A pattern language

Public transportation must be able to take people from any point to any other point within the metropolitan area.

Buses and trains, which run along lines, are too far from most origins and destinations to be useful. Taxis, which can go from point to point, are too expensive.

To solve the problem, it is necessary to have a kind of vehicle which is half way between the two—half like a bus, half like a taxi—a small bus which can pick up people at any point and take them to any other point, but which may also pick up other passengers on the way, to make the trip less costly than a taxi fare.

Recent research, and full-scale experiments, have shown that a system of mini-buses, on call by telephone, can function in this fashion, taking people from door to door in 15 minutes, for no more than 50 cents a ride (1974): and that the system is efficient enough to support itself. It works just like a taxi, except that it picks up and drops off other passengers while you are riding; it goes to the nearest corner to save time—not to your own front door; and it costs a quarter of an average taxi fare.

The system hinges, to a certain extent, on the development of sophisticated new computer programs. As calls come in, the computer examines the present movements of all the various minibuses, each with its particular load of passengers, and decides which bus can best afford to pick up the new passenger, with the least detour. Two-way radio contact keeps the mini-buses in communication with the dispatcher at the computer switchboard. All this, and other details, are discussed fully in a review of current

I 10 20 MINI-BUSES

Canadian mini-bus.

dial-a-bus research: Summary Re-port—The Dial-a-Ride Transportation System, M.I.T. Urban Systems Laboratory, Report USL-TR-70-10, March 1971.

Dial systems for buses are actually coming into existence now because they are economically feasible. While conventional fixed-route public transport systems are experiencing a dangerous spiral of lower levels of service, fewer passengers, and increased public subsidies, over 30 working dial-a-bus systems are presently in successful operation throughout the world. For example, a dial-a-bus system in Regina, Saskatchewan, is the only part of the Regina Transit System which supports itself (Regina Telebus Study: Operations Report, and Financial Report, W. G. Atkinson et ah, June 1972). In Batavia, New York, dial-a-bus is the sole means of public transport, serving a population of 16,000 at fares of 40 to 60 cents per ride.

We finish this pattern by reminding the reader of two vital problems of public transportation, which underline the importance of the mini-bus approach.

First, there are very large numbers of people in cities who cannot drive; we believe the mini-bus system is the only realistic way of meeting the needs of all these people.

Their numbers are much larger than one would think. They are, in effect, a silent minority comprising the uncomplaining old and physically handicapped, the young and the poor. In 1970, over 20 percent of U.S. households did not own a car. Fifty-seven and five-tenths percent of all households with incomes under $3000 did not own a car. For households headed by persons 65 years of age or older, 44.9 percent did not own a car. Of the youths between 10 and 18 years of age, 80 percent are dependent on others, including public

11 I

TOWNS

transit, for their mobility. Among the physically disabled about 5.7 million are potential riders of public transportation if the system could take them door-to-door. (Sumner Myers, “Turning Transit Subsidies into ‘Compensatory Transportation,’ ” City, Vol. 6, No. 3, Summer 1972, p. 20.)

Second, quite apart from these special needs, the fact is that a web of public transportation, with large buses, boats, and trains, will not work anyway, without a mini-bus system. The large systems need feeders: some way of getting to the stations. If people have to get in their cars to go to the train, then, once in the car, they stay in it and do not use the train at all. The mini-bus system is essential for the purpose of providing feeder service in the larger web of public transportation.

Therefore:

Establish a system of small taxi-like buses, carrying up to six people each, radio-controlled, on call by telephone, able to provide point-to-point service according to the passengers’ needs, and supplemented by a computer system which guarantees minimum detours, and minimum waiting times. Make bus stops for the mini-buses every 600 feet in each direction, and equip these bus stops with a phone for dialing a bus.

six passenger buses
bus stops every 600 feet

Place the bus stops mainly along major roads, as far as this can be consistent with the fact that no one ever has to walk more than 600 feet to the nearest one—parallel roads (23); put one in every interchange (34) ; and make each one a place where a few minutes’wait is pleasant—bus stop (92). . . .

I 12

establish community and neighborhood folicy to control the character of the local environment ac cording to the following fundamental frincifles:

21 FOUR-STORY LIMIT**

114

. . . within an urban area, the density of building fluctuates. It will, in general, be rather higher toward the center and lower toward the edges—city country fingers (3), lace of country streets (5), magic of the city (io). However, throughout the city, even at its densest points, there are strong human reasons to subject all buildings to height restrictions.

•i* •b •b

There is abundant evidence to show that high buildings make people crazy.

High buildings have no genuine advantages, except in speculative gains for banks and land owners. They are not cheaper, they do not help create open space, they destroy the townscape, they destroy social life, they promote crime, they make life difficult for children, they are expensive to maintain, they wreck the open spaces near them, and they damage light and air and view. But quite apart from all of this, which shows that they aren’t very sensible, empirical evidence shows that they can actually damage people’s minds and feelings.

“The Ministry of Truth—Mini true, in Newsfeak—was startlingly different from any other object in sight. It was an enormous -pyramidal structure of glittering white concrete, soaring up terrace after terrace 300 metres in the air.” (George Orwell, 1984)

115

A PATTERN LANGUAGE

we have called it ^aA Pattern Language” with the emphasis on the word “A,” and how we imagine this pattern language might be related to the countless thousands of other languages we hope that people will make for themselves, in the future.

