Seaholm Intake Facility Open House

I was too familiar with seeing this structure on the outside.

The Seaholm Intake Facility held an open house this previous Friday.  It was interesting to observe the diversity (and number) of people who attended the event.  The space was filled with an eclectic mix of planners, architects, engineers, and locals, all present for a common reason:  to reimagine the abandoned facility.

Plywood boards served as railings around deep, cavernous spaces below.  Anxious visitors peered inside to gain a sense of the vertical space.  Horizontal space, on the other hand, was seemingly just as present.  The windows peered out to the endless bounds of Lady Bird Lake.  It was an ideal location for any new project.

It was interesting to observe some of the actions that took place among several clustered groups.  I engaged in some dialogue with a local resident and civil engineer; both were ecstatic about some of the new plans and often referred to the "beautiful visions" that were on display

Two foamcore boards were situated along a wall with the basic site plan of the park pasted on one side.  The resident I spoke to asked me to help her situate her location on the plan, explaining to me that it was "difficult to understand this architecture-stuff."  She read some of the suggestions on the board and later wandered away to view the drawings that were a bit more understandable to her:  photo-realistic renderings.

It seems that planners, architects, and engineers seems to know what is "best" for the City.  Afterall, hey are the entities that possess "adequate" knowledge on how to approach an opportunity like the one brought about by the Seaholm Intake Facility.

But what is the role of the resident?  Is there really community engagement in suggestions written on a board when they can be just as quickly dismissed by someone with greater authority?  Can questions be answered through drawings that cannot be understood?  And lastly, can a vision really be fulfilled in a single open house event?

Coffee, please.

Knock, knock!
Who's there?
Medici.
Medici who?

That is precisely the question.  What is going on over at Medici?

It's been about a week since the coffee shop's temporary closure on the Drag.  In very large print, the window paint reads that the shop is "remodeling" -- and thank goodness they are, because the floor was caving in and standing in there ha become immensely terrifying.

Yet, everytime I pass by the location, little progress seems to be made.  The doors are locked.  The lights are off.  The interiors are empty.

I know it's only been a week, but it seems to be affecting the coffee-drinking population at the university quite dramatically.  Medici's competitor has always been the Starbucks in the Union, and although Medici costs a little bit more, many people are willing in to chip in the extra change to support "quality coffee" at the local business (whatever "quality" means).

Lately, however, it doesn't really seem to matter.   All of a sudden, coffee is coffee.

Over a short period of a week, the lines at Starbucks have grown more than twice the usual length.  Coffee sales even seem to be boosting at Wendy's for the customers who don't have the patience to wait for Starbucks. 

So how could this possibly relate to planning?

It seems to me that people enjoy convenience.  The convenience of coffee from a national chain is superior to the coffee of a local shop when the local shop is out of service.  The nearest operating Medici is situated Downtown, and the likelihood of someone going out of their way to travel the distance for a "quality cup of coffee" doesn't seem to be a practical option.  Perhaps there will be the occasional customer who will boycott these chain alternatives, but the population is small. And who knows when Medici will open again?  Shall we give it another week?  A month?  A year?  When will defeat be declared?

In the world of planning, people like to see promised actions addressed -- and they like to see it happen quickly.  The problem is that good things take time, and time, unfortunately, is something that the majority of people are unwilling to spare.  Take the proposal for a new community garden as an example:  It takes time to simply have the project approved, let alone the time the project requires for it to be implemented.  The vegetation within a community garden is often rendered beautifully when it is initially presented, but it may be a matter of years before the first seed flourishes.  For an extended period of time, the community garden may be brown and bare, making it difficult for the public to understand any benefits coming from it at all.  People are willing to reject former ideas if immediate progress is not evident.

Maybe we just wanted a cup of "quality coffee" -- but how much does "quality" really matter?  How do you convince someone that "quality" is worth waiting for?