Tag: ContinuousPlaceBasedDesign

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340-degree vision

I read on a fact sheet that guinea pigs have 340-degree vision. On a horizontal plane they can see almost all around. Imagine! Their only blind spots are directly behind and a small patch directly in front of them. 

That’s because they are prey animals. They spend their whole waking time observing their environment for threats (they can even sleep with their eyes open). And while they can’t see far, they build up a detailed mental map of their surroundings by scuttling around, which means they can navigate even in the dark.

The animals that hunt them, on the other hand, have forward-facing eyes. Their breadth of vision is limited but their acuity is much higher. This focus allows them to spot and lock on to their prey from much further away.

I note that my eyes are on the front of my head. Does that make me a hunter? 

And when we design, which way are our eyes pointing? Are we focused on a pre-defined target or are we continually scanning the landscape to build up a picture?

For the regenerative designer, seeing is much more akin to the latter: building up a picture of the system we are in by continually exploring it. Building our interconnection with place. Searching for symbiosis we can unlock. Looking for emergent patterns we can enable. Then we can know how to act, even without being able to see straight forward.

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Visions that abstract us/ visions that ground us

Many vision statements float in the abstract. To be a global leader… To minimise store-to-door time… They sound clear, but they ignore the ecology and community that make the work possible. At best, such visions are inert to these realities. At worst, they succeed only at the cost of them.

A regenerative vision is rooted in place — in ecosystem and community. It sees the thriving of that place as central to success. So that our activity enhances this and the other places it touches. Perhaps, even, that this place would miss us if we were gone.

So rather than a mission statement that puts you anywhere and serves nowhere, see what happens when you serve somewhere.

Related tools > Continuous Place-Based Design

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Get on the ground and start moving around

In the early days of the internet, you had to know a website’s URL in order to visit it. 

Companies like Yahoo! set themselves up as way-finders. Visit their site and you could find links to popular places on the web. All organised under headings like a giant directory. 

And then a little company called Google came along and started building its own map of the web, based on exploration. Its bots would crawl the web, visit each website one at a time, figure out what it was about, and then follow the links from there. Which connections are strong? Which are weak?  Which way does the traffic flow?

This is a very different approach to knowledge gathering. Not based on a top-down hierarchy but on-the-ground mapping based on simple questions. 

What is here, what is happening, which ways are things going? 

With Google’s tool, all you had to do was search — they had the map, and it was a much better representation than Yahoo’s top-down approach.

Of course, who owns the map, and what they use it to do, are important questions too. 

But the underlying premise remains, if we want to really understand a situation, then get on the ground and start moving around. 

Related tools
>Continuous Place-Based Design
>Systems Survey

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Teaching theory versus the inconveniences of reality

Theory is abstraction. It is an understanding that is distilled of the inconveniences of reality to allow us to make predictions about that reality. 

Most engineering degrees start with the theory. Vast columns of theories stacked one on top of each other in piles called things like

Mechanics 1

Mechanics 2

Mechanics 3

And then at some point in that journey we ask students to apply that theory in a real world context. 

What if we flipped that model?

Start with observation — the opposite of abstraction. Discover the inconveniences of reality to allow us to find out how the world actually works. 

Observation 1

Observation 2

Observation 3

Of course that leads to an equally lopsided model, uninformed by the telesecoped sum of thinking available to theoretician.

Of course, the answer lies some where in the middle, sprinkled with a fair dose of application. 

Observe

Theorise

Apply

Observe 

Theorise

Apply

Etc 

It is surprising how radical this suggestion is.

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Pattern book field notes – action learning and continuous place-based design

The Pattern Book for Regenerative Design is propped against a sign saying keep off the grass. In the backdrop is the quad of a Cambridge college

This week I took my copy of the Pattern Book to Cambridge. (Its second visit: in July I dropped it — and my laptop — in a puddle. Both recovered, and this time was less eventful.)

I was there to deliver my annual September workshop for the new cohort of students on the Sustainability Leadership for the Built Environment (SLBE) masters at the Cambridge Institute for Sustainability Leadership. Two Pattern Book entries featured strongly.

Continuous place-based design

The workshop was called Design your learning process. We began by asking: what is design? I asked students to sketch a diagram of design as they see it.

This is central to the Constructivist method: start where the learner is, then connect new concepts to what they already know.

After sharing diagrams, I introduced a series of design models, each adding a new dimension, until we reached the Continuous Place-Based Design motif. At each stage, I pointed to overlaps with the students’ diagrams.

The point isn’t to treat any model as a strict procedure, but to use it as something to compare with reality — and then think how we might shift that reality for the better.

Action learning

From there, we turned to the idea that continuous place-based design is really a learning process. Which led naturally to the Action Learning motif.

It’s easy to be passive in learning. The real value comes when we apply theory to practice and then reflect on the results. The Pattern Book entry for action learning even includes a script for running these conversations with colleagues.

This month, I’ve been in workshops on live infrastructure projects where the same theme has surfaced again: organisations struggling to learn from mistakes. Not lessons learned, but lessons lost. For me this underlines that action learning isn’t just a training method — it’s a principle for working in complex systems.

