The Berlin Block as an Urban ToolRethinking the urban fabric

ByMarisela Soto Salas

A dissertation submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of

Master of Arts(Housing & Urbanism)

September 2014

in the Architectural Association School of Architecture

Introduction ...........................................................................................................................

Historical Development ........................................................................................................ Foundation Period: 1860-1914 .................................................................................... War and Division: 1933-1945 ..................................................................................... The High-Rise: 1950-1970 .......................................................................................... Rediscovery of the Mietshaus: 1970-1980s ................................................................ IBA: 1980s .................................................................................................................. Hans Stimmann: 1990s ................................................................................................

Typology and Morphology .................................................................................................... Evolution of the Mietshaus .......................................................................................... Meyer’s Hof ................................................................................................................. The Typical Mietshaus ................................................................................................. The Post-War Block .....................................................................................................

The Block for the Compact City .......................................................................................... The Courtyard Block, the Tower and the Row House ................................................. Influence of the Berlin Block ...................................................................................... Another Block City ...................................................................................................... A Model or a Tool? ...................................................................................................... The Block for a Liveable and Compact Fabric ............................................................

Conclusion ...............................................................................................................................

References ...............................................................................................................................

Bibliography ...........................................................................................................................

Table of Contents

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Introduction

The resiliency of the nineteenth century European urban fabric is notable. Today its physi-cal presence continues to be a meaningful part of many of the most iconic cities of the re-gion, especially when reflecting upon the multiple modifications that have taken place in architecture and urban planning ideologies. One of the most remarkable cases is the Berlin block, which is commonly associated with the German capital’s remodelling from a citadel town to an industrial powerhouse; but most importantly the block’s resistance to utter de-molition during the post-war period of reconstruction. Although this urban form’s origins may be traced back to the industrial revolution, a time often associated with poor and un-healthy dwelling conditions, it has managed to re-emerge as a popular option for living, es-pecially from the late twentieth century onwards. This revival resulted as a consequence of unsatisfied housing demands and the lack of affordable alternatives to the modern projects.

Berlin’s situation is of particular significance, for the war left the city with many empty spaces, giving it an opportunity to reinvent itself. Crucial at a time were there was a sense of identity loss, consequence of the dark years of political turmoil. As a result, the city wit-nessed a long period of urban experimentations, becoming a laboratory for modernist ideas in planning and architecture. Nevertheless, this time period culminated with a re-discovery and understanding of the block’s value as a flexible form with the capacity to create better living conditions than its modernist predecessors. Ultimately setting aside ideas of decen-tralization and zoning, and presenting the qualities of variation, compactness and mixed uses as the ideal conditions for the effective elaboration of good economic and living patterns.Due to the increasing demands on urban centres as a consequence of continual world population growth, “during the 20th century alone, [it went] from 1.65 billion to 6 billion” (“Current World Population”), it has become important to find out what forms are most suitable for effective urban growth, while retaining or creating cohesive neighbourhoods. Equally significant within the great-er debate has been the need to address stainability issues. The work, however, does not focus on technical questions about ecology and energy savings. Nonetheless, the nineteenth century block’s morphology presents some conditions that can contribute to the formation of better “sustainable” environments, particularly through its morphological traits and their advantages over modernist models, which have rather led to the creation of some inefficient suburban patterns of living.

With this in mind, the work centres on Berlin’s traditional block and its potential qualities as an ur-ban tool for the creation of liveable neighbourhoods, and consequently efficient compact urbani-ties. For this matter, the block will be approached from two scales. On one scale as a whole unit, which will be commonly addressed as the block or traditional block, were its configuration is the result of the multiple tenement houses that “fill” in the unit. The second scale is that of the individ-ual buildings that make up the block, the Mietskasernen or tenement houses, which will often be addressed due to their flexible internal arrangements. The paper thus centres on this urban form’s development and significance throughout Berlin’s history, while highlighting that the nineteenth century fabric presents valuable characteristics for the elaboration of efficient compact cities.

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That being so, the first part focuses on a historical perspective of the German capital’s urban development. Positioning the block as a resilient element that manages to become an attractive mode of living. A situation that ends up revealing the ineffectiveness of modernist alternatives to replace the block, and thereby re-enforcing the traditional form as a prime urban element. The second chapter, therefore, focuses on the evolution and typological values of the Miets-kasernen, as a means to console the block’s value as an efficient and versatile urban form. Here the tenement houses will be explored from their medieval predecessors to their post-war reconfigurations, which ultimately led to substantial improvements to the overall fabric of the block. Pointing out that although original morphologies were valuable, unintentional trans-formation also forms part of the block’s eventual development as a potential urban model. Building upon this, the third chapter becomes a reflection upon the previous two, positioning the nineteenth century form as a valuable element from which to extract lessons in the creation of compact cities. With the principle intention, nonetheless, of highlighting the significance of approaching the block as an urban tool rather than a model for duplication. A crucial notion when considering that cities tend to be composed of multiple historical layers; and are there-fore meant to keep changing and evolving; rather than constantly copying previous concepts. The principle objective of the work is hence to analyse and understand the value of Ber-lin’s nineteenth century block, principally as a means to highlight its significance as a potential tool for the elaboration of cohesive neighbourhoods. A quality that may be extended beyond Berlin and into other European cities, and thus permitting ur-ban centres to continue to grow while developing liveable and efficient urbanities.

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Historical Development

Throughout the history of Berlin, the nineteenth century block may be noted as a recurrent ele-ment, particularly relevant in terms of housing. Due to its possibility for variation and flexibil-ity, it became the housing model for the masses during the industrial boom. Leading to the city’s subsequent growth as “die größte Mietskasernenstadt der Welt” (qtd. in Whyte and Frisby 134), translated to “the largest rental-barracks city in the world”, particularly for their overcrowding and often unhealthy conditions. This issue pressured towards its abolition and the design of housing alternatives in the mid-twentieth century. Although most of its narrative is placed under a negative tone, tracing its history becomes important as part of a better understanding of its development, and subsequent re-discovery in the 80s as a potential model for urbanity.

Foundation Period: 1860-1914

After Germany’s unification in 1871 king Friedrich II “parcelled out building lots” in order to promote economic activity, and required each “recipient to put up a house at his own expense, with its dimensions and façade often prescribed by royal decree” (Ladd 99). By royal order, some houses would be four stories high as to grant the city a formidable appearance. This parcelling system reveals the beginnings of what would later develop into large speculative tenement housing construction. Although financial growth was of great relevance, another cru-cial aspect was the need to provide housing for soldiers. Hence, homeowners were commonly obliged to quarter soldiers. This social responsibility becomes antecedent to Berlin’s massive proletariat population of the mid-nineteenth century until the First War. Berlin’s status as a military city, demonstrates that the masses of that time (pre-1850s) were soldiers. Even though “there existed regular barracks built and maintained by the army itself” (Ladd 100), many of these soldiers were lodged in private housing. Due to the circumstances demanded by the city, it is believed that the term miestkaserne, or “rental barracks”, was coined at this time. Later to be used with greater force during Berlin’s industrial decades. It is undeni-able that there was a strong link between the city’s industrialization and monarchy’s need for armaments to reinforcing its militaristic power. Metalworking was then the principle industry at the beginning of the nineteenth century that began Berlin’s transformation from citadel town to an industrial powerhouse, principally led and supported by the state. Consequently the army barracks began to be occupied by factory workers, putting pressure on the need of housing for the new masses: the proletariat.

After Germany’s unification in 1871, Berlin’s transformation towards an industrial capital took force. These changes may be perceived through population growth, going from “170,000 in 1800, … to half a million by the early 1850s, one million in 1877, and two million at the turn of the century” (Ladd 96). Most of the new inhabitants were coming from the countryside with the hopes of finding better jobs and living conditions. Migration increased particularly after the agricultural depression of the 1880s (Whyte and Frisby 134). The high demands for hous-

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ing and the lack of a central planning authority, for previous city councils had failed to assume ownership of the city’s land in the early mid 1800s (Whyte and Frisby 159), resulted in large speculative housing blocks (see fig. 1).Since the local government had no strong hold of the land, tenement houses were built to suit all purposes and people. Dwelling types varied. Some were large and had more than two rooms (at times occupying one entire floor); but the majority were two to one-room units. All with the purpose of obtaining maximum rental profit. As stated by Karl Scheffler, the Berlin block of the nineteenth century “is the result of an exceptional surge of entrepreneurial effort … by land speculation and the system of subdivision into plots that was devised to support it” (Scheffler 159). Meaning that the greater the number of dwellings a building housed, the greater the prof-its. Since the block was viewed primarily as a tool for commercial purposes, rather than as a space for living, its design was based on “a rich return for the least possible effort” (Jacob 164). This led speculators to take on standardization, principally in relation to windows, doors, inter-nal fittings and plans; for it brought greater economic advantages in lowering unit construction costs. This was particularly evident on the plans, were the one-room apartments dominated, while considering that the poor were the main population demanding housing.

The speculative system that created Berlin’s Mietskasernen, basically offered no other housing alternatives. Due to the lack of other options, the proletariat had to live in these places and pay high rents. The many discrepancies of the rental system, administered according to social sta-tus, show that those in the lowest income tires usually had to pay the highest rents (Whyte and Frisby 135). This forced many working class families, of which the average would be six mem-bers (husband, wife and four children), to live in one-room apartments that consisted of very narrow spaces were all aspects of living would occur (see fig. 2). It was commonplace to see the kitchen and bed cramped together. The high rents would also lead families to sub-rent their own living quarters to night lodgers; non-family members that could not afford to rent an apart-ment of their own. At the time, the term “overcrowding” usually referred to 6 or more people per room and 11 or more in two rooms (Sombart 151). Such conditions were commonplace in Mietskasernen; this issue was believed to corrupt family life, for families were basically never able to lead private lives.

