Anneli Xie
Prof. McNamara
ARTH 200: Architecture and Urban Studies
2020/05/15
Prof. McNamara
ARTH 200: Architecture and Urban Studies
2020/05/15
Balancing Modernist
Ideals with their Jacobian Counterpart: Moving
to Kämnärsrätten, Lund
My parents’ first apartment
was a unit in Kämnärsrätten. 40 years later, my boyfriend’s and my first
apartment is also in Kämnärsrätten. My parents lived in 3A. We just moved into
33A. During move-in day, this is all I can think about. I’ve been in the area
several times before – my parents’ favorite grocery store is just across
the street, and one of my childhood friends used to live here – but moving
in, everything feels strangely unfamiliar. My dad, who is helping us move,
seems to navigate the area with relative ease, saying it looks pretty much the
same as it did 40 years ago. For me, it’s trickier, and I’m immediately struck
by the rationalized and boring facades of each building. They all look
identical: rectangular units with white brick exteriors, blue accents
surrounding the windows, and red gangway entrances (loftgångar)
connecting them to each other.
Aesthetically, Kämnärsrätten reminds me of Walter Gropius’ Dessau-Törten Housing Estate in many ways, the flat roofs completing their full-fledged modernist look. Although, rather than expanding horizontally, the houses in Kämnärsrätten are multistory apartment buildings that surround courtyards and enclose them into neighborhood units. Fittingly enough, the buildings are called fyrklövershus, or “four-leaf-clover-houses,” because they surround the courtyard in the shape of a four-leaf clover. While this isn’t noticeable from the ground, it becomes clear when looking at the neighborhood in satellite images from above. As Le Corbusier once said, I guess “we are all learning to look at cities from above,” (Frampton 2001, 56) but the realization of the aerial emphasis in the name of the buildings immediately reinforces my ideas of the neighborhood as highly influenced by modernist urban planning. However, as we spend our first couple of days unpacking boxes and familiarizing ourselves with our new neighborhood, what seemed like a modernist plan at first glance continues to oppose itself in a continuous commemoration of Jane Jacobs’ ideas of “eyes on the street.” (Jacobs 1961, 56) As a fan of Jacobs – but also an admirer of modernism – the juxtaposition of the two is appealing. Who would have thought our new neighborhood would be the perfect area to investigate and navigate the balance between modernist planning ideas and their Jacobian counterpart?
Located in the northeast of Lund, Kämnärsrätten is a student neighborhood developed by AF Bostäder (the Academic Association of Housing). Built in the years of 1965–1969 as part of Miljonprogrammet (the Million Program, a national public housing project in Sweden), Kämnärsrätten is the biggest student neighborhood in Lund, hosting almost 3000 apartments along Kämnärsvägen (the Kämnärs Road). Ranging from dorm rooms to four-bedroom apartments, Kämnärsrätten has housing for all possible characters of university life: the freshman who has just moved to the city, the junior who has found a partner to move in with, and the small families consisting of stressed PhD parents, toddlers, and cats. While a student neighborhood, Kämnärsrätten manages to be both diverse and vibrant – and surprisingly reminiscent of a North American college campus. In addition, because Kämnärsrätten is a student neighborhood, few residents have cars. As a result, the neighborhood is designed to prioritize pedestrians and cyclists, and instead of car parking in front of each building, AF Bostäder has installed bike parking houses instead. The neighborhood is filled with trees and green spaces and there are several public outdoor activities installed: ping-pong tables, hammocks, outdoor gyms… and within a 10-minute walking distance, there are two big grocery stores, two pizzerias, mail services, a gym, a daycare, and a swimming pool. In this way, Kämnärsrätten is evocative of utopian visions of conveniency and the modernist superblock, in which services and recreational areas are all congregated in the same area. However, instead of being car-centric, it is largely pedestrian-friendly. Indeed, walking around the neighborhood, it almost feels like a miniature city – and because everything is so close – a human-centric one, at that.
