Portland's first streetcars made in USA. Courtesy United Streetcar

Skoda is a legendary firm dating from 1859 that has made weapons, brewing equipment, bridge parts, airplanes, and automobiles (now a separate division owned by Volkswagen).  Today the Czech company makes steam turbines and condensers, but the few Americans who are aware of Skoda probably know the company because of its transit products.  Eyes popped in 2001 when the Portland Streetcar opened, powered by shiny, sleek, and quiet Skoda T-10 tram cars. 

Portland wanted a modern system like those in Istanbul, Prague, Helsinki and so many other Continental cities, but all the railcars used in those places were built in Europe.  The Buy America Act says, “All of the components of the [manufactured] product must be of U.S. origin” (661.5), except for buses and other rolling stock “if the cost of components produced in the United States is more than 60 percent of the cost of all components and final assembly takes place in the United States” (661.11). 

The German company Siemens Mobility has a plant in California to make light rail vehicles for the American market because of Buy America, but they do not make streetcars.  The Gomaco Trolley Company in Iowa makes heritage (reproduction) cars, but no one in the United States was building modern cars.  Portland requested, and FTA granted a waiver for non-availability and like so many Czech exports before—composer Antonin Dvorak, Pilsner Urquell beer, Semtex plastic explosives—Skoda came to America.

Twenty miles outside Portland in Clackamas, Oregon, Chandra Brown, vice president of Oregon Iron Works was surprised by the news. “I heard there were no modern streetcars being built in the United States and I thought this was ridiculous. Streetcars were invented here.  I thought: we could build this.”   In 2005 Oregon Iron Works decided to look into it. 

Oregon Iron Works is a diverse company, building boats, bridges, space launch complexes, and hydroelectric machinery, among other things, but is always looking for new opportunities, the next generation of products.  Renewable energy is a new product market and wave energy devices, for instance, are one product OIW is looking into; streetcar too fits into that green revolution in manufacturing.

It can be difficult for a foreign manufacturer to break into the American transit market; because of Buy America the transition is most effective with a U.S. manufacturing plant like Siemens’ noted above or Canadian New Flyer’s bus factory in Minnesota.  By teaming up with an established American company, Skoda could eliminate headaches, expenses, and a steep learning curve.  For their part, OIW had the capabilities to build a streetcar, but not to design one. 

Through a new subsidiary called United Streetcar, OIW inked a deal with Skoda whereby the Czech company licensed its already well-known—“beloved” is Chandra Brown’s word for it—streetcar design to United Streetcar but the Americans would use the Skoda-built propulsion system.  This way the streetcar meets Buy America and Skoda Electric sells more units. 

Secretary of Transportation Ray LaHood was on hand for the unveiling of the first car in Portland on July 1, 2009, a red and blue number that is indistinguishable to the average passenger from the wholly Czech-made predecessors (testing continued until October when the car went in active service).  In fact, it is quite different because of the supply chain. The first car was a prototype, an imperfect word because it was delivered and used rather than relegated to a showroom somewhere.  But it was an experiment. 

The frame, the boggie, the bodies, and the roof were made by United Streetcar, and they handle final assembly as well.  The propulsion system comes from the Czech Republic, but because of Buy America “most of the [other] components had to be replaced with American-made components so we were really building a new industry,” Ms. Brown says.  “Those products were not here.  This is a whole new product line for tons of other companies across the U.S.”  In the past, seats might have come from European companies, but that would not work now.  United Streetcar had to find American suppliers to send seats, windshield wipers, headlight covers, handrails, etc. 

The rise of United Streetcar means the U.S. market will be seeing more modern streetcars.  “People are so excited to see a [modern] streetcar built in the U.S.” says Ms. Brown.  “We have cities coming out to see the factory in addition to going to Portland to see them in operation.”  Portland is expanding its streetcar service with an Eastside loop in the works.  United Streetcar has an order for six cars for that portion and is building seven units for the Westside loop. They also won an RFP for seven streetcars for Tucson, “and we are looking to Charlotte, Miami, and others for selling cars.” 

