There is a park near my home in Chicago. It has come to mean a great deal to me; its presence in my life makes me measurably happier. It’s a small park, just the size of a city block. Though it is small, it is mighty. It’s well designed and beautiful, nestling together nature areas, public art, spaces to picnic, benches, a dog park, and a playground. More importantly, perhaps because of its design and beauty, perhaps for other reasons—it’s well-utilized and loved by a diverse cross-section of the neighborhood’s residents. At any given time of day, you will find people of multiple ethnicities and ages using the park for a variety of activities. Children play, old men sit on park benches and nap in the sun, people gather around the dog park and watch the dogs, all manner of couples and friends sprawl about for picnics, people sun themselves and read, teenagers throw around balls, people walk their dogs, parents watch their children.
It buzzes with use by people and takes on a life of its own. And, through that buzz, in that buzz, it creates a sort of calm and tranquility, an oasis, a respite from the rest of the city, a place of slowness, smallness, community, and identity, different from the quickness and anonymity that surround it, also different from the isolation one might feel in an empty space. And, in the peaceful, vibrant community it creates, it issues an invitation— to focus on what’s right in front of you, at that moment, instead of everything else in your day—to relax, to focus, to just be, to just be with others.
I never thought I’d be so passionate about a park! But this park notably increases the quality of my life, is a place that I look forward to going to, and makes me feel “at home” in the city.
On vacation in Paris, I fell in love with the generous use of public spaces throughout the city. Chairs are everywhere in every public park—asking you, your friends, tourists, neighbors, and people from across the city to sit and spend some time there. And people use them—benches and chairs throughout public spaces are occupied at all times of day, with a mix of people engaged in a variety of activities. I was also charmed by all of the outward facing patio tables. As you dine with a friend, you don’t cordon yourself off into a little world with each other, you literally, physically remain open to the rest of the world. People watching and looking at the world around you becomes a part of your meal.
I recently read #Republic by Cass Sunstein where he covers, among other things, the value of actual physical public commons in a republic or democracy. These spaces become more and more important as so much of our lives become more insular and more tailored to our own tastes, opinions, and preferences. They are places where we can “accidentally” be exposed to people and ideas outside of our norms and preferences, where we can have conversations with people we may never have otherwise spoken to, where we can observe each other, where we can see commonality and our shared humanity in simple things… And, as if that were not already sufficient, they also can be places that, when populated, become an important way for people to put their rights to use. The right to free speech and the right to protest can mean more when you have a ready audience to engage with.
We need more public spaces where accidental interactions happen. We need more spaces where we exist together. We need more spaces where we look around and recognize ourselves as members of a physical community beyond home and work; where our identity expands to include the recognition of commonalities with people we may otherwise never have spent time with. We need more places of beauty, where we can just be, with others.
What are some of your favorite public spaces?
