Do you develop it?
Do you leave it?
Or do you let people decide?
As a designer, I’m drawn to adding layers—communal meaning, ecological processes, ways of bringing people into a closer relationship with the land. That’s often where good design sits: in the overlap between use, memory, and system, or at least its whats considered t be good.
Do you develop it?
Do you leave it?
Or do you let people decide?
As a designer, I’m drawn to adding layers—communal meaning, ecological processes, ways of bringing people into a closer relationship with the land. That’s often where good design sits: in the overlap between use, memory, and system, or at least its whats considered t be good.
But sometimes, you have to ask—is it better left as it is?
Land left alone might not be a waste. It might be holding something open—space for change, for questions, for mess. Not everything has to be resolved or reworked to fit an idea of what’s useful or ‘good’.
There’s value in uncertainty. In allowing a site to be unfinished, unclaimed. It challenges the instinct to control or assign meaning too quickly. In some cases, the absence of intervention can say more than any carefully designed scheme ever could.
So maybe the real work is knowing when to step in—and when not to.
Land Inb Bristol
This land in Bristol owned by the council received planning permission in 2022 however nothing has happened. its claimed that itsd too costly to develop. maybe this is a good thing as it retains the land open and untouched for either nothing to be done or for something in the future.
the existing plans can be seen here
We don’t often stop to think about who decides the fate of these spaces or why they’re left to fall apart. But maybe we should. These forgotten patches of land sit there, crumbling and neglected, waiting for someone to decide they’re worth doing something with. It’s not that we don’t notice—it’s more that we’ve just come to accept it as normal. Spaces are left to decay, caught in some limbo between what they were and what they might become, while the rest of us just keep walking by, hardly questioning the sense of it.
Why don’t we challenge this more? Why do we accept that land, a finite and shared resource, can be managed and manipulated by a minority for financial gain while communities are left with unmet needs? The reality is that we are aware, but we’re trapped within a system that feels absurd and, at times, powerless to change. Perhaps it’s time we push harder, ask more questions, and demand a reimagining of the spaces we call home.
Or is it best to leave as it is - the dereliction itself has value as a site of resistance or critique—a reminder of the system’s failures. In this sense, leaving the land untouched might serve as a more radical gesture than transforming it into a space that conforms to the communal or ecological ideals.
