Brothers and sisters in cycling, you will find the first five minutes and twenty seconds of this clip unbearable to watch, an affront to all thinking men! Do-gooder types flag petty ideas for activating the ground planes beneath high rise blocks of flats, with everything from disco balls, to weed farms, to mutes in furry suits stamping smiles on kids’ foreheads. All they are doing, you will realize, is stretching out a vision of bike paths to the length of a documentary film, for it is only after the grand bike path plan is revealed (5.20), that one can imagine themselves living in one of these council blocks—well, maybe not living. Let us contemplate visiting, or “artfully slumming”, or dropping by to be photographed putting bike stamps on kids’ foreheads. I digress yet again.
To my mind, bike paths were the one thing Corb forgot. Give bike paths precedence, and the Modernist experiment could in fact be restarted—though perhaps not made out of pebble-crete panels, next time around.