So please send us your photos of buildings—single-family houses, apartments, and commercial construction—where cars seem more important than the people inside. Don’t have a camera? You can also leave a comment below suggesting locations for us to look.

Need some examples?

Photo courtesy Anna Fahey.

Or how about this one?

Photo by John Stahl, Flickr.

Here’s another.

Photo by Jon Stahl, Flickr.

And one last example:

Photo by davidwilson1949, flickr.

We’re looking for those unfortunate car-centric buildings—but not just houses, also apartment buildings, garages, and shopping centers—you name it—that result from cities’ parking requirements. There is probably a building (or many) in your community begging for our attention!

Send your submissions in to Serena Larkin, serena@sightline.org. You can also post them to Sightline’s Community Photopool at Flickr: https://secure.flickr.com/groups/sightlinecommunity/. Make sure to note the photo’s location in your caption as well as any photo credit you’d like us to include.

Sightline Institute researches the best practices in public policy for a sustainable Pacific Northwest. Read more at daily.sightline.org.

flickr, Oran Viriyincy

Seattle-area parents and other caregivers may now bring open strollers aboard King County Metro buses, something that Sightline suggested in these posts. By allowing wee ones’ wheels on its buses, Metro has shown it wants to be a family-friendly transit agency.  However, to keep up with other Cascadian transit agencies, there’s more work ahead.

Metro’s new stroller policy states open strollers are allowed to board buses. The bus driver will lower the ramp or lift if requested. But once boarded, you must unpack the stroller, collapse it if possible, and hold your child. Thought you could make that sweet, silent nap last through the bus ride? Think again.

To make it easier for stroller-wielding caregivers to ride transit, Metro could look to nearby Sound Transit or Vancouver, BC’s TransLink agencies. Both make sure toting toddlers is easy and well-defined: open strollers are allowed on most buses and trains, but there are stroller size limitations and clear priorities for boarding – disabled or senior riders come first.

So while we’re happy to see Metro is stepping up its considerations for its littlest passengers—not to mention their caregivers—a few more guidelines could make Metro a national example in family-friendly transit.

Sightline Institute researches the best practices in public policy for a sustainable Pacific Northwest. Read more at daily.sightline.org.

A Jay Shafer tiny home. Flickr: nicolas.boullosa

My husband and I think we’ve found a way to pay off our mortgage early, without taking on an extra job or working nights. We’ve decided to construct a rental unit—a “mother-in-law suite”—within our home. If it pans out as we hope, the rental income will let us pay off our loan 10 years early. And who knows: it could give us a chance to live closer to family as we, or they, get on in years.

Jason and I are not alone; lots of folks across Cascadia and beyond are experimenting with adding a second (or third) dwelling to an existing single-family home. And in perhaps the most interesting development, more and more people are choosing to buck the “bigger is better” trend in North American housing. They’re taking small spaces—back yards, side lots, or freestanding garages—and using them to build tiny houses.

Ranging from 800 square feet to less than 100 square feet—a far cry from the 1000 square feet per person that has become the North American norm—these “doll houses” take many shapes and sizes. And the people who live in them are as diverse as the homes themselves. Some hope to save money on housing; others hope to “live green” by choosing a smaller space; some are trading living space for a neighborhood they love; and others want to live closer to family or friends.

Here are some of their stories.

Jay Shafer, a founding father of the tiny home movement and a co-owner of the Tumbleweed Tiny House Company, told the BBC: “People are thinking more about what really is a luxury now. Is it a 30-year mortgage, or is it just living simply and having the time to do more of what you want? And I think a lot of people are starting to really change their idea of the American Dream.”

Dee Williams decided to rethink her American Dream after building a school in Guatemala, and having a close friend get cancer made her reevaluate her priorities. “He was getting sicker and sicker, and I didn’t have the time or the money to really throw myself into helping him. I was spending a lot of time and money on my house. So the house was the easiest thing to try to get rid of,” Williams told Yes! Magazine. So she sold her 1,500 square foot Portland home and built an 84-square foot tiny home for $10,000. Now she lives without a mortgage, giving her the time and money to invest in her friends and community.

Akua Schatz and Brendon Purdy’s dream was to live near relatives, but they couldn’t afford a home in Vancouver, BC’s Dunbar neighborhood. Instead of moving to the suburbs, they decided to build a 500-square-foot laneway home in Brendon’s parents’ backyard. In a city where the average home price is $725,086, Schatz and Purdy spent $280,000 to build their home.

Brendon and Akua’s laneway home, view from the alley, photo used with permission from http://buildsmall.blogspot.com.

There’s another plus to their backyard home: Schatz and Purdy have babysitters just feet away from their front door. “It’s really a North American concept to have success tied to moving away or distancing yourself, so maybe we’re reinventing what it means to be successful, and that means keeping family close,” Schatz suggests in this video from CTV news.

The laneway home sits in the backyard of Brendon’s parent’s home.

But unlike Schatz and Purdy, who plan to eventually switch places with Purdy’s parents and live in the larger home as their family grows, Jon and Ryah Dietzen moved from their 1,500 square foot home to a 400 square foot cottage with two toddlers. They made the move for its financial freedom, but the benefits didn’t stop there. “We realized after a few months how much time, freedom, and peace we were gaining by not collecting and spending our time taking care of more ‘stuff’,” Jon Dietzen told me. By choosing a smaller house, they found a better balance between work and home life.

The Dietzens remodeled a garage into a cottage. Here is the “before” shot. Photo credit Royce Tillotson, used with permission.

