Urban Signs/Signs of The Urban: of Scenes and Streetscapes
Urban Signs/Signs of The Urban: of Scenes and Streetscapes
Urban Signs/Signs of The Urban: of Scenes and Streetscapes
Urban Signs/Signs of the Urban:
Of Scenes and Streetscapes
By Geoff Stahl
The window on the street is not a mental place from which the interior gaze would
be following abstract perspectives. A practical site, private and concrete, the window
offers views that are more than spectacles. Perspectives which are mentally pro-
longed so that the implication of this spectacle carries its explanation. Familiarity
preserves it as it disappears and is reborn, with the everyday life of inside and out.
Opacity and horizons, obstacles and perspectives are implicated, for they become
complicated, imbricate themselves to the point of allowing the Unknown, the giant
city, to be perceived or guessed at. With its diverse spaces affected by diverse tem-
poralities—rhythms. (Henri Lefebvre 1996: 224)
Let me set the scene for this thematic section of Culture Unbound, a collection of
essays dedicated to signs in the city/city of signs, by drawing on a personal reflec-
tion on aspects of two streets I’ve lived on: Montréal’s Boulevard St. Laurent and
Berlin’s Kastanienallee. In both cases, they speak to issues that are germane to the
semiotic power of the city, and do so in ways that frame many of the issues this
section explores in number of different ways.
Between 1997 and 2003, I lived on Blvd St. Laurent, the “Main”, just north of
Pine Ave, which put me at the lower end of the Montréal’s renowned Plateau. For
those unaware of this part of Montréal, this particular intersection can be read as a
symbolic and material incarnation of the social and economic life in Montréal for
a number of reasons. During that time, the shape of the neighbourhood changed
gradually but dramatically. I witnessed these changes through my office window,
from which I could gaze down onto St. Laurent. From there, I watched the steady
rotation of shops, with old stores replaced by new restaurants, discount computer
shops, book stores, and clothing shops. I lived in an area (briefly) nicknamed “Lit-
tle Asia”, an appellation that referred to the many Asian fast food joints that had
appeared on the Main in recent years. Some people lament the disappearance of
the mom and pop shops, delis, kitchenware stores, and bakeries while others see a
street reinvigorated by new waves of immigrant entrepreneurs which have moved
in to stake their claim to the mythical promise the Main has consistently offered
newcomers to the city. Whether negative or positive, these sentiments reiterate the
rich history inscribed into the both the built and imaginary landscape of St.
Laurent.
From my vantage point, further lingering over the streetscape gave up more
evidence of the changes begin wrought on the Main. Although I couldn’t see them
from my window, the three buildings just south of where I lived spoke to the
street’s history and its myths as well. Abandoned as apartments, their first floors--
Stahl, Geoff: ”Urban Signs/Signs of the Urban”, Culture Unbound, Volume 1, 2009: 249–262.
Hosted by Linköping University Electronic Press: http://www.cultureunbound.ep.liu.se
all commercial spaces--eked out an existence that seemed astoundingly resilient
given the apparent lack of interest in their wares. The apartment directly adjacent
to mine was, when I moved in, a punk squat, its first floor occupied by an antique
dealer. About ten years ago, it was renovated, the punks had to find a new home
and the first floor has since become a jewellery shop. Two doors down was the
Pecker Brothers’ kitchenware store, a modest yet cluttered shop filled from floor
to ceiling with poppy seed grinders, teakettles, mops, espresso makers, and other
sundry domestic items, many of which catered to the European shop owners who
used to be regular customers. When Louis Pecker, the last surviving brother and a
man who would gladly regale you with stories of life on the Main during the thir-
ties, retired in 2001, rumours of renovation and condo conversion circulated rap-
idly among the neighbours (which proved to be true). Some years ago, three doors
down, above the now-defunct Mr. Falafel, with its iconic neon sign, the two-
storey apartment abandoned for nearly twenty-five years was gutted by fire, the
result of the ad hoc wiring used to electrify a marijuana “grow room” (run by yet
more squatters). These and other changes are often read as signs, portents some
would say, of things to come for the Main.
After living on St. Laurent, I moved to Prenzlauerberg in Berlin’s former East,
where I settled onto a remarkably similar street. I lived for a year on Kasta-
nienalle, once a modest residential strip, but a street that has lately come to sym-
bolize the strength and vitality of the city’s cultural, entrepreneurial economy.
