Posts Tagged ‘ city ’

A fabrication lab in Japan hopes to rejuvenate the local cedar industry

Oguni Cedar

Source: A fabrication lab in Japan hopes to rejuvenate the local cedar industry

Going Back to the Roots With Production in Rural Japan — Pop-Up City

Photo by Azusa Shigenobu

In Kumamoto Prefecture, just north of Mount Aso and its magnificent caldera, lies the town of Minami-Oguni. What brought a fab lab, something that is usually found in cities, to this little town?

Source: Going Back to the Roots With Production in Rural Japan — Pop-Up City

MOMENT Magazine

MOMENT is a trans-local magazine for people exploring the future of cities.

Welcome to MOMENT: a Translocal Magazine
Today we live in a world where an unprecedented amount of information is shared and exchanged. Wherever you are, a single click can deliver you almost anything, and people who have never met can find each other, regardless of what distance separates them.

However, in exchange for these conveniences, we now find ourselves living in virtual villages, which are social enclaves where people share the same opinion. And the chasms between the countless “villages” that exist today are wider and deeper than ever before.

At one time the Internet promised to free us from the familiar surroundings of our small towns and local communities, but decades later we have ended up back where we started, in these strange but comfortable virtual villages where we are not physically local to each other but nevertheless live sheltered lives online and off. What are we to do now? Attempt once again to build another utopian commune?

Luckily, we have culture, technology, and other assets in hand. What we need to gain is perhaps a new point of view on how these assets could help us imagine and act beyond the claustrophobic localism that defines online life today.

In MOMENT, we call this ‘trans-local’. To be trans-local is to be deeply connected to a community close at hand while being still invested in what’s happening beyond the horizon. For the trans-localist there is not a single “local” that is pitted against all others, but a network of overlapping local communities that each of us participates in.

By ‘local’, we mean the town you live in or the workplace or school you commute to every day; It could be the community to which you belong, whether it’s one centered around hobbies, your
profession, or your industry. The trans-localist is distinguished by the locales they participate in, but not defined by them. They appreciate the local, but are not afraid of other locales, or the unknown. Like a sailor connecting one port to another, the trans-localist weaves meaning by exploring new horizons and contexts.

On our own, we can only induce a very tiny shift. But we’re connected to others, and as we change we make that change visible to those around us. What you do helps your neighbor decide what they might do, and what they do helps their neighbor make decisions. In this way, your actions make ripples which eventually will turn into a great wave.

MOMENT wishes to be a magazine for people who embody the trans-local. By the time you have read through, you will feel more hopeful: there are other people around the world who are also working in small communities, experiencing the same struggles and triumphs as you. And hopefully, one day, we will create momentum together.

June 2019 — Ryo Shirai

Source: MOMENT Magazine

What Would Really Happen if a Nuclear Weapon Exploded in a Major City?

Kurzgesagt has partnered with the Red Cross and their “no to nukes” initiative to depict what it would be like if a nuclear weapon detonated in a major city. I’m not going to lie to you here, this is a diffic

Source: What Would Really Happen if a Nuclear Weapon Exploded in a Major City?


Very pleased to announce that Anne Boyer’s Money City Sick as Fuck is available for pre-order. Selected from a sequence of 100 poems written on a long day in the summer of 2013, Money City imagines writing a poem “in a confederacy of exception […] called ‘wages for tenderness and nothing else'”. Situated between Pompeii and Olympus, at “Texaco in ruins” or the amusement park, in a bar called Lethe, at the saddest prom in history, taking “every odd route”, these poems passionately survey and survive the streets and jails of the modern-day polis,”sunbathing in Atlantis”, oracles IRL.

The peak consequence —

this port

of pleasure —

we will

or will not

realize —



Available for pre-order here > Source: MATERIALS

“City Visions” by Emma Lazarus

City Visions


Emma Lazarus



As the blind Milton’s memory of light,

The deaf Beethoven’s phantasy of tone,

Wrought joys for them surpassing all things known

In our restricted sphere of sound and sight,—

So while the glaring streets of brick and stone

Vex with heat, noise, and dust from morn till night,

I will give rein to Fancy, taking flight

From dismal now and here, and dwell alone

With new-enfranchised senses. All day long,

Think ye ’t is I, who sit ’twixt darkened walls,

While ye chase beauty over land and sea?

Uplift on wings of some rare poet’s song,

Where the wide billow laughs and leaps and falls,

I soar cloud-high, free as the winds are free.




Who grasps the substance? who ’mid shadows strays?

He who within some dark-bright wood reclines,

’Twixt sleep and waking, where the needled pines

Have cushioned all his couch with soft brown sprays?

He notes not how the living water shines,

Trembling along the cliff, a flickering haze,

Brimming a wine-bright pool, nor lifts his gaze

To read the ancient wonders and the signs.

Does he possess the actual, or do I,

Who paint on air more than his sense receives,

The glittering pine-tufts with closed eyes behold,

Breathe the strong resinous perfume, see the sky

Quiver like azure flame between the leaves,

And open unseen gates with key of gold?

Source: “City Visions” by Emma Lazarus

Jane Jacobs’s Street Smarts | The New Yorker


Jacobs, in 1969: an ordinary mom who set out to protect the neighborhood. PHOTOGRAPH BY ELLIOTT ERWITT / MAGNUM AND JOHN J. BURNS LIBRARY, BOSTON COLLEGE

Jane Jacobs’s Street Smarts | The New Yorker

sometimes we resist by stephen collis |cascadia review

sometimes we resist

by stephen collis


I was      in a park

I could not see
Global capitalism

Its     dinosaur bones
Covered in chrome 

I saw      trees
Their leaves
Turning yellow and
Golden brown

I saw the harbour
And the city set
Down below 
The mountain

A place you’d descend to
Or ascend from

I asked someone
How do we resist?

Consider the trees
Bending in the wind
Their root grip
Deep in the land

Consider the mountain
That does not drift
A little east or west
North or south

But remains a marker
We chart day’s circuits round

I asked
What if they come
With saw teeth
For the trees

With horizontal 
Directional drilling
For pipelines through
Mountain’s immobile heart?

And one there said
Sometimes the voice
Sometimes the voices
Tear teeth from saw’s blades

Sometimes a body
Sometimes all our bodies
Blunt the bits of drills
Dull dollar’s desire

Someone said
Someone just like
You or me

Sometimes we resist

Sometimes we win



sometimes we resist.

*: On Poetry, #10: All of a sudden the city on fire

4. What they will say  is yours 

Is your body, are your hours, are your efforts, your own? Or does the narrow world say that the only thing left for you is your pain? It is easy to feel like your time belongs to your employers and your body to men or the family or the state but that your pain is yours entirely, that your struggle is a field you cultivate yourself, a thorny one of your-own-damn-fault. This is their other weapon: to make the opposite of what is true seem true.  But what is actually true is that in the world as it is now pain is the one thing we can be certain we are never in alone.

5. Another kind of poem  

The narrow world would have women and other people make people and care for them just to donate them as brutal, sensate, pained material of the world in this arrangement. It would ask us to gestate food for its nightmare. It would ask us to reproduce, with our love, fodder with a pain scale, then surplus, fodder, too, and only what can feel the pain exacted upon it.  But when we feed & grow & tend each other it is not to feed & grow & tend the machinery of expansionist death. There are reasonable things we can do to refuse this.  That is another kind of poem.

*: On Poetry, #10: All of a sudden the city on fire.

Lisa Robertson: Theory, A City | Lemon Hound

Lisa Robertson: Theory, A City | Lemon Hound.