Category: Urban

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IFME 2026 Helsinki Congress Future Livable Cities

The IFME 2026 Congress in Helsinki was my first real experience of a big international municipal engineering conference, and I did not expect it to feel so intense and also strangely emotional at the same time. The conference itself is very technical on paper, with infrastructure, planning, climate adaptation, engineering systems, but when you are actually inside it, it feels more like people are quietly worried about the same thing: how cities will survive the future. Especially the first keynote by David Sim (author of Soft City) was very engaging, as he argues that especially the small and soft encounters and interventions of everyday bring us closer together if we care for each other and the places around it. This experiences are an indicator of a bigger idea, that resilience, and it is repeated so many times that at some point it stops sounding like a keyword and starts feeling like a real condition cities are living under.

Diving into the session, my first impression was honestly a bit confusing. So many talks, so many concepts, and everyone speaking very precisely about systems, models, risk, adaptation. But after a while I started to notice a pattern. The panel “Different Aspects of Resilience – Scandinavian Best Practices for Adaptive and Multifunctional Urban Infrastructure” with so many great panelists was especially engaging as they discussed urgent issues of water, climate, and change. Rising sea levels came up again and again, not in a dramatic way, but in a very calm and critical way, which somehow made it more serious. It felt like everyone already accepts that things are changing, and now the question is only how to respond.

In my own presentation “Reconfiguring Urban Interstices: Adaptive Strategies for Resilient and Inclusive Cities“, I focused on urban resilience and the idea that cities are not only shaped by large infrastructure systems, but also by smaller spatial conditions that often go unnoticed. I tried to highlight how resilience is not only about big technical solutions like flood barriers or drainage networks, but also about how everyday urban space is structured and experienced. Especially in relation to climate change and rising sea levels, I was interested in how cities can adapt not only through large interventions, but also through more distributed and small-scale spatial changes. Trying to connect this idea to the way we usually overlook “smaller” or less defined spaces in cities, the question came up what are the interstices or in-between areas: edges along roads or water, leftover spaces between buildings, or places as alleyway that are not fully designed for one specific purpose. These spaces often do not have a clear identity, and because of their liminal character, they are not always considered important in planning discussions. But I would argue that they actually have potential value in terms of flexibility and adaptation. Thus the main takep-away could be that small spaces can help cities respond to water, heat, and environmental stress and more attention should be given to the margins of the city.

In the same session and also in other parts of the conference, there was a clear Nordic way of thinking that kept appearing. Cities like Helsinki and other Scandinavian examples were often described through their relationship with water and landscape. Instead of trying to fully separate the city from nature, there was more emphasis on integration. Parks that also function as flood areas, streets that manage stormwater, public spaces that change function depending on weather conditions. It was not presented as something futuristic or experimental, but more as something already slowly happening.

This approach felt very different from more traditional engineering logic where the goal is often to control or eliminate risk completely. Here the idea was more flexible, almost like accepting that uncertainty is part of urban life. I remember thinking that it is less about building perfect protection and more about designing systems that can fail, adjust, and still keep functioning. There was even a moment when I felt like calling it a kind of “soft resilience”, where cities are not trying to win against nature but to coexist with it in a continuous negotiation.

Being in Helsinki also made these ideas feel more real. It is easy to talk about sea level rise in presentations, but when you are physically in a coastal city, walking near the water after sessions, you start to imagine what these changes actually mean. The city feels stable, calm, very well organized, but at the same time you are aware that long-term environmental pressure is part of its future planning reality. I had the impression that Helsinki is not trying to solve everything at once, but instead is slowly adjusting its urban form and infrastructure step by step. When I think about Tokyo in comparison, this becomes even more interesting. Tokyo is extremely strong in terms of infrastructure, engineering, and efficiency. Everything is carefully managed and designed to function under pressure. But maybe because of that strength, there is less visible flexibility in everyday urban space. After this conference, I started imagining what it would mean to add more small-scale adaptive spaces into a city like Tokyo. Not replacing existing systems, but adding another layer where water, greenery, and public space can overlap more naturally. And its the small step we should take make this happen.

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Walking Neighbourhoods: Moto Sumiyoshi, Community and Placemaking

Guiding a colleague from New York City through the neighborhoods of Moto-Sumiyoshi offers a compelling lens into how everyday urban spaces in Japan quietly perform complex forms of placemaking, community building, and disaster preparedness, especially outside of central Tokyo.

Our walk begins along the vibrant shotengai (shopping street) of Moto-Sumiyoshi, particularly the well-known Bremen Street. Unlike many commercial corridors shaped primarily by consumption, this shopping street operates as social infrastructure. Small shops, local vendors, daily greetings and short chats, all this creates a dense network of community relationships. These ties are not incidental. They are the backbone of community resilience. People know each other, they watch, they notice. This kind of social cohesion is exactly what research describes as crucial in times of disaster.

