The other day while I was walking through downtown Richmond I stumbled on a small space with huge potential. It’s basically just a concrete slab, but what makes it special is that it’s located right in the middle of a city block. The concrete is connected to one building that forms an “L” around it. The area is accessible by three different alleys which all meet at the base of a somewhat beautiful, mature tree.
With some love, this could be a place to congregate just like the La Colombe near Logan Circle in D.C. The benefits of using these interior spaces is that they are quieter than the city streets and they are often cooler in the summer months because the buildings provide shade. They are cozy spaces, the diffused light is relaxing, and there is something charming about the irregular shapes. I love the surprise and delight of waking down an alley, turning a corner, and finding something you wouldn’t have expected,
The approach that is most familiar to me (I actually worked and parked in the building to the left years ago) is below. I love the way the buildings frame the old window and steeple of Second Presbyterian.
After you turn to the right, you start to get a glimpse of the destination. The area also starts to become more charming: the alley transitions to cobblestone, instead of a parking garage you have old brick and stained glass, and the tree is visible as well.
Despite being completely forgotten and unloved these granite stones are beautiful and the whole section would clean up very nicely.
This is the view from the space that I’m interested in. I appreciate how much there is to look at even in this small space. It feels like the medieval section of a city: winding, ad hoc, dense, and built to the human scale. The tree would also provide shade in the summer and a beautiful accent.
Here are two views of the actual space.
I am so in love with this idea. I had a similar vision for a space in Tyler many years ago and still believe in the potential of this sort of retrofit to bring new life and charm to cities. Whatever zoning process that’s required should be fast-tracked. Whatever the building around this space becomes (it’s currently being renovated), this should be a cafe or similar commercial space, with bistro lights, live music, and otherwise completely transformed into a beautiful and charming refuge in the middle of downtown Richmond.
I recently visited the Negro Burial Ground just east of downtown Richmond in Shockoe Valley. My approach to this site was across a VCU parking lot and through a tunnel under Broad St. As you walk through the tunnel, you emerge onto a huge empty field of beautiful grass that was once yet another parking lot in downtown Richmond. In recent years, the asphalt was removed and this area was designated “A Place of Contemplation and Reflection.” I appreciate this area mostly because it’s a complicated place. There aren’t physical buildings that most people would consider “historic,” but what happened on this one piece of ground (the public execution and careless burial of enslaved and free people) is considered enough to make the place significant today. Once a place of fear and violence, it has been restored to the people of Richmond as a place of silence and careful thought.
While I think the site itself is certainly worth visiting, what I really care about is a place located just above the actual burial grounds. From this vantage, you can see that less than 50 yards away from this place of contemplation is Interstate 95 in all of its glory. The cars and tractor trailers fly by on this crazy asphalt slingshot that shoots cars straight through the heart of my city. Like all highways, it’s a totally anonymous no man’s land where you don’t walk, you don’t slow down, and you don’t typically notice the historic burial grounds nearby. When you’re on a highway like this, you don’t care much for where you are because you’re more focussed on where you’re going. That’s essentially the nature of movement.
Highways and Hallowed Halls 