So much of our daily life is impacted by property lines. Like the rhythm of sunrise and sunset, the way we traverse earth is so fundamentally affected by property lines that we simply take their directives as a given. Go to this land here and not that land there is an internal imperative delivered multiple times a day, most often at a subconscious level.
And yet property lines are invisible in our spatial experience. Much like the wind, our experience of them is defined by the residual results they manifest: fences, curbs, hedgerows, security guards, etc. Why, then, do so many architectural plans scribe these lines with such gusto, their presence the loudest of all markings? And why are such other perceptible parts of our spatial experience so frequently omitted, like shadow, roof lines, or tree canopies?
Topographical lines are another frequent omission on plans. Yes, much of our planet is essentially flat, but our processions are most deeply defined by the landforms we traverse. Property lines, the Euclidian strokes of man so often at odds with these natural expressions, are rendered with disproportionate satisfaction, while nature’s organic lines retreat to a devalued background. Yet another example of a carnal need to leave our mark on the earth? I don’t know, remind me to ask that kid on the beach carving his name in the sand.
In the meantime, consider Frank Lloyd Wright’s Usonia (pictured above), an experimental subdivision of mid-twentieth century New York state. As author Roland Reisley has explained, Wright laid out residential building lots as circles of about an acre, touching tangentially rather than “cheek by jowl,” in an effort to procure greater individual privacy and a sense of a much greater, common space. Imagine how many property disputes have been muted by such a layout, where one man’s property only kisses his neighbors rather than striking a line in the sand against it. And then imagine how that posture may have impacted those relationships. Perhaps a worthy consideration in a world so keen on division of space.
DJ