Portland Architecture

Reverends to residents: visiting three church-to-house conversions

A church-house conversion at SE Harrison and Larch (photo courtesy Old PDX Homes)

BY MATTHEW HENDERSON

Recently one of our town's finest church-home conversions was placed on the market. But perhaps as a testament to our continued love affair with repurposed churches, as well as to the sublimity of this particular home conversion, the special church-turned house on Southeast Harrison Street in Ladd's Addition was sold in the time that it's taken me to write about it. 

Those familiar with historic Ladd's Addition in Southeast Portland may already know the house by its distinctive appearance. The 1920s-built, former Italian Presbyterian Church has a triangle-topped octagonal steeple with round porthole windows and a bold color-scheme of red, black, white and grey. It remained an ecclesiastical building until the early 2000s, when it was the First Baptist Church of the Deaf. But after fire claimed portions of the interior, the congregation moved on and it was converted to a home.

On my recent visit there, an evening sun peered through the autumn foliage framing its stately facade, while yellow leaves fell on its lush, manicured lawn. Despite having obvious curb appeal, the real treat is inside, where a vaulted, stone-floored foyer gives way to a spectacularly re-conceived nave space, encompassing a one and a half-story living room, Euro-style kitchen, and office, overlooked by a piano parlor-lounge carved from the church's former choir loft.

Inside the Harrison Street house (photos courtesy Old PDX Homes)

Getting the piano up there was apparently a feat of piano-mover heroism as the climb traversed multiple flights of stairs and required a temporary ramp installation nearly spanning the length of the house. (The piano is staying with the house.) 

In addition to the piano loft, owners Clay France and Graham McReynolds also added a cross-facing master bedroom suite since moving there just over a decade ago. The original renovations were undertaken by a local construction contractor who converted the church to a residence in the early 2000s with the intention of selling it.

Other architectural features boasted in the listing included, "cathedral ceilings, skylights, Japanese soaking tub/steam room/shower, and taxes frozen until 2016."

Though the Harrison Street church-house conversion is exceptional, two other stylish conversions come to mind, each in their own way embody a touch of Dwell magazine flair while enjoying relative anonymity for being shuffled in amongst other more ordinary homes.

One is a small church-house on Northeast Sixth and Fremont inhabited by Beverly James Neal and her partner Amy, whose home whom I first discovered while looking for accommodations for a visiting friend via AirBnB. "Once a church, now a loft-style home with every comfort you'd look for in a home away from home..." the profile states.

I can attest that their place is every bit as nice as the photos make it seem, making it a fantastic option for anyone looking to station themselves in a highly transit-friendly part of Northeast Portland.

In nearby North Portland reside Tamara Goldsmith and her Church of Tam. Tamara bought the church, previously known as the Miracle Revival Center, in 2009 and moved in before Christmas of 2010; she has lived in the main part of the church ever since.

Church of Tam (images courtesy Tamara Goldsmith)

With the help of her then business partner, Eli Haworth, she turned the back half into an apartment, which she continues to rent out. After gutting the church and replacing plumbing, flooring, walls, insulation, and electrical, the pair added new bathrooms and kitchens to both units. Tamara added balcony windows and installed a 10-foot roll-up overhead door "for maximum access and connection to the outdoors," she explained. She also removed the driveway in favor of a landscaped side yard. 

Of the decor, Tamara says: "I really enjoyed selecting custom things that I've always wanted in a home like a big farmhouse sink and interesting plumbing fixtures, and a large wood kitchen island on the edge of a large open central space, which accommodates a variety of uses including a great entertainment space, office and terrarium. I made the overhead pendant lights out of old glass milk jugs and am working on a recycled steel handrail to the upstairs and stained-glass windows utilizing recycled dichroic glass."

She's also planning a large-scale bookshelf utilizing recycled steel pipes and old-growth wood planks and looks forward to continuing to incorporate recycled materials wherever possible.

 

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Sensible sculpture: two new houses by Ben Waechter

Tower House (image courtesy Ben Waechter)

BY BRIAN LIBBY

Since he first gained notoriety in 2009 with the Z-Haus, a Northeast Portland rowhouse in which the central stairway became an ingenious organizing point for several half-level rooms, architect Ben Waechter has shown uncommon vision and creativity designing houses. The architect, who began his career working under legendary Italian architect Renzo Piano and later for celebrated local architect Brad Cloepfil, has a way of creating houses that are rooted in strong visual ideas and exquisitely rendered detail.

So I trusted Waechter when he took an even more unique approach: a house based on a medieval tower.

When designing homes to will sell quickly on the open real estate market, as Waechter did with the Z-Haus and his new Tower House (his wife is a realtor), few architects would look to this kind of historic architecture as inspiration. After all, we associate such medieval towers with military fortification: tall, mostly cylindrical and largely windowless stone edifices from which troops could protectively shoot their arrows against invaders. What could this possibly have to do with a little plot off Cornell Road?

But for Waechter, the challenge of a small, steeply sloping parcel with only a small shelf of flat land from which to build made this historical form a valid inspiration. So the three-story Tower House rises from down its back slope, connecting to the street via a pedestrian bridge on its third floor. One enters the house through the kitchen and dining room at this middle level; a living room is on the fourth floor and bedrooms are stashed below, on bottom two floors.

Tower House studies (courtesy Ben Waechter)

 

But it isn’t just that Waechter designed a four-story house shaped cylindrically like a tower. It also feels fortified as if the house, like its medieval antecedent, were made of thick walls. The architect placed the home’s stairway (as well as bathrooms and closets) along the perimeter, circumscribing each floor's one main living space, making the façade almost like a thick sleeve. Contrasting these white and grey interstitial spaces, the main interior rooms are clad with white oak floors and cabinetry, giving off an added sense of warmth.

Yet through the tower’s thick façade there are generous framed openings and connections to the outside, flooding the interior with light. On each level, for example, Waechter created small outdoor spaces. Yet instead of hanging the space off the exterior facade, they are carved out from the interior, utilizing the same interstitial space as the stairway – thereby maintaining the simple visual integrity of the tower form.