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Fig. 1. Aerial view of Luisenstadt in 1925; in Doug Clel-land, “Berlin: an Architectural History”, Architectural Design Profile (1983, print).

Fig. 2. An apartment in 1908; in Johann F. Geist and Klaus Kürvers, Das Berliner Mietshaus : 1862-1945 (1984, print).

By the end of the nineteenth century the Mietskasernen had become places of blight, with the potential of slowing the city’s progress via the spread of diseases. This led many architects and designers of the time to begin thinking in terms of “light, air, green spaces and proper sanita-tion” (Whyte and Frisby 137); consequently, by the early 1900s housing began to be addressed in terms of population health and “the economic benefits to be derived from a healthy work-force” (Whyte and Frisby 136). Finally the direct link between healthy workers and their living quarters was understood. The first city agency to focus on the issue was the Berliner Spar- und Bauverein (Berlin Savings and Building Society); which commissioned renowned architects of the time to work on the disadvantages of the typical Miethaus. Amongst the many architects, Alfred Messel’s approach was significant. The typical Berliner tenement block was composed of multiple courtyards, known for their lack of ventilation and natural light; but Messel chooses to open up the court-yard and its sides, encouraging the free up of space. This and other ideas such as the introduc-tion of private streets cutting through, roof gardens and cross ventilation came to be used over the following decade.

By the beginning of World War I, the ideas and development for the working-class housing “created the design conditions that were to lead in the 1920s to the city’s emergence as the leading generator of new ideas in housing” (Whyte and Frisby 137). Along with the Modern Movement and CIAM’s (Congrès internationaux d’architecture modern) promotion of modern-ist architectural ideologies, the 1920s and 1930s became prime years for experimentation. This allowed architects like Martin Wagner, Bruno Taut, Walter Gropius and Hans Scharoun to unite their designs; and with help of non-profit building societies, construct several massive housing estates. Two examples are Britz Horseshoe Estate (see fig. 3) and Siemensstadt. Particularly important, for these years faced high demands for quality housing, something many modernists believed could not be obtained through the traditional tenement block. Thus they proposed to abolish the block, and replace it with slabs as the new model for housing. The desire for healthy and affordable living spaces supported the new model, which favoured “generously spaced rows of sleek buildings that would provide their residents better access to light, air and open space” (Ladd 104). Since the old tenement blocks were being left behind, little was changed in the inner city. Modernists focused on decentralization and reduced densities. Taking on ideas from Ebenezer Howard’s Garden City Movement, resulting in many of the new projects to be generated on the periphery, while the city centre remained unchanged.

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Fig. 3. Britz Horseshoe Estate 1931; in Brian Ladd, The Ghosts of Berlin: Confronting German History in the Urban Landscape (1997, print).

War and Division: 1933 – 1945

The rise to power of the National Socialist regime brought very little advancement to the urban scene. These years show a lot of idealized conceptions about Berlin’s image and re-positioning as a world city. There was a big shift from social responsibility and practicality to political and ideological concerns. Ideas about monumentality were now core to any building construction intentions by the regime, but much of it was left on paper. Even so, just like their modernist contemporaries, the Third Reich showed interest in the elimination of old tenements houses, considered slums and the cause of urban deterioration. Despite that, war and the Reich’s low priority on housing placed the Mietskasernen through an idle period. It was until after the war that Berliners discovered an opportunity for the city to grow and redevelop in new ways. The dark period and atrocities brought by the Nazi regime pushed such desires even further. Berlin’s citizens felt they had not only lost their city, but that the war had also razed them and the capital of identity.

Allied bombing of the capital during World War II became the gateway for a new city; the aftermath’s ruins were this new opportunity (see fig. 4). Even so Berlin was not completely destroyed, as it is sometimes assumed. This is crucial, for the city is given two different circum-stances from which to take advantage some decades later. On the one hand, some inner city por-tions of the block ended up fragmented. Were massive compact Miestskasernen once stood, one could now find an urban fabric composed of multiple new pocket spaces. On the other hand, some of the traditional block configurations managed to survive in the less bombed areas (prin-cipally outside the inner city circle). In these areas, later urban renewal programmes are to take place, changing the negative perception of the tenement houses to that of valuable urban spaces.

The years directly after 1945 were not easy; the city lost its status as a capital and much of the urban fabric was fragmented. These issues continued through the duality between East and West

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Fig. 4. Ifflandstrasse after the war; in Brian Ladd, The Ghosts of Berlin: Con-fronting German History in the Urban Landscape (1997, print).

Berlin, a political outcome of the war. Despite political division, both sides continued the mod-ernist legacy and desire to find alternatives to the tenement houses. Although divided, the East under soviet control promoting communist ideals, and the West administered by the allies and capitalist notions; both continued to look into models left behind in the early 1930s, especially for prevailing demands on housing. Pre-war modernist concepts even led to the introduction of reforms promoting bulldozing of some blocks and their partially destroyed Miestkasernen, as a means “to correct the errors of nineteenth-century urban development” (Ladd 177). Slab struc-tures replaced some of these old spaces. Change was now taking place in the inner city fabric. The 50s and 60s continued using the slab, yet by this time a new element was introduced, the tower, however, this element was to last only a few decades.

The high-rise: 1950 – 1970

Zero hour - “Stunde Null” in German – is said to represent the air raids of May 1945, often as-sociated by Berliners as the elimination of all links to Prussian and German history. As stated by Brian Ladd, “tens of thousands of buildings had been destroyed, more were badly damaged, and hundreds of thousands of people had lost their homes” (176); yet notes that not all was lost. In fact there were many buildings still standing, but many reformers wished to abolish the Mietskasernen. For politicians and planners, it was an opportunity to push forward “decentral-ization and functional division” (Ladd 177); modernist ideas that intended to create ‘cells’ with a certain amount of inhabitants, while commercial and industrial uses assigned their own areas within the city. This was part of a “collective plan” elaborated in 1946 by Hans Scharoun and other major architects. Intended in the plan was also the complete elaboration of a road and rail network, however the unrealistic goals and difficulties of dealing with an existing fabric and underground infrastructure did not allowed the project to proceed. Nevertheless, it presented ideals that would be introduced later.

With the division of Berlin, city planning was being restricted. In the late 1950s it was under-standable that both sides were struggling, living conditions were considerably poor. However, strong political contrast sparked a race for subsistence; in which one side would usually not acknowledge the other. Even so, West Berlin continued to promote the production of plans that envisioned a unified city. An action always rejected or usually not recognized by East Berlin. As time progressed, the city only separated more and more. The year of 1961 marks the climax of separation with the construction of the Wall, segregating both sides politically and physically, affecting city planning. During the 1950s, East Berlin demonstrated interest towards a continuation of the architectural tradition initiated in the 20s. This period then saw the construction of long unornamented build-ings, usually five-stories high. For a long time, the form of the low-rise slab was perceived as an adequate element for a socialist urban fabric. Although soviets supported this pre-war modern-ist tradition, designs were already changing drastically. Urban models were assimilating west-ern capitalist ideas. By this time Moscow was constructing skyscrapers as it continued to grow, consequently influencing Berlin. Now the ideal capital city had to be centralized, and display

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hierarchy and monumentality. This projected political wishes for “Germany’s capital (to not be diminished) by rebuilding it with low buildings” (Ladd 182). One of East Berlin’s principle projects that intended to follow the new rules of socialist gran-deur was Stalinallee (today known as Karl-Marx-Allee). This project brought bigger buildings, seven to ten stories, but its primary focus was on national and local styles. Reflecting on the desire to recapture the identity lost after both wars. Additionally, its configuration on an axis and the lack of any kind of spaces between the buildings highlights its intention to deviate from modernist decentralization. This was the first intent at a socialist reconstruction of the city, and the provision of its much-needed housing. Quickly the apartments gained popularity; they of-fered generous spaces and a friendly environment. An aspect that contrasted to the small and negatively regarded Mietskasernen. Since these buildings were expensive to build, the scheme was not repeated again in the GDR (German Democratic Republic). Like its counterpart the West was developing similar ideas, but under different ideals. On this side modernism and urban decentralization was key. These concepts were explored and made a reality with the construction of Hansa Quarter (see fig. 5). Since 1945, the neighbourhood had been in ruins and it was time to revive it. The principle organization to take action of the area was 1957 IBA (Internationale Bauasusstellung Berlin), originally meant as an exhibition “to show the latest thinking in architecture and planning” (Clelland and Davey 23). Resulting in the collaboration of many acclaimed architects like Le Corbusier, Gropius, Scharoun, Aalto and Niemeyer to name a few. Modernist influences of the time led to the development of low-rise buildings, typically slabs, and high-rise towers. The whole project was meant to work as a reac-tion against Stalinallee, clarified in its very distribution. Rather than following axial order, its buildings are not facing each other and are scattered across the entire neighbourhood. Meant as an exemplar of decentralization and zoning of uses; and ultimately representing western ideals of freedom, individuality and democracy. Although it tried to approach the housing deficiency of the city, just like its eastern opposite, construction costs were not cheap. The vision of the continual use of such a format of living was unlikely to be supported in the future.

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Fig. 5. Hansa Quarter 1962; in Brian Ladd, The Ghosts of Berlin: Confronting German History in the Urban Landscape (1997, print).

