Looking Beyond 2019 (Way, Way Beyond)

Earthrise, by NASA/Bill Anders

A problem with New Year resolutions is their typically limited outlook. On a personal level, annual self-reflection and recalibration can be helpful but what we all need is an appreciation for the long view, one measured well beyond the bounds of a single circuit about the sun. Human shortsightedness is at the root of many of our woes, so expanding our panorama to encompass a vastly broader horizon should be an essential part of our yearly resolve to make changes for the better. 

Speaking of a broad horizon, this past Christmas Eve marked the 50^th anniversary of the iconic photograph of a distant Earth taken from lunar orbit by Apollo 8 astronaut Bill Anders. I’m old enough to remember the Apollo 8 mission well and how monumentally significant that single photo would prove to be.(1) The Earthrise image spurred the environmental movement by vividly depicting how tiny and fragile our planet is against the backdrop of an infinitely vast and dark universe. Everybody immediately realized one and all share the same “little boat floating in space” and that humanity’s fate is hitched to that lonely boat. 

Author and architect Lance Hosey wrote a piece for Treehugger.com acknowledging the anniversary of Bill Anders’ Earthrise photo but also suggesting its outsized impact upon our attitudes toward our planet has actually undermined the very movement it launched. In his view, Earth is now too often perceived as an object, every place on it a mere point on a globe, each one like the other. Consequently, he asserts, we speak of the “environment” in the singular rather than as an endlessly diverse variety of extant landscapes and ecologies. 

I agree with Lance but also disagree at the same time. I believe the value of the Earthrise photo is unassailable and essential to comprehending how tenuous the dynamical system that sustains the planet’s biosphere is. 

As Lance contends, while a planetary perspective does serve a purpose, we must reestablish our loyalty to the land and not lose our appreciation for the diversity of cultures, the individuality of place, and the singularity of settings. Architects excel when this appreciation is applied to their work. Enhancing a sense of place—imparting a physical, emotional, and spiritual connectedness to specific settings—is vital to celebrating the infinite diversity of immersive experiences possible and the multiplicity of world views that uniquely exist on our small, blue planet. 

But that serves my point: To the best of our current knowledge, the entirety of Earth is implausibly unique. Life elsewhere in the universe may be exceedingly rare, the varying and dynamic conditions required to support it requiring circumstances balanced precipitously between order and chaos. Earth may be more special than a strictly Copernican view of our universe would hold. Count me among those who are proponents of an anthropic principle that suggests we exist in an extremely privileged position—one humanity must acknowledge if there is any hope of preserving it. An ability to appreciate our cosmic context is crucial to understanding the specifics of any earthbound place and time. 

Some long for humankind to become an interplanetary species. To me that dream has always been tinged with a shade of resignation regarding Earth’s destiny. Elon Musk’s justification for pursuing a goal of building civilizations in space is his belief in the need to “preserve the light of consciousness” because “it is unknown whether we are the only civilization alive in the observable universe, but any chance that we are is added impetus for extending life beyond Earth.” Such reasoning betrays a fatalistic attitude—a certainty about the inevitability of a tragic fate for our planet. Among other things, we would lose a fundamental aspect of our identity should we abandon our planet for another home. It’s precisely because we and Earth are so unique that fighting for our preservation and the “singularity of settings” here is so important. 

My wife and I recently engaged in a debate about this topic. Why expend precious “treasure and oil” on space exploration, she argued, when those same resources might be applied to solving earthly problems? Shouldn’t Elon Musk (SpaceX), Jeff Bezos (Blue Origin), Richard Branson (Virgin Galactic), and the others direct more of their wealth toward combating climate change, hunger, disease, homelessness, species loss, and despair? Of course, these concerns deserve everyone’s attention and substantial investment. As I wrote previously, there will always exist needs that trump others. Money isn’t the point. What should be important is our innate desire to invest energy and potential in the exploration of the unknown, in pursuits that enlist the power of our imaginations. Our sense of awe, wonder, and curiosity are central to who we are as human beings. 