Paradoxically, Kämnärsrätten is located right off of E22, Lund’s only highway. Connecting 40,000 commuters to the rest of the Skåne region, E22 is a very busy road, shrouding the neighborhood in the monotonous and dreary sound of automobiles. Hearing the noise makes me think about modernist planners, such as Le Corbusier, who strongly believed that cars were the future; (Frampton 2001, 53-55) and the fact that the highway runs so close to the neighborhood also connects it to the ideas of Robert Moses, who wished for highways to cut straight through the vibrant communities of New York City. (Tyrnauer 2016) Indeed, getting out of Lund is easy from Kämnärsrätten; you are on the highway within minutes. However – and despite the constant humming of vehicular traffic – the neighborhood itself is impermeable to cars. We learn this the hard way when we are moving in, trying to drive our giant storage truck as closely to our apartment unit as possible. Stopped by a boom barrier, we end up on the outskirts of the neighborhood, unable to get any closer. Luckily for us, a resident has seen us from her window, realized that we are moving in, and – keys in hand – comes out to open the gate for us. Once again, modernism juxtaposes itself with its counterpart: I immediately think of Jane Jacobs. Our new neighbor opening the boom barrier for us is truly a demonstration of the Jacobian eyes on the street, a testimony of community-building through informal surveillance. Upon closing the gate after us, our new neighbor welcomes us home with a smile.
One of our first agenda items as newcomers is to go pick up the many pieces of furniture that we have bought off of Facebook Marketplace. First on the list is a clothing rack, sold by a girl residing at Kämnärsvägen 59E. Looking at the map, the whole of Kämnärsvägen is connected through one main walkway that cuts through all courtyards. Each courtyard is surrounded by four buildings, and each building has its own number, ranging from 1–71. After its number division, each building is also subdivided into letters. We live in 33A, but our building consists of apartments 33A–33K and our neighborhood unit is also home to 35A–K, 37A–K, and 39A–K. Our compound is located right in the middle of the main walkway. We make clear that all lower numbers are west from our apartment, and all higher numbers, including 59E, are to the east. It immediately reminds me of Manhattan, where navigation is determined by streets and avenues. Even for me, who usually has zero sense of navigation, navigating the numbered streets of Manhattan is straight-forward and easy. I ponder this as we make way towards building 59. Even though everything looks the same in Kämnärsrätten, it perhaps won’t be too bad to navigate. After all, everything is – similarly to Manhattan – identifiable by number and planned in a grid. It should make sense. Aleksander and I discuss this as we walk: if we view the identical design of all buildings as a con of modernism, then at least the straight roads, as well as the easily understandable grid, should be a pro. Walking east, we soon notice that all gangway entrances are clearly signed with numbers.
What a pleasant surprise. We walk through the numbered arch of 41–47, cross the courtyard and enter the numbered arch of neighborhood unit 49–55; but after 55, the arches disappear, and we enter into a distinctly separate part of Kämnärsrätten. In contrast to the area we just passed through, this part isn’t clearly numbered, and the main walkway no longer leads us into neighborhood units. Instead, we have to make a right turn to once again be enveloped in a courtyard; and yes, there is 59! 59M, 59N, 59O… and 57A, 57B, and 57C; but no 59E. We walk around the building. More 59’s! 59A, 59B, 59C, but once again, no 59E. Around the corner is 59U, 59V, 59W, and 59X. We laugh. Seriously? There are 24 apartments that are all number 59?! That seems stupid. I wonder how many delivery people that have gotten lost here before. After many twists and turns, we finally find the door to 59E. I apologize to our clothing rack person for being late and explain that we couldn’t find our way here. She laughs empathetically and explains that she still gets lost here sometimes, even after having lived here for two years. After we have made our exchange, I look up “Kämnärsvägen 59” on Google Maps. From an aerial view, the lettering system makes a lot more sense than it is presented from the ground. Looking at the building from above, we realize that it has 12 corners, and in each of these, there are two entrances. On the ground, however, the building becomes a confusing labyrinth of corners. Alas, in reality, the rationalized and seemingly logical plan wasn’t so logical after all.
Aesthetically, Kämnärsrätten reminds me of Walter Gropius’ Dessau-Törten Housing Estate in many ways, the flat roofs completing their full-fledged modernist look. Although, rather than expanding horizontally, the houses in Kämnärsrätten are multistory apartment buildings that surround courtyards and enclose them into neighborhood units. Fittingly enough, the buildings are called fyrklövershus, or “four-leaf-clover-houses,” because they surround the courtyard in the shape of a four-leaf clover. While this isn’t noticeable from the ground, it becomes clear when looking at the neighborhood in satellite images from above. As Le Corbusier once said, I guess “we are all learning to look at cities from above,” (Frampton 2001, 56) but the realization of the aerial emphasis in the name of the buildings immediately reinforces my ideas of the neighborhood as highly influenced by modernist urban planning. However, as we spend our first couple of days unpacking boxes and familiarizing ourselves with our new neighborhood, what seemed like a modernist plan at first glance continues to oppose itself in a continuous commemoration of Jane Jacobs’ ideas of “eyes on the street.” (Jacobs 1961, 56) As a fan of Jacobs – but also an admirer of modernism – the juxtaposition of the two is appealing. Who would have thought our new neighborhood would be the perfect area to investigate and navigate the balance between modernist planning ideas and their Jacobian counterpart?
