As designers, we spend much of our time creating places from behind a screen. Plans, details, visualisations and construction drawings are all essential parts of the process, but they can never fully replace experiencing places firsthand. Every now and then it's important to step away from the office, walk through unfamiliar cities and simply observe how people use public space.
Recently Jessica and I travelled through Italy and the United Kingdom on what became a self-directed study tour. While skateparks were certainly on the itinerary, so too were historic towns, public squares, transport hubs, parks and streets. Looking back now that we're home, I realise the biggest lessons weren't actually about skatepark design. They were about people, movement and how different cultures shape the places they inhabit.
Our journey began in Italy, spending time in places such as Spello, Assisi and Perugia. Like many visitors, I was struck by the beauty of the architecture, but after a few days I found myself paying more attention to the details that often go unnoticed.
The way a stone stair met a narrow laneway. The change in paving where one public space transitioned into another. The way planting softened hard edges without ever feeling forced. None of these elements were remarkable on their own, yet together they created places with an incredible sense of character.
What impressed me most was how naturally people occupied these spaces. Streets weren't simply corridors to move through; they were extensions of people's homes and workplaces. Cafés spilled into small piazzas, neighbours stopped for conversations in laneways, and people seemed content to slow down rather than rush from one destination to the next. It reinforced the idea that public spaces are ultimately shaped by the people who use them. Good design supports those behaviours rather than trying to dictate them.
Even a quick session at the skatepark in Perugia, despite 35-degree heat that quickly reminded us we weren't acclimatised, became another reminder that recreation is simply another layer of everyday life within the city rather than something entirely separate.
Arriving in London shifted my perspective almost immediately.
What stood out wasn't the buildings or even the public spaces themselves. It was the people. The sheer number of people constantly moving through the city was unlike anything I'm accustomed to in New Zealand. Every station, footpath, park and public square seemed to be in continuous motion, yet there was an underlying order to it all.
Watching places like King's Cross operate made me appreciate how differently public spaces need to function in high-density cities. They aren't just destinations; they're pieces of infrastructure that have to absorb enormous volumes of movement while still creating opportunities for people to pause, gather, eat lunch, watch others or simply enjoy being there.
It reinforced that successful public spaces aren't defined by a particular style or aesthetic. They're defined by how well they respond to the context in which they exist.
The UK leg of the trip included visits to Southbank, Stockwell, Gatti Park, Newham, Finsbury Park, Buszy Skate Plaza, F51 Folkestone, Epping, Oxhey Activity Park and several others. Each had its own character, but after talking with local skaters and spending time observing how the parks were used, a few themes began to emerge.
One of the biggest surprises was how often people recommended the simpler parks. I expected many conversations to revolve around the largest or most technically advanced facilities, yet parks such as Newham and Finsbury were repeatedly mentioned because they simply worked. Open layouts, restrained feature selection and generous circulation allowed people to skate creatively without feeling constrained by the design itself.
That observation resonated strongly with the direction we're exploring through FLOW. Simplicity isn't about doing less; it's about understanding what really matters and resisting the temptation to overcomplicate a space.
One of the most interesting aspects of the trip was seeing how different projects approached the relationship between recreation and the wider public realm.
Gatti Park was a standout because wheeled play wasn't treated as a separate destination. Instead, it formed part of the surrounding public landscape, encouraging interaction between skateboarders, pedestrians and people simply passing through the area. It felt integrated rather than isolated.
Oxhey Activity Park approached the challenge differently. Individual activities were given their own dedicated spaces, yet the overall park still functioned as a cohesive environment where families, playground users, wheeled sports and other recreation could comfortably exist together. It reminded me that there isn't one correct solution. Good design responds to the context, the community and the opportunities presented by each site.
Perhaps the project that stayed with me the longest was Stockwell.
The debate around renewing versus replacing ageing skateparks is one we're increasingly having in New Zealand. Visiting Stockwell reinforced my belief that where a facility has good bones and a strong community connection, refurbishment can often deliver a better outcome than starting again. The renewal respected the history of the place while extending its life for future generations.
That philosophy extends well beyond skateparks. Landscapes develop memories over time, and thoughtful design should recognise that history rather than assuming everything old needs to be replaced.
When we first planned this trip, I expected to return with pages of notes about construction details, materials and design ideas. Those notes certainly exist, and they'll influence future projects in different ways. But the observations that have stayed with me are much broader than that.
The trip reminded me that every city has its own rhythm. Movement through a medieval Italian hill town feels completely different to movement through central London, yet both have evolved in response to the people who live there. The same is true of skateparks. The best examples weren't necessarily the most complicated or expensive. They were the ones that felt authentic to their setting and allowed people to make the space their own.
As designers, it's easy to become focused on individual features, materials or construction methods. Travelling was a timely reminder that these are only part of the story. The places we remember most aren't defined by a single design move; they're the result of countless small decisions working together to support everyday life.
That's probably the biggest lesson I brought home. Good public spaces don't simply look good. They feel right because they're designed around people.
“This park caters for all age and skill levels so its perfect to bring the kids for the day. “