On my recent commute to the office, as usual, I rushed through the tunnel in Central Station to catch the train.

However, this time, despite running a few minutes late, I slowed down to listen to the busker sing and play one of my favorite tunes – ‘Fly me to the moon’ on his guitar. It dawned on me how I always rush through the tunnel to get to the platforms and never truly experience the walk.

Everyday Experience

I’ve walked through, what feels like an endless rectangular corridor at least twice each workday and on many weekends, amounting to hundreds of times over the past five years. Being a part of the wave of commuters that flood the tunnel, I manage to walk in sync with them while trying to keep the same pace or when in hurry, zig zag around buskers, rough sleepers, people experiencing homelessness, fundraisers and those who hand out flyers. Like most, I avoid eye contact, play my music on high-volume to channel out the world, and act aloof to avoid attracting attention or the expectation of giving spare change. Often, I feel guilty for ignoring the hardworking buskers who tirelessly play their instruments, the beggars seeking small change or a kind word, and the flyer distributors who smile despite constant rejection.

In my defense, there is nothing to slow me down or make me want to talk to someone else – no place to rest my eyes or take a breath. I share that space with others, but in isolation. I am always waiting for the light at the end of the tunnel.

What should the everyday experience be?

Not comparable, but worth mentioning, my walking experience is quite the opposite when I am walking, above ground, within the beautiful streetscapes of Sydney. George Street, for instance, is full of life and transforms throughout the day making space for workers, commuters, businesses, and buskers – without whom I would not be entertained, have thought-provoking experiences, and felt a connection to Sydney.

Likewise, the Devonshire Pedestrian Tunnel serves as a vital artery in Sydney’s transport network, fulfilling the needs of hundreds of thousands of commuters each day. If this space is shared among that many people every day, is it too much to ask for an engaging experience? Look at Wynyard Walk, it’s not like we can’t achieve good design outcomes. Then, why settle for mediocrity when we know good design is possible?

The tunnel, without people, is devoid of life – perfect for a crime scene. It is a dreary space, resembling the mid-20th century tunnel archetype that feels unsafe and depressing sometimes. I couldn’t stop myself from scrutinizing every element of the tunnel to understand why it offers so little.

Devonshire Pedestrian Tunnel

Being 120 years old, as part of the Central Station is identified as state significant heritage for its historical, aesthetic, and technical values. Though, I have never felt like I was walking through something that has any historic significance. No element of the tunnel embeds itself within the context of its historical significance or reflects the culture and spirit of Sydney for that matter. This tunnel could be anywhere in the world, and it would still have the same effect on me.

The reason – poor design.

The tunnel was reburnished in the 1970s and the image below on the left is how it looked before redevelopment and the image on the right is how it looks now. Frankly, I wish the tunnel was never refurbished as the older version seems to have had some architectural cohesion and charm.

(Image (left) Devonshire Street Tunnel in the 1970s prior to redevelopment.
Source: City of Sydney – https://archives.cityofsydney.nsw.gov.au/nodes/view/600869

(Image (right) Devonshire Street tunnel
Source: Tim Ritchie – https://www.linkedin.com/posts/tcritchie_the-devonshire-street-tunnel-is-a-pedestrian-activity-7028968124100091904-d8EM/)

The refurbished tunnel has long stretches of yellowy creamy walls with spans of awful green and brown terrazzo tiles arranged in geometric patterns with murals of trains and railway infrastructure painted on the walls that lack any artistic depth. The floor is made of white and brown tiles placed in triangular patterns with misaligned utilities. There are also the semi-clean gutters on both ends of the floor home to discarded bottles and clothes sometimes, displaying a lack of communal ownership over the space.

The low ceiling made of metal corrugated sheets with bulky fluorescent lights and large air conditioning vents and other services add to feelings of suffocation. Occasionally, you hear trains rumbling above, and sometimes water leaks from a vent, creating puddles to avoid. Skaters add to the cacophony, their noise echoing, making you hasten your steps. The occasional foul smell, whether sewage or gas, adds to the unpleasant experience, earning the tunnel the moniker “Tunnel of Shame” a decade ago by ABC. I wish I could Ctrl+Z the architectural intervention.

Busking

(Buskers, Aboriginal artist displaying examples of work, Devonshire Street Tunnel)

Buskers, Aboriginal artist displaying examples of work, Devonshire Street Tunnel

While the architecture of the tunnel sadly has been reduced to 6mm tiles that make up the interiors of the space, what elevates the experience, are the buskers who add vibrancy and life. With their charm and eccentricity, they bring unpredictability and delight to the daily grind.

