Full Terms & Conditions of access and use can be found athttp://www.tandfonline.com/action/journalInformation?journalCode=cjud20

Download by: [Tarbiat Modares University] Date: 05 November 2017, At: 21:46

Journal of Urban Design

ISSN: 1357-4809 (Print) 1469-9664 (Online) Journal homepage: http://www.tandfonline.com/loi/cjud20

A lone light? A critical assessment of the outcomesof the Rundle Convergence Project in Adelaide,South Australia

Matthew W. Rofe & Ebony Cetinich

To cite this article: Matthew W. Rofe & Ebony Cetinich (2017) A lone light? A critical assessmentof the outcomes of the Rundle Convergence Project in Adelaide, South Australia, Journal of UrbanDesign, 22:3, 411-427, DOI: 10.1080/13574809.2017.1305883

To link to this article: http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/13574809.2017.1305883

Published online: 10 Apr 2017.

Submit your article to this journal

Article views: 54

View related articles

View Crossmark data

Journal of urban Design, 2017Vol. 22, no. 3, 411–427http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/13574809.2017.1305883

A lone light? A critical assessment of the outcomes of the Rundle Convergence Project in Adelaide, South Australia

Matthew W. Rofea and Ebony Cetinichb

aschool of art, architecture and Design, The university of south australia, adelaide, sa, australia; bPlanning Department, Town of gawler, sa, australia

ABSTRACTFlagship urban design projects are increasingly employed by governments to achieve global recognition. Despite the political value placed upon and significant economic investment in flagship urban design projects, measuring their success and failure is extremely subjective. This research engages with this challenge though a critical analysis of the Rundle Convergence Project. Initiated by the City of Adelaide in 2006, this project sought to reinvigorate a drab intersection in the heart of Adelaide, South Australia. Touted alternatively as Adelaide’s Piccadilly Circus or Times Square, the Rundle Convergence Project promised much. However, arguably little has been realized in the intervening decade. Drawing on textual analysis of policy documents, landscape analysis and semi-structured interviews with key professionals and local government elected members involved with the Rundle Convergence Project, this research explores the successful and unsuccessful elements of flagship urban design projects in determining project outcomes. Tracing the Rundle Convergence Project’s conceptualization and development highlights the importance of appropriate contextualization and reveals the influence that individual vision, personal/political agendas and political cycles hold for the success or otherwise of flagship urban design projects. The paper concludes with a series of proposals in order to avoid the pitfalls and issues that bedevilled the Rundle Convergence Project.

Illuminating Adelaide

On 24 October 2008, Michael Harbison, Lord Mayor of the City of Adelaide, switched on the Rundle Lantern. ‘Switched on’ is apt, for the Lantern is an innovative multi-media installation that wraps the facade of a building occupying a prominent intersection within inner Adelaide, South Australia (Figure 1). Conceived as a flagship urban design project, the Lantern com-prises 748 individual 1.1 × 1 m panels that constitute a total area of 1066 m2. At nine stories the Lantern was promoted as a “living […] breathing art installation on a scale not seen in [… Australia] before” (Fusion 2007, 3). Its launch was met with considerable local enthusiasm, with Harbison declaring:

© 2017 informa uK limited, trading as Taylor & francis group

CONTACT Matthew W. rofe matthew.rofe@unisa.edu.au

Dow

nloa

ded

by [

Tar

biat

Mod

ares

Uni

vers

ity]

at 2

1:46

05

Nov

embe

r 20

17

412 M. W. ROFE AND E. CETINICH

Future prospects for the Rundle Lantern are exciting. It will be a great draw-card for special occasions like New Year’s Eve and other key cultural events, attracting even more visitors and locals to watch it light up every night from dusk.1

Enthusiasm was not for the Lantern alone. The Lantern was to be the centrepiece of a wider urban design initiative called the Rundle Convergence Project (RCP). The RCP was conceived by Adelaide City Council (ACC) to revitalize a busy, yet drab, intersection in the central business district. Flagship urban design projects here embody symbols of urban progress and innovation in which much political ambition is placed and economic invest-ment made. The RCP was envisaged as an “activity generator to [help the area] reach its full potential” (ACC 2006; original emphasis) in order to stimulate inner-city development. From its inception, the RCP was explicitly a flagship urban design undertaking. Underscoring this, the first two of the projects’ four objectives were (1) to “achieve a best practice urban ‘design’ outcome” and (2) to “achieve an integrated design solution” (ACC 2006). Launched as a design competition, the RCP sought innovative proposals involving multi-media tech-nologies to create a “civic canvas” (ACC 2006) promoting public engagement with the design itself. Moreover, a key aspect of the RCP was that the design-oriented “activity generator for this area [… would] involve features that respond to the immediate site and beyond” (ACC 2006). Thus, the RCP represented a succinct concept with clear objectives

Figure 1. The rundle lantern. source: author.

Dow

nloa

ded

by [

Tar

biat

Mod

ares

Uni

vers

ity]

at 2

1:46

05

Nov

embe

r 20

17

JOURNAL OF URBAN DESIGN 413

that were as much global as local, with the RCP touted as being “as exciting as Times Square. […]It will be something really special that expresses the mood of the city at a point where people come to” (Harbison, cited in Vlach 2006). Such projects are now globally ubiquitous.

The aspirations accompanying the Lantern went beyond political hyperbole. Flagship projects seek to enhance the public realm (Biddulph 2012; Childs 2010), creating more effec-tive connections between people and place (Radford 2010) and, ultimately, contribute pos-itively to city marketing activities. These are significant ambitions and considerable energy is devoted to their pursuit. Foremost amongst the successful implementation of such projects is strong political vision, involvement and commitment.

This paper investigates the role of politics in the success or otherwise of the RCP and its centrepiece: the Lantern, following the work of Rofe and Stein (2011) who specifically inves-tigated the Lantern and its aspirations as presented through planning documents and per-ceived by Adelaide’s design community. Rofe and Stein (2011, 340) observed that “investing in the public realm is seen as a key strategy in the rejuvenation of Adelaide’s identity”, posi-tioning the Lantern as a “physical manifestation of attempts to reorient Adelaide’s identity from conservative to progressive” (347–348). However, Radford (2010) contends that such projects are often driven by political power and individual egos. In such a climate competing egos can undermine the success of flagship urban design projects. The role of political cycles and leadership change is critical here. Rofe and Stein (2011, 348), whose research concluded prior to the launch of the Lantern, foreshadowed this contending that “[t]he extent to which Rundle Lantern realises the […] aspirations with which it is imbued or becomes an interesting local project remains to be seen”. Responding to this query, this paper firstly evaluates the realization of the RCP’s objectives, and secondly explores the role of political cycles and agendas in the success or otherwise of the RCP.

