The Sustainable Urban Design Handbook

In an era when cities face compounding pressures—climate disruption, housing scarcity, and the need for more inclusive public spaces—guidance grounded in both vision and practicality is rare. That is what makes The Sustainable Urban Design Handbook stand out. Coauthored by Nico Larco, AIA and Kaarin Knudson, AIA, it offers cities like Eugene the tools to design a more resilient, equitable future.

Published last year, the 438-page volume reflects the authors’ deep understanding of urban form and environmental systems. I’ve followed its release with interest, not only because of Nico and Kaarin’s professional credentials—Nico as a professor of architecture at the University of Oregon, and Kaarin as an architect, educator, and now mayor of Eugene—but because of my own belief in the need for such a comprehensive approach to urban design, and also because I’ve had the opportunity to discuss Eugene’s design challenges with Kaarin firsthand on multiple occasions. In a city wrestling with affordability, climate adaptation, and livability, this book feels both timely and necessary. 

The Handbook’s structure is elegant and intuitive. It organizes over 50 urban design elements into five core topic areas: Energy Use & Greenhouse Gas, Water, Ecology & Habitat, Energy Use & Production, and Equity & Health. Nico and Kaarin examine these topics across four spatial scales—Region & City, District & Neighborhood, Block & Street, and Project & Parcel—which together reveal how decisions at every level influence one another. A parcel-level bioswale, for example, supports district-wide stormwater strategies and contributes to regional watershed health. Transit-oriented neighborhoods at the district scale can dramatically reduce emissions city-wide. In Eugene, these principles are visible in efforts such as riverfront revitalization and the EmX bus rapid transit system. The Handbook offers not just ideals, but implementation strategies that resonate with our local context. 

Crucially, the book’s impact goes beyond sustainability metrics. It is also about good urban form—designing places that function well, feel good, and invite people. The Handbook includes guidance for creating walkable streets, robust stormwater networks, infill development, and affordable housing strategies—each reinforcing not only environmental performance but also quality of life. In this way, its utility transcends its title: it is as much about building desirable, livable communities as it is about reducing emissions. 

One of the most compelling aspects of the Handbook is how it balances high-level theory with on-the-ground practicality. Each design element is accompanied by clear descriptions, case studies, diagrams, and cost/difficulty ratings. For example, Nico and Kaarin note multimodal streets as cost-effective in new developments but more complex in existing urban settings—a valuable nuance for planners, designers, and decision-makers. In Eugene, the Handbook’s ideas apply directly to projects like the Franklin Boulevard redesign, where walkability and transit align with equity goals, or to affordable housing initiatives that integrate green spaces to enhance community health. These examples, blending global insight with local relevance, transform abstract concepts into tangible solutions for professionals and advocates here and beyond. 

Visually, the book’s meticulous design shines. Its diagrams translate complex ideas—of walkable streets and cross-scale stormwater management—into accessible images. These graphics facilitate collaboration, making them useful tools for workshops, design charrettes, and public engagement efforts. 

An introductory page explaining the book's chapter structure.

The Handbook is earning attention nationally. Nico recently shared that it topped Amazon’s bestseller list for Planning and Landscape Architecture, ahead of such enduring titles as The Death and Life of Great American Cities and A Pattern Language. The Handbook’s place alongside A Pattern Language on the bestseller list highlights a deeper parallel. Like Christopher Alexander’s 1977 classic, The Sustainable Urban Design Handbook presents its content through modular, interconnected parts. Alexander’s 253 patterns outline a vocabulary for shaping human environments of all scales—from regions to window seats—distilling complex design problems into practical, re-usable solutions. Similarly, Nico and Kaarin’s elements address urban challenges—heat islands, stormwater runoff, walkability—across scales and contexts. Their elements, like Alexander’s patterns, combine flexibly to yield diverse, cohesive outcomes. Both frameworks champion adaptive, systems-based thinking and an iterative approach to design. If Alexander wrote for a world seeking beauty and coherence, Nico and Kaarin write for one confronting climate breakdown and inequality—anchoring their approach in today’s most pressing challenges while echoing a time-tested methodology. 

