There’s a peculiar visual sense that living in a large city gives you. Everything is foreshortened. The buildings loom over you. The constant presence of cars, cyclists, other people leaves a cramped sense of space, an eternal end-of-your-nose vigilance. Perhaps more so in London, home now for a decade, with its high density of low-level housing, its crumbling infrastructure, its ancient alleyways and winding streets. You get a different sense of space again new, or planned cities. New York with it criss-crossing avenues, the giant building all seeming to reflect our own image back to us. Paris has its wide boulevards. Budapest, its grand vistas, the giant sweep of the Danube driving through its heart.
Notes on sight
Notes on sight
Notes on sight
There’s a peculiar visual sense that living in a large city gives you. Everything is foreshortened. The buildings loom over you. The constant presence of cars, cyclists, other people leaves a cramped sense of space, an eternal end-of-your-nose vigilance. Perhaps more so in London, home now for a decade, with its high density of low-level housing, its crumbling infrastructure, its ancient alleyways and winding streets. You get a different sense of space again new, or planned cities. New York with it criss-crossing avenues, the giant building all seeming to reflect our own image back to us. Paris has its wide boulevards. Budapest, its grand vistas, the giant sweep of the Danube driving through its heart.