After we leave the shotengai, we eventually arrive at Tachibana Park. At first, it looks like just a normal neighborhood park. People sitting, children playing, most just passing through. But at the same time, this is also disaster infrastructure: evacuation space, open ground, safety zone. Additionally, inside the park we can Tachibana Hut (Tecture Mag,, 2025). A very small intervention, almost easy to overlook, but actually quite interesting. It used to be a simple park building, now transformed into a shared place, co-working, small events, sometimes markets, sometimes just people sitting and working quietly. It is not loud, not spectacular. More like slowly activating (Park Studio, 2026).

What I find especially interesting is how this connects to the surrounding area of the Shibokuchi neighbourhood. This neighborhood is very calm. Low-rise housing, not much happening on the surface. If you come from outside, you might think: nothing here. But actually, this “nothing” is quite important. It allows something else. Tachibana Hut does not try to change the area into something busy. Instead, it introduces small moments, a market on the weekend, people working during the day time, workshops on different days of the weke, creating a special rhythm of urbanity.

For me, this is a different idea of placemaking. Not creating big attractions, but inserting small possibilities. The neighborhood stays calm, but becomes slightly more connected, slightly more open. Reflecting on this, we can argue that urban vitality does not always mean density of facilities. Here, resilience and community come from quiet structures, from familiarity, and from spaces that can change function when needed. Thus, we can identify the neighborhoods of Moto-Sumiyoshi, Tachibana Park and Shibokuchi as places of everyday resilience and sustainability, offering lessons that other neighborhoods can learn from.

PARK Studio. (2026). Tachibana Hut [Project description]. Retrieved April 21, 2026, from https://www.instagram.com/p_a_r_k_s_t_u_d_i_o/

TECTURE MAG. (2025). Tachibana Hut / PARK Studio [Project article]. https://mag.tecture.jp/project/20250324-tachibana-hut/

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Scripted Nature: Staging Urban Life at Takanawa Gateway City

I arrive through Takanawa Gateway Station, and the station is already performing before I even know what I think about it. The station and roof, designed by Kengo Kuma, spread overhead in pale timber ribs, ending in small tower-like volumes with cafés overlooking the platforms almost like observation points. It feels a bit like an abstract forest translated into structural rhythm and held together with steel precision. The space is open, luminous, carefully resolved. Yet what marks the experience most strongly is not the timber canopy but the sound. The music is loud. It does not accompany movement; it pushes it forward. The station does not function as neutral infrastructure. Wooden service robots stand near the gates, polished and rounded, reassuring in their material yet entirely digital in operation. The gesture is clear: automation softened through organic surface. Technology becomes aesthetic.

Crossing from the station into the Takanawa Gateway City Newoman complex, initiated by East Japan Railway Company and part of a larger mixed-use redevelopment that also includes installations by artists such as Emmanuelle Moureaux, does not feel like moving from transport into a neighborhood. It feels more like entering the next scene of a controlled composition. The district appears almost all at once, as if unrolled from a master plan and installed at scale. At the same time it is clearly not finished. Shop names printed on A4 sheets sit under transparent plastic covers. Temporary and rather cheap looking signs suggest short-term uses, maybe also because it is still unclear which tenants will actually manage to pay the high rents here.

Flowers line the walkways in expensive arrangements. Indoor spaces include long wooden benches, raised boxes filled with walnut shells (for room climate? for play? or simply decorative?), vertical greenery behind glass, and drum-like structures attached to the ceiling. Nature is pruned, framed, miniaturized. What appears organic is actually carefully installed. There is little unpredictability, little decay, and hardly any seasonality beyond controlled blooming cycles.

Movement through the district is guided with precision. On the twenty-eighth floor a space branded “Luftbaum” opens and the city slowly disappears into abstraction below. Sakura trees bloom in contained installations. Water moves through narrow channels. Tatami mats interrupt engineered stone floors and hint at domestic grounding. Through the glass Tokyo becomes grey density. Above, the roof is open, yet temperature and humidity still feel strangely moderated. The loudness of the station below is replaced by managed calm. The complex works almost like a single orchestrated environment that changes intensity as one moves up.

The forest is convincing exactly because it is constructed. Wooden cocoons built by artists offer small enclosures within the spectacle, promising intimacy without really leaving the branded environment. One can sit on tatami, touch timber, listen to controlled water, and still remain fully inside a consumption infrastructure, next to churchlike cafés and high-end restaurants. The forest does not resist the building. It confirms it. Nature here does not interrupt capital flow. It supports it.

This vertical relocation of landscape is sociologically quite telling. Historically parks functioned as urban commons, spaces where different social groups could encounter each other with only limited economic filtering. At Takanawa Gateway City greenery is lifted upward, curated, and embedded inside a mixed-use complex oriented toward high-value tenants and consumers. Access is technically open, but the atmosphere quietly codes belonging. Prices in cafés, aesthetic signals in restaurants, and the polished neutrality of co-working interiors all suggest a very specific user.

The ordinary becomes exclusive. Desk space, coffee, greenery, silence are packaged as privilege. The extraordinary becomes routine. What once signaled exception now appears as baseline quality in global luxury urbanism. The vocabulary is clearly transnational. Similar spatial grammars appear in Singapore, Dubai, or London: mixed-use density, vertical greenery, experiential retail, cultural branding.

