44 Great Ormond Street, London. 1740Fearsome thickets of iron railings protected houses in the London squares: a precise division between the private and public, the anarchy of the public domain and the owned. Most of these were taken down in World War II in a drive to collect scrap metal to build tanks. There is much discussion on WWII forums about whether the railings were ever used: they had a high carbon and sulphur content evidently, and so not that suitable for re-use. The urban consequences were significant, all those taut blank Georgian façades without their delicate filigreed bases appear quite obdurate. The six-foot transition between public and private that was negotiated by the railings, now takes place, abruptly, at the door itself.
Typical prairie city streets, even in the early 1980s, were completely fenced. There was the street, then the boulevard, then the sidewalk, then the fence, then the front yard, then the door. Calgary pickets in the 1920s and 30s when my fence was built came from the Sarcee Reserve, a three township block of land that runs from southwest Calgary 18 miles deep into the foothills, heavily forested. Now known as the Tsuu T'ina First Nation they do other things, such as casinos and golf courses. But earlier they supplied the whole city with firewood and fence pickets.
Pickets aren't that available anymore. It is easier to cut them yourself, but not as efficient. And impossible to get some of the more elegant shapes, curved, punched and notched – doilies for the front edge of the property.
picket fence culture. 11th Avenue, Southeast Calgary.