Hope Abbey Mausoleum (all photos by me)
A recent walk with my friend J.F.
Alberson, principal of TBG Architects + Planners, prompted this
exploration of the Hope Abbey Mausoleum. With the Eugene Masonic Cemetery as the
chosen destination for our weekly stroll, we set out from my home, meandering
through south Eugene to the cemetery at 26th & University. Upon
arriving, we were fortunate to meet Sara Besch, the cemetery’s business
manager, who graciously opened the mausoleum for us to explore its interior. It
was my first time stepping inside Hope Abbey. Sara’s insights into its history
and the challenges it has faced—ranging from vandalism to unsanctioned
fraternity parties on the roof—brought the building’s story to life. Our visit
inspired a deeper appreciation for this architectural gem and its enduring
legacy.SW Oregon Architect Emeritus
Architecture and urban design in Oregon's southern Willamette Valley
Sunday, May 18, 2025
Hope Abbey Mausoleum
Sunday, May 11, 2025
The Architecture of Ritual
Sistine Chapel (Photo by Snowdog at Italian Wikipedia., CC BY-SA 3.0 <http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/>, via Wikimedia Commons)
In contrast, St.
Peter’s Square staged the event’s public dimension. The crowd gathered there
understood the signals. Dark smoke meant inconclusive voting. White smoke
confirmed a result. The central balcony of the basilica offered a platform from
which the new pope could be revealed, framed by the architecture as both
figurehead and shepherd. The spatial sequence—from private deliberation to
public appearance—mirrored the transition from selection to leadership.
Even the pope’s
clothing choices communicated intent. Pope Leo XIV wore the red mozzetta—a
shoulder cape that had fallen out of use under his predecessor, Pope Francis.
That decision sparked interest because it suggested a return to visible
expressions of papal tradition. Francis, in 2013, had declined the mozzetta to
emphasize humility and discontinuity with a more monarchical style of papacy.
By choosing to wear it, Leo XIV aligned himself with earlier precedent, not
necessarily rejecting simplicity but reasserting the symbolic aspects of the
office. Vesture, like ritual and architecture, helps define the papal role—not
only for the faithful, but for the watching world.
Architecture outside
religious contexts can function in similar ways. A courthouse, for example, may
guide participants through security checkpoints, long corridors, and formal
chambers, reinforcing the seriousness of the proceedings. A university campus
might use a progression of quads, arcades, and lecture halls to communicate
hierarchy, purpose, and community. These sequences don’t rely on belief; they
rely on structure. When people move through spaces designed to mark transition,
the experience becomes comprehensible.
Ritual and
architecture also share a reliance on symbolism. In the Conclave, the white
smoke became a decisive symbol, understood across languages and cultures. It
gained this power through repetition and context. Likewise, in architecture,
repeated formal cues—such as a threshold, a dome, or a columned portico—signal
importance or transition. These cues don't need to be literal to be effective.
They work because people have learned to recognize and interpret them.
Tradition persists
not simply because of reverence for the past, but because it serves a practical
function, reflecting patterns that have held meaning over time. When a
procession follows a defined route, it creates order. When a ceremony unfolds
in a particular place, it draws strength from continuity. These enduring forms—examples
include the circular layouts of ancient gathering spaces or the thresholds marking
transitions—demonstrate how physical design can give shape to shared experience.
Architects who understand this can design spaces that support shared purposes,
even in secular contexts. A civic plaza can invite assembly. A memorial can
promote reflection. A council chamber can foster deliberation. The forms vary,
but the intent remains: to shape human behavior and understanding through
spatial design.
The Vatican
illustrates how physical settings can support both timeless ritual and subtle
change. The buildings remain constant even as each pope brings a different tone
to the office. Leo XIV’s decision to embrace certain visual traditions doesn’t
indicate a return to old hierarchies, but it does suggest an interest in
reaffirming the symbolic weight of the role. Within the architectural and
procedural framework of the Vatican, that kind of gesture has room to resonate.
The 2025 Conclave
demonstrated how space, sequence, and symbolism work together to create meaning,
even where disagreement exists. The Catholic Church includes a wide spectrum of
views, yet the Conclave’s shared structure produced a clear, public outcome,
offering a framework for moving forward despite differences. Though I am not
religious, nor particularly spiritual, the event presented me with insights of
broad relevance. In a time when many institutions face fragmentation, the
deliberate use of ritual and architecture to foster clarity, continuity, and
collective focus remains a powerful tool.
Sunday, May 4, 2025
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.
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.
Sunday, April 27, 2025
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.
Sunday, April 20, 2025
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.
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.
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