The project also does not hide its orientation toward symbolic economy. The announcement of a future “Museum of Narratives” planned to open in March 2026 makes this quite explicit. Storytelling becomes infrastructure. Identity becomes something the district actively produces. Timber ribs, wooden robots, walnut shells, sakura installations, and curated gastronomy align within a script of sustainable futurity and refined modernity. Technology and tradition seem reconciled, at least on the level of surfaces.

Many questions stay unanswered: If this is presented as a model for future urban development in Tokyo, then one has to ask quite simply: who is this built for and why? Who will really use it and how? What alternative models we can promote instead as it should be a city for all?

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Urban Commoning in Japan?

Urban commoning can refer to the ways people collectively create, manage, and sustain shared urban resources through social practices that are embedded in everyday life. It is less about fixed “resources” and more about the ongoing negotiations, trust networks, and norms that allow communities to maintain public life, cultural practices, and spaces of care. In cities, commoning may include taking care of public parks, in between and left-over places, cultural events, or local mutual aid networks. The approach highlights that urban life is socially produced: how people relate, cooperate, and claim space shapes the city as much as formal planning or market forces.

In Japan, it can be argued that urban commoning is deeply rooted in historical and local forms of governance. For example different type of neighborhood associations provide frameworks for collective responsibility, while contemporary initiatives, from managing semi-public places as alleyways to organizing local matsuri and disaster drills, show how everyday cooperation persists within dense urban environments. These practices rely on trust, reciprocity, and shared norms, but they are also shaped by generational hierarchies, gendered roles, and pressures from urban redevelopment.

Viewed in an Asian context, Japanese urban commoning might offer insights into socially embedded resilience. In a region frequently affected by earthquakes, typhoons, and other environmental risks, community networks often play a critical role in risk communication, evacuation, and post-disaster recovery. Commoning is thus not only about everyday life but also about preparing for extraordinary events. It shows that resilience emerges from the slow, persistent weaving of social ties, local knowledge, and small-scale practices long before disaster strikes. As such, Japan’s experience encourages reflection on how urban social infrastructures, both formal and informal, mediate vulnerability and opportunity in cities.

To dig deeper, the following questions could be raised:

How do everyday, local forms of commoning in neighborhoods shape social cohesion, and who is included or excluded in these networks?

In what ways do culturally specific practices of trust, reciprocity, and obligation influence urban resilience in disaster-prone areas of Japan?

How can the lessons of Japanese urban commoning inform broader theories of social infrastructure and resilience in Asian cities, without flattening the local, historical, and spatial specificities of place?

Urban Commoning seen in Yokohama, 2026

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Urban Lives in Transition: Field Notes from Seoul’s Living Neighborhoods

The fieldwork trip to Seoul last month felt less like a visit and more like a slow immersion. I arrived with a simple, persistent question: how do neighborhoods survive when culture itself becomes a form of commodity? Over three days, walking through Bukchon, Insadong, Hongdae, Euljiro, and Dongdaemun, tracing everyday negotiations between preservation, creativity, and survival, this text follows the fieldnotes reflecting on the fragments of a city in motion, where heritage and labor remain inseparable from the struggle to live and work in place. These notes are not conclusions; they are observations, sometimes contradictory, sometimes incomplete, yet grounded in experience.

Day 1: Bukchon – A Neighborhood hypergentrified

Bukchon presents itself as a model of careful preservation. Narrow alleys, tiled roofs, hanok architecture – everything between Gyeongbokgung and Changdeokgung looks like a curated postcard. Yet beneath this curated surface lies tension. Signs read “Please keep your voice down, people live here.” or “No admittance to outsiders“. Furtherdown an alley, I met Mr. Kim, sweeping leaves at his doorstep. His family has lived here since the 1970s. “This is no longer a place to live, but a place to be viewed,” he said. Rising property taxes, guesthouses, and boutique cafés have reshaped everyday life. Houses are now viewed as galleries.

Research shows that heritage preservation in Seoul often prioritizes visual coherence over sustaining lived social relations (Gibert-Flutre & Imai, 2020). Rooflines and alley widths remain, but everyday practices, social networks, and informal encounters are being replaced by images for consumption. Bukchon becomes a curatorial project: a neighborhood stabilized as a photograph, not as a living place.

Research about this topic reinforces this concern, showing that areas like Bukchon and Ikseon-dong are increasingly functioning as cultural stages, where residents become incidental to the neighborhood’s value as a consumable urban aesthetic (Korea Herald, 2025). Local life is not simply displaced, it is reconfigured into a backdrop for visitor experience, even more visible during events like the Seoul Architecture Biennale taking place between October and November 2025.

Day 2: Between Insadong & Hongdae – Culture as Market, Culture as Survival

The next day (re-) encountering, Insadong, it soon becomes quite clear that the place markets itself as Seoul’s “traditional art street.” Calligraphy shops, tea houses, galleries, yet much is geared toward short-term consumption. In a tiny store, Ms. Hyeon, the shop owner, explained: “People come here to feel a version of Korea that is already packaged. Easier and faster to experience...” Moreover, rising rents have pushed out artisan families; imported mass-produced goods now dominate. Heritage is performed, yet increasingly without the people who once inherited it.