As it can be seen, both political entities continued to elaborate similar projects. The only distinc-tion was to be found in the ideologies embedded. Hence the 60s and 70s resulted in eminently parallel projects. Two major examples of bold development are: Ernst-Reuter-Platz in the west and Alexanderplatz in the east. Of both, the latter was peculiar for it evidenced East Berlin’s radical change in urban policies. The 1970s, however, saw a great turn towards providing hous-ing, particularly in the east under Erich Honecker. His new policies pushed for the develop-ment of satellite towns in which construction of prefabricated apartment buildings would be the norm. West Berlin also took to this approach, but at a much lower scale and at a greater cost, for they desired to avoid the unrelated and bleak spaces that resulted from the East’s new towns.

Re-discovery of the Mietshaus: 1970-1980s

In the 1970s, the lack of affordable housing and the ever-growing population of Berlin pushed those in the lower income tires, often students, artists, foreign workers and anarchists, to find alternatives on their own. This occurred on both sides but was stronger in the West. Conse-quently there was a great move of people into the long forgotten and deteriorated Mietskaser-nen. Quickly the old tenement houses became the preferred alternative for affordable accom-modation. In contrast to the new apartments that were being constructed in the periphery, and were commonly expensive or targeted towards the typical family unit of the time, these old structures offered a variety of flexible spaces that could be easily re-arranged. Thus the typical inconveniences of these buildings, like a shared bathroom and lack of personal showers, meant little when there were possibilities for owning a generous apartment space in the city centre. To do so, these people took over renovation themselves, revealing the true flexibility of arrange-ment that the original designers of the nineteenth century had envisioned. As this process took force, the “slums” became attractive liveable neighbourhoods.This renovation process had been previously aided, for WWII had created pockets of space that allowed sunlight and air to circulate more freely. The new spaces also offered the possibility for new inner configurations. What used to be a blank firewall could now be a new window front-age. The values of solidity and adaptability of these buildings had been recognized by the new inhabitants. By the 1980s, these places were more popular than the “alternatives” of the 50s and 60s. The slabs and towers lost attractiveness to the re-discovered values of “the Mietskas-ernen, the street, the courtyard and other aspects of traditional Berlin urbanity” (Ladd 189). The self-help efforts initiated by the new residents captivated the attention of the local government, which began to sponsor their efforts. By the late 1980s, a renovation programme had already been installed. Supported by the IBA of 1987, this programme serves to demonstrate the great potential of the Berlin Block.

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IBA: 1980s

The Hansa Quarter of IBA 1957 had developed as a model for the “future city”, and therefore, was constructed in an isolated way and not directly related to Berlin’s history and architectural legacy. It preformed like a bubble showcasing modernist futuristic ideals; it was the exhibition itself. Reflecting on this, the IBA developed new concepts and strategies in the 70s and early 80s as a means to work within the city and its exiting conditions rather than neglect it. This was essential for many peripheral projects were absorbing the inner city’s population, while neglect-ing those that could not afford expensive new living quarters. In comparison to its predecessors, the goal of the new IBA organization was to integrate contemporary architectural projects as part of the city, rather than as islands. Along with the re-discovery of the traditional block, the programme purposefully aimed at finding ways of “repairing” the cities and improving de-pressed urban sectors. Berlin became the experimental field for IBA’s new vision.

IBA’s “repairing” plan was composed of two main strategies: “critical reconstruction” and “careful urban renewal” (Clelland and Davey 23). Due to the different degrees of post-war destruction, both were based on how much of the Berlin block was still standing. On the one hand critical reconstruction aimed to work on the most ruined parts of the inner city. Here the basic idea was re-completing the block. Most of the projects (commonly referred to as Neubau) that were developed were models of modernism but strictly following traditional aspects of the block. On the other hand, the neighbourhoods less afflicted by the war bombing underwent a careful urban renewal strategy (commonly known as Altbau). Inspired by the renovation initia-tive started by their inhabitants, the tenement houses of these sectors were taken as the main models for housing. However, this did not implied that only one sector of the population was favoured. Due to its great scope, the IBA approached the many aspects of Berlin, from affluent neighbourhoods to “slums” and each in terms of their distinct character.

For an organization that was widely known for its radical and visionary ideas, it was unprec-edented for many to witness the IBA’s “conservative” approach to the 80s programme. This however had much to do with the city’s political system that restrained many of the innovative ideas, some of which were not considering the Berlin block as a starting point. Nonetheless this led to a deep exploration and understanding of the traditional nineteenth century block’s value in the urban fabric. As a result of precedent modernist concepts and governmental constraints, projects in the critical reconstruction areas (Neubau) ended up being less mixed than their coun-terparts (Clelland and Davey 28). Strengthening the value of mixed uses that had been present on many blocks during the 1800s over the modernist separation of functions. Even so, many Neubau and Altbau projects proved that it was possible to integrate contemporary architecture onto the city, while regenerating “inner urban life” (Clelland and Davey 28).

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Hans Stimmann: 1990s

The fall of the Wall in November 1989 not only reunified the city, but also brought a “massive boom in building investment” (Stimmann 48). It was the beginning of a process to reunite and regain capital status, but also a time to debate about what the future of the city would be. One of the most prominent figures during the 90s was Hans Stimmann, Berlin’s building director from 1991 to 2006; who strongly supported the “critical reconstruction” concept initiated by Josef Paul Kleihues, IBA director from 1979 to 1987. In his view, the city had been able to “draw lessons from a range of models”(Stimmann 50), understanding them as failures and examples of ideas that are not adequate for city formation. The models he was arguing against were those that developed between the 1920s and early 1970s. Hence he refers to the 80s as the moment in which the great discovery of a proper model was found, the very model that had been neglected since the 1920s: the Berlin block of the nineteenth century and its Mietskasernen.Stimmann thus became promoter of the “critical reconstruction” concept and the model of the “European City”, which focused on traditional block structures “bound together by public areas (like courtyards) and private buildings (or the idea of the private dwellings) within the context of the city while allowing a variety of uses to co-exist” (Stimmann 52). The previous decades of failed experimentation had only made clear that a “return to traditional urbanism” (Stimmann 51) was the path to take. He goes back specifically to the period before the 20s, when architects like Hoffmann, Mebes, Taut and Messel to name a few, had managed to embody Berlin’s archi-tectural identity. He turned this idea into a set of planning guidelines, much of which adhered to nineteenth-century building codes. Resulting in regression to classical orders and masonry buildings. Besides the early modernist architects, Schinkel became his principle starting point.

However his perspective was not always welcomed, many critiques argued that his approach to the city was too conservative. At times even to the point of being accused for trying to ignore the years after the First War, and especially those during the Second World War. His strict ap-proach was evident when he set building to be at 22 to 30 meters tall, the same as six to eight stories, paralleling Miethäuser heights. Amongst his critiques are architects Daniel Libeskind and Richard Rogers, principally stating that Stimmann’s lack of a future modern vision would not allow Berlin to prosper. Also expressed as a “hopelessly romantic attempt to turn back the clock” (Ladd 232). For Libeskind, a city with so many different layers in its formation like Ber-lin was meant to continue evolving in such a manner, by continually taking on new ideas that reflected on its past, present and future. Not to be suspended in time by going back to uniform standards of a specific time period. In his short collaboration for the redesign of Potsdamer Platz, Rogers identifies that Stimmann’s guidelines were embedded too much in the past. Rather than allowing innovative design to expand on its exiting capabilities (similar to what IBA intended), the city’s urban fabric was being stagnated in time. Instead of allowing the traditional block to evolve as a potential urban form, that could ultimately provide Berlin with guidelines for a better urban environment, it was plainly copied. Consequently, not allowing Berlin to continue its natural cycle of transformation, which had a rich historical development until then. Constant changes like those seen in the German capital are crucial characteristics of the most liveable urban centres, for valuable and compact cities tend to possess a mixture of layers.

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Typology and Morphology

Berlin’s traditional block and its Mietshäuser have long been central to discussions about the city’s future. The capital’s history and development cannot be addressed without mentioning the social and economical impacts that the block and its tenement houses brought along. Origi-nally viewed under a negative light and often perceived as “the epitome of the un-city” (Boden-schatz 19) by supporters of the Modernist movement, the nineteenth century structure has now re-emerged as a prime object of urban renewal and a potential model for modern urban living. This revaluation has been taking place in the last 15 to 20 years; from which ideas and new concepts about living have emerged, particularly after IBA’s critical reconstruction and careful urban renewal programmes. A great part of this re-discovery revolves around the inherent flex-ibility that the tenement buildings offer to today’s housing needs. To better understand them it is important to trace back their typological and morphological beginnings.

Evolution of the Mietshaus

Survival of the Mietshaus from utter demolition, particularly during the 60s, is often associated with its peculiar flexibility, for it allows easy reconfiguration of its internal arrangement. How-ever, this was not the only aspect that allowed it to re-emerge as a housing option. Even though they are historically and traditionally known for housing the working class masses of Berlin, the early original structures were built to serve the bourgeoisie. Explaining why many of these structures present expensive and high quality construction standards. Another aspect that led to the intensive support of their conservation by low-income groups was that they were at times sturdier and cheaper than their modern alternatives. These qualities are the direct result of the evolution of the Berliner bourgeois house, which ultimately ended as the housing option for the proletariat due to the high number of newcomers to the city during the industrial revolution.

During the Middle Ages Berlin consisted greatly of gabled houses. These were advanced varia-tions to an earlier type, the German Hallenhaus. As the name implies, halle in German means hall or a “large room”, these houses were principally composed of a large room that would then be surrounded by smaller rooms. The internal divining walls between the rooms were only secondary, and thus placing the big room as the starting element of the house design. In Berlin, these houses tended to be narrower and often presented a second storey (see fig. 6), at this time the staircase still presented no specific standard location; but the activities that took place in the large room are precedent to those that took over the courtyards of the nineteenth century struc-tures. Along with some servants and temporary travellers, the single family that would usually occupy them would use the large central room for the production of goods or to manage the family business (Peschken 49). As time progressed these type of houses decreased in produc-tion and began to be replaced or transformed into apartments for various families. From this point onwards, we begin to see greater changes in the housing scheme.