To complete the sense of the exterior as one continuous sleeve, the architect used black vertical corrugated steel with rounded corners that eliminated the need for corner trim. Corrugated metal often can look cheap as an exterior cladding, but Waechter believes this often comes not from the metal surface itself but its often-clunky trim. On the tower house, this corrugation feels like a much more elegant material, perhaps even like fabric.

Top: Chindia Tower, Romania (image courtesy Wikimedia Commons)
Middle and bottom: Tower House (images courtesy Ben Waechter)

 

But Waechter doesn’t need a bold spec house to exercise these design principles. A recent visit to another of his recently completed houses revealed many of these same approaches, only applied to a more modest existing-home transformation for a private client.

The Oakley House’s client sought a larger house than the small cottage on its site, but with little room to expand on its compact lot, Waechter’s new house stuck to the original 28-by-28-foot foundation. Added space was created by cantilevering the top floor in both front and back.

Similarly to the Tower House’s loggias, the front and back porches here feel not like an add-on but instead carved out from the larger form. Waechter again used corrugated metal that’s wrapped around the corners, creating a gentle curve that humanizes what could have otherwise been a monolithic feel.

Oakley House front and back (images courtesy Ben Waechter)

 

Perhaps most boldly of all, the top floor in front is completely windowless. But inside, be it upstairs (via many side windows) or downstairs (with floor-to-ceiling glass in front and back), spaces are teeming with natural light. Like the Tower House, here the main living-dining area is festooned all around with wood, with matching wall paneling, flooring and windows. Waechter even raised the entrance to the side stairway by a step, so as to further complete this aesthetic sense of being enveloped by wood with only a few designated openings.

Whether it’s a bolder spec home like the Tower House or as applied to a modest scale like the Oakley House, there is never, at least for me, any doubt about a Ben Waechter design when I see it. His architecture never stands out for its own sake, yet the degree to which his designs remain rooted in a strong, clear idea is always special, as is the distinction he creates through materiality between primary and secondary architectural spaces.

Oakley House diagrams (courtesy Ben Waechter)

 

Waechter’s work can feel like a reinvention of traditional architectural forms even as he works from within those confines. This is architecture that’s pristine as sculpture, yet the architect never wavers from designing residences from the inside out - function rooted in form.

I can’t help but wonder what this exceptionally talented architect would do with a larger commission, especially a public building like a museum, courthouse or library. Yet staying true to houses and small retail projects may also suit Waechter equally well: like a jeweler in a world of rock pickers.

 

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Where art, design and dialogue meet: a conversation with Tad Savinar

Tad Savinar's "Crossing" (image courtesy PDX Contemporary Art)

BY BRIAN LIBBY

Thirty-three years ago, Portland visual artist Tad Savinar met performance artist Eric Bogosian and became inspired to collaborate. Nevermind that Savinar wasn't a playwright; the pair co-wrote Talk Radio, which would become both an acclaimed play and an Oliver Stone film of the same name.

But that was only the beginning of Savinar's journey across disciplines: today he juggles art making with urban planning in a way that few others have attempted. This month, for example, has brought his latest exhibit at PDX Contemporary Art, "I Wonder," even as Savinar continues as a member of the city's powerful Design Commission. Some of the exhibited artworks imagine public buildings such as a stadium and a home for disadvantaged children. Other sculptural pieces, mounted on cheekily classical wall pedestals, play with intersecting basic representational forms, such as a bridge and a bucket in "Crossing," or a spoon and a tree in "Sustainability."

"I am interested in creating a dialogue between my work and the viewer," Savinar writes in his artist's statement. "Not a one-way diatribe, but a genuine back and forth conversation. In order to achieve this I use the tool of visual beauty to bring the viewer closer, language to engage them, content that is relevant to their lives, and irony to soften the blow."

Recently Savinar sat down to discuss how artists can serve a role in city-building that goes beyond making things, as well as how architecture and art are meant to foster dialogue.

PORTLAND ARCHITECTURE: Your artist statement for the new gallery show talks about the desire to prompt dialogue. Is that what connects your artistic, theatrical and design-oriented backgrounds? How did you arrive at this mix of disciplines and interests?

TAD SAVINAR: If I look forward, sometimes I can’t tell you what I’m doing next. But if I look back, it all makes perfect sense. One thing leads to another to another. So those things I’ve ended up doing, there’s not necessarily a plan. But I’ve been very open to what the opportunities I can pursue rather than defining what it is I do.

In the 1970s and early ‘80s I was focused on the visual arts. Then in 1980 I met Eric [Bogosian] and we started working together and that kind of catapulted me into the theater, to the point where I quit making visual art for three years. When I came back, it was with a different set of ideas that coincided with my introduction to architecture and planning. There are times when I focus on one thing more than another. The art’s always been constant. I haven’t written for the theater in years. I had one piece I worked on for far too long, and I killed it. For the past twenty years or so, the focus has really been on urban design projects. But you’re right: it’s trying to have a dialogue, trying to acknowledge that the viewer or user is considered, that it’s not a faceless, “This is all about me” kind of thing. It’s trying to engage them.

Oliver Stone's "Talk Radio" (image courtesy Oregon Movies A to Z)

Was there any particular impetus for crossing over into design and planning?

Yes, I remember the minute it happened. I was hired along with four other artists by Trimet to work on west side light rail in 1991. The lead architect for that project was Greg Baldwin [of ZGF]. We were having our first meeting and he started talking about the nature of planning. I’d never heard anyone talk about it like that, and I thought: that’s what I want to do. Greg was certainly responsible for helping me along.

In general artists who are engaged in public art or architecture collaborations still are focused on what they can make for that place, or what they can affect. I’m not driven that way. I’m driven by, ‘How do I use my brain to make this a better place?’ That’s regardless of whether I have my hand print on a surface or an object or whether it’s merely, ‘Why don’t we move the tree 20 feet?’

What are the challenges or opportunities for artists getting involved like this with design and planning issues beyond their own artwork?