On the other hand, Hongdae thrives on youth culture and independent creativity, yet faces its own commodification. Street musicians play beside global cafés; murals are repainted under branding sponsorship. Two art students selling zines told me: “We create because this is where we found each other, but any space we make eventually becomes profitable for someone else.”

Urban ethnography calls this cycle “cultural extraction” (Uršič & Imai, 2020). Creative labor raises an area’s desirability, displacing the creators themselves. Between Insadong and Hongdae lies the same question: when culture becomes an economy, what happens to the people who live it rather than consume it?

Day 3: Euljiro, Jewelry Alleys, Dongdaemun – Work, Craft, and the Fabric of Dependency

On our last day we encounter Euljiro which remains one of Seoul’s densest industrial districts. Alleys echo with metal grinders, workshops produce signage, machine parts, and repairs. Researchers document these vanishing neighborhoods as redevelopment advances. Labor, community, and informal cooperation are intertwined; the city risks losing the invisible networks that keep it alive (Korea Times, 2025).

In the jewelry alley near Euljiro 4-ga, I met Ms. Choi, who runs a three-person workshop. Her tools are worn but cared for; trays of tiny clasps lie in careful order. She emphasized how each step of production depends on proximity: polishers, engravers, stone-setters, couriers. “We survive because we are close. If we scatter, we disappear.”

Later, Dongdaemun’s night market illuminated another rhythm. Couriers balanced parcels through narrow alleys; wholesalers lifted bolts of fabric under fluorescent light; street vendors assembled their stalls well past midnight. Hae-won, a vendor, said: “People say the city never sleeps. But it’s us who stay awake so the city can look alive.” The life of the city depends not on buildings or lights but on countless unseen acts of labor and care.

First reflections

What makes neighborhoods visible is relational labor, not form. Community exists in ongoing acts of care, negotiation, interdependence. Remove these, and all that remains is an beautified image of an neighbourhood. This is why research like this is necessary: to trace these invisible threads that sustain urban life. Seoul, like Tokyo or Taipei shows that memory, creativity, and survival cannot be separated from the spaces that host them. The broader question remains: how can local worlds persist in the accelerating economies of global urban change?

References

Gibert‑Flutre, M., & Imai, H. (Eds.). (2020). Asian Alleyways: An urban vernacular in times of globalization. Amsterdam University Press

Korea Herald. (2025) Pritzker-winning Riken Yamamoto warns Seoul faces crisis without new housing vision, https://shorturl.at/NMLzr

Korea Times. (2025) Architectural firm’s exhibition reveals Seoul’s vanishing neighborhoods, https://shorturl.at/5GIgC

Uršič, M., & Imai, H. (2020). Creativity in Tokyo: Revitalizing a mature city. Palgrave Macmillan Singapore.

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Port Cities Yokohama and Hamburg

Walking through Hamburg this late summer doing fieldwork, I recalled Yokohama and felt the strange rhythm of two cities shaped by water, trade, and memory. In the HafenCity the sunlight danced on glass towers, tourists clicked their cameras, and cafés smelled of espresso and almond croissants. I lingered in a modern café and spoke with a young owner who had moved from Berlin. She loved the design and the buzz, but when I asked if locals came here, she hesitated and said softly, “Mostly no, they don’t feel welcome anymore”. The city felt alive yet curated, like a stage where everyday life had been gently pushed aside (Novy & Colomb, 2013).

A few streets away, in the Gängeviertel, everything slowed down. A muralist painting a brick wall spoke of “looners” – long-term residents who had endured factory closures and redevelopment waves. Sitting on a worn bench, an elderly woman told me about alleyways filled with music, markets that smelled of fish and tar, and children racing past warehouses. These are the stories gentrification quietly erases. In Hamburg-Harburg, the Walls Can Dance project brought color to old port warehouses, blending heritage and street art (Hamburg Tourism, 2025). Cranes, tracks, and old buildings coexist alongside new offices, preserving the port’s history filtered through creativity.

In Yokohama, I often wander(ed) through Koganechō’s narrow alleys, talking with shopkeepers, street artists, and long-standing residents. One café owner hosted small music events, quietly sustaining neighborhood life amid Minato Mirai’s towers (Imai, 2025). Fishermen’s warehouses had been converted into galleries and boutique shops, yet the smell of tar, the murmur of everyday life, and the improvisation of alley activities lingered. Walking these alleys, I saw almost the same layers as in Hamburg: the shiny modern city overlaid on a fragile, persistent network of memory, labor, and informal life (Imai, 2019).