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The Bürgerliche Wohnhaus designs by Martin Grünberg thus makes its way into the eighteenth century, clearly separating living and working environments. An aspect expressed through its German name, for wohn- derives from the word wohnen that means to live or to dwell. Business and production was now taking place outside in the back yards, where sheds were constructed for the purposes. However, the ground level street front was still able to keep functioning for commercial use. Instead of a production space, as its predecessor, shops and offices would now be found here. Thus we begin to witness a transition of (most) living quarters to the upper stories, showing an increase in the number of floors per building. There was an evident change from the small craftsmen housing to factory-oriented building, constructed and owned by the bourgeoisie. During the late eighteenth century it was commonality for the owner of the house to have his own industry business in the courtyard, while his living quarters were on the upper stories. This led to the reception rooms (where guests would be received) to be positioned on the street front, the most prominent part of the house. This is when the courtyard house type begins to develop. The ground level was now principally reserved for working purposes, while the upper story would be for living. However, the rear wings of the building began to present “workshops and the rooms for the servants, for in addition to those who came in from outside to work, there were some who slept in the house” (Peschken 50). By the beginning of the nine-teenth century many of the qualities that would later characterize the Mietshaus and would “remain so until the beginning of the twentieth century” were already established: “the entrance to the yard, the position of the stairs to the yard, and the arrangement of the best rooms at the front of the house” (Peschken 50). Another aspect that led to the increase in number of floors was the mandatory billeting of sol-diers ordered by the king. Before Berlin entered the industrial age, it was principally known as a garrison town. Therefore, the king’s demand for taller buildings (at least 4 stories) was not only for a dominant aesthetic quality, but also as a means for homeowners to offer living quarters to the soldiers. Eventually leading to the formation of the term Mietskaserne (“rental barracks”).

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Fig. 6. Middle Ages House in Fischerstrasse (now demolished); in Goerd Peschken, “The Berlin ‘Miethaus’ and Renovation”, Architectural Review (1983, print).

By this time Schinkel also presents new designs for the Bürgerhaus (see fig. 7), but unlike what the king desired he proposed a maximum of three stories. Although his height standards did not took force, the arrangement of space in his designs continued onwards. His plans use a hallway to separate the prestigious front rooms of the family from the servant and utility rooms that were commonly in the back wings. Although many of his plans were targeted towards the upper classes, for they did not permitted the active takeover of the courtyard for industrial purposes, the hallway arrangement continued to be used. Opening up the possibilities for flexible interior configuration.

Schinkel’s Bürgerhaus design greatly influenced subsequent generations; however these houses were built with a basement and included five to six stories rather than the proposed three. These design ideas began to be greatly implemented in the Kreuzberg/Luisenstadt area, where many rich factory owners lived. The result led to the construction of various Bürgerhaus type buildings with a predominant focus towards industry; the courtyard became centre stage to production. As Berlin began a rapid transformation to an industrial powerhouse, by the 1880s it was common for these buildings to be rented per floor for commercial purposes. Domestic life was no longer exclusive of the upper floors. Even so, much of industrial uses remained in the courtyards. Although the Mietshaus is heavily based on the bourgeoisie house type, principally due to these houses being initially owned by wealthy factory owners (who also resided in them), there are some examples of tenement houses that were designed “exclusively” for the proletariat population. A prominent example is Meyer’s Hof in the district of Wedding. In contrast to the more common Bürgerhaus type that surrounded a courtyard, this type is arranged in a set of rows separated by a courtyards; but here the rows would only close two sides of the yard, with toilet sheds every 2 rows on the lateral walls. Although this particular kind of building was not

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Fig. 7. Schinkel Bürgerhaus design; in Goerd Peschken, “The Berlin ‘Miethaus’ and Renovation”, Architectural Review (1983, print).

widely used, “it later became a notorious negative symbol of the tenement city” (Bodenschatz 20). Created to house the low income working masses, Meyer’s Hof presents a design based on maximum profit. Meaning it aimed at renting to the greatest number of residents possible; however, its design also demonstrates the flexibility of its internal configuration.

Meyer’s Hof

When observing pre-1970s areal photos of Ackerstraße 132/133 from the former district of Wedding (today in Gesundbrunnen district), it is unavoidable to notice a set of six five-story row buildings. This was Meyer’s Hof most striking and particular characteristic. Built during the 1870s, its sequence of six courtyards set it apart from the typical fabric around it (see fig. 8). Its cross-wing internal design led to the creation of very small apartments, however these were usually not grouped together. The central hallway (which was shared by all inhabitants) would separate the room and kitchen from the parlour (reception) room, which like in the Bürgerhaus would be placed facing the street. Those in the back buildings, however, would inevitably face the courtyard but also face the reception rooms of the building across. So we get a parlour to parlour and room to room sequence. Since the apartments facing the street were the most privi-leged, only these would have bigger reception rooms than the rest in the back buildings.

The reconstructed plan demonstrates that only those apartments on the first building, besides having a privileged location facing the street, their greater dimension is also indicative of them being likely occupied by better paid workers like city officers, industry owners, etc. As one pro-gresses into the site, the individual unites become much smaller. A typical back building parlour would be about 12 meters square but the room and the kitchen space would be about half of that. Thus Meyer’s Hof high rate of overcrowding becomes apparent; at about 300 apartments it was a clear example of high building speculation. The intentional dissection of the apartment units by a public corridor is also notable, for building speculators acknowledged that their ten-ants would not be capable of paying the rent without having to take in night lodgers. Separation of the spaces thus allowed for a flexible arrangement of uses, were the night lodgers would

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Fig. 8. Meyer’s Hof (plan reconstruction); in Johann F. Geist and Klaus Krüvers, Das Berliner Mietshaus: 1862-1945 (1984, print).

often be allocated to the parlour. Additionally, this also permitted for the commercial use of the living quarters themselves. The family (often the wife and children) would use the reception room for some kind of work; this could range from dress making and sowing to brush making. Such use of the spaces led to Meyer’s Hof being described as a city within a city. All kind of activities and businesses would take place in the whole site, but especially the courtyards (see fig. 9). Food processing sheds could be found next to industrial sheds that were in close prox-imity to a church and sometimes to living quarters (see fig. 10). Meyer’s Hof was the ultimate representation of everything that was wrong with the tenement houses, but at the same time, a great example of the Mietshaus’ versatility. Since a great part of the internal wall divisions were secondary, it was easy for the tenants and/or the owner to change the internal configuration if desired. This later becomes one of the principle characteristics that allow for the re-evaluation of the tenement houses.

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Fig. 9. Placard showing some activities in Mey-er’s Hof; in Johann F. Geist and Klaus Krüvers, Das Berliner Mietshaus: 1862-1945 (1984, print).

Fig. 10. Meyer’s Hof ground plan showing several businesses (activities); in Johann F. Geist and Klaus Krüvers, Das Berliner Mietshaus: 1862-1945 (1984, print).

The typical Mietshaus

Meyer’s Hof is often seen as the prime example of what the Mietskasernen were, for it was the sum of all the bad and all the “good”; but its plan was not widespread. It was the Bürgerhaus that dominated the city, or better say the actual courtyard type. Additionally Meyer’s Hof wide front of about 40 meters is the exception to the more common narrow fronts of 30 to 15 meters wide. The logic behind the more common use of narrow fronts over wide ones lies principally on Berlin’s grid layout, but especially on speculative building. As the city continued to grow in population and dimension, new districts were being planned. The new areas would have “bou-levards of at least 30 meter wide, linked by 26 meter wide cross streets” (Read and Fisher 94), measurements based off Haussmann’s Paris. “The original plan was for the blocks between the boulevards to be subdivided by a network of smaller streets, on which houses and apartments would be built” (Read and Fisher 95); but due to a rapid increase in land value the tertiary streets never came to be, and were perceived as a potential waste of production and money. This resulted in the rapid construction of the Mietskasernen as a means to avoid the potential obliga-tion of building the small internal streets, and thus spending more money. Furthermore there was a regulation that required “a given relationship between road width and building height” (Scheffler 159), leading many land owners to build wide streets as a means of achieving maximum building height. Since wide roads were not cheap to make, the solution was to build narrow and deep. This not only meant that the decorated street front façade would be less expensive (for the front was narrow), but that a great number of apartments would be on the back buildings. These apartments came to be the infamous small proletariats’ living quar-ters, from which the plot owner would extract most of his money by building to the maximum allowed. In the very beginning of tenement house construction, such speculative construction would sometimes lead to the formation of wells for ventilation rather than actual courtyards.

Even though much of Berlin’s industrial housing sprang up rapidly in the late nineteenth cen-tury, fire safety regulations of the mid nineteenth century controlled much of its future construc-tion. Karl Ludwig von Hinckeldey was one of the city’s most remarkable officials. Appointed president of police from 1848 to 1856, he established Berlin’s first professional fire department and the first regular refuse service. In his view, the continual population growth of the city and the high overcrowding rates were ever increasing the dangers of widespread fire. Therefore, in 1851 he introduced the first building regulations so that there could be better control over safety in the Mietskasernen (see fig. 11, a and b). Existing regulations still allowed high densities, so Hinckeldey focused on fire prevention. New buildings were to have a limit of 5 storeys, the maximum height a firemen’s ladder could reach at the time; and the courtyards were command-ed to be at least 5.3 square meters, “the minimum turning circle for a Berlin fire engine” (Read and Fisher 95). In Aldo Rossi’s words, “block structures derived from the police regulations of 1851, constitute one of the most integral forms of exploitation of the urban lands” (Rossi 74); eventually leading to designing in relation to a sequence of courtyards. However, with the intro-duction of a new building code in 1887, the dimensions of the courtyards and block in general improved. These spaces were now much larger, permitting a notable boost of natural light and air circulation into the deep courtyards (fig. 11, c and d).