The Timeless Way of Building says that every society which is alive and whole, will have its own unique and distinct pattern language j and further, that every individual in such a society will have a unique language, shared in part, but which as a totality is unique to the mind of the person who has it. In this sense, in a healthy society there will be as many pattern languages as there are people—even though these languages are shared and similar.

The question then arises: What exactly is the status of this published language? In what frame of mind, and with what intention, are we publishing this language here? The fact that it is published as a book means that many thousands of people can use it. Is it not true that there is a danger that people might come to rely on this one printed language, instead of developing their own languages, in their own minds?

The fact is, that we have written this book as a first step in the society-wide process by which people will gradually become conscious of their own pattern languages, and work to improve them. We believe, and have explained in The Timeless Way of Building, that the languages which people have today are so brutal, and so fragmented, that most people no longer have any language to speak of at all—and what they do have is not based on human, or natural considerations.

XV]

TOWNS

There are two separate bodies of evidence for this. One shows the effect of high-rise housing on the mental and social well being of families. The other shows the effect of large buildings, and high buildings, on the human relations in offices and workplaces. We present the first of these two bodies of evidence in the text which follows. The second, concerning offices and workplaces, we have placed in building complex (95), since it has implications not just for the height of buildings but also for their total volume.

We wish to stress, however, that the seemingly one-sided concern with housing in the paragraphs which follow, is only apparent. The underlying phenomenon—namely, mental disorder and social alienation created by the height of buildings—occurs equally in housing and in workplaces.

The strongest evidence comes from D. M. Fanning (“Families in Flats,” British Medical Journal, November 18, 1967, pp. 382— 86). Fanning shows a direct correlation between incidence of mental disorder and the height of people’s apartments. The higher people live off the ground, the more likely are they to suffer mental illness. And it is not simply a case of people prone to mental illness choosing high-rise apartments. Fanning shows that the correlation is strongest for the people who spend the most time in their apartments. Among the families he studied, the correlation was strongest for women, who spend the most time in their apartments; it was less strong for children, who spend less time in the apartments; and it was weakest for men, who spend the least amount of time in their apartments. This strongly suggests that sheer time spent in the high-rise is itself what causes the effect.

A simple mechanism may explain this: high-rise living takes people away from the ground, and away from the casual, everyday society that occurs on the sidewalks and streets and on the gardens and porches. It leaves them alone in their apartments. The decision to go out for some public life becomes formal and awkward; and unless there is some specific task which brings people out in the world, the tendency is to stay home, alone. The forced isolation then causes individual breakdowns.

Fanning’s findings are reinforced by Dr. D. Cappon’s clinical experiences reported in “Mental Health and the High Rise,” Canadian Public Health Association, April 1971:

There is every reason to believe that high-rise apartment dwelling has adverse effects on mental and social health. And there is sufficient clinical, anecdotal and intuitive observations to back this up. Herewith, in no particular order ranking, a host of factors:

In my experience as Mental Health Director in a child guidance clinic in York Township, Toronto, for 5 years, I saw numerous children who had been kinetically deprived . . . and kinetic deprivation is the worst of the perceptual, exploratory kinds, for a young child, leaving legacies of lethargy, or restlessness, antisocial acting out or withdrawal, depersonalization or psychopathy.

Young children in a high-rise are much more socially deprived of neighborhood peers and activities than their S.F.D. (Single Family Dwelling) counterparts, hence they are poorly socialized and at too close quarters to adults, who are tense and irritable as a consequence.

Adolescents in a high-rise suffer more from the “nothing-to-do” ennui than those of a S.F.D., with enhanced social needs for “drop in centres” and a greater tendency to escapism. . . .

Mothers are more anxious about their very young ones, when they can’t see them in the street below, from a convenient kitchen window.

There is higher passivity in the high-rise because of the barriers to active outlets on the ground; such barriers as elevators, corridors; and generally there is a time lapse and an effort in negotiating the vertical journey. TV watching is extended in the high-rise. This affects probably most adversely the old who need kinesia and activity, in proportion, as much as the very young do. Though immobility saves them from accidents, it also shortens their life in a high-rise. . . .

A Danish study by Jeanne Morville adds more evidence (Borns Brug aj Friarsaler, Disponering Af Friarsaler, Etageboligomrader Med Saerlig Henblik Pa Borns Legsmuligheder, S.B.I., Denmark, 1969):

Children from the high blocks start playing out of doors on their own at a later age than children from the low blocks: Only 2% of the children aged two to three years in the high point blocks play on their own out of doors, while 27% of the children in the low blocks do this.

Among the children aged five years in the high point blocks 29% do not as yet play on their own out of doors, while in the low blocks all the children aged five do so. . . . The percentage of young children playing out of doors on their own decreases with the height of their homes; 90% of all the children from the three lower floors in the high point blocks play on their own out of doors, while only 59% of the children from the three upper floors do so. . . .

Young children in the high blocks have fewer contacts with playmates than those in the low blocks: Among children aged one, two and three years, 86% from the low blocks have daily contact with playmates; this applies to only 29% from the high blocks.