A view of the remodeled space. Photo credit Royce Tillotson, used with permission.

The Dietzens prove that tiny homes can work even for a family of four, and that they’re not just for couples, seniors, or singles.

A lot in a small space: kitchen island, living room, and a bedroom behind a curtain. Photo credit Royce Tillotson, used with permission.

Small homes combat neighborhood decline brought on by shrinking household sizes. Adding people can revitalize a neighborhood, allowing schools to stay open, giving neighborhood businesses more customers, making transit service cost-effective, and saving on infrastructure costs. Infilling neighborhoods with backyard cottages helps add more people to a neighborhood, without altering its character.

Cities and towns across Cascadia are beginning to permit backyard cottages. Seattle and Vancouver both adopted rules for backyard cottages in 2009. Portland has allowed accessory dwellings since 1998; but when the city relaxed size restrictions and waived development charges in 2010, it unleashed a renaissance in small home building. Today, thousands of properties qualify for accessory units in Portland, Seattle, and Vancouver—leading to hundreds of tiny houses, typically built on a small scale by individual homeowners.

As homeowners build small dwellings, they provide lower-cost housing within the existing fabric of their neighborhood, with no government support necessary. Vancouver’s planning director, Brent Toderian, sees this as the essential value of the trend towards small homes: “[It’s] about ordinary people. Thousands of individual homeowners can do it, one by one by one. It’s publicly propelled, not corporate-propelled densification. It’s gradual. It’s discrete. It’s green.”

Now that many cities have figured out backyard cottage rules, they face a new challenge: dealing with homes even tinier than the typical accessory dwelling. Some cities’ regulations set minimum size requirements for dwellings. Others say a recreational vehicle can’t count as an ADU, which means “you can camp in your little house, but not live in it,” writes Dee Williams. Tiny houser Lina Menard suggests that “people should have the right to a tiny house as long as it accommodates their needs and desires.” But for people to exercise that right, cities will have to rethink the zoning rules that stand in the way of tiny homes.

Lina Menard with her possessions, sitting outside a tiny home she lived in for 10 months. Photo credit Lina Menard, used with permission from her blog, thisisthelittlelife.com.

After a year in a 120-square-foot tiny home, Menard has a good idea of how to live well in a small space. “I think one of the biggest lessons I’ve learned is that I’m much happier when I live with just the things I like best. My relationship to stuff has shifted dramatically over the past year and a half. I’m much less materialistic than I used to be. But I really appreciate the little touches, too. It’s not about deprivation, but about intension,” Menard told me.

Lina’s tiny home includes a sleeping loft that she shares with her cat, Raffi. Photo credit Lina Menard, used with permission from her blog, thisisthelittlelife.com.

She recognizes that tiny home living isn’t for everyone, but thinks there’s a way to broaden their appeal: the “cohousing” model, where tiny homes would be coupled with shared kitchens, laundry facilities, guest rooms, and even amenities like barbeques, workshops, and gardens. “Tiny cohousing would just push the envelope,” Menard writes in her blog. “People who lived in a tiny house community would have access to all these things, but they wouldn’t have to own all these things themselves,” Menard explains.

A view down from the sleeping loft into Lina’s main living space. Photo credit Lina Menard, used with permission from her blog, thisisthelittlelife.com.

There are a few small home cohousing communities popping up in Cascadia. Eli Spevak, owner of Orange Splot, LLC, has developed several innovative housing projects in Portland. “My goal is to keep modeling new ways of providing affordable, community-oriented houses,” Spevak told The Oregonian.

The Sabin Green cohousing community brings Spevak’s goals to fruition. Sabin Green includes four homes, built on a 75- by 100-foot lot. The lot had a single-family home and detached garage. The single-family home remains, but the detached garage was converted into a 600-square-foot cottage. A second home and a 600-square-foot accessory dwelling were built as well. The four homes face onto a central courtyard, but they also have access to shared gardens, a community room with space for visitors, and a bike storage shed. The sharing doesn’t stop with physical improvements: residents also use just one Internet service, share a newspaper subscription, and meet for weekly dinners.

Sabin Green before its transformation. Photo credit Eli Spevak, used with permission.

The new view from the street. Photo credit Eli Spevak, used with permission.

The project is home to a diverse group, including a young couple, retirees, a single woman, and a small family. Residents Laura Ford and Josh Devine paid just under $150,000 for their 530 square foot home. They downsized from a 700-square-foot apartment, but see the loss of square footage as worth the cost. “If you live by yourself, you might not be able to afford the brick plaza, the teahouse, the gardens,” Devine told The Oregonian.

The detached garage was converted into a separate residence. Photo credit Eli Spevak, used with permission.

Back deck from one Sabin Green home shows the view into the shared courtyard. Photo credit Steve Hambuchen, used with permission.

Ruth’s Garden Cottages—covered by Sightline here—takes tiny home communities to another level. On a 50- by 100-foot lot in Northeast Portland that housed one small dwelling, Orange Splot added two tiny cottages, each less than 200 square feet in size. The miniature structures have room for a sleeping loft, a bathroom, and a well-proportioned front porch. The cottages make use of the kitchen in the main home. A shared garden takes up the front 50 feet of the lot.

The view of Ruth’s Cottages from the street. Photo credit Mike O’Brien, used with permission.

The main house contains a full kitchen that all Ruth’s Cottages residents can use, but the cottages also have modest kitchen facilities for quick snacks. Photo credit Mike O’Brien, used with permission.

