Table of contents for N. 133 in Topos

Oh, hi there! I’m topos, the leading international magazine for urban planning from Munich, Germany. For me, everything revolves around the sustainable city of the future. Online, I spend 365 days a year dealing with the question: how will we live sustainably, healthily and technologized in the world’s future metropolises? In addition to my home www.toposmagazine.com, I am published four times a year as a print magazine (that’s what you are holding in your hands right now!). I address everyone who is interested in the smarter, greener city of the future and who works in, on and with the city. My readers include CEOs, mayors, architects, landscape architects, urban planners, engineers, digitalization specialists, researchers – simply everyone that is interested in urban development! My great passion is finding and analyzing…

But what exactly does this term mean? The icon—originally from the Greek eikṓn, which means “image, likeness”—initially referred to religious cult images, especially in Orthodox Christianity: richly decorated, symbolic representations of holy figures or events. Over time, the term became detached from its religious origins and came to be used to describe anything that exemplifies an era, a movement, or a cultural value. An icon embodies the spirit of the times, becoming a symbol of an idea or attitude and gaining social recognition, sometimes even veneration, as a result. The complexity of the term also explains its widespread—one might almost say inflationary—use in art and culture. Icons can be found everywhere: in pop culture as well as in the civil rights movement or feminism. The situation is similar with objects…

Mr. Oudolf, many of your projects, such as the High Line in New York and the Lurie Garden in Chicago, have shaped the way people experience urban nature. At what point does a landscape evolve into an 'urban icon' – a place that transcends its aesthetic presence to carry symbolic meaning? I think a landscape becomes an icon when it is in the right place, with the right context and the right client. Most importantly, you need the experience to know what you are doing in a public space. It’s not just about aesthetics – it’s about sustainability, durability, and attention to countless details. The work has to be able to withstand stress and change. My experience in smaller gardens before tackling larger projects helped me understand how to create…

Toronto is a city defined by three great natural systems: the Green Belt to the north, Lake Ontario to the south, and the ravines that flow between them. These ravines are not mere parks or leftover green corridors – they are the living arteries of the city, carrying water, biodiversity, and a deep sense of connection through Toronto’s urban fabric. Carved by glacial meltwaters thousands of years ago, the ravines do not follow the rigid logic of the North American grid. They cut through it, disrupt it, and soften it. They are the antithesis of human order – a continuous, meandering system that defies property lines and zoning. In doing so, they give Toronto a unique sense of flow. The city’s official biodiversity strategy recognises this. The ravine system, which…

The Parc de la Villette in Paris is widely regarded as a prime example of the radical reinterpretation of public spaces. Developed by Bernard Tschumi in close intellectual collaboration with Jacques Derrida, the park is intended as a space of possibility that dissolves classical notions of landscape, order and representation. Tschumi’s design separates events, movement and space into independent layers, which are then superimposed to form a dynamic structure. The red follies function as operational markers within this structure. The concept also opens up new perspectives on landscape architecture as an artistic and philosophical practice. Breaking away from tradition In the early 1990s, landscape architecture in Germany was in the midst of a peculiar transition phase. Caught between the ecological and social ideals of the 1970s and the desire to…

I first saw the Vietnam Veterans Memorial sometime around 1995 or 1996. At the time, I was still a student of landscape architecture at Chulalongkorn University, and it was one of the places I most wanted to experience in person. The memorial fascinated me on many levels — its power lay in the simplicity of its form and in the depth of the story behind it. When the national design competition was announced in 1980, the brief was clear and uncompromising: the memorial was to honour the men and women who served and died in the Vietnam War, list every name of those killed or missing in action, and remain apolitical — a site for remembrance rather than judgement. It was to harmonise with the surrounding landscape near the Lincoln…

Every city has them. Some flaunt them. Others deny them. A few manufacture them on demand. Urban icons – those bold, brilliant, beloved (and occasionally bewildering) objects that capture the imagination, dominate the skyline, and stubbornly appear in every second PowerPoint on “placemaking”. But what exactly makes an icon iconic? In this issue of topos, we set out to explore that very question – fully aware that, like most urban phenomena worth discussing, the answer is messier than the silhouette of the Sydney Opera House at dusk. Yes, icons inspire. They mark memory. They generate postcards, pilgrimages, and Power Rankings. But they also deceive. They distract. They cast long shadows over things we’d rather not see: who was displaced, who wasn’t consulted, and who now cleans the viewing platform. So…

There are cities that grow slowly, accumulating complexity like sediment: layer upon layer of history, contradiction, conflict, desire. And then there is Brasília – a city that was not built from the ground up, but from the top down. A city that did not evolve, but appeared. Designed, diagrammed and deployed in the heart of Brazil like a piece of national infrastructure, Brasília is not so much a city as it is a hypothesis made concrete. It is perhaps the most ambitious urban icon of the twentieth century. Where other cities have origins, Brasília has a plan – clean, rational, and monumental. From the air, it resembles an airplane or a dragonfly; from the ground, it feels more like a machine waiting to be switched on. The irony, of course,…