This research employs a qualitatively oriented, multi-method approach to understand complex social and political processes in place (Kohlbacher 2006; Yin 2003). To evaluate the RCP’s objectives, a review of policy documents and associated textual materials, aligned with landscape analysis, was undertaken. In particular, the ACC’s Design Brief: ‘Rundle Convergence’ Design Ideas (2006) and the two finalist-pitch documents for the project: Hassell’s (2007) Convergence […] = Cube and Fusion’s (2007) Rundle Lantern Feasibility Report were reviewed. Their objectives and projected outcomes were then mapped against what the RCP achieved. Documentary analysis aligned with landscape review is appropriate, for as Bignell (2002, 30) asserts, such interventions “shape and lend significance to our experi-ence of reality”. Following this, 10 semi-structured interviews were conducted with prominent planners, architects, urban designers and elected local government members, all of whom had direct involvement with the RCP. Semi-structured interviews gather richly textured opin-ions and experiences that help shed light on complex situations and processes (Dunn 2016). In order to provide respondents anonymity, they are referred to by their professional role as either design, planning or political respondents.

Flagship urban design

Urban design is the “practice of giving shape and coherence to built environments” (Schurch 1999, 5). Schurch’s (1999) observation broadly charts the scope of urban design, which for

Dow

nloa

ded

by [

Tar

biat

Mod

ares

Uni

vers

ity]

at 2

1:46

05

Nov

embe

r 20

17

414 M. W. ROFE AND E. CETINICH

Inam (2002, 37) occupies “an ambiguous overlap of the fields of architecture, landscape architecture, urban planning and civil engineering”. Arguably, this ambiguity hinders the development of a precise definition. More recently, Radford (2010, 380) contended that urban design strives to improve “connections between people and places, movement and the urban form, nature and the built fabric”. Here emphasis is placed upon connectivity and interaction, both of which are dynamic processes. This is important, for urban design seeks to generate dynamic places not static spaces.

Harnessing the dynamic potential of cities arguably enhances competitive advantage in an increasingly competitive urban world (Larco 2010). Consequently, urban design is employed as a “prerequisite for the economic development of cities” (Gospodini 2002, 60). This shift is part of a broader transition in the governance of cities, with Oakley (2011, 235) contending that “as cities seek greater competitive advantage […] the way and how they are planned, delivered and managed is changing”. Hubbard (1995, 250) demonstrated how urban design projects serve “as catalysts and symbols of regeneration” (see also Bani Hashim 2017; Biddulph 2011; Madureira 2015). In this vein, Rofe and Stein (2011, 384) described flagship urban design projects as “important symbols of change in the urban landscape [that …] become urban change generators”. The inherent logic here is that such projects “enhance the city[’s] image while catalysing private sector investment and attracting tourists to the surrounding area” (Grodach 2008, 195). Carmona (2016) refers to this as projection motiva-tion. Projection motivation embodies city marketing relating:

to the desire amongst leaders to project a particular image of place, perhaps in order to encour-age investment […] to a city […] but also to establish and project a clear identity for places that users can identify with and which reflect the worldview (good or ill) and ultimately the power and legacy of those responsible.(707)

While much work on the city marketing dimensions of urban design emphasizes the mar-ket-oriented approach to policy directions inherent in entrepreneurial governance, Carmona clearly links projection motivation with individual power and ego. This link highlights the opaque nature of entrepreneurial governance as it relates to urban design.

Undeniably, entrepreneurialism has initiated changes in the role of urban design. These changes have spawned questions about the transparency of decision-making processes (Ponzini 2011) and whether adequate attention is given to local contexts as opposed to global pretexts (Chapman 2011; Golicnik and Thompson 2010; Punter 2010). Such questions would seem an anathema given urban designs maxim of creating places for people. However, caution has been voiced that the pursuit of short-term, profit-oriented city marketing agen-das can undermine the quality and contextual sensitivity of local places (Kloosterman and Trip 2011). Pandering to external forces can unwittingly lead local decision-makers to adopt projects that are driven by market forces, creating over-scaled and sterile places (Friedmann 2010; Knox 2005; Loukaitou-Sideris 2012). The entrepreneurial imperative of flagship urban design embodies what Knox (2011, 157) calls the “[…] Janus-faced condition of the urban design professions”. Regardless, urban design is increasingly mobilized as a product in the interests of entrepreneurially oriented policy agendas.

Urban design is not a policy magic bullet. Flagship projects are in particular at the whim of globalizations landscape of urban winners and losers (Larco 2010). Consequently, Grodach (2008, 201) cautions against “too much expectation” being placed upon its potential. Regardless, the “faith in design” (Rofe and Stein 2011, 340) mindset evident within policy circles is rarely tempered, leading to “the high expectations of policy makers […] often not

Dow

nloa

ded

by [

Tar

biat

Mod

ares

Uni

vers

ity]

at 2

1:46

05

Nov

embe

r 20

17

JOURNAL OF URBAN DESIGN 415

[being] met” (Ponzini 2011, 251). Poorly conceived, overly ambitious projects are typically destined to fail. As Carmona (2017, 8) observes, “outcomes will only be as good as the thinking that goes into their preparation and subsequent application”.

Yet, there are other factors that can undermine flagship urban design projects. Radford (2010, 385) foreshadowed one of the most significant when stating that many such projects express “political […] power […] and […] individual ego” (see also Carmona 2016). Just as flagship urban design has been embraced by policy-makers as an economic/marketing tool, it is also mobilized as vehicles for the advancement of personal/political agendas. At the heart of this rests the operation of power and the authority to make “making particular choices, giving priority to particular visions or strategies and privileging some individuals and groups over others” (Madanipour 2006, 176). Consequently, flagship urban design pro-jects constitute political expression (Amin 2008; Berney 2010; Biddulph 2012) manifest through the operation of power. The work of Flyvberg (1998) is instructive here. Flyvberg (1998, 225) contended that “power has a rationality that rationality does not know”. The relationship between power and rationality is, according to Flyvberg, asymmetrical where “power has a clear tendency to dominate rationality in the dynamic and overlapping rela-tionship between the two”. In short, power frames rationality and in doing so creates reality through seemingly rational policy agendas and decision-making processes.

The intrusion of power over rationality is symptomatic of what Imrie and Street (2009, 2557) call the governance of designs “risky objects”. Several authors have lamented the ero-sion of expert judgement in decision-making processes (Carmona 2014, 2017; Lorne 2017). Power-sharing, an entrepreneurial governance approach to the distribution of risk, has wit-nessed the decline of power amongst professional designers and its transfer to other stake-holder groups including planners, engineers, community groups and politicians (Carmona 2014, 2016). In some instances, critical decisions are made in the absence of design expertise, prompting Barnett (2017, 38) to lament that “[i]f the designer is not present when the deci-sion is made, it is very hard to influence the outcome”. This erosion runs to assert that “[c]ounter to […] popular narratives, [and] architects [or urban designers in this case] are not as powerful as is often assumed” (Lorne 2017, 273). The following discussion illustrates how problematic decision-making, political cycles and the operation of power over rationality can undermine flagship urban design projects.