Front porches and a common courtyard provide outdoor living “rooms.” Photo credit Mike O’Brien, used with permission.

The recession and housing crisis, combined with changing demographics, have led many of us to reevaluate what we want in a home. More and more folks are looking for homes within walking distance of jobs, stores, and transit—and have proven willing to trade square footage for a vibrant neighborhood. At the same time, millennials increasingly look for alternatives to the car; baby boomers have reached the age where they don’t need a big home in the ‘burbs; and more and more families are choosing to live in multi-generational households.

Tiny houses are a great solution for all these needs. So whether you are a recent graduate wanting to be free from high rent, or a family looking to live without a mortgage, or you want to turn your detached garage into a mother-in-law suite, a small home might be for you. As Marcus Barksdale, who built his own small home in Asheville, North Carolina, said in this interview: “It would be really neat if more people sought to have smaller spaces, because it would free them up for a larger life.”

Sightline Institute researches the best practices in public policy for a sustainable Pacific Northwest. Read more at daily.sightline.org.

flickr, Vagabond Shutterbug

Earlier this year, I shared my stroller-on-the-bus hell story. The villain in the tale was surprising: King County Metro, otherwise a hero in my book. Like many transit agencies across North America, Metro says kids cannot stay in their strollers on board buses—and that policy is a giant problem for families with babies and toddlers. Unpacking a stroller, folding it, and hauling everything onto a transit vehicle even one time is enough to convince many parents never to attempt a bus ride again.

Well, guess what? Dozens of Metro drivers on dozens of Metro buses already welcome aboard moms and other caregivers pushing their kids in prams: no stroller folding necessary. No rogue pram guerrillas, these drivers do so in accordance with their orders from above. So do certain drivers at the county transit agency in neighboring Pierce County, which also bans loaded strollers.

Contradiction? No. Sound Transit, the Puget Sound regional express bus service provider, has strong pro-stroller policies on most of its vehicles, including not only its light-rail cars but also most of its buses. (Exceptions are the tall, narrow-aisled, Greyhound-like vehicles it sends up and down I-5.) And Sound Transit contracts with King County Metro and Pierce Transit to operate its buses.

All that Metro and Pierce Transit need to do to catch up with North America’s stroller-friendly leaders is to tell all of its drivers to do what some of its drivers already do: follow Sound Transit’s stroller rules.

Specifically, Sound Transit, like greater Vancouver, BC’s TransLink, lets strollers roll aboard buses and trains. Strollers are allowed in the priority seating area at the front of the bus. Drivers have discretion to ask that a stroller be folded if it is creating a hazard. TransLink sets size limits. Both agencies prioritize the front seats: disabled riders get first dibs, followed by elderly riders, and finally caregivers with strollers.

Such rules are reasonable and, in fact, standard. Agencies with pro-stroller policies still set limits. A 2011 Transportation Research Board report indicates that 65 percent of transit agencies with stroller policies require strollers to park in a specific location. Sixty-three percent of agencies require strollers to be collapsible (but not necessarily collapsed).

Examples of pro-stroller policies dot the map of North America. Just north of King County, Snohomish County’s Community Transit allows loaded strollers aboard, although its policy is not well defined on its website. In 2006, Tri Delta Transit of Contra Costa, California, retrofitted its bus fleet to create stroller areas on board. San Francisco Muni recently began discussing lifting its stroller ban to “keep families from fleeing the city.”

Safety is often cited as a key reason for banning open strollers on buses. Yet many agencies address safety concerns with simple policies. The Chicago Transit Authority allows children to stay in strollers while riding transit, but they must be seated and secured; other agencies specify that strollers must have brakes activated.  In Montreal, caregivers must face strollers towards the rear of STL buses. And the Alameda-Contra Costa Transit District specifies that the caregiver must keep a hand on the stroller while the bus is moving.

Photo by Alyse Nelson.

Transit agencies in King and Pierce Counties have examples of pro-stroller policies all around them. They would do well to copy from the playbooks of other transit agencies: set clear size limits, designate stroller space, and prioritize use of that space for different groups of riders. Then, let unfolded strollers roll aboard.

That’s all it would take to start giving moms, dads, and other caregivers the kind of treatment that makes transit a viable option for them.

Guest blogger Alyse Nelson is a city planner for a small town in Kitsap County, Washington. She spends some of her spare time researching for Sightline on topics such as pedestrian carts, cargo bikes, and family-friendly courtyard housing.

Sightline Institute researches the best practices in public policy for a sustainable Pacific Northwest. Read more at daily.sightline.org.

Photo courtesy of Alyse Nelson

Editor’s Note: As noted in the comments below, Seattle blogger Lynn Hamilton has started a petition on the topic of strollers.

I recall vividly how embarrassed I felt the first time I waited for the bus with my baby boy—he bundled up in his stroller and me expecting the bus driver to welcome me aboard, lowering the wheelchair lift so we could roll on in style. In the stores and sidewalks of my neighborhood, people smiled as we ran errands. They made way for us—slowing so we could pass on a congested sidewalk or holding doors open while we rolled into a shop. Then the bus arrived. Instead of lowering the lift, the driver told me to fold Orion’s stroller. My cheeks burned red as I hastily unpacked—diaper bag, toys, blanket, and groceries—while holding onto my squirming bundle of joy. Then, with one hand, I attempted to fold the stroller and carry the load aboard, knowing that everyone was watching me, passengers cursing under their breaths and the driver reviewing his timetable.

For most parents, an experience like that would have eliminated any thoughts of ever again taking their wheels on the bus. But I had no real choice.