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The sequence of courtyards that the traditional Berlin block presents was greatly valuable for they allowed a wide range of uses to take place in them, as we saw with Meyer’s Hof. This quality, however, becomes much more important after the partial destruction of the block as a repercussion of war bombing. Hence, the principle quality that remains and was prominent during the nineteenth century and after the re-discovery of the block was the versatility of its internal configuration. Unlike Meyer’s Hof example, the majority of the blocks were composed of the Bürgerhaus type of building. These structures would commonly surround a courtyard completely, but like the former most of them presented a “tunnel of archways” (Read and Fisher 95) that would permit entrance into these courtyards from the street. Since these buildings be-gan as models for the bourgeoisie, it is very common to find a dimensional deduction as one goes deeper into the block. The street front units would be saved for the middle classes, and the back units to the poor working class. Resulting in variation of inhabitants that would take place horizontally and vertically. This variation can be directly associated with the circulation system of the individual build-ings. Thus we come back to Schinkel’s positioning of the corridor. In his bourgeoisie designs the corridor served to separate the most prestigious rooms from the servant’s and utility rooms, a division between front and rear block rows, but linked by a corridor running along the side wings. However as the demand for housing increased, the corridor evolved into a shared pub-lic space. In the most basic form it would surround the courtyard building, were only the side wings would be single loaded, and vertical access would be allocated on all four sides. Such a configuration allows two big apartments per floor (paralleling Schinkel). When the corridor be-gins to be cut down or segmented, we begin to see an increase in the possible number of apart-ments (see fig. 12). Due to the midway location of the staircases on all four sides, it is possible to reduce the continuous corridor into four smaller corridors on each side; servicing four to two

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Fig. 11. (a) Mietshaus plan according to 1851 regulations, (b) typical Mietshaus section 1851, (c) typical block perspective after code of 1887, (d) block plan acording to 1887 building code; in Aldo Rossi, The Architecture of the City (1984, print).

(a) (b)

(c) (d)

apartments each. In some cases a wall would divide a double corridor so that four rather than two apartments could be rented. Since vertical access remained unchanged, it was also possible to have variation within the structure as a whole. So one could get, for example, twelve single room apartments on one floor and two large apartments on the next floor. Resulting in a wide variation of the residents within the building block, this also reflected on the rents. A tenement house on 99 Skalitzer Straße, “for example, generated annual rents from its twenty-nine apart-ments that ranged from 2,400 reichsmarks to 276” (Whyte and Frisby 135).

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Fig. 12. Corridor flexibility and apartment division; in Johann F. Geist and Klaus Krüvers, Das Berliner Mietshaus: 1862-1945 (1984, print).

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Fig. 13. Multiple examples of dwelling unit variation and quantity, (a) and (b); in Aldo Rossi The Architecture of the City; (c), (d) and (e) have the different units marked, in Johann F. Geist and Klaus Krüvers, Das Berliner Mietshaus: 1862-1945 (1984, print).

(a)

(b)

(c)

(d)

(e)

For the Berlin of the nineteenth century, this flexibility was crucial. Renters and their housing demands varied, so it was necessary for builders to have the possibility to reconfigure the long rows of similar rooms during or even after construction to satisfy a demand for larger or smaller apartments” (Ladd 102). This same configuration also had the possibility for apartments to be made of different rooms in the hallway, but quite often the rooms were directly beside each other. With the industrial boom and the ever-increasing proletariat population, the need for variation decreased. The high demand for cheap housing (most of the city’s residents were in poverty), led to most of the buildings being divided into small apartments. By the early twenti-eth century, the average apartment consisted of one to two rooms.

The post-war block

The post war years after 1945 brought a complete new image to the block. Since the “rental barracks” were also the main houses of major industries, and these were widespread across the city, they became crucial military targets. Consequently the districts of Wedding, Kreuzberg and Prenzlauerberg got the worst hit. The traditional nineteenth century block was now thinned out, and one could see half standing tenement houses, and courtyards that used to be half the size of what they were now. Although the partial destruction (in some places sever and in others much of the original block survived) had brought some kind of perceived positive contribution, the general perspective was to destroy the long despised Mietskasernen. Thus the nineteenth century structures continued to be neglected until their rediscovery in the 1970s, when the mod-ernist alternatives were no longer satisfactory for the general public.

There was some degree of change to the traditional form, but its new morphology offered greater advantages and opportunities for urban living. The tight configuration had been thinned out, and now many spaces were former tenement buildings or industries stood, were replaced by pocket spaces (see fig. 14). New usage opportunities sprang up and living quality within the old buildings improved. Access to sunlight and plenty of air circulation was no longer a problem. The new external spaces became gardens, pocket parks or even land for the set up of kindergartens. Even though the previous use of the courtyards also catered for different uses, the new and often bigger spaces offered healthier environments than their predecessors. Also important, was the retreat of many hazardous industrial uses that used to occur in the blocks.

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Fig. 14. The diagram shows the block before and after World War II bombing.

pocket spaces

The old decorated facades that used to hide the wretched conditions in which citizens lived for a long time were gone, and now the internal spaces of many blocks were open to the outer eye. Back walls of old tenement houses became part of Berlin’s visual aesthetic; although seen as undesirable elements in the city, the exposure of the walls offered those who live behind them the opportunity to open up new windows. Furthermore, some pocket spaces would combine with old courtyards and walking from street to street within the block became a possibility. For huge urban blocks, this was a turn around. Traditionally, courtyards could only be accessed in one direction and would end with a horse stall or industrial shed at the very back. The pockets spaces thus offered, in some cases, the opportunity for greater circulation throughout the entire block. Flexibility and enhanced living conditions became attached to the idea of the post-war mor-phology, but particularly after the 70s. Equally important was the internal configuration of the buildings. The versatility of easy rearrangement allowed their new inhabitants to find cheap accommodation that could be organized as they wished. Hence the intended flexibility granted by their nineteenth century builders was regained during this period. Modernist alternatives were no longer desirable, they were often far away form the city, offered little to no urban living qualities and were quite inflexible.

Mietskasernen were now a model to follow. They offered vertical and horizontal variation, and granted different families and individuals the opportunity to own or rent cheap housing. The commercial uses at ground level became more valuable than modernist zoning, for they provided inhabitants of the block with all the basic necessities at walking distance, at times less than five minutes. The complex sequence of spaces, externally and internally, not only offers a better circulation but also grant greater sense of individuality. The latter an important quality for the creation of a sense of community, for modernist serialization of dwellings does not allow for a wide mixture of inhabitants. This would be in terms of dimension and internal configuration, mostly targeted to a specific family size, and in terms of social class. Overall, were mixture is present results often lead to lively urban neighborhoods.

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The block for the compact city

The nineteenth century block has proven to be a strong resilient form in Berlin’s urban history, especially since it has been able to transcend the city’s character of discontinuity. Even though it was greatly stigmatized from the moment of its conception, particularly after the Mietshäuser began to be perceived only as slums, it managed to survive 50 years of neglect. Its rediscovery and rehabilitation in the 70s, however, allowed the block to become one of Berlin’s principal icons and preferred living spaces. IBA’s “critical reconstruction” and “careful urban renewal” also helped in bringing back to life many of the block’s positive intrinsic characteristics. More-over, the many architectural competitions that IBA promoted for redevelopment enabled the introduction of new forms into the city. This resulted in much experimentation and ultimately in new ways of interpreting and challenging the idea of the traditional block; which ultimately led to the fabrication of modes of living that promote compact living.

The courtyard block, the tower and the row house

Current urban demands may place the block as model for liveable compact European cities; however, this should not be the case. Although the block and its Mietshäuser have demonstrated to be truly versatile, they should be approached as tools rather than models. Particularly when considering that today’s most favoured cities are often a compilation of multiple layers of ar-chitectural histories. Making critical that a continual flux of change prevails. The Berlin of the 80s was an architectural and urban planning laboratory that produced successful and innovative projects using the traditional block as their basis. Making clear that the capital could regain its urbanity and identity through mixture of old and new elements in its fabric. The block’s mor-phology and typology of its Mietshäuser provided several key elements towards the formation of liveable compact environments. Two of these elements were the possibility for high densi-ties and mixed uses, introduced by IBA as principles for city regeneration. This approach was a retreat from previous urban forms, such as the tower and slab, or row houses.Consequently, to better understand the block’s value and advantages as a tool, a comparison with alternative forms is fundamental. Especially when developing designs for compact envi-ronments. For this matter, the typical courtyard block configuration will be weighted up against two other common forms, the point block and row houses (see fig. 15). Of these, the former (also known as the tower model) was greatly used in the mid-twentieth century as an alterna-tive living mode, especially since there was a general sentiment of unconformity with the old tenement houses. Modernists like Le Corbusier, Walter Gropius and other architects of the time became principle promoters of this form. A typical example would be Berlin’s Hansa Quarter.