No book is without its blind spots. While Equity & Health is a foundational topic in the Handbook, it just barely touches on the risk of displacement and gentrification—issues increasingly relevant in neighborhoods like Eugene’s culturally vibrant Whiteaker, where citywide development pressures risk undermining affordability and community cohesion. Likewise, the Handbook acknowledges implementation barriers but could do more to explore how cities build support for infrastructure investments like transit hubs or affordable housing. These gaps are worth noting, especially in a book that aims to balance ambition with feasibility. Still, they don’t diminish the Handbook’s overall value. 

This is a book for a wide audience. Professionals in architecture, planning, engineering, and landscape architecture will appreciate its technical depth. Policymakers and advocates will find clear explanations and actionable strategies. And students will encounter a richly structured resource that bridges theory and practice. In Eugene, where climate and housing challenges are front and center, the book’s ideas—cool or green roofs, transit corridors that prioritize pedestrians, ecological restoration in urban districts—offer a way forward. 

With Kaarin as Mayor, Eugene benefits uniquely from this work. Her combined experience as a designer, teacher, and civic leader positions her to help translate the Handbook’s principles into built outcomes—community spaces, transportation systems, and housing that meet environmental goals without sacrificing human needs. Her presence in local government is more than symbolic; it’s a catalyst for design-led change. 

In all, The Sustainable Urban Design Handbook is a triumph. It bridges disciplines, scales, and aspirations with clarity and conviction. While deeper attention to the social dynamics of urban change would strengthen it, its synthesis of form, function, and equity is exceptional. For Eugene—and for any city striving to do better by people, by place, and by planet—it’s not just a guidebook. It’s a blueprint.

Franklin Boulevard’s Vertical Growth and the Policy Void Beneath It

A trio of Eugene's recently built luxury student apartment buildings: "The Standard" on the left, "The Rive" in the distance, and "Union on Broadway" on the right (my photo).
 

A Houston, Texas developer (The Dinerstein Companies) proposes an eleven-story apartment tower (dubbed The Aspire) containing 210 units at the site of the now-shuttered 66 Motel on East Broadway/Franklin Boulevard at Hilyard Street.(1) This project joins the surge of mid- and high-rise residential buildings here in Eugene targeting students, particularly near the University of Oregon, Bushnell University, and in the West University neighborhood. The most recent of these projects are proceeding despite signs of market saturation and the growing gap between this specific housing supply and the city’s urgent need for affordable options.
 
This pattern of growth is unsurprising when viewed through the lens of private development economics. Student-focused apartment towers generate reliable profits, especially those leased by the bedroom. As I wrote back in 2021, these luxury student projects command high rents, benefit from strong and predictable occupancy, and pose relatively low risk for developers as long as university enrollment remains steady. The University of Oregon alone draws approximately 23,000 students (undergraduate and graduate) each year, many from out of state and able to afford rents well above the citywide average. These conditions position student housing as an attractive investment vehicle, even as the broader housing market continues to underserve workers, families, and non-student residents.
 
Eugene’s land use policy framework exacerbates the issue. Along East Broadway and Franklin Boulevard, and at other sites near campus, zoning encourages high-density, multi-story construction. The City also designates major corridors like Franklin and parts of 13th Avenue for urban-style development to promote density and transit access. These policies advance sustainability goals, but they do not necessarily prioritize diverse housing types. The Eugene Code generally addresses luxury student towers and mixed-income housing as if they are similar, despite their vastly different constituencies.
 
State-level constraints further limit Eugene’s options. Oregon law prohibits traditional rent control and, more importantly, bars mandatory inclusionary zoning for rental properties—meaning the city cannot require developers to include affordable units in new apartment buildings unless those units are for sale. While voluntary inclusionary housing programs exist, they rely on incentive structures—typically in the form of density bonuses or fee waivers—that developers may simply ignore when the market renders their projects feasible without them.