At first glance, this urban icon appears almost inconspicuous – modest and restrained. Yet those who engage with it soon realise the sophistication of the place: a thin film of water extending over 3,450 square metres, reflecting the clouds circling above and the surrounding architecture, harmonising both and subtly mediating between water, space, time, and society. This urban icon is far more than merely the largest reflecting pool in the world (cf. Bordeaux Tourisme, 2022). Stretching between the banks of the Garonne and the Place de la Bourse in Bordeaux, the Miroir d’eau forms part of a broader urban design and planning concept. Over time, it has become one of the city’s most photographed and most beloved meeting places. Today, it is regarded as an international model of contemporary urban…

Completed in 2005, the Cheonggyecheon Stream Restoration Project in Seoul, Korea, is one of the most iconic urban transformations of the twenty-first century. Extending nearly six kilometres through the city’s commercial core, the linear park replaced a multi-level elevated highway that covered a long-buried stream. Led by Mayor Lee Myung-bak and designed by SeoAhn Total Landscape, with the “source point” plaza by Mikyoung Kim Design, Cheonggyecheon is today a beautifully varied landscape of water, stone, and vegetation - an urban corridor that redefines Seoul’s identity through a synthesis of ecology, infrastructure, and public life. As an urban icon, Cheonggyecheon operates on multiple levels - symbolic, experiential, and economic. It embodies the city’s capacity for reinvention, translating environmental reclamation into civic imagination. Its significance lies not in the recovery of a…

When I think of iconographic projects, I think of time. True iconography transcends the moment. It amazes and moves us, and survives trends, fashions and generations. Humanity is selective, retaining only partial memories. Over time, these become irrefutable truths and serve as a cultural mouthpiece for projects that disappear over time. The ability of something to reach people of different origins, who have different cultural and social perceptions, is what makes it iconographic. Beyond spectacle: subtle urban icons Indeed, it is very difficult to withstand the passage of time. It requires both skill and luck. We tend to love either the very new or the very old. We can usually do without everything in between and tend to get rid of it. True urban iconographic projects, however, manage to survive…

During the post-Second World War years of the 1940’s and 1950’s, Finland faced the largest social and economic changes to date. The ravages of the Winter and Continuation Wars and the following ceding of territories to the Soviet Union resulted in some 120,000 lost dwellings, which at the time amounted to about a tenth of all of Finland’s housing stock. Over 420,000 evacuees from territories ceded to the Soviet Union, mostly Karelia, had to be fully relocated. At the same time, partly because of the war reparations paid to the Soviet Union, Finland was experiencing rapid industrialisation. As a result, the number of jobs in agriculture and forestry dropped to less than a third of what it had been before the wars. These changes were soon followed by an unprecedented…

Ms. Löw, what does sociology mean by “urban icons”? Unlike in some architectural definitions, an icon in sociological terms is never just a single spectacular building. We always ask about the role that a building or sculpture plays in public space. Incidentally, texts, authors, objects can become iconic as well. Cultural sociologist Jeffrey Alexander put it quite succinctly when he wrote that icons are material objects that condense meaning and enable collective identification. In a certain way, they embody experiences, hopes, and perspectives that we share as a heterogeneous society. Why are we particularly interested in the urban? Because this is where we find most icons. They lend meaning to the city, make it specific; icons offer the possibility to identify with the city through a built form. In individual…

Tobias Hager is a journalist, Chief Content Officer as well as Chief Technology Officer and member of the management board at GEORG Media. Responsible for all GEORG brands such as topos magazine, BAUMEISTER and Garten + Landschaft. t.hager@georg-media.de Julia Maria Korn studied art history, archaeology, and history in Bonn. She joined the team at Georg Media at the beginning of 2024 and is primarily responsible for Restauro magazine. j.korn@georg-media.de Julia Treichel studied landscape architecture at the Technical University of Munich. She has worked for SSR, raumzeug and Valentien+Valentien, among others. Julia@LaPensilina.com Jochen Koeber is a landscape architect and managing director of koeber Landschaftsarchitektur GmbH, with over 30 years of experience from private gardens to urban quarters. jk@koeber-la.de Prof. Regine Keller is a professor of Landscape Architecture at TUM, focusing on…

They arrive as statements of intent. A hovering rooftop here, a garden bridge there, an adaptive reuse project draped in LED sincerity. Urban icons: those meticulously branded, endlessly replicated images of progress, culture and capital that cities now collect like architectural Pokémon. Sydney has its sails. Bilbao has its blob. New York has its High Line, and the rest of the world seems determined to have a High Line too – just with slightly different plants. But what if the global obsession with urban icons isn’t just aesthetically lazy or economically risky, but culturally fatal? What if, in our wellmeaning pursuit of landmark placemaking, we are actively participating in the slow death of urban identity? Let’s be clear: this is not an argument against beauty, ambition or architectural excellence. It…