Artists are amazing problem solvers. They wake up and think, ‘Okay, I’ve got an idea to make this piece.’ Now they’ve got to decide: is it a painting, sculpture, or a bumper sticker? Maybe they narrow it down to a painting. But is it 40 feet or is it two feet? Is it acrylic, or is it oil? Is it abstract or representational? They have to go through all of that, make the piece and challenge their technical abilities. Are they good enough to make the thing they saw in their head from a technical standpoint? Then after they’ve fought all those battles of self-doubt and getting it done, when the thing is done they have to look at it and ask themselves, ‘Is it any good?’ Because they’re bringing something onto the planet that didn’t exist before. In that process there is a huge amount of problem solving, self-judgment, questioning and consideration. I think that is inherent in artists, and writers, and anyone who’s creating something from scratch. I’ve just taken that problem-solving obsession and transferred it to the architectural world: ‘Is there a better way? Should it be bigger? Should it be smaller?’ All those things an architect goes through. But sometimes an architect is constricted by fashion, or by functional issues, or client issues or costs. I like to use the artist’s problem-solving brain, but I use it more for the problem more than for the thing, if that makes sense.

That’s the thing that remains constant both in my planning work and my visual work: they both deal with trying to bring organization to complex systems: a kind of obsession, an understanding that it can’t be done, but oh heck, let’s give it a try. 

"Sustainability (study)" (image courtesy PDX Contempoary Art)

Part of what we’re talking about here seems to be the notion of an individual creating something versus a group. Art and design disciplines often seem to require the vision of a singular creative author balanced against the expertise of a larger group of collaborators.

That’s very valid and it comes up all the time. In both visual art and architecture it was theater that expanded my understanding of how to work, because in the theater if you write a play there’s still a director, an actor, a stage manager, everybody. One has to be very clear and fight for a vision, but there’s also a point where other people who have a certain skillset that you don’t are empowered to take your vision forward. It’s the nature of it. Previous to that I’d made every object with my own hands. In some ways that was a lovely meditative act. Yet I was confined to my skills. What I learned in the theater is you can write a play, you can get an actor to play the lead, and you can get a director. I though, why can’t I do that with my art? If I have an idea for an etched glass piece or a painting I can’t paint, why should I limit it to what I personally can do? The theater experience really opened up my artwork, and of course that notion of collaboration, going from the isolated creative individual in the studio to one who has to communicate with others about your ideas.

How does this show continue the ideas you've explored over a career, or how does it represent a departure?

What’s interesting is I’ve been working for 41 years in January as an artist in town. My work has always included text. It was just so odd for me to realize this show doesn’t have any words in it. It wasn’t a conscious decision. So I’m kind of saying, ‘What’s going on here?’ Because I’ve never been driven stylistically to make ten pieces of this or that. I’m really wondering what this grouping of works is. Maybe it’s really a foot in the past and a foot in the future.

I was particularly captivated by your building models and illustrations, each pairing architecture with a representational form fused to the façade.

I went to Italy this summer, and I kept saying, ‘I want to see where the old meets the new.’ That got me to thinking about this. Certainly my goal always is to make environments, buildings, public spaces and transit systems more human. So I was wondering about the nature of architecture. Those things are like doodles. They aren’t really designs for buildings. It’s kind of, ‘I wonder if you did this: what if?’ 

The buildings portrayed seem to resemble the Portland Building and how it’s paired with the Portlandia statue. 

They’re very Portlandia-esque. The difference in my mind is the Portlandia statue is separate from the building. I’m trying to merge these forms. Although there’s a history of heroic statuary and fascist architecture or important academic architecture, I wanted to see if there was a way to engage architecture and the figure with the spirit that translates to the humans’ experience. It’s not as symbolic but actually somehow connected.

I would have thought symbolism was a big part of it. 

It’s about the notion of being protected by those figures, or those figures acknowledging, ‘This is what’s going on here: keep up the good work,’ or, ‘Let me protect you.’ Some kind of relationship with the person on the street. It’s not about architecture. Those buildings are just stand-ins. It’s more, is there a way to actually make the building talk in some way?

Despite the visual similarity to the Portland building, I felt like these works were explorations of how to merge statuary and architecture more sincerely than postmodernism seemed to allow. Perhaps it says something about postmodern architecture: that even though the re-imagining of historical and classical forms was compelling, sometimes the irony got in the way.

Absolutely. The Graves building is supposed to be completely humanist, but you walk in and the moldings are twice as big as your head. I feel like Graves is a fantastic creative thinker. His drawings are beautiful. But nothing he ever makes is human. It always ends up awkward and about itself. Even the teakettles [for Target] are that way. There’s almost a passive-aggressiveness to it. I certainly don’t feel that postmodernism did what it was supposed to do.

"Arena for Proud and Respectful Fans" (image courtesy PDX Contemporary Art)

In ‘Arena for Proud and Respectful Fans,’ for example, I’m using the classical image of the lion, but there’s a little hook. Can we have a little rest on the air-horns? In other words, can you instill in the fans before they enter the building that they’re important? Can you instill in the office workers for a nonprofit that they are doing work that is being watched over by a presence larger than themselves? That’s what I’m trying to get at, to actually change the human experience as one transitions into the building, so it affects the contents of what’s going on in there: that those kids feel watched over and safe. It’s very sappy.

As a member of the Design Commission, I know you’re prevented from talking about current projects, but is there anything in town that you’re particularly a fan of?

I cite the 937 building [by Holst Architecture] all the time, for 50 reasons, whether it’s the landscaping, the brick, the red balconies. It just kind of upped the ante for that model in Portland.

That and The Metropolitan condos are my favorite Pearl District buildings

They’re both very different than the traditional product. A lot of times on Design Review, when a project comes in and someone says, ‘We explored X, Y and Z but it was too expensive,’ I think inside, ‘What does that mean? Does it mean it’s too expensive so you have to scrap the whole project? Or does it mean too expensive in that you won’t be into profit until another year down the road? Or too expensive that no one will rent the place?’ I say, ‘Look at 937.’

937 condos (photo by Brian Libby)

There are many good design firms in the city, but Holst’s design in Northwest for the Conway property apartments is also phenomenal. These guys are doing four to five-story buildings, they’re using real materials, and it works. So why are you bringing me corrugated metal?’ It’s a fine line to walk, but how do we maintain quality materials that also maintain or increase the quality of our built environment without scrapping the developer or the residents? In some ways, if there’s a neighborhood and a developer comes in to place a new building there, are they as goo das what’s there, or are they taking it down? If they take it down, the next person will take it down a little further.