"The Aspire," which will be built on the site of the old 66 Motel.

 
The result is a housing pipeline heavily weighted toward student-oriented rentals, with little regard for affordability or long-term community needs. These buildings often feature private bedrooms and bathrooms, rooftop decks, gyms, and leasing models geared toward high turnover and premium rent. While they absorb some of the student population, they do little to alleviate the broader housing shortage and can worsen it by driving up land values, displacing long-term renters, and consuming development capacity that could otherwise foster more inclusive housing.
 
Other university cities have taken stronger action to correct this imbalance. In Boulder, Colorado, the city imposes linkage fees on new residential development, directing those funds toward affordable housing. Berkeley, California, enforces a well-established inclusionary zoning program requiring a percentage of units in new buildings to be priced below market. Chapel Hill, North Carolina, requires that 15 percent of housing in most new developments be affordable, and enforces this requirement with regular audits. Though these measures have not solved their housing crises outright, they reflect a recognition that the market alone will not deliver the diversity of housing necessary to support equitable communities.
 
Eugene could pursue several similar measures within its current legal constraints. The city can strengthen and expand its use of voluntary inclusionary housing tools by offering more meaningful incentives to developers who include below-market-rate units. It could impose higher construction excise taxes and direct those additional funds toward the acquisition of land for affordable housing. It can support nonprofit housing developers with access to publicly owned land and expedited permitting processes. Importantly, Eugene could work more closely with the University of Oregon to address the demand side of the equation—by encouraging the university to invest more directly in student housing, either through new on-campus residence halls or by partnering with mission-driven housing providers to build mixed-income housing specifically for students with modest financial resources.
 
Protecting neighborhoods most vulnerable to displacement is also crucial. The city can adopt anti-demolition measures for older (yet sound) naturally affordable housing stock; create zoning overlays that prioritize family-sized and affordable units; and direct tax increment financing from urban renewal districts into housing stabilization funds. Furthermore, Eugene could expand its engagement with community land trusts and housing cooperatives, which offer long-term affordability through models that remove land from speculative markets.

The Aspire. 

The continued march of luxury student towers along Franklin Boulevard and beyond is not inevitable. It reflects a policy environment that allows the logic of private finance to dominate the planning and development process. This is why I believe the City must adopt a more deliberate and proactive stance toward addressing its housing shortage in a way that serves the full breadth of its population. That means acknowledging the limits of current zoning policy, reevaluating the assumptions behind development incentives, and using every available tool—financial, regulatory, and collaborative—to rebalance the housing ecosystem.
 
The cranes may keep rising, but unless Eugene redirects the framework shaping what gets built, the result will be a city increasingly defined by what is easiest to finance, not by what is most urgently needed. 

(1)    The Aspire project was subject to an Adjustment Review, which the City of Eugene Planning Director approved. You can find documents associated with the Adjustment Review application here. The proposed building totals approximately 420,000 square feet, while the site is 71,170 square feet in area (the floor area ratio is thus 5.9:1). The architect for the project is TCA Architects of Los Angeles. John Hyland Construction will be the general contractor. Hyland built several of the recent student housing towers along East Broadway and Franklin Boulevard, including The Hub, The Rive, 959 Franklin, and Union on Broadway.

Flight Plans and Fiscal Fog

Eugene Airport (my photo)

Back in 2021, I wrote about the Eugene Airport’s ambitious plans to accommodate future growth, improve operations, and enhance the passenger experience. At the time, the COVID-19 pandemic had only recently upended global travel, delaying—but not derailing—EUG’s long-range vision. I’m revisiting the topic, prompted by recent news reports about the airport, as well as the EUG Advanced Terminal Planning Study (which I hadn't been aware of until now) completed by RS&H in December 2022. That 2022 study builds upon RS&H’s 2018 Airport Master Plan and makes clear that the Eugene Airport still sees itself as a regional hub poised for major transformation. Today’s planning optimism does come with an important caveat: funding uncertainties at the federal level could place key elements of the master plan at risk. 

