Latest news with #urbanplanner
CBC
12-08-2025
- Business
- CBC
Major Rothesay development moves forward with amendments to mitigate impacts
Rothesay council is giving near unanimous approval to a large commercial and residential project that has seen pushback from some of the town's residents. The approved proposal is for a mixed-use development that would add roughly 1,277 units over 20 years to a commercial and residential area near the highway. The project is by developer Ali Kamkar, who moved to New Brunswick six years ago. Kamkar said his project came from what he calls a need in the area for a better mix of housing. Greg Zwicker, an urban planner speaking on behalf of developer Ali Kamkar, said it was a good decision by the council and said the people behind the project are excited. "There's always going to be some contentious matters and some struggles for the town as we grow," Zwicker said. "We need to bring some new development into the town. So it's a good spot for it. We're excited and it's going to be a great plan eventually ... There's going to be concerns and construction and noise for a few years. We'll do our best to control and monitor that as we go along." The development by Landmark 661 Ltd. will include a mix of commercial businesses and apartment buildings, townhouses and single-family homes. It will happen in five phases, starting with six, four-storey apartment buildings with 427 residential units. It will be on what is currently a wooded area at the corner of Millennium and Campbell drives near the Atlantic Superstore and Kent Building Supplies store. Project moves forward with amendments The site is also near some residential neighbourhoods including one on Wedgewood Drive. Some residents of the area oppose the project saying the growth would be too large over too short a period for the town of about 12,000. Residents are also concerned about impacts from tree clearing and traffic increases to their neighbourhoods. Many residents near the area also use groundwater — accessed through wells — as their source of potable water, according to some of the numerous letters submitted to the town's council. The agreement for the project to move forward includes new provisions so that clear cutting of trees is "only done to that which is necessary to facilitate construction of and servicing of the phase under development" said the town's deputy mayor Matt Alexander, reading the added amendments aloud. The town will also zone the connecting area between the proposed neighbourhood and Wedgewood Drive as a "recreation zone," meaning it will be a pedestrian-only connection, to mitigate potential for increased vehicle traffic in the neighbourhood. A third amendment asks the developer to do a groundwater assessment or create a water contingency plan before the first phase of construction begins. The town's mayor, Nancy Grant, who didn't vote, praised the amendments brought forward by the deputy mayor. Grant said the development will be a place for "all ages and stages [of life]" by being a walkable neighbourhood near services and businesses, which she said will have an effect on the community's health. "I particularly like the opportunity for 'aging in place' that will be there and all the downstream positive benefits that will have on health-care system," Grant said. "The increase in the tax base will provide for increased services and better services for the whole community." One councillor, Dave Brown, opposed the development, saying the project would bring too much growth too quickly. The new units, he said, could increase the population of the town of about 12,000 by roughly an additional 3,000 people. "I mean it's 1,277 units ... that's almost 25 per cent of the people around here right now in one spot," Brown said. "I don't feel this is something I am going to support." Residents said they don't feel heard. "It's clearly disheartening," said resident John Dinan. "We were given very short notice for a public hearing back in July and it was quite clear from today that the decision was made without any public input at all." Nick Landry, who has lived in the area for eight years, expressed similar sentiments. Landry, who has experienced flooding due to wetlands near his home on Wedgewood Drive, said he fears the development will make issues worse. Landry said residents feel mischaracterized as anti-development and that he and others appreciate some of the amendments, particularly those relating to ground water. "But we do feel that the scale and scope of the development doesn't fit the town," he said. Another councillor, Don Shea, didn't take part in the vote due to a declared conflict of interest.
