|
The grid is too confining, too ordered, too much a product of forethought, the aesthetics of planning. The grid, the ultimate paradox, presents order and ennui. In the fragmentation and explosion of that grid a deeper chaotic structure reveals itself: man.
Kingston grew in a tornado-like geometry. People were drawn into the city to increase their substance, their wealth. Then, having secured their future, they spread centrifugally around the city to enjoy proximity and quiet at the same time: the nearest one gets to having one’s cake and eating it: the penns. In Kingston that movement outward was warranted, water was not plentiful and “the doctor”, the cool morning inland breeze that is so pleasant, is best captured in relative isolation. One of the earliest surviving houses of this early period of suburban expansion, apocryphally at least, is Vale Royal, the prime minister’s official residence. |