More recently, there Is the evidence brought forward by Oscar Newman in Dejensible Space. Newman compared two adjacent housing projects in New York—one high-rise, the other a collection of relatively small three-story walk-up buildings. The two projects have the same overall density, and their inhabitants have roughly the same income. But Newman jound that the crime rate in the high-rise was roughly twice that in the walk-ups.

At what height do the effects described by Fanning, Cappon, Morville, and Newman begin to take hold? It is our experience that in both housing and office buildings, the problems begin when buildings are more than four stories high.

At three or four stories, one can still walk comfortably down to the street, and from a window you can still feel part of the street scene: you can see details in the street—the people, their faces, foliage, shops. From three stories you can yell out, and catch the attention of someone below. Above four stories these connections break down. The visual detail is lost; people speak of the scene below as if it were a game, from which they are completely detached. The connection to the ground and to the fabric of the town becomes tenuous; the building becomes a world of its own: with its own elevators and cafeterias.

We believe, therefore, that the “four-story limit” is an appropriate way to express the proper connection between building height and the health of a people. Of course, it is the spirit of the pattern which is most essential. Certainly, a building five stories high, perhaps even six, might work if it were carefully handled. But it is difficult. On the whole, we advocate a four-story limit, with only occasional departures, throughout the town.

Finally, we give the children of Glasgow the last word.

To fling a “piece,” a slice of bread and jam, from a window down to a child in the street below has been a recognised custom in Glasgow’s tenement housing. . . .

THE JEELY PIECE SONG by Adam McNaughton

Pm a skyscraper wean, I live on the nineteenth flair,

On’ Pm no’ gaun oot tae play ony mair,

For since we moved tae oor new hoose Pm wastin’ away,

’Cos Pm gettin’ wan less meal ev’ry day,

Refrain

Oh) ye canny fling- pieces oot a twenty-storey flat,

Seven hundred hungry weans will testify tae that,

If it’s butter, cheese or jeely, if the breid is plain or pan, The odds against it reachin’ us is ninety-nine tae wan.

We’ve wrote away tae Oxfam tae try an’ get some aid,

We’ve a’ joined thegither an’ formed a “piece” brigade,

We’re gonny march tae London tae demand oor Civil Rights,

Like “Nae mair hooses ower piece flingin’ heights.”

Therefore:

In any urban area, no matter how dense, keep the majority of buildings four stories high or less. It is possible that certain buildings should exceed this limit, but they should never be buildings for human habitation.

Within the framework of the four-story limit the exact height of individual buildings, according to the area of floor they need, the area of the site, and the height of surrounding buildings, is given by the pattern number of stories (96). More global variations of density are given by density rings (29). The horizontal subdivision of large buildings into smaller units, and separate smaller buildings, is given by building complex (95). housing hill (39) and office connections (82) help to shape multi-storied apartments and offices within the constraints of a four-story limit. And finally, don’t take the four-story limit too literally. Occasional exceptions from the general rule are very important-HIGH PLACES (62). . . .

119

22 NINE PER CENT PARKING**

I 20

. . . the integrity of local transport areas and the tranquility of local communities and neighborhoods depend very much on the amount of parking they provide. The more parking they provide, the less possible it will be to maintain these patterns, because the parking spaces will attract cars, which in turn violate the local transport areas and neighborhoods—local transport areas ( I I), COMMUNITY OF 7OOO (l2)> IDENTIFIABLE NEIGHBORHOOD (14). This pattern proposes radical limits on the distribution of parking spaces, to protect communities.

4. 4. 4.

Very simply—when the area devoted to parking is too great, it destroys the land.

In downtown Los Angeles over 60 fer cent of the land is given over to the automobile.

Very rough empirical observations lead us to believe that it is not possible to make an environment fit for human use when more than 9 per cent of it is given to parking.

Our observations are very tentative. We have yet to perform systematic studies—our observations rely on our own subjective estimates of cases where “there are too many cars” and cases where “the cars are all right.” However, we have found in our preliminary observations, that different people agree to a remarkable extent about these estimates. This suggests that we are dealing with a phenomenon which, though obscure, is nonetheless substantial.

An example of an environment which has the threshold density of 9 per cent parking, is shown in our key photograph: a quadrant

I 21

of the University of Oregon. Many people we have talked to feel intuitively that this area is beautiful now, but that if more cars were parked there it would be ruined.

What possible functional basis is there for this intuition? We conjecture as follows: people realize, subconsciously, that the physical environment is the medium for their social intercourse. It is the environment which, when it is working properly, creates the potential for all social communion, including even communion with the self.

We suspect that when the density of cars passes a certain limit, and people experience the feeling that there are too many cars, what is really happening is that subconsciously they feel that the cars are overwhelming the environment, that the environment is no longer “theirs,” that they have no right to be there, that it is not a place for people, and so on. After all, the effect of the cars reaches far beyond the mere presence of the cars themselves. They create a maze of driveways, garage doors, asphalt and concrete surfaces, and building elements which people cannot use. When the density goes beyond the limit, we suspect that people feel the social potential of the environment has disappeared. Instead of inviting them out, the environment starts giving them the message that the outdoors is not meant for them, that they should stay indoors, that they should stay in their own buildings, that social communion is no longer permitted or encouraged.

We have not yet tested this suspicion. Hoivever_y if it turns out to be true, it may be that this pattern, which seems to be based on such slender evidence, is in fact one of the most crucial patterns there is, and that it -plays a key role in determining the difference between environments which are socially and psychologically healthy and those which are unhealthy.