The Guardian
14-07-2025
- Politics
- The Guardian
‘People here are as strong as concrete': the stunning architecture of war-torn Kharkiv
When the Derzhprom building erupted on to the Kharkiv skyline in the 1920s, it must have seemed like an impossibly futuristic vision. Standing like a gleaming white concrete castle, it curves around the circular plaza of Freedom Square in the city's centre. Built as the state industry headquarters of what was then the capital of the Ukrainian Soviet Socialist Republic, it looks like a three-dimensional game of Tetris, a mighty nest of chunky oblong forms stacked, rotated and interlocked to form a colossal administrative pile. Striding across three city blocks, and towering almost 60m high, it was the tallest office building in Europe for several years, its humungous floor plates connected high up in the air by thrilling sci-fi skybridges. It was far ahead of its time, prefiguring the brawny brutalist complexes that emerged in western Europe and the US half a century later. 'Derzhprom was conceived as the crown of the city,' says Ievgeniia Gubkina, author of a new architectural guidebook to Kharkiv. 'It was the symbol of the capital as a concrete fortress. And now, during the war, it has become the main symbol of our strength and resistance. That concrete will never fall apart – and we Kharkivites are strong as concrete.' Gubkina, who grew up in Kharkiv, had completed the text for her book just two months before Russia launched its full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022. Trained as an architect and urban planner, she had been leading tours of her home city for 15 years, and imagined the book as a love letter to the place – a love letter that suddenly became a farewell letter, when she relocated to London with her teenage daughter in July that year. The resulting publication is, she says, something of an 'anti-guidebook', given that the UK Foreign Office advice now warns against all travel to the region. Seeing Kharkiv through Gubkina's eyes, in text that combines poignant personal reflection with the analytic rigour of an academic, might be the only way you will get to experience the city for some time. The entries about each building remain unchanged, save for the addition of a few details about how the structures have since been mutilated – the drily written notes only emphasising the stark brutality of Russia's invasion. Located just 18 miles from the Russian border, Kharkiv has seen more than 8,000 of its buildings damaged or destroyed in the last three years, including homes, schools, hospitals and cultural facilities – many of them seemingly targeted for their heritage value and place in Ukrainian national identity. The Derzhprom building, despite being located several miles from the battlefield, was hit by a guided bomb on 28 October 2024. The complex, which was on Unesco's tentative list for world heritage status, had already suffered collateral damage from attacks on Freedom Square, by Russian cruise missile strikes in March 2022 and a kamikaze drone attack in January 2024. But the October strike was from a precisely guided rocket, which destroyed one of the sections of the building, damaging the roof, exterior walls, floor slabs and windows. The choice of target was no accident. Despite being of notionally Russian origin – having been designed in then Leningrad (although by architects who hailed from Ukraine's major port city, Odesa, and Vilnius, in Lithuania) – the Derzhprom building had always symbolised the autonomy of Kharkiv. It was a monument to the roaring 20s in Ukraine's then capital, built at a time when the city was alive with avant-garde writers, composers, artists and architects. It was a golden age, when Kharkiv was one of the most significant industrial, cultural, scientific and educational centres of the USSR, a period that left a lasting, if often overlooked, built legacy. The Railway Workers Palace of Culture is another constructivist gem from the era. Designed by Aleksandr Dmitriev, and built from 1927 to 1932, its gently scalloped facade has an elegant art deco air, like a giant accordion being stretched open. It housed a huge concert hall, library, exhibition spaces and dance hall, which hosted dozens of amateur art, music and dance clubs, where railway workers and their families could develop their talents and spend time together. Still in the ownership of the railway company, it was recently restored, and most of its original interiors had remained intact. That is, until March 2022, when a Russian missile attack destroyed most of its windows. A second strike in August that year caused further structural damage, leading to the collapse of the concert hall ceiling, and the loss of most of the interiors to fire. Gubkina's book doesn't dwell on the destruction. 'I was so tired of the stereotypes,' she says. 'People only see us connected with rubble and war. Yes, Russia has destroyed a lot, but my mission is to show what a rich and resilient place Kharkiv is.' The sheer variety of riches makes the book a visual treat, even from the armchair. Marvel at the gilded onion domes of the Assumption Cathedral, or the expressionist granite torsos that hold up the Kupetskyi bank and hotel. Gawp at the daring barrel-vaulted roof of the 1960s Ukraina cinema and concert hall, or the cantilevered limestone forms of the brutalist state opera and ballet theatre – a herculean construction project, begun in 1967 and only completed in 1991. It is one of the few venues in the city that has remained operational while under siege, given that one of its auditoriums is essentially housed in an underground bunker. 'It sometimes feels surreal that you can visit a beautiful piano jazz concert in the middle of war,' says Gubkina. 'But that's what gives us hope.' Other buildings haven't been so lucky. The scale of devastation is brought home in a powerful series of photographs, taken by Pavlo Dorohoi in March 2022, inserted at the beginning of the book. The architectural photographer had been commissioned to shoot a number of sites for the publication, but unexpectedly found himself reporting from the frontline of a war zone, before international press photographers had made it there. One image shows the bombed-out courtyard of the Palace of Labour, originally built in 1916 as the House of Rossiya Insurance Company, but barely occupied before the Bolshevik revolution. 