Next steps in the research involve de Certeau-inspired walks to record narratives of daily life, interviews with shopkeepers, artists, and long-time residents, and photographic documentation of ephemeral urban traces. The research aims at comparative mapping of Hamburg, Yokohama and similar port districts to trace gentrification, creative industry clusters, and cultural resilience. Integrating quantitative data on tourism, real estate, and creative employment will allow cross-city analysis. The aim is to capture what disappears – informal social networks, daily rhythms, and the small practices that sustain urban memory – alongside what emerges, the curated “creative city,” offering insights for port cities worldwide navigating heritage, creativity, and transformation. Stay tuned for the next episode coming soon!

References
Hamburg Tourism. (2025). Cultural route: Maritime architecture and street art in Harburg. https://www.hamburg-travel.com/discover-hamburg/areas/discovering-new-corners/cultural-route-maritime-architecture-and-street-art-in-harburg/

Imai, H. (2019, February 2). Yokohamas Koganechō – vom Obdachlosen- und Rotlichtviertel zur Kunststadt. OAG – Deutsche Gesellschaft für Natur- und Völkerkunde Ostasiens. https://oag.jp/events/heide-imai-yokohamas-koganecho-vom-obdachlosen-und-rotlichtviertel-zur-kunststadt/

Imai, H. (2025). From Shipyards to Skylines: An Overview about the Evolution of Yokohama’s Waterfront. In Waterfront Regeneration in a Time of Climate Change. Routledge. https://doi.org/10.4324/9781003597209-8

Novy, J., & Colomb, C. (2013). Struggling for the right to the (creative) city in Berlin and Hamburg: New urban social movements, new “spaces of hope”? International Journal of Urban and Regional Research, 37(5), 1816–1838. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1468-2427.2012.01115.x

Schubert, D., & Hamburg Business. (2024). Creative industries in Hamburg: Driving urban innovation. https://www.hamburg.com/business/economic-clusters/creative-17012

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Graduation Themes 2025: Cities of Emotion, Interaction, and Resilience

The 2025 Urban Design Seminar has only just commenced, and yet already the questions being raised carry a particular urgency. Our point of departure – Jimbocho, Tokyo’s historic book district – offered more than a geographic starting place. It provided a spatial metaphor: a neighborhood suspended between memory and momentum, grappling with how to remain anchored in its literary and cultural past while adapting to the shifting demands of urban redevelopment.

Over the course of the seminar, we will traverse a series of distinct urban contexts. We will engage directly with local stakeholders, analyze comparative policy case studies, and develop experimental, small-scale interventions informed by both local insights and global frameworks. At the core of this journey are the graduation themes for 2025 – a constellation of intellectual and practical concerns that reflect the evolving relationship between the urban environment and the human condition.

Among these themes is an exploration of emotional wellbeing in the city – a subject that transcends the traditional bounds of urban psychology. This line of inquiry asks how spatial arrangements, material choices, and everyday encounters in the city contribute to, or detract from, a sense of emotional equilibrium. The affective quality of urban life – often overlooked in planning discourse demands greater attention, particularly in increasingly dense, overstimulated urban environments.

Another theme examines the subtle power of micro-infrastructures—seemingly ordinary elements such as benches, which, when thoughtfully integrated into the public realm, can serve as catalysts for social interaction, reflection, and accessibility. These elements operate at the intersection of functionality and symbolism. Their presence or absence speaks volumes about a neighborhood’s orientation toward hospitality, rest, and relational space. The contrast between Jimbocho’s introspective atmosphere and the socially vibrant street culture of Jiyugaoka provides a compelling case comparison. In Jiyugaoka, public seating is not merely utilitarian – it is integral to the neighborhood’s social fabric, contributing to a culture of lingering, informal gathering, and embedded identity.

jiyugaoka

A third theme foregrounds the multifunctionality of urban parks, especially in the context of climate adaptation and disaster preparedness. In Japan, parks are tasked not only with providing spaces for leisure and ecological value but also serving as emergency assembly points and temporary shelters in times of crisis. This dual function introduces complex design challenges. Beyond logistical considerations, there is a need to address more inclusive design, ensuring these spaces are perceived as safe and accessible for all users – before, during, and after disaster events. Case studies of urban parks that have been tested under such conditions will be central to our investigation, offering critical insights into how resilience is socially and spatially distributed.

These thematic trajectories – emotional wellbeing, social infrastructure, and urban resilience – do not exist in isolation. They intersect, overlap, and at times, complicate one another. As the seminar progresses, our task is not only to understand these dynamics analytically but to engage them creatively, through contextual research, collaborative design, and iterative testing.

We return to the city again and again – not merely as designers or observers, but as interlocutors. The city speaks in fragments: in gestures, silences, materials, and voids. In 2025, our work is to listen more deeply, to read more critically, and to design more sensitively – toward an urban future that is as emotionally intelligent as it is structurally sound.

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Fieldwork Report: Insights from Taipei’s Alleyway Revitalization

Taipei’s urban regeneration efforts highlight the complex balance between heritage preservation, economic development, and social sustainability. This report examines three key revitalization projects: Datong Dihua Street, Ximending Walking District, and Wanhua Huaxi Night Market, analyzing their strategies, challenges, and broader implications.