We conjecture, then, that environments which are human, and not destroyed socially or ecologically by the presence of parked cars, have less than 9 per cent of the ground area devoted to parking space; and that parking lots and garages must therefore never be allowed to cover more than 9 per cent of the land.

It is essential to interpret this pattern in the strictest possible way. The pattern becomes meaningless if we allow ourselves to place the parking generated by a piece of land A, on another adjacent piece of land B, thus keeping parking on A below 9 per

1 22

22 NINE PER CENT PARKING

cent, but raising the parking on B to more than 9 per cent. In other words, each piece of land must take care of itself; we must not allow ourselves to solve this problem on one piece of land at the expense of some other piece of land. A town or a community can only implement the pattern according to this strict interpretation by defining a grid of independent “parking zones”—each zone I to 10 acres in area—which cover the whole community, and then insisting that the rule be applied, independently, and strictly, inside every parking zone.

The 9 per cent rule has a clear and immediate implication for the balance between surface parking and parking in garages, at different parking densities. This follows from simple arithmetic. Suppose, for example, that an area requires 20 parking spaces per acre. Twenty parking spaces will consume about 7000 square feet, which would be 17 per cent of the land if it were all in surface parking. To keep 20 cars per acre in line with the 9 per cent rule, at least half of them will have to be parked in garages. The table below gives similar figures for different densities:

Cars per Per cent on Per cent in two Per cent in three acre surface story garages story garages

What about underground parking? May we consider it as an exception to this rule? Only if it does not violate or restrict the use of the land above. If, for example, a parking garage is under a piece of land which was previously used as open space, with great trees growing on it, then the garage will almost certainly change the nature of the space above, because it will no longer be possible to grow large trees there. Such a parking garage is a violation of the land. Similarly, if the structural grid of the garage— 60 foot bays—constrains the structural grid of the building above, so that this building is not free to express its needs, this is a violation too. Underground parking may be allowed only in those rare cases where it does not constrain the land above at all: under a major road, perhaps, or under a tennis court.

We see then, that the 9 per cent rule has colossal implications.

Since underground parking will only rarely satisfy the conditions we have stated, the pattern really says that almost no part of the urban area may have more than 30 parking spaces per acre. This will create large changes in the central business district. Consider a part of a typical downtown area. There may be several hundred commuters per acre working there; and, under today’s conditions, many of them park their cars in garages. But if it is true that there cannot be more than 30 parking spaces per acre, then either the work will be forced to decentralize, or the workers will have to rely on public transportation. It seems, in short, that this simple pattern, based on the social psychology of the environment, leads us to the same far reaching social conclusions as the patterns web

OF PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION (l6) and SCATTERED WORK (9).

Therefore:

Do not allow more than 9 per cent of the land in any given area to be used for parking. In order to prevent the “bunching” of parking in huge neglected areas, it is necessary for a town or a community to subdivide its land into “parking zones” no larger than 10 acres each and to apply the same rule in each zone.

parking zones

*

Two later patterns say that parking must take one of two forms: tiny, surface parking lots, or shielded parking structures—

1 24

SHIELDED PARKING (97), SMALL PARKING LOTS (1O3). If yOU accept these patterns the 9 per cent rule will put an effective upper limit of 30 parking spaces per acre, on every part of the environment. Present-day on-street parking, with driveways, which provides spaces for about 35 cars per acre on the ground is ruled out. And those present-day high density business developments which depend on the car are also ruled out. . . .

A PATTERN LANGUAGE

We have spent years trying to formulate this language, in the hope that when a person uses it, he will be so impressed by its power, and so joyful in its use, that he will understand again, what it means to have a living language of this kind. If we only succeed in that, it is possible that each person may once again embark on the construction and development of his own language— perhaps taking the language printed in this book, as a point of departure.

And yet, we do believe, of course, that this language which is printed here is something more than a manual, or a teacher, or a version of a possible pattern language. Many of the patterns here are archetypal—so deep, so deeply rooted in the nature of things, that it seems likely that they will be a part of human nature, and human action, as much in five hundred years, as they are today. We doubt very much whether anyone could construct a valid pattern language, in his own mind, which did not include the pattern arcades (119) for example, or the pattern alcoves (179).

In this sense, we have also tried to penetrate, as deep as we are able, into the nature of things in the environment: and hope that a great part of this language, which we print here, will be a core of any sensible human pattern language, which any person constructs for himself, in his own mind. In this sense, at least a part of the language we have presented here, is the archetypal core of all possible pattern languages, which can make people feel alive and human.

23 PARALLEL ROADS

I 26

. . . in earlier patterns, we have proposed that cities should be subdivided into local transport areas, whose roads allow cars to move in and out from the ring roads, but strongly discourage internal movement across the area—local transport areas (ii), ring roads (17)—and that these transport areas themselves be further subdivided into communities and neighborhoods, with the provision that all major roads are in the boundaries between communities and neighborhoods—subculture boundary (13), neighborhood boundary (15). Now, what should the arrangement of these roads be like, to help the flow required by local transport areas (i i), and to maintain the boundaries?