If architects are to remain relevant in the decades to come, they’ll need to think big, look over the immediate horizon, and consider what it means fundamentally to dwell upon the earth. It will be their responsibility to wonder and explore, if not the larger universe, the nearer spaces closer to home they can control. Like space scientists, they will need to enlist and exercise human curiosity for the sake of a future that can be better for theirs and future generations. 

Each of us may resolve to exercise more, eat healthily, or spend more time with family and friends in the new year. For 2019, I encourage all of you to also look beyond your immediate concerns and take the long view. If we all do this, the odds of safeguarding livability aboard the third rock from the sun will be improved by many orders of magnitude.  

(1)  Like many young people during the 1960s, I was enthralled by the race to space between the Soviet Union and the U.S. and idolized the courageous cosmonauts and astronauts. I dreamed of becoming an astronaut myself, settling instead upon a decidedly terrestrial career as an architect. Even today, I can name the crew members for nearly every one of NASA’s Mercury, Gemini, and Apollo missions without having to rely upon Google. 

Have you Signed Up for the 2019 CSI Certification Classes Yet?

The 2019 editions of the Construction Specifications Institute-Willamette Valley Chapter certification classes are rapidly approaching. As I described previously, while the principal purpose of the courses is to assist those planning to take one or more of the CSI-sponsored certification examinations(1), they’re also beneficial to anyone in the AEC industry seeking foundational training in the preparation and use of construction documents.

As the saying goes, knowledge is power. Knowledge provides a competitive edge. Architecture and construction are increasingly dependent upon the effective conveyance of design intent. They are likewise dependent upon the clear definition of project responsibilities and roles detailed by the forms of agreement most widely used in construction projects. It’s important and necessary for everyone—owners, architects, engineers, specifiers, general contractors, subcontractors, construction materials suppliers, and others—to understand project delivery options, standard forms of agreement, means for organizing drawings and specifications, etc. 

Knowledgeable employers highly value those who understand the language of construction, its underlying principles and terminology, and the critical relationships between all the participants in any design and construction undertaking. Employees who thoroughly understand this language not only survive but are more likely to thrive. They are the winners in today’s challenging and constantly changing environment. 

So, if you haven’t already done so, sign up now for either the Construction Documents or the Construction Contract Administration series of classes, both of which start in January. The early bird rates for the registration fees may no longer be available but the classes are truly a bargain at any price.

Construction Contract Documents (CDT) Classes:

https://app.box.com/s/qbyum0t8qhr4nilb7bpwsscr2bvuquv4

Construction Contract Administration (CCA) Classes: https://app.box.com/s/xf9sa4zrzgopmses7xgev3qeunx4uwkj

If you have any questions, please call me at 541-342-8077 or send me an email at rnishimura@robertsonsherwood.com.  

(1) The CDT will be offered at testing sites in the United States and Canada for Spring 2019.

CCCA, CCS, and CCPR will take a hiatus to undergo critical program research and exam review.  Plan now to sit for the Certified Construction Contract Administrator (CCCA), Certified Construction Specifier (CCS) and Certified Construction Product Representative (CCPR) with revised exams during the Fall 2019 testing cycle. For more info and testing dates, see https://www.csiresources.org/certification/csi-certification.

Beautiful Sound

The Cascade Chorus

A December tradition for me and my wife is to attend the Cascade Chorus’ annual Holiday Concert. The Cascade Chorus is a performing group based in Eugene specializing in the a cappella barbershop sound. We never fail to enjoy the concert as it reliably transports us on a nostalgic trip back to the simpler times of our youth, providing a soul-satisfying dose of seasonal cheer and reverence as each choral group offers their take on a variety of old holiday standards. 

A definite highlight of the 2+ hour concert was a performance by the Oregon Young Men’s Ensemble. The group is comprised of talented high-schoolers who clearly love and appreciate the rich history of choral music. Their renditions of a traditional Hebraic chant and Ave Maria (in Latin) were inspiringly beautiful and otherworldly, so much so that my wife was moved to tears. No doubt, the sympathetic acoustic properties of space in which the concert occurred contributed immeasurably toward its unqualified success. Unquestionably, the architecture mattered to the performances. 