Good design … successful design … poor design … unsuccessful design

The success of flagship urban design projects can be measured in myriad ways: economic improvement, global recognition, aesthetic improvements, activity generation and com-munity benefit (Biddulph 2011; Punter 2010). This diversity reflects the broad spectrum of agendas flagship urban design projects are said to address, promoting Carmona (2014, 2) to declare urban design a “mongrel discipline”. However, if indeed urban design’s mantra of creating places for people holds true, then success should intrinsically be people oriented (Knox 2005). Exemplifying this, one respondent emphatically stated that “good urban design is about people, it has to have people at the focus of it”. Yet this is one part of the successful urban design equation. For Lee (2011, 20), successful urban design “must reconcile human and technical requirements for economic, environmental and social viability”. Here harmony between social, economic and environmental elements is promoted.

Dow

nloa

ded

by [

Tar

biat

Mod

ares

Uni

vers

ity]

at 2

1:46

05

Nov

embe

r 20

17

416 M. W. ROFE AND E. CETINICH

Achieving such harmony demands a clear understanding of local context. Design pro-fession respondents adamantly supported this, one asserting that successful projects are “appropriate to the place […] responds to its context […] builds on the qualities of place”. Similarly, another contended it “obviously has to sit in its environment so it has to be con-textual, it needs to take note of what else is around the place”. Fully understanding the site as well as its context involves comprehending the surrounding land uses and activities, pedestrian activity, vehicular activity, provision of public space and community facilities (Loukaitou-Sideris 2012). Flagship urban design interventions must successfully complement the surrounding context. However, failure to appreciate context can be fatal. Poor projects, according to one respondent, fail to appropriately “respond to place or people” and so are “imposed […] without regard to place or people”. This notion of imposition is critical for it precludes consideration of and engagement with the local community. Imposed design, for another respondent, ignores the “key ingredient” of community engagement. This may be thought of as negotiated as opposed to imposed design. Urban design projects lacking this key ingredient are at risk of community rejection (Friedmann 2010). The fate of failed projects is often demolition or modification “in drastic ways […] at prices far more than their original costs; making it clear that unloved urban places are […] awesomely bad investments” (Bentley 2002, 2).

Longevity, as emphasized by one designer, is therefore a critical element of successful flagship urban design projects; “it’s important that it’s connected, enduring, sustainable and long lasting”. Often flagship projects are implemented as short-term, high-impact interven-tions that compete for attention (Ponzini 2011). However, noted architect Jan Gehl (2011) suggests flagship projects be used to achieving a long-term vision. If a long-term vision is absent, the success of the project will be limited. Another measure of success is achieving what was initially intended. As one respondent observed, “success is if you can set out to do something and […] can achieve it”. Such projects are likely to live up to both professional and public expectations. Interesting qualities, impact, ability to engage and activity levels all signify variables that can determine the success of flagship urban design projects (Mehta 2007). Here, successful design is “something that’s innovative and interesting to the extent that it becomes a talking point” (design respondent). On the other hand, another respondent stated that “it’s about active places and that’s regardless of scale […] it has to engage, add value and vibrancy to a city”. Projects that “miss the point about what needs to be changed […] what’s important to improve the place” (design respondent) are flawed from the outset. ‘Missing the point’ manifests itself in many ways; project priorities may be misplaced empha-sizing economic objectives over community expectations (Madanipour 1997), resulting in a lack of community acceptance (Radford 2010), for example. More pointedly, a political respondent contended that flagship urban design projects are doomed if they are “ineptly conceived […] inadequately funded […] ineptly delivered or built and […] ineptly managed or undermanaged”.

This respondent articulates the attributes of successful longevity. Longevity is not simply about duration. Rather, longevity relates to vision, execution and commitment. Successful flagship urban design projects have objectives that are clearly defined and realized. In order to evaluate the degree to which this was the case with the RCP, this paper now turns to an evaluation of its objectives relative to their realization.

Dow

nloa

ded

by [

Tar

biat

Mod

ares

Uni

vers

ity]

at 2

1:46

05

Nov

embe

r 20

17

JOURNAL OF URBAN DESIGN 417

Convergence or lantern?

The setting and meeting of clear design objectives (Golicnik and Thompson 2010) is critical if the wider public is not to feel disappointed (Ponzini 2011) with project outcomes. Vision must be delivered. ACC documentation reveals two sets of objectives for the RCP. The first set detailed four broad objectives (Table 1). These broad objectives framed the design com-petition held in 2006, of which Fusion’s Rundle Lantern was the winner. In 2007, a more comprehensive set of objectives were detailed in ACC’s Capital Works, Assets and Projects Committee Agenda (Table 2).

Undeniably, the RCP’s objectives were clearly articulated. The original broad objectives emphasized the importance of innovative design, while the later detailed objectives were unambiguous about the projects spatial scope and intent. The desire to “create a beautiful, vibrant, diverse and friendlier City environment at night and improve the liveliness of Adelaide by stimulating […] activity” (detailed objective 1) was the RCP’s prime objective. This primacy was entrenched through subsequent council documents echoing that the “the objective was to create an iconic meeting place at this intersection” (ACC 2008, 2598). Undeniably, the RCP’s location is a high pedestrian and motor vehicle activity space. The extent to which the RCP has enlivened the intersection in an iconic way is thus highly ques-tionable. One design respondent criticized the location arguing its choice to be “very odd because it is a big intersection […] where you don’t necessarily want to have lots of people gathering”. Another design respondent more bluntly stated “it was a stupid location for a project of that nature”. Gehl (2011, 33) observes the “tremendous downgrading effect on the public realm” that vehicle dominance has, asserting, with Søholt (Gehl and Søholt 2002, 30),

Table 1. rundle Convergence Project broad objectives.

source: adelaide City Council (2006).

1. To achieve a best-practice urban ‘design’ outcome that meets all relevant policy and strategy requirements of council2. To achieve an integrated design solution3. To consider Pulteney street in the local and wider context of movements, social/cultural, land use, urban design,

heritage, environmental strategies and policies4. To address the eastern entry to the mall

Table 2. rundle Convergence Project comprehensive objectives.

source: adelaide City Council (2007, 2387–2388).