From this new window, I could see the goings on at the gallery across the street,
the bar life on Schwedter Str., and catch the city’s fashion parade as young people
came and went from local bars, cafés, flohmarkts (fleamarkets), and second-hand
shops. My room was in an old set of flats, the neighbours, former East Berliners
(often called Ossis, or “Easterners”) who could sometimes be seen peering out
onto the street, in seeming awe of the pace of its almost daily transformation.
Many of the other neighbours were involved in the city’s vibrant cultural life,
running record labels, offering graphic design services, curating gallery shows, or
making art and music, such that the building itself seemed to house a microcosm
of the competing and complementary life stories and living ideologies found in
post-Wall Berlin. Even in its layout, the building spoke to the diversity of the
street and by extension the city. The Hinterhof, the rear section of the Mietz-
kaserne which formed the other side of the building’s courtyard, was home to an
odd religious group, who performed shadowy ceremonies on select evenings. In
the front, the cycles of the city’s entrepreneurial economy played out in the café
below and the tiny shop directly beneath my room, changing hands a number of
times in the brief period I was there, the shop transforming itself from tiny record
shop, to a craft shop and most recently to a Vespa store (which it remains). Next
door, on the ground floor still sits a brothel, nestled next to an Asian Imbiss. To
this day, new and used record shops sit alongside cafés that neighbour industrial
design shops which bump up against galleries that sandwich the few remaining
The street’s structure of feeling is evident at the intersection of Ave. des Pins and
St. Laurent, where with a studied gaze one can discern in the hustle and bustle the
competing and complementary rhythms that characterize the social life and un-
derpin the broader urban ambiance of Montréal. The built environment and com-
mercial life reveal the economic cycles of Montréal, as do the periodic move-
ments of immigrants who have left countless traces along the Main. Alongside St.
Laurent’s Arab fruit stand, the Hungarian bakery, the Spanish grocer, the ham-
mock store, the Slovenian deli, the dance clubs, cafés, the piercing and tattoo sa-
lon, the Thai take-away, and the noodle shops, you could find here examples of
what Lefebvre notes are cyclical and linear rhythms of street life. The cyclical, he
suggests, is “social organization manifesting itself”, and the linear is “routine, thus
the perpetual, made up of chance and encounters” (Lefebvre 1996: 222). The mi-
cronarratives of everyday life bump up against the metanarratives of the many
The view that scenes are an effect born out of the dominant logic of capitalism
that drives urban economies fails to address certain social facts. To read scenes
and their signs in this way suggests, following from Blum, a reductive reading of
cultural activity as a superfluous consequence of the larger economic imperatives
of the city, a way of classing them as forms of “false consciousness”, thereby
dismissing them as hollow crucibles for the misguided and alienated and where
politics meets its inevitable attenuation (this is, in part, what Blum suggests
Sharon Zukin’s work does; though the antidote does not necessarily reside in the
bohemian indices put forward by Richard Florida (2005) either, for example). The
rise over the past decade of the “creative city” gives scenes and issues regarding
the culture of cities more salience (O’Connor and Wynne 1996; Scott 2000;
Landry 2004). The significance, in a social, semiotic, economic and thus ideologi-
cal sense, of scenes to cities that have come to rely upon entrepreneurial econo-
mies provides us with plenty of examples of the power of culture to sell cities, but
also the cultural power borne by artists, entrepreneurs as avatars (and opponents)
of neoliberalism (Hall 1997; Hannigan 2003; McRobbie 2004). Scenes in the
“creative city” bear, as well as obscure, an ideological baggage in terms of their
role in the instrumentalization of culture. We may well view scenes in this context
as symptoms of the “creative city” in such a way that their real and imagined vir-
tues and vices invite further analysis, able to enrich our readings of the cultural
life of cities as it exists, for example, under new economic orders. The social
power of the scenes flourishing on Kastanienallee and St. Laurent cannot be dis-
missed out of hand, in other words. What has been referred to as their semiotic
excess and intensity point towards a complex set of relationships (Shank 1994;
Straw 1991). This is a constellation bound up in attachments to place, and to oth-
ers, as well as to cultural, social, aesthetic, economic and political practices which
cannot be easily discounted in terms of their ability to ratify the diversity of indi-
vidual and collective life possible in the city.
The streetscape and its numerous scenes remain an urban trope, topos and part
of its typology that can be made to say a great deal about a city, its people, its his-
tories and its culture. The socio-semiotic value of St. Laurent and Kastanienallee
may also be better understood by putting them into relation with one another.