What do you make of the unprecedented national attention Portland has received in recent years? 

Definitely the city has really had a burst of wonderful growth. To get to observe it is really pretty fantastic. I always say don’t get too proud of yourselves. It was two guys who when they platted this city realized the 200-foot block is the way to go. We’re all benefitting from that. They were the smart ones. But I also feel like there was an intersection of that 200-foot walkability, the Internet, coffee, biking, where it just happened. It didn’t happen in Los Angeles. They’re still struggling. It didn’t happen in Phoenix or Houston. But this is the city’s time. Who knows? Maybe we’ll be on rocket sleds in 20 years and it’ll be some other city in the spotlight. But right now it feels like we’re in a petri dish. All those things: the attention to slow food, to community, to recycling: we were ripe for it because we had the foundational element of that grid.

There’s also just a spirit here. You can see the mayor. You can still do that. You can stand up and talk in city council hearings. That sounds a little Pollyanna-ish, but it’s there: the sense of being able to be heard is kind of present in all of this. I can open up a restaurant. I can see the mayor. I can teach a class at my kids’ school. I can plant a tree.

 

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Design calendar: November 16-30

Pietro Belluschi's University of Portland chapel (photo by Brian Libby)

BY BRIAN LIBBY

Understated Elegance: Pietro Belluschi’s Portland Area Sacred Spaces
In the book Spiritual Space, architectural historian Meredith Clausen describes the churches designed by Pietro Belluschi as having an “understated elegance” that has “made a lasting contribution to modern church architecture.” Of course there is probably no better way to see the beauty of Belluschi’s church architecture than to experience it in person. After starting at Central Lutheran Church (1948-50) in northeast Portland’s Irvington neighborhood, this bus tour will then explore three other significant Belluschi-designed churches: Zion Lutheran (1948-50), St. Thomas More (1939-40), and the Chapel of Christ the Teacher at the University of Portland (1985). During the trip, AHC Education Committee member and tour leader Eric Wheeler will provide narration, sharing insight into Belluschi’s church designs and placing them into the context of his larger body of work. 1pm Sunday, November 17. $40 ($25 for AHC members).

Bright Lights: Angela Mattox
From Beirut, Lebanon, to Guanajuato, Mexico, there is scarcely an arts festival in the world Angela Mattox has not explored. Her wide-ranging eye and aggressively adventurous taste has pushed PICA’s annual Time-Based Art Festival toward an increasingly international line-up of artists and a heightened global profile. After two years in the job and with two TBA Festivals behind her, Angela Mattox will discuss her views of the city, its taste in art, and her own evolving aesthetic. She will present some highlights from 2013 TBA Festival along with work artists she believes are defining the current international dialog. Jimmy Mak's, 221 NW 10th Avenue. 6pm Monday, November 18. Free.

2030 Momentum: Targets and Barriers
Everyone feels the frustrations when you are trying to get the most information out of your model. Physical modeling gives you qualitative information about your space, but lacks hard quantitative data. Computer modeling gives you the latter; however, can lack the dimensional qualities of the physical model without running it through additional plug-ins. Lisa Petterson of SERA Architects and Kent Duffy, AIA of SRG Partnerships will provide an in-depth look at day-lighting and analysis through: lessons learned from computer modeling and physical modeling; the newest technologies for the best outputs; and a discussion about the disconnect from the end user. They will be exploring these issues through case-studies: Edith Green Wendell Wyatt building, the East Portland Community Center, and the Chemeketa CC Health Sciences building. AIA/Portland Center For Architecture, 403 NW 11th Avenue. 9am Friday, November 22. $6.77 (

Vocabulary of Architecture
Do you find yourself describing the elements of buildings in terms of thing-a-ma-jigs and what-cha-ma-call-its? Join us as Eric Wheeler, member of our AHC Education Committee, helps demystify the language of architecture as it relates to some of the common architectural styles found in the Portland area. This updated program is ideal for anyone interested in architecture. After this session you’ll be able to impress your friends, family, co-workers, and contractors with your newfound knowledge of architectural terms such as gambrel, oculus, lintel, corbel, and quoin. From pilaster to pediment, there’s sure to be a little something for the architectural nerd in all of us! Architectural Heritage Center, 701 SE Grand Avenue. 10am Saturday, November 23. $18 ($10 for AHC members).

 

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Cook Street Apartments continue Williams/Vancouver transformation

Cook Street Apartments (rendering courtesy LRS Architects)

BY FRED LEESON

After decades of stagnation, it is pleasing on several fronts to find that the North Williams/Vancouver Avenue corridor now rates as a Portland “hot spot” for developers. The temperature has been rising slowly for close to a decade, and is now reaching a steady boil in the vicinity of Fremont and Williams Avenue.

The recently-opened New Seasons grocery store will now be flanked immediately to the south by a six-story, mixed use building called the Cook Street Apartments with ground-floor retail and 206 apartments above. The U-shaped building, designed by LRS Architects and located at 115 North Ivy Street, was approved on October 24 by the Portland Design Commission after nearly three months of public review.

At the same meeting, the commission also took a first look at early plans for a nearby complex called the Backbridge Lofts, on a vacant parcel at the corner of Williams and Fremont. Designed by PATH Architecture, the Backbridge complex would add another 175 apartments. A zone change for the Backbridge has been appealed to the Land Use Board of Appeals, so its progress might be slowed.

The zoning appeal is one sign that these changes are not necessarily well-received in the neighborhood.  Several residents wrote in or testified objecting to the Cook Street project, contending that it was too big, too dense and a poor fit for what is mostly a neighborhood of small, single-family homes.  To the eyes of many residents, these taller buildings look like they belong downtown or in the Pearl, not in the Eliot neighborhood.  The new building will sit on a portion of the old Continental Baking site and its adjacent Wonder Bread day-old store.