The net-like pattern of streets is obsolete. Congestion is choking cities. Cars can average 60 miles per hour on freeways, but trips across town have an average speed of only 10 to 15 miles per hour.

Certainly, in many cases, we want to get rid of cars, not help them to go faster. This is fully discussed in local transport areas (ii). But away from the areas where children play and people walk or use their bikes, there still need to be certain streets which carry cars. The question is: How can these streets be designed to carry the cars faster and without congestion?

It turns out that the loss of speed on present city streets is caused mainly by crossing movements: left-hand turns across traffic and four-way intersections. (G. F. Newell, “The Effect of Left Turns on the Capacity of Traffic Intersection,” Quarterly of Applied Mathematics, XVII, April 1959, pp. 67—76.)

To speed up traffic it is therefore necessary to create a network of major roads in which there are no four-way intersections, and no left-hand turns across traffic. This can easily be done if the major roads are alternating, one-way parallel roads, a few hundred feet apart, with smaller local roads opening off them, and the only connections between the parallel roads given by larger freeways crossing them at two- or three-mile intervals.

1 27

Parallel roads.

This pattern has been discussed at considerable length in three papers (“The Pattern of Streets,” C. Alexander, AIF Journal, September 1966; Criticisms by D. Carson and P. Roosen-Runge, and Alexander’s reply, in A IP Journal, September 1967.) We refer the reader to these original papers for the full derivation of all the geometric details. Our present statement is a radically condensed version. Here we concentrate mainly on one puzzling question—that of detours—because this is for many people the most surprising aspect of the full analysis.

The pattern of parallel roads—since it contains no major cross streets—creates many detours not present in today’s net-like pattern. At first sight it seems likely that these detours will be impossibly large. However, in the papers mentioned above it is shown in detail that they are in fact perfectly reasonable. We summarize the argument below.

It is possible to calculate the probable detour for any trip of a given length through this proposed parallel road system as a function of the distance between the cross roads. Next, the probability of any given trip length may be obtained from actual studies of metropolitan auto trips. These two types of probabilities can finally be combined to yield an overall mean trip length and over-

I 28

We see, therefore, that even with cross roads two miles apart, the lack of cross streets only increases trip lengths by 5 per cent. At the same time_} the average speed of trips will increase from /5 miles per hour to about 45 miles per hour, a threefold increase. The huge savings in time and fuel costs will more than offset the slight increase in distance.

Referring back for a moment to the table of detours, it will be noticed that the highest detours occur for the shortest trips. We have argued elsewhere—local transport areas (11)—that to preserve the quality of the city’s environment it is necessary to discourage the use of the automobile for very short trips, and to encourage walking, bikes, buses, and horses instead. The pattern of parallel roads has precisely the feature which local transport areas need. It makes longer trips vastly more efficient, while discour-aging the very short auto trips, and so provides the local transport area with just the internal structure which it needs to support its function.

‘ o'

I 29

Although this pattern seems strange at first sight, it is in fact already happening in many parts of the world and has already proved its worth. For example, Berne, Switzerland, is one of the few cities in Europe that does not suffer from acute traffic congestion. When one looks at a map of Berne, one can see that its old center is formed by five long parallel roads with almost no cross streets. We believe that it has little congestion in the old center precisely because it contains the pattern. In many large cities today, the same insight is being implemented piecemeal—in the form of more and more one-way streets: in New York the alternating one-way Avenues, in downtown San Francisco the one-way major streets.

Therefore:

Within a local transport area build no intersecting major roads at all; instead, build a system of parallel and alternating one-way roads to carry traffic to the ring roads (17). In existing towns, create this structure piecemeal, by gradually making major streets one-way and closing cross streets. Keep parallel roads at least 100 yards apart (to make room for neighborhoods between them) and no more than 300 or 400 yards apart.

The parallel roads are the only through roads in a local transport area (i i). For access from the parallel roads to public buildings, house clusters, and individual houses use safe, slow, narrow roads which are not through roads—looped local roads (49), green streets (51)—and make their intersections with the parallel roads a “T”—t junction (50). Keep the pedestrian path system at right angles to the parallel roads, and raised above them where the two must run parallel—network of paths and cars (52), raised walk (55). Provide a road crossing (54) where paths cross the parallel roads.

24 SACRED SITES*

I 3 I

. . . in every region and every town, indeed in every neighborhood, there are special places which have come to symbolize the area, and the people’s roots there. These places may be natural beauties or historic landmarks left by ages past. But in some form they are essential.

People cannot maintain their spiritual roots and their connections to the past if the physical world they live in does not also sustain these roots.

Informal experiments in our communities have led us to believe that people agree, to an astonishing extent, about the sites which do embody people’s relation to the land and to the past. It seems, in other words, as though “the” sacred sites for an area exist as objective communal realities.

If this is so, it is then of course essential that these specific sites be preserved and made important. Destruction of sites which have become part of the communal consciousness, in an agreed and widespread sense, must inevitably create gaping wounds in the communal body.

Traditional societies have always recognized the importance of these sites. Mountains are marked as places of special pilgrimage; rivers and bridges become holy; a building or a tree, or rock or stone, takes on the power through which people can connect themselves to their own past.

But modern society often ignores the psychological importance of these sites. They are bulldozed, developed, changed, for political and economic reasons, without regard for these simple but fundamental emotional matters; or they are simply ignored.