1. Create a beautiful, vibrant, diverse and friendlier city environment at night and improve the liveliness of adelaide by stimulating the activity and street quality level outside rundle Mall in the evenings

2. Connect rundle Mall with the east end where there is a wider and greater number of people at night, and improve the quality of the urban environment by reinforcing and capitalizing on the existing street hierarchy and adelaide’s Plan

3. Make a significant provision for community engagement and encourage spontaneous popular street entertainment while generating a safer public realm through pedestrian activity and experience

4. encourage the development of Pulteney street as a pedestrian quality street by reinvigorating and creating an attractive facade at the corner of rundle street and Pulteney street

5. Create an activity generator for the area at the intersection of rundle Mall, Pulteney street and rundle street that incorporate qualities and features that respond to the immediate site and beyond

6. generate an innovative design response to enhance the existing building fabric at the ‘Convergence’ while ensuring that the site remains functional and attractive for everyday activities

7. respond to the existing street environment and buildings, by framing the ‘Convergence’ site this includes:• The aCC u Park car park building (on the south-eastern corner)• The Centre Point building (on the north-eastern corner)• uni sa House (on the north-western corner)• a range of low-level businesses (on the south-western corner)

Dow

nloa

ded

by [

Tar

biat

Mod

ares

Uni

vers

ity]

at 2

1:46

05

Nov

embe

r 20

17

418 M. W. ROFE AND E. CETINICH

that such dominance leaves “pedestrians in an unidentified area […] neither […] exciting for people nor lively”. The RCP site contains two multi-storey car parks. Vehicle domination of the area is therefore something that cannot be readily resolved. One political respondent, then a counsellor, argued that “having an entrance and exit to a car park makes you really have to fight to reclaim that sense of pedestrian friendly environment”. As the RCP did not entail any modification to the traffic layout of the intersection, the will to fight was politically lacking. These factors prompted one design respondent to observe that “if you don’t phys-ically understand your site […] then I don’t think you’ve got a successful platform to start”. Clearly, the RCP was hamstrung by site constraints and evidently a clear understanding of its limitations compounded by a lack of will to initiate the changes required.

Comprehensive objective 2 and 3 promoted “significant provision for community engage-ment and encourage spontaneous popular street entertainment” through the creation of “an activity generator for the area” (Table 2). Reflecting back upon the RCPs conceptualization period, one political respondent recalled “[…] Harbison talking about something iconic”. The notion of encouraging ‘spontaneous popular street entertainment’ was rendered prob-lematic given the persistent traffic issues. Moreover, entertainment in public space lacks spontaneity due to regulating policies developed and administered by the City of Adelaide. Specifically, busking is regulated through the Council’s Street Permit Policy (2013a), which intersects with and is guided by eight other legislative acts. While the need for council to ensure the amenity and safety of public space is not questioned in this paper, the point must be made that the language of vibrancy and spontaneity within the RCPs objectives were constrained by other policy frameworks.

The RCPs iconic nature was not entirely left in the hands of professional designers. The RCP’s innovation was its intended function as activity generator and should function as a ‘civic canvas’. Rofe and Stein (2011) detailed the broader design community’s excitement over the prospects of the types of electronic interactivity originally touted by the RCP. Fusion’s (2007, 3) Lantern promised a “civic canvas that will enlighten, amaze and enrich the lives of the people that pass by and come in contact with it […]”, challenging ACC to

envisage [… p]eople standing in awe as the structure changes in washes of colours [… as] animations move across its face continually. […] During large events, specific content would be displayed. Festival themes could be applied. Artists could be commissioned to display their own interpretations of work on the Lantern, while competitions could be run annually for the best animations as part of the film festival. The Lantern is about adding beauty into people’s daily lives. It is about adding colour and light to our cityscape.

Here, interactivity was originally emphasized in the Lantern’s design proposal. Rofe and Stein’s (2011, 345) work captures the anticipation within Adelaide’s broader design and arts community this promise generated. One key planning respondent described that in the “early days we did talk about the value of it being interactive”. Embracing this intention, another respondent added that we “always wanted […] that people could contribute to how it works”. Prior to the launch of the Lantern, the local design community engaged in an online forum posting comments expressing great hope and excitement for the Lantern to achieve a positive change for Adelaide (Rofe and Stein 2011). In doing this, great expectation was placed on the Lantern to achieve the desired outcomes of the RCP. However, the reality of the Lantern’s interactivity was bitterly disappointing. In 2013, five years after the Lantern’s launch, the ACC attempted to jumpstart its interactivity. Then Lord Mayor Yarwood launched a Twitter-based interactivity platform enabling members of the public finally to control the

Dow

nloa

ded

by [

Tar

biat

Mod

ares

Uni

vers

ity]

at 2

1:46

05

Nov

embe

r 20

17

JOURNAL OF URBAN DESIGN 419

Lantern’s content. Promoted as “a little piece of innovation” (ACC 2013b) interactivity was restricted to 10 simple animations each associated with its own hashtag. The launch itself was only attended by a small number of people and uptake of this initiative was poor. While since the interactive Twitter launch the number of animation hashtags has increased to 90, the Rundle Lantern Twitter page only has 714 followers and a recorded number of 1599 tweets in late 2016.2 Underscoring the lack of commitment to promoting the 2013 Twitter campaign only a single sign, long since gone, of modest size and unobtrusive positioning was erected onsite (Figure 2). Lacking interactivity the Lantern is, according to one planning respondent, a “canvas […] but people don’t know how to engage with it”. This is a far cry from the promised civic canvas and by “not having that interactive element upfront […] it was always going to be limited in terms of that wow factor” (planning respondent). Here the lack of ‘upfront’ interactivity undermined the project’s ability to capture the community’s imagination. Reflecting upon this, an elected member lamented that “the attention span of the public [… is] worryingly short”. However, in asserting that the community’s attention span was the issue ignores the lack of promised interactivity that, as Rofe and Stein (2011) demonstrated, was so eagerly anticipated. Not shifting responsibility to the public, one design respondent labelled the Lantern a largely “static piece of work” due to its failed interactivity.

The static nature of the Lantern is not restricted to its lack of interactivity. As a light-ing-based instillation the Lantern’s true potential can only be realized at night. Fusion’s (2006, 7) proposal pre-empted the Lantern’s need for daylight visual appeal asserting the

panels from the street will give a visual louvered effect that […] mimics a traditional paper lan-tern. The panels finished in a satin silver finish would, during the day, appear as a giant sculptural silver lantern—an architectural landmark.

Figure 2. Tweet the @rundle lantern signage 2013. source: author.

