The identity of a place is discovered as you move through it

I’ve just finished re-reading Gordon Cullen’s A Concise Townscape, and it’s a firm reminder that placemaking isn’t static; but it’s how a place behaves in real life, when you’re actually walking through it.

Cullen’s idea of serial vision is simple: cities are experienced moment by moment, corner by corner, reveal by reveal. Good places choreograph these moments. They let you turn a corner and feel something; curiosity, clarity, surprise, and delight.

And this isn’t just about buildings. Places should tell a story through what they show you: framed views, small cues of local history, well-placed art, markers, materials and moments that help you read where you are. How these elements are positioned in the journey, their scale, sequence and relationship to each other, is just as important as the objects themselves.

If placemaking has a job, it’s to create this sense of narrative and flow. To make the city legible, textured, human. To let people discover a place rather than simply arrive in it.

That’s the work. And it’s more interesting than a static snapshot ever could be.

(Images: two of my own photographs exploring the quiet in-between moments where character actually reveals itself.)

Image of Seidler’s Australia Square tower. A replica of Dupain’s famous angle.

Sometimes view points and sight lines reveal themselves in unusual ways and unexpected locations. But too often we fail to design for them.

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Vale Prof. Ed Blakely

There are few people who ever make it to “legend status”. But Professor Ed Blakely was one of them.

I first came across Ed in '08 at university, inspired by his work in New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina. Years later I was fortunate to work alongside him.

Ed had an unrelenting passion for cities. He pushed for bold ideas: a unified governance structure for Sydney with real planning teeth, stripping back rigid zoning and FSR ratios, and planning infrastructure ahead of growth rather than scrambling after it. He was an urbanist in the truest sense, and he never stopped challenging the way things are done.

But Ed was more than his ideas. His witty humour stayed with him right until the end. He could always slip a joke into even the most serious conversations. He was as gentle and generous as he was brilliant, and quickly became a much-loved part of the extended Hoyne team.

For me, he was both a mentor and a friend. We travelled together, shared long car rides and lunches, and spoke endlessly. He taught me things I’ll carry for life; professionally and personally.

Ed leaves behind a legacy like no other. He will be missed by so many of us who had the privilege to call him a colleague, a mentor, and a friend.

Rest in peace, Ed.

You will be missed.

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