Located in the northeast of Lund, Kämnärsrätten is a student neighborhood developed by AF Bostäder (the Academic Association of Housing). Built in the years of 1965–1969 as part of Miljonprogrammet (the Million Program, a national public housing project in Sweden), Kämnärsrätten is the biggest student neighborhood in Lund, hosting almost 3000 apartments along Kämnärsvägen (the Kämnärs Road). Ranging from dorm rooms to four-bedroom apartments, Kämnärsrätten has housing for all possible characters of university life: the freshman who has just moved to the city, the junior who has found a partner to move in with, and the small families consisting of stressed PhD parents, toddlers, and cats. While a student neighborhood, Kämnärsrätten manages to be both diverse and vibrant – and surprisingly reminiscent of a North American college campus. In addition, because Kämnärsrätten is a student neighborhood, few residents have cars. As a result, the neighborhood is designed to prioritize pedestrians and cyclists, and instead of car parking in front of each building, AF Bostäder has installed bike parking houses instead. The neighborhood is filled with trees and green spaces and there are several public outdoor activities installed: ping-pong tables, hammocks, outdoor gyms… and within a 10-minute walking distance, there are two big grocery stores, two pizzerias, mail services, a gym, a daycare, and a swimming pool. In this way, Kämnärsrätten is evocative of utopian visions of conveniency and the modernist superblock, in which services and recreational areas are all congregated in the same area. However, instead of being car-centric, it is largely pedestrian-friendly. Indeed, walking around the neighborhood, it almost feels like a miniature city – and because everything is so close – a human-centric one, at that.
Paradoxically, Kämnärsrätten is located right off of E22, Lund’s only highway. Connecting 40,000 commuters to the rest of the Skåne region, E22 is a very busy road, shrouding the neighborhood in the monotonous and dreary sound of automobiles. Hearing the noise makes me think about modernist planners, such as Le Corbusier, who strongly believed that cars were the future; (Frampton 2001, 53-55) and the fact that the highway runs so close to the neighborhood also connects it to the ideas of Robert Moses, who wished for highways to cut straight through the vibrant communities of New York City. (Tyrnauer 2016) Indeed, getting out of Lund is easy from Kämnärsrätten; you are on the highway within minutes. However – and despite the constant humming of vehicular traffic – the neighborhood itself is impermeable to cars. We learn this the hard way when we are moving in, trying to drive our giant storage truck as closely to our apartment unit as possible. Stopped by a boom barrier, we end up on the outskirts of the neighborhood, unable to get any closer. Luckily for us, a resident has seen us from her window, realized that we are moving in, and – keys in hand – comes out to open the gate for us. Once again, modernism juxtaposes itself with its counterpart: I immediately think of Jane Jacobs. Our new neighbor opening the boom barrier for us is truly a demonstration of the Jacobian eyes on the street, a testimony of community-building through informal surveillance. Upon closing the gate after us, our new neighbor welcomes us home with a smile.
One of our first agenda items as newcomers is to go pick up the many pieces of furniture that we have bought off of Facebook Marketplace. First on the list is a clothing rack, sold by a girl residing at Kämnärsvägen 59E. Looking at the map, the whole of Kämnärsvägen is connected through one main walkway that cuts through all courtyards. Each courtyard is surrounded by four buildings, and each building has its own number, ranging from 1–71. After its number division, each building is also subdivided into letters. We live in 33A, but our building consists of apartments 33A–33K and our neighborhood unit is also home to 35A–K, 37A–K, and 39A–K. Our compound is located right in the middle of the main walkway. We make clear that all lower numbers are west from our apartment, and all higher numbers, including 59E, are to the east. It immediately reminds me of Manhattan, where navigation is determined by streets and avenues. Even for me, who usually has zero sense of navigation, navigating the numbered streets of Manhattan is straight-forward and easy. I ponder this as we make way towards building 59. Even though everything looks the same in Kämnärsrätten, it perhaps won’t be too bad to navigate. After all, everything is – similarly to Manhattan – identifiable by number and planned in a grid. It should make sense. Aleksander and I discuss this as we walk: if we view the identical design of all buildings as a con of modernism, then at least the straight roads, as well as the easily understandable grid, should be a pro. Walking east, we soon notice that all gangway entrances are clearly signed with numbers.