'It is ironic that the building is named after Russia,' says Gubkina, 'and Russia decided to destroy it.' She returned there last summer, for the first time since the invasion began. 'It was the first moment when I really started crying in Kharkiv. I remembered the complex as a very vibrant place from my childhood, with courtyards full of cafes. Now it was a ruined shell.' Gubkina winces when I raise the talk of reconstruction plans. In April 2022, just a couple of months after the first missiles were launched, Norman Foster offered his services to the mayor of Kharkiv. The architect lord had been working on several projects in Russia up until the invasion, but he quickly severed ties, and hastily launched his Manifesto for Kharkiv that pledged to 'assemble the best minds in the world' to tackle the 'rebirth' of the city. The ensuing masterplan, published by the Norman Foster Foundation in December 2023, called for 'a new iconic architectural landmark' as well as 'an iconic, revolutionary mixed-use neighbourhood, dedicated to promoting scientific and technological innovation'. Claims of local engagement and public consultation have been somewhat undermined by the fact that detailed information about the masterplan is only available in English – a language that only a small proportion of the Ukrainian population can understand. 'I think it is strange to build your fantasies about people's needs, without ever asking them what they really want,' says Gubkina. 'People need their buildings to be repaired, so they can return to this city. I don't think they need beautiful fantasies about iconic glass skyscrapers.' Other Ukrainian architects have been just as wary of Foster's involvement. Oleg Drozdov, co-founder of the Kharkiv School of Architecture, has warned of the risks of 'intellectual colonisation', while his colleague Iryna Matsevko is concerned by 'copy-paste' masterplanning. Urban planning researcher Olexiy Pedosenko has been critical of the lack of transparency and meaningful consultation. 'The message to Kharkivites seems to be: 'We have decided an overarching trajectory without you, but maybe in the upcoming phases, we might consult you,'' says Pedosenko. 'Ukraine is full of expertise, and it deserves better.' Gubkina is frank about the more pressing matters at hand. 'I'm not sure that a futuristic vision for Kharkiv as a centre of innovation for worldwide enterprises is the right way to spend money,' she says. 'We have a lot of fragile heritage to save and repair right now, and some conservation would be great.' Architectural Guide: Kharkiv is out now as part of the Histories of Ukrainian Architecture programme initiated by DOM publishers in response to Russia's attack on Ukraine's sovereignty on 24 February 2022
The Guardian
14-07-2025
- Politics
- The Guardian
‘People here are as strong as concrete': the stunning architecture of war-torn Kharkiv
When the Derzhprom building erupted on to the Kharkiv skyline in the 1920s, it must have seemed like an impossibly futuristic vision. Standing like a gleaming white concrete castle, it curves around the circular plaza of Freedom Square in the city's centre. Built as the state industry headquarters of what was then the capital of the Ukrainian Soviet Socialist Republic, it looks like a three-dimensional game of Tetris, a mighty nest of chunky oblong forms stacked, rotated and interlocked to form a colossal administrative pile. Striding across three city blocks, and towering almost 60m high, it was the tallest office building in Europe for several years, its humungous floor plates connected high up in the air by thrilling sci-fi skybridges. It was far ahead of its time, prefiguring the brawny brutalist complexes that emerged in western Europe and the US half a century later. 'Derzhprom was conceived as the crown of the city,' says Ievgeniia Gubkina, author of a new architectural guidebook to Kharkiv. 'It was the symbol of the capital as a concrete fortress. And now, during the war, it has become the main symbol of our strength and resistance. That concrete will never fall apart – and we Kharkivites are strong as concrete.' Gubkina, who grew up in Kharkiv, had completed the text for her book just two months before Russia launched its full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022. Trained as an architect and urban planner, she had been leading tours of her home city for 15 years, and imagined the book as a love letter to the place – a love letter that suddenly became a farewell letter, when she relocated to London with her teenage daughter in July that year. The resulting publication is, she says, something of an 'anti-guidebook', given that the UK Foreign Office advice now warns against all travel to the region. Seeing Kharkiv through Gubkina's eyes, in text that combines poignant personal reflection with the analytic rigour of an academic, might be the only way you will get to experience the city for some time. The entries about each building remain unchanged, save for the addition of a few details about how the structures have since been mutilated – the drily written notes only emphasising the stark brutality of Russia's invasion. Located just 18 miles from the Russian border, Kharkiv has seen more than 8,000 of its buildings damaged or destroyed in the last three years, including homes, schools, hospitals and cultural facilities – many of them seemingly targeted for their heritage value and place in Ukrainian national identity. The Derzhprom building, despite being located several miles from the battlefield, was hit by a guided bomb on 28 October 2024. The complex, which was on Unesco's tentative list for world heritage status, had already suffered collateral damage from attacks on Freedom Square, by Russian cruise missile strikes in March 2022 and a kamikaze drone attack in January 2024. But the October strike was from a precisely guided rocket, which destroyed one of the sections of the building, damaging the roof, exterior walls, floor slabs and windows. The choice of target was no accident. Despite being of notionally Russian origin – having been designed in then Leningrad (although by architects who hailed from Ukraine's major