My husband and I had committed to staying in our apartment overlooking The Ave, the main street running through Seattle’s University District. Some parents trade up to a minivan or SUV, but we had sold our two-door Civic. We gained a child and shed a car.

Alyse Nelson

And, in most ways, I loved our car-free life. We explored our neighborhood together. People stopped to greet Orion on the sidewalk. I could point out interesting buildings or window displays. Outside our grocery store, the man selling the Real Change newspaper would always belt out, “Have a great day, little dude!” We soaked in the diversity of the city: new smells, sounds, and people. When we went somewhere in a car, Orion and I were both miserable. Seated in the backseat in his rear-facing car seat, he would often wail.

flickr, Vagabond Shutterbug

But King County Metro was the sore spot of my car-free life. Agency rules required me to fold Orion’s stroller. Holding all of the stroller’s contents and Orion, I then had to find a seat before the bus lurched forward. The challenge didn’t end once on board. I had to squish into a seat with all of our stuff and attempt to keep Orion from grabbing the stroller’s dirty wheels for the duration of the ride. Once we arrived at our stop, I had to reverse the whole ordeal.

Alyse Nelson

My bus-riding fiascos led to an obsession with strollers: I was known to buy and sell them on Craigslist several times a month. My goal was to find that perfect stroller that I could really fold with one hand. I had a closet full of strollers, some undergoing testing and others, having failed, pending Craigslist pickup. It took seven strollers, but I found one that worked—the Britax Preview(pictured above).

It wasn’t until my young family spent six months in Copenhagen, however, that I thought much about King County Metro’s stroller-folding rules.

Alyse Nelson

Copenhageners cart babies in enormous strollers (pictured above and below), rolling cribs that dwarf our umbrella stroller and do not fold at all.

Alyse Nelson

And guess what? They are welcome aboard Copenhagen’s public transit, unfolded and unemptied.

Alyse Nelson

Caregivers with strollers use priority seating at the front of the bus (as pictured below). While buses only fit two strollers at once, busy routes’ service is so frequent that the wait is never long.

flickr, storebukkebruse

Stroller-friendly policies extend to Copenhagen’s train system. The rapid transit system, Metro, has open areas on each train (below) that hold caregivers with strollers, riders in wheelchairs, and bicyclists.

flickr, sevensixfive

Doors that open to this area feature a bicycle icon on the train platform where riders with wheels congregate. Bold graphicson trains also orient riders.

flickr, glamismac

Car-free parenting in Copenhagen was a breeze: no more frantic stroller folding for me, and Orion loved staying in his stroller. Arriving back in Cascadia, I decided to see how other transit systems compared.

Portland’s TriMet buses are not much further along than Seattle’s King County Metro. Open strollers can be brought on board but then must be immediately folded. The only advantage to this policy is that it’s hard to forget the diaper bag at the bus stop. After deciding to be a one-car family, Portland mom Rachele wanted to take the bus to the grocery store with her son in a stroller. She timed her trip so it wouldn’t interfere with peak commuting hours. But Rachele learned that if she wanted to take the bus, she’d have to empty the stroller and hold her baby during the ride. Requesting tips from TriMet, the agency unhelpfully answered:

Dear Rachele: That is a tough one for you. Trimet’s policy is that you can leave the baby in the stroller while boarding but after boarding must take the baby out of the stroller, fold the stroller and hold the baby. I am not sure what you are going to do with your groceries. You may have to have someone go with you.

Light rail in both Portland and Seattle allow open strollers aboard low-floor cars. Sound Transit’s Central Link light rail, which connects downtown Seattle to SeaTac, opened after I had left for Copenhagen (and, more recently, a small town in Kitsap County). Local dad Brice Maryman, however, reports that Link makes car-lite parenting dreamy. He, his wife Bridgette, and their son Owen walk to the station daily, ride downtown together, and then drop Owen at daycare on their way to their offices. Before Owen, the couple commuted by bus, but Owen’s arrival changed everything. “Light Rail is just so much more kid friendly, and it’s a big reason why we decided to buy our house where we did,” says Brice. “We can leave the stroller open and sit on the seats with him between us.” Just like my son Orion, Owen prefers public transportation to driving. “Owen cries when circumstances dictate that we need to drive,” Brice says. (Pictured below, Owen watches as a tow truck clears the tracks of a vehicle whose driver tried to outrun Link.)

Brice Maryman, photo used with permission

Like Copenhagen, Vancouver’s TransLink allows open strollers in the priority seating area at the front of the bus. If the area is already full or a rider with a mobility impairment boards, caregivers must fold their strollers and move back. TransLink has also committed to improving accessibility by purchasing low-floor buses since 1996. Low-floor buses and trains make it easier for all riders to board, no ramp necessary. A redesign of SkyTrain carsalso increased capacity by a third and provided more space for riders with wheels.

Beyond Cascadia, some places look better for stroller pushers. Like Vancouver and Copenhagen, the Chicago Transit Authority welcomes strollers aboard public transit. The CTA broadcasts its stroller-friendly policies with notice boards on buses and a YouTube video. While I had no clue that King County Metro required folded strollers, the CTA is making sure its policies are publicized. And I would have loved having Vancouver or Chicago’s pro-stroller policy in Seattle.