The most interesting thing about them is how temporary and light their presence is – they occupy the smallest area possible and yet have a huge impact on the walking experience. Buskers who are musicians uplift the atmosphere with their music, inject a positive vibe, and build a temporal communal space with people slowing down and making the commute bearable. Sometimes, in the night, they can also increase passive surveillance in the absence of other commuters.

As an urban planner, I’m fascinated by how activities like busking adds life to a corridor that was designed primarily for movement. But at the same time, having lived in a South Asian city, I have always experienced spaces used for diverse, often unplanned purposes. Streets served as cricket fields for children or venues for religious and cultural events. This led me to read Ephemeral Urbanism, which broadened my understanding of the transient yet integral nature of such urban experiences. Questioning the idea of permanence but from an urban planning perspective, I started to draw out the characteristics of ephemeral micro land uses such as busking.

Busking as an ephemeral micro-land use

For those unfamiliar with planning, land use planning shapes how we experience cities daily. Governed by laws, it looks at how land should be used ranging from bus stops and parks to housing and industries. Planners, particularly the ones dealing with transport infrastructure, are focused on order, regulations, and efficiency. They often overlook how transitional spaces can be brought to life through placemaking or consider it as an afterthought. Planning is commonly rooted in the idea of assigning a single purpose or use to a space, associated with the idea of permanence. This approach can disregard the transient but influential nature of temporary uses.

Using my experience of walking through the tunnel, I have mapped the nature of busking – an example of ephemeral micro-land use and note four attributes intrinsic to it: varied locations and activities, fluid use geometry, non-static material configurations, and detachment.

1. Varied locations and activity: Buskers choose different spots daily, and their activities vary, adding dynamic elements to the tunnel.

2. Fluid geometry: This land use is the smallest in size when compared to other land uses defined within a planning system, occupying up to 5 sqm for a few hours of the day. The setup of each busker’s pitch is fluid, reflecting the functional organization of their elements.

3. Non-static material configurations: The temporary pitches are built out of light materials which allow buskers to adapt to a range of spatial conditions and set up a pitch quickly. For instance, the image below shows plastic crates used as seats or as tables to keep busking gear such as equipment. The temporary architecture generally comprises recycled materials or reused items. Given resources are limited, their sustainability relies on the buskers’ capacity to disassemble, reconfigure, and try different iterations to make the functional arrangement work. For instance, some buskers use leftover material from the previous busker to establish their pitch and leave it for the next one.

4. Detachment: Unlike uses defined in other permanent structures, these uses are detached and temporary. For instance, we experience a live musician knowing they may never return to the same space.

In a few cases, temporary uses probably activate the space more than what the permanent use of the space can offer, as observed in the tunnel.

Guidelines and policies for buskers

Sydney’s thriving busking culture is governed by regulatory measures. Buskers need permits to perform, and need to adhere to various restrictions – location, space, start/finish times, duration, and volume. At a local level, there is The Sydney busking code, for instance, a guide for busker etiquette and pitch sharing arrangements in the City of Sydney area which outlines three categories of busking: Low Impact Act (requiring up to 2 sqm space and one may busk for up to 2 hours per location per day); Extended Duration Act (busk up to 8 hours); and High Impact Act (over 2 sqm space and can busk for up to 1 hour per location per day). Permits cost $13 for three months and $47 for a year. While these codes are effective in regulating short-term uses and their impacts on commuters, they lack incentives for performers and fail to address urban design aspects that could enhance safety and engagement with public.

At a state level, there is the Pedestrian underpass design guideline published last year by Transport for NSW to enhance customer experience by improving safety and appearance of underpasses. This non-technical document advocates for an integrated engineering and urban design approach including design of spaces for musicians or other forms of entertainment. As the guidelines are not legally binding, the implementation of urban design features remains optional and dependent on aspects such as funding.

It’s clear that good architecture and urban design is the key to transforming spaces like the Devonshire Tunnel. We can undoubtedly create vibrant urban environments recognising and making space for these land uses, not as an afterthought, particularly in transportation infrastructure design. Buskers, with their ability to bring life to our current engineering-driven urban landscape, deserve support and incentives through adequate government funding to continue enriching our communities.

Moreover, embracing and making way for busking and other micro-ephemeral land uses, on a broader scale can enhance the culture and life in the city. Instead of focusing on the light at the end of the tunnel, can we make way for life in the tunnel?

By Rishi Gujarathi, Senior Urban Planner and Design Intergrator, Aurecon