We suggest the following two steps.

1. In any geographic area—large or small—ask a large number of people which sites and which places make them feel the most contact with the area; which sites stand most for the important values of the past, and which ones embody their connection to the land. Then insist that these sites be actively preserved.

2. Once the sites are chosen and preserved, embellish them in

132

a way which intensifies their public meaning. We believe that the best way to intensify a site is through a progression of areas which people pass through as they approach the site. This is the principle of “nested precincts,” discussed in detail under the pattern HOLY ground (66).

A garden which can be reached only by passing through a series of outer gardens keeps its secrecy. A temple which can be reached only by passing through a sequence of approach courts is able to be a special thing in a man’s heart. The magnificence of a mountain peak is increased by the difficulty of reaching the upper valleys from which it can be seen; the beauty of a woman is intensified by the slowness of her unveiling; the great beauty of a river bank—its rushes, water rats, small fish, wild flowers—are violated by a too direct approach; even the ecology cannot stand up to the too direct approach—the thing will simply be devoured.

We must therefore build around a sacred site a series of spaces which gradually intensify and converge on the site. The site itself becomes a kind of inner sanctum, at the core. And if the site is very large—a mountain—the same approach can be taken with special places from which it can be seen—an inner sanctum, reached past many levels, which is not the mountain, but a garden, say, from which the mountain can be seen in special beauty.

Therefore:

Whether the sacred sites are large or small, whether they are at the center of the towns, in neighborhoods, or in the deepest countryside, establish ordinances which will protect them absolutely—so that our roots in the visible surroundings cannot be violated.

sacred sites

acts of preservation

*33

*!• 4*

Give every sacred site a place, or a sequence of places, where people can relax, enjoy themselves, and feel the presence of the

place-QUIET BACKS (59), ZEN VIEW (134), TREE PLACES (171),

carden seat (176). And above all, shield the approach to the site, so that it can only be approached on foot, and through a series of gateways and thresholds which reveal it gradually—holy cround (66)....

25 ACCESS TO WATER*

'35

SUMMARY OF THE LANGUAGE

A pattern language has the structure of a network. This is explained fully in The Timeless Way of Building. However, when we use the network of a language, we always use it as a sequence₎ going through the patterns, moving always from the larger patterns to the smaller, always from the ones which create structures, to the ones which then embellish those structures, and then to those which embellish the embellishments. . . .

Since the language is in truth a network, there is no one sequence which perfectly captures it. But the sequence which follows, captures the broad sweep of the full network j in doing so, it follows a line, dips down, dips up again, and follows an irregular course, a little like a needle following a tapestry.

The sequence of patterns is both a summary of the language, and at the same time, an index to the patterns. If you read through the sentences which connect the groups of patterns to one another, you will get an overview of the whole language. And once you get this overview, you will then be able to find the patterns which are relevant to your own project.

And finally, as we shall explain in the next section, this sequence of patterns is also the “base map,” from

. . . water is always precious. Among the special natural places covered by sacred sites (24), we single out the ocean beaches, lakes, and river banks, because they are irreplaceable. Their maintenance and proper use require a special pattern.

People have a fundamental yearning for great bodies of water. But the very movement of the people toward the water can also destroy the water.

Either roads, freeways, and industries destroy the water’s edge and make it so dirty or so treacherous that it is virtually inaccessible; or when the water’s edge is preserved, it falls into private hands.

Access to water is blocked.

But the need that people have for water is vital and profound. (See, for example, C. G. Jung, Symbols of Transformation, where Jung takes bodies of water which appear in dreams as a consistent representation of the dreamer’s unconscious.)

The problem can be solved only if it is understood that people will build places near the water because it is entirely natural; but that the land immediately along the water’s edge must be preserved for common use. To this end the roads which can destroy the water’s edge must be kept back from it and only allowed near it when they lie at right angles to it.

Life forms around, the water's edge.

The width of the belt of land along the water may vary with the type of water, the density of development along it, and the ecological conditions. Along high density development, it may be no more than a simple stone promenade. Along low density development, it may be a common parkland extending hundreds of yards beyond a beach.

Therefore:

When natural bodies of water occur near human settlements, treat them with great respect. Always preserve a belt of common land, immediately beside the water. And allow dense settlements to come right down to the water only at infrequent intervals along the water’s edge.

roads at right angles to the water

The width of the common land will vary with the type of water and the ecological conditions. In one case, it may be no more than a simple stone promenade along a river bank a few feet wide—promenade (31). In another case, it may be a swath of dunes extending hundreds of yards beyond a beach—the countryside (7). In any case, do not build roads along the water within one mile of the water; instead, make all the approach roads at right angles to the edge, and very far apart—parallel roads (23). If parking is provided, keep the lots small—small parking lots (103). . . .

26 LIFE CYCLE*

139

. . . a real community provides, in full, for the balance of human experience and human life—community of 7000 (12). To a lesser extent, a good neighborhood will do the same—identifiable neighborhood (14). To fulfill this promise, communities and neighborhoods must have the range of things which life can need, so that a person can experience the full breadth and depth of life in his community.

All the world’s a stage,

And all the men and women merely players:

They have their exits and their entrances;

And one man in his time plays many parts,

His acts being seven ages.

As, first the infant,

Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.