Datong Dihua Street: Heritage-Led Urban Renewal

As one of Taipei’s oldest commercial streets, Dihua Street exemplifies heritage-led revitalization. Once a center for traditional Chinese medicine, tea and textile trade, it has been transformed through façade restorations, pedestrian-friendly streetscapes, and cultural tourism initiatives. The integration of seasonal markets, pop-up exhibitions, and art spaces has successfully attracted younger demographics and international visitors. However, rising property values and increasing commercialization threaten long-standing businesses.

Ximending Walking District: Youth-Oriented Urban Transformation

Ximending, historically a Japanese colonial entertainment hub and also known as ‘Harajuku of Taipei’, has been reshaped into Taipei’s premier pedestrian shopping and cultural district. Car-free zones, urban art installations, and designated performance areas have fostered a vibrant space for creative industries and independent retail. The district’s transformation has significantly boosted economic activity, attracting tourists and local youth alike. Yet, concerns over over-commercialization and rising rents have emerged, threatening grassroots cultural expressions.

Wanhua Huaxi Night Market: Tourism and Cultural Preservation

Huaxi Night Market, in Wanhua District illustrate the challenges of integrating tourism-driven redevelopment with cultural heritage preservation. Known for traditional shops and street food stalls, these alleyways have undergone sanitation improvements, infrastructure upgrades, and branding as heritage tourism sites. While these efforts have increased foot traffic, they risk eroding local identity and displacing older vendors. Strategies such as heritage business incentives, community-led planning, and sustainable waste management systems have been introduced to mitigate these effects.

Conclusion

Taipei’s alleyway revitalization efforts demonstrate the potential for heritage-conscious, community-driven urban renewal. While the different neighbourhoods have adopted different strategies, common challenges include gentrification, commercial homogenization, and socio-economic displacement. Sustainable revitalization requires a holistic approach that prioritizes local engagement, regulatory protections, and adaptive urban design to ensure long-term viability and cultural continuity.

Heide Imai
This research was funded by a Senshu University grant and is part of the project 東京の路地ルネッサンス：シドニーと台北からインスピレーションを得る”

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Fieldwork Report: Insights from Sydney’s Alleyway Revitalization


During a recent fieldwork trip to Sydney, funded by Senshu University, we examined the revitalization of urban alleyways in Darlinghurst’s Crown Lane, Surrey Hills, and McElhone Place. These neighborhoods showcase how alleyways have been transformed into vibrant social, cultural, and economic hubs.

Crown Lane (Darlinghurst)
Originally serving as a functional route for industrial and commercial activities, Crown Lane in Darlinghurst has become a bustling mixed-use space. The new Sydney Street program on November 2 2024 was a standout feature, blending cultural expression with commercial vitality (more here https://whatson.cityofsydney.nsw.gov.au/events/sydney-streets-on-crown-street). Initiatives like this have significantly boosted foot traffic and economic activity while preserving the historical essence of the area.

Surrey Hills
Surrey Hills has a rich history, transitioning from a residential area supporting the garment industry to a vibrant cultural hub. The alleyways now serve as venues for artistic expression and community gatherings. Crown Street, in particular, hosts the annual Surry Hills Festival, which turns the neighborhood’s alleyways into dynamic stages for art and music (more here https://shnc.org/surry-hills-festival) This cultural vibrancy has enhanced community engagement and established Surrey Hills as a key cultural destination in Sydney.

McElhone Place
Known as “Cat Alley” due to its feline residents, McElhone Place in Woolloomooloo has been transformed into a serene, green urban retreat. Community-led initiatives have introduced extensive greenery and art, creating a peaceful and aesthetically pleasing space. The lane has become a model for community-driven urban renewal, highlighting the potential of small spaces to foster environmental sustainability and social cohesion (more here https://thedesignfiles.net/2015/05/cat-alley)

What Tokyo Can Learn

Tokyo can gain valuable insights from the revitalization efforts in Crown Lane, Surrey Hills, and McElhone Place: Engaging residents in the planning and transformation of alleyways ensures that the spaces meet local needs and foster a sense of ownership. This can be achieved through workshops, art projects, and participatory urban planning. Tokyo’s alleyways, rich in history and culture, could be revitalized by preserving their historical character while integrating modern amenities such as sustainable infrastructure, improved lighting, and seating areas. Implementing green features like community gardens, rainwater harvesting systems, and eco-friendly materials can enhance the ecological resilience of Tokyo’s alleyways, making them greener and more livable. Furthermore it can be argued that Tokyo can transform its alleyways into vibrant cultural spaces by hosting festivals, art exhibitions, and community events, similar to the Surry Hills Festival. This could foster a sense of community and attract both residents and tourists. However, ensuring that revitalization efforts benefit all residents, including long-standing businesses, is the most crucial. The final report will suggest policies to maintain affordable rents and support local entrepreneurs, preserving the unique character of its neighborhoods.