Dow

nloa

ded

by [

Tar

biat

Mod

ares

Uni

vers

ity]

at 2

1:46

05

Nov

embe

r 20

17

420 M. W. ROFE AND E. CETINICH

Respondents did not share this view. Adverse comments varied from largely benign—“during the day it doesn’t engage with people […] it doesn’t make a contribution”—to more stri-dent—“it’s probably a negative contribution in my view”—to adamantly negative:

the Rundle Lantern itself is nothing, during the day it’s a bunch of panels stuck on a car park and during the night it’s something that’s sort of green, yellow, red and blue” (emphasis added).

Undeniably the Lantern’s daytime impact is drabber than Fusion’s promised ‘architectural landmark’ (Figure 3). The issues bedevilling the RCP site and the lack of interactivity inherent in the Lantern embody Grodach’s (2008) contention that design projects that fail to deliver on their objectives or engage the community contribute little to public space.

However, the Lantern was not the RCP in its entirety. Objectives 4 and 5 clearly articulated that the heart of the RCP was ‘Convergence’. Objective 5 identifies the buildings occupying the four corners of the intersection as ‘framing the “Convergence”’. The Lantern was envisaged as the catalyst to encourage other projects to enliven the Convergence. One of these, the ACC car park building on the south-eastern corner, is the Lantern site. One political respond-ent believed that the Lantern would “encourage other building owners and business owners to add to the light show on that intersection”. Fusion (2007, 10) expressed a similar view, proposing that “we imagine public interest extending the civic canvas to include the […] car park building” opposite the Lantern. Despite this there was no spillover into private-sector initiatives. This was not surprising as the final cost of the Lantern was approximately A$2 million (Rofe and Stein 2011) and that there was no financial assistance scheme in place to stimulate additional privately led development. Positioning the private sector as being responsible for the ongoing development of the RCP is, frankly, responsibility shifting. The desire for further activation was evident within the local business community. However, what the local business community expected was political leadership. Exemplifying this, a commentary in the local East End News (Anon. 2010, 3) requested:

Figure 3. a ‘bunch of panels stuck on a car park’. note the vehicle traffic in the ‘Convergence’ site. source: author.

Dow

nloa

ded

by [

Tar

biat

Mod

ares

Uni

vers

ity]

at 2

1:46

05

Nov

embe

r 20

17

JOURNAL OF URBAN DESIGN 421

On the opposite corner [to the Lantern] is another car park with a facade that desperately needs enlightening. Would the Council please consider a major lighting project on this building, which would be able to enhance the existing Lantern?

This call remains unanswered and the Lantern is the lone artefact of the RCP.The outcome of the RCP is a far cry from what was envisaged. This was widely acknowl-

edged by respondents, even those strongly promoting the Lantern. For one political respond-ent, “the outcome is a pale shadow of the original conception”. For another, “it’s […] an unfinished project […] it’s unfortunate that it stands alone as an element of […] a broader concept”. Yet another respondent highlighted a lack of correlation with original objectives stating that “they’ve got themselves an outcome, whether it’s long lasting […] is questionable […] it certainly isn’t what it could have been”. The above discussion emphasizes that the RCP has not fulfilled its objectives. Reflecting on this, a political respondent conceded that “if you promise more than you have the ability to deliver, you are likely to damage your own project”. However, the site constraints and other associated physical limitations of the RCP alone do not explain why the projects objectives were not fully realized. Here the role of political agendas and cycles comes to the fore.

The politics of design

Flagship urban design projects are as much political statements as physical artefacts. Radford (2010) argued that as expressions of ego and ambition, such projects are often highly con-tentious. This too bedevilled the RCP. From the outset the RCP was politically conceived and so political in nature. One respondent close to the implementation of the project simply called it Harbison’s “pet”, another calling it his “brain child”. Ironically, the initial genesis for what became the RCP rested with Councillor Richard Hayward, who in mid-2005 called for changes to the ACC’s planning laws to allow large-scale neon advertising billboards within the central business district (Hough 2005). Haywood’s call was met with enthusiasm from the local business community and within the ACC. Harbison, as Lord Major, was prominent in media covering the announcement of the proposal and quickly became the voice of and champion for the RCP. It is worth noting that despite Haywood’s proposal growing into the RCP and the unveiling of the Lantern in 2008 that Haywood expressed frustration in the media that the 2007–10 City of Adelaide local government was not very “productive” and that they lacked in delivering outcomes for the city (Holderhead 2010). In the same media article Councillor Anne Moran also expressed similar frustration characterizing the council as a “do nothing” council and laying significant blame upon Harbison for a lack of leadership. This is undue criticism for during Harbison’s two terms as Lord Mayor (2003–07 and 2007–10) he championed vibrancy and inner-city living within Adelaide. Arguably this stemmed from his experiences having lived for a number of years in inner London. This experience also explains his habit of likening the RCP to Piccadilly Circus, while the media preferred New York‘s Times Square reference. While Harbison was involved in the early development phases of the Victoria Square and Adelaide Oval-Riverbank Entertainment Precinct, these were largely state-led projects. The RCP was embraced and championed by Harbison, arguably, as his signature achievement as lord mayor.

Several respondents emphasized the personal/political dynamics in the RCP deci-sion-making process generally and the design competitions outcome specifically. Hassel’s

Dow

nloa

ded

by [

Tar

biat

Mod

ares

Uni

vers

ity]

at 2

1:46

05

Nov

embe

r 20

17

422 M. W. ROFE AND E. CETINICH

Cube and Fusion’s Lantern were short-listed from the competition, debated and voted on by ACC elected members (Rofe and Stein 2011). That the final decision was made by elected members alone emphasizes the political dynamics of the project and echoes the concerns of Imrie and Street (2009) and Carmona (2014, 2016) about the marginalization of design experts in decision-making. Reflecting back, one planning respondent stressed that the “administration as a whole was hesitant with the [… Rundle Lantern] option” as opposed to Hassell’s Cube. This is very telling. The ACC’s Urban Design Advisory Panel (UDAP) Recommendations (ACC 2007, 2392) clearly stated that the Cube met eight of the city’s strategic policy objectives, whereas the Lantern only met five. On this basis, the UDAP con-cluded that “from the 2 proposals presented, that […] ‘The Cube’ [more] positively responds and intervenes in the site when compared to […] ‘The Lantern’ based on a design assessment” (ACC 2007, 2392). From a design perspective, the Lantern was criticized for its “limited” capac-ity to display “advertising […] films or live feed[s …] creating only a night display effect” (ACC 2007, 2389), and there were concerns with the appearance of the “screen structure when the [… lantern was] not active” (ACC 2007, 2391). Ultimately, the UDAP concluded that the Lantern’s “impact to the intersection [… was] not that significant” (ACC 2007, 2391). The rationality of meeting the RCP’s objectives should, logically, have held sway. However, there are multiple forms of rationality in decision-making, some commanding greater power than others (Flyvberg 1998). Economic considerations were also central to the decision-making process. With an original budget allocation of A$1.6 million for the project, the Lantern at A$1.7 million was considerably less than the Cube’s A$2.9 million (Rofe and Stein 2011, 343). However, the Lantern was cleverly presented in two forms: full wrap and a partial 60% wrap. The estimated cost of the full wrap was A$2.75 million, whereas the partial wrap was esti-mated at A$1.7 million. Notwithstanding the views of the expert UDAP, the council’s Capital Works, Assets and Project Committee, comprised of only elected voting members, supported the partial-wrap Lantern over the Cube largely on financial grounds. Here the power of economic expediency held sway over the rationality of design and the meeting of clearly stated policy objectives.

