Portland Architecture

Vancouver, Portland's point-tower role model, embraces mid-rise housing for Olympics

Vancouver Olympic Village, photo by Nathan Veldhoen, via Flickr  

Over the last decade, Portland's skyline has been substantially transformed by the addition of several condo towers that were taller and thinner than just about all of the local high-rise buildings that had come before them.

In neighborhoods like South Waterfront and Pearl District--but also in places like Northwest 23rd, downtown and along West Burnside--we saw a succession of these new buildings. Usually they incorporated a two- or three-story base, or podium, where the building extends all the way to the street, and then a thinner portion rises 20 or more stories from there. In most cases, these projects take up entire blocks by themselves.

In the past, Portland's central city was zoned to encourage shorter, squattier buidings built to the street and going straight up from there. But there was a rallying cry in the late 1990s and early 2000s for zoning to be changed to allow buildings to go taller in exchange for being thinner, their upper floors set back from the street to diminish shadows and allow more light on the street. Portland’s model for this type of building—and the type of neighborhood it fosters--was primarily Vancouver, British Columbia, which has become known for a succession of these towers since beginning to incorporate them into their skyline some twenty years ago.

Vancouver Olympic Village, photo by Michael Tedesco, via Flickr 

Yet as Vancouver prepared for the Winter Olympics over the last few years, the city made a conscious decision to move away from point towers when it transformed a former industrial area, just across False Creek from downtown, into the Olympic Village. Although currently housing hundreds of athletes, the Olympic Village will spend the rest of its life as the Millennium Water development composed of mixed-use condos, greenspace and a community center. And the Millennium Water condos are decidedly mid-rise buildings, not tall thin towers.

A few weeks ago, while reporting on the architecture of the Vancouver Olympics for The Architect’s Newspaper, I interviewed Scot Hein of the City of Vancouver about (among other things) the decision to go mid-rise. Here’s some of what he had to say:

"Right now our idea of urbanism or ‘Vancouverism’ has expanded well beyond the tower podium typology. It’s not one size fits all. Every precinct of the city is telling you something different and giving you cues about scale and pattern. Before the Olympics were awarded, we were pursuing a direction based on tower podium. Towers are easy to build and they have a lot of value. But the design professions here rallied around the fact that for this part of the city, the opposite side of False Creek adjacent to industrial buildings, there should not be tower form but a lower scale that was supportive and reinforcing of the kind of fabric that was (originally) in this part of the city. Very prominent architects wrote letters and caused our city council to rethink tower podiums. We ended up redistributing that density to upwards of 13 to 14-story buildings in a courtyard form where things are pushed to the edges."

“In the Olympic Village we have these full block developments broken down in to 4-5 pieces. They might have contiguous floor plates but they don’t read as singular super-blocks. There’s variety within the block. When you add eight of these, it’s got a lot of modulation to it.

“While mid-rise might not be as promising as a singular sculptural statement, there’s much more variety, complexity, and articulation. We love towers too, but they’re usually going to be glass curtain walls. Mid-rises open themselves to whole new markets of materials and facades. We get a lot more color, use of wood, fenestration, architectural shading and screening—layering of things you can put on mid-rise to make them interesting.”

So if Vancouver has eschewed point towers in favor of mid-rise buildings (at least in False Creek), what does that signal for Portland? Obviously during this continuing recession, it’s a relatively moot point because the market is over-built. But someday, there will once again be a shortage of high-density urban condos and apartments, and the housing market will be on an upswing. It may be as soon as 2011 or it might not happen till 2015. But eventually Portland will be building high-density multifamily housing again. And when we do, should point towers be the continued model, or should smaller mid-rise buildings like Vancouver has turned to in False Creek return to the table?

Simply walking north through the Pearl District you can see both highrise and mid-rise residential buildings.

In the southern portion closer to Burnside, the units built in the 1990s are largely mid-rise, particularly the units built by the major developer in the neighborhood, Hoyt Street Properties. Many of these projects are modest, buildings from an architectural standpoint. They don’t call attention to themselves, but they make a pleasant urban environment with their small scale and proximity to the sidewalk.

South Waterfront (L-R: Atwater Place, The John Ross, The Meriwether), photo by Brian Libby 

Then as you head further north in the Pearl, there are taller, thinner condos on podiums, from The Pinnacle (Ankrom Moisan) to The Metropolitan (BOORA and Jeff Lamb) to The Encore (BOORA). There are also such buildings in the Brewery Blocks, such as the Louisa Apartments (GBD Architects).

And of course virtually all the buildings in the South Waterfront are versions of point towers, from The John Ross (TVA Architects) to The Meriwether (Peter Busby & GBD Architects) to Atwater Place (THA Architecture & GBD). Some of these projects I’m quite fond of, at least as sculptural objects. They flesh out the modest Portland skyline and are often beautifully detailed – I’m particularly fond of Atwater Place in that regard. And coupled together, point-tower areas allow more sunlight to reach the street.

But I’m not sure about creating whole neighborhoods out of the point-tower form. South Waterfront feels a little too large of a scale to make an inviting neighborhood at the pedestrian level, even though plenty of attention has gone to pedestrians. Mid-rise buildings are an essential part of the urban mix. Quite honestly, I’d rather live in a mid-rise building and a neighborhood than a forest of point towers. It feels more cozy and, well, like a neighborhood.

But I also spent numerous years in the 2000s arguing for the city to allow point towers, because it seemed like Portland had too many short, squatty buildings. What’s more important, how a building feels to a resident or to the city? Don’t feel like you need to answer that question – I don’t think there is a perfect answer. 

937 Condos, photo by Brian Libby 

What’s more, notice that Scot Hein mentioned their mid-rise buildings are 14-15 stories, while ours are typically smaller. The 937 condo (Holst Architecture) in the Pearl, for example, is 16 stories and considered a high-rise.

Scot Hein also stressed that Vancouver only chose mid-rise for the Olympic Village buildings in False Creek. Even so, it’s still a major course change for the city that made point towers a quintessential building type of the 1990s and 2000s. Does Portland follow Vancouver back to our previous future? Personally, I hope it never becomes an either-or scenario. As always, the best urban environments are ones that have many differently sized and different looking pieces.

Why all the fuss? The North House looks great [updated]

photo by Daniel Kaven, courtesy William Kaven Architecture 

When the North House on Vancouver Avenue was featured in last year’s 11xDesign homes tour, the project was just a shell of itself—literally. The tour, which I wrote about for Dwell magazine, had featured houses in various states of completion, meant to introduce a group of architect-developers more than to act as a traditional look at completed luxury homes.

So returning to the completed North House a few weeks ago was long-anticipated treat. Not only is this an exceptional three-unit development in its handsome clean modern lines, warm natural materials, contributions to urban density and the opportunity it gives to introduce the talented William Kaven Architecture. It’s also a victory over a needlessly drawn out and bitter approval process that began with a disgruntled neighbor. Kudos to Kaven and co-developer Rich Anderson for seeing this impressive building through to completion.

Back in the summer of 2007, the North House’s design was approved by the City of Portland, but that decision was appealed by the neighbor who owned two adjacent properties. 

 

photos by Daniel Kaven, courtesy William Kaven Architecture 

"The proposed development is in a residential zone and therefore should be designed to enhance these existing and predominant features," the appeal argued. "The design is not compatible with the existing structures and neighborhood."

According to an Oregonian article by Fred Leeson written at the time of the appeal, the appealing homeowner “and her relatives have lived among the pitched-roof homes along North Vancouver Avenue for 50 years. So she wasn't pleased to learn that an adjoining house would be cleared to build a triplex. Worse yet, the proposed building would have a flat roof and storefront-style windows — nothing like the 1910 houses in the 4000 block on both sides of her street. ‘The design really sticks out,’ the homeowner said. ‘It doesn't blend in with existing houses.’"

A family's half-century legacy of living in a neighborhood is not something to treat flippantly. Longtime residents of a place deserve to be heard and respected.

And true enough, the city's community design standards for infill housing in older neighborhoods recommend pitched roofs of specified angles. But note the word “recommend”. After the design was approved and the initial appeal rejected, she kept on appealing all the way to the Oregon Circuit Court of Appeals, where the case was also rejected. (A call was placed to the homeowner to get her side; so far it has not been returned.)

photo by Daniel Kaven, courtesy William Kaven Architecture 

I can understand concern among single-family-home owners about their neighborhood being dwarfed by condominiums out of scale with their houses. However, Vancouver Avenue is a major thoroughfare with different zoning rules than quiet back residential streets. It's also got nearly as many commercial buildings to provide architectural context as it does old single family homes. Yet even if you stuck to comparing it only to single-family homes, the North House still does not dwarf the properties around it; the Kaven design wound up about the same height as the rest of the surrounding homes.

I'm not saying the North House's composition perfect; I'm not crazy about the small slit of a window in the front of the house. And some have tired of the Dwell type this house fits into. But overall, I think this is a gorgeous contemporary design.

“The manner in which the City of Portland and neighbors can hold your design hostage has really gotten out of control," Daniel Kaven told me back when the house was first appealed. "There needs to be major changes in the 'community design standards' in order to accommodate modern design. Modern housing, which might only slightly deviate from the standards, is slathered in red tape, while awful track housing still gets the green light.”

Trevor Lewis and Daniel Kaven of William Kaven Architecture; photo by Brian Libby

Visiting the North House recently, not only was I impressed by the simple layouts and sumptuous materials (which include concrete countertops, reclaimed timber beams and stairs, and walnut cabinets) and huge amounts of natural light permeating the spaces, but it was contrasted by the decaying, garbage-filled adjacent houses. One of the two houses, the one immediately adjacent to the Kaven project, has a hole in the roof and some boarded up windows.

With respect to issues of compatibility in neighborhoods, I think the appealing homeowner is partially correct that we don't want to allow projects wildly out of scale to be placed next to single-family homes. However, a big factor is the execution. The North House is not out of scale, and it's a particularly exceptional design. There may be projects worth appealing, but this one isn't it.

photos by Daniel Kaven, courtesy William Kaven Architecture 

The form of this triplex takes on a series of floating boxes, with the second floor gently cantilevered over the first and the small third-floor portions set back from the second floor. The effect is like a series of differently-scaled cubes, activated by a succession of negative spaces that foster shadows and plays of light. When standing outside the North House, looking up at the third floor, you can actually see all the way through the façade’s glass, making it a kind of sculptural object. Even so, those tiny third floors are no bigger than an adjacent house’s chimney.

When I originally wrote about William Kaven Architecture and the 11xDesign tour, it was a chance to recognize not only a group of local architecture firms taking initiative by developing their own small projects, but also to celebrate the top young talents of Portland architecture. And William Kaven definitely belongs in that conversation. During the tour itself, more attention probably went to finished projects like Ben Waechter’s Z-Haus. But the North House should announce Kaven loud and clear as a top talent and one to watch.

Beverly comes to Hollywood

photos by Brian Libby 

Portland’s Hollywood district is home to a new mixed-use project, The Beverly Condominiums, at NE 44th Avenue and Sandy Boulevard.

Slated for LEED Silver certification, the five-story building was developed by Gerding Edlen Development, now the largest sustainable building developer in the United States. This, along with another recently completed Gerding Edlen mixed-use project, The 20 on SE Hawthorne Boulevard, represents the developer moving to Portland’s east side. In the past, Gerding principally made its name with larger west side projects such as the Brewery Blocks in the Pearl District as well as Atwater Place, The John Ross, The Meriwether and (more recently) The Ardea in South Waterfront. 

Named after a former famous resident of the Hollywood district—children’s author Beverly Cleary—The Beverly was designed by GBD Architects, Gerding’s most frequent architectural collaborator. If you put together all five Brewery Blocks, The Casey, The Gerding Theater, the OHSU Center for Health and Healing and now The Beverly, The 20 and The Ardea, that’s an incredible number of major projects between this developer and architect in the last decade-plus, all of them fairly large in scale. (And that doesn’t include the work Gerding and GBD have done together in other cities like Los Angeles and Bellevue.) I can’t think of another developer-architect partnership in this city in the current era that has been more impactful. 

The brick and wood-clad Beverly is anchored by a Whole Foods Market and Chase Bank on the first floor, with two floors of parking above. The top two floors are devoted to 53 condominiums (all one or two bedrooms), which enjoy views of Mount Hood to the east and downtown Portland looking west.

 

 

The residential units share a handsome rooftop interior courtyard that feels quite different (more intimate) compared to the massiveness of the overall building. It’s a series of small forms stacked on top of the big, broad base and middle of the structure.

Inside the condos, living areas feature hardwood floors in natural red or saddle oak and wool carpet. Kitchens are built with maple or ash cabinetry with stainless steel hardware.

For optimal indoor air quality The Beverly was built with materials emitting low or no volatile organic compounds (VOCs) or formaldehydes. The building team, led by general contractor R&H Construction, also recycled all construction waste. And The Beverly provides 100 percent storm water filtration.

When I first heard about this project, I was disheartened because constructing The Beverly meant the mid-century modern bank on this site, an elegant glass and concrete structure, had to be torn down. At the same time, there is reason to cheer this new building because of the density it adds to the Hollywood district given its relatively close-in location and its proximity to a MAX stop. The Beverly is part of Gerding Edlen's broader focus on what's commonly referred to in sustainability talk as "20-minute living," or the notion that most of the things we need (jobs, shops, services) can be found within a twenty-minute walk.

 

Viewing the block-sized building from Sandy Boulevard, I enjoyed the façade’s interplay of textures, particularly the natural wood cladding of the upper portions and how it contrasts with the brick below.

Standing on the street outside the building can look monolithic and imposing, particularly towards the back. However, because of the triangular building footprint created by Sandy Boulevard, The Beverly is at its most slender and visually appealing at the point from which it will most people will see it. What’s more, it is very difficult to make a parking garage look humane and vibrant. They’re a necessary aesthetic evil of having automobiles.

  

Naturally, were the parking garage underground and The Beverly instead a three story building with Whole Foods and Chase on the ground floor and the condos directly above, it could have made for a more attractive piece of architecture and a more pleasant experience for the casual passer by. The subterranean parking would also have added significant costs to the project, and the land cost east of the river must not have allowed it in the building’s budget. As a result, the residential units on top of the garage feel less connected to the street and the neighborhood. That makes the building feel less attractive ultimately than comparable projects like Museum Place downtown, which GBD also designed, or the Brewery Blocks that Gerding Edlen and GBD previously collaborated on (one of which has another Whole Foods).

 

To be honest, I'm not sure exactly how to judge a project like The Beverly. It earns very positive marks by a number of measuring sticks, from its sustainability to the attractiveness of its materials to the way it contributes to Hollywood’s future as a higher-density, transit oriented neighborhood. But it’s a bulky building with a parking garage enlarging what would otherwise have been a more intimately scaled mixed use building. And yet I'm also not sure if it's fair to critique a building's design based in part on what might have been in terms of program (with underground parking). In that way, perhaps this project is a reminder of both the opportunities and challenges, economically and in terms of design, along Portland’s continued path towards higher density. 

Hillsdale Terrace: debating the "inescapable stigma" of public housing [updated]

In the opinion section of today's Oregonian, architect Michael Willis takes a heartfelt stand against the ongoing stigma of public housing.

The Willis essay is actually a response to a previous op-ed piece written by Ray Hallberg, who criticized the Housing Authority of Portland for applying for $40 million in federal money to tear down the 39-year-old, 60-unit Hillsdale Terrace in Southwest Portland (pictured above and below) and build 100 units of new public housing.

"Families in public housing projects blend poorly or not at all with the larger community," Hallberg wrote. "Project schoolchildren are marked by their peers as 'from the project' and tend to self-segregate. Rightly or wrongly, there is an inescapable stigma attached to the tenants of public housing projects."

"Such projects have been identified nationally as social failures since the 1960s," Hallberg added. "The larger the project, the larger the failure."

To Michael Willis, this isn't just an attack against the Hillsdale Terrace project that his firm, Michael Willis Architects, is designing. Or the numerous public housing projects the firm has designed in the past, in Portland as well as San Francisco, New Orleans, Oakland and several other cities. It's also a personal affront, because Willis grew up in a public housing project in St. Louis.

"We are most proud of the work we've done for HAP in Portland, reconnecting former public housing communities into the surrounding neighborhood fabric in ways that value both the residents of the newly built housing and their neighbors," Willis writes. "Please go to North Alberta Street and Vancouver Avenue to see Humboldt Gardens or to North Portland's Portsmouth neighborhood to see New Columbia. And if there are still issues to be resolved between neighbors, that's called real life. At least it will be in the context of neighbor-to-neighbor, not as neighbor-to-stigmatized people from the projects."

I find this an interesting debate, and one that is perhaps settled by design.

For starters, Hallberg is not merely some crackpot. He is a retired builder and developer as well as a member of the Homebuilders Association of Metropolitan Portland's Oregon Housing Hall of Fame, and previously served on the board of the Housing Authority of Portland.

And Hallberg has a strong point when it comes to evaluating the success of public housing projects of the past. You don't have to live in New York or Chicago to remember the common phenomenon in the 1960s and 70s of affordable housing towers that were meant to lift people out of poverty but often, as Hallberg noted, resulted in crime-ridden places and the notion that the struggling poor population was being segregated away from the rest of society.

He remembers when Hillsdale Terrace once engendered such controversy upon its original construction. "In the late 1960s, HAP proposed the Hillsdale Terrace apartments at 100 units. The plan triggered immediate, intense neighborhood resistance because no one wants a public housing project next door," Hallberg (pictured at left) writes. "There were many neighborhood meetings, including a full house in the Wilson High School auditorium. There were two hearings before then-Mayor Terry Schrunk's City Council. Finally, the plans was approved -- at 60 units -- and built in 1970."

Even so, times have changed. I don't think investing in a contemporary re-design for Hillsdale Terrace will elicit feelings of class-based discrimination, and today's public housing projects are designed to better integrate with an existing urban fabric. In other words, Hallberg is at least partially correct that no segment of the population should be isolated from the rest of a community. But I think Willis is correct that the time is past for public housing projects to be viewed merely as highrise slums that will mark residents ad doomed black sheep.

Of course, there is also a racial and class element to this particular debate. Hallberg is Caucasian and Willis is African American. Hallberg was a successful developer, while Willis was raised in just the kind of "projects" that are supposed to earn the "inescapable stigma" Hallberg writes about.

Ultimately I side with Willis in arguing we can re-make public housing so that it's beneficial to lifting people out of poverty. But Hallberg's reminder that such public investment to help the poor doesn't always run smoothly or without societal downsides.

UPDATE, 11/18/09: In an additional Oregonian op-ed the paper published online, Rick Nitti, director of the Hillsdale nonprofit social service agency Neighborhood House, has this to say:

"Hallberg argues that 'building a segregated, dense community of low-income families is exactly what HAP should not do. I agree with his premise but disagree with his conclusion. A newly developed Hillsdale Terrace will create a geography of opportunity for disadvantaged families with access to jobs, health care, services and resources, and good schools for their children."

"As someone who lived in the shadows of Chicago's Cabrini Green, I know first-hand what bad policy it is to isolate our poor in communities of poverty. The evidence is clear. Integrating low-income families in middle-class neighborhoods where they gain access to higher-performing schools and more job opportunities and are exposed to less crime and social distress has demonstrated increases in opportunity and reduced the effects of poverty."

"Building a new Hillsdale Terrace that is a model for sustainable development and is designed to reflect the surrounding neighborhood's character will help transform what is now a distressed pocket into a mixed-income community that instills pride and dignity among its residents."

Opportunity abounds with abatement: A conversation with PDC's John Warner about workforce housing

Imagine if there was a way to put the Portland area's countless unemployed architects and construction workers back to work. And while you're imagining, suppose this plan stemmed from an already-existing city program that has simply been shelved for the last four years. And finally, imagine that this endeavor would not cost the city money but in fact do the opposite: create a long-term revenue stream.

This isn't mere architectural pixie dust or pie-in-the-sky optimism. It comes from a conversation I had recently with John Warner, who manages housing development and workforce housing policy for the Portland Development Commission. Warner met me at a coffee house near PDC with a binder full of stats and graphics, but the message was more emotionally resonant: that we can do more to stimulate housing and jobs as well as great architecture without exhausting city coffers.

For thirty years until a 2005 moratorium was put in place, the city utilized the New Multiple Unit Housing Property Tax Exemption program to stimulate multifamily housing in the central city. It was geared towards residents too well off to qualify for low-income housing but not affluent enough to be able to afford to live here. Exemplified by projects such as the Sitka Apartments in the Pearl District (pictured at right) or Shaver Green in North Portland (apologies - these turned out to be affordable housing projects) these programs help create close-in housing for working people like cops, teachers, social workers and firefighters.

Prior to the 2005 moratorium, both the New Multiple-Unit Housing program and the Transit Supportive and Residential Development programs provided a 10-year tax exemption on the improvement value of a new multifamily or mixed-use project in the central city and in PDC-designated urban renewal areas as well as light rail station areas outside the central city. They were intended to provide an incentive for high-density residential and mixed-use development in Portland’s centers and other transit-oriented areas so that the city can accommodate new population growth, improve the housing-jobs balance, and support public transit, particularly the regional light rail system.

Tax abatement programs such as these not only help make the central city a viable destination for more than just the richest and poorest populations, but also lead to increased tax revenue by growing the overall tax base. It's worth it to offer discounts to projects that bring more middle income people into the heart of the city.

But because these workforce housing programs have in the past been used in relatively tony areas like the Pearl District, there is also a stigma: that people already well off are getting tax breaks they don't deserve, while some granny in Lents or a minimum-wage worker in Parkrose is having to pay their property taxes in full.

This misleading appearance of unfairness seems to be why the moratorium was placed on the New Multiple Unit Housing and Transit Supportive development programs in 2005. The tax exemption, heretofore intended for middle class/workforce housing, was re-directed to low-income housing projects.

It may sound fairer for the city to devote its limited housing funds to the neediest people, and build all low-income housing. Why give tax breaks for fancy condo towers?

But it's not that simple; in fact, such a notion is misleading. Nationwide, low-income housing already receives vastly more funds than workforce housing. Certainly I'm not arguing that there shouldn't be strict attention to providing low-income housing. It's just that if low-income housing is already relatively stable in its funding mechanisms, why cut off workforce housing when it's the neediest and most neglected in terms of city financial support?

It's also middle-income housing that can have the most impact on the places where it is built. Healthy urban areas are places where people from a variety of income levels live and work in a manner that promotes the overall economic growth. I mean, it's great to help a homeless person get off the streets into a single-room-occupancy residence. That's our responsibility as a caring society. However, it's workforce housing projects that will bring people into the central city to patronize restaurants and shops, reduce crime and traffic, contribute to the tax base and make the whole economy prosper.

Now, Warner says, the city is preparing to re-evaluate these tax-abatement programs. Over the next year, we could see them made active again. And that's a good thing.

“The tool is sitting in the tool shed," Warner explains. "All we have to do is pick it up. We could have the design and construction communities back to work. It’s a catalyst.”

Warner and PDC are proposing a 15-year fund that is contributed to by employers, foundations, and the city. The goal is 20 projects (with 3,400 households) built during that time. All of the money would be paid back but in the meantime it would induce $1.1 billion in total development.

Portland has enjoyed a relatively low cost of living compared to other West Coast cities, which have experienced greater crisis of affordability in their centers. In places like San Francisco, for example, you have to be J.R. Ewing to live within five miles of the Transamerica building or the COIT tower. That's not quite the case in Portland, but things are changing here.  Simply in order to stay even with the current standard of living, you'd need annual income growth of 4.7 percent. Most people I know get a 3 percent annual cost-of-living raise at most.

“A rational consumer will not choose to live here," Warner says. "So you have to trade on people’s irrational exuberance.” It's a good thing we have all that beautiful scenery and all those yummy food carts. Otherwise Portland could become a lot more like Cleveland than we're prepared to admit.

Recently I wrote a blog post about the proposed workforce housing project envisioned by Works Partnership and developer Randy Rapaport. The project, which won an unbuilt-design award from the American Institute of Architects last month, would require the kind of workforce-housing funds the city previously provided (before the 2005 moratorium) in order to get built. And this is true with countless projects across the city that haven't even been conceived of yet. Tax abatement could be putting architects and building-industry workers back on the job.

PDC owns many land parcels around Portland that could be turned into workforce housing projects if the abatement moratorium were to end. And again, this wouldn't be a strain to the city's tax coffers, but would actually increase them over time by growing the tax base to include more taxpayers. Wouldn't it be nice to see more construction cranes in the air next year? It could happen if we bring the abatement program (which was on the books for 30 years) back.

If the city's tax abatement programs for workforce housing are re-instated, there's only one more thing I'd like to see done: the instigation of a design excellence program at PDC that helps assure commissions are given to the city's most talented architects, and not simply those who have the most experience or have an inside track with the agency. Part of what was exciting about seeing the Works-Rapaport project was that it combined affordability and location with superlative architecture. That hasn't always been the case with PDC-oriented projects. Some of them are outright ugly. So while the economic and social factors are more than enough to make workforce housing programs worthwhile, we also needn't give up the opportunity to direct such projects to the best designers.

Even so, in such a devastating economy for the design and building community, there may be a growing sense of urgency about putting workforce housing programs back on city books. Of course we have to be protective of the city budget, but I'd do this in a heartbeat.