{"id":71651,"date":"2026-02-10T22:23:51","date_gmt":"2026-02-10T19:23:51","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.peyzax.com\/the-vanishing-of-play-between-concrete\/"},"modified":"2026-02-12T10:22:54","modified_gmt":"2026-02-12T07:22:54","slug":"the-vanishing-of-play-between-concrete","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.peyzax.com\/en\/the-vanishing-of-play-between-concrete\/","title":{"rendered":"The Vanishing of Play Between Concrete"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

We\u2019re wedged between enormous slabs of concrete. Between facades that are tall, glossy, perfectly smooth\u2026 Even the sound of children sometimes disappears without an echo\u2014because there\u2019s no void left to carry that echo. \n \nThere was a time when we thought what we called \u201cthe city\u201d was the street, and what we called the street was life itself. Now the city feels more like a corridor we simply pass through; a circulation diagram that links enclosed parking garages to elevators, to security gates. \n \nSo where do children fit into this diagram? At the edge of the map\u2014off to the side, in a corner that has been \u201cdeemed suitable.\u201d And of course on signs as well: \u201cChildren\u2019s Park.\u201d How easily we say it. Park. Play. Child. Three words, and we soothe our conscience.<\/p>\n\n

There\u2019s little greenery left for us. If any remains, it\u2019s only a tiny trace at the edge of our sight. If it remains, it remains in a pot on the windowsill. Sometimes it survives as the make-up of a housing complex landscape: two strips of lawn, three stunted trees, and, in the middle, a noble olive tree\u2026 a layout that looks \u201cwell-kept,\u201d yet feels like plastic the moment you touch it. Children touching soil, getting to know mud, being able to bend and twist a branch without snapping it, feeling the weight of stones in their hands, standing at the edge of a pit and saying \u201cif water filled this, it would become a lake\u201d\u2026 These have turned into luxuries of the city. And what I call a luxury is, in fact, the most basic human state: to make contact, to explore, to try, to fall, to get back up<\/strong>. For a child, play is exactly that. Yet we sterilized play. We packaged play. We delivered play like a product that comes with a warranty certificate (See Figure 1).<\/p>\n\n

\"Winter
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Fig. 1.<\/strong> Winter conditions in a children\u2019s playground, Muhsin Yaz\u0131c\u0131o\u011flu Park, Erzurum (23 March 2024)<\/p> \n \n<\/div> \n<\/div> \n<\/div> \n<\/div> \n<\/div> \n<\/div> \n<\/article><\/div><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n

Worse still: as we reduced green space, we narrowed play as well. Cities grew, childhood shrank. I could phrase that sentence like a poet, but this is not about poetry; it\u2019s about a choice we repeat every single day. Huge projects, huge roads, huge interchanges. \u201cCrazy projects\u201d everywhere, and it\u2019s as if we\u2019ve all gone a little mad, becoming fanatics of capitalism\u2026 \n \nAnd what\u2019s set aside for children in our cities is usually \u201cleftover pieces.\u201d A gap is found on the plan; into it go two swings, a slide, and a brightly colored surface\u2026 Then comes the line: \u201cWe did it for the children.\u201d It gets marketed as a prestige project. Is the child\u2019s right only as large as whatever is left over after our own comfort? \n \nWhile the city\u2019s most expensive square meters are reserved for cars, billboards, and shopfronts, the place that falls to children is often a patch with no shade, no protection from the wind; a space that turns to ice in winter and burns in summer. \n<\/p>\n\n

Creativity Needs Uncertainty<\/h2>\n\n

The presence of a park doesn\u2019t prove that everything has been done right. As the number increases, justice doesn\u2019t necessarily increase. In fact, sometimes as the number goes up, the content becomes even more uniform. The same play set, the same color, the same plastic\u2026 One almost wishes the system produced the children in factories too: copy-and-paste children\u2026 as if the same childhood is being lived in every neighborhood. \n \nYet what we call play is the child rebuilding the world in their own language. A stick becomes a sword, stones become \u201cmoney,\u201d a slope is declared a \u201cmountain,\u201d a shrub is named a \u201cforest.\u201d Creativity needs a bit of uncertainty. It needs a bit of emptiness. It needs flexibility, so the child can write their own scenario. \n \nBut when we build \u201cplay areas\u201d for children, we often impose the \u201cplay scenario\u201d as well. Slide here, swing there, spin here, get off there\u2026 And that\u2019s it. The play ends. The child doesn\u2019t end, but the play ends.<\/p>\n\n

We can talk about this as a \u201cdesign\u201d issue. Yes, a design issue. But the real issue is where our heart and our mind choose to stand in the city. Who are we building the city for? For the car, or for the human? And when we say \u201chuman,\u201d do we also mean the child, the most fragile form of being human? \n \nHow does a child take part in the city? How does a child read the city? A city designed at an adult\u2019s eye level turns into a huge sense of unfamiliarity in a child\u2019s world. The curb feels too high, speed frightens, noise drowns things out, the crowd crushes.<\/mark><\/strong>The child becomes a guest in the city. And even being a guest has a time limit. After a while, the feeling of \u201chome\u201d fades. That\u2019s when the street stops being the child\u2019s street; the street becomes only a line you pass through.<\/p>\n\n

