironies that exist, which suggest room for hope in such urban places lake Richmond Hill or Mississauga. “Richmond Hill is a sprawling suburb where immigrants go to get away from other immigrants, but of course they end up living with all the other immigrants running away from themselves” (What We All Long For by Dionne Brand). This paradox is reverberated in the aural landscape of the suburbs. As suburban dwellers move into new “private” townhomes and semi-detached homes, life does not entirely become solitary and private. In moments of seeming silence and isolated peace, a neighbour’s life intrudes through sound. Sometimes blatant and irritating, but most of the time it can be “invisible” and become a part of the “private” soundscape, learning to ignore them.

Sound can also be identified as a socioeconomic marker, as my parents fled from loud Hip-Hop filled parking lots of an earlier neighbourhood to the now automated stereo Islamic prayers that vibrate through the bedroom walls every morning at 5am, and now again seeking new refuge from these “unpleasant” sounds. Who knows what the next sound will be.

However, there is something poetically beautiful about suburban lives bleeding through shared walls, lives traveling through sound beyond the boarders of one’s home. Sound is subversively teaching us to become more tolerant. Even though the standard of drywall and plywood are arguably weaker to our European counterparts’ standards, it may in fact be a good thing that thin walls are the standard.

Detroit Lives

Nothing makes me more excited than when things are happening. When out of death and decay comes life. That is exactly what seems to be going on in Detroit. What I love about this film is that it gives hope. One of the memorable lines in the movie is where a fella says that in an established city like New York City its hard to have a say, but in Detroit, people like 'starving artists' can really treat the city like a blank canvas and make it a more human place to live versus the post-industrial freeways that have divided and conquered the land.

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Rethinking the 'mall.'

DIAGON ALLEY IN MISSISSAUGA
Call me crazy, but what if our shopping centers shared a similar ambiance with that of Diagon Alley in the Harry Potter World. I mean, simply comparing the suburban mall with Diagon Alley, I think its easy to say which one you'd rather spend time in or even live in. And when you have people genuinely wanting to live where they work, play, and buy, I think you have a win-win situation.

The suburban mall you see is the infamous 'Square One' Shopping Mall in Mississauga, Ontario Canada. The economic hub of the city, while also quite arguably the biggest eye sore. When thinking of how to retrofit suburbia, you must remember, that at the end of the day it all comes down to dollars and cents. The owner of 'Square One' is an elderly fellow who has repeatedly rejected the idea of tearing down what in my mind is the biggest eye-sore IN THE WORLD. That's right, I'm more of a fan of the Favelas in South America. In fact Diagon Alley holds many similar characteristics with the Brazilian Slums, architecturally speaking. In terms of economics, the land owner somehow feels that the mall's ginormous free parking lot is somehow more profitable than building more buildings, from which can be leased out.

Let's just say for the sake of this article, Mr. Stubborn Land Owner had decided to retrofit the mall area. In this case, what I propose is creating an area that will keep your young population in town. With this in mind, what better than to build what young people all over the world drool over. The magic and ambiance of the Harry Potter World.

Diagon Alley, in mind, is the synthesis of what 'Square One' can be transformed into. I'm not saying tear down the mall yet. But instead, why don't we don't we expand what is already inside the mall, that is the 'fun and frivolous' window shopping, out into the streets under the clear blue sky. In doing so, in addition to the great ambiance of Diagon Alley, this method of expansion can also provide an area of mix use, where people can live and work above the store fronts that we love so much in Europe. What I wonder is why, when so many of the economic centers of the world share 19th century urban characteristics, why do we then continue to build spaces so different. Why didn't we stick with what had worked for so many centuries.

But back to my point, diagon alley has a sort 'growth-like' bacterial characteristic, which gives it the ability to engulf existing spaces and merge and connect them with its web of hidden alleyways and walkways. In addition, with Sheridan college opening up across the street, 'Diagon Alley' can foster student life with pubs, galleries, and bars. A space like Diagon Alley can likewise merge and connect cultural spaces like the Living Arts Center across the street an reactivate and mobilize social life and active citizenship.

Part of this call for such a place, is not just because it would be nice or give me the illusion of living in the Harry Potter World, but rather because it is essential. It is essential to both mobilize social living and active citizenship, but it is also essential in shaping a sustainable and livable city. Also important to note is that OIL won't be here forever. In fact many economist beckon that oil is close to gone. It is important to retrofit our cities and communities for the future, when oil is too expensive or even gone. Because that day will come. It's important to use our 'oil age' petrodollars now before this unprecedented level of wealth is gone.

Now imagine this:


...surrounded by this:
With a leisurely walk and bike path surrounding the city core:
If you're wondering "well what about the parking lots, how will I get there"... might I suggest this:

city web 2.0

city web 2.0 on Prezi

bubble boy is a true story