Portland Architecture

Metropolis Revisits Portland Building

It may not be popular with locals, but the Portland Building continues to occupy a big place in architectural history.

For its 25th anniversary issue, on newsstands this month, Metropolis magazine devotes a feature article to each year of publication. 1982's entry, on the Portland Building, includes quotes from numerous critics, students and architects about its legacy. "Love it or hate it," says the article's author, Laurie Manfra, "the government buildings stylized cream-and-mauve facade made it a symbol of the Post-Modern style."

Here are some more quotes:

"I've always admired Charles Jencks's assertion that it is the first Post-Modern building 'to show that one can build with art, ornament and symbolism on a grand scale.' It matched Graves's own confidence as a designer. It may have given us little to look back on, but it is a lightning rod of a superconfident past." - Sara Whiting, critic and associate professor of architecture at Harvard's Graduate School of Design.

"Post-Modernism proposed architecture so impoverished and flat that it had no possibility for evolution. Michael Graves's Portland Building, while certainly a monument to the zeitgeist of the 1980s, has little to offer the contemporary world." Tom Wiscombe, Emergent (whatever that is)

"The Portland Building reminds me of the Cray-1 supercomputer from 1976 - it's a visually robust testament to its own maverick (but serious) intentions. It signifies a brutish but bold beginning." Talia Dorsey, architecture student at M.I.T.

"In all its controversy, neither praise nor criticism gave due credit to the building on a literal level. Graves (and Rossi) are masters of tweaking proportions. Their legacy is making things portly, and their audaciusness is totally inspiring at a large urban scale." Jeffrey Inaba, professor at SCI-Arc and principal with HOLA.

The Port of Portland: Taking Flight?

In today's Oregonian, Alex Pulaski reports that the Port of Portland is contemplating moving its administrative headquarters from its current location in Old Town out to the airport. Although only in the discussion stage now, the move would represent a more efficient consolidation of facilities but also, however unintended, could send an unfortunate symbolic message as it jetissons the downtown central business district.

When I read this article, however, my thought wasn't about these issues so much as the fact that I've never been a fan of the Port of Portland's headquarters from an architectural standpoint. Whenever I go to the Classical Chinese Garden, which sits across the street, part of me whinces at having the view above framed by the Port building and One Pacific Square.

The architect for the Port of Portland building, completed in 1999, is Zimmer Gunsul Frasca. And that firm has been responsible for some very nice architecture, here and throughout the world. (Hell, I'm even currently writing an article about the range of compelling work they're doing.) What the firm designed for the Port, however, is a very bland brick box with a glassy portion at the corner.

Admittedly, I say all this not having ever been inside. For all I know, the POP is a real jewel on the inside. But on the outside, I think it's too bad that the Port didn't have the budget or otherwise the gumption to make a stronger, clearer architectural gesture. They are an important public institution, and while there's no need to call attention to yourself, there's also an added responsibility, I think, to build buildings of lasting civic value.

Say the Port of Portland does move to the airport within the next few years. What will happen to the building they left behind? At only about six years old, it'll still be viable office space for a generation. The Port could be long gone, then, and in their trail will be a drab office building that could have been much easier on the eyes.

Part of the problem with the building, I think, is how its parking is (unless I'm mistaken) not underground but occupying the second floor (and the third, spatially speaking). It's really hard to make that look good. As a result, the upper offices seem severed from the ground floor retail. The material palette is obviously brick and glass, which certainly can and have been made to work together well. But here somehow the brick feels too unadorned to be stately and not crisp enough to be attractive modernism. Plus the glass has a dark coating, which may be necessary to prevent a lot of heat gain but doesn't look very inviting.

As always, though, I'm curious if other people share my opinion about the Port of Portland's headquarters or whether you think I'm unfairly attacking a solid piece of design work. If there are people out there who like or even don't dislike this project, what is it I'm not seeing?

Gragg on the Tram

We haven't heard much from Oregonian architecture critic Randy Gragg these past several months. He's been on leave from the paper at Harvard University on a Loeb Fellowship. But in The Oregonian's Sunday commentary section, Gragg rang in on the tram debacle.

"No member of the media watched the tram's early history more closely than I did," he writes. "Back in 2001, I started beating the drum for an international design competition."

Gragg describes how OHSU used a "ski-lift engineer" back in 2002 to produce the first cost estimate for the tram. The asumption was that "a short, simple tower could be anchored with cables into the mountainside's bedrock. By contrast, the tram now being built lands at a hole in the side of OHSU's new 200-foot-high Patient Care Facility. To protect the new microsurgery facilities, the system's 1 million pounds of cables and cars won't touch the building. They'll hang off a 160-foot tower with no tie-backs to either the building or the ground. Imagine playing tug-of-war with a football team while standing on one foot: The tower will bear an extraordinary 160 million foot-pounds of torque. Nothing like it has ever been built anywhere before...Nobody bothered to study the radical new engineering problem OHSU had created."

Gragg concludes by arguing that this is one of the city's biggest ever public-private partnerships, and that what's at stake here isn't just the $55 million or even the future of South Waterfront, but the future of such civic projects throughout the city. And that's what I see as the most crucial point. The going has become tough. Are we going to keep going?

Stuart Emmons' Crusadefor Fire Station One

In addition to being among the handful of most talented architect/planners in the city as head principal of Emmons Architects, Stuart Emmons has always been a crusader. He's written op-ed pieces in The Oregonian, he is a co-founder of the Design Exchange, and he is passionate about advancing the overall caliber of design in Portland.

Recently Stuart wrote a letter to Mayor Potter, Commissioners Sten, Adams, Leonard, and Saltzman as well as Bruce Warner at the Portland Development Commission and some other elected officials calling for the Fire Station One project to be continued.

What's fascinating about Stuart's advocacy here is that his firm actually lost the design competition for Fire Station One to Thomas Hacker Architects. But he believes moving the station from its current location, which is now under threat due to budget problems, is a crucial catalyst for the downtown waterfront. And Stuart should know - he designed the master plan for the area.

Here is a copy of Stuart Emmons' letter:

It is now or never for Fire One.

After three years of hard work and expense, the City might give up and just remodel the existing station. If Fire One stays where it is, it will be a significant setback — not only for our Waterfront/Old Town district, but also for downtown Portland. And downtown should be a top priority: if the heart of a city is not healthy and prospering, the rest of the city will wither. Which leads us to another observation:

It is now or the distant future (read: maybe never) for downtown waterfront housing.

We’re experiencing our hottest housing market ever. New tower cranes are popping up everywhere. Districts outside of downtown are booming. And absolutely nothing is happening in the downtown waterfront, where Portland’s best urban housing should be. Housing on the river will reconnect the city to the waterfront, make streets safer, and ease traffic congestion. It also will make downtown a more desirable location for business, retail and culture. We’ve given the waterfront ample time to develop, yet it remains a rummage of parking lots and underused buildings. Nothing will happen if development is left to the private sector. There are too many hurdles. This is exactly why we have the Portland Development Commission: to catalyze projects and make key areas more appealing to private investment.

The existing Fire One site is the best chance for a catalyst project in the district. It needs to become housing in three years, to spur housing for the rest of the waterfront. It needs restaurants and markets on the ground floor to reawaken Ankeny Plaza and set the stage for the Portland Public Market. If the site remains a fire station, with no housing and blank walls facing Ankeny Plaza, it’s likely that there will be no housing on the waterfront for another generation. Our downtown and our local economy can’t wait that long.

Since last fall, hurricanes, oil price spikes and construction in China have increased construction costs 12 to 18%. Given this reality, all government projects should be reassessed, but key catalyst projects must still move forward. Fire One is clearly one of these. There are tremendous long-term economic benefits for our city if the waterfront becomes a housing neighborhood. Tax gains for a new housing district range from $4.5 to $5.5 per year alone, with 38% of that going directly to education. And imagine the revenue from the inevitable increase in business and retail activity.

Something must be done. Small things are always tied to much bigger things. This is not a matter of a new station vs. a remodel. The vitality of our downtown is at issue here, and therefore the vitality of Portland.

I agree with Stuart. One can't blame PDC for considering killing the Fire One project because they've had trouble with the architect and contractor for that project in doing it for the amount specified. But it would be very short-sighted and ultimately much more costly to let the result of this design competition die on the vine.

Some of you might be suspicious of Stuart's letter. Is he hoping the city will drop Hacker's winning proposal and choose the Emmons/Hennebery Eddy proposal after all? I don't think so. I think most all of us in the architecture community want Hacker's project to happen. Like the tram, Fire One is suffering from skyrocketing prices for construction materials and the inexperience that comes with not having managed a design competition (including its getting built) for so long.

Fire One and the tram are important projects in and of themselves, but there is an even greater significance here - the future of design competitions in Portland and the high-density, burgeoning urban neighborhoods these projects act as catalysts for.

Kaiser Group, Path Architecture, and the Future of North Williams

About a month ago Oregonian writer Stephen Beaven (who must have had cruel parents to give him such a rhymable name) wrote an article headlined “North Williams at edge of retail renaissance”. Aside from the missing preposition, the article introduced us to some names we might be hearing a lot more of in the future: Kaiser Group development and Path Architecture.

The two companies are essentially the same, owned and operated by partners Ben Kaiser and Corey Martin. Kaiser in particular is trained as an architect, even though he has worked more as a developer here since relocating from Ohio several years ago.

As Beaven’s article indicated, Kaiser and Martin are behind two projects slated for the North Williams area, which is ideally situated near the revitalized North Mississippi area as well as Martin Luther King Boulevard, Irvington and the Lloyd District. It’s another one of Portland’s under-utilized yet perfectly situated sub-pockets just crying out for redevelopment.

Kaiser Group commissioned the architects at Ankrom Moisan to design one of their projects, Backbridge Lofts. Having an architectural background as clients seems to have helped Kaiser and Martin residential condo project.

Acting under the Path Architecture banner, the two partners have also designed an adjacent project of their own: the mixed-use Backbridge Station. I’m particularly fond of this building. As you can see in the enclosed rendering, the design is clean lined and modern, yet is warmed up texturally by the use of wood – somewhat like Holst Architecture’s celebrated Belmont Lofts. Here, though, Path has also responded to our rainy climate by extending the upper floors over the ground-floor retail, which gives visitors shelter from the rain. The columns in front almost act like an arcade you’d find on East Burnside or various European cities. As it happens, that design element also gives the four-story building a greater sense of lightness. You get a sense of separation between the glassy ground floor and the wood-concrete-glass fusion above. I also like how there’s no bulky mechanical system on the roof corrupting the architectural form.

In the Oregonian article, Kaiser said he hoped to build condos for about $280 per square foot, but now he says it’s probably going to be between $300 and $325. That’s certainly cheaper than what units in the Pearl and South Waterfront are going for, and you get a long-established neighborhood with a colorful history to go with it. The price is still more than what a lot of young creative types will be able to afford, but for a building framed with steel and concrete occupying coveted real estate, it’s pragmatically agreeable.

What’s the initial verdict from the rest of you on this duo of urban infill projects?

The Benson Tower

I’ve been meaning to write about this project for some time. After all, news of the proposed 26-story West End residential building at SW 11th Avenue, former site of the Simon Benson House, first came nearly three years ago. (The tower, in case you're wondering, is named for Simon Benson - not, say, Benson Dubois.)

From the outset, the Benson Tower will be one of the tallest buildings in Portland, and certainly one of the tallest residential buildings. It’s thin and sleek and glassy, much like the celebrated Vancouver style. And that’s no accident. The project is designed by Vancouver-based architecture firm IBI/HB, which has no less than 25 different highrise residential projects in that city alone listed on its website – and additional ones in Beijing, Arizona, Las Vegas, Anaheim and San Diego.

I’m curious of what others think of the Benson Tower’s design, at least based on the renderings. Even after looking at various images of this project for a couple years, I just don’t have a strong feeling about it. The building’s tall, thin shape seems to characterize its visual quality more so than specific design moves. I think that’s a testament to the fact that Portland has done right by allowing height limits to change. You can do a building in these proportions that may be unextraordinary, and it looks a lot better than something shorter and fatter with the same materials and design hands behind it.

The upper portion reminds me a little bit of the Fox Tower. It must be something about the glassy façade outlined in white. The mechanical systems on top are also camouflaged by a curving quarter-circle that gives the building a sense of motion and flair. A crucial aspect of how the building looks in person will be the specific material choices. Is the glass reflective? How do the non-glass material portions of the façade appear?

The Benson breaks from the norm a little bit in that it will not have any retail on the ground floor. Instead, if my memory serves me correctly, there will be a water feature. Mixed-use is always ideal for generating activity on the street, but with so many buildings going up these days, there just isn’t enough real estate demand to have the bottom of every new condo filled with retail tenants. Besides, in the West End you already have plenty of options.

Meanwhile, what do the rest of you think of the Benson?

Countering the Loud Anti-Tram Minority

In today's Oregonian Ryan Frank reports on a town-hall-style meeting organized by Commissioner Sam Adams and held Tuesday night about Portland's aerial tram.

"More than 200 people turned out," Frank writes. "If they're a valid sample of the city, Portlanders are wringing their hands over the tram."

Frank then goes on to quote a succession of people voicing their opposition -- all of whom are from neighborhoods over which the tram would operate.

That doesn't sound to me like a "valid sample of the city".

We've known for several weeks now that the tram is going to cost far more than originally expected, a threefold increase over initial estimates. We also know that those initial estimates were hopelessly naive and ridiculously small. It's also common knowledge that rising costs for steel have driven up the price of construction projects all over the nation, if not the world.

And yet here we are, after talking about all these issues until our faces are blue, and now we've come full circle, with not-in-my-backyard whining constituting the majority of public debate on this issue.

Despite its coming through a process all of us are frustrated by, the tram is a crucial public infrastructure project that will help facilitate one of the most ambitious and important urban expansions in Portland's entire history. One can't blame people under the tram's path for fighting it. Everybody has the right to highly subjective opinions that put their own interests ahead of the collective civic good.

But with all due respect to Frank, a good reporter, and The Oregonian, a paper I also write for, I think it's necessary for those of us who support the tram to respond when media reports such as this create a false impression that the tram isn't wanted.

Whether the naysayers come in the form of the NIMBY minority or from elected officials in City Hall more concerned with short-term political realities than long-term needs of the city, it's important that those of us supporting the tram and the high-density, sustainable, mass-transit-oriented development it's part of stand up and have our say as well.

Two Portland Firms Vying For Japanese Stadium

Portland and Nagoya-based Architecture W, along with Portland’s Ziba Design and international engineering firm Arup are teaming together on a proposal for a new baseball stadium in Hiroshima.

According to Brian White of Architecture W, the proposal came together because his partner, Michel Weenick, “…has a good friend at Credit Suisse First Boston in Tokyo and he asked Michel if he new anybody who could do a baseball stadium as he had some clients that wanted to invest in the Hiroshima stadium. So Michel and I were talking about who to recommend and eventually we just decided to tell him we could do it. We thought about who were the best people we could get for this job.  I wanted to somehow use the design power in PDX as a base.”

Not only was Ziba tapped to help round the architectural design proposal with a complete branding campaign for the stadium’s occupant, the Carps baseball team, but White also sought out German landscape designer Herbert Dreiseitl, who designed Portland’s Tanner Springs Park.

“Dreiseitl landscaping plan is quite beautiful,” White says, “and includes his green thinking on water as the idea behind our design is that the Hiroshima Carp should incorporate a modern version of a Koi pond that also serves as a water reclamation/filtration system for this particular part of the city.”

“Hiroshima has this wonderful peace festival that reminds people of the destruction that took place there where they float basically all sorts of brown bags with candles down the river,” he continues. “It is quite a beautiful event and our scheme was to create a lantern that symbolizes Hiroshima’s unique place in history and also serves as a symbol for the city as the stadium sits along the Shinkansen line right before the main train station.”

“We were a little nervous as we were obviously the small fish in the sea of consultants but we were the client's ears so we held our own. Like I said, a lot of the Japanese associates were a little skeptical of the team but after they saw our first pass, the client and everybody was on board with our direction.”

The proposal, which is competing with four or five others for the contract, was submitted last week, and White expects they’ll receive word in about a month.

Meanwhile, just the fact that a tiny firm like Architecture W has become a finalist for a giant baseball stadium I think speaks to the fact that local clients can turn to them for bigger commissions than the single-family homes that they’ve been doing here.

Belluschi's Pan-Am Building

Earlier this month while visiting New York, I took the enclosed photo of the Met Life Building (originally known, of course, as the Pan Am Building). Actually, it was on the way to LaGuardia Airport going out of town. The reason the image seems distorted is because it was shot through the filter of the bus's tinted window.

Rising above Grand Central Station in the middle of Park Avenue, the building's location alone makes it a monumental piece of architecture. And because it was co-designed by Portland's Pietro Belluschi (along with the great Walter Gropius), I feel on some level a more personal connection to it, even though while I was attending college in New York the skyscrapers of Midtown felt far less human than my home turf in Greenwich Village.

Despite my guarded affinity (it is on the brutal side, after all) for the Pan Am, the building received almost universal derision upon its completion in 1963. After searching on Google for information about the project, I came across a website for Meredith Clausen's book, "The Pan Am Building and the Shattering of the Modernist Dream"....

The Pan Am Building and the reaction to it signaled the end of an era. Begun when the modernist aesthetic and the architectural star system ruled architectural theory and practice, the completed building became a symbol of modernism's fall from grace. In The Pan Am Building and the Shattering of the Modernist Dream, Meredith Clausen (also a Belluschi biographer) tells the story as both history and cautionary tale -- a case study of how not to plan and execute a large-scale urban project that seems especially relevant in light of the World Trade Center and the ongoing discussions over what should be built in its place.

The Pan Am Building was despised by many as soon as the plans were announced in 1958. The star power of the celebrity architects -- those deans of modernism, Walter Gropius and Pietro Belluschi -- overrode critics' objections. When construction was completed in 1963, it became more than an architectural question; this "mute, massive, overscaled octagonal slab," as Clausen describes it, built over Grand Central Terminal, blocked the view down Park Avenue, created deep shadows where there had been sunlight, and poured 25,000 office workers on the sidewalks each morning and evening. As Clausen tells it, the story of the building -- which was undistinguished architecturally but important because of its location and its moment in history -- encompasses the end of modernism's social idealism, the decline of Gropius's and Belluschi's reputations, the victory of private interests over public good, the revival of architectural criticism in the press (both Ada Louise Huxtable and Jane Jacobs emerged as prominent and influential critics), the birth of the historic preservation movement, and the changing culture and politics of New York City.

I'm curious what local architects (and enthusiasts) think of the Pan Am, particularly with the hindsight of history. Forgetting for a moment the previous judgments of this building, how does it look in 2006? I feel like that building's simple forms give it a degree of enduring dignity, especially since this era of modernism yielded some awe-inspiring architecture. But I'm not sure how many others out there would feel the same. Belluschi is revered here, and deservedly so. But what do y'all make of this one?

Metro, Open Spaces, and Ballot Measures (updated)

In today's Oregonian, Laura Oppenheimer reports that Metro is expected to put a $227.4 million bond measure on the November ballot to buy 5,300 acres of open space across the Portland area. The space would be set aside for habitat protection and other uses in advance of many of these parcels being built upon to serve a rapidly growing protection.

Not to toot my own horn, but the issue reminds me of my own article in this month's Metropolis magazine about Tanner Springs Park in the Pearl District, designed by noted German landscape designer Herbert Dreiseitl (with an assist from Portland's Greenworks). Although it does so more symbolically, Tanner Springs Park is a small 200-by-200-foot block-sized park that restores the terrain of marsh and tall grass that existed there before Portland was settled. Additionally, it represents a new era of decentralized habitat protection.

Gone is the time when habitat protection consisted of setting aside one or just a few large parcels of land and calling it a day. Instead, wildlife advocates seem to agree, it's better to introduce a decentralized "green infrastructure" into the urban fabric. That can mean green roofs or small pocket-sized parks in Portland's urban core, or it can mean places like Willamette Narrows, Wapato Lake, Damascus Buttes and the Tualatin River Greenway in the city's surrounding environs.

In Oppenheimer's article, a local activist in suburban Aloha says he thinks Metro is mistaken to put the greenspaces vote before the voters. There are just too many other bond measures asking for voters' approval, he argues: renewals of a Portland levy for children's services, a Multnomah County library levy, and so on. The activist, Eric Squires, suggests Metro should instead tax the construction industry.

I think the best way to pay for these crucial greenspaces is indeed to have every citizen pay equally, and not to single out the construction industry unfairly.

That said, I'd have to agree with Squires that the voters very well may reject this $227 million measure. Or even if they do approve it, that could hurt the chances of other worthy funding measures passing. Maybe it's my own bias, but I think the voting public has time and time again proven either too cheap or too ignorant to fund valid programs. It's a shame that Metro is willing to offer voters the chance to destroy a desperately needed network of open spaces.

If there's an Achilles heel to Oregon's political culture, I think it's way too many ballot measures. I wish our elected officials had the courage to raise much-needed revenue without giving voters a chance to harm the future. I know that sounds almost socialist in tone, and I don't necessarily mean it that way. But when investments like these even come close to peril, it frustrates me that this is anything but a no-brainer. Don't we elect these people to make this kind of tough decision?

After all, we need these natural areas not just for wildlife habitat, but for ourselves.

Post-blog post addendum: After writing this post, Metro Councilor Brian Newman wrote to explain the following:

"Metro Council must refer general obligation bond measures to the voters. We do not have the authority to approve it without a public vote. Furthermore, any other mechaanism would also require a vote since our agency has a spending cap that can only be exceeded with a vote of the public."

After which time I told him, "I may have been wrong on this. If Metro is obligated to put something like this before the voters, obviosly that changes things. My larger point, though, still stands: There are certain worthy public works endeavors, be it infrastructure, open spaces or otherwise, that necessitate tax increases. But often when put to a popular vote, the voters reject measures simply because they don't like the notion of the tax. What I was trying to express, above all, was how important the provision of these open spaces is, and how I don't trust a majority of the electorate to sufficiently appreciate that to agree to a tax hike."

To which Councilor Newman replied, "I agree that many politicians evade tough votes. This is not the case with this measure and I appreciate the opportunity to explain the situation. Let's hope the public supports what we are trying to accomplish with the bond measure and we are successful in November. I am cautiously optimistic."

One question: Am I the only one who was led to believe by today's Oregonian story that there was the possibility of doing this without a bond measure? I guess it would benefit us all, myself included, to understand how and why funding for certain programs and projects must be approved by the voters and why other things needn't. I'm no genius, but if I, someone who makes his living learning about and communicating this info, is confused by it all, how must most others feel? This post was originally about Metro and open spaces, but it's eventually become much more about the practicalities and rules of government funding.

Street of Eames Primer

This month the gallery at the American Institute of Architects/Portland is featuring the six homes that will be included in the Street of Eames homes tour on April 8. The tour benefits Project Return at Chapman Elementary School, an after-school program for homeless children.

The tour features four single family residences: Pietro Belluschi's Joss House, Van Evera Bailey's Dixon House, Herman Brookman's Powers House, and Robert Rummer's Miller/Cho House. There are also two units from multifamily housing projects: Holst Architecture's Belmont Street Lofts and Allied Works' 2281 Glisan Street.

Below are text descriptions of two of the homes, the Joss and Dixon, written by students in the University of Oregon's School of Architecture/Portland Center and edited by Street of Eames co-organizer Becca Cavell of Thomas Hacker Architects, who also received the Van Evera Bailey fellowship late last year from the Architecture Foundation of Oregon to study Portland's midcentury modern residential homes.

Dixon House (Van Evera Bailey)
The Dixon House, originally commissioned by Mr. and Mrs. Dixon perches daringly on the side of a steep hill.  Built on stilts to accommodate the steep terrain, the house is an excellent example of the bold and creative designs of residential architect Van Evera Bailey. 

From the street the semi-circular driveway directs visitors to a modest, welcoming entrance sheltered by an overhanging butterfly roof.  Inside, public areas are located to the west and private to the east.  Large, south-facing windows throughout the house take advantage of views and let in light during long rainy months.

The living and dining areas share the same larger space, and the kitchen is open to those areas, making it a central part of the activity.  The informal relationship between public areas reflects the fact that the house was designed as a place to entertain, where guests and hosts could easily mingle and talk. This “open plan” blurs the distinction between spaces and enhances the perception of volume and light.

Bailey used wood extensively throughout the house.  The structural fir ceiling gives texture and warmth.  The driveway is also composed of laminated wood boards laid on edge, and topped with a 2-inch layer of asphalt.  The arch of the driveway connects the house to the curb retaining wall to resist lateral (earthquake) loads.  Much of the house is supported on by 10” x 16” wood beams, which rest on 3-1/2” pipe columns.  The west hills of Portland were a testing ground for building houses on stilts, and the Dixon house is no exception. 

Joss House (Pietro Belluschi)
The Josses acquired a hilltop property from their family. The site enjoyed expansive views to Mt. Hood and down the Tualatin Valley. The young couple commissioned Belluschi, who a year earlier had published drawings for a theoretical $4,500 home, to build a small house for $5,300.

Ultimately L-shaped in plan, the house is placed below the hillcrest. Like Wentz Cottage and perhaps showing influences from Frank Lloyd Wright’s Usonian model as well, clapboard of rough spruce horizontally hung reinforces the home’s horizontal wings. Guests enter the house from the east, protected by a deep eave. Following the low entrance hall north, the short stretch of the L expands to another Wentz Cottage attribute: a double-height living space encased in knotty cedar siding held painstakingly flush. Exposed trusses and almost floor-to-ceiling windows frame a concrete fireplace included to suit the Norwegian character Mrs. Joss sought. According to the current owner, a niece of the Josses, Mrs. Joss greatly admired a small Norwegian pavilion at the Treasure Island Exposition visited while on honeymoon in San Francisco. Belluschi also acquired Antonin Raymond’s book Architectural Details shortly before designing the Joss Residence. The book includes a image with a distinct resemblance to the fireplace. Lying opposite the living room’s fireplace, a multi-tier bookshelf built against the stairs divides the served from the service programmatic elements, a characteristic of both Yeon and Belluschi’s regional modernism.

Belluschi prepared the Josses well for expansion when money allowed. Where once stood the carport, at the end of the south wing that contains the bedrooms and bath, now rests a den. The second story over the kitchen, the knuckle of the L, also was only roughed in, but again the Josses added a bed and bathroom as the family grew. The west wing’s overextending sloped roof provided an outdoor room that has yet been realized as a shelter for a studio.

The current owner has recently remodeled the kitchen, in a manner sympathetic to the original design. Belluschi penned drawings for another proposed addition opposite the second-story bedroom that would continue the roof slope up to the existing ridge in an effort to preserve the low-lying nature of the house.  This simple and elegant home is a typical expression of NW Regional Style and has benefited from Belluschi’s foresight in designing with future expansion in mind.

I'll Take Portland

A few weeks ago a local architect friend wrote me to say he’d just come back from New York City. He was breathless with excitement at the city’s architectural treasures and its vibrant never-sleep urban spirit. He told me it was pretty tough coming back to Portland.

Well, I just got back from a trip of my own to New York and Washington, DC. With my friend’s comments in my mind, and because the two cities are significant ones (the nation’s political and cultural/financial capitals, respectively), not to mention cities I lived in for most of the 1990s, I couldn’t help but compare the Big Apple and the inner Beltway to Portland once more.

But I came to a different conclusion than my friend did. Let’s just say I’m very happy to be back.

Going to NYC and DC, one can’t help but feel impressed by the skyline. In DC it’s the White House, Capitol, Washington Monument and other landmarks that stand out, while New York has not only individual icons such as the Empire State building and Statue of Liberty, but the sheer scale and vastness of Manhattan. You can see that skyline from miles away like you can Hood, St. Helens and Adams—only they’re man made, veritable Egyptian pyramids for America.

Of course in terms of cultural offerings, no city in America, or perhaps even the world, can beat New York City. The array of art, food and entertainment available is too limitless to mention.

But in both cities—especially New York—there’s a layer of soot and grime covering everything. The entire infrastructure, from roads and sidewalks to even the lampposts, seems to have long since fallen into decay. Even if you're one of the select few who can afford a beautiful brownstone, you can't escape the harshness of the city. (I saw a homeless man walking barefoot in 18-degree weather; it broke my heart, but I knew from experience that if I lived there, I'd be much less phased.)

On a human level, you buy something at a store and the clerk never says one word but the amount of money due and never once looks you in the eye. (I know these are more often than not good people, but they sure don't show it in public. You can't do it there and expect to survive.)

Wilsonville or Cedar Mill would be considered inner suburbs in the East Coast megalopolis. Scaffolding clings to seemingly every other building. Warranted or not, there's a constant feeling of threat that The Big One - not an earthquake but some massive bomb - is inevitably going to come.

In Manhattan the winter sun shines much more regularly than it does here, but the height of the buildings means you’re usually walking in shadow. Oh, and you think a break from the rain is nice? Most of the year it’s either way too hot and humid or way too cold and icy.

I think New York is to the United States what the foyer is to a McMansion. In these places people are dwarfed by the scale of the place they inhabit. The scale of built form is grander there, more impressive to behold than wherever else you'll go. The rest of the space is smaller and less vibrant, but more humane. There's less drama but you can let your guard down a little more. I love passing through New York, but I'd sure rather live here.

When you're talking about Washington, it's really the greater metro area that includes area in Maryland and Virginia. The District of Columbia is a very small geographical pocket. And the city was once known as the murder capitol of America. The intersection of states with the district has meant that the city is severed as a working entity.

Except for pockets like Georgetown and Mount Pleasant, most people earning higher incomes live in Maryland or Virginia, and there is insufficient tax revenue to account for the needs of an under-privileged poor population already burdened, as a mostly African-American population, with intense racism. DC has rebounded like a lot of inner American cities, but the Bush administration certainly hasn't helped things with slashed funding for education and social services and a tax plan favoring the wealthy. In DC these underlying themes are indispensible from a view of the city.

Because local building codes limit height in order to preserve the integrity of the monuments on the Mall, the nation's capitol does have a more human scale akin to Paris or other European cities. It's got a stunning museum collection, and they're all free. There's also a legendary punk rock scene, which earns it a gold star with yours truly.

But the downside of DC's smaller-scale urban fabric is that it adds to the feeling that this where no matter how important the running of the country may be at certain addresses in the middle of Washington, in terms of everyday life the suburbs have swallowed the city there.

While visiting for the last week, I had a great time even as DC and NYC annoyed and exhausted me. I love New York’s subway, how it covers ground so much more quickly than MAX or the streetcar and how you can always count on a station being located conveniently nearby. NYC and DC also have real museums—sorry PAM and OHS, but you’d be second or third-tier there at best.

But without fail, everyone I whom I told I was from Portland launched into a soliloquy about what a great city they thought it was. How beautiful both the urban and natural landscapes were. What great wine and beer and coffee we had, and how many smart, creative people they knew who had migrated there. That it was, like NY and LA and a handful of other larger cities, a liberal oasis amidst a desert of conservativism. Sure, the city is a little small and provincial. But overall there’s something successful and even spiritual happening in Portland. That was the message I got.

As much as I love great architecture and urban planning, I'm glad that the icons on our landscape are snow-capped mountains. I don't even visit Oregon's natural wonders very often, but it's humbling to be reminded so regularly of how we fit onto the land. When I was in college in New York, I remember being depressed because I couldn't see the horizon. Much as I loved the pizza, the city made me feel like a jack in the box.

While it’s always fun to visit these two Meccas of America, I’m even happier every time I come back. Oh, and did I mention how much nicer our airport is?