Opposition to change may be bolstered by the fact that new development in the Williams/Vancouver corridor was close to non-existent for nearly 40 years, stemming from racial tensions, poverty, crime and drug-related difficulties. While there are genuine issues involving gentrification, demographic changes and social equity in the corridor, these debates do not alter nor stem the development changes afoot. The pressures surely stem in part from a generational change, in which younger residents for  reasons  economic and otherwise are favoring apartment living over the burdens and potential benefits of home ownership. That and the fact that the Williams-Vancouver corridor is zoned differently that comparable Portland streets, allowing taller buildings thanks to a partial industrial designation.

The Cook Street Apartments may well represent a beacon for these changes, given its use of shimmering green metal panels that are intended to offer the eye slightly different coloring depending on time of day, sunlight and sky color. “It’s a chameleon type of panel,” said Greg Mitchell, an associate at LRS Architects. “In the sunlight they really come alive.” The shimmering panels, to be applied to floors two through six, will be balanced by mocha-colored fiber cement panels in recessed portions of the façade and as fields for the windows.

The interior courtyard of the U-shaped structure will allow ramps to 142 parking spaces below grade and parking for 48 ground-level vehicles. Provision has been made to park 230 bicycles.  Most of the courtyard will be covered by a green mesh rain screen.  Small public plazas will be located at building entrances on the corners of Cook Street and Williams and Vancouver.      

The architects made several tweaks to the design as a result of public hearings, but were unable to comply with one suggestion. The commission inquired as to whether two electrical transformers could be placed underground instead of on concrete pads at the surface. Transformers are placed underground downtown and in the Lloyd Center vicinity. Answers from Pacific Power & Light indicated that the underground vaults would be far more expensive to install and would delay construction for at least a year.

But given the pace of development in the corridor, the question remains at what point putting electrical infrastructure underground makes sense. “The most expensive solution is the most desired,” acknowledged Sheila Holden, a PP&L representative. She said that decision cannot be made by the power company alone, but jointly with developers and city officials.  “We would host a meeting if there can be a meeting,” she said, but all parties would need to be at the table.

 Transformers will remain on surface pads at the new building. “In reality, it’s part of the furniture delivering service to buildings,” Holden said. “It’s a square box. It can be camouflaged or ‘greened up’ to be more attractive to the eye.” 

Some developers are willing to pay the utility company to move power lines to the other side of a steet to get them out of the way of a new building.  “We don’t always know until the last minute who’s going to do what and where,” Holden said.  “Nobody wants lines in front of their houses, but nobody wants to put them underground.”  It is a dance that is likely to continue in the foreseeable future in the Williams/Vancouver corridor.

 

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Randy Gragg on leading UO's John Yeon Center

Randy Gragg (image courtesy University of Oregon)

BY BRIAN LIBBY

For more than 20 years, Randy Gragg has been one of Portland's foremost voices for design and the visual arts. As a longtime art and then architecture critic for The Oregonian, he helped shape the debate about countless projects, people and processes. The former Loeb Fellow at Harvard's Graduate School of Design has also founded publications like Reflex and Portland Spaces, while most recently acting as editor in chief of Portland Monthly - giving the magazine intellectual weight without losing its breezy sense of fun. Besides his journalistic talents, Gragg has also distinguished himself as a curator and preservationist.

It's the latter role that is now defining a bigger part of Gragg's career. Earlier this week the University of Oregon announced that Gragg would assume leadership of the John Yeon Center, connecting the legendary Portland modernist's built legacy with one of its leading advocates.

Recently I conversed with Gragg over a series of emails to talk about the Yeon Center and his other continuing pursuits.

Portland Architecture: You've long been active in supporting John Yeon's legacy. How did assuming leadership of the Yeon Center appeal as an opportunity and challenge to you, and how did you see it fitting into the broader context of your career with Portland Monthly, the O before that, etc.?

Randy Gragg: I suspect a lot people probably don’t know what the John Yeon Center is, so let’s start there: it’s comprised of the 1937 Watzek House, a modernist masterpiece, and the only National Historic Landmark house in Portland; the Cottrell House, a more modest but very strong design; and The Shire, a 70-acre landscape in the Columbia River Gorge sculpted as a series of walks and vistas overlooking Multnomah Falls.

I’ll be overseeing the management and programming of these properties. But, really, my task is to build a broad constituency for them. John and his partner Richard Brown gave them to UO over a decade ago. They’ve been used primarily as study tools with occasional public events, a worthy beginning. My charge is to shape the next phase, making them into a kind of “front door but also for the wider community of cultural leaders, researchers, policy makers, and electeds. Or maybe a better way to put it is to turn the Watzek House into the “living room” and The Shire into the “garden”  for those who, like John Yeon, aspire to shape the future and beauty of the region.

Multnomah Falls from The Shire (photo by Brian Libby)

Now to actually answer your question! I’ve really had two paths in my career. Most of my time has been spent as a journalist. (Though I quit in 2007, people still seem to identify me for the arts and architecture criticism I wrote at the Big O). But I’ve always had side projects: curating exhibitions like Core Sample back in 2003; developing architect-in-residence projects for Bullseye Glass; co-developing a huge 2009 dance/music project and, ultimately, a conservation effort for the quartet of Portland fountain plazas designed by Lawrence Halprin and Associates.

In a way, promoting John Yeon’s legacy has been an ongoing side project, too, for nearly 20 years. His work and his thinking has been so inspirational to me. So I’m thrilled that UO is giving me the opportunity to really focus on developing the Yeon Center and the properties into inspirational experiences for the wider community.

You recently had completed a new home, designed by Rick Potestio. What was it like getting to participate in the design and construction process after having been a critic for many years? What are some of your favorite things about Rick's design and how the place turned out?

Well, I now know what developers do! And I have a lot more respect for just how hard it is to build anything—much less something that’s outside the usual. We made a triplex in the form of a pretty simple box, roughly 40-by-40-by-40 feet: two floors cinder block, one floor wood frame. Rick—once described by a mutual friend as a “professional Italian”—basically made it a palazzo. I get to live on the “piano nobile.” The process left me a pound or two of flesh lighter, and “retirement” is a few years further out. But my tenants love being here (one keeps asking me to sell him the unit).