What a pleasant surprise. We walk through the numbered arch of 41–47, cross the courtyard and enter the numbered arch of neighborhood unit 49–55; but after 55, the arches disappear, and we enter into a distinctly separate part of Kämnärsrätten. In contrast to the area we just passed through, this part isn’t clearly numbered, and the main walkway no longer leads us into neighborhood units. Instead, we have to make a right turn to once again be enveloped in a courtyard; and yes, there is 59! 59M, 59N, 59O… and 57A, 57B, and 57C; but no 59E. We walk around the building. More 59’s! 59A, 59B, 59C, but once again, no 59E. Around the corner is 59U, 59V, 59W, and 59X. We laugh. Seriously? There are 24 apartments that are all number 59?! That seems stupid. I wonder how many delivery people that have gotten lost here before. After many twists and turns, we finally find the door to 59E. I apologize to our clothing rack person for being late and explain that we couldn’t find our way here. She laughs empathetically and explains that she still gets lost here sometimes, even after having lived here for two years. After we have made our exchange, I look up “Kämnärsvägen 59” on Google Maps. From an aerial view, the lettering system makes a lot more sense than it is presented from the ground. Looking at the building from above, we realize that it has 12 corners, and in each of these, there are two entrances. On the ground, however, the building becomes a confusing labyrinth of corners. Alas, in reality, the rationalized and seemingly logical plan wasn’t so logical after all.
Aerial view of Kämnärsvägen 59A – 59X. Image from Google Maps.
Ground view of Kämnärsvägen 59A – 59X. Image by author
When we make our way back, the evening sky has turned
dark blue. With few streetlamps, the neighborhood is instead lit up by the
yellow shine of apartment interiors. Because everything is spaced for humans
(and not cars), all buildings are relatively close to both each other, but also
to the streets. From the courtyards and the main walkway, we can peer straight
into people’s living arrangements. I point out a bedroom overloaded
with fairy lights, we chuckle at someone using a shelf to display their insane
amount of liquor, and I see that our own storage boxes, spread out all over our
living room floor, are completely visible to the outside gaze.
Surely enough, Aleksander and I soon come to embody Jacobs’ eyes on the street. Our kitchen window faces out on the courtyard and while cooking dinner we soon see two children outside our apartment. I’ve seen these kids before. They are adorable. The boy is not older than 7, and his sister can’t be much more than 4. She sits on the back of his bike – that has tiny 16” wheels – before they both get off and let the bike fall to the ground. They squat down next to it, investigating a patch of mushrooms that has grown on the lawn. We watch them mindlessly from our window, until suddenly the little girl picks a mushroom and looks like she’s going to put it in her mouth. Aleksander almost opens our window to tell her that it might be toxic, and hand on handle has to stop himself as she tosses the mushroom to the ground. Phew. Next day, it is my turn. I am at my desk, studying. Our study overlooks the main walkway (rather than the courtyard), which is very unhelpful for my easily distracted brain. As I watch people pass by, I immediately recognize the siblings that we had seen from our kitchen window the day before. Today the little sister is on her own bicycle – that has even tinier, 12”, wheels – which makes me smile. They have two friends with them today. They bike back and forth on the walkway, speeding past my window several times. At one point, one of them is left behind. He hurriedly gets on his bicycle, but too excited, loses his balance and hits the ground. On the other side of the window, I’m holding my breath. I knew he looked too unstable to speed off like that. Cue the wailing. One of my first times cycling around the neighborhood on my own, I also crashed. I laid on the sidewalk for what felt like years, bawling, before anyone noticed me. Not my parents (who were supposed to be watching me from our third-floor balcony), but my neighbor, who was returning from walking her dog. She let me into her home, gave me band-aids, and brought me to my embarrassed parents. I still remember her act of kindness, and now, panicking, I tell Aleksander, who is right by our door, to run out and see if the boy is okay. I watch it all unfold from our window: the children have all gathered outside and guide Aleksander to the boy’s parents; and I pride myself in our civic duty.
During our first days living in Kämnärsrätten, it has continuously unfolded as a juxtaposition between the utopian comfort of modernism and the feelings of safety, community, and vibrancy that exists in the urban vision of Jane Jacobs. To me, it seems like they come together in a well-balanced mix. Despite the modernist design of Kämnärsrätten – with a plan with clear aerial emphasis and buildings of clear functionalist influences – the neighborhood is made vibrant through the transparency and voyeurism that Jacobs’ advocates for. Despite E22 running adjacent to the neighborhood, the absence of cars within Kämnärsrätten, coupled with its human-centric distances to services, facilities, and community, makes it feel both comfortable and dynamic. Despite our failure in navigating the 12-corner buildings (of which there are four!), I think Kämnärsrätten – planned for functionalist utopia but realized in the dynamism of its community – can manage to feel like home.
Frampton, Kenneth. Le Corbusier. New York: Thames & Hudson Inc, 2001.
Jacobs, Jane. The Death and Life of Great American Cities. New York: Vintage Books, 1992.
Tyrnauer, Matt, dir. Citizen Jane: Battle for the City. Los Angeles: Altimeter Film, 2016.
Our living room, completely exposed to the gaze of others. Image by author
Our
life is completely transparent. It’s charming, in a way, to voyeur into other
people’s lives, and my thoughts are immediately drawn to the Jacobian concept
of eyes on the street. Even Aleksander, who knows nothing about art history
(but who watched Citizen Jane with me) sees a connection. Because there
are windows facing the courtyard and the walkways, there is a sense of security
as we can see everyone who circulates around the block; and knowing that our
neighbors are granted this privilege, too, only amplifies that feeling.Surely enough, Aleksander and I soon come to embody Jacobs’ eyes on the street. Our kitchen window faces out on the courtyard and while cooking dinner we soon see two children outside our apartment. I’ve seen these kids before. They are adorable. The boy is not older than 7, and his sister can’t be much more than 4. She sits on the back of his bike – that has tiny 16” wheels – before they both get off and let the bike fall to the ground. They squat down next to it, investigating a patch of mushrooms that has grown on the lawn. We watch them mindlessly from our window, until suddenly the little girl picks a mushroom and looks like she’s going to put it in her mouth. Aleksander almost opens our window to tell her that it might be toxic, and hand on handle has to stop himself as she tosses the mushroom to the ground. Phew. Next day, it is my turn. I am at my desk, studying. Our study overlooks the main walkway (rather than the courtyard), which is very unhelpful for my easily distracted brain. As I watch people pass by, I immediately recognize the siblings that we had seen from our kitchen window the day before. Today the little sister is on her own bicycle – that has even tinier, 12”, wheels – which makes me smile. They have two friends with them today. They bike back and forth on the walkway, speeding past my window several times. At one point, one of them is left behind. He hurriedly gets on his bicycle, but too excited, loses his balance and hits the ground. On the other side of the window, I’m holding my breath. I knew he looked too unstable to speed off like that. Cue the wailing. One of my first times cycling around the neighborhood on my own, I also crashed. I laid on the sidewalk for what felt like years, bawling, before anyone noticed me. Not my parents (who were supposed to be watching me from our third-floor balcony), but my neighbor, who was returning from walking her dog. She let me into her home, gave me band-aids, and brought me to my embarrassed parents. I still remember her act of kindness, and now, panicking, I tell Aleksander, who is right by our door, to run out and see if the boy is okay. I watch it all unfold from our window: the children have all gathered outside and guide Aleksander to the boy’s parents; and I pride myself in our civic duty.
Aleks saves the day. Photo by the author.
During our first days living in Kämnärsrätten, it has continuously unfolded as a juxtaposition between the utopian comfort of modernism and the feelings of safety, community, and vibrancy that exists in the urban vision of Jane Jacobs. To me, it seems like they come together in a well-balanced mix. Despite the modernist design of Kämnärsrätten – with a plan with clear aerial emphasis and buildings of clear functionalist influences – the neighborhood is made vibrant through the transparency and voyeurism that Jacobs’ advocates for. Despite E22 running adjacent to the neighborhood, the absence of cars within Kämnärsrätten, coupled with its human-centric distances to services, facilities, and community, makes it feel both comfortable and dynamic. Despite our failure in navigating the 12-corner buildings (of which there are four!), I think Kämnärsrätten – planned for functionalist utopia but realized in the dynamism of its community – can manage to feel like home.
References
Frampton, Kenneth. Le Corbusier. New York: Thames & Hudson Inc, 2001.
Jacobs, Jane. The Death and Life of Great American Cities. New York: Vintage Books, 1992.
Tyrnauer, Matt, dir. Citizen Jane: Battle for the City. Los Angeles: Altimeter Film, 2016.