The tower form was attractive for it represented the antithesis of the typical block, a high-rise building (usually surpassing the five to six storeys) isolated from other structures in an open space. All dwellings would have views towards the street, access to plenty of natural sunlight and greater air circulation. Furthermore, it meant that there was possibility to regain open space

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in the city. The crowded and tight configurations of traditional blocks could be replaced by a couple of towers housing more or less the same number of residents; while providing plenty of open space. Despite the advantages, the point block did not last long; it still lacked many other important qualities for the creation of urban neighbourhoods. Its mere isolation was problematic in some principle ways; the lack of a direct relationship between street and building led to a loss of a sense of community, for the building became its own entity and the surroundings no longer offered a differentiation of public and private spaces (typical of consolidated neighbourhoods). Additionally, the wide-open spaces would tend to be underused and even perceived as unsafe; the distance between towers did not allowed for a natural policing of these spaces while at the same time reducing the possibilities for human interactions between neighbours. In terms of mixed uses, its capabilities were also low. The tower’s relatively small plan dimensions would leave little space for businesses, often leading to one-use ground floors. Lastly, its internal morphology can only offer a vertical circulation (in most cases a single one). This tends to develop a very low variety of uses, where the first two floors could be used for commercial purposes while the rest are exclusively for housing.

Unlike the tower and the block, row house models tend to have lower heights (typically be-tween three to four storeys) and are arranged in a sequence of rows. Such an arrangement al-lows each individual unit to have a backyard, providing its inhabitants access to a private green space. Although initially created as individual family houses, its internal morphology may be changed into apartments per floor. Its proximity to the street creates a better public environment than the latter form, and is much more flexible in terms of mixed uses. However, due to its re-petitive morphology the intensity of non-residential activities remains low compared to that of the block. Thus encouraging these uses to remain on the first two floors, or take over one whole unit. Moreover, orientation is generally directed towards the street; often resulting on the sides to be neglected, and back gardens to become completely isolated. Circulation is thus divided between the individual units, were it is vertical, and the sidewalk, the principle mode of circula-tion occurring horizontally.

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Fig. 15. The three different architectural forms (the point-block, the row house and the courtyard block) may have the same density, but present very divergent conditions; in Housing for a Compact City (2003, print).

When compared to the previous two models the courtyard block configuration demonstrates further positive advantages. Like the row house model the block presents a direct relationship between street and building, but its multiple orientations sets it apart. Here each side of the block is important, and although traditional buildings highlight the street front as their main orienta-tion, new projects have also taken advantage of the potential for inward courtyard orientation. Furthermore, the courtyard can be accessed directly from the street, opening the possibilities towards a greater variety of activities and circulation. Due to the possibility of varying building heights and internal morphology, non-residential activities can take place basically anywhere in the block. Especially when one considers the Mietshaus’ internal flexibility as a basis, which at the same time opens up the opportunity for internal vertical and horizontal circulation, while ground circulation can be extended into the courtyard space or other spaces of the block.

Influence of the Berlin block

In the Berlin context there are multiple architectural examples that take on the qualities of the nineteenth century block; some of the most influential directed under IBA’s competitions and city renewal principles during the 80s. Two major examples are Herman Hertzberger’s LiMa Housing in south Friedrichstadt and Kreuzberg Block 79’s multiple renewal schemes. The for-mer belongs to IBA’s Neubau critical reconstruction plans for the city areas most affected by bombing. This project’s take on the courtyard serves to demonstrate the possibility for provid-ing dense compact liveable environments, especially when courtyards were still perceived as negative spaces. While the latter belongs to the Altbau urban renewal programme, becoming a prime example of the multiple opportunities that the old block morphology has to offer. Al-though at different scales, the compactness of both examples serve to highlight that it is possible to maintain efficient liveable urban conditions while retaining medium to high densities.

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Fig. 16. LiMa Housing by Herman Hertzberger, (a) axonometric view (b) plan showing dwelling variation; in Clelland Doug, “Housing, Lindenstrasse”, The Architectural Review (1987, print).

(a) (b)

LiMa Housing (see fig. 16), which completes the corner between Lindenstrasse and Mark-grafenstrasse, is made of three and four storey dwelling stacks. Its design is a clear reflection on ideas of the traditional Berlin block. Although compact the configuration allows for a good provision of sunlight into the courtyard, due to Hertzberger’s planned ratio between height and building distance. At the same time the dimensions of the courtyard space permit for a gradation of private balcony gardens and a semi-public (there are five public entrances at ground level) space with a children’s play area. Also important to the scheme is the variation in dwelling types. Apartments range from two to five rooms, welcoming varying family sizes. Overall the project’s openness, respect for tradition and humane ingenuity” (Clelland 59) makes it one of the most important of the IBA 1987.

Block 79 (see fig. 17 a) in Kreuzberg serves to show the multiple possibilities of the traditional block. Most of its mixed morphology remained intact, so little demolition took place. Even so, the gained new open spaces also aided toward improved liveable conditions; while courtyard spaces and buildings were modernized and regenerated. Due to the flexibility of the Mietshaus, it was possible to create bigger flats and still allow for variation to happen. Whilst the number of apartments decreased, the density level could now be at a healthier rate. Besides the internal renovation in the block as a whole, other important non-residential projects took place. Since courtyards had traditionally houses multiple types of industry, the many leftover outbuildings could now be taken for other uses. One example is the old garages on 15 Adalbertstrasse (see fig. 17 b); now functioning as workshops, offices, artist studios and a child care centre. Another project is in 69 Naunynstrasse, where a child day-care centre may be found in the middle of the block. Here an old industrial complex and its courtyard have been renovated and altered for the establishment of the centre, and a play area in its courtyard.

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Fig. 17. (a) Axonometric view of Block 79, (b) 15 Adalbertstrasse’s renovated garages now working as studios and offices ; in Step by Step: Careful Urban Renewal in Kreuzberg (1994, print).

Another block city

Berlin’s urban block development and evolution is very much unique, but its nineteenth century morphology is not. Due to the multiple advantages of the courtyard, especially its flexibility (exemplified with Block 79), the type was not exclusive to the German capital. In fact, it be-came quite common throughout central Europe; some other cities that made active use of it were Hamburg, Prague, Vienna and in some way Barcelona. Even though the Barcelona case differs greatly in implementation and form, its evolution serves to demonstrate the value that the courtyard blocks offer to the city. This case is particular for it underwent various morpho-logical changes in time, according to urban demands and ideals, but with the eventual outcome of a return to much of its original courtyard design. The Barcelona block was developed by Ildefons Cerdà as the building block for the Eixample district extension of the city of Barcelona (see fig. 18). The old city was reaching its maximum capacity, and like its German counterpart the city was confronted with mass immigration espe-cially from the 1900s onwards (sometime later than Berlin), thus leading to a high demand in housing. The walled medieval Ciutat Vella had to open up and expand. However, unlike Berlin, Barcelona sought for a well-formulated plan, which Cerdà generated through a complete urban and geographical analysis. As a consequence the city presents a regimented plan of octagonal blocks, very characteristic of Barcelona. The chamfered corners were essential for circulation, in Cerdà’s view they could facilitate intersection crossing and “provide a guideline for building alignment around the edges of the street block” (Busquets 129).

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Fig. 18. Present day Eixample plan; in Joan Busquets, Barcelona: The Urban Evolution of a Compact City (2005, print).

Cerdà’s initial plans were for the blocks to have built up space on only two sides, and low build-ing heights; but as the plans and development for the Eixample got more detailed, he began to allow construction on all four sides. In contrast to what developed later on, his enclosed blocks still provided access to the inner courtyard space, which he meant to be used as a garden. A typi-cal example of Cerdà’s original intentions is Passatge Permanyer (see fig. 19), which also shows intent in homogenizing the city by providing good varying housing for all its citizens, regard-less of class. While, keeping an overall aesthetic of sameness and order across Barcelona, only the built composition would differ slightly. Passatge Permanyer for instance presents five storey apartment buildings (also known as Casas de renta) that take opposites sides of the block, while the middle is occupied by a passage lined with 17 single-family houses. This type of building configuration was, however, not the only one employed. Other models show L-shape and U-shape configurations.

These living units, primarily the Casas de renta became very popular; and like their Berlin counterpart, they were able to house a variety of social classes, and non-residential activities on the ground floor. Although, heavy industrial activities like those in the Mietskasernen were not principle. As time progressed the blocks began to be closed on all four sides and the inner courtyard to be built up, an event that may be attributed to Cerdà’s regulations on the matter being left out at the time the project was approved. Leading to an increase in building heights and depth, while also constructing on land plots originally reserved for parks and other facili-ties. During the mid-twentieth century the block experienced great changes. Building height increased through external additions and also deepened into the courtyard, were very little trace of its garden beginnings was left. Compactness through Cerdà’s model was reaching liveable limits. Consequently the late 1980s saw a retrocession of the block’s form (see fig. 20). Build-ing depths of the mid-century were kept, but heights were brought back basically to late 1800s ones and the courtyard began to be re-opened. Even so, the block still allows for “a wide variety

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Fig. 19. Passatge Permanyer plan; in Joan Busquets, Barcelona: The Urban Evolu-tion of a Compact City (2005, print).

of urban uses”, which Busquets attributes to the “admirable architectural flexibility” (299) of the same. Overall, the Barcelona block like its Berlin analogue provides the “morphological adaptability” (Busquets 299) needed for the creation of compact city environments. This may not only be perceived architecturally, but also numerically since Barcelona presents greater densities than Berlin. Although the Spanish city has less inhabitants than the German capital, the use of the Eixample block morphology has enabled the city to retain a certain surface area; and become a clear example of the effectiveness of the courtyard block in providing liveable urbanities. How-ever, there are two major differences. In terms of dimension, Barcelona presents a regimented plan of equally sized blocks of about 1 hectare; while Berlin (although based from a plan) presents a wide array of block dimensions and even non-rectangular forms, but often these tend to be double to quadruple the size of the Eixample. In terms of citywide morphology, Berlin contrast greatly due to the partial destruction of the block as a consequence of war. Even so, this very fragmentation opened up greater opportunities within the block, and allowed the form to thrive. Consequently the use of the courtyard model in both cities has enabled the creation of compact and efficient urban environments. This effect can be seen through a general preference towards settlement in the Eixample, where today the amount of buildings and activities are far greater than what Cerdà had expected, and Berlin’s old tenement house areas, which have been brought back to life and new activities continue to make their way into the fabric.

