The gridded city is ancient, popularized by the Romans but not prevalent globally until the 18th century. When land is subdivided into equal—or by a factor divisible—parcels, it helps with both administration of the area and wayfinding through it. Gridirons are imposed over topography and are unresponsive to local organization. The curve of waterways, soil-born connective tissue of place, desire paths of mammals and migratory trajectories of birds are invisible to us. We navigate land now mapped as real estate without acknowledging we are crossing native walking trails that we have renamed “Clark” or “Halsted” or “Elston.” We fail to sense the dolomite parent rock we have anchored our tallest buildings into is also weathering and mineralizing the skin of soils made richer by deep-rooted perennial grasses since paved over. This logic is superimposed onto our swampy grassy homeland—vibrant, complex social spheres shape how we perceive and navigate space, conceptualize place, relate to each other.
What are we willing to risk when we don’t believe our livelihoods and vitality depend on the relational pathways that connect our neighborhoods, the health of our urban wildlife, the breathability of our air and soil?