There are social, material and symbolic resonances that allow contrast and com-
parison. This is not least because they often figure as centres of creative life in
their respective national imaginaries. They can be thought about together through
This special section of Culture Unbound: “City Signs/Signs of the City” is a col-
lection of essays that deals with the semiotic push and pull of cities, or what Ro-
land Barthes has referred to as the city’s “semantic force” (Barthes 1986: 91). It
gathers together articles that deal with the city of signs and signs of the city, in the
broadest sense of these terms. Each in their own way works through the city as a
repository of signs and resident sign systems, as a signifying vehicle itself. As
these essays attest, by virtue of its promiscuous generation of meaning the city has
long existed as an object constituted by and constitutive of the modern gaze, a
communicative device, social medium, and pole around which a diverse range of
practices, meaningful acts and acts of meaning, can coalesce.
In terms of the contemporary city, with its shifting value, function and meaning,
Lewis Mumford’s by-now famous rhetorical question “What is a city?” still reso-
nates as a starting point when it comes to interrogating the city (Mumford 1996).
The answer, or answers, can of course only ever be provisional, of the moment,
and only provide insight into certain dimensions of city life. As many of these
articles indicate, signification in the contemporary city has acquired a different
kind of resonance, particularly around issues of culture, urban branding, policies,
planning and development, heritage and histories, tourism, media forms, mediated
spaces and technologies. This is such that Mumford’s question, and those posed
by Damisch and Krampen above, are still germane to current debates, discussions
and interrogations of urban culture, helping to enunciate in their own way what
Alan Blum has referred to as the city’s “fundamental ambiguity” (Blum 2003).
While the authors gathered here do not address the topic of urban semiotics di-
rectly, this thematic section recalls some of the works collected by Mark Gottdie-
ner and Alexander Lagopoulos’ The City and the Sign (1986). As an inspiration
for this current section, this collection of seminal essays on urban semiotics offers
a cogent, and critically reflective, foundation for the study of signs in the city. The
work of Roland Barthes, Umberto Eco, A. J. Greimas, and Raymond Ledrut,
among others, forms the basis for what the editors refer to as a socio-semiotics of
the city, in which power congeals into a range of sign systems, from monuments,
As a symbol system, the city and its images are produced, in Lefebvre’s sense,
according to a host of interests whereby denotative and connotative levels of sig-
nification are entwined and new species of urban mythologies, mythographies and
place-images emerge (Lefebvre 1991, 1996; Lindner 2007; Shields 1991). These
representations generate yet more valences, signifying practices flourishing in the
city in what Lefebvre refers to as lived, conceived and perceived prisms, or, more
specifically, as, experiential, imagined, and ideological frameworks (1991).
Within these frameworks, and amid the busyness of urban semiosis, powerful
vested interests and myriad practices of resistance work to encode, decode and
recode the city’s sign systems. Semiotics in this sense acts as an entry point for a
focused ideological analysis, out of which can emerge a carefully considered ex-
amination of the city and its multifarious signifying practices and systems, aspects
of signification tied to power, both top down and bottom up, that are taken up in
the following essays.
Culture in the city is the primary object here: lived culture, cultural production,
and the consumption of culture. Working through these miscellaneous dimensions
of culture, material and symbolic, the authors included in this thematic section
have provided a range of approaches to the semiotics of the city. Luc Pauwels
offers the first foray into the city, via a photo essay that ruminates on the nature of
urban discourse and signification. His semiotic reference points give us a consid-
eration of the links and disconnects found between sociology and photography,
two practices which are historically linked to the representation of the modern
city. Pauwels provides a snapshot, many in fact, of the tension between detach-
ment and investment in terms of how the city is framed as both utopia and dysto-
pia.
Christopher Kelen’s reflection on poetic representations of Macau grapples
with the residues of Portuguese presence in China. As he notes, while generally
not understood as a colony and more as an enclave, the ways in which space is
represented and negotiated in a literary context are telling ones, and he draws
upon Auge’s notion of “non-place” to explore the distinction between what he
calls “Macao space” and “anywhere space”. The figures of the gambler and the
beggar, as they come through in a selection of poems depicting urban life in
Macau, Kelen uses as a preface to a discussion of the specificities of these spaces
and the way in which they express a new order of consumption (of images, things,
places).
A different, but related form of investment is considered in Sophie Esmann An-
dersen and Anne Ellerup Nielsen’s conceptual framework, designed to address the