A model or a tool?

The nineteenth century block’s influence on Berlin has transcended time and provided the city with an opportunity to return to a lost sense of urbanity. In the most recent history of the city, there has been an evident rise in attention towards the block and its morphology. Much of which took force after the introduction of IBA’s ‘critical reconstruction’ an idea initiated by Josef Paul Kleihues, director of the IBA from 1979 to 1987. During this time the primordial goal was to allow for the integration of contemporary architecture on to the existing fabric of the city, while regenerating ‘inner city life’ (Clelland and Davey 28). This approach towards urban regenera-tion took the traditional Berlin block as a basis, and proved to be quite successful. Overall, the block was viewed as a tool rather than a model to be copied; a perspective that permitted Berlin to grow in terms of urbanity and architecture during this time period.

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Fig. 20 . Diagrams showing the evolution of Cerdà’s Barcelona block; in Joan Busquets, Barcelona: The Urban Evolution of a Compact City (2005, print).

However, the innovative ideas that IBA explored during the 80s were lost in the twentieth cen-tury under Hans Stimmann, who promoted a more narrow view about ‘critical reconstruction’. In his perspective, Berlin had to make a complete return to its nineteenth century urbanity. He considered the several architectural and urban experimentations that took place between the 1920s and 1970s to be outright failures and therefore, a “return to traditional urbanism” (Stim-mann 51) was necessary. Although he still allowed the implementation of some non-conser-vative projects, most would end up challenged by his city ideals. Daniel Libeskind, one of his strongest contenders, argues that such ideals have led to “a staggering degree of regimentation and control” that “leading successful architects find it impossible to produce buildings that match the great architectural legacy of Berlin” (Libeskind 35). Amongst the affected has been Phillip Johnson, who even “apologized” about his design for the American Business Centre “explaining that no other modern city could ever have forced him to do such a boring and me-diocre design” (Libeskind 35). Berlin’s urban future was thus placed in a dangerous zone by forcing stagnation of its architec-ture, rather than enabling the possibilities for continual modifications that could boost the city. This is an important aspect of European urbanity for old city centres tend to be richer than their peripheral extensions, a consequence of the different histories embedded in them. Therefore, inner city spaces should be in a constant flux of transformation; or opt for regenerative design schemes that encourage the creation of versatile urban spaces. With this in mind, it is crucial to understand that a push towards regimented “banal uniformity” (Libeskind 35) would only deteriorate existing urban diversities. As stated by Stegers in his essay Artless Berlin, “open-ness and co-existence remain an essential part of Berlin’s architecture [, where] historians have discovered at least seven layers of different styles in the centre” (Stegers 56). Such discover-ies thus reinforce the value of the nineteenth century block as a tool, rather than a model to be duplicated across the city. In Libeskind’s words, “meaningful architecture is not to parody history but to articulate it; it is not to erase history but to deal with it” (Libeskind 36). Just as the various architectural projects of the 80s reflected on the courtyard block as a tool, future city development should aim to continue doing so while allowing innovation and new ideas to enrich the city.

The block for a liveable and compact fabric

As it has been presented, the Berlin block demonstrates to be a valuable tool from which to de-velop new urban schemes. Although much of the conversation has revolved around Berlin, the principles that may be extracted from the nineteenth century form are open for application in other European cities. Especially considering that this particular form also emerged in other ur-ban areas of the continent. Additionally, it is important to consider that its qualities have begun to be discussed within the framework of sustainability. Although the paper does not focus on technical ecological issues, it is important to note the block’s potential conditions for “sustain-able” living and economic development. Therefore, is fundamental to consider the current de-bate on centrist and decentrist ideas, for they provide a better perspective on the matter. Within

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this debate, the block will be presented as an effective antidote (alternative) rather than an ulti-mate representation of one view or the other. Furthermore, its qualities will be valued through current concepts of ideal compact city models, particularly those presented by Richard Rogers. Current debates on what would be the ideal urban form for the development of compact and “sustainable” (efficient) cities has taken on two major opposite stands, centrism and decentrism. Of these two, the latter presents a longer history in urban planning, and its origins may be traced as back as the late 1800s. The development of decentrist ideas were a reaction against the indus-trial city that had come to be seen as “the epitome of the un-city” (Bodenschatz 19), for these were places of blight, overcrowding and rampant with diseases. Amongst the first to suggest an alternative to the “centripetal urbanization” (Breheny 15) mode of growth, was Ebenezer How-ard. His suggestion for Garden Cities proposed the development of self-sufficient new towns bordered and contained by green belts. Although his ideas evolved into concepts supporting urban sprawl, Michael Breheny suggests that Howard’s explorations were neither decentrist nor centrist, but a middle ground between urban and rural living. In fact, Howard’s principle aim was to develop living environments in which the best of both modes of dwelling was possible. Nonetheless, Howard’s concepts led towards a desire “to plan for communities in healthy and efficient surroundings” (Breheny 15); consequently leading to the development of extreme de-centrist and centrist ideals, which Breheny associates with Frank Lloyd Wright’ Broadacres City and Le Corbusier’s La Ville Radieuse respectively. The former may be perceived as an evolution of the Garden City model, with Frank Lloyd Wright as its extreme representative and promoter during the 1920s and 30s. Lloyd’s ultimate model for decentrism was outlined in his designs for Broadacres City, a suburban and rural concept for living. His design was heavily based on single family homes, were each unit would possess its own plot of land; and were re-sources would be scattered on a radius of about 16 to 32 kilometers. For Lloyd the spreading of the city would be facilitated by the automobile and advanced telecommunications; in his view the people were to be liberated from the congested and unhealthy cities. While Lloyd was proposing a return to the land, the French-Swiss architect Le Corbusier elabo-rated a radical approach. His visions were opposite to Lloyd’s and were embodied in his Ville Radiesue city concept. Rather than thinning densities across the land, he proposes that increas-ing densities could solve the congested city and its problems. The high-rise was thus presented as the ultimate model, which could hold high densities while allowing the opening up of the city at ground level. This could allow the creation of parks and other facilities for an enhanced urban quality of life. Unlike Lloyd’s “nation of individuals” (17), Le Corbusier’s model aimed towards a “collectivist city” (Breheny 18) where people lived in close proximity while sharing common ground facilities and green spaces. Although his ideas were implemented in various projects during the 1960s, particularly as a solution against undesirable suburban expansion and overcrowding, many of these failed to achieve the desired urban qualities they had promoted. Although Lloyd’s nor Corbusier’s models come up with successful solutions for the future of cities, the 80s revived the debate with greater force. There was a realization that population growth would only continue to peak each year, along with an ever-increasing demand for af-fordable housing; so it was crucial to find an effective urban form that could cater toward these

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needs while enabling cities to continue growing from within rather than expanding. Breheny states that centrist ideas have taken the lead for they are now promoting compactness. Two dominant and logical arguments support this idea. First, that compactness leads to a reduction on travel distances, which may reduce levels of pollution, a major sustainability issue. Second, creating compact environments rather than spreading may mitigate a loss of the countryside and its valuable habitats for plant and animal welfare. However, it is important to consider everyone will not always welcome such extreme centrists ideals. Particularly, if there is a strong emphasis towards controlled high density models that could come close to Corbusier’s vision of towers, were not everyone may have access to private green space. There must be an understanding that people will usually favour the big single-family house with a big private garden over smaller living units; an argument that has allowed decentrist sprawl to continue. Nonetheless, there are “merits to be taken from each of the ex-treme positions and demerits to be discarded” (Breheny 30). As a solution Breheny proposes a compromise that parallels Howard’s ideas; but rather than placing the block as a middle ground proposal, it should be seen as antidote, an alternative towards the formation of efficient cities. As a product of the dense industrial city of the nineteenth century, and commonly perceived as a cancerous urbanity, it is understandable why the block would be neglected for an extended period of time. This perspective was especially maintained due to the high densities that often led to overcrowding. Nevertheless, it is important to recognize that in their own time period, these were efficient cities. The lack of advanced transportation and other services forced these centres to remain compact as a means of survival. With new communication technologies and advancement in transportation, now covering greater distances, the last 200 years since indus-trial times have brought major changes to how cities work. As stated by Richard Rogers in his book Cities for a small planet, “with the availability of ‘green’ manufacturing, virtually clean power generation and public transport systems, and advanced sewage and waste systems, the dense city need not be seen as a health hazard” (32-33). Therefore, it is now possible to consider the advantages that compact forms like the block may offer.