Beyond economic considerations, the power of politics was also at play. The vote, moved by Harbison in favour of the Lantern, was carried four in favour to three against. Councillor Angrove requested that his dissent to the project be noted, later publically commenting that the project was a “mistake [and the] Council has got its priorities wrong” (Leo, 2007 , 9). The single vote that carried the Lantern forward reveals how marginal was the decision. Reflecting back, one design respondent recalled “there were a lot of concerns about that project from a professional perspective, but from an elected member perspective they loved it”. For another design respondent the “great deal of ownership and sense of interest by [… elected] Council members [… resulted in] clear views around what they wanted” that were unable to be tempered. Disregard for UDAP’s views represents a silencing of expertise as presented through formal submissions. Barnett’s (2017, 38) concern over the lack of expert presence in decision-making is here up-scaled to include silencing as well as exclusion. Certainly, differences of opinion between professional staff and elected members in local government are not unusual. However, disregard for expert opinion results in a lack of inte-grated decision-making processes. Lee (2011, 13) notes that this is particularly the case in South Australia, where “current ways of decision-making […] while highly laudable in many cases, are fragmented”. Fragmented decision-making disrupts the flow of ideas, unity of

Dow

nloa

ded

by [

Tar

biat

Mod

ares

Uni

vers

ity]

at 2

1:46

05

Nov

embe

r 20

17

JOURNAL OF URBAN DESIGN 423

purpose, trust, energy and inclination towards new products, processes or services (Henderson and McAdam 2001).

Another critical dimension in the eroded outcomes of the RCP is the role played by polit-ical cycles. Loukaitou-Sideris (2012, 468) unambiguously contends that political cycles are critical asserting that many “large-scale urban design visions […] are still on the drawing boards years after their inception, doomed by both economics and politics”. This is certainly the case of the RCP. Political cycles and competing interests plagued the RCP. The RCP’s conceptualization and development spanned two local government election cycles. The first occurred during the 2006 competition decision-making process. One councillor, reflect-ing back, recalled:

As an incoming Councillor […] I had an opportunity to vote against it […] I had my reserva-tions about it, but I didn’t want to [counter] the efforts of the previous Council […] so I voted in support of it.

This admission is strikingly candid. On the one hand, they acknowledge their concerns while, on the other, admitting the constraint of previous decision-making processes in shaping their final decision. Here the operation of power over rationality becomes clear. Arguably, for this respondent the power of prior decisions and their weight of expectation took prec-edence over the rationality of their independent assessment of the projects merits. This period of political change was also a time of uncertainty for design professionals:

we had support via Council and then the Council changed and there were some Councillors who thought ‘we’re not signing off on this’ so it […] nearly didn’t happen.

Carmona’s (2014, 2016) work is instructive here. Carmona (2016, 718) stresses that urban design operates over “long term horizons” and that the challenge this presents is to “design a decision-making environment that […] positively influences how decisions about design are made and ultimately how outcomes are shaped” (719). Carmona calls this “design gov-ernance”. Design governance is a holistic approach to urban design from conceptualization, through implementation and into management. The RCP displayed very few of these ele-ments. The flaws evident in its conceptualization and implementation, highlight the RCP’s lack of coordination.

The second political cycle during the life of the RCP was the 2010 local government elections that saw Harbison replaced as lord mayor. Reflecting back on this period a political respondent noted that “a new government or leaderships’ survival pretty well depends on not championing the work of their predecessors”. Continuing, this respondent emphasized that newly elected leaders desire “to put their own stamp on their leadership” as a form of political expediency and personal ambition. With the change of mayoral leadership attention shifted from the RCP—Harbison’s pet—to other agendas and projects. To be fair, at the time of this change the Lantern was built and the new mayor did seek to promote the Lantern’s interactivity as noted previously. However, it is undeniable that the RCP was effectively dead. One local political respondent describes the downfall of the RCP as:

a lack of will and priority of the next Council […] change of Councillors […] development of different priorities […] it seemed the whole precinct notion has fallen off the table really, people have looked elsewhere, moved on […] other major projects have taken up all the available space and the head sets and drive have fallen by the wayside.

In order for flagship urban design projects to be successful, the Australian government (2011, 12) acknowledges that “design excellence requires visionary leadership […] for larger projects consider a design champion”. Carmona (2014, 20) has made similar calls for “strong project

Dow

nloa

ded

by [

Tar

biat

Mod

ares

Uni

vers

ity]

at 2

1:46

05

Nov

embe

r 20

17

424 M. W. ROFE AND E. CETINICH

champion[s] committed and able to drive a project forward”, even though political transition in “a never ending cycle of stewardship” (Carmona 2016, 719). Sadly, this was not the case with the RCP. As a planning respondent observed, “it need[ed] a champion [… and] as soon as Harbison was gone […] priorities changed”. Lamenting this, a political respondent stated:

in terms of completion of the whole Convergence concept, I’m sure that's long ago been for-gotten […] simply forgotten in the pursuit of new things […] they want to think about what they’re doing tomorrow, their own pet project.

Should Harbison have continued as lord mayor the outcomes of the RCP, arguably may have been different. Unfortunately, the new council did not continue the RCP as priorities and political will changed towards new ventures. In effect, the claimed light from the RCP had faded.

Lessons in the lone lightIn pondering whether the Lantern would deliver its much lauded ambitions, Rofe and Stein (2011, 346) concluded that “[t]ime will tell”. In response, this paper has critically evaluated the outcomes of this RCP almost a decade after its launch. Whereas Rofe and Stein specifically addressed the Lantern, this paper took a broader perspective addressing the RCP as a much larger strategic vision. Strategically, flagship urban design projects are pursued for their perceived city marketing benefits (Gospodini 2002; Radford 2010) and the policy documents framing and the political rhetoric surrounding the RCP exemplify this. Harnessing the poten-tial benefits of a design-lead approach demands careful planning, the setting of realistic objectives that take into consideration local context and meeting these objectives. The RCP’s objectives were detailed and aspirational. However, the project was hamstrung by the site itself. Despite intending to generate a meeting place, the RCP site faced significant chal-lenges. The physical layout of the site, with major traffic flows through it, were foremost amongst these. The severity of these issues promoted several respondents to argue that the RCP, while conceptually sound, was unsuitably located.

