I took this picture near my house. The neighborhood is so old that there are horse tie rings embedded into the curbs. Although no real horses are now tied to these rings, many of my neighbors have replaced them with small plastic replicas such as the ones pictured above. What a creative and fun use for something now obsolete.

Personal space.  A term that we all understand, yet constantly misinterpret.  Perhaps it is because we all define our own personal space differently, changing those definitions with place and time and, well, general whims of fancy.

I walked past a small apartment complex earlier today and noticed something unusual- its residents were actually using their communal courtyard.   At first, I wrote them off as a bunch of communal hippies.  But then, in a second, more fruitful thought, I wondered what about the space encouraged such extensive sharing.  Even hippies are still affected psychologically by imposed physical boundaries and can be territorial- yet here, there were no boundaries- rather the space itself specifically encouraged community.

Americans typically don’t share space very well.  Our quintessential family homes attest to that- very rarely now do you find even siblings sharing rooms.   Our homes, while private, are really a series of boundaries- from the public walk area, to a threshold, to guest areas and private beds and baths.  Much of the fun in home design is about navigating these boundaries, pushing them backwards and forwards according to both the designer and the client’s whims.  The same holds true in multi-household residences such as this apartment complex.  I have found that residents rarely occupy the landscaped gardens and public hallways so typical of apartment complexes throughout our nation; rather these semi-private spaces act not only as a boundary to the public-at-large but also amongst the residents themselves.  There is no feeling of ownership to be had in these semi-private areas except by that of the nameless landlord.  It is private space, but not for real use.  Each apartment is abruptly cut off from these places by doors, and lack of visual and physical access.  Even hippies that live in these sorts of places rarely occupy these them in a permanent manner such as what was happening at the particular complex that I passed.

The answer as to why this place as opposed to others is simply because this complex had a more successful, and less harsh, series of boundary markers.  Although the complex itself was L-shaped with its courtyard fronting the road, the yard was fairly well enclosed.  Physically separated from the street by a vine-covered brick wall, this courtyard had one access point- an arched opening containing a staircase.  Change in elevation has long been proved as another way of forming physical boundary, just as good as walls.  With both of these forms of boundary acting together, the courtyard acted more like an interior courtyard of a home in the Mediterranean style.

Its residences, numbering under 10 had a communal entry boundary that successfully yet subtlety transitioned them from the street, and once again from the courtyard to the residences, the boundary line, while present, was blurred. Each residence had been given a large porch area covered by a communal trellis with vines.  The trellis acted as a subtle separation of outdoor space versus courtyard for the residences; yet it was not so harsh as to not still encourage interaction.  Instead, it allowed the semi-public space of the courtyard to smoothly transition into a porch-like area for each residence, and then the residence itself.  The subtle separation of street from courtyard, then courtyard from residence is what makes this apartment successfully encourage community- something typical American apartment complexes lack.

Although boundary lines are subject to change, proper clarity and smooth transitioning along them can make spaces more successful.