This year’s edition of the Holiday Concert took place at the Eugene Church of Christ, within the church’s roomy sanctuary. I am not a member of the congregation, so I wasn’t previously familiar with the facility. Charitably speaking, the sanctuary is nondescript, not unlike several others I have been in of similar vintage (my guess is the building dates from the 1960s or 70s). These spaces often feature rectangular plans, with a simple, gabled volume oriented lengthwise, framed by glued-laminated arches. The interior surfaces of the sanctuary at the Eugene Church of Christ are mostly reflective: painted gypsum board or plaster, brick, or wood. What surprised me was how, despite the relative absence of acoustically absorbent materials (other than the members of the audience and the upholstered chairs they sat on), the choral performances were clear and warm, with just the right balance of direct and reflected sound. The venue proved ideal for both the ethereal voices of the Oregon Young Men’s Ensemble and the barbershop stylings of the Cascade Chorus and the other groups. 

The behavior of sound in architectural spaces should be predictable, and yet some of the most extravagant performance venues in recent memory have been notorious for their poor acoustical performance, among them the opera hall at the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts in Washington, D.C. and the Sydney Opera House’s Concert Hall. With the enlistment of the best experts and the lavish expenditure of capital construction funds, how does this happen? Contrast the performance of those venues with as humble a facility as the sanctuary of the Eugene Church of Christ and you’re left to ask whether the field of architectural acoustics may be more akin to alchemy than science. 

Perhaps there is no categorical means to declare one space as truly superior to another when it comes to what performers and audience members consider to be the best acoustics. Simply put, people are not all the same. Human preferences differ. That said, it may be no coincidence that many of the concert halls considered to be the best in the world are of the “shoebox” configuration that is shared by the Eugene Church of Christ sanctuary. There’s something about their basic shape and proportions that must be consistent with the pleasant rendering of instruments’ sounds and voices and how we hear them. 

What I don’t understand is why many consider loud noise and excessive reverberance somehow desirable for some interiors, particularly popular restaurants and public houses. The aural assault these spaces unleash on my ears is often unbearable. Speech is frequently unintelligible, so I often feign listening during conversations. Open kitchens are the worst, with all their clanging and banging of pots and utensils. Why did this ever become a thing? Give me quiet serenity over a raucous din any day. 

As an architect, particularly one who has been in the profession for so many years and who has worked on a variety of project types, I should possess a more solid grasp of the fundamental principles of architectural acoustics. The truth is I don’t. In practice, my office relies upon the services of architectural acoustics consultants (such as Creative Acoustics Northwest, Inc.) to ensure our designs perform as intended. The field of architectural acoustics is well established, but for every nine parts of it that are grounded in science, it’s clear one significant part derives from inspired artistry. It is in the application of this artistry that the best consultants earn their keep. 

A cappella singing may not be your cup of tea, but if it is, I highly recommend you attend an event featuring the Cascade Chorus or the Oregon Young Men’s Ensemble. They truly make music for your ears.

45 Years of Patterns at the University of Oregon

Volcanology Building (left) and Willamette Hall (right), University of Oregon (my photo)

I attended a talk last Friday by Chris Ramey, AIA on the subject of The Oregon Experiment and the University of Oregon’s integration of its lessons and principles into the university’s Campus Plan. His presentation was an abbreviated version of the one he gave this past October at the Portland Urban Architecture Research Lab (PUARL) 10-Year Anniversary Conference, at which scholars and practitioners from around the world convened to discuss the future of pattern languages and their application to architecture, urban design, and other fields. 

Chris was formerly the university’s Associate Vice President for Campus Planning / Design & Construction and held the title of University Architect. During his 28 years at Oregon, he guided the university through its largest-ever building boom—more than $1 billion of construction projects representing nearly 4 million square feet of space. As a consequence, he is perhaps the one person most qualified to comment on the successes and shortcomings of the user-centric, process-based design approach described by The Oregon Experiment and pioneered by Christopher Alexander and his colleagues at the Center for Environmental Structure (CES). 