The RCP generally and the decision-making processes around the Lantern specifically were politically led and laden with personal/professional ambitions. Reflecting the works of Campbell (2009) , Loukaitou-Sideris (2012) and Carmona (2014, 2016), political agendas and cycles were key dimensions in the RCP’s demise. Power rests at the heart of political agendas. Despite concerns raised by professional designers and planners, politically embedded deci-sion-making carried the day. This echoes recent concerns within the literature centred upon the erosion of expert opinion in urban design decision-making (Imrie and Street 2009; Carmona 2014, 2016, 2017; Lorne 2017). Flyvberg’s (1998) observations of the unequal rela-tionship between power (political aspiration) and rationality (professional recommendations) also ring true here. Flagship urban design should be pursued with the rationality of the considered mind as much as driven by the power of the impassioned heart. Yet the demise of the RCP was cemented by transitions associated with political cycles. Changing political priorities as newly elected members seek to “put their own stamp on […] leadership” can derail prior vision and efforts. This derailing may not be direct. Underfunding, disjointed management and inertia significantly undermine flagship urban design projects. This erodes the potential for such projects to realize their intended outcomes, rendering them incom-plete conceptually and/or physically. Such has been the RCP’s fate. Despite the original hype and anticipation that met the unveiling of the Lantern, as the RCP’s centrepiece (Rofe and Stein 2011), the RCP was never realized.

Dow

nloa

ded

by [

Tar

biat

Mod

ares

Uni

vers

ity]

at 2

1:46

05

Nov

embe

r 20

17

JOURNAL OF URBAN DESIGN 425

In many regards the RCP is a cautionary tale. From this tale three lessons emerge. The first is that integrated professional/political decision-making should be embraced by government bodies. This approach should span the entirety of the project; from conception to beyond completion. Further, professionals need to be involved or at least have their expert opinions heeded in final decision-making processes (Barnett 2017). That final decisions can be made in the face of expert opinion by non-experts is highly problematic. Here the axiom of power taking precedence over rationality must be addressed. The second is that flagship urban design projects demand a champion or more preferably champions. Carmona (2014) is equally adamant on the importance of project champions. In order to realize the first lesson, it would be most desirable that any such champions represent a combination of elected members and professional staff. A combination of champions from cognate professions—urban design and urban planning—and elected members could reduce the risk that projects “do not become hijacked by narrow interests” (Carmona 2014, 20). The role of champions is crucial given the time frames of flagship urban design projects. Third such projects must be future-proofed through political cycles. Here the role of champions in providing project stability and continuity is vital. It is also crucial that political change not squander the activ-ities of their predecessors needlessly. Here longer-term “stewardship” (Carmona 2016) is required as opposed to short-term political ambition. These three lessons are aptly demon-strated by the case of the RCP. A testament to its ambitions the Lantern is its sole artefact. This single intervention is striking and has enlivened an otherwise drab corner-building. However, the great shame is that the lessons of the RCP, which promised much more than was eventually delivered, are illuminated by the Lantern’s lights alone.

Notes

1. See http://www.news.com.au/news/m-lantern-lights-up-city/story-fna7dq6e-1,111,117,843,427/.2. See https://mobile.twitter.com/rundlelantern.

Disclosure statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the authors.

References

Adelaide City Council. 2006. Design Brief: ‘Rundle Convergence’ Design Ideas. Adelaide: City Urban Design.Adelaide City Council. 2007. “Meeting Agenda 16 April 2007.” In Capital Works. Adelaide: Assets

and Projects Committee. Accessed February 9 2017. http://dmzweb.adelaidecitycouncil.com/agendasminutes/files08/Agendas/CWAP/2007/2007_04_16CWAP.pdf

Adelaide City Council. 2008. "Meeting Agenda 21 January 2008." In Development Assessment Panel. Accessed March 29 2017. http://dmzweb.cityofadelaide.com.au/agendasminutes/files08/Agendas/DAP/2008/2008_01_21DAP.pdf

Adelaide City Council. 2013a. “Street Permit Policy.” http://www.adelaidecitycouncil.com/city-business/business-responsibilities/permits-licences-for-business/busking)

Adelaide City Council. 2013b. “Rundle Lantern Launches Twitter Interaction.” (video). YouTube. Accessed September 29 2016. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Jitg2VNH48

Amin, A. 2008. “Collective Culture and Urban Public Space.” City 12 (1): 15–24.Anon. 2010. “Letters to the Editor.” East End News, 3.Australian Commonwealth Government. 2011. “Creating Places for People: An Urban Design Protocol

for Australian Cities.” Accessed September 29 2016. http://infrastructureaustralia.gov.au/policy-

Dow

nloa

ded

by [

Tar

biat

Mod

ares

Uni

vers

ity]

at 2

1:46

05

Nov

embe

r 20

17

426 M. W. ROFE AND E. CETINICH

publications/publications/Creating-Places-for-People-an-urban-design-protocol-for-Australian-cities-2011.aspx

Bani Hashim, A. R. 2017. “Urban Design and the Entrepreneurial City: Place Branding Theory and Methods.” In Strategic Place Branding Methodologies and Theory for Tourist Attraction, edited by A. Bayraktar and C. Uslay, 88–111. Hershey, PA: IGI Global.

Barnett, J. 2017. “Can We Extend Design Governance to the Big Urban Design Decisions?” Journal of Urban Design 22 (1): 37–39.

Bentley, I. 2002. Urban Transformations: Power, People and Urban Design. London: Routledge.Berney, R. 2010. “Learning from Bogota: How Municipal Experts Transformed Public Space.” Journal of

Urban Design. 15 (4): 539–558.Biddulph, M. 2011. “Urban Design, Regeneration and the Entrepreneurial City.” Progress in Planning.

76 (2): 63–103.Biddulph, M. 2012. “The Problem with Thinking about or for Urban Design.” Journal of Urban Design.

17 (1): 1–20.Bignell. J. 2002. Media Semiotics: an Introduction. 2nd Ed. Manchester, NH: Manchester University Press.Campbell, T. 2009. “Learning Cities: Knowledge, Capacity and Competitiveness.” Habitat International

33 (2): 195–201.Carmona, M. 2014. “The Place-Shaping Continuum: A Theory of Urban Design Process.” Journal of Urban

Design. 19 (1): 2–36.Carmona, M. 2016. “Design Governance: Theorizing an Urban Design Sub-Field.” Journal of Urban Design

21 (6): 705–730.Carmona, M. 2017. “The Formal and Informal Tools of Design Governance.” Journal of Urban Design.