An open-stroller policy is a crucial first step that can make an immediate difference for moms, dads, and others across the Northwest who care for young children.

flickr, reinvented

After that, opportunities abound. Once strollers are legalized aboard transit, agencies can announce the improvement, like the CTA has done with notices and videos. As buses and trains need replacement, agencies have the chance to purchase low-floor vehicles, which TransLink has made a priority. Improvements to bus and train stops can make it easier for caregivers with strollers. Chicago mom Jessie Williams wanted to take the train more often, but because only every fifth train station had an elevator, she rode the bus. Copenhagen’s bus stops had electronic transit-trackers that were linked to GPS on buses. You didn’t have to own a smart phone to know when the next bus would arrive, and instead of peppering you with the frequent, “When is the bus coming?” your child can watch the bus stop tracker count down the minutes.

flickr, Harald Walker

Allowing strollers on buses may seem trivial. Only 6 percent of northwesterners are under five, the main stroller years. But all families need affordable alternatives to driving, our economy needs weaning from fossil fuels, and our whole society needs to move beyond carbon quick. With more strollers on the bus, fewer cars would clog the roads. Transit ridership would grow as caregivers transport tots to the doctor, play dates, and the grocery store. Parents could bring kids to daycare as they head to the office, building more family time into busy days. Welcoming stroller wheels onto buses and trains has long-lasting benefits—kids will grow up seeing public transit as a normal part of the daily routine.

The alternative is that we’ll raise another generation that sees driving as the norm. If we accommodate the youngest urban dwellers on transit, they will develop the skills to keep using transit as they grow. By age three, Orion could explain the differences between streetcars, light rail, and trains. When we were running errands, he would exclaim with pride, “Bus stop!” Then, he’d plant himself on the seat and ask when the bus would arrive. Now six, Orion is the member of the family responsible for pulling the cord when we near our stop. Bringing my wheels on the bus was often a challenge, but at least I know I’ve helped develop a transit habit in my son.

Sightline Institute researches the best practices in public policy for a sustainable Pacific Northwest. Read more at daily.sightline.org.

Sunnyside Piazza, by DanielEtra, flickr

What if all it took to build better neighborhoods was a little paint?

Walking in Southeast Portland, I once stumbled on a horizontal rendition of a sunflower, painted curb to curb on the intersection of Southeast 33^rd and Yamhill (pictured above). Sunnyside Piazza, it is called, which may seem a bit much for a splash of color on asphalt, but in person, it seemed fitting. This whimsical design, interrupting the functional but monotonous gray of Portland’s street grid, felt like a somewhere. It seemed like a place deserving a name. It even felt like a “piazza.”

That was in 2002. I later learned that the Sunnyside Piazza was the second painted public square in Portland, facilitated by the non-profit City Repair Project. Now, dozens of painted plazas, dubbed Intersection Repairs, pepper the map not just of Portland but also of Los Angeles, New York, St. Paul, and Seattle.

Share-It-Square, Portland, by donkeycart, flickr

It all started in the mid-1990s with Share-It-Square, in Portland’s Sellwood neighborhood, where architect and City Repair co-founder Mark Lakeman lives. After visiting villages in Central America where residents gather around common spaces, Lakeman decided to bring similar spaces to Portland. “Putting the public space back where it’s supposed to be may not sound like a huge change,” Lakeman says, “but it has a profound effect on the social culture. . . . We know that Americans are more lonely and isolated than ever before, but we don’t realize that the absence of cohesion in American communities is totally related to the absence of places where people can actually build that.”

Looking at his own neighborhood, Lakeman decided to transform the intersection of Sherret and 9^th from a car-dominant space to a public place (documented in this video). He thought this change fitting, as cultures throughout history have come together at crossroads. Of course, there was still the question of how to take an intersection—an endlessly repeated but utterly non-convivial fixture of the city’s street grid—and turn it into a place. Lakeman and his neighbors’ brilliance was in the simplicity of their brainstorm: paint a picture.

Lakeman and his neighbors gathered community support and approached the City of Portland. The Portland Department of Transportation (PDOT) was taken aback by the idea of painting a design in the middle of the intersection. One city official told Lakeman, “That’s public space. Nobody can use it.” The residents went guerrilla: they painted without permission.

PDOT was furious. Officials threatened to sandblast the design off the roadway. But the neighborhood gained political support from Councilmember Charlie Hales and Mayor Vera Katz. When the city surveyed the neighbors living near Share-It-Square, they found residents had positive perceptions of less crime, slower traffic, and increased neighborhood involvement. Seeing that the painted intersection hadn’t cost the government a dime, the politicians quickly moved to pass a city ordinance that allowed painted intersections throughout Portland.

More neighborhoods began painting intersections and Intersection Repairs spread. After working together, newly empowered residents were able to enjoy their local gathering spots. Once they saw the value of public spaces, residents wanted to make more improvements. Adjacent to Share-It-Square, residents have added amenities that double as public art. For instance…

Tea Station, Share-It-Square, by donkeycart, flickr

there is a 24-hour tea station that neighbors keep stocked with tea and hot water…

Sellwood Bee hive, by Robbi Baba, flickr

a local newspaper stand, fashioned as a beehive because it houses the community newspaper, the Sellwood Bee…

Exchange station, Share-It-Square, by Robbi Baba, flickr

an exchange station where neighbors can leave items they don’t want any more or give away extra produce from their gardens…

Community library, Share-It-Square, by Robbi Baba, flickr

a community library to leave or take books…

Play structure, Share-It-Square, by glowingz, flickr

and a children’s play structure where kids can gather while parents lounge on nearby benches or peruse the information kiosk (below).

