Brandon Donnelly — Daily insights for city builders. Published since 2013 by Toronto-based real estate developer Brandon Donnelly. — Page 462

A lot less people are buying NFTs today compared to last year. But that's okay, everything will be fine. So let's talk about some of the characteristics of NFT marketplaces and how they differ from real estate marketplaces today:

• When you create or "mint" an NFT, you are doing so on a particular blockchain, such as on the Ethereum blockchain. You might do that minting through a marketplace like OpenSea, but at the end of the day, your NFT now lives on a public blockchain and not on private OpenSea.

• What that means is that if OpenSea suddenly decides to do something bad that you don't like (I am in no way picking on OpenSea), you can simply stop using them and just access and trade your NFTs from some other marketplace. As I understand it, there are also lots of smart people working on blockchain interoperability.

• Once you have your NFT on a blockchain, you can choose, through various applications, to list it for sale, run auctions with a reserve price, or just hold it and do nothing, among other things. You can also set it up so that any proceeds from a future sale are automatically split with someone else -- maybe they are a co-creator of the NFT that you minted.

• Whether you've decided to list your NFT for sale or not, there is also the option for the market to make unsolicited offers on it. It is up to you whether or not you'd like to accept any of the offers, but in all cases the offers you receive are made fully public to the market. As a bidder, it's easy to hide behind "burner" wallets, but you generally can't hide real intent.

• If/when you do sell, that sale becomes public record for all to see. The blockchain never forgets and it doesn't matter which marketplace you decide to use.

In some real estate markets, it's fairly easy to see the sales history of a property. But in other markets, such as here in Toronto, it's still fairly gated. Generally speaking, you are accessing a controlled database and so you need to abide by whatever rules might be in place. If you want to build a new application on top of your local real estate board's database, that is going to be tricky and it will likely involve more than a few lawyers.

It is, however, fun to imagine how this might all change with public blockchains. And I think that NFT marketplaces do offer some clues in terms of what could happen to our real estate markets.

Consider this potentially unexpected scenario:

In the world of NFTs, there is something known as creator royalties. And they function just as you might expect. As the creator of an NFT, you can set a royalty % that gets paid to you each and every time the NFT is sold. And because the blockchain never forgets, you never have to worry about enforcing and collecting your royalty fee. It just gets automatically distributed.

Now imagine a world where people like the architect and the developer of a new property are able to attach their own creator royalties. This would be massively cumbersome to administer today, but it's entirely straightforward once you've got everything on a blockchain. And it would be a huge boon for business models that today do not benefit from reoccurring revenues.

In theory, it might also better align interests, because if you're a "creator" who wants a good solid royalty fee stream, maybe you're a little more motivated to do good long-term work. Who knows? This model might never actually happen, but I do think it is indicative of the kind of changes and innovations that we might see as crypto continues to filter through the economy.

Is this a true or false statement?

"It is through media, of course, that we primarily consume architecture.”

Witold Rybczynski recently spoke about this on his blog . Initially he thought it was a preposterous statement. But then he begrudgingly accepts that it is actually the case today. This in turn leads to an interesting distinction between what it means to experience architecture versus consume architecture.

The former takes more time. You have to do laborious things like actually be in the space, walk around it, and generally just experience what it's like to be there. Consuming, on the other hand, is much easier. Maybe it's as simple as an image in your social feed that you forward to a friend so that they can in turn respond with a single fire emoji. Cool. Consumption done.

Naturally this distinction translates into different ways of thinking about architecture. In the words of Witold, when you're a consumer of architecture, you want to be "amused, titillated, and entertained." You don't have time for subtleties -- things like tactile materials, historical references, light, and shadow. This is about consuming architecture.

Now, I'm not sure if Witold has given any thought to what web3 and a mixed-reality future will mean for architecture, but it's an obvious and interesting question. Intuitively, one would think that the more time we spend with digitally mediated experiences, the less time we will have to experience architecture the way nature intended it. Though maybe that's not the way to think about this.

I tend to be a bit more rosy about the current state of affairs and the future than Witold, but here are two points. One, consumption allows more people to interact with a piece of architecture. In fact, before writing this post I consumed Studio Gang's recently completed project in Hawaii . It was nice, and maybe one day I will also experience it. That, I agree, would be even nicer.

Two, architecture is always a product of the zeitgeist at the time. Part of its job is to reflect culture and, for better or for worse, speak to who we are as a society. And so if architecture has become effective at reflecting our current milieu, isn't it doing exactly what it is supposed to be doing?

You probably already know this about Hong Kong :

Neon signs exploded in popularity in Hong Kong after World War II, when the city’s economy started to take off led by its manufacturing industry. As consumerism grew, neon signboards became the go-to format of advertising for all kinds of businesses ranging from restaurants to mahjong parlors to pawn shops. In an era where shopping mostly took place on the street level, the biggest and brightest signs got the most attention.

But this component of Hong Kong's aesthetic is rapidly fading. As recent as 2016, it was estimated that there were some 120,000 outdoor signboards, including neon signs, in the city. Today, thousands of neon signs are being removed each year in an effort to "clean up" the city. The result is that about 90% of the city's neon has now been removed. ( Here is an interesting visual essay from Google showing how the city has changed over the years.)

However, it is also partially a case obsolescence. Neon is a dying craft now that we have technologies like LED. And so as sad as it may be, it's hard to imagine a world where Hong Kong ever returns to its former glory as a capital of neon.

Neon signs exploded in the post-war years, but most of them were illegal and I guess some were dangerous by virtue of there being no real enforced standards. But the British clearly didn't care. Signs were good for business and good for capitalism. And so they let them proliferate. But then the handover to China happened, and it would seem that the Chinese care a little more about neon signs.

But I think my favorite part of this story is that the origin of these signs is, of course, informal and utilitarian in nature. It was a case of one person erecting a sign and then a neighbor saying, "hey, your big neon sign is blocking my big neon sign, so I'm now going to make an even bigger and bolder neon sign. Maybe I'll even hang it in the middle of the street." The result was a self-organizing system that ended up creating, through no overarching plan whatsoever, a unique visual language for Hong Kong.

That system is now being systematically erased. But lots of people are working to preserve its various artifacts and to celebrate its cultural legacy. These are all good things. But of course, there are other options. At the end of the day, Hong Kong's visual language is not disappearing because neon is disappearing. It's disappearing because we've decided that is what should happen.