I previously described the significance and influence of The Oregon Experiment so I won’t recount it extensively here. Chris likewise limited his accounting of how CES intended it to be a means to democratize the design process and challenge the entrenched paradigm of centralized, top-down planning. What Chris did do was to place The Oregon Experiment in the university’s historical context. 

Before its advent, the university had developed a series of campus master plans, each of which belied the supposed benefits of “fixed image” plans. Rather than enduring, each in turn would quickly become obsolete as the university’s needs and circumstances changed. The 1962 plan even proposed constructing new buildings on the site of the Pioneer Cemetery, which prompted swift opposition. By 1970, the university decided it needed to change its management of campus planning processes and retained CES with the goal of democratizing the design process. The Oregon Experiment was the revolutionary outcome of that decision. 

A fundamental principle of The Oregon Experiment is that a whole emerges gradually from separate actions and that the joining of these actions into a cohesive design comes not from a predetermined map, but from the application of a process. In other words, there is no dominating fixed image for the campus of the kind that preceded the adoption of The Oregon Experiment. This concept acknowledges the fact that although change will occur, the exact nature and magnitude of that change cannot be predicted with any degree of certainty. Planning at the University of Oregon was thus intended to be a continual process and not based on a static document that is dusted off periodically only to become obsolete soon after it is updated. 

Looking back, Chris noted the dearth of construction activity on the UO campus following the 1975 publication of The Oregon Experiment. The first real products of the approach espoused by The Oregon Experiment would be the College of Education additions (designed by Will Martin) and the School of Music's additions (by BOORA) in the late 1970s. As the Eighties dawned the country, and particularly Oregon, was mired in a deep recession so very little work occurred. Things picked up again in the 1990s with the renovation and expansion of the Knight Library (designed by TBG with Shepley Bulfinch) and the development of the Science complex by Charles W. Moore and Ratcliff Associates. For all of these projects, users developed their own unique patterns modeled after those found in the 1977 classic volume A Pattern Language. 

The users for the College of Education project believed their south campus location marginalized the college such that it did not feel like an integral part of the university, so they developed a pattern intended to rectify that condition. The Knight Library stakeholders found the facility’s numerous renovations and additions had resulted in an accretion of confusing spaces and circulation paths. They developed the “one building” and “no maps needed” patterns in response. 

In 1995, the university codified the integration of users into the design process for building projects, providing a framework within which user-directed planning could take place. The university’s current Campus Plan (adopted in 2005) incorporates the usage of patterns to articulate commonly held values to achieve effective and meaningful dialog about important campus design issues. Consistent with the precepts of The Oregon Experiment, the Campus Plan favors process over image, honors the university’s tradition of meaningful consultation with students, faculty, and staff, and provides for continuous adjustment of campus facilities in response to changing educational policies and programs. 

As mentioned above, Chris oversaw an unprecedented construction boom during his tenure at the helm of Campus Planning/Design & Construction. On balance, he believes the products of the process-oriented approach are uniformly superior to the 1950s-1970s generation of projects that preceded them. Of the many projects he was involved with, Chris singled out the HEDCO Building by Hacker Architects in 2009 as being particularly successful. Hacker’s design executed the “hearth” pattern quite literally, incorporating a residential-style fireplace in a generously proportioned lounge space. The fireplace has become an immensely popular spot, so much so that it is sought-after by Education majors and non-majors alike as a site for quiet study and conversations. 

On the flip side, Chris did acknowledge the user-centric approach to campus planning and building design has its limits and suffered its share of critics. A proverbial “fight over the steering wheel” exists if design professionals fail to embrace dialogue with and participation by the end users. There are those who insist the process-heavy approach discourages bold, award-winning designs, while others decry it as inefficient and time-consuming. 

The university does have special interests that must be accounted for, and coordination of separate development activities is essential if they are to result in a cohesive campus. To the detriment of its Campus Plan, the institution acknowledges it must maintain a “balanced” perspective when it comes to the physical development of the campus. The University is often compelled to respond quickly and unquestioningly to opportunities for facilities improvements as they emerge. For example, the university did not anticipate the Knight