Valuing urban commons enough to protect them from the market and political swings feels ... right on the money, as it were.
Definitely we can apply your sentiment to so much in Japanese cities. In general, to all the small old shops that serve so many critical social functions to their neighborhoods which have always (and should) go un-monetized. Different levels of value.
Speaking of Macfarlane, we fell in love with his writing during my school days in Edinburgh, a city which definitely also has some wild festivals. Hogmanay was a favorite. No spectators allowed. Everyone parades through the streets together with huge flaming torches until reaching the top of Calton Hill. It felt at once primal, peaceful, and surreal.
It occurred to me after writing this that people probably have a harder time thinking of the city this way than the river, because the nexus or medium of its life force isn’t as intuitive. In the case of the river its water, but for a city I do think it’s something that we call the commons, in a broad sense encompassing uncommodified spaces and unalienated experiences such as festivals as well. This life force can be polluted, channelized, irrigated in the same way as a river through the forces of capitalism or the state, but at the end of the day, that’s where the life comes from. If you don’t let that flow and exist, the city dies.
Yeah, all the most powerful festival experiences I have had have been ones that are not for outside spectators. The purpose becomes clear, as a ritual to renew the commons and communal bonds
As I wrote to Patrick above, I think it comes down to uncommodified spaces and experiences, but another way I think about it is things in the city that spark wonder and spontaneity, confusion and encounter with others who are fundamentally different. I love baths because I interact with people of all ages, all economic backgrounds and ways of life. And it’s rooted in a local place, not part of some larger, unknowable supply chain or other modern system
Valuing urban commons enough to protect them from the market and political swings feels ... right on the money, as it were.
Definitely we can apply your sentiment to so much in Japanese cities. In general, to all the small old shops that serve so many critical social functions to their neighborhoods which have always (and should) go un-monetized. Different levels of value.
Speaking of Macfarlane, we fell in love with his writing during my school days in Edinburgh, a city which definitely also has some wild festivals. Hogmanay was a favorite. No spectators allowed. Everyone parades through the streets together with huge flaming torches until reaching the top of Calton Hill. It felt at once primal, peaceful, and surreal.
Anyway, thanks for this one.
It occurred to me after writing this that people probably have a harder time thinking of the city this way than the river, because the nexus or medium of its life force isn’t as intuitive. In the case of the river its water, but for a city I do think it’s something that we call the commons, in a broad sense encompassing uncommodified spaces and unalienated experiences such as festivals as well. This life force can be polluted, channelized, irrigated in the same way as a river through the forces of capitalism or the state, but at the end of the day, that’s where the life comes from. If you don’t let that flow and exist, the city dies.
Yeah, all the most powerful festival experiences I have had have been ones that are not for outside spectators. The purpose becomes clear, as a ritual to renew the commons and communal bonds
I loved reading this! Is a river alive is also on the top of my to read list, this has inspired me to pick it up on the weekend, thank you!
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/45688215
Your Tokyo examples carry weight.
How far does the claim travel to places without festival traditions or intact bathhouse networks? What other signals of aliveness might emerge there?
As I wrote to Patrick above, I think it comes down to uncommodified spaces and experiences, but another way I think about it is things in the city that spark wonder and spontaneity, confusion and encounter with others who are fundamentally different. I love baths because I interact with people of all ages, all economic backgrounds and ways of life. And it’s rooted in a local place, not part of some larger, unknowable supply chain or other modern system