In his book, Rogers points out two major qualities that support compact forms as ideals to fol-low for the elaboration of cities. The first quality is proximity, which he considers to be valu-able in social, economic and environmental terms. Face to face contact is important for human development, and compact forms are the ideal places for this to happen. “Only by ordering buildings and spaces to enable a dense network of access, interchange, contact, and innovation can cities stay alive.” (Rogers, Cities for a Small Country 16). Additionally, proximity enables the possibility for “integrated planning” as a means to reduce energy consumption, pollution and sprawling; all of which bring monetary and ecological advantages. The second quality may be summed up to complexity, which speaks of the advantages of mixed-used environments and variation. This applies to buildings and open spaces, where multifunctionality is key for the production of quality urban realms. Moreover, external and internal variation adds character and singularity, important for the creation of cohesive neighbourhoods. To this Rogers adds that “active citizenship and vibrant urban life [which is possible through these two major quali-ties] are essential components of a good city and of civic identity”; and for this to happen it is

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also important for the people to “feel that public space is in their communal ownership and re-sponsibility” (Cities for a small planet 16), this may be done through variation and a continual relationship between buildings and their surroundings.Overall, the nineteenth century Berlin block demonstrates to be a valuable urban tool. The flexibility of its Mietskasernen and “new” morphology (consequence of the war), are physical epitomes of the most important traits for the elaboration of compact efficient cities. Although Rogers also acknowledges that “traditional city buildings” (Cities for a small planet 33) are proper examples for the value of complexity, this does not mean that the traditional block should be copied. Instead it should serve as an urban tool from which to develop further steps in city making, for cities are places that undergo constant transformations.

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Conclusion

Berlin’s urban development through the nineteenth century block serves as an interesting ex-ample of how other Europeans cities may approach their own future growth. A matter that be-comes substantial when considering that cities of this region share similar histories and growth patterns; as well as architectural approaches due to the strong influence of international organi-zations like the Bauhaus and CIAM, which became principle promoters of the modernist move-ment during the 1900s. Although regulations to urban planning may vary from nation to nation, nonetheless, today Europe still continues to share ideas and patterns of growth. A situation that opens up the possibility to analyse similar or divergent urban fabric frameworks, extract key valuable elements from them, and apply these in other urban contexts.

In the case of the German capital, its value as an exemplar in terms of urban planning lies in its complex historical background of creation and destruction, and the resilience of its nineteenth century block in the post-war decades up until the 80s. Unlike other European cities, Berlin underwent some unique phases throughout its development. After 1945, great portions of the inner city were either completely or partially destroyed, a circumstance that pushed forward for the realization of some “future city” model projects of IBA 1957, amongst these Hansa Quarter. Even though this project and other ideologies of the time in the end never achieved to become successful models, they set the stage for Berlin as an experimental laboratory for planning and architecture in the subsequent years. With the re-emergence of the block some decades later and IBA 1987, Berlin became the ultimate microscope with which to analyse the nineteenth century fabric. Ultimately leading to a positive re-evaluation of the block as a potential and practical from for the creation of cohesive neighbourhoods. Another quite unique aspect of the German capital was the actual physical division that it con-fronted as an aftermath of the war. Built up in the decade of the 60s the Berlin Wall not only became the epitome of two antagonistic political regimes, but also came to represent a major obstacle for urban planning. Citywide plans came to be perceived as mere fantasies; but the architecture that came to be realized on both sides, although based on very different ideologies; the projects often paralleled each other. Making a clear statement that the influence of archi-tectural movements was very much universal. The most important aspect of the wall, however, was its influence on the city centre and its function. Inner city neighbourhoods like Kreuzberg and Wedding, were some of the traditional block had survived, suddenly became peripheral areas. Consequently losing their importance as preferred living quarters for city workers, and leading to an idle period of neglect during which much of the new architecture projects took place further away from the original city centre; that is, until the last decade before the fall of the wall in 1989.

These situations hence make Berlin a peculiar example to examine, especially for they re-enforce the resiliency of the nineteenth century urban fabric. Even though the traditional block was neglected for an extended period, today it makes up some of the city’s most liveable areas. The morphological reconfiguration that resulted from World War II bombing enabled living conditions to improve considerably, particularly through the creation of new pocket spaces.

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Demonstrating that there was possibility to free up space, while permitting multiple new func-tions to take place in them spontaneously. Additionally, the flexibility of the Mietskasernen also enabled citizens to obtain affordable housing within close proximity of the city centre, of great importance after the reunification of Berlin. The traditional block and its Miethäuser may then be seen as effective urban elements that granted Berlin the possibility to recover it “lost” sense of urbanity. A process that was possible through an understanding of the positive effects that compact living and mixed uses possess over modernist concepts of decentralization and zoning, like those applied to Hansa Quarter. Although a by-product of the industrial revolution, it has revealed that it is possible to offer a variety of housing and multiple urban amenities to their residents, while enabling a balanced co-existence between its people and non-residential activities. Along with the capacity of han-dling medium to high densities, this form demonstrated to be capable of creating liveable and diverse neighbourhoods within the inner city. Ultimately placing the nineteenth century block as a valuable urban model for growing cities. Despite being a potential model to follow, the mere duplication of the block would not be ideal either. Instead it should be approached as a tool from which to extract key qualities that may facilitate the creation of cohesive liveable urban neighbourhoods. The IBA of 1987 for instance takes on this approach, not only were old tenement houses renovated as with Block 79, but the Neubau areas focused on new projects that used the block as a basis for their development. Proj-ects like Herman Hertzberger’s LiMa housing demonstrated that is was possible to learn from the block; here for instance the unhealthy concept of the courtyard was reinterpreted as a posi-tive element that could be retained within the new fabric being developed. Ultimately claiming that new and traditional architectures may coexist and favour urban growth. Moreover, Hans Stimmann’s efforts to reconstruct Berlin strictly under classical ideals also serve to demonstrate the value of the block as a tool rather than a model of duplication. The strict regulations led the city to an apparent period of stagnation. Although the generation of new buildings continued to fill in the available spaces, the low level of new ideas or types of spaces slowed Berlin’s devel-opment and growth as a capital city for the twenty-first century.

As it can be seen, the development of quality urbanism in Berlin does not derive solely from a recycling of the block and its liveable advantages, but also relied on IBA’s international compe-titions. Big events of this kind have the potential of opening up opportunities for a generation of new innovative urban concepts. Consequently enabling cities to continue on a process of regenerative transformation, a key factor found in the most favoured cities. Especially when considering that these urban centres tend to encapsulate multiple architectural layers that add to their liveliness. Therefore, citywide events like IBA 1987 that focused on the inner city are important for the elaboration of efficient urbanities. The many projects that developed under the Neubau category came to demonstrate that not only was there a value to extract from the nineteenth century block, but that it was possible to create new and improved living conditions based on traditional forms, Hertzberger’s LiMa housing an example. What’s more, this led to a revelation that it is possible for new and old city fabrics or projects to combine and work ef-ficiently, ultimately enhancing existing urban conditions while opening up the possibility for greater uses to take place.

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With this in mind, it is then possible to begin to understand the positive effects that special events like IBA can exert over cities. Hamburg, for instance has been undergoing transforma-tions on its old inner city docklands for the creation of Hafen City. This is a completely new urban district that is growing and developing through the implementation of a flexible master-plan that derived from an international competition that took place in the late 90s. Although the conditions and situation is quite different to those of Berlin, Hafen City serves as an exemplar alternative approach to existing urban conditions. Its masterplan aims to establish close rela-tionships between new and existing buildings, while creating active public spaces and promot-ing mixed uses. Like its counterpart, urban planning in this new city quarter revolves around the qualities of the area’s historical remaining fabric, particularly the Speicherstadt, and the traditional block structure (a similar condition also emerged in Hamburg). Nonetheless, rather than mimicking block concept ideas, it challenges the form; becoming almost a reversal of the nineteenth century structure. Consequently creating “courtyard” spaces that mix and interact with the street, while retaining some of the “semi-private” character of traditional courtyards. Moreover, the flexibility of the project invites architects from all around the world to further develop Hafen City as a place of innovation, and ultimately in developing Hamburg as a city for the twenty-first century.

On account of what has been discussed and presented so far, the nineteenth century block clearly becomes a valuable tool in the formation of liveable neighbourhoods, in which medium to high densities can coexist in harmony with mixed uses. Nevertheless, it is substantial to highlight that although the block seems to provide concrete solutions, simple duplication is not the answer. Therefore it is important to consider that big events like international competitions also serve as great urban generation tools, for they have the capacity to challenge or expand on the values of the block through architectural experimentation. Ultimately, resulting in the creation of innovative designs that enhance exiting urban conditions. Another relevant aspect has been the recent debates on ideal city models for a sustainable future. Even though this piece of work does not focus on technical ecological issues, the traditional block presents qualities associated with effective economical and “sustainable” living patterns that share strong links to the compact city model. Richard Rogers defines this model as “a dense and socially diverse city where economic and social activities overlap and where communities are focused around neighbourhoods” (Cities for a Small Planet 33); a description that parallels principle character-istics of the block.

The nineteenth century block, despite its industrial revolution origins, has proven to be a valu-able urban tool due to its unprecedented resiliency and flexibility. Although highly effective within European parameters, due to the similar developmental conditions shared between cities of the region. The lessons that may be extracted from it may be transformed and adjusted to suite necessities and conditions elsewhere in the world. In this manner, due to its paralleling traits to that of the compact city model, the block may serve as tool in the formation of effective urban environments.

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ARCHITECTURAL ASSOCIATION SCHOOL OF ARCHITECTURE GRADUATE SCHOOL PROGRAMMES COVERSHEET FOR SUBMISSION 2013-14 PROGRAMME: MA Housing and Urbanism TERM: Term 4 STUDENT NAME(S): Marisela Soto Salas SUBMISSION TITLE: The Berlin Block as an Urban Tool: Rethinking the urban fabric COURSE TITLE: COURSE TUTOR: Hugo Hinsley SUBMISSION DATE: September 18, 2014 DECLARATION: “I certify that this piece of work is entirely my/our own and that any quotation or paraphrase from the published or unpublished work of others is duly acknowledged.” Signature of Student(s): Date: September 18, 2014

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