Christopher alexander - A pattern language

. . . in an occasional neighborhood, which functions as the focus of a group of neighborhoods, or in a boundary between neighborhoods— neighborhood boundary(15)—or on the promenade which forms the focus of a large community— promenade (31), night life(33)—there is a special need for something larger and more raucous than a street cafe.

A public drinking house, where strangers and friends are drinking companions, is a natural part of any large community. But all too often, bars degenerate and become nothing more than anchors for the lonely. Robert Sommer has described this in “Design for Drinking,” Chapter 8 of his book Personal Space, Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, 1969.

... it is not difficult in any American city to find examples of the bar where meaningful contact is at a minimum. V. S. Pritchett describes the lonely men in New York City sitting speechlessly on a row of barstools, with their arms triangled on the bar before a bottle of beer, their drinking money before them. If anyone speaks to his neighbor under these circumstances, he is likely to receive a suspicious stare for his efforts. The barman is interested in the patrons as customers—he is there to sell, they are there to buy. . . .

Another visiting Englishman makes the same point when he describes the American bar as a “hoked up saloon; the atmosphere is as chilly as the beer . . . when I asked a stranger to have a drink, he looked at me as if I were mad. In England if a guy’s a stranger, . . . each guy buys the other a drink. You enjoy each other’s company, and everyone is happy. . . .” (Tony Kirby, “Who’s Crazy?” The Village Voice f January 26, 1967, p. 39.)

Let us consider drinking more in the style of these English pubs. Drink helps people to relax and become open with one another, to sing and dance. But it only brings out these qualities when the setting is right. We think that there are two critical qualities for the setting:

I. The place holds a crowd that is continuously mixing be-

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groups we have named might choose to adopt the following patterns:

A. Region: independent regions

DISTRIBUTION OF TOWNS

CITY COUNTRY FINGERS . . .

B. City: mosaic of subcultures

SCATTERED WORK

THE MAGIC OF THE CITY . . .

C. Community: community of 7000

SUBCULTURE BOUNDARY . . .

4. Each neighborhood, community, or city is then free to find various ways of persuading its constituent groups and individuals to implement these patterns gradually.

In every case this will hinge on some kind of incentive. However, the actual incentives chosen might vary greatly, in their power, and degree of enforcement. Some patterns, like city country fingers, might be made a matter of regional law—since nothing less can deter money-hungry developers from building everywhere. Other patterns, like main gateway, birth places, still water, might be purely voluntary. And other patterns might have various kinds of incentives, intermediate between these extremes.

For example, network of paths and cars, accessible greens, and others might be formulated so that tax breaks will be given to those development projects which help to bring them into existence.

5. As far as possible, implementation should be loose and voluntary, based on social responsibility, and not on legislation or coercion.

Suppose, for example, that there is a citywide decision

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tween functions—the bar, the dance floor, a fire, darts, the bathrooms, the entrance, the seats ; and these activities are concentrated and located round the edge so that they generate continual criss-crossing.

2. The seats should be largely in the form of tables for four to eight set in open alcoves—that is, tables that are defined for small groups, with walls, columns, and curtains—but open at both ends.

The open alcove—supports the fluidity of the scene.

This form helps sustain the life of the group and lets people come in and out freely. Also, when the tables are large, they invite people to sit down with a stranger or another group.

Therefore:

Somewhere in the community at least one big place where a few hundred people can gather, with beer and wine, music, and perhaps a half-dozen activities, so that people are continuously criss-crossing from one to another.

♦J*

Put the tables in two-ended alcoves, roomy enough for people to pass through on their way between activities— alcoves(179) ; provide a fire, as the hub of one activity— the fire (1 8 1) ;and a variety of ceiling heights to correspond to different social groupings— ceiling height variety(190). For the shape of the building, gardens, parking, and surroundings, begin with BUILDING COMPLEX(95) . . . .

91 traveler’s inn*

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. . . any town or city has visitors and travelers passing through, and these visitors will naturally tend to congregate around the centers of activity— magic of the city ( i o), activity nodes

(30), PROMENADE(31), NIGHT LIFE(33), WORK COMMUNITY

(41). This pattern shows how the hotels which cater to these visitors can most effectively help to sustain the life of these centers.

4* 4* 4*

A man who stays the night in a strange place is still a member of the human community, and still needs company. There is no reason why he should creep into a hole, and watch TV alone, the way he does in a roadside motel.

At all times, except our own, the inn was a wonderful place, where strangers met for a night, to eat, and drink, play cards, tell stories, and experience extraordinary adventures. But in a modern motel every ounce of this adventure has been lost. The motel owner assumes that strangers are afraid of one another, so he caters to their fear by making each room utterly self-contained and self-sufficient.

But behind the fear, there is a deep need: the need for company—for stories, and adventures, and encounters. It is the business of an inn to create an atmosphere where people can experience and satisfy this need. The most extreme version is the Indian pilgrim’s inn, or the Persian caravanserai. There people eat, and meet, and sleep, and talk, and smoke, and drink in one great space, protected from danger by their mutual company, and given entertainment by one another’s escapades and stories.

The inspiration for this pattern came from Gita Shah’s description of the Indian pilgrim’s inn, in The Timeless Way of Building:

In India, there are many of these inns. There is a courtyard where the people meet, and a place to one side of the courtyard where they eat, and also on this side there is the person who looks after the Inn, and on the other three sides of the courtyard there are the rooms—in front of the rooms is an arcade, maybe one step up from

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the courtyard, and about ten feet deep, with another step leading into the rooms. During the evening everyone meets in the courtyard, and they talk and eat together—it is very special—and then at night they all sleep in the arcade, so they are all sleeping together, round the courtyard.