The first few mornings I woke up here and watched the light move through the space, I felt like I was in an early James Turrell installation. Don’t get me wrong: this is a simple, fairly cheap building, but Rick really understands light. I own quite a bit of art, but I’ve not hung a single thing because it’s been so lovely to just enjoy the space and light. Moreover, Rick and I and the contractor, Greg Capen—all pretty combustible personalities—are still friends. Rick was one of the first people I met in Portland. He and some others came to the Oregonian within weeks of my arrival in 1990 and pitched me on the need for architecture writing in Portland. So the building feels like another level of a 24-year dialog. 

What might be some aspirations or goals for the Yeon Center going forward? Could the Watzek House or the Shire perhaps be accessed by the public a little more often, for example?

Give me a little time, but it’s a promise: much more accessible. The new head of the architecture department of UO’s School of Architecture and Allied Arts, Judith Sheine, cofounded the Friends of the Schindler House in West Hollywood. The Watzek House was no less inspirational to NW regional modernists, and we’re co-conspiring to make the Watzek House similarly central to the architectural soul of the region.

Watzek House (photo by Brian Libby)

I once took [Pritzker Prize winning Australian architect] Glen Murcutt to the Watzek House and, after an hour of watching him parse every detail, he shook his head and said, “You know, everything I’ve ever tried to do is here.” The Shire is where the Friends of the Columbia River Gorge was born. John Yeon wrote—in the 1930s, mind you—what was, effectively, the first environmental impact statement for the Gorge—and probably the first ever done in the NW—as the Bonneville Dam’s electricity was about to transform the region. He saved two of the most prominent vistas on the Oregon Coast. John understood change. He didn’t fight it. Instead, he believed great design and planning could shape new, sustainable kinds of beauty within the change. People need to know about this legacy because, as the weather grows hotter elsewhere and more people move here, we need to similarly step up and figure out how the region can be resilient. I can’t think of any better places to ponder the potential than the Watzek House and The Shire.

In addition to your work with the Yeon Center, it sounds like like you've found a new role at Portland Monthly that might let you actually write more. Is that right? Do you ever miss being at a daily paper, or do you just feel relief that you got off the sinking ship when you did?

My proudest boast right now is that I now work for my one-time intern! I’m continuing as editor at large for Portland Monthly. Zach Dundas and Rachel Ritchie (the latter said former intern who I’ve worked with since the start of Portland Spaces, for those who remember our very good, but badly timed, design magazine) now have the reigns. I will be writing and editing, working on things like the Robert Adams profile I did a couple months ago.

As for the daily paper, I miss being published most every day, moreover the sense of being READ every day. When I started at the O, I wrote 4-5 times a week. Then, gradually, I started writing more and more emails and fewer and fewer articles. Had I stayed, it would have been more and more posts. I’m somebody who likes to think about things, then write. I wish I could think fast enough for today’s journalism. But I also wish that more journalists today wrote and investigated like yesterday’s.  I have tremendous respect for my former colleagues still working the paper (and web) and for the younger journalists who’ve joined them. The ship isn’t so much sinking as it is just breaking apart. The transition is painful, but some parts will still float. However, I got out precisely—and luckily—at the right moment for me.

I feel like I’ve been given the best of both worlds: I still get to write, mulling over each word, for a local audience who I will often run into and get talk to on the streets AND I get to work on a longer-term project—the Yeon Center--that, if I do well, will build a stronger constituency for the thing I’ve spent a lot of my career advocating for: great city and regional planning and great design.

 

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The Architect's Questionnaire: Stefanie Becker

Stefanie Becker (image courtesy of the architect)

BY LUKE AREHART

The latest installment in our ongoing series of conversations with local architects brings us to Stefanie Becker, an associate partner at ZGF Architects. Becker has spent most of the past 14 years at the firm, and has also served as president of the Portland chapter of the American Insitute of Architects. A San Diego native, Becker combines her expertise in both architecture and urban planning. She has been active in a number of local organizations including the Architecture Foundation of Oregon, the AIA Urban Design Panel, and the Willamette Neighborhood Associaton.

Portland Architecture: When did you first become interested in architecture as a possible career?

Stefanie Becker: I grew up in San Diego, and as a child I was really interested in art. I would draw and build things all of the time. Reflecting back, I realized that I did a lot of fort building in my grandmother’s backyard when I was a kid. There was a corner of the yard that I would use and there was a fence and some trees, palm fronds and some mud. I had my own little world. That was probably my initial space making adventure: making connections to nature and my environment.

When I was in high school I was interested in art and math, and I was trying to figure out what I would do for a profession. I grew up in a single-parent household, so even though exploring these ideas in college was very important to me, it seemed to me as a huge luxury that didn’t feel within my grasp. 

I had taken some aptitude tests, and the test told me I should either be a physicist or a naval architect. The word architect planted a seed in my brain. I went on to take art classes and a drafting class because I knew very little about architecture and had no mentors in the way kids do now. My art teachers - Margaret Maple, Dennis Dolby, and Wendell Montague - really encouraged architecture as a career path. 

Where did you study architecture and how would you rate the experience?

I thought about UC Berkeley and Cal Poly San Luis Obispo, but the reality was that I would be lucky to go to college at all, so I ended up applying to Cal Poly Pomona because it was close to where I lived. I was accepted and realized during my second week that I was there that it was the perfect choice for me; I loved architecture school. I felt so grateful to be at Cal Poly Pomona. It was a really interesting time when I started there in 1983 as SCI-Arc had broken off a few years before that. SCI-Arc was kind of born out of Cal Poly; it was very new and housed in a warehouse in Santa Monica. A lot of the professors had some crossover between the two schools. 

Our AIA student group would go around and do tours on the weekends. We’d get the guidebook for Los Angeles and just drive around to different buildings. We went to the Eames house and met Ray Eames, and the school was working with Mrs. Neutra, who let us host several events at the Silverlake house. These events were a lot of fun along with the interaction with the SCI-Arc movement, all while postmodern ideas were fading away and people were very critical about it. It was an exciting time and I had great professors and friends who were interested in that dialogue. Other interesting experiences were that Raphael Soriano taught during my fifth year and I drove him to school regularly. I lived near and admired a Craig Ellwood industrial building every day on the way to school.