The same play set, the same color, the same plastic\u2026 Sometimes I catch myself thinking: if only this system also produced its children in factories\u2026 copy after copy\u2026 as if the same childhood is being lived in every neighborhood. But what we call play is the child rebuilding the world in their own language. \n<\/p><\/blockquote><\/figure>\n\n

We lost the streets. And as we lost the streets, we lost play as well. That\u2019s why we took refuge in children\u2019s parks. We replaced the street with the park. But the park was never the same thing as the street; it only made sense together with the street. \n \nGoing to the park used to be a ritual; something would happen on the way. Now the park is not a destination, but a compensation. A place we take a child just so \u201cthey can get outside.\u201d In winter, we can\u2019t take them anyway. In the rain, we can\u2019t take them anyway. In the evening, we can\u2019t take them anyway. The child becomes like a being whose life in the city is restricted according to the seasons. \n \nYet what we call a season is, for a child, a learning ground: the sound of the wind, the scent of a flower, the texture of a leaf, the warmth of the sun. We brought the seasons indoors too. We handed the child\u2019s relationship with nature over to the light of screens. And then we complain that \u201cthe new generation is too digital.\u201d We gave them the digital. We took the soil away. \n<\/p>\n\n

Defending children\u2019s rights in the city is, in many ways, defending a right to place. The child\u2019s right to belong to the city\u2026 And that doesn\u2019t end with building a park. \n \nIt also means safe streets a child can walk on, routes they can cycle, the possibility of going to school alone, the courage to knock on a friend\u2019s door, a small pocket of \u201cspatial freedom\u201d in the neighborhood that feels like it\u2019s theirs. If these are missing, a park on its own becomes nothing more than consolation. \n \nAnd if a park exists but its content is monotonous and it suffocates creativity, then the park still isn\u2019t enough. Because a child is not only releasing energy; a child is also building meaning. Play is as much a way of thinking as it is physical movement.<\/p>\n\n

When we say that today\u2019s playgrounds kill creativity, some people think we\u2019re exaggerating. \u201cCome on,\u201d they say, \u201ca slide is a slide.\u201d No. A slide is not just a slide. A slide can be an object, yes, but play is not the object itself. Play is the relationship built with the object. \n \nIf you reduce that relationship to a single template, you narrow the child\u2019s capacity to imagine. In places where everything is predetermined, the child becomes a \u201cuser,\u201d not a \u201cmaker.\u201d And if they can\u2019t be a maker, they can\u2019t be a maker in the city either. They can\u2019t claim the city as their own. They can\u2019t negotiate with it.<\/mark><\/strong>They can\u2019t even imagine that a place might change according to them. \n \nYet the city, in essence, is the product of exactly this negotiation: different needs, different speeds, different ages, being able to live together.<\/p>\n\n

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Perhaps the heaviest issue is this: we don\u2019t place the child at the center of urban planning; we turn the child into an \u201cafterthought\u201d of urban planning. And then we hang posters that say \u201cchild-friendly city.\u201d But a child-friendly city cannot be built with symbols alone. A child-friendly city lives in the language of decisions. It shows up in the lines of the budget. It sits in the priorities of the zoning plan. \n \nIt is present in the width of a sidewalk, in the placement of a crosswalk, in whether a speed limit can actually be enforced. A child-friendly city allows a child to make mistakes, because a child learns by making mistakes. We, on the other hand, lock the child indoors to bring mistakes down to zero. Yes, mistakes drop to zero; but learning drops to zero as well.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We imagine what is good. A beautiful landscape, good air, a clean environment, and humane people\u2026 But we stop at imagining. That is the part that wounds me the most. We don\u2019t call what we imagine a \u201cright.\u201d We don\u2019t call it a \u201cdemand.\u201d We don\u2019t call it a \u201cstruggle.\u201d As if what is good will come to us on its own. \n \nYet the city doesn\u2019t become better on its own. The city leans toward where the powerful choose to stand. A child is powerless. A child doesn\u2019t vote. A child doesn\u2019t generate rent. A child doesn\u2019t increase the value of a plot of land; in fact, to some, a child \u201cproduces noise.\u201d That\u2019s why defending children\u2019s rights is also, in a way, speaking against \u201cpower.\u201d It means unsettling things a little. It means being able to say, \u201cJust because it has always been this way doesn\u2019t mean it has to stay this way.\u201d<\/mark><\/strong><\/p>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n

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Figure 2. <\/strong>Children socializing on the steps of a playground, Erzurum (9 April 2024)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n

As Mehmet Emin Da\u015f, I don\u2019t think this is only an aesthetic debate. Landscape architecture is not simply about planting trees; landscape architecture should also be a representative of spatial justice that organizes life. \n \nA child\u2019s right in the city should be one of the most fundamental concerns of landscape. Because landscape builds what is public, and what is public is the place where a child ties themselves to the future. If the child becomes invisible in public space, then an adult who will defend the public in the future doesn\u2019t really grow up either. A society whose childhood has been narrowed ends up narrowing its tomorrows too.<\/p>\n\n