The centerpiece of the airport’s next phase of terminal expansion is Concourse C—a new double-loaded, eight-gate pier that would dramatically increase aircraft and passenger capacity. The preferred design concept strikes a balance between spatial efficiency and passenger convenience. A central concessions hub anchors the concourse, giving vendors shared visibility across all holdrooms. While the connecting walkway is relatively long, it clears apron space for aircraft maneuvering and creates opportunities along the procession for features like a club lounge and changeable art installations and displays tied to the identity of Eugene and the surrounding region. 

Notably, the proposal for Concourse C includes a swing gate system that can be closed off for charter use, providing complete separation from regular terminal operations. Charter travelers—especially university athletic teams—would enter through a self-contained lower-level terminal that includes its own ticketing, screening, baggage handling, and bus-accessible drop-off. The remaining space in the charter facility would be reserved for airline operations support. The images here (from the 2022 EUG Advanced Terminal Planning Study) describe how impactful the addition of the new concourse will be. 

Terminal site plan with expansions. The proposed new Concourse C is in green (source: EUG Advanced Terminal Planning Study)

The 2022 RS&H cost estimates for Concourse C varied between $124.5 million and $146.4 million, with the charter terminal adding another $8.6 million to $9.2 million. Combined with planned expansions to Concourse A, ticketing, baggage handling, parking, and airfield safety systems, the financial scope of the buildout is substantial—currently north of $270 million and rising quickly. 

Night rendering of Concourse C concept (source: EUG Advanced Terminal Planning Study)

The overall, long-term vision, first articulated in RS&H’s 2018 Master Plan and still very much alive as of their 2022 update, is audacious: a complete reorientation of the terminal complex to align with the airport’s parallel runways. Concourse C is the first tangible step in that direction. Ultimately, the goal is to entirely replace the existing terminal building to achieve this end and further increase the number of gates. 

While the concept plan is forward-thinking, the funding outlook is increasingly uncertain. 

Airport officials expected to tap a mix of FAA grants, airport revenues, passenger facility charges, municipal bonding, and private investment to fund the major capital projects. However, recent developments in Washington are casting a shadow over this strategy. The Trump administration’s Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE), spearheaded by Elon Musk, has placed a temporary freeze on federal funding streams—including FAA grants—pending comprehensive audits of federal spending. This sweeping review has delayed or jeopardized portions of nearly $3 trillion in grants, contracts, and loans. 

The FAA itself has come under strain. Hundreds of staff members, including many in key technical roles, have been dismissed as part of the administration’s “efficiency overhaul.” While there has been no direct indication that EUG’s funding is among the grants at risk, the broader implications are unavoidable. Any airport counting on federal support to move forward with major projects must now contend with the possibility of delays, reductions, or outright cancellations. 

That doesn’t mean the plans are doomed. Eugene Airport has a strong record of strategic planning and incremental growth. Its past projects have been phased smartly, triggered by actual passenger demand and guided by a sound development blueprint. With commercial activity rebounding and smaller hub airports enjoying renewed popularity for their ease and accessibility, EUG’s underlying growth projections remain solid. Nevertheless, the pathway to realizing those projections will depend not only on demand, but on stable, reliable funding—something that’s no longer a given in the current political climate. 

As a Eugene resident, I value our airport’s relative calm and convenience compared to the sprawl and congestion of larger terminals. I want to see the Eugene Airport thrive, grow, and adapt. I also recognize that ambitious plans—no matter how well conceived—are only as sound as the financial and political systems that support them.