22 (1): 1–36.Chapman, D. 2011. “Engaging Places: Localizing Urban Design and Development Planning.” Journal of

Urban Design. 16 (4): 511–530.Childs, M. 2010. “A Spectrum of Urban Design Roles.” Journal of Urban Design. 15 (1): 1–19.Dunn, K. 2016. “Interviewing.” In Qualitative Research Methods in Human Geography. 4th ed, edited by

I. Hay, 149–188. Canada: Oxford University Press.Flyvberg, B. 1998. Rationality and Power: Democracy in Practice. Translated by Steven Sampson. Chicago,

IL: University of Chicago Press.Friedmann, J. 2010. “Place and Place-Making in Cities: A Global Perspective.” Planning Theory & Practice.

11 (2): 149–165.Fusion. 2007. Rundle Convergence: Rundle Lantern Feasibility Report. Adelaide: Fusion.Gehl, J. 2011. Public Spaces & Public Life Study: City of Adelaide 2011. Copenhagen, Denmark: Ghel

Architects ApS.Gehl, J., and H. Søholt. 2002. Public Spaces and Public Life: City of Adelaide, 2002. Copenhagen, Denmark:

Ghel Architects ApS.Golicnik, B., and C. W. Thompson. 2010. “Emerging Relationships between Design and Use of Urban

Park Spaces.” Landscape and Urban Planning. 94: 38–53.Gospodini, A. 2002. “European Cities in Competition and the New ‘Uses ' of Urban Design.” Journal of

Urban Design. 7 (1): 59–73.Grodach, C. 2008. “Museums as Urban Catalysts: The Role of Urban Design in Flagship Cultural

Development.” Journal of Urban Design. 13 (2): 195–212.Hassell. 2007. Convergence + Marker + Point X + Sequence + Time = Cube. Adelaide: Hassell.Henderson, J., and R. McAdam. 2001. “Decision Making in the Fragmented Organisation: A Utility

Perspective.” Management Decision. 39 (6): 461–469.Holderhead, S. 2010. “Mayor to Blame for Inaction: Councillor.” The Advertiser September 6th. Accessed

February 6 2017. http://www.adelaidenow.com.au/news/south-australia/mayor-to-blame-for-inaction-councillor/news-story/fbc4cf0eb3383b4c8999c0f1a3d7354a

Hough, A. 2005. “A Touch of Times Square Light It Up: City's Plan to Go Neon.” The Advertiser, July 14. 10.Hubbard, P. 1995. “Urban Design and City Regeneration: Social Representations of Entrepreneurial

Landscapes.” Urban Studies. 33 (8): 1441–1461.Imrie, R., and Emma Street. 2009. “Risk, Regulation and the Practices of Architects.” Urban Studies 46

(12): 2555–2576.

Dow

nloa

ded

by [

Tar

biat

Mod

ares

Uni

vers

ity]

at 2

1:46

05

Nov

embe

r 20

17

JOURNAL OF URBAN DESIGN 427

Inam, A. 2002. “Meaningful Urban Design: Teleological/Catalytic/Relevant.” Journal of Urban Design 7 (1): 35–58.

Kloosterman, R. C., and J. J. Trip. 2011. “Planning for Quality? Assessing the Role of Quality of Place in Current Dutch Planning Practice.” Journal of Urban Design 16 (4): 455–470.

Knox, P. L. 2005. “Creating Ordinary Places: Slow Cities in a Fast World.” Journal of Urban Design 10 (1): 1–11.

Knox, P. L. 2011. Cities and Design. Abington: Routledge.Kohlbacher, F. 2006. “The Use of Qualitative Content Analysis is Case Study Research.” Forum:

QualitativeSocial Research 7 (1): 1–21.Larco, N. 2010. “Both/and: Merging Global and Local Identity through Design. A Case Study of Puerto

Madero, Buenos Aires.” Journal of Urban Design 15 (2): 195–210.Lee, L. 2011. “An Integrated Design Strategy for South Australia.” In Adelaide Thinkers in Residence.

Adelaide: Department of Premier and Cabinet, Government of South Australia. Accessed September 30 2016. https://timhortonblog.files.wordpress.com/2013/01/llreport.pdf

Leo, J. 2007. "Decision on Adelaide’s Times Square.” The Advertiser April 16: 9.Lorne, C. 2017. “Spatial Agency and Practising Architecture Beyond Buildings.” Social & Cultural

Geography 18 (2): 268–287.Loukaitou-Sideris, A. 2012. “Addressing the Challenges of Urban Landscapes: Normative Goals for Urban

Design.” Journal of Urban Design 17 (4): 467–484.Madanipour, A. 1997. “Ambiguities of Urban Design.” Town Planning Review 68 (3): 363–383.Madureira, A. M. 2015. “Physical Planning in Place-Making through Design and Image Building.” Journal

of Housing and the Built Environment 30 (1): 157–172.Mehta, V. 2007. “Lively Streets: Determining Environmental Characteristics to Support Social Behaviour.”

Journal of Planning Education and Research 27: 165–187.Oakley, S. 2011. “Re-Imagining City Waterfronts: A Comparative Analysis of Governing Renewal in

Adelaide, Darwin and Melbourne.” Urban Policy and Research 29 (3): 221–238.Ponzini, D. 2011. “Large Scale Development Projects and Star Architecture in the Absence of Democratic

Politics: The Case of Abu Dhabi, UAE.” Cities 28 (3): 251–259.Punter, J. 2010. “Planning and Good Design: Indivisible or Invisible? A Century of Design Regulation in

English Town and Country Planning.” Town Planning Review 81 (4): 343–380.Radford, A. 2010. “Urban Design, Ethics and Responsive Cohesion.” Building Research and Information

38 (4): 379–389.Rofe and Stein. 2011. “Shedding New Light on Adelaide? Intersections between Urban Design Projects

and City Marketing.” Journal of Urban Design 16 (3): 333–350.Schurch, T. W. 1999. “Reconsidering Urban Design: Thoughts about Its Definition and Status as a Field

or Profession.” Journal of Urban Design 4 (1): 5–28.Vlach, A. 2006. “Exciting: The Proposal from Fusion.” The Advertiser, November 12. Accessed November

12 2015. http://www.adelaidenow.com.au/news/adelaide-to-have-a-times-square/story-e6freo8c-1111112511460?nk=95ce1c86d94c14a254cfdf2c95b68cfb-1445913004

Yin, R. 2003. Case Study Research, Design and Methods. 3rd ed. Thousand Oaks: SAGE Publications.

Dow

nloa

ded

by [

Tar

biat

Mod

ares

Uni

vers

ity]

at 2

1:46

05

Nov

embe

r 20

17