“It’s not about the paint,” says Professor Jan Semenza who lives near the Sunnyside Piazza and has researched intersection repairs. “It’s about neighbors creating something bigger than themselves.” As an everyday intersection becomes someplace special, residents begin to experience the value of community. Neighbors paint themselves out of a corner – of the intersection, of their individual homes – and into the middle of the street. By turning an intersection from a dividing line between neighbors into a gathering place, residents begin to solve the problems that plague neighborhoods and cities. Where isolation existed, they find community. Where cars dominated, they create a people place. With a little paint, neighbors are solving big problems.

Info kiosk, Share-It-Square, by Robbi Baba, flickr

Ladybug, Wallingford, Seattle, by bmaryman, flickr

Once purely a Portland phenomenon, intersection repairs are popping up in other cities. In Seattle, a City Repair chapter formed and facilitated several intersection painting projects including a ladybug in Wallingford and a turtle in Fremont. The ladybug turned six this year, and residents meet annually to repaint the mural and hold a block party. Eric Higbee led the ladybug painting. “Our goal is to cut down traffic and bring the community together and create a sense of neighborhood,” Higbee told the Seattle Times.

Portland State University professor and City Repair organizer Pedro Ferbel-Azcarate confirms the traffic-calming value of street painting: “When you have a neighborhood place where there are people on the streets, the cars will slow down.”

Ladybug, Seattle, by bmaryman, flickr

Turtle, Fremont, Seattle, by justsmartdesign, flickr

While her parents initially thought of painting the street at 41^st and Interlake Avenue North in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, eight-year-old Ella Sauer came up with the turtle theme. The family then approached neighbor Bill Lindberg with the plan, and Lindberg helped bring residents together and work through the permitting process. The turtle cost a little more than a thousand dollars, including Seattle Department of Transportation permits; the residents received a Neighborhood Matching Fund grant for half of the cost. Painting their street brought neighbors together in a way not typically possible during the daily routine: “This is the only way I’m able to meet my neighbors on a personal level,” said Kate Gengo, a four-year resident of the neighborhood.

St. Johns and Central, Portland, by City Repair, flickr

At its core, intersection painting is about community empowerment. In Portland, City Repair doesn’t seek out neighborhoods to encourage residents to paint the street. They wait for neighbors to come to them. City Repair will then work as facilitators, helping residents choose a design and encouraging them as they knock on doors to garner support for the painting. While the painted mural is a beautiful end product, it’s the relationships and sense of community formed through the process that makes these places become villages within the city.

“Fredas Tree,” NE 56th and Stanton, Portland, by City Repair,

The process of creating a public square empowers the residents and builds relationships, but it also leaves evidence on the ground that something is different in the neighborhood. “It sounds whimsical, but then you go walk around [the Intersection Repair] on a Saturday afternoon and you get it,” says supporter and former Portland city councilor Charlie Hales. Neighbors are talking, cars drive slower, and you can tell you are in a place. When people drive or walk through an Intersection Repair project, they are inspired to reshape their own neighborhoods. City Repair now has facilitated hundreds of community-building projects throughout Portland.

Sunnyside Piazza, by donkeycart, flickr

Sunnyside Piazza, by City Repair, flickr

Jan Semeza, a professor of public health at Portland State University and a neighbor of the Sunnyside Piazza, decided to turn his neighborhood into a laboratory. He had students canvass the Sunnyside neighborhood and also survey a similar neighborhood without an Intersection Repair. While there are not enough data to pinpoint the exact reasons, it appears that the Sunnyside Piazza neighbors considered themselves healthier (86 percent in excellent/very good general health compared to 70 percent), happier (57 percent felt “hardly ever depressed” versus 40 percent), and content with their neighborhood (65 percent said their neighborhood was “an excellent place to live” versus 35 percent). Also, police calls from the Sunnyside Piazza neighborhood decreased after the painting project.

Near Share-It-Square, Mark Lakeman sees residents staying rooted in the community. “Americans move every four to seven years,” Lakeman says, “and that period of time is visibly lengthening right around that intersection because people want to live there. Families are clustering around it, having kids or bringing their kids, so there are more children—and more shared childcare, and more adults interacting with kids on that street.”

Share-It-Square, aerial view, from Google Maps. View Larger Map

Flying over cities, whether in an airplane or virtually (above), streets and homes extend for miles, with little to distinguish them. But then you see some color: a painted intersection in a sea of roofs and concrete. These are villages within the city—where locals have come together and said this is a place. A painted intersection might seem trivial. It doesn’t cost much or last very long. But the important work is done behind the scenes. Residents join together. They fashion gathering spaces. And it all starts with some paint.

Guest blogger Alyse Nelson is a city planner for a small town in Kitsap County, Washington. She spends some of her spare time researching for Sightline on topics such as pedestrian carts, cargo bikes, and family-friendly courtyard housing. She last wrote for Sightline about reclaiming urban alleys as vibrant public spaces. Alan Durning edited this post.

Sightline Institute researches the best practices in public policy for a sustainable Pacific Northwest. Read more at daily.sightline.org.

by Mira Poling, International Sustainability Institute

Once a stinking strip of menace that was friendlier to rats and crime than to hummus and dancing, Seattle’s Nord Alley is an urban place transformed. Cleared of dumpsters and filth, it now hosts art exhibits, blooming flowers, and a mobbed monthly party (pictured above). Nord is the leading edge of a trend just catching on in Cascadia: the reclamation of downtown alleys as lively, even lovely, public realms.