The maiden voyage of that first modern American streetcar is a homecoming of sorts.  Unlike the automobile, the streetcar is an American invention.  The prodigal son returns and as the market expands, we can expect modern streetcars to be coming home to places it has never been before.

Shelters on the Sprinter Line in Charlotte are unique identifiers but also part of the urban fabric. Photo courtesy of CATS.

Art has historically been public, civic – both a product of and contributor to collective identity.  From Egyptian glyphs to idealized Greek athletes, from Roman triumphal arches to intricate altar pieces, art condescends to tell us something about who we are, where we are, and how we relate to others both within and beyond our own society.  Since the Renaissance, however, the locus of art and its relationship to its audience has shifted to more private arenas.  Frescoes and grandiose statues in the public eye have been replaced in critical art creation by the painted canvas and bourgeois sculpture in private collections, galleries, and museums.  Art and all things cultural seem to have become matters of personal evaluation and interpretation. 

This is exactly the condition to which the minimalist art of the 1960s and performance pieces of the 70s responded, the latter especially aiming to restore art’s role in public life.  In the past decade or so, as Americans have begun to return to urban centers, cities across the country have begun to emphasize the arts and undertaken high profile public art projects as civic amenities and marketing tools. 

This bodes well for programs that incorporate public art into transit projects.  The seemingly incongruous spheres of transportation and art find harmony in transit that is unattainable on highways.  A person waiting for transit has the luxury of being able to take in and engage her surroundings; a person caught in traffic really ought to be watching the vehicle ahead. 

The allocation of transportation funds to art in transit programs is justified by the mutualistic art-transit relationship and the benefits it conveys to cities.  In a funding environment that focuses on cost-effectiveness and ridership, art-in-transit projects represent a small but significant departure into a realm less tangible.  It is a realm that emphasizes narrative, identity, and relationship. 

The Federal Transit Administration (FTA) provides funding and guidance for including art in transit projects.  While artist selection and site treatments are left to the discretion of the local implementing agency, the FTA recommends that a defensible selection process be employed that ensures equal opportunity is granted to all applying artists or teams of artists.  Moreover, the selection of the artist must be made by a committee of qualified art and design professionals with the participation of the local community.  

For proposed artworks to be funded, the FTA emphasize the following criteria: quality of art or design; the impact on transit patrons; a substantive and/or formal relationship to the site and surrounding area; a fitting and safe scale suitable for the site; the use of durable materials; resistance to vandalism; and ease of maintenance.  

In addition to the FTA program, many cities and counties also have Percent-for-Art programs established by ordinance that call for one percent of the cost of public building projects to be allocated to the provision of public art.  Transit properties can coordinate with these entities to implement arts projects separate from or in conjunction with FTA.  

One of artist Pablo Tauler's 11 custom shelters in downtown Philadelphia.

Philadelphia adopted the first municipal Percent for Art ordinance in the country in 1959.  One of the over 200 art projects funded by the Percent for Art program since its inception is found in the heart of the city on Chestnut Street.  The broad, bustling sidewalks of this downtown thoroughfare are lined with custom bus shelters of stainless steel and tinted glass.  Each shelter has a unique design that echoes the City’s architecture and history, from colonial motifs to art deco patterns.  Artist Pablo Tauler sought to give the 11 shelters the same dynamic mix of styles as that seen throughout one of the nation’s oldest and most historically significant cities.  

The steel friezes, crowns, and frames and one-inch thick colored glass create a stimulating visual environment and are intended to ensure the longevity of the City’s investment.  The materials were selected to stand up to the elements and potential vandalism without creating a maintenance nightmare.  However, if any damage were sustained – a shattered pane of glass, for instance – the costs to restore the shelter would likely be significantly higher than a similar repair on a stock shelter.  The shelters were installed in 2000 as part of the City’s effort to revitalize Chestnut Street.  

