Emmanuel Pratt doesn’t have a master plan. In fact, the Chicago-based designer, artist, and urban planner says his work is in strident opposition to a top-down approach to city development. Instead, he believes in “urban acupuncture,” a theory that small-scale, local interventions, realized in conjunction with the people who live in the targeted area, can have positive effects that resonate throughout a city and beyond.

Pratt cofounded the Sweet Water Foundation 11 years ago to put those ideas into practice. The nonprofit has transformed several adjacent parcels of formerly vacant properties on the South Side of Chicago into The Commons, a collection of public spaces that serves as a thriving neighborhood hub.

One of them, the [Re]Construction House, is a formerly derelict home—the last of its kind standing on a long-razed block—that now houses classrooms and exhibition space. Another, the Thought Barn, went up in 2017 and serves as a platform for a variety of activities, from performances to yoga workshops to community meetings. The centerpiece is a thriving urban farm and green-house where volunteers cultivate fresh vegetables to sell to the neighborhood.

Last year, Pratt received a MacArthur Foundation fellowship to build on his efforts. We spoke with him about the origins of his work, what’s next for Sweet Water, and what he means by “regenerative design.”

Dwell: What set you on the path toward establishing Sweet Water?

Pratt: I grew up in Chicago in settings where I was constantly on the verge—the verge of erasure, the verge of being lost. So it was rough. I became an artist and a musician, and I drifted into architecture because people said I should get a real job. But then I was frustrated by the profession’s silos and reductive responses to real-life challenges. Neighborhoods like the one I grew up in were devoid of investment and design opportunities. And you can’t just invest in a built structure. You have to consider context as well. When I went into urban design, that’s what I started to look at: the bigger context.

How do you describe your approach?

Identify a stress point, figure out the history behind it, and insert a design moment, something that offers an opportunity for the community to respond. Then, use that feedback to design a space that serves its context. That’s why Sweet Water links architecture to education, to gardening, to carpentry apprenticeships.

Why did you start with a farm?

People need fresh, good food. Period. Full stop. What’s the point of growing organic lettuce if you’re selling it at a premium? That’s just immoral, unethical.

What are you planning next?

Everything we do—the garden beds, the greenhouse—is a lesson plan that we can teach and then scale. We call this “regenerative neighborhood development,” and we now have a proven design strategy based on it. Next, we’re building a regenerative design team to expand it. We’re doing really flexible, modular installations around the city that create spaces for programming and feedback in their communities.

What ties all of this work together?

We live in a time of polarization. Where people are alienated or ousted, or displaced because of gentrification, we’re reversing that. We have to do something that is like a magnet for people to come together, to find each other, in order to reclaim their humanity.

Let’s move away from traditional, 20th-century design practices that have created voids in our cities, alienated populations, and closed down schools. We’re in crisis mode. But now we have a tremendous opportunity to look at a new beginning. And that’s where the regenerative design and development comes in. That’s why we do the work.