The Strange Elasticity of Time

Photo by Theodor Vasile on Unsplash

A close friend of mine passed away last week. He was 66. The cause was complications from a massive stroke—unexpected and sudden, though in hindsight, perhaps not entirely surprising. He was not a model of health; regardless, his death unsettled me more than I expected.

Being recently retired—and like many who step away from a long career—I find myself looking backward almost as often as I look forward. When I do, I notice something odd: the past isn’t behaving the way it’s supposed to. It doesn't stretch out behind me like a long road I’ve walked. Instead, decades compress into single moments. I can still see myself in design studio at the University of Oregon, pushing lead across tracing paper, certain that everything lay ahead. I can just as easily recall the day I met my wife—forty-four years ago, though it feels as recent as last week. These memories haven’t faded; they’ve grown more vivid, even as time continues its slow erasure of detail.

There’s something deeply disorienting about that.

The death of a contemporary—a friend since we were in high school—brings this strange elasticity of time into sharper focus. We assume age brings perspective, and it does. But it also brings the realization that the boundaries between youth and old age, beginning and end, are not as firm as we imagined. It’s not that life is short, exactly. It’s that we’re not built to feel its length. Time, as we live it, is all compression and dilation.

I have no lesson to offer. No tidy maxim about seizing the day. Those may be true, but repetition dulls their edge. Here's what I can say: we’re often startled by how fast it all moves—not because we weren’t paying attention, but rather because we were.

Perhaps that’s the part I’m reckoning with. That attention is not a safeguard against impermanence. That no amount of care, love, effort, or presence will anchor a moment in place.

I will miss my friend. I’ll miss the shared shorthand of a friendship more than a half-century long. I’ll miss the fact that there will be no more conversations, no more updates, no more additions to the long story we’ve been telling one another since we were teenagers. 

Still, I carry that story with me. It’s part of the architecture of my life. Like many things I once drew by hand, it is indelible—even as the paper yellows and curls at the edges. And though time bends and stretches, that story holds its shape, a quiet defiance of transience.

Open Space and Civic Ambitions

The fallow North Butterfly Lot as seen from Oak Street (Google Street View).

It’s déjà vu all over again: the City of Eugene stands once more at a pivotal moment in defining its downtown identity. Two parcels—the undeveloped corner of the downtown Park Blocks (a.k.a. the “North Butterfly Lot”), once eyed for a new City Hall, and the former City Hall site, now a parking lot owned by Lane County—await direction. With City Hall now settled in the former EWEB headquarters, the roles of the two sites demand fresh consideration. Community voices, and practical matters, offer starting points, but their future hinges on pending decisions. 

The Park Blocks have long been a public anchor for downtown. Nevertheless, the City of Eugene is proceeding with plans to privatize the undeveloped North Butterfly parcel. The plans include a Zone change from PL Public Land to C-3 Major Commercial. City planners contend that the property’s current zoning limits redevelopment opportunities, favoring the C-3 Major Commercial zone change to enable more housing downtown. Toward achieving this goal, the City will issue a formal Request for Proposals to developers that will include the stipulation that all responses must include housing as a primary component. 

In a March 27 letter to the Eugene Weekly (as well as in his subsequent April 6 guest column in the Register-Guard), William Sullivan opposes this idea, agreeing with Mayor Kaarin Knudson that downtown needs housing but arguing that the Park Blocks site is too small for an apartment building and its parking needs. He calls for a park-focused design competition instead, suggesting features like a playground, a giant “EUGENE” sculpture, bigleaf maple trees, a Frog memorial bench, and a SLUG queen throne to reflect Eugene’s quirks. 

"OTTAWA" sign in Ottawa, Canada. William Sullivan proposes a similar "EUGENE" sign/sculpture for the Park Blocks (my photo).

I do not share Sullivan’s size concern; the parcel is no smaller than the site of the former Lane Community College Downtown Center/Montgomery Ward department store at 1055 Willamette Street. That property is earmarked for replacement with a new apartment complex, for which construction is on track to begin this year. Nor will any mandate to provide associated vehicle parking present an issue as the City of Eugene recently eliminated minimum parking requirements citywide; in any event, existing nearby parking facilities can absorb much of the demand generated by any new development. 

