From late antiquity until the nineteenth century the Italian peninsula was made up of numerous states and city-states, governed as republics, or ruled by kings, dukes or popes. While diverse attempts were made to unify these disparate political entities through language and culture, or warfare and realpolitik, the dominant situation was one of intense rivalry and intermittent conflict. That uniquely Italian idea of campanilismo, or pride in one's own bell-tower, was borne of this continuous rivalry. It encapsulates an important concept, that local pride was inscribed in the physical fabric of the city, that a bell-tower could stand for a collective sense of one city's self-image and that this was expressed and calibrated in relation to neighbours, who were usually rivals. It is within this frame of references that much recent scholarship on urban image and identity has focused, teasing out the intentional distinctions that were drawn socio-politically and culturally, between the major centres of the peninsula. Such a process has significantly altered the view, dominant until quite recently, that style in art and architecture followed a single evolutionary route that passed from one place to another, as each lived a ‘golden age’ that defined a single ‘urban’ school – Siena, Venice, Florence, Rome, Bologna. In its place, a more nuanced view of how each centre fostered, reacted, responded and adopted innovation and change has come to the fore. In a generation of scholarship that followed Michael Baxandall's ground-breaking Painting and Experience, the idea that Renaissance Italians consciously fashioned urban images and identities has entered the mainstream. Scholars have put artworks and buildings back into close relation with the social contexts of their production and have asked how they worked in relation to their users and viewers.

The descriptions of small towns in John Leland's Itinerary provide valuable evidence about their economic functions and fortunes in a period often categorized as one of urban decline. Leland described markets, ports, industries, buildings and transport links. He identified examples of small towns expanding, through new commercial and industrial opportunities, notably cloth manufacture, as well as others in decline, and suggested that investment by entrepreneurs and benefactors had enabled some small towns to prosper. These experiences reflected both the particular functions of individual towns and their role in wider regional economies.

Though the phrase ‘public services’ is a nineteenth-century invention, which was supported by a developed rhetoric of political economy, this article shows that the concept, practice and supply of such services could also be found in the medieval city. It specifically analyses three areas of urban service provision: jurisprudence and legal security, infrastructure and finally health care and poor relief. Although the available sources tend to stress the involvement of municipal authorities in providing public services, it turns out that in fact the furnishing of services was highly multi-layered. In all three areas studied, a wide range of public and private institutions offered services to specific groups within late medieval urban society. In contrast to what the notion of ‘public services’ lets us presume, however, public services in the medieval city were not available to all inhabitants. Instead, the provision of services was usually quite restrictive, and targeted particular groups in society.

This article explores the intricate relationship between guidebooks and place-making in an early modern Chinese city, Nanjing. Despite all apparent similarity to a modern guidebook, the seventeenth-century guidebook Jinling tuyong (Illustrated Odes on Nanjing) offers no information regarding shopping, dining or lodging; instead, it catalogues all the possible experiences of sites in and around the city. Such a concentrated focus on spatial experiences brings to light an important change in the social role of guidebooks in sixteenth- and seventeenth-century China. As landscape appreciation developed into an important venue for status performance and social networking, the representation of space became an integral element to the construction of urban communities. In the case of Tuyong, its images even supplied a critical source of cultural continuity for Nanjing-neses during transition between the Ming and Qing empires, a finding that sheds a new light on the links between urban space and empire and serves as a useful entry for cross-cultural comparison.

This article examines the problem of illicit labour from the perspective of transformations in the (local) distribution channels. Rather than large masters circumventing the guilds’ rules regarding labour market entry or large merchants shifting from a Kauf to a Verlag system, early modern manufacturing guilds in Antwerp confronted mercers and wholesalers who entered into production without being masters. In response, the guilds extended their rules, so that their regulations actually matured in the course of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Rather than (labour market) deregulation and proto-industrialization, the issue was the disappearance of the straightforward link between production and retailing, tied together by mastership.

In 1522, the artisan festive ‘kingdom’ of the Biliemme put up the biggest street tabernacle in Florence. German textile workers were behind the tabernacle and this article argues that, at a time of crisis for German workers, these men looked to reassert their place in Florence through their participation in a citywide artisan festive subculture. Forty years later, Germans in the Biliemme district had largely been replaced by textile migrants from other parts of Italy. Nonetheless the kingdom remained a important vehicle for creating neighbourhood solidarities and for incorporating these new migrants into the artisan and civic world.

Based on how notions of civil society and civic virtue were defined in Enlightenment Scotland, this article assesses how far these ideals shaped police development in Scottish towns, c. 1780–1833. It argues that both concepts provided a framework for the development of ‘police’ as a broad mechanism of urban government. Collectively, civil society and civic virtue offered a wide-ranging, intellectual backdrop presupposing ideas on police, improvement and polite society, with the new police model bearing a striking resemblance to how these ideals were imagined and constructed at the time.

Despite the fact that sporting spaces reflect key shifts in thinking about town planning, sports architecture is still an underexplored area in the historiography of urban design. The architects, engineers and designers attempting to regenerate and rejuvenate cities after World War II were aware of the popular interest in competitive sports. Stadia and landscape design were intended to help erase the negative urban images of nationalism and totalitarianism. By starting a dialogue with the past, town planners questioned the grandeur and monumentalism prevalent in architecture since the late nineteenth century. They sought to rediscover and redefine the modern.