Susan Harbage Page created these shelters for Charlotte. Clockwise from top left: Married Couple, Baby Twins, Morgan School, and Girl in Polka Dots. Photos by Architectural photographer JoAnn Sieburg-Baker.

In Charlotte’s Cherry neighborhood, Susan Harbage Page created custom bus shelters that act as an archive of community history.  Cherry is an historically African-American neighborhood adjacent to Uptown’s Second Ward.  Page collaborated with the Cherry Community Center and collected photographs from local residents to incorporate into the shelter design.  Five unique shelters were created with black and white photographs printed on the large panes that form the backs of the shelters.  The pictures portray scenes of community life, family ties, and educational achievement and reflect the sentiments of local residents about their neighborhood.  

The shelters were installed in 2008, about the same time that a prominent mixed-use redevelopment project called Metropolitan Midtown was completed.  The juxtaposition of the historic-feeling photos and the cold, pristine gleam of Metropolitan gives added weight to the shelters’ significance in the community.  They serve as a reminder to transit patrons and other passersby of the origins of this community, a sort of spiritual tie to the history and identity of the place that transcends the looming changes to be wrought by redevelopment.   The title of the series emblazoned on each shelter reinforces this theme: “Coming Home to Cherry.” 

Also in Charlotte, along the LYNX Blue Line light rail, the approach to Scaleybark Station feature conspicuous sculptural works that elicit an opinion from everyone who travels there.  A series of discs, 18 feet in diameter, stand upright on either side of the tracks that run in the median of South Boulevard.  Their situation seems precarious as the discs appear set to roll away, or be blown over by a gust of wind, or simply crumble since they look like they are made from the surrounding earth.  In fact they are made of steel and concrete (and Carolina clay) and weigh 11 tons each.  They are designed to withstand the elements, despite their fragile appearance. 

The artist, Thomas Sayre, intended the sculptures to resemble harrow discs, agricultural implements towed behind a plow to cultivate the soil.  The piece is called “Furrow” and was completed in 2007 as part of the light rail construction, paid for in part by Federal Transit Administration funds.  They allude not only to an agricultural past but to the rhythm and character of the natural environment.  Shadows shift on the ground and on the curves of the convex discs as the day wears on and it is hard not to feel the dirt in your hands as you study the texture of their surfaces. 

While “Furrow” is not universally popular, it is universally recognized in Charlotte.  One of its great successes is that it is instantly identifiable, giving the area a landmark and promoting a sense of place.  Equally admirable is the fact that the piece almost compels anyone who sees it to explore the significance of these strange discs and thereby puts them in touch with the roots of the area.  

The examples above demonstrate that art and transit share something deeply significant in common that makes them mutually supportive: they are both generally and most naturally public in their orientation.  This would seem axiomatic for transit, but if the concept is expanded to include transportation as a whole, greater exploration is required.  

For the motorist, gently nestled in her auto-cocoon, transport seems private, at least in the same way that an office or a living room is private, visible from the outside but only available to an accepted, intended few.  The vehicle, however, occupies an explicitly public space, and the movement of people and goods has always taken place in such collective venues.  Likewise, art is often considered to be private, with each individual brining a unique interpretation to a given piece. But as was noted at the outset of this article, art has a longer history in streets and squares than in contemplative museums and galleries.  

A discussion of the philosophies and theories that impact evolving artistic conditions and reactions would probably have little practical relevance to daily operations in the transit industry.  However, the notion that art and transportation share a common public character is pertinent, and the role that they play in public life is influenced by industry practices.  

As transit and public space become increasingly important in daily urban American life, transit properties will have a significant impact on both.  Beyond providing a service to move people from place to place, transit formally and culturally shapes those places.  The industry has the opportunity and the fiscal capacity through art in transit and other public art programs to do so in a way that is relevant and constructive to the community.

Alex Bell earned a bachelor’s degree in Art History and a master’s in Urban Planning.  He is a transportation planner for Renaissance Planning Group.