And then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,

Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then the soldier,

Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,

Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,

Seeking the bubble reputation

Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,

In fair round belly with good capon lined,

With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,

Full of wise saws and modern instances;

And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slipper’d pantaloon,

With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;

His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,

Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,

That ends this strange eventful history,

Is second childishness and mere oblivion,

Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing.

(Shakespeare, As You Like It, Il.viii.)

To live life to the fullest, in each of the seven ages, each age must be clearly marked, by the community, as a distinct well-marked time. And the ages will only seem clearly marked if the

ceremonies which mark the passage from one age to the next are firmly marked by celebrations and distinctions.

By contrast, in a flat suburban culture the seven ages are not at all clearly marked; they are not celebrated; the passages from one age to the next have almost been forgotten. Under these conditions, people distort themselves. They can neither fulfill themselves in any one age nor pass successfully on to the next. Like the sixty-year-old woman wearing bright red lipstick on her wrinkles, they cling ferociously to what they never fully had.

This proposition hinges on two arguments.

A. The cycle of life is a definite psychological reality. It consists of discrete stages, each one fraught with its own difficulties, each one with its own special advantages.

B. Growth from one stage to another is not inevitable, and, in fact, it will not happen unless the community contains a balanced life cycle.

A. The Reality of the Life Cycle.

Everyone can recognize the fact that a person’s life traverses several stages—infancy to old age. What is perhaps not so well understood is the idea that each stage is a discrete reality, with its own special compensations and difficulties; that each stage has certain characteristic experiences that go with it.

The most inspired work along these lines has come from Erik Erikson: “Identity and the Life Cycle,” in Psychological Issues, Vol. i, No. I, New York: International Universities Press, 1959; and Childhood and Society, New York: W. W. Norton, 1950.

Erikson describes the sequence of phases a person must pass through as he matures and suggests that each phase is characterized by a specific developmental task—a successful resolution of some life conflict—and that this task must be solved by a person before he can move wholeheartedly forward to the next phase. Here is a summary of the stages in Erikson’s scheme, adapted from his charts:

r. Trust vs. mistrust: the infant; relationship between the infant and mother; the struggle for confidence that the environment will nourish.

2. Autonomy vs. shame and doubt: the very young child; relationship between the child and parents; the struggle to stand on

one’s own two feet, to find autonomy in the face of experiences of shame and doubt as to one’s capacity for self-control.

3. initiative vs. guilt: the child; relationship to the family, the ring of friends; the search for action, and the integrity of one’s acts; to make and eagerly learn, checked by the fear and guilt of one’s own aggressions.

4. Industry vs. inferiority: the youngster; relationship to the neighborhood, the school; adaptation to the society’s tools; the sense that one can make things well, alone, and with others, against the experience of failure, inadequacy.

5. Identity vs. identity diffusion: youth, adolescence; relationship to peers and “outgroups” and the search for models of adult life; the search for continuity in one’s own character against confusion and doubt; a moratorium; a time to find and ally oneself with creeds and programs of the world.

6. Intimacy vs. isolation: young adults; partners in friendship, sex, work; the struggle to commit oneself concretely in relations with others; to lose and find oneself in another, against isolation and the avoidance of others.

7. Generativity vs. stagnation: adults; the relationship between a person and the division of labor, and the creation of a shared household; the struggle to establish and guide, to create, against the failure to do so, and the feelings of stagnation.

8. Integrity vs. despair: old age; the relationship between a person and his world, his kind, mankind; the achievement of wisdom; love for oneself and one’s kind; to face death openly, with the forces of one’s life integrated; vs. the despair that life has been useless.

B. But growth through the Life cycle is not inevitable.

It depends on the presence of a balanced community, a community that can sustain the give and take of growth. Persons at each stage of life have something irreplaceable to give and to take from the community, and it is just these transactions which help a person to solve the problems that beset each stage. Consider the case of a young couple and their new child. The connection between them is entirely mutual. Of course, the child “depends” on the parents to give the care and love that is required to resolve the conflict of trust that goes with infancy. But simultaneously,

the child gives the parents the experience of raising and bearing, which helps them to meet their conflict of generativity, unique to adulthood.

We distort the situation if we abstract it in such a way that we consider the parent as “having” such and such a personality when the child is born and then, remaining static, impinging upon a poor little thing. For this weak and changing little being moves the whole family along. Babies control and bring up their families as much as they are controlled by them ; in fact, we may say that the family brings up a baby by being brought up by him. Whatever reaction patterns are given biologically and whatever schedule is predetermined developmentally must be considered to be a series of potentialities for changing patterns of mutual regulation. [Erikson, ibid. p. 69.]

Similar patterns of mutual regulation occur between the very old and the very young; between adolescents and young adults, children and infants, teenagers and younger teenagers, young men and old women, young women and old men, and so on. And these patterns must be made viable by prevailing social institutions and those parts of the environment which help to maintain them —the schools, nurseries, homes, cafes, bedrooms, sports fields, workshops, studios, gardens, graveyards. . . .

We believe, however, that the balance of settings which allow normal growth through the life cycle has been breaking down. Contact with the entire cycle of life is less and less available to each person, at each moment in time. In place of natural communities with a balanced life cycle we have retirement villages, bedrooms suburbs, teenage culture, ghettos of unemployed, college towns, mass cemeteries, industrial parks. Under such conditions, one’s chances for solving the conflict that comes with each stage in the life cycle are slim indeed.