Amidst all of these things going on, Frank Gehry had just completed work on his personal residence. There was not much other Gehry work complete, and at this time he was a character. Cal Poly invited him in for a lecture and we drove him into the building in a Volkswagen - he was standing with his head out of the sunroof. A crazy character - it was eye opening to see somebody like that then. In retrospect we realized he was changing what would happen to building design in the future. He was very confident in what he was doing and very interested in the artistry of architecture, which was wonderful. He’s got a nice personality, where sometimes there are big egos with architects– trying to sound so intellectual - but not holding a candle to what Frank ended up doing.

Cal Poly also offered a great technical education. We had landscape architects and planners in the same college, and there was a big focus on sustainability, even though we called it ‘environmental design’. Sustainability was engrained in my education.

I graduated and spent a few years working and then went to Harvard for graduate school, which was also an incredible experience. I was at Harvard with Shaun Donovan, who now is the United States Secretary of Housing and Urban Development under President Obama; I was also there with Jeanne Gang, the Chicago based architect who just received a  MacArthur Foundation "genius grant," and designed the 82-story Aqua Tower in Chicago. My urban design class was from all over the world. It’s humbling to think of the amazing people I was studying with, and the caliber of the professors – Moneo, Kreiger, Machado, Silvetti - who made this an unparalleled experience. 

I decided to go to graduate school because I felt like my undergraduate education had been so focused on architecture that I wanted to broaden my experiences. I chose to go to an urban design program, and that exposed me to urban design and city planning  - it is such a valuable perspective. 

What is your favorite building project that you’ve worked on?

The first project that I worked on from the beginning to end, after I finished my undergraduate degree, was a residential project: a house on Martha’s Vineyard. I worked at Appleton & Associates when I was in school and then after. Marc Appleton was fabulous in engaging me in the process. I was working with him doing everything from the initial planning and watercolor renderings for this house as well as going back east and doing site analysis and locating the road to get to the house. I was invited to go to all of the client meetings. It was a level of exposure that I couldn’t have hoped for. In retrospect, I realize now what a gift this was. The house ended up being published in a magazine and was a great thing for me at the beginning of my career. The work that Marc does is very traditional and very academic, but most of all very thoughtful. This was a very typical East Coast house with design elements like shingles and white trim, but so very carefully done. I learned things all those years ago that I try to build on today. 

Who has been an important mentor among your colleagues?

Marc Appleton. When I was in undergraduate school, we had to work a certain number of hours with a professional architecture firm to earn our degree. I was invited to their office to help on a charette and I ended up working there all through school and for many years after. Marc encouraged me to go to graduate school, which was wonderful. I did a lot of design work there, which I don’t do so much of now because I work on bigger projects. I very much blossomed as a designer working with Marc; we had a great shorthand with each other that was really nice. At  ZGF Architects (I’ve been here 14 years if you don’t count a short hiatus with HDR), there are so many people that have the same kind of ‘always reaching for a higher bar’ mentality. Each of the partners individually have areas that I identify with and most of them have mentored me in some way.

Joe Collins and I worked together on the Li Ka Shing Center for Biomedical and Health Sciences building at the University of California Berkeley and he helped me so much to become a strong project manager. A big part of that was his trust in me – he sort of handed it over and then worked with me whenever I needed. We had a nice dialogue and I really grew a lot on that project.

Karl Sonnenberg is another one here at ZGF who is a true mentor - it’s just so natural to him.  He cares about people and you can just tell people, especially the clients, love that. I admire his willingness to talk openly about professional growth.

As far as design mentors, there's Braulio Baptista, who is a partner in ZGF’s Los Angeles office. He was here for many years, and I actually hired him, which I am very proud of. He is incredibly good at working with people – he’s so charismatic, and naturally talented as a designer. Most of all, he is open to have a conversation about design – that can be very inspiring. When you are a project manager in a large firm, it’s easy to be a few steps removed from design – you don’t wish to be there, but it happens. Somehow that life and communication is all one with Braulio. 

What part of the job do you like best, and as an architect what do you think you most excel at?

I love the design phase of any project, even if it’s the beginning of a marketing opportunity: that excitement and the hope and the potential of what something could be, along with the interaction with my colleagues. The initial spark, where everybody share openly and we can build on ideas, is really fabulous. Going through this process with a client, especially because clients are often not used to having those experiences, is always wonderful because it is just so exciting and new to them. 

The construction phase of the project is probably my very favorite because I love the ‘roll your sleeves up’ attitude and figuring it out - how to get it done. I’m definitely a ‘get it done’ type of person and am always focused on making sure we close things out. Getting the project built and getting the problems solved that always come up in construction is incredibly satisfying. Working together with my colleagues is really an important part of what I do. This collaboration and communication is what I am passionate about, most excel at and bring to the table to a team or a project. 

I’m defining the collaboration as part of design and construction, but it needs to happen all the way through a project, it doesn’t stop anywhere. I like to work with people, love to meet new people and learn about them, and generate ideas that none of us could have generated alone, that collaborative effort is what is exciting to me.

Director Park (image courtesy ZGF)

What are some Portland buildings (either new or historic) that you most admire?

I started to think about which buildings I visit, but I couldn’t think of a building object. I really love the public spaces in Portland. I spend a ton of time at Director Park. I eat lunch there, I bring my kids there, and if I’m meeting someone, we meet there. It’s not a building; it’s a place, but I think that is such an important piece of our city. Not just Director Park, but the whole string of parks and other public spaces are a big part of what makes a city great. Anybody that I bring to town sees this park; sure, they see Timberline Lodge and Multnomah Falls if they can, but if we get near the downtown core, they get to see Director Park. For me in part it’s an homage to Greg Baldwin, who was one of the partners here – he passed away a few years ago. I bumped in to one of my friends there last summer. She had worked with Greg and she told me,  ‘I always come here when I am needing good thoughts or support, because the park reminds me of Greg and it makes me feel like he is here with me’. She was going on a job interview, so she walked through the park to bolster herself, which is really cool. It’s a great place anyway, but that layer makes it so rich for me. 

What is your favorite building outside of Portland and besides any you’ve worked on?

Being from San Diego, I would pretty regularly visit Louis Kahn’s Salk Institute. When I was in school, it was possible to walk right in to the Salk Institute. The guards would let you into the buildings and walk through the labs. They would show you everything. This building is really special to me; it was the first piece of really great architecture that I experienced.

Salk Institute (photo by Brian Libby)

Also, Tadao Ando’s Pulitzer Museum in St. Louis. I walked through this project a few years ago and found it incredibly moving and a wonderful sequence of spaces and experience - just amazing.

Architecture that has the ability to touch people in a way that they don’t really know what is going on, but they can feel that it is special, they feel inspired there: both of these buildings do that for me.

Is there a local architect or firm you think is unheralded or deserves more credit?

I love Firm 151; they are doing a lot of work with ZGF and have been very successful recently. They worked with ZGF on the two recent U of O projects and you can see a lot of their ‘hand’ in that work. 

I think Works Partnership is doing great work. It’s simple, poetic, thoughtful and strong - all at once. 

In terms of unheralded work though… as part of being President of AIA/Portland, I’m on a nominating committee and an architect named Richard Brown was on the committee with me. I asked to have a small-firm representative, somebody that I didn’t know to be in this group, so they shared Richard. He is fabulous. Then I looked at his website and the work was just beautiful. There was a wide variety of work. He’s not speaking the same language in every project. His work is very thoughtful, very elegant. 

Dangermond Keane Architecture has been in Portland for about six years and they do almost all of their work outside of Portland. This is true of many firms now because of technology. We can all work anywhere in the world. This firm does really intelligent and beautiful projects that always have an interesting spin. They are working on an underground laboratory in South Dakota and an accompanying visitor’s center. The lab is 8,000 feet underground, designed for studying neutrinos. They have done work with Deafspace back east and residential work here locally. It’s an interesting practice and something I admire because the work that they are doing is so rich and for a very small office, they engage technology to do great things.

What would you like to see change about Portland’s built environment in the long term?

I think it’s because of my urban design background and interest that I tend to appreciate the space in between. Our connection to the waterfront could be much stronger. I would love to see that happen and I know that the city thinks about that. I know it’s probably a monumental project to undertake to make any of that happen, but it would create more opportunities for us. It was a huge and brilliant move to get rid of the freeway and have Tom McCall Waterfront Park. Now let us connect to the water and not just be up above it. When that park was built, the water probably wasn’t something that anybody wanted to touch. 

I'd also favor continuing to improve public transit and the network of bicycle lanes. I can’t safely ride my bike from my house to downtown without it being risky. There are a couple parts to that ride that are tough for not being an expert cyclist. If there were a nice path, I would be more apt to ride. Continuing to work on the bike network to make it accessible to everyone makes us a unique city and we are obviously leading the pack, but we could push it further.

How would you rate the performance of local government like the Portland Development Commission, or the development and planning bureaus?

A lot of the work that I have done is outside of Portland so I haven’t had a ton of interaction with our bureaus. I have, however, because of my involvement in the AIA, come to know the Bureau of Planning and Sustainability. And I’m really excited because last year when I was president, we changed the structure of the AIA Urban Design Panel. The panel now includes AIA members, APA members and ASLA members, and hopefully soon will include engineers; they play such a big part in creating infrastructure. We reformatted that group and the city has been wonderful about engaging the local professionals and the work that they are doing. The Urban Design Panel meets on a monthly basis and the BPS has engaged us several times and shared central city plans; and we’ve had charrettes together. I am very impressed by their involvement, and I know from my colleagues in other cities that that engagement doesn’t happen everywhere. It seems from what I’ve seen and heard from other places that there is a willingness and openness here to include the professional community and the work that they are doing. That’s not all of it and it’s not everything. I haven’t been super attentive in terms of what the different commissioners are saying. I think that it’s unfortunate that politics can sometimes get in the way of doing the right thing; I hope that we can continue to do the right thing for our city. 

Who is a famous architect you’d like to see design a building in Portland?

I’m excited that Kengo Kuma is doing the Japanese Garden expansion. 

I would love to see a Tadao Ando building here in Portland.

When you start thinking about inviting an architect like that to town, it means that there is something really big happening here, and a big investment. There is so much provincialism in other cities. Sometimes, we are told that we don’t have a chance to be selected because they want to work with a local architect. I would encourage any institution that was doing something of that scale to look here in Portland. Many of our firms are doing work nationally and internationally. So many firms are doing truly high caliber work. It’s a ‘support the locals’ approach, but I think we can design a fabulous project. Of course ZGF, but you could go to Skylab, SRG, Allied Works, Works Partnership, THA, etc. I don’t want to leave out any of the good firms. It would be a shame to do something here of that caliber - like a museum - and not lean on local resources who have so much depth and talent.

Becker's canoe (image courtesy of the architect)

Name something besides architecture (sneakers, furniture, umbrellas) you love the design of.

I have an incredibly beautiful canoe, which I love. It’s by Bell Canoe Works; it uses Kevlar and is slightly transparent olive green with wood railings and cane seats. I love the design of canoes - wooden ones, too, with the ribs- as a fabulous and simple object. A beautiful object and you are connecting to the environment. What could be better?

The other thing I was thinking about, as a rich design opportunity, was food and the dining experience. First of all, you can present food beautifully and that is special. In this city we have been exposed to an amazing selection of foods and chefs. I think the experience of going to a restaurant with what you are served and the order in which you are served and the environment - that whole all encompassing experience can be amazing. It’s accessible in that the richest person to the poorest person experiences food and can choose to design the consumption of food. It reminds me of Pavarotti who said “One of the very best things about life is the way we must regularly stop whatever it is we are doing and devote our attention to eating.”

What are three of your all-time favorite movies?

"The Piano", directed by Jane Campion. I think the cinematography is incredibly beautiful and I love the story. "La Femme Nikita", the original French version with the actress Anne Parillaud –she is a total badass.

Still from La Femme Nikita (image courtesy Wikimedia Commons)

And probably the movie that had the most influence on me was "Blade Runner". When this movie first came out, I bet my friends and I watched it 50 times. We were looking at the way it was put together, the story, the architecture and the places, the cinematography - everything about it was fabulous. Even now I think this movie holds up.

 

 

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