port city, Odesa, and Vilnius, in Lithuania) – the Derzhprom building had always symbolised the autonomy of Kharkiv. It was a monument to the roaring 20s in Ukraine's then capital, built at a time when the city was alive with avant-garde writers, composers, artists and architects. It was a golden age, when Kharkiv was one of the most significant industrial, cultural, scientific and educational centres of the USSR, a period that left a lasting, if often overlooked, built legacy. The Railway Workers Palace of Culture is another constructivist gem from the era. Designed by Aleksandr Dmitriev, and built from 1927 to 1932, its gently scalloped facade has an elegant art deco air, like a giant accordion being stretched open. It housed a huge concert hall, library, exhibition spaces and dance hall, which hosted dozens of amateur art, music and dance clubs, where railway workers and their families could develop their talents and spend time together. Still in the ownership of the railway company, it was recently restored, and most of its original interiors had remained intact. That is, until March 2022, when a Russian missile attack destroyed most of its windows. A second strike in August that year caused further structural damage, leading to the collapse of the concert hall ceiling, and the loss of most of the interiors to fire. Gubkina's book doesn't dwell on the destruction. 'I was so tired of the stereotypes,' she says. 'People only see us connected with rubble and war. Yes, Russia has destroyed a lot, but my mission is to show what a rich and resilient place Kharkiv is.' The sheer variety of riches makes the book a visual treat, even from the armchair. Marvel at the gilded onion domes of the Assumption Cathedral, or the expressionist granite torsos that hold up the Kupetskyi bank and hotel. Gawp at the daring barrel-vaulted roof of the 1960s Ukraina cinema and concert hall, or the cantilevered limestone forms of the brutalist state opera and ballet theatre – a herculean construction project, begun in 1967 and only completed in 1991. It is one of the few venues in the city that has remained operational while under siege, given that one of its auditoriums is essentially housed in an underground bunker. 'It sometimes feels surreal that you can visit a beautiful piano jazz concert in the middle of war,' says Gubkina. 'But that's what gives us hope.' Other buildings haven't been so lucky. The scale of devastation is brought home in a powerful series of photographs, taken by Pavlo Dorohoi in March 2022, inserted at the beginning of the book. The architectural photographer had been commissioned to shoot a number of sites for the publication, but unexpectedly found himself reporting from the frontline of a war zone, before international press photographers had made it there. One image shows the bombed-out courtyard of the Palace of Labour, originally built in 1916 as the House of Rossiya Insurance Company, but barely occupied before the Bolshevik revolution. 'It is ironic that the building is named after Russia,' says Gubkina, 'and Russia decided to destroy it.' She returned there last summer, for the first time since the invasion began. 'It was the first moment when I really started crying in Kharkiv. I remembered the complex as a very vibrant place from my childhood, with courtyards full of cafes. Now it was a ruined shell.' Gubkina winces when I raise the talk of reconstruction plans. In April 2022, just a couple of months after the first missiles were launched, Norman Foster offered his services to the mayor of Kharkiv. The architect lord had been working on several projects in Russia up until the invasion, but he quickly severed ties, and hastily launched his Manifesto for Kharkiv that pledged to 'assemble the best minds in the world' to tackle the 'rebirth' of the city. The ensuing masterplan, published by the Norman Foster Foundation in December 2023, called for 'a new iconic architectural landmark' as well as 'an iconic, revolutionary mixed-use neighbourhood, dedicated to promoting scientific and technological innovation'. Claims of local engagement and public consultation have been somewhat undermined by the fact that detailed information about the masterplan is only available in English – a language that only a small proportion of the Ukrainian population can understand. 'I think it is strange to build your fantasies about people's needs, without ever asking them what they really want,' says Gubkina. 'People need their buildings to be repaired, so they can return to this city. I don't think they need beautiful fantasies about iconic glass skyscrapers.' Other Ukrainian architects have been just as wary of Foster's involvement. Oleg Drozdov, co-founder of the Kharkiv School of Architecture, has warned of the risks of 'intellectual colonisation', while his colleague Iryna Matsevko is concerned by 'copy-paste' masterplanning. Urban planning researcher Olexiy Pedosenko has been critical of the lack of transparency and meaningful consultation. 'The message to Kharkivites seems to be: 'We have decided an overarching trajectory without you, but maybe in the upcoming phases, we might consult you,'' says Pedosenko. 'Ukraine is full of expertise, and it deserves better.' Gubkina is frank about the more pressing matters at hand. 'I'm not sure that a futuristic vision for Kharkiv as a centre of innovation for worldwide enterprises is the right way to spend money,' she says. 'We have a lot of fragile heritage to save and repair right now, and some conservation would be great.' Architectural Guide: Kharkiv is out now as part of the Histories of Ukrainian Architecture programme initiated by DOM publishers in response to Russia's attack on Ukraine's sovereignty on 24 February 2022
Medscape
24-06-2025
- Health
- Medscape
COVID's Long Shadow
John Bolecek, 41, of Richmond, Virginia, was diagnosed with long COVID in 2022 after a mild case of acute COVID. Since then he's experienced a heavy and unrelenting fatigue that has cost him his job and most of his hobbies. In a recent interview, the former urban planner, husband, and father of two explains how he went from the life of a busy parent to being permanently disabled, and how he hopes that the future of long COVID will include treatments that help him get back some sense of normalcy.