I do agree with William Sullivan that a multifamily housing project feels out of place here; importantly, city founder Eugene Skinner donated the land to the City for its express use as a civic square, not for its eventual sale or lease to a private developer. I believe a public use that activates and frames the northwest quadrant of the Park Blocks would better serve its role as the downtown’s most important open space. An apartment building risks feeling out of place unless its ground floor prioritizes active, public uses. While mixed-use buildings often shape successful squares, I believe this site needs an architectural punctuation mark, not just fabric. 

The Farmers Market Pavilion already provides indoor event space, so duplicating that function seems redundant. Instead, picture a stage framed by a sleek, modern arch for outdoor performances, paired with support facilities and a café—a lively, public-oriented backdrop—with commercial spaces behind facing 7th Avenue. This could buffer 7th Avenue noise, enclose the north end, and if scaled right, complement the park’s openness. This approach aligns with the Park Blocks’ legacy as a communal hub, enhancing rather than encroaching upon it. 

The Park Blocks (left) and the County-owned parking lot (right). The North Butterfly Lot parcel is outlined by the yellow dashed line.

A block away, the former City Hall site (bounded by Pearl Street on the west, 7th Avenue on the north, High Street on the east, and 8th Avenue on the south) presents a different challenge. Since Lane County took ownership in a 2018 land swap with the City of Eugene, the lot has served as a 285-space parking facility—a stopgap after plans for a new county courthouse faltered. The existing courthouse, built in 1954, struggles with accessibility, inadequate space, and outdated systems, handling 33,000 cases annually in cramped quarters. In 2018-2019, I contributed to the conceptual design of a proposed Lane County Justice Center, including a new courthouse, as part of a team led by Robertson/Sherwood/Architects with DLR Group’s Justice+Civic studio. Our vision underpinned a $252 million bond measure, but it failed with 58% of voters opposed, leaving the site’s future unclear. Today, it generates parking revenue—a practical use—but it falls short of its civic potential. Reserving the property for a justice center still makes sense—no viable alternative site has emerged, and the county’s long-term needs persist. 

In her April 3 letter to the Eugene Weekly in response to William Sullivan’s own the week before, Maureen McClain suggested the now County-owned block might host housing rather than a new courthouse, a nod to Eugene’s residential shortfall. Could Lane County pivot to private development? It’s plausible. The site’s value and the city’s housing crunch might entice a sale or lease for apartments or mixed-use projects, especially if courthouse funding remains elusive. However, the land swap’s public-use intent, zoning hurdles, and community attachment to civic spaces could complicate such a shift. And what other site exists downtown that could accommodate a future County courthouse? For now, the parking lot endures, its fate tied to fiscal realities and political will. 

Blocking diagram of one of the 2018 Lane County Justice Center development scenarios (Robertson/Sherwood/Architects w/DLR Group).

If neither the North Butterfly Lot nor the former City Hall site are appropriate for accommodating much needed housing, where do such properties exist? If I could wave a magic wand, and if I had the means to make it happen, my first target would be one of the several surface parking lots, such as the one at 10th and High (owned by Broadway Pearl Associates, LLC) or the lot at Broadway and Pearl (owned by Diamond parking). I imagine such centrally located opportunities as ideal sites, practical alternatives for mixed-use projects that include significant housing components. 

Together, the North Butterfly Lot and the former City Hall block raise a core question: how should Eugene balance utility, growth, and identity? The Park Blocks deserve a civic anchor that preserves their public role, while the former City Hall site holds potential for infrastructure that meets long-term needs.  Should housing override the North Butterfly Lot’s public legacy, or should the City secure it as a defining civic space for the Park Blocks? The answer will shape downtown’s future.