It has long been widely recognized by many city planners, urban designers, architects, landscape architects, and historic preservationists, that, among many other influences, a viable community has a balanced relationship between building mass and open space that gives it a sense of compactness, spatial definition, and is in human scale.

A typical figure-ground.

This concern is even more relevant presently, where the concept of transit-oriented-development, is receiving more currency in the light of increased public dissatisfaction with characterless, auto-oriented, suburban sprawl, and the recognition that transportation choices and land use choices are inextricably intertwined.  This put transportation planners and urban designers at the same table and figure-ground is a mutually important working concept at this table.

Simply, a figure-ground, sometimes referred to as figure-field, it is a diagrammatic abstraction of the footprint of the build form of an area, building footprints shown in black for instance, and remaining open spaces in white.  It is generally devoid of other detail that can confuse or obscure the spatial nature being examined.

The quality of the physical form and pattern of a community is influenced by the ratio of building mass (forms) and voids (open spaces). When the ratio of building mass is high in relation to exterior space, spatial continuity in the form of building mass and clearly defined “walls”, well defined linkages, and articulated public and private spaces, are possible. These are the characteristics of memorable places with vibrant, mixed-use activity that are attractive to people.

When the ratio of building coverage is low and disconnected in relation to that of exterior spaces, there is often little building mass continuity, emphasizing free-standing, disconnected and fragmented buildings.  In between there are undefined voids like surface parking with little spatial definition. Anyone who has ever been unfortunate enough to walk along a major suburban artery knows these conditions of auto-oriented strip development are unfriendly to pedestrians.

The Noli plan.

The employment of a figure-ground diagram has a long history.  Probably one of the most famous uses of the figure-ground as an illustrative tool is the Nolli Map of Rome prepared by Giambattista Nolli in 1748, a portion of which is shown below.  The map shows public and private spaces carved from the mass of building form that is so characteristic of the urban qualities that exemplify Rome.  It has influenced architects and urban designers since.  The figure-ground diagram of the Piazza Del Campo in Siena, Italy also makes clear the distinctive spatial pattern of spaces, narrow network of streets, and fluid geometry, of a typical medieval city.

What a figure-ground is and isn’t.

A figure ground can be a useful analysis tool. One can quickly and unblinkingly assess the potential of a place; does it have the spatial qualities to make it appealing and vital for people and pedestrians – or does it not?

It can also be used as a quick and flexible planning and design tool, allowing one to examine, and verify during the design process, whether the spatial qualities desired are being met or not.  It can be employed in sketch format during design deliberations as shown below, or more formally displayed.  It does not replace intuitive design creativity or solid rational deliberations, but can supplement these skills and bridge differences with a common vocabulary.

A sketch by Gary Okerlund

It is also a useful communication tool because it can diagrammatically show the importance of spatial form and space in any proposal that is generally understandable to the public.

To illustrate, the following example shows an air-photo of an underdeveloped, auto-oriented, urban corridor, a figure-ground of its existing pattern, a figure-ground proposal that encourages higher densities, building continuity, pedestrian linkages, and responds with densities that can support transit.

A figure-ground is, however, only one tool in the arsenal of planning and design and there are some limitations.  It does not, for instance, replace a fully developed plan, thus orientation can be problematical; it also does not express the influence of building heights and topography well, nor articulate differing uses and activities.  Figure-ground does not directly reflect the influences of transportation choices and the pedestrian environment, nor reflect the quality of design that is so important to support vibrant communities. It should be used in conjunction with many other tools such as floor area ratio (FAR), zoning, form-based zoning, density and ridership projections, etc. But figure-ground can be very useful as a supplemental ”shorthand” working tool, especially for demonstrating in public meetings or to elected officials how new development will fit in the built environment.

A figure-ground diagram can highlight positive visual characteristics, and conversely those that are negative in a way that can predict the quality of the environment being transformed. It can also be a useful tool to help put land use planners, designers, and transportation planners on the same page.