To re-create a community of balanced life cycles requires, first of all, that the idea take its place as a principal guide in the development of communities. Each building -project, whether the addition to a house, a new road, a clinic, can be viewed as either helping or hindering the right balance for local communities. We suspect that the community repair maps, discussed in The Oregon Experiment, Chapter V (Volume 3 in this series), can play an especially useful role in helping to encourage the growth of a balanced life cycle.

But this pattern can be no more than an indication of work

that needs to be done. Each community must find ways of taking stock of its own relative “balance’³ in this respect, and then define a growth process which will move it in the right direction. This is a tremendously interesting and vital problem; it needs a great deal of development, experiment, and theory. If Erikson is right, and if this kind of work does not come, it seems possible that the development of trust, autonomy, initiative, industry, identity, intimacy, generativity, integrity may disappear entirely.

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l6 LIFE CYCLE

Therefore:

Make certain that the full cycle of life is represented and balanced in each community. Set the ideal of a balanced life cycle as a principal guide for the evolution of communities. This means:

1. That each community include a balance of people at every stage of the life cycle, from infants to the very old; and include the full slate of settings needed for all these stages of life;

2. That the community contain the full slate of settings which best mark the ritual crossing of life from one stage to the next.

settings to support any single stage of life

• settings to support ritual passing from one stage to another

o settings to mark

interaction between stages

The rites of passage are provided for, most concretely, by holy ground (66). Other specific patterns which especially support the seven ages of man and the ceremonies of transition are HOUSEHOLD MIX (35), OLD PEOPLE EVERYWHERE (40), WORK COMMUNITY (41), LOCAL TOWN HALL (44), CHILDREN IN THE CITY (57), BIRTH PLACES (65), GRAVE SITES (70), THE FAMILY (75), YOUR OWN HOME (79), MASTER AND APPRENTICES (83), TEENAGE SOCIETY (84), SHOPFRONT SCHOOLS (85), CHILDREN’S HOME (86), ROOMS TO RENT ( I 5 3 ) , TEENAGER’S COTTAGE ( I 5 4) , OLD AGE COTTAGE ( I 5 5) , SETTLED WORK ( I S 6) , MARRIAGE BED

(187).

SUMMARY OF THE LANGUAGE

which you can make a language for your own project, by choosing the patterns which are most useful to you, and leaving them more or less in the order that you find them printed here.

•J* *2* 4*

We begin with that 'part of the language which defines a town or community. These patterns can never be “designed” or “built” in one fell swoop—but patient piecemeal growth, designed in such a way that every individual act is always helping to create or generate these larger global patterns_} will, slowly and surely, over the yearSy make a community that has these global patterns in it.

1. independent regions

within each region work toward those regional policies which will protect the land and mark the limits of the cities j

2. THE DISTRIBUTION OF TOWNS

3. CITY COUNTRY FINGERS

4. AGRICULTURAL VALLEYS

5. LACE OF COUNTRY STREETS

6. COUNTRY TOWNS

7. THE COUNTRYSIDE

27 MEN and women

146

. . . and just as a community or neighborhood must have a proper balance of activities for people of all the different ages—

COMMUNITY OF 7OOO (12), IDENTIFIABLE NEIGHBORHOOD ( I 4),

life cycle (26)—so it must also adjust itself and its activities to the balance of the sexes, and provide, in equal part, the things which reflect the masculine and feminine sides of life.

The world of a town in the 1970’s is split along sexual lines. Suburbs are for women, workplaces for men; kindergartens are for women, professional schools for men; supermarkets are for women, hardware stores for men.

Since no aspect of life is purely masculine or purely feminine, a world in which the separation of the sexes is extreme, distorts reality, and perpetuates and solidifies the distortions. Science is dominated by a masculine, and often mechanical mentality; foreign diplomacy is governed by war, again the product of the masculine ego. Schools for young children are swayed by the world of women, as are homes. The house has become the domain of woman to such a ridiculous extreme that home builders and developers portray an image of homes which are delicate and perfectly “nice,” like powder rooms. The idea that such a home could be a place where things are made or vegetables grown, with sawdust around the front door, is almost inconceivable.

The pattern or patterns which could resolve these problems are, for the moment, unknown. We can hint at the kinds of buildings and land use and institutions which would bring the problem into balance. But the geometry cannot be understood until certain social facts are realized, and given their full power to influence the environment. In shorty until both men and women are able to mutually influence each fart of a town's life, we shall not know what kinds of fhysical fatterns will best co-exist ivith this social order.

Therefore:

*47

Make certain that each piece of the environment—each building, open space, neighborhood, and work community —is made with a blend of both men’s and women’s instincts. Keep this balance of masculine and feminine in mind for every project at every scale, from the kitchen to the steel mill.

man’s spirit

woman’s spirit

No large housing areas without workshops for men; no work communities which do not provide for women with part-time jobs and child care—scattered work (9). Within each place which has a balance of the masculine and feminine-, make sure that individual men and women also have room to flourish, in their own right, distinct and separate from their opposites—a ROOM OF one’s OWN (141). . . .

both in the neighborhoods and the communities_y and in between them_y in the boundaries_y encourage the formation of local centers: