Portland Architecture

Pilgrimage to Fallingwater

Sunday I made a trip that for any architecture fan or architect must be akin to a Muslim's pilgrimage to Mecca: to see Frank Lloyd Wright's Fallingwater in Mill Run, Pennsylvania, which the American Institute of Architects ranked in 2000 as the greatest work of American architecture of the 20th century. No argument here, folks.

There isn't anything around it. We'd started the day at a low-quality Quality Inn in Morgantown, West Virginia. (Visiting a nephew-in-law at school there.) Along the way we passed along winding country highways through towns like Point Marion, a dying coal town with dilapidated old row houses along main street and chintzy trailers on the outskirts. Not one person was on the streets. A little further down the road was Fort Necessity, a Civil War battlefield. But mostly it was just rolling Appalachian hills, forests of winter-bare deciduous trees, lots of roadkill, and not the slightest hint of modern architecture anywhere.

Then we pulled into Fallingwater's grounds, my heart almost beating out of my chest. (I'd given my traveling companions the evil eye for daring to want to stop for breakfast along the way.) When we pulled into the parking lot, Wright's house still wasn't visible - just a visitors' center. We were supposed to wait until our 10AM tour started to go down the trail, but I couldn't help myself and jogged down toward the nearest viewpoint.

At first, from that initial angle a few hundred yards away, Fallingwater didn't necessarily look incredible: a series of intersecting planes and boxes. But when it was finally time for the tour, it took scarcely little time for my jaw to drop. We crossed a little bridge over Bear Run river, and came beside a stairway leading from the house right down to the river. It'd turn out to be coming from the living room, where a ship-like glass hatch opened up near one of the sofas and descended right down to the water.

Inside, the house was literally carved into the hillside. Its fireplace was a combination of locally quarried stone that had been combined and fused with the boulders originally sitting on-site, so the fireplace simply extended as part of that boulder there for thousands of years. It was an overcast morning, but there weren't any electric lights on.

The most distinguishing feature of the Fallingwater house is probably its cluster of large outdoor terraces that cantilever out from the facade right out and over the river and about a twenty-foot waterfall. In fact, when I went out on the terrace from the master bedroom and looked down over the ledge, the waterfall was directly beneath. I think it was at that point the tears started to well up a little.

There was also a lot of glass, and I particularly remember a corner of the wall that opened up with two little swinging doors, so not only the glass itself disappeared, but also did so without any hinges in between, so the whole corner of the glass wall merely disappeared.

There was also a guest house and servants' quarters behind the main house, and to give you an idea of the level of genius that went into every detail of the design, we spent several minutes with the tour guide studying just the canopy connecting the two, which was made of one incredibly large piece of concrete that terraced down the hill for about twenty yards.

I also remember the ventilation system, in which all the vents were built into the already custom-made furniture. There was also a desk in one room that was carved around a slinging glass window opening like a quarter of a pie. Oh, and then there was the artwork: I saw two Picassos and two Diego Riveras, but the tour guide didn't even have time to mention them.

In addition to the concrete and glass, a signature feature of the house is its undulating stone facade, which perfectly mimics the natural outcroppings of stone along the riverbank. This is perhaps the best time to mention the overriding feature of the house, how it exemplifies the way modern architecture acts in harmony with nature. This is not cold unfeeling modernism, but a kind of minimalist sculpture that resonates with as much life as the trees and flowing river beside.

Aside from maybe the All-American super burger at the 'Eat & Park' restaurant in Morgantown, I can't necessarily recommend a lot of other reasons to fly across the country and then drive several more hours to this middle-of-nowhere locale. And yet, being at this house you feel like you're in the center, at the apex, of human achievement. A few minutes before writing this, I belatedly watched No Country For Old Men, a brilliant work but one all about the inevitable tide of death, viciousness and violence. It was nice to recover by thinking of Fallingwater, which seems to represent the exact opposite.

Frank Lloyd Wright isn't even necessarily my touchstone when it comes to architects; I'm more of a Mies man, personally. But seriously, if I were talking to any of you reading this in person, I'd grab you by the lapels and shake you until you agreed to (excluding the low quality Quality Inn at which my day began) make this same pilgrimage.

PDC Board Approves LAB Holding Selection For Centennial Mill

The Portland Development Commission's board of directors has accepted and approved the recommendation of developer LAB Holding for the Centennial Mills project.  It was a unanimous vote and represents the final step in the process of selecting a development team following a recommendation by the Centennial Mills Evaluation Committee and Executive Director Warner. 

“The Centennial Mills site is a key catalytic redevelopment project for both Portland’s waterfront and the North Downtown area,” said PDC Chairman Mark Rosenbaum.  “We are in good hands with LAB Holding and the Board feels confident the company will deliver an extraordinary project for those who work, live and enjoy downtown."

The PDC board received a lot of criticism for going against the recommendation of its evaluation committee on the still-moribound Burnside Bridgehead. You could say they learned from their mistake, but a more accurate answer is probably that they trusted LAB's finances more than the recommended Beam Construction for the Bridgehead job.

Regardless of this decision by the board, a future issue should arguably still be the makeup of that board. The members seem to come much more from financial and business backgrounds than anything related to design. In the long run, whether LAB was the right choice here or not, that's got to change.

With the board's approval, the next step is for PDC and LAB to negotiate a formal Disposition and Development agreement. But the disposition of the economy will surely also figure into when this new Centennial Mills site will really get built.

And for goodness sake, it's past time for LAB and its CEO, Shaheen Sadeghi, to start working not just with PDC, but also to form a real relationship with Hoyt Street Properties, the developer who has built pretty much everything directly across Naito Parkway from the Mills. There's a great deal to figure out about how this isolated site will interconnect with the Pearl, not to mention the as-yet unbuilt northernmost portions of the Pearl near the Fremont Bridge.

Meanwhile, to borrow from 'The Price Is Right' announcer Rod Roddy, Shaheen Sadeghi, come on down!

Oden Prefers Portland To 'Burbs

Granted this is not a hugely significant news item, but in an Oregonian article about Greg Oden last week they happened to mention at the end that he plans to get rid of his suburban place near the Blazers' practice facility and move into a condo in either the Pearl District or South Waterfront. Apparently fellow Blazer Channing Frye already has a condo in SoWa, as does New Orleans Hornets' forward Desmond Mason (whose wife is from here). Fye, in fact, said he plans to live in his Portland SoWa condo regardless of whether he goes to another NBA team down the road.

Obviously NBA players are not like the rest of us, but it's interesting to see how sometimes their choices about anything from fashion to entertainment to housing can act as somewhat of a bellwether case.

Neither Oden, Frye or Mason is any kind of urbanist per se. But Blazer players have usually lived in either the suburbs (be it banal Tigard or tony Dunthorpe/Lake Oswego) or the West Hills. What does it say that Blazers are buying in, both figuratively and literally, to the changing face of urban Portland?

Most of us aren't millionaires like NBA players, but being rich, young, and coming from places all around the country, it's interesting to see what parts of Portland they gravitate too. I remember when I was growing up in the 1980s hearing that Oregon's beauty and Portland's niceness were an asset in attracting and retaining talent. Other times, it seemed like most players felt Portland was too much of a backwater burg -- and too white -- to feel like a home. Has the pendulum shifted again?

Oh, and Greg: maybe they'll put a jeweler in the ground floor of one of those condos - a place where you can get your championship ring(s) adjusted without even walking out into the rain.

Streetcar Desire

Yesterday when I boarded a plane for beautiful Newark (time to visit the in-laws), bleary-eyed by the early hour, the one Oregonian article I had to read right away before dozing off in my cramped coach seat was the announcement by Portland transportation planners of the streetcar's probable future lines.

Granted as an east-sider I'm biased, but it was so exciting seeing routes going down Hawthorne, Belmont, Glisan, Alberta, MLK, and several other main streets and boulevards. Ever since I moved to Portland 10 years ago from New York (I'm an Oregon native though), I've often recalled seeing streetcar tracks from a hundred years ago and felt a strong sad sense of irony that the city had a much more extensive streetcar network in the early 20th century than the early 21st. Of course it's the same in virtually any big American city, but to imagine Portland's neighborhoods with a whole network of streetcars is to me very exciting.

(Incidentally, I'd meant to post the paper's map of proposed streetcar routes into this post, but am having trouble on the in laws' computer. You can view a PDF of the map here.)

I'm also reminded of an opinion article in Oregon Business magazine several months ago called "The Pixie Dust of Streetcars". The author talked about how wasteful it is for hugely expensive streetcars, whose routes can't be changed once the tracks are in, only succeed in replacing buses that we already have. Many of us know that, as that author smartly omitted from his attack, that streetcars are about much more than transporting people from Point A to Point B. You can't look at transit in a vacuum, but rather how it relates to the holistic picture of the city and its neighborhoods. It's a development tool.

That, too, can have a downside, because it's arguably a skewed set of priorities in my mind to choose streetcar routes based on what economic pied-piper effect they might have instead of where people would want the lines and use them the most. Building a line to South Waterfront, for example, before you build one in Southeast, is to me a skewed sense of priority.

Even so, the sense I get of someday living in this city and taking streetcars most of the places I want to go, instead of my car or a smoke belching bus, is really cool.

Portland Center Stage Removes James Harrison Light Sculpture

Portland Center Stage, occupant of the renovated Portland Armory (now known as the Gerding Theater), has removed the sculptural marquee it commissioned from acclaimed local artist James M. Harrison for its 2006 opening.

The piece is called "Aiorema" after the Greek word for "God in the Machine". On his website, Harrison explains, "Originally this was a more literal concept- a crane used in ancient Greek theater for flying in the gods.  I thought this was an appropriate way to link old and new.  New Theater, Old Concept- Old Building, New Marquee, etc."

The sculpture is made from stacked layers of light diffusing acrylic pieces. It's shaped like a cloud at the base, and shaped like a star against the sky.  The layers gradually transition from the one shape to the other shape.

Harrison first gained notice in Portland as part of the art-architecture collective Rigga. He's done sculpture for the Eastbank Esplanade as well as projects in Seattle, London and elsewhere. Those 'beehive' booths at the Gotham Building Tavern were also his, designed in partnership with the restaurant's co-owner, Michael Hebb, who has since moved on to Seattle (with tail betwen his legs).

Harrison was also the initial choice for the public art commission in Old Town/Chinatown that ultimately went to that dragon sculpture that was removed for offending locals, particularly Chinese-Americans. The light sculpture James made would have been a vastly better choice, but to the selection committee it apparently wasn't enough of a tchotchke, which ironically turned out to be the problem with the sculpture they did choose.

In the Aiorema light sculpture's place outside the Armory is a new sign that acts more as a traditional marquee. I spoke with a few people from Portland Center Stage about this, including artistic director Chris Coleman. What I sympathize with the most is their assertion that Portland Center Stage needed a sign that does more to draw people inside. It's perfectly reasonable for them to want a marquee that advertises the plays being put on and so forth.

However, it also seems that a major driving force in the removal of Harrison's sculpture besides the need for more explicit signage is that Portland Center Stage's leadership simply wasn't crazy about Aiorema. The message I heard from PCS was that they were big fans of Harrison's work before and after this one, but that they were disappointed by Aiorema. It wasn't tall enough. It had a funny shape. It was hard to clean.

I'd wondered if a compromise could be found in which the new marquee could stay at the entrance, but Harrison's light sculpture could be moved elsewhere, such as to the other side of the Gerding Theater along 10th Avenue. So far, though, my understanding is that Aiorema will not be relocated. Depending on whom you talk to, it seems to be a board member who doesn't like Aiorema, or a member of PCS in-house leadership. But for whatever reason, they're just not into it.

This brings up an important question. PCS paid Harrison $45,000 for the sculpture (not a lot for that kind of piece but still a large chunk of change), and they own it. They can do whatever they want with Aiorema, including remove it or even destroy it. PCS hasn't done the latter; the sculpture is in storage at the theater. But in the year or two that the sculpture has been standing and glowing on 11th Street, I and many others have developed a fondness for it. What recourse do fans of public artwork have when the client decides they don't like a piece that we do? I also wondered if somehow the sculpture could be altered to remove the name 'Portland Center Stage'. Heck, why not move it to Chinatown where the remains of that removed dragon sculpture sit pitifully?

I also think PCS's need for a bigger, more obvious sign speaks to the architecture of the Gerding Theater. Historic preservation laws would have prevented a major alteration of the Armory, and we might not have wanted that anyway. But in transitioning from an armory to a welcoming public theater, I don't think the architects or client solved the issue of what a massive barrier exists there. One of the exciting aspects of the Gerding Theater was supposed to be that it acted as a people magnet and as a place to congregate even when there wasn't theater showing: a viable public space. I don't the theater does that at all. It's a very nice theater inside, but it still feels like an armory on the outside. And armories were explicitly built to forcefully keep people out.

On top of that, the building's entrance was switched from the 10th Avenue side, where there's a big curving architectural entryway, to the 11th Avenue side. That means they're swimming against the current, so to speak, in directing people into the building. When you make a move like that, you need big obvious, airport-like signage to show people the way.

Harrison's piece isn't right for that mission. But however justified PCS is removing Aiorema, either legally or morally, I think they ought to bring Harrison's fine work back into the public realm where it belongs.

Kevin Cavenaugh Plans 14-Unit Housing Development By 13 Designers

Over the last several months, one of Portland’s most accomplished designer-developers, Kevin Cavenaugh, has been at Harvard University as part of a Loeb Fellowship, just as then-Oregonian architecture critic Randy Gragg did the prior academic year.

In the past, Cavenaugh has been responsible for the Rocket building on Burnside (the red one with the sunscreen panels featuring individual artworks and Rocket restaurant on top), the Ode to Rose’s mixed use building on Northeast Fremont (a local AIA award winner, with Fife restaurant on the ground floor), and another very successful mixed use project at Southeast 28th and Ankeny housing Noble Rot wine bar. Trained as an architect and previously employed at Fletcher Farr Ayotte, Kevin is not a registered architect and thus it is never his name listed as the architect of record on the documents, but they are definitely his buildings.

I wrote about Kevin a few years ago for a Metropolis magazine story about architects who develop their own projects. “Architects: Looking for the Perfect Client?” the headline asked. “Hire yourself!”

Recently I got a call from Kevin, still back in Cambridge until later this spring. His new project, or projects, would easily be his most ambitious yet.

On a site in Southwest Portland just south of downtown at the corner of Water Avenue and Arthur Street, an ideal location but with difficult hilly terrain, virtually no parking and limited access, Kevin is envisioning having built 14 different housing units – almost all of them by different designers. The details have changed a little bit over the few times we’ve talked and emailed, but I believe the latest would be to have Kevin design two himself, then divide the remaining 12 units equally between six Harvard Graduate School of Design students and six more established architects.

The Harvard students, as I understand it, would be graduating this spring and would probably consist largely of those with whom Kevin has already formed relationships with in lecturing about his plan as part of his Loeb Fellowship presentations. This is the text of a flyer he sent out at Harvard:

...1-WAY TICKET to PORTLAND. I am a Loeb Fellow at Harvard's GSD seeking a few select graduating designers to DESIGN AND BUILD fourteen small parcels with me in downtown Portland, OR. The project will showcase the finest in contemporary urban architecture from the nation's most promising young designers. Starting this summer, each participant will take full control over his/her development. I will help line up bank financing and construction services, but you ultimately you will need YOUR OWN MONEY to secure a loan. I will mentor you through the design and development process, but you will take on both the risks and rewards associated with your project. THIS IS NOT A JOB! 

As for the six established architects, I think that idea is still being hammered out. Kevin and I both agreed that it would be nice to bring in some admired out-of-town designers. Much talent as there is in Portland, I don’t think our design community is challenged much by work in town by out-of-town firms. However, I’d also love to see at least one of those spots reserved for a local. It’s Kevin’s decision, obviously, but I have imagined it being someone with demonstrated high quality residential experience, yet also someone for whom this project would represent a serious opportunity.

Kevin would surely appreciate more ideas about how to shape this process and the ultimate product. What advice might we give this onetime FFA intern who metamorphosed into the most interesting DIY designer-developer in a place already known for just that kind of maverick spirit?

Oh, and is it overly naive to wonder about a bigger developer ever taking on this kind of riskier but potentially far more appealing development?

More On Midcentury Modern

Last Friday felt like a class in midcentury architecture condensed into two hours. Which, in a way, it was.

First came a presentation from Becca Cavell at Thomas Hacker Architects and then I participated in a panel discussion with architect Paul Falsetto, realtor Bob Zaikoski and Becca about preserving midcentury modern architecture, moderated by architect Peter Meijer.

She cautioned the audience that she’s not a preservation expert. But her Powerpoint slideshow was based on a class she taught at the University of Oregon about the roots of the ‘Northwest Style’ of residential architecture embodied by Pietro Belluschi, John Yeon, and others.

As many architects know, those roots go back to early haciendas of Mexican culture, with their courtyard arrangements. The original ranch houses, built for actual ranches, was similarly often of a wrap-around, rectangular design open at one end but enclosed on three sides to keep cattle out. This plan helped inform the midcentury modern residential sides that were being adapted to orient themselves around the carports/garages and back yards of the post-World War II family, as seen in the work of architects like William Worster Wurster and even nontraditional sources like Sunset magazine and Sears.

A brief aside about the word modern: As has been discussed in comments to the preview post I wrote a few days ago, the term midcentury modern is in some ways an oxymoron, because the mid-20th century is now a piece of history, not to be confused with something from today. This gets confusing because today’s contemporary architecture is often similarly styled to mid-20th century modernism. I think of the word modern within the phrase midcentury modern to denote not something contemporary and of today, but more like the general term modernism as it relates to a vast spectrum of art, literature and music that first took root as a reaction to World War I but really took off after WWII.

When somebody says modern art, people usually understand that could mean Mark Rothko or Piet Mondrian, artists working many decades ago. That’s why the Portland Art Museum’s Jubitz Center is for ‘Modern and Contemporary Art’. Even though in a more literal sense they seem to mean the same thing, in common parlance they don’t.

Or, as Paul Falsetto put it more succinctly during our panel discussion, midcentury modern usually refers to an architectural style that flourished from about 1935-65.

Our panel discussion was, unlike Becca’s talk, more about commercial midcentury buildings than houses. Panelist Paul Falsetto did a good job of breaking down the inherent difficulty with preserving architecture from this era.

On one hand, something like 80% of America’s building stock consists of buildings constructed after World War II. So there is a very plentiful amount of architecture from the mid-20th century. But we all seemed to agree that not all of it should be preserved. When midcentury modern architecture is at its best, as in the work of Mies Van Der Rohe or a couple of our local midcentury architects, it’s as compelling as any architecture in human history. However, when it’s bad, these simplistic buildings are the worst, the ugliest.

Worse yet, many commercial midcentury buildings are in terrible shape precisely at the place that gives them most of their signature style: the exterior skin. Take Pietro Belluschi’s Equitable Building here in Portland at SW Sixth and Stark. Completed in 1946, it was the first building in the world with a sleek continuous aluminum and glass skin. If you see a photo of that building when it first opened, with 1940s cars driving by and men in fedoras, it looks like something out of The Jetsons. But aluminum and glass don’t provide very good weatherization for a lot of the buildings from this era. Energy was cheap in the mid-20th century, so they could just blast the buildings with air conditioning. But a half-century later, many of them are falling apart. Belluschi’s building isn’t really one of them. He knew how to build things solidly even with these newer materials that brought a sense of lightness. But so many other midcentury buildings all over the country are in serious disrepair, at least on their exteriors. Becca cited the example of a building at Sixth and Oak being renovated by SERA Architects into a hotel. Right now the skin is completely gone and the building is stripped down to its concrete floors and columns. The bones of the building were seemingly in fine shape, but energy costs probably necessitated the cost of rebuilding an entirely new exterior façade.

One person in the audience made an important point about preservation. Often it’s not the generation right afterward that appreciates a historical period’s architecture, but the one afterward. We’re saving a few important midcentury buildings, but plenty more are beginning to fall by the wayside. Even as people who love midcentury modern architecture, we on the panel all seemed okay with that. But should we be? Or is being realistic about the overall stock of these buildings going down the only way to look at it? I think all of us on the panel were being sensible, but if we’re not being extremist about preservation, who will be?

Second "Designs On Portland" Talk Features Skylab, Works Partnership

Tomorrow night (Wednesday, March 19) brings the second installment in a new bi-monthly discussion series I've partnered on with Design With Reach called Designs On Portland.

In January our first guest was Portland Spaces editor and former Oregonian architecture critic Randy Gragg. This time we'll have a trio of visitors to the DWR second floor studio to talk architecture and design: Jeff Kovel of Skylab Design Group, and Carrie Schilling and Bill Neburka of Works Partnership.

All three were part of the "Dreamers + Builders" story I wrote for The Oregonian recently on the city's top names in architecture and design. In particular, I think of Works and Skylab, along with Holst Architecture, as representing the best in local design by emerging studio-sized firms. There are many others, of course, but this will be an opportunity to learn about the inspirations, passions, and ideas behind these excellent firms and designers.

In my Oregonian story, I did lots of interviews with the 11 people on the list that didn't get used. Going back through my notes, I found these comments from Jeff Kovel interesting.

On the role Skylab plays in town he said, "We get hired to break paradigms and to reconceptualize the approach. There may be more experienced firms out there, but the product they produce is predictable. We get hired to do something unpredictable."

How Skylab works: "What we’ve come to is this studio environment that’s about anti-specialization. We’re trying to work on as broad a range of projects as possible and keep as many in the studio as possible."

On the emergence of smaller firms over the last decade: "Design was being reserved in 1988 for just a few architects. One of our first projects was a bar in Chinatown. That wasn’t being done by high quality designers. Another was a hair salon. The era we grew the firm into was one where design came back into the public realm. That’s helped promote the idea that there’s no inappropriate place to have high quality design."

Skylab and Works Partnership are also responsible for two of my favorite upcoming projects, Works' bSide6 office building and Skylab's as yet unnamed condo along West Burnside (which may also become a hotel), the latter of which is pictured above. Both designs have me more excited than I've ever been about any of the several large-scale condos built in the Pearl District or South Waterfront.

The Designs On Portland talk with Kovel, Schilling and Neburka will take place at 7PM at Design Within Reach in the Pearl District at the corner of NW 12th and Everett. Admission is free.

Visiting Pietro Belluschi's Burkes House

Last week I had the distinct treat of visiting not only a Pietro Belluschi-designed house in the West Hills, but one that the late great architect lived in through his final days. The Burkes House is actually still occupied by Belluschi’s widow, Marjorie, who graciously allowed their grandson Jeff to take me on a tour. It was conceived in 1944 for a Dr. and Mrs. DC Burkes, but built in 1947 after wartime restrictions on building materials were lifted.

Like a lot of homes associated with the mid-20th century ‘Northwest Style’ (those by Belluschi, John Yeon, Van Evra Bailey and developer Robert Rummer), the orientation is not toward the home’s entrance, where we pulled into an old-school carport. Once you step inside, though, there is great attention paid to the spectacular view of downtown Portland as well as to the courtyard-like enclosed back yard.

The view itself would be enough to sell most anyone on this house, but soon even the panorama of buildings, hills, roads and changing clouds you can see from nearly floor to ceiling glass gives away to the house itself. There is such a feeling of connection between inside and outside at Belluschi’s Burke House. The wood ceiling, for example, extends continuously past the glass walls outside as an overhang, yet the material doesn’t change. So whether you’re looking towards the downtown view or the other way towards the back yard, it seems like there is merely a glass partition between two of the house’s spaces that just happen to be indoor and outdoor.

Born in Italy, Belluschi was, despite being a Modernist architect, trained in Old World building and craftsmanship. So while the house’s design has a tremendous lightness to it, in the way one appreciates about modern architecture, there is also a clear sense of this house coming from an architect with an acute sense of structure and materials.

As Jeff Belluschi (who is quite the amateur scholar regarding his grandfather’s career) reminded me, wood provided Pietro with a kind of epiphany. His Italian forebears built with heavy stone and masonry. Wood allowed Belluschi to favor a lightness that old buildings could never pull off, but he also knew enough to let the exquisitely warm and natural texture to come through.

Not only was it a wonderful treat to talk with Marge and Jeff about Pietro, but I also was able to visit the architect’s former office, which has been left largely untouched save for a flat-screen TV that Marge happy watches CNN on. His T-square hangs over Belluschi’s old and surprisingly little desk by the window. (Belluschi’s drafting table is now kept at the AIA/Portland Center for Architecture.) And while there aren’t any mementos to his extraordinary achievements as an architect in the rest of the house, here in his old office hangs Belluschi’s 1972 Gold Medal from the American Institute of Architects (the medal represents a kind of hall-of-fame for the truly cream-of-the-crop all time great architects), as well as his 25-Year Award, also from the AIA, for the Equitable Building downtown – the world’s first modern office building with aluminum cladding.

One of my favorite features of the house is now gone: There used to be a koi goldfish pond outside in the back yard that Belluschi actually extended via an underground tunnel into the house itself. So fish could actually swim in and out of two ponds: one inside and one outside. But according to Marge, the fish still couldn’t avoid being snatched up by local raccoons, so they removed the pond.

Another, more practical element I love, though is still there: Throughout the house, folding out of the wall like a series of trap doors are numerous air vents that let you bring in natural ventilation without even opening the windows. This isn’t unique to Belluschi; I’ve seen it in John Yeon’s houses as well. But it’s symbolic of the many lovely little design touches in these midcentury Northwest Modern homes.

Thanks again to Jeff and Marjorie Belluschi for allowing me to see what is undoubtedly one of the absolute gems of local Portland architecture. It’s unfortunate that a private home won’t ever be seen by many people, even if it ends up being on some future home tour. But as far as I’m concerned, we have our own local version of Philip Johnson’s Glass House or Mies Van Der Rohe’s Farnsworth House (two name two other classics) right here.

Dicussing Midcentury Modern Architecture and Its Preservation

Tomorrow (Friday, March 14) at AIA/Portland from 3-4pm, I will be part of a panel discussion at AIA/Portland's Center For Architecture about mid-century modern architecture.

The panel will be moderated by local architect Peter Meijer, an expert in historic preservation. My fellow panelists will iclude Paul Falsetto, who has been active in helping preserve local landmarks like John Yeon's Portland Oregon Visitors Center along Waterfront Park and the Ladd Carriage House on Broadway; realtor Bob Zaikosk of Portland Modern, whose specialty is historic midcentury homes; and Becca Cavell of Thomas Hacker Architects.

Becca will also give a separate preceding presentation from 2-3pm on residential midcentury modern architecture.

The panel discussion I'm on will focus on the historical value, characteristics and historic criteria of Mid-Century architecture. Peter Meijer has sent a few questions for us to consider, which also may be something others want to comment on:

1. What are the unique character defining features of mid-century architecture?

2. What is the relationship of mid-century architecture to its context? the environment?

3. How adaptable are mid-century buildings to change? What are the challenges?

4. Why is it important for mid-century architecture to be preserved?

The AIA Center For Architecture is located at 403 NW 11th avenue in the Pearl District, at Flanders Street. For those of you who are architects in need of continuing education credits, this also qualifies. How weird it must be to be in a profession where you're legally required to continue your studies. It's a good thing in many ways, naturally, but I wouldn't like somebody telling me what to do. Hopefully, though, this session will be painless and, dare I say, even quite interesting.

PDC Evaluation Committee Chooses LAB Holding For Centennial Mills

Late Tuesday afternoon has come word from the Portland Development Commission from its Centennial Mills Evaluation Committee that LAB Holding of Costa Mesa, California is the recommended development team - the winner in a three team race against developers Nitze-Stagen of Seattle and the Cordish Company of Baltimore to turn around this decaying local landmark.

You can read the press release here, but it doesn't say too much yet about the decision. Before reading any comments coming up in Wednesday's papers, I'd assume the less ambitious, and therefore less costly, nature of the LAB proposal weighed in the developers' favor given the downturning economy and so forth. One would assume the Nitze-Stagen proposal finished second. I know The Oregonian's editors and numerous commenters here felt strongly that the Nitze-Stagen proposal, including a design team led by Zimmer Gunsul Frasca, was a good one. I also remember hearing more than one person say they weren't blown away by LAB's proposal in person several days ago. I'm still not completely sure which of these two I favored. Nitze-Stagen and ZGF seemed to have the highest quality plan, but maybe it was a little too ambitious. I'm not necessarily displeased to think that the original Centennial Mills buildings will seemingly be more prominent now that the LAB proposal has been chosen.

What's next? PDC says: "Executive Director Warner will now present the recommendation to the PDC Board of Commissioners at the March 26 Commission Meeting. If the Board approves the recommendation, PDC and LAB Holding, LLC will begin negotiation toward a Disposition and Development Agreement." So speak to the Board or forever hold your peace (except in cyberspace).

Of course as we've learned with projects like Burnside Bridgehead, all this may be moot anyway. We may be several years from seeing something completed there. And if something does get built, the design may change along the way. In fact, that's certain. It's only a question of how much.

In the days ahead, we'll want to look back on this process and whether it was a successful one. How do people feel so far?

One other caveat: It's not a done deal that the PDC board will go along with the evaluation committee's decision. In the case of Burnside Bridgehead, for example, they rejected the decision and went with Opus Northwest over Beam Construction, the latter of which was, if I remember correctly, the committee's recommendation. However, I think it's more likely this time around that the board will agree with the committee, because the board is more apt, as they were with the Bridgehead, to be financially minded -- and the LAB proposal is much less ambitious in terms of what it would ask of public investment and what would be physically built there.

And aside from what was the most appropriate decision for PDC to make given economic and other realities, which plan was best from a pure design standpoint?

PNCA Lands 511 Broadway Building From Feds

The US Department of Education and the General Services Administration have approved the Pacific Northwest College of Art's application to acquire the heretofore federal building at 511 NW Broadway.

This is a big win for PNCA, which will stretch its campus from the Pearl District in to Old Town and, along the way, put a much bigger stamp on Portland's culture. PNCA is quickly becoming the RISD (Rhode Island School of Design) of the West Coast.

The 511 project is also noteworthy in that it could finally provide another opportunity for Brad Cloepfil and Allied Works to participate in a hometown project. Cloepfil has already worked on PNCA's master planning. I mean, why wouldn't they hire him for 511? Besides, 511 could be a similar opportunity to Cloepfil's Wieden + Kennedy building: a historic structure that has a modern, light-filled interior.

This also puts NW Broadway itself on a higher plane in terms of this ugly but important stretch of real estate's future. Some developers have been waiting for a silly one-way couplet on Burnside and Couch to jump-start their projects. (The boarded up Burger King, anyone?) It seems very possible that this street, with the 511 building and the recently opened DeSoto building (home to several galleries), is about to be transformed.

The feds' decision may also be a blow to the Portland Public Market, which also sought 511 as a home. I hope this doesn't bring the market closer to relocating into Union Station itself, which doesn't seem right to me. Where can we put the produce? I liked one commenter's suggestion to a previous blog post of mine: Put the public market in Memorial Coliseum and make it a retail hub (although not for big-box stores).

Meanwhile, fresh on the heels of their Idea Studios that brought James Turrell and Jacques Rancierre here, PNCA has followed a couple of singles with a home run.

Surface Parking Lot Magnate Eyes Historic Downtown Building For Demolition

Greg Goodman, whose City Center Parking company owns several undeveloped surface parking lots in the downtown area, has made a request to the Historic Landmarks Commission for permission to demolish a building he owns listed on the National Register of Historic Places.

Built in 1917, the Auto Rest building at Southwest 10th Avenue and Salmon Street is owned by another of Goodman's companies Pegg Properties. It's the little brick building with Bee Cleaners across from the Bike Gallery and the new Northwest Film Center headquarters.

According to the report I read by Nathalie Weinstein in the Daily Journal of Commerce, the Historic Landmarks Commission was to have considered the request yesterday, March 10. Does anyone know if there was a decision made?

Regardless of the decision, though, it's disappointing that Goodman would target a historic building for development -- according to the DJC, he wants to build an office, condos or a hotel -- when he already owns several surface parking lots downtown. Naturally, a surface parking lot would constitute a better candidate for development than a nearly century-old building. I'm sure Goodman's company has its reasons, such as location being more preferable at the 10th & Salmon site, or whatever. But if you follow architecture in Portland, it seems pretty clear that Goodman is not acting with the best interest of our built environment in mind.

I don't want to vilify the guy or speak of his last name being an oxymoron, but how is it supposed to seem when there are these eyesores all over town in the form of surface parking lots you own, and you want to build something only where there's a historic building in the way?

The 10th & Salmon building isn't any architectural masterpiece, but it's a nice little piece of Portland's urban fabric. Obviously this is an era when the skyline is growing rapidly with big condos and offices. That makes little structures like this one all the more important as foothills to the mountains.

It was an encouraging move a year or two ago when Goodman announced that his company would begin developing their downtown surface lots. Their partnership with Gerding Edlen Development and Zimmer Gunsul Frasca on the 12th & Washington tower is seemingly going to result in a very nice building. It would be a shame for that to be undermined by Goodman's effort to demolish Portland's architectural history when there are numerous undeveloped downtown properties already in his portfolio.

The Historic Landmarks Commission has been subject to mounting criticism over the last couple years as it takes on more development projects, many of which have been modern buildings that the commission took issue with. This time around, though, the design community may be looking toward the HLC to take action, not to withhold it. But does the Landmarks Commission have the teeth (or, perhaps more appropriately, the dentures) and the will to stop one of the city's most quietly powerful landowners?

And even if the Auto Rest building gets saved, or Goodman backs off, what does this say about his company's attitude toward historic buidings?

The Governor and The Sliver

Today on a walk downtown,  I happened upon two spruced up old buildings with goings on.

The Governor Hotel on SW Tenth Avenue, across from the Galleria building, is coming upon its 100th anniversary. To celebrate, the hotel is having an open house this Sunday, March 9, from 12:30 to 4:30PM. It's a chance to see inside places you'd normally have to pay for, in the form of overnight lodging.

Built in 1909, the Governor was originally called the Seward Hotel and was designed by William Knighton, who also was the first State Architect for the State of Oregon.

As explained in a history of the hotel on its website, "The Seward featured Knighton's signature details still seen in the ornate art deco 'gargoyles' that surround the original building's facade and the bell-shaped architectural details seen throughout the hotel's original woodwork, column panels and even fireplace mantles."

In its more downtrodden days before its renovation, filmmaker Gus Van Sant shot a scene or two from his superlative movie My Own Private Idaho with River Phoenix and Keanu Reeves (and Tom Peterson in a non-speaking role; no Gloria, though). Several scenes from the rapturously bad Madonna movie Body of Evidence were too (hope those hot candle wax stains came out).

Not to be outdone, the adjacent Princeton Building, which the hotel took over a few years ago, also played host as a location for The Temp, a more forgettable movie with Timothy Hutton, unofficial 'Actress of the 70s' Faye Dunaway, Twin Peaks' Lara Flynn Boyle, and a character actor I like, Oliver Platt.

As I've written before, though, I was disappointed a few years ago when the Governor Hotel moved its entrance to the Princeton Building side on 11th Avenue. It brought them more space, but shoulnd't you really enter the Governor through the Governor?

Still, overall I'm very glad the hotel exists as a work of architecture -- and one of the city's minor gems, to say the very least. I also have a fond memory of once, several years ago, having breakfast with the now deceased architect James Freed, designer of the Holocaust Museum in Washington, DC after he spoke at a lecture series I helped work on for the AIA in 2001.

A few blocks away at the Gerding Theater, formerly known as the Portland Armory, the renovated structure finally seems to be getting its 'Sliver Park', a water feature and plantings along the north side. Designed by Murase Associates, it's a nice little water runoff retention system that relies on a few simple stone blocks and a modest series of waterfalls created by how that side of the building grades slighty downward towards 10th. (Coincidentally, the Armory was another renovation project that moved its front entrance to the back.)

There are still a couple of orange cones there, and the plantings have barely grown at all yet. But my first impression is that it's a lovely little place, however not even close to being a "park". We're talking about a couple of benches, a bioswale and a few long slabs of stone with a tiny strip of moving water. It's a terrific sidewalk area - just not a park. Looks to me like some nice design work and some over-hyped marketing. And while I'm griping about this nicely done project, what took so long? After all, the building was finished quite a while ago. Still, if there's anything Murase projects do well, it's creating a serene, contemplative space. Perhaps that's a fitting indication not to quabble over details of timing and labeling that will eventually wash away over time like the very rainwater (sniff, sniff) passing through the sliver's stone and bioswale.

"Dreamers + Builders" In The Oregonian

Today in The Oregonian's A&E section is a story package I wrote called "Dreamers + Builders", highlighting the key players on Portland's architecture/design scene.

The piece has two principal components: an overall feature story about how the local scene has changed over the last decade, and a list (with portraits by Motoya Nakamura) of 11 people making it happen. It's actually a list of 10, but one entry on the list consists of two people: Bill Neburka and Carrie Schilling (at left) of Works Partnership Architecture.

The other 9 people on the list, in no particular order, are:

• Brad Cloepfil, Allied Works Architecture
• John Homes, Holst Architecture
• Eugene Sandoval, Zimmer Gunsul Frasca
• Tiffany Sweitzer, Hoyt Street Properties
• Sohrab Vossoughi, Ziba Design
• Jeff Kovel, Skylab Design Group
• Heinz Rudolf, BOORA Architects
• Robert Thompson, TVA Architects
• Thomas Hacker, Thomas Hacker Architects

The list was intentionally made up almost entirely of architects. If it had been a list of the most important building industry people, of course it would have been very different.

I decided to choose one developer for the list, and that was probably the hardest part. To me Mark Edlen of Gerding Edlen Development is arguably the most significant developer in town, and I want to make it very clear that I'm a fan of Mark, his firm and the work they do. Not having Mark on there is probably the most glaring omission. But in making these lists, one has to make a couple of contrarian or at least somewhat surprising choices. Originally I wanted to have a three-person developer entry with Tiffany Sweitzer, Mark Edlen and Randy Rapaport, but the list was getting too big. I chose Sweitzer instead of Edlen for a few reasons. One, it's been fascinating watching Hoyt Street, the Pearl's most prolific developer, evolve in their designs as they go north. Does Hoyt Street build better buildings today than Gerding Edlen? Not necessarily, and certainly not in the past. However, I like Hoyt's latest, The Metropolitan, better than about any big condo in the city.

There are also, of course, several other architects and firms I could have chosen as the city's most significant. The first two coming to mind are GBD Architects and SERA Architects. The Brewery Blocks, which GBD designed, are a wonderful success, particularly as neighborhood placemaking. SERA has also been a real leader in sustainable design and I think their design quality is only going up. If the list were based solely on design talent, I might also have chosen Rick Potestio. But he's in between firms and being under-utilized lately. Would some firm please reach out to this superb architect, like, yesterday?

In terms of the feature story that accompanies the portraits by Motoya Nakamura, I tried to compare Portland's architecture/design environment to how it was in the late 1990s. Back then it was the age of Bilbao, and lots of cities were investing in signature architecture - particularly museums, but also courthouses and other public buildings. I worked at the AIA at the time, and I remember during Architecture Week there was a panel discussion hosted by Jonathan Nicholas of The Oregonian about whether Portland suffered from a design malaise.

It's not that we have much of any individual great buildings today, but I sure don't hear any talk of malaise. In the article I tried to make the point that a combination of factors has made Portland much more of a design city: the rise of sustainability, the economic boom bringing condos and lots of other work, the influx of young creatives to the city, etc.

What do the rest of you think, by the way: Is Portland a better place for creating and building quality architecture than it was a decade ago? Who should have been on the list who wasn't, or who is on the list who shouldn't be?

Be "Still" For Cloepfil & Allied Works' New Denver Museum

As reported this week by Architectural Record magazine (and then yesterday the Port blog), local architect Brad Cloepfil and his firm, Allied Works, have unveiled their new design for the Clyfford Still museum in Denver.

Devoted to the seminal painter Clyfford Still, the museum will sit in the shadow of Daniel Libeskind's massive expansion for the Denver Art Museum. But only in scale will the Allied buidling acquiesce to Libeskind's angular titanium edifice; it's quite possible the Still, with its more subtle, restrained form, will better stand the test of time.

Jeff Jahn at Port makes an interesting observation about Cloepfil's work: that there is a "heavy" Brad, seen in projects like the Wieden + Kennedy headquarters, and a "light, dematerializing" Brad, evidenced in newer work like the Museum of Art and Design at New York's Columbus Circle or the 2281 Glisan building here in Portland. Jeff likes the "heavy" Brad better.

The Still museum seems to have a little of both weight and lightness. Some of the exterior materials give the buiding a solidness like W+K, but there will be tons of natural light in this building, as Record describes:

Cloepfil's building is a two-story, rectangular structure of textured concrete and glass set in a tree-lined plaza. Visitors will enter it by way of a cantilevered concrete canopy. A wooden staircase will take them to the second-floor galleries, where Still’s work will be displayed in 10,000 square feet of exhibition space. Natural light, via clerestory windows, will illuminate most of the galleries.

Cloepfil's museum is a two-story, rectangular structure of textured concrete and glass set in a tree-lined plaza. Visitors will enter it by way of a cantilevered concrete canopy. A wooden staircase will take them to the second-floor galleries, where Still’s work will be displayed in 10,000 square feet of exhibition space. Natural light, via clerestory windows, will illuminate most of the galleries.

In imagining this museum devoted to Clyfford Still, I wondered if there might be any type of small museum we could build in Portland. How about a Mark Rothko museum? Granted there's already the Rothko Chapel in Houston, but that's not a museum devoted to showing his artwork. And Rothko spent many of his formative years here in Portland. Granted, our city doesn't have a good track record of supporting bold public projects (unless they're transit), but wound't Rothko's name be able to attract a lot of outside investment?

Brad Cloepfil is also one of the 11 people featured in an Oregonian article I wrote that comes out tomorrow for the paper's A&E section, called "Dreamers + Builders" and highlighting the top names in local architecture and design. So watch out for that.

Architectural Sin at Central Lutheran Church?

In today's Oregonian, Tom Hallman reports on a horrible situation regarding one of the great Pietro Belluschi's most important works that I and the rest of the architectural community should have been on top of awhile ago.

Belluschi, as most readers know, is by far the most significant architect Portland has ever produced. His Equitable Building downtown was the world's first modern glass-and-aluminum clad office building. His Portland Art Museum design counted Frank Lloyd Wright among its biggest fans. He also co-designed New York's Julliard School at Lincoln Center and, with the legendary Walter Gropius, the landmark Pan-Am building.

Local churches are, along with single-family homes, some of Belluschi's most important local landmarks. And no other Portland church is more significant architecturally than Central Lutheran. Of particular note was its distinctive bell tower, a series crisscrossing wood stacked boxes that celebrates the natural materials of the Northwest and incorporates simple, elegant modernism into an ecclesiastical context with exceptional visual, sculptural poetry. Belluschi made a beautiful modern temple to God.

And in 2005, fearing the bell tower's deferred maintenance (dry rot had set in) might cause it to fall down, Central Lutheran's leaders actually defied historic preservation laws and demolished the tower.

Granted, it's mostly a financial issue. The church had spent over a million dollars renovating when they realized the tower needed fixing or replacing. They were told it would cost at least $150,000 to do so. And meanwhile, historic preservation laws were in place to prevent them from tearing down this important piece of architecture.

So you know what they did? They ignored the law that said, "Thou shall not desecrate a hugely important work of architecture by Portland's greatest architect of all time," and just did it anyway.

I would be less angry and more sympathetic towards Central Lutheran if not for this: In Hallman's article today, the church leaders actually complained that their structure is bound by historic preservation laws. "What were they going to do," one church member said to Hallman, "fine a church?"

Well, what other alternative does the city have? Should we let religious institutions get away with spitting in the face of local architecture and then telling us we're wrong for caring about preserving the city's most important landmarks?

I'm so frustrated that a church, a place that is supossed to be a community gathering place that represents the best in all of us -- our greatest good will and humility and the enduring bonds between us -- would be so unbelievably self centered. Don't they realize that their church will still be there, and will still be important to Portland, long after every single member of that congregation is gone? That's a responsibility they're not only denying, but complaining that we should hold them to.

This is the second time in a year that a local church has shown an absolutely appalling lack of concern for the architecture entrusted to their care. Last year First Christian Church bulldozed the historic Rosefriend Apartments downtown so they could build a ginormous half-block condo with acres of underground parking. Their leadership was actually quoted as saying they were in the business of saving souls, not buildings. Well, even though I believe in God, I would never, ever set foot in any church that displays that kind of attitude about the historic buildings in its community, especially the very architecture they've been entrusted with watching over. Talk about robbing Peter to pay Paul!

Ultimately, of course, we shouldn't scold Central Lutheran Church but help them instead. Two years ago, back when this architectural catastrophe first happened, we in the architecture and design community should have gotten actively involved with the church trying to raise money to restore the Belluschi-designed tower.

Considering the millions of dollars being invested in condos and offices all over Portland, or $100 million being donated for a basketball arena (although it is for my beloved Ducks), we as a community should be able to help Central Lutheran come up with $150,000 to fix the tower.

Because it's our tower as much as Central Lutheran's.

And with respect to the media, it's very unfortunate that I and so many others are only reading about this when there's the controversy of the church potentially being fined by the city. Why can't we in the media be out in front of these stories, warning about a fire about to start instead of just reporting on the flames?

Whether it's the American Institute of Architects (a sponsor of this site), the Architectural Foundation of Oregon, or a grassroots effort, we need to get to work on fixing Belluschi's tower at the church Central Lutheran inhabits. And while I am certainly a sinner myself, like virtually anyone, the leadership of Central Lutheran needs to get down on their knees, asking God and Pietro Belluschi up in architects' heaven for forgiveness.

Street of Eames Returns

Saturday, April 5th will bring what is now an annual rite of spring for local fans of residential architecture: the Street of Eames modern home tour.

Tickets went on sale several days ago and, although I haven't heard any sales figures yet, it's a safe bet that the tour is sold out. Each of the past previous years there has been more demand than can be accommodated. It's probably not easy to convince some of these homeowners to allow hundreds of people to tramp through their homes, even if they do have those little shoe-cover booties on. Regardless, even though people interested in contemporary and/or midcentury architecture probably still only occupy a fraction of the overall market, it has always been encouraging to see just how popular the Street of Eames tour has been from the beginning.

This year's six homes are equally divided between recent projects of the last two years and older homes built in the 1950s and '60s. The oldest (at left) is by Gerald Nusbaum, from 1956. In keeping with local traditions, the house is teeming with natural wood. I also like the sliding screen doors between kitchen and dining room. You know today there woulnd't be a wall there at all, so perhaps it's a little surprising this feature has survived renovations.

Another house on the tour is by Saul Zaik, who was responsible for more than one excellent home in Portland. As Bart King described in his historical timeline of local residential architecture for last month's debut issue of Portland Spaces, Zaik was, along with William Fletcher and others, part of a group of local second-generation modernists here known as the "14th street gang". After reading that, I like to think of these architects dressed up like The Fonz, or perhaps Lenny and Squiggie. I also got to know Saul Zaik a little bit several years ago when I worked at the AIA, and he was always very nice - at least to me.

Another older home of interest on the tour is one of the numerous designed and built by Robert Rummer, a local who was inspired by the thousands of Joseph Eichler-developed homes in California. Many of the Eichler homes used plans designed by Frank Lloyd Wright disciple Robert Anshen of Anshen & Allen and, later, A. Quincy Jones. Most were single-story, wood with pitched roofs and lots of floor to ceiling glass, embodying the postwar California residential vernacular. The Rummer homes here in Oregon have a similar feel, yet are also more tied to the Northwest traditions of people like Zaik, Pietro Belluschi, John Yeon and others.

  The three contemporary houses on the tour all date very recently. Brian and Melody Emerick's house (at left) was completed in 2007, while Chris Ingalls' (at right) and Emily & Karl Refi's (below) are from 2006. Of these, I know the Refi house the best because I wrote about it for a recent issue of Portland Monthly.

The Refi house is an excellent example of modernity fitting well into a context of older traditional homes. It has a pitched roof in front, but is flat in back to allow a green roof. Karl and Emily also acted as their own contractors and did much of the construction work themselves, including pouring their own countertops. And on the dark, rainy day I visited their house, not a single electric lamp or fixture was on, but the house was teeming with light.

Street of Eames is also for a good cause: It benefits homeless students in Portland Public Schools. With that and the annual ticket shortage in mind, I wonder if there might be some opportunities in the future to come out with some sort of book, video, calendar or other means of raising more revenue for these kids while providing more of a non-intrusive peek into one of local architecture's greatest but largely hidden assets: its houses.