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Figure 3. <\/strong>A children\u2019s playground in Aziziye, Erzurum (10 March 2024)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n

So what are we going to do? Will we talk about the number of parks again? About square meters again? Of course we have to measure; what we don\u2019t measure can\u2019t be managed. But alongside measurement, we also need a scale of conscience.<\/mark><\/strong> \n \nIn every neighborhood, a high-quality green space that a child can reach within five minutes\u2026 I\u2019m choosing the word \u201cquality\u201d very deliberately. Quality means shade, safety, maintenance, seasonal usability, material variety, the presence of natural elements, opportunities for free play, contact with water and soil, and the pedagogical ability to manage small risks. Quality means allowing a child to build themselves. \n \nA play space shouldn\u2019t offer only equipment; it should also offer elements that generate scenarios: loose materials (stones, sticks, pinecones), topography, small mounds, hiding corners, vegetative texture, and surfaces that change with the seasons. Spaces that are too sterile, too smooth, too \u201cdisciplined\u201d don\u2019t make the child safer; they make the child more fragile.<\/p>\n\n

Increasing green space is not only a matter of \u201chow many trees\u201d either. Green space should be imagined as a network, like a living web. Parks shouldn\u2019t be islands; they should be life corridors that connect to one another. A child should be able to walk from one place to another. \n<\/p>\n\n

And there is also the language of playgrounds\u2026 We often give children brightly colored equipment, yet we offer them a world that is intellectually grey. A play space should invite a child\u2019s imagination; it shouldn\u2019t say, \u201cHere, you can only do this.\u201d Design should increase the child\u2019s questions: \u201cWhat is this?\u201d, \u201cWhere does this lead?\u201d, \u201cHow do I use this?\u201d, \u201cWhat happens if I flip it over?\u201d These questions are the first lessons of urban literacy in a child\u2019s mind. Yet we take urban literacy away from the child from the very beginning (See Figure 4). \n<\/p>\n\n

\"Children
Figure 4.<\/strong> Introduction \u2013 Children playing with water at Tav\u015fanl\u0131 Park, Erzurum (23 July 2014)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n
\"Children
Figure 5.<\/strong> Development \u2013 Children playing with water at Tav\u015fanl\u0131 Park, Erzurum (23 July 2014)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n
\"Children
Figure 6.<\/strong> Conclusion \u2013 Children playing with water at Tav\u015fanl\u0131 Park, Erzurum (23 July 2014)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n

Perhaps the simplest, yet most effective starting point is this: listening to the child. Learning what play is from children themselves. Letting go of the adult habit of declaring, \u201cThis is what play is.\u201d Trying a play street in the neighborhood. Lowering traffic speed during certain hours of the week. Reconfiguring a street according to the child\u2019s body and imagination. Play shouldn\u2019t be confined to the park. Play should spill out into the street. Because the street is the heart of the city. A city without a heart is nothing but an order of concrete.<\/p>\n\n

Sometimes I find myself thinking: when we imagine what is good\u2026 maybe what is good is actually something we remember. It existed before. Autumn existed, summer existed, orange existed. Children\u2019s knees were scraped, but their eyes were bright. Now the knees are clean, and the eyes are tired. Somewhere along the way, we did something wrong.<\/strong> \n \nCan we still fix it? Maybe. But first, we need to say one sentence honestly: we, with our own hands, narrowed children\u2019s right to the city. And what we narrowed, we will have to widen again. No one will do it in our place.<\/p>\n\n

Like good bread\u2026 a good city also takes labor. A good city is a future earned honestly. A city built with children in mind is not only better for children; it is better for everyone. Because traffic slowed down for a child is safer for an older person too. Shade increased for a child is cooler for an adult as well. Greenery multiplied for a child is everyone\u2019s breath. \n \nDefending a child\u2019s right to the city is, in the end, defending the right to life itself.<\/p>\n\n

And I don\u2019t want to leave this right to \u201cone day.\u201d Because childhood doesn\u2019t wait. Childhood can\u2019t be postponed. Childhood is lived today. If it is taken from us today, it won\u2019t come back tomorrow. \n<\/p>\n\n

(All photographs were taken by the author.)<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

We\u2019re wedged between enormous slabs of concrete. Between facades that are tall, glossy, perfectly smooth\u2026 Even the sound of children sometimes disappears without an echo\u2014because...<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":71641,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":"","_wp_rev_ctl_limit":""},"categories":[5310,4975,4948],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-71651","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-child","category-column-articles","category-editors-pick"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.peyzax.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/71651","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.peyzax.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.peyzax.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.peyzax.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.peyzax.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=71651"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.peyzax.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/71651\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.peyzax.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/71641"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.peyzax.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=71651"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.peyzax.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=71651"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.peyzax.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=71651"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}