When “60 Minutes“ correspondent Bill Whitaker remarks to Frank O. Gehry that Gehry’s architectural firm "is one of the top design firms in the world", the architect is humbled by the complement. Frank Gehry also rejects the label 'starchitect', even though his work doesn't just draw crowds but can reshape entire cities. The 96-year-old boasts an incredible portfolio, having won the Pritzker Prize in 1989 and designed numerous iconic landmarks around the world. It is hard to define Frank Gehry’s style with just one term, though many would argue his designs embody deconstructivism, the architect himself also rejects this category. Through unexpected materials like corrugated metal, glass, and titanium, Gehry creates attention-grabbing buildings that double as public art and magnets for tourism. This same Frank Gehry humbly insists that he…

When I was a child, I often visited my grandparents in Hamburg. I particularly remember the harbour tours, passing rusty quay walls, containers and warehouses – an area hidden from the city that felt like no man’s land. The areas behind the landing stages were not part of city life; they were merely a backdrop for industry and logistics. At the time, it was hard to imagine that a new urban quarter would one day be built here, expanding and redefining the city centre of Hamburg. Today, HafenCity Hamburg has achieved precisely that: it is a new urban location that has become part of the city, not only in terms of its location, but also in terms of its function and atmosphere. It is not just an urban development project;…

The Coulée Verte, also known as the Green Lung, is a green space in the heart of Nice that connects the medieval old town with the modern city of the 19th century. It provides a new perspective on the past and the present. A succession of gardens, squares, water features and play areas form a diverse recreational space used by both residents and tourists. The first section of the Promenade du Paillon was opened in 2013, completing the 12-hectare project designed by landscape architects Christine and Michel Péna of Péna & Péna Paysages in Paris. Following the course of the Paillon river, which was previously covered by buildings, it brings cool freshness to the surface and forms a green-blue ribbon that balances the dense city centre. Ten years later, in…

In the heart of the historic Belgian city of Ghent, between the Saint Nicholas Church, the Belfry, and Saint Bavo’s Cathedral, stands a structure that is both humble and provocative: the Market Hall by Robbrecht en Daem architecten and Marie-José Van Hee Architecten. The hall is not a building in the classical sense but an open canopy resting on four concrete piers, with a wooden roof that stretches over the square like a tall, asymmetrical barn. It has no walls, no façade and no doors, only a roof that creates space. The asymmetrical roof profile also directly mirrors the similar roof profile of the adjacent Town Hall. The materialisation deliberately takes on a more humble position in relation to the surrounding stone monuments. It is, in fact, a movement away…

The Louvre Lens Museum, a branch of the Louvre in Paris, is located in an area of northern France with poor infrastructure, approximately 200 km north of the capital. It is situated on the site of the former No. 9 coal mine, which was used for extracting hard coal. The surrounding area is typical of the outskirts of French cities, characterised by housing estates for workers. The former mining town is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The decision to build a museum here was motivated by a desire to help one of the poorest regions in France flourish. Blurring the boundaries: museum and landscape in harmony The international architectural competition for the museum was won by a team from the Japanese firm SANAA, comprising partners Kazuyo Sejima and Ryue Nishizawa,…

When I first visited the Centro Cultural São Paulo (CCSP) in 2012, I was working with Olafur on the Your body of work exhibition at SESC Pompeia. We were staying in São Paulo for a few weeks, enough time to start to get a sense of the city. CCSP fascinated and it was one of my first stops. Before I understood the building, I really felt it. There were people reading, settled next to dancers, students resting near musicians performing, families passing through without a destination. Everything unfolded before my eyes simultaneously; each creative practice appeared and disappeared as I moved through the space. The sound of interaction and the hum of heavy traffic blended into a rhythm that felt almost like the sea. There was no clear boundary between…

The vast meadow landscape, the intense blue sage, the Japanese cherry trees glowing pink against the backdrop of well-formed hills in April, the large undulating willows by the glittering lake and the crowds sitting on Olympic Hill at Taylor Swift concerts in the Olympic Stadium all contribute to making the Olympic Park an unforgettable experience. Together with the wide, transparent tent roof of the sports buildings, this landscape forms the backdrop for everything that attracts and moves people, making the Olympic Park an urban landmark. However, Munich’s Olympic Park differs significantly from many other urban landmarks in that it is open to the public. This is not necessarily the case for monuments and icons, which are usually admired and revered from a respectful distance rather than being taken over. For…

Not because they were built to last – many were not – but because they were built to symbolise. Urban icons, those towering artefacts of ambition, vanity, ideology or design optimism, are remarkably good at surviving the systems that produced them. Long after the planners have retired, the masterplans been shelved, the political slogans forgotten and the budgets reallocated, the icon remains. Hollowed, repurposed, memeified, romanticised. But still there. The ancient world left us aqueducts, amphitheatres and temples. Our century will likely leave behind starchitect museums, overbranded cultural flagships, vertical forests that never reached canopy density, and climate-neutral headquarters of companies that helped fuel collapse. These are our pyramids – icons of systems that refused to acknowledge their own fragility. Urban icons, after all, are not about function. They are…