If you’ve ever seen a Phoenix travel brochure, you probably know it’s a mixed bag. Generally, you’ll see a cactus, Camelback Mountain or maybe an anonymous desert scene.
But no matter the visual pitch, I’ve never found a Phoenix travel brochure enticing. “Why would I want to come here?” I offhandedly ask myself — more banal statement than question.
I desperately want to find Phoenix’s soul, to look at one symbol and think: “That is Phoenix; that’s the place I love.” But in comparison with the other large cities, Phoenix’s identity seems as shallow as the Salt River.
Cities like New York, Chicago and San Francisco have strong histories that create culture and identity — an unquestioned sense of place.
Phoenix lacks that identity. Our sprawling suburban houses and cookie-cutter strip malls were built over a landscape of great opportunity. Now, instead of the “Heart of the Desert,” instead of “the Valley of the Sun” or the idea of what is uniquely Phoenix, we’re left living in just another neighborhood, shopping at just another store — living in just another place.
As Phoenix grew in size, its sense of identity diminished.
What makes a city’s identity important?
At a loss myself, I turned to Aaron Golub, assistant professor at ASU’s School of Planning and School of Sustainability. Golub’s background in urban planning, engineering and mathematics prepared me for a conversation 180-degrees contrary to the philosophical course our talk actually took:
“It’s people’s loss of identity that makes them now try to seek [it],” he said. “They’ve realized over time that they’re longing for it … finally, it’s reaching a kind of critical mass — of community awareness and sense of place.”
Golub postulated that Phoenix has grown statistically large while maintaining a cultural flatline. But that trend may be changing.
If we are on the cusp of a trend toward identity, it’s because key community members have been working hard to build momentum. Sporadic groups throughout the Valley have decided to fight our culture’s anonymity. Community activists, local businesses and city councils have made serious inroads into developing a sense of place for Phoenix.
The latest example culminated last Thursday when downtown Phoenix opened the Civic Space Park, a brilliantly positioned urban park just across from ASU’s downtown campus. The park features Janet Echelman’s distinctive work, “Her Secret is Patience,” which one of my friends aptly described as a “signal to the mother ship.”
Now that’s what I’m talking about, Phoenix.
Not only is the space distinctive and unique, the $2.5 million budget came directly from funds already allocated to city improvement, created 150 construction jobs and brought world-class art to the to the area, according to the government Web site.
More importantly, the park is finally something to look at and say, “Now that’s Phoenix.”
At the opening ceremonies, Phoenix mayor Phil Gordon said the park finally gives Phoenix an aesthetic to match its place as the fifth largest city in the nation. But, while the park is a definite victory for the Valley’s identity, we have a long way to go.
We need to use this momentum to continue building our own sense of place — the Phoenix we all deserve.
Channing is taking e-mails from the shade of downtown Phoenix’s newest park at channing.turner@asu.edu.