Open Words and Next Steps in Comparative Analysis
The revitalization of Sydney’s alleyways in Darlinghurst, Surrey Hills, and McElhone Place demonstrates the potential of these spaces to enhance urban resilience, community cohesion, and cultural vibrancy. Tokyo can adopt similar strategies to transform its own alleyways into thriving urban spaces that reflect the city’s rich cultural heritage and modern urban needs. This fieldwork provided a valuable foundation for future fieldwork planned in Taipei, Seoul and other cities with a focus on community-driven, sustainable, and inclusive urban revitalization initiatives, Tokyo could learn from.

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Research in and Outside the Classroom: Understanding How a Neighborhood is Made

When we think of the dynamic development of urban areas, the neighborhood of Jimbocho in Tokyo offers an excellent case study. Known for its unique mix of bookstores, publishing houses, and cozy cafes, Jimbocho showcases the intersection of cultural preservation and modern development. Understanding how a neighborhood like Jimbocho is shaped requires both academic research and hands-on fieldwork.

In the classroom, we explore theories of urban development, discussing concepts like placemaking, the impact of social networks, and the role of community in shaping neighborhoods. Students dive into the intricacies of urban planning theory, exploring how historical, social, and economic forces contribute to the identity and transformation of neighborhoods. These theoretical frameworks help guide the research process, providing a strong foundation for analyzing how urban spaces evolve.

However, true understanding often comes from stepping outside the classroom and immersing oneself in the environment. Fieldwork in Jimbocho reveals more than just the physical layout of streets and buildings. It involves observing the way businesses operate, the cultural practices of locals, and the interactions between new developments and long-standing traditions. For example, as office buildings rise in Jimbocho, some worry about the loss of the area’s identity as a haven for book lovers and food enthusiasts, particularly its famous curry and ramen shops.

During fieldwork, students learn to observe not only what is present but also what might be disappearing. Jimbocho, with its blend of old and new, demonstrates how urban areas can maintain a delicate balance between modern demands and historical roots. While some see new developments as progress, others mourn the potential loss of what made Jimbocho special in the first place – its rich history of books, local eateries, and cultural vibrancy.

A key takeaway from studying Jimbocho is that urban neighborhoods are never static. They evolve based on the needs of residents, businesses, and the broader city. Whether you’re researching in a classroom or conducting fieldwork, understanding a neighborhood like Jimbocho requires looking at both its past and present, recognizing the forces at play, and thinking critically about what the future might hold for such unique urban spaces.

Graduation projects, like those developed by students researching Jimbocho, often illustrate this blend of learning theory inside the classroom and practice outside in the field. Through their work, students are tasked with applying urban development theory to real-world challenges, such as the growing issue of tabearuki (食べ歩き or street eating) and overtourism in some neighborhoods. They also explore how traditional sweets like wagashi are adapted in places like Jimbocho, reflecting the tension between commodity and cultural preservation. Similarly, projects focusing on the rise of vegetarianism or the ideal café concept in a neighborhood steeped in nostalgia and modernity require both academic rigor and practical observation.

By integrating classroom knowledge with real-world observations, students can better grasp how neighborhoods are not just made but constantly remade, influenced by social, cultural, and economic factors. Jimbocho serves as a perfect example of this dynamic, where history and modernity coexist, sometimes uneasily, but always in fascinating ways. Through their research, students uncover the hidden narratives that define neighborhoods and understand the balance required to preserve their unique character while allowing for growth and innovation.

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New Publication JUP The Liminality of Subcultural Spaces

Together with Lisa Woite we worked the last two years on an exciting research project dealign with the liminality of subcultural spaces in Tokyo and the changing urban situation of the city they are situated in. This is one of the first outcomes of this research project about liminal spaces in Japan and this time we are very happy to be a part of the special issue “Urban Borderlands: Difference, Inequality, and Spatio-Temporal In-Betweenness in Cities”, edited byDeljana Iossifova (University of Manchester) and David Kostenwein (ETH Zurich). Many thanks for all the critic, advice and support coming from peer-reviewers, colleagues and friends.

The paper is open access and available for download here:

The Liminality of Subcultural Spaces: Tokyo’s Gaming Arcades as Boundary Between Social Isolation and Integration

  • Heide ImaiFaculty of Intercultural Communication, Senshu University, Japan
  • Lisa WoiteDepartment of Imaging Arts and Sciences, Musashino Art University, Japan

https://www.cogitatiopress.com/urbanplanning/article/view/6969

The full issue is available here:

https://www.cogitatiopress.com/urbanplanning/issue/view/312

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Fieldtrip New York City

A recent fieldwork trip brought us to New York City, where we had the chance to walk and discover different neighbourhoods, present our recent research about global cities and creative clusters to a small audience and make new connections for upcoming projects.

What a fascinating city, which was hit hard by the pandemic, yet always seems to be able to rise like phenix out of the ash. So many facets, faces and feelings, so many communities, creativity and connections were made.

Some interviewees stated during our fieldwork that the people need a thick skin to survive in the city, especially people which belong to the creative sector. Is that the case also in other cities like Tokyo, London or Paris, and what does that mean for their daily life, practice and creative work? Many questions which we hope to answers with more in-depth data.