Historians of early modern Italy have traditionally viewed the city's public spaces, such as streets, quarters, taverns and marketplaces, as the chief locations in which claims to identity were launched into the broader urban community. Recent studies on the domestic interior, however, have shown that the distinction between ‘public’ and ‘private’ in the fifteenth- and sixteenth-century urban space was much more complex. In this period, private urban houses became sites for an increasing range of social acitvities that varied from informal evening gatherings to large wedding banquets. Focusing on this ‘public’ dimension of the private urban house, this article explores how the middling classes of artisans and shopkeepers used the domestic space to construct identities and to facilitate social relations in sixteenth-century Siena. The aim is to show that in providing a setting for differing forms of economic and social activity, the urban home together with its objects and furnishings may have provided an increasingly important physical location for craftsmen, shop-owners and traders to negotaite individual and collective identities within the broader communities of the city.

This article addresses the morphological and functional implications of the railway as an urban boundary, by studying seven towns in Romania, connected by the First Transylvanian Railway (1868–70). The research highlights similarities and differences as to the initial railway insertion, the subsequent growth patterns and the differentiation appearing between areas adjoining the railway tracks. The article argues that although a ‘wrong side of the track’ did not emerge everywhere, the segregation and lack of urban amenities affecting the areas which could be thus labelled is rooted in the failure to render the railway barrier permeable and to generate complementarity rather than subordination between the two sides of the track.

The Moscow Luzhniki stadia (1954–56) were constructed at the beginning of Khrushchev's reforms as a representative object to launch a rejuvenated and modernized socialism. The article seeks to situate the stadia complex in the crucial processes of urban transformation that occurred in the post-war Soviet Union; in questioning the Stalin monumental style, the planning of Luzhniki opened a more relational understanding of public space to Soviet people.

During the sixteenth century, antiquarians increasingly developed a self-conscious identity as a professional group with specific social, intellectual and artisan skills. Their activity was not linked to a particular place though: antiquities surfaced from the earth both inside and outside the city walls and were traded in streets, squares, private houses and gardens. Using the Stampa brothers as a case-study, this article investigates the role and commercial strategies of antiquarians and their ability to cross the boundaries of social groups, since they had to deal with artisans, peasants and artists on one side, and cardinals and gentlemen on the other.

In the Wilhelmine era (1871–1918) the Krupp steel company developed into Germany's largest industrial establishment and most famous armaments manufacturer. While the firm further cultivated its reputation as ‘Cannon Kings’, it claimed to be a leader in an entirely different area: the provision of housing. Extensively marketed through company publications, displays at international exhibitions and its Besucherpolitik (visitor policy), Krupp's housing developments in Essen generated considerable domestic and international interest. During a period when the housing question increasingly entered the political realm, high-profile individuals such as Kurt Eisner, Hannes Meyer and Alfred von Tirpitz all passionately expressed their views on Krupp's housing developments. This article assesses their historically neglected first-hand observations against the quantitative and qualitative housing achievements of the steel giant.

The article analyses the diffusion of artificial grottoes in Genoa during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries in terms of their role in the construction of the ruling oligarchy's social identity. No other artistic genre offered a more effective means for bankers and merchants to flaunt their wealth and their network of international contacts. Grottoes comprising expensive corals and exotic shells functioned as a strategic marketing device whose cost and splendour satisfied not only the discerning humanist but also made a profound impression upon non-expert guests who were, first and foremost, potential future business clients.

This article focuses on Otl Aicher's design and Günther Grzimek's garden architecture for the 1972 Munich Olympics. We argue that the functionalist aesthetics of the Munich Olympic site should be interpreted as a translation into graphic and landscape design of 1960s progressivism in West German society and democracy. In the process Aicher and Grzimek somewhat paradoxically drew on the tradition of the Olympic Gesamtkunstwerk inaugurated in Berlin in 1936.

This article evaluates the inherent ambiguity of the landmark Park Hill housing estate in Sheffield, England. Incorporating Foucault's theories on governmentality and biopolitics, this article explores how techniques of power and control radically affected the way this building was both used and viewed. It shows how conflicting discourses about human needs and desires influenced the way that subjects were housed, managed and regulated in Sheffield during the supposedly homogeneous welfare-state years.

The 1964 Tokyo Olympics acted as a rite of passage for post-war Japan, symbolizing the modernization of the city and the country. This was reflected by the space and architecture of the venues. Urban development of Olympic cities has been scrutinized recently but the symbolic implications have been touched upon only in passing, most especially in Tokyo's case. This article will show how symbolic layers of architecture and space aimed at linking history and modernity while bypassing the highly problematic legacy of ultra-nationalism and World War II. An important hub for transmitting this message was the Meiji Shrine dedicated to the first emperor of modern Japan. The hallmark building of the 1964 Games, Kenzo Tange's National Gymnasium, interacted with the shrine by way of an architectonic axis connecting them. This contrasted with the different spatial styles evident at the 1960 Olympics in Rome and 1972 Olympics in Munich, which testified to their different relationships to the national past. While developing infrastructure such as canalization and traffic was very important for Tokyo, symbolic revitalization of the city's fabric was equally crucial.