OffCite invites short essays, reviews, and observations on specific moments and places. Interested in contributing your own? Let us know.
I have seen where the concrete freeway dividers go to recuperate when they're between jobs. They're trucked to two dirt lots immediately north and south of Loop 610, near Long Drive and Cedar Crest Street, and crisscrossed in 20- or 30-foot-high stacks. There's no fence or gate. If you squinted (or took off your glasses), you might mistake these stacks and their raw concrete and aggressive geometry for some kind of Modernist midrise development — not a Radiant City but a Sample City. It's strangely peaceful, and strangely pleasing, to walk here. It's as though you're the guinea pedestrian among the models arranged on some giant urban planner's table, helping to test theories about scale and building height and density.
As with real cities, there were surprises in here, too. Behind some of the stacks --- in the alleys, as they were --- were piles of exquisite junk, ready-made tableaus of stuffed animals, waterlogged books, tires.
And the stacks invited you to climb them. That afforded some nice views of the nearby retail and Downtown skyline.