More can be found on the research and project website

Research Project Tokyo Diversity
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Modelling 神田神保町 – Semester Progress 2022

After a general introduction and weekly theoretical lectures covering topics such as urban renewal and gentrification, students learned a toolset of fieldwork techniques such as city walks, visual mapping, observation, and interviews. To better get to know the community, the students took ten walks around Jimbocho. First interviews were conducted in October (which was also published in the Nikkei Shimbun in December 2022), and a list of people we want to interview in the future was created.

In the second stage, the students began to discuss the usage of local parks, highways and skyscraper rooftops, etc., and began to create their own research questions. . To consolidate these topics, Kanda Jimbocho’s Mock-up Model was built.

More updates can be also be found here: https://www.senshu-u.ac.jp/education/howto/seminar/search/global/le02.html

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Nikkei Shinbun Interview 7/12/2022

Recently our seminar was interviewed by Nikkei Shinbun. We talked about the fieldwork we currently conduct in Kanda Jinbocho and we were more than delighted to introduce the journalists to the connections we made overthe last months in the local community and how this will help to improve the character of this neighbourhood.

The article can be found here: /https://www.nikkei.com/article/DGXZQOUB256M20V21C22A1000000/

English Version:

Senshu University, School of International Communication, Learning Culture through Experiences in Exchange
2022/12/07 Nihon Keizai Shimbun Morning Edition Page 31

　Senshu University’s School of International Communication is a new faculty created in the 2020 academic year. It provides opportunities for fieldwork, study abroad, and practical educational experiences. It aims to develop human resources who are well versed in Japanese culture and cross-cultural understanding and who can respond to globalization.
　In late November, five students from the Faculty of Intercultural Communication visited Yamatoya Shokumoten, a long-established geta store in Kanda Jimbocho, Tokyo. The purpose of their visit was to report their findings through SNS (social networking site).
　The store rents a part of the store to other kimono businesses. On the day of the visit, haori (Japanese traditional haori coat) and hand towels using a technique called chusen (tie-dyeing) were on display. Ryuhei Funabiki, the fifth-generation owner of the store, explained that he wanted to convey the charm of kimono, and the students exchanged opinions, saying, “It looks good even when worn over Western clothes.
　Associate Professor Imai Heide, who is teaching the seminar students, is from Germany and has practical experience in architecture and urban design. “Without the backing of a culture that is easy to empathize with, a community cannot be created. I hope to make students aware of this through a familiar city,” she says about the aim of this fieldwork.
　

The Faculty of International Communication has approximately 700 students in the Department of Intercultural Communication and the Department of Japanese Language. In the first year, all students learn the basics of Japanese culture and cross-cultural understanding. After that, each department cultivates expertise through study abroad, seminars, and practical experience.
　Communication across borders requires not only the ability to understand and use language, but also an understanding of cultural diversity and universality. In order to enable students to study a wide variety of topics, the department has assembled a faculty specializing in languages and interdisciplinary themes. Dean Tetsuro Negishi explains the department’s aim: “We provide students with a three-dimensional approach to the world and society.
　The Department of Intercultural Communication places emphasis on fieldwork and other practical activities. For the first time at Senshu University, students are required to study abroad. Department Chair Kenro Suzuki says, “We hope that students will gain a broad understanding of communication through local experiences.
　The Japanese Language Department, on the other hand, teaches Japanese as a global lingua franca. The students will deepen their knowledge in a practical manner by utilizing literature and materials. The leftward-facing face on the wall visually indicates the rule of reading characters from the left,” he said. Tomoe Konno, a second-year student in Professor Tatsuya Saito’s seminar on Japanese phonology and notation, shows and explains a manuscript of the “Shinkokin Wakashu.
　In Professor Saito’s seminar, students choose a subject of their choice, compile their findings into panels, and display them in the university library. Professor Saito says, “We devise ways for students to learn practical skills such as presentation, planning, and negotiation through the transmission of Japanese language. Journalists and actors are invited as lecturers to deepen students’ practical understanding of the Japanese language.
　For students who wish to become Japanese language teachers, a program to teach Japanese at schools in Japan and abroad is also available. More and more foreigners are becoming interested in Japan through animation and food culture. We will nurture human resources who can transmit the Japanese language, backed up by academic studies, to foreign countries.
　For the department, which focuses on real-life exchanges, the outbreak of the new coronavirus was a blow to the department. Some students had to postpone their planned study abroad programs. On the other hand, there were some positive outcomes, such as the start of online Japanese language joint research with a Croatian university with which the department had been in contact.
　The 2023 academic year will see the first graduates of the program. Dean Negishi is enthusiastic, saying, “We hope to send out people who can make use of what they have learned through their five senses in society.”

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INTERNATIONAL RESEARCH PROJECT

We, a research team based at Senshu University Japan and University of Canberra, Australia, made a short survey to find out how outdoor activities and the use of different public spaces changed due to covid-19. The survey takes only 3-5min and we would appreciate all the help we can get, especially if you live in Japan. Many thanks in advance.

Survey in English and Japanese available

https://lnkd.in/e6Dra_Rk