The art of a contrived space

The United States has its own history of institutionalized racial segregation, but it never saw a system as complex and deliberately executed as apartheid in South Africa. A country that was torn apart by the separation of arbitrary racial categories is still grappling with the aftereffects of a regime that ended less than 30 years ago. As apartheid was coming to an end, politicians, planners, and architects in South Africa began to think about how to build enough housing for millions of people who had been displaced. Questions about where to put houses, what the standard of housing should be, and who should be responsible for their construction were all aspects that had to be considered as the government engaged in this massive undertaking.
Within our first week in Johannesburg, we visited some of the spaces that were constructed after 1991 with the intention of accommodating those who had been forcibly removed from cities. Cosmo City, a housing project that was launched and completed within a decade, is a neighborhood which contains houses that are being subsidized in varying amounts by the government. This was intended to be a place where residents of multiple income levels could be integrated, but each type of housing is still separated by economic class within the community’s borders. It is situated rather far from Johannesburg proper, making it feel isolated and alienated from the rest of the city. But what struck me most about Cosmo City as I stood on a sort of public courtyard overlooking the rows and rows of houses was how artificial it all felt.
When the Reconstruction and Development Programme (RDP) builds houses, they all look the same. If you multiply that by several thousand, you end up with something that looks calculated and forced. This was quite obviously not an area that grew organically and over time; rather, it was easy to see how a team of architects could have sat down and planned everything out meticulously, down to the street names which all share a common theme. The schools, playgrounds, green space, roads, churches—everything, was premeditated.   
Cosmo City wouldn’t be the first time we visited a location that felt completely contrived to me. Within the next week, we were standing in a place called Melrose Arch, a suburban gated community that was built to act as a city without the dangers associated with being in the actual city. This was even more difficult for me to conceptualize as a real place. Whereas Cosmo City seemed to project an image of a lower- to middle-class haven in my eyes, Melrose Arch appeared to be an extremely wealthy utopia with an exclusively elite population. The level of control here bordered on complete sterility: the streets were cleaner than any I had seen in Johannesburg, and the insides of buildings were immaculate. Huge TV screens set up outside were showing rugby games to no audience, and security cameras watched over most street corners as people rushed by toward their destinations. The warmth that radiated from residents in the townships we had visited was nowhere to be found here; this was much more reminiscent of the cold attitudes that you would find in any American city.

One of the central themes of our Dialogue is the impact of physical space on the people who inhabit it, and Cosmo City and Melrose Arch offered a lot to think about in that regard. Artificially created space in Johannesburg is an experiment, as are new solutions for housing shortages and unemployment. This is a fascinating time to be studying what works and what doesn’t in South African cities as the country settles in to its newfound democracy and wrestles with how to effectively provide housing for all its citizens.   

Caroline Panchelli

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