—

It is such a pleasure to teach on this course — this is the start of my eighth cohort! Many graduates are readers here, so if that’s you: thank you for sticking with me all these years.

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Learning as a design process

Diagram showing the cycle of Continuous Place-Based Design: Observe, Brief, Ideas, Make & Test — all centred around Place.

In a flip of yesterday’s post — if design can be a learning process, then learning can be a design process too.

What would it look like to approach learning the way we approach design?

Design begins with intention. It asks: how do I take an existing situation and make it better? That invites us to name where we are now — and to define what better might mean for us.

Design also embraces divergence. In a learning context, that could mean exploring unexpected sources, challenging the materials in front of us, or inventing new ways to engage.

Design gives a different meaning to testing. Not testing to see if I made a grade, but testing to see if I fulfilled the brief. 

And design invites us to keep coming back to the brief and ask how could the brief be improved.

By designing our learning we have the potential to not just passively follow a learning process but to create one that more intentionally meets our needs. 

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Design as a learning process

Many projects treat design as a problem with a fixed answer. But what if we treated design as learning journey?

In a complex world, design needs to be a responsive process. This means observing, setting intentions, developing ideas, testing them and seeing what happens. With each iteration of this process we get a better understanding of how the system responds to our thinking — and how our thinking needs to respond to the system.



  • This mindset encourages us to:
  • Respect complexity
  • Work iteratively
  • See value not in a single deliverable, but in insight that accrues over time

It’s hard to argue with that. And yet many design processes are linear and short-term.

But just think about what long-term value could be unlocked by shifting from merely delivering an answer toward building understanding.

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Consult your hopes and dreams — part of what a place is trying to do

The first stage in continuous place-based design is observation. It is a beginning that says before we do anything different here we need to try and understand this place. 

The aim of this phase is to gather as much data and wisdom as we can before proposing changes. That data can be physical, cultural or even intangible — anything that helps us to notice what makes a place distinct, what gives it its feel. 

One of the data sets I think is often overlooked — but vital — is hopes and dreams.

These are easy to dismiss as not ‘real’ but I see them as very real. Our hopes are distant but visible from where we are now — rooted both in the present and in the future. In the language of the Three Horizons Model, they belong in Horizon Three: an outline of what we see from here in the future. 

Since the design process spans the present and the future, hopes and dreams are a vital link.

The hopes and dreams of the people that live or regularly used in a space are founded in their complex interaction with that place. So asking simple questions like: 

What is your hope for this place?
What do you dream I could become?

…can a great deal about the current lie of the land and its future potential. 

One the questions we ask in the Systems Survey motif (see the Pattern Book) is ‘what is this place trying to do?’

Hopes and dreams are part of that answer. They are usually motivating — either towards one place or away from another. They inject energy into certain courses of action over others. And so that are an important clue as to what patterns are already unfolding here or are likely to in the future.

So pay attention to hopes and dreams as well as the things you can physically observe. These dreams may already be shaping the path that this place is taking.

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Short-Term Design from Anywhere

What might a design process might look like if its goal were the opposite of enabling humans and the living world to survive, thrive and co-evolve? The Pattern Book calls such an approach ‘Short-term Design from Anywhere’.

It might look like parachuting into a place we know nothing about and immediately starting to develop ideas. It might mean designing without ever visiting the site — relying instead on drawings, Google Earth and reports. It could mean defining success in ways that have nothing to do with the community or ecosystem of that place. It might not even consider the ecosystem at all.

Short-Term Design from Anywhere is about importing ideas from elsewhere — assuming that what worked well in one place will work just as well in another. It prefers one-size-fits-all solutions that seem economically efficient but fail to account for the cost of misalignment at a local level. This approach to design typically involves no local participation, no engagement, and no involvement — not in the design, not in construction, nor in long-term operation. It requires no commitment to place, no exposure to long term risks. It’s perfect for prioritising early return on investment for external stakeholders with no stake in the place itself.

Most of all, Short-Term Design from Anywhere assumes everything will work perfectly the first time. It does not anticipate learning, adaptation, or unintended consequences. And it rarely includes designers who stick around to find out what actually happens.

Overall, Short-Term Design from Anywhere doesn’t sound like a great approach. Fortunately, there’s another way—one that works with place rather than against it: Continuous Place-Based Design.

This post is an extract from the Motif Library in the Pattern Book for Regenerative Design. 

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What if we got all the designers together who ever designed a place?

Imagine gathering every designer who has ever shaped a single street for a retrospective design crit?

Every building — from the latest new-build to the medieval cottage still standing.

The streets, the services, the flood defences.

All the engineers (and other humans) who made all the decisions.

What would they discover about their design choices?

What would they regret?

Which decisions would they make again?

What patterns of place might emerge — the things that repeatedly work (or fail), whether we choose to notice or not?

What changes might they observe?

How differently would the place sound to different generations of designer?

And how would they all arrive?

It feels like engineers (and other humans) are constantly redesigning places.

But how do we take the long view?

How do we learn from what has worked — and what hasn’t — over time?

So that from generation to generation, we build a progression of holistic wisdom, not just another round of reinvention.