Here’s Nord Alley before its transformation. . .

by Karen Davis Smith, courtesy of International Sustainability Institute

. . . and after. The dumpsters are gone, and the waste collector now visits twice a day, picking up sorted and bagged trash, compost, and recycling. Instead, there’s a photography exhibit.

by Erika Schultz, courtesy of International Sustainability Institute

Another before view . . .

by Karen Davis Smith, courtesy of International Sustainability Institute

. . . and after, at one of many parties to watch high-stakes soccer games on a big screen.

by Jordan Lewis, courtesy of International Sustainability Institute

Led by International Sustainability Institute’s Todd Vogel, Nord Alley’s change-over required limited physical improvement. Vogel and his neighbors removed the boards from the windows, and bought some yard furniture and plants from Craigslist. Seattle’s Alley Art Project assembled business owners, artists, and the City of Seattle to hang a glass and metal sculpture over the Nord Alley (video, at 5:50). Most important, Vogel  began hosting parties to coincide with the monthly art walk in Nord’s Pioneer Square neighborhood. Here is the Seattle Latin Fusion band Manigua at a recent event:

Manigua: Jose Gude (Guitar), Alberto Vega (Bass), Gabriel Martinez, Tor Dietrichson (congas), photo by Mira Poling, courtesy of International Sustainability Institute

To Vogel, alleys are a neglected opportunity in the urban landscape: “Alleys are a huge wasted asset, but it won’t require too much to reclaim them.” (More from Vogel and footage of the alley are here [video]). University of Washington students Mary Fialko and Jennifer Hampton agree. They studied downtown Seattle’s alleys and determined that laneways cover almost half as much space as all of the zone’s parks, squares, and existing pedestrian-oriented streets. In other words, reclaiming alleys could increase by almost half the pedestrian area of downtown Seattle.

Imagine a Seattle in which the half of downtown blocks with alleys have spaces more like Seattle’s one truly great alley: Post Alley, pictured below at its south end. . .

flickr, yo_tuco

. . . and its main north section.

flickr, Kathryn_lynn

But Post Alley is in the tourist-oriented Pike Place Market. That’s why the transformation of the unremarkable Nord Alley could be such an important glimpse of the future: such workaday alleys have huge potential. In places across the urban Northwest and beyond, neighbors are beginning to reclaim their lanes, turning them into pedestrian passages, marketplaces, and even gathering places—car-free, human-scaled, edgy and intimate. The possibilities of these neglected urban courtyards are ample, and city-makers are taking note.

by Travis Martin, courtesy of Livable Laneways Vancouver

In Vancouver, BC, a non-profit called Livable Laneways has revamped an alley in the city’s Mount Pleasant neighborhood. (Pictured above is its Hula-Hoop sculpture. More photos here). Working with community members and an arts group called Vancouver Design Nerds, and supported by the city’s livability initiative VIVA Vancouver, Livable Laneways is transforming an underused alley into a pedestrian link. The group has added planter boxes, road barriers, and paint. It has also invited neighbors into the alley with markets, art installations, and other public events. Viva Vancouver, for its part, is watching closely, and hoping that success in Mount Pleasant will create a template it can replicate elsewhere, as called for in the city’s Greenest City Action Plan.

flickr, m_kasahara

In California, San Francisco’s Mission District has stunning murals (excellent slideshow), some painted as early as the 1970s, that tell the social and political story of the Mission and its people. (Pictured above is one in Balmy Alley.) But it is San Francisco’s Chinatown neighborhood—arguably the most densely settled neighborhood in the United States outside of Manhattan—that  is home to the more-impressive re-do of its alleys. In 1998, San Francisco approved for Chinatown the only alley master plan then in force in the United States. The plan calls for renovating 31 alleys. The prime mover behind the plan was the non-profit Chinatown Development Commission, which saw reviving alleys as a way to reclaim community assets. Chinatown’s alleys are integral to the neighborhood’s pedestrian network (as illustrated by the photo below). So far, San Francisco has updated almost a dozen of Chinatown’s alleys, installing new paving, street furniture, stormwater features, and public art.

flickr, bluewaikiki

Meanwhile, San Francisco architect David Winslow has been advancing the redevelopment of the Linden “living alley” (pictured below) in the Hayes Valley neighborhood. Winslow wrote in the San Francisco Chronicle: “Nearly 30 percent of urban space is given to streets, including alleys.” On Linden, change proceeded in steps: a property owner fixed up a decaying building, a coffee shop moved in, the community developed a plan for the length of the alley, landscaping created green space and provided a place for rainwater to percolate into the soil, and finally the city repaved the alley so it would all be on one level, with no distinction between street and sidewalk.

flickr, niallkennedy

Concerted alley renovation efforts remain young in San Francisco, as they are in Cascadia, but they’re far advanced in Melbourne, Australia, a city that has been working for two decades to create a pedestrian-friendly downtown. Melbourne’s laneways are at the heart of the effort. The  central city is built on a grid of large blocks, and alleys cut the blocks up into pedestrian-scaled pieces. Melbourne’s initiative has advanced far beyond the plants-and-street-furniture phase of Seattle’s Nord Alley. It has not only permitted but encouraged the remodeling of its alleys into outdoor cafés, marketplaces, and other pedestrian Meccas. Melbourne also vigorously promotes street art projects in its alleys (good video). The results of these efforts, captured in this Streetfilms video, have been spectacular.

Rob Adams, Melbourne’s director of city design, says the change occurred as Melbourne began to require that every development in the city take a careful look at how buildings meet the street. The key to thriving pedestrian places, he says, is in the details of urban life (like the traffic-blocking bollards below in Melbourne’s Hosier Alley). It’s in the quality of the public art and paving, rather than in big architectural projects. Adams says, “We’ve got to rediscover the small.”

flickr, Mimi_K

In the alley renovation league, Melbourne has leaped into the global lead after commissioning a 1994 study by Danish architect and planner Jan Gehl of Gehl Architects. Instead of putting the study on the shelf as so many cities might have, Melbourne quickly set to work implementing its recommendations, with the kinds of happy results visible in the alley mural pictured below.

flickr, ultrakml

It’s a good sign, therefore, that Seattle hired Gehl Architects to perform a similar downtown study. Released in 2009, it includes recommendations to view alleys as “Blue-Green Lungs” of downtown—places to grow plants, perform water filtration, and provide back routes for people on foot and bikes. Downtown Seattle has alleys in about half of its blocks, but most only function as service ways and do not have the paving, lighting, or building details that are important to attracting pedestrians.

As projects like Nord Alley and Vancouver’s Livable Laneways spread in Cascadia, alleys will evolve from minuses—stinking service roads—to pluses. Melbourne’s Rob Adams sums up the process: “To change cities will always be a slow process and cannot be achieved overnight through silver-bullet solutions of grand architecture. It is more about the slow incremental improvement of the most important piece of public space in the city—namely, our streets.”

That’s a lesson that Todd Vogel and the creators of Nord Alley have already mastered.

Livable Laneways has yet to schedule its next event, but the next Nord Alley party is on September 1, from 5:30 to 8:30 pm. Details here.

Guest blogger Alyse Nelson is a city planner for a small town in Kitsap County, Washington. She spends some of her spare time researching for Sightline on topics such as pedestrian carts and cargo bikes. She last wrote for Sightline about Denmark’s family-friendly courtyard housing. Alan Durning also contributed to this post.

Sightline Institute researches the best practices in public policy for a sustainable Pacific Northwest. Read more at daily.sightline.org.

Our Copenhagen apartment was in an old neighborhood. It was on a commercial street full of shops, with buses passing every two minutes. Our street was lined with marvelous Danish bikeways that made the entire city our two-wheeled home. I had lived in a compact neighborhood in Seattle, so I was already sold on urban life.

But I discovered that Copenhagen, though far denser than Seattle, is also dramatically more friendly to children. Like much urban housing in the City of Cyclists, our apartment overlooked a green and spacious courtyard. Gated where it met the sidewalk and shared only with others in our building and adjacent buildings on our block, it had play equipment, benches, chairs, and barbeques set amid gardens, lawns, and full-grown trees. It filled the interior of our block; it was like having a park inside your house. (The photo above is the wintertime view of the courtyard from my kitchen window.

Our courtyard made all the difference for me as a mom. I could walk downstairs and spend a quarter hour with my son on the courtyard’s play equipment, then pop back inside to avoid a rain shower or get a snack. I could look out my kitchen window in the very heart of the city and watch scenes of family life unfolding: a father hanging a hammock, a boy learning to ride a bicycle, a woman tending her garden, a clump of neighbors chatting while their children dug in the sandbox. I could picture my son growing older there, playing by himself in the courtyard as a toddler, throwing a ball with a friend as a school-ager, and as a teen, returning from the city beyond to this safe haven of green.

Google Earth aerial image of my Copenhagen neighborhood.

When I came back to Seattle, I felt deprived. I wanted a courtyard, but they’re rare in North America. Perhaps as a result, families with children almost all strive to live in single-family houses with yards. Urban lots (and therefore lawns) are expensive, so families often head far into the suburbs to find affordable, private outdoor space for their children. Perhaps that’s why urban areas have fewer children than suburban areas. In the city of Seattle, for example, families with children account for only 20 percent of households, while in the rest of surrounding King County, families with children make up 37 percent of households. This outward spread of families with children contributes to sprawl and long commutes; it also undermines community stability as adults move outward to have children and inward again as empty-nesters.

Still, I’m hopeful for the future of courtyards in our region. A few buildings here and there have them, and a national organization is promoting them under the name community greens. Community greens convert existing city blocks, turning underutilized places into community spaces. Private backyards become shared residential greens by taking down fences and designing the space to fit the residents’ needs. Community greens offer safe, accessible places for children’s play; increase community bonds, which improves safety and security as neighbors get to know each other; raise property values by turning often-neglected spaces into amenities; and make urban living more inviting and attractive to families with children.

Old and New: A passive open space area in Charlotthaven (right), and the play area outside my apartment buildingin Amager (left).

In Copenhagen, many new developments continue to feature courtyard-style housing. Charlottehaven, for example, (pictured above) provides a variety of courtyard spaces including a basketball court, passive landscape areas with seating, and children’s play structures. In existing neighborhoods, Copenhageners are redesigning the courtyards of some older apartment buildings. In such areas, different apartment buildings are grouped around the block, but the courtyard of each building is fenced from the courtyard of the next building. Now, the renewal efforts are combining these piecemeal courtyards into larger, block-wide ones—the same strategy as community greens.

When parents I know talk about the limits of compact communities for young children, I nod with understanding. And I wish they could experience Danish-style courtyards as I have. Once you’ve lived in a building wrapped around a park, a fenced yard just seems second best.

Thanks to Dara P. O’Byrne for the use of her 2006 University of Washington Master’s thesis Reversing the Trend: Strategies to Make Center City Seattle Livable and Attractive to Families with Children.

Sightline Institute researches the best practices in public policy for a sustainable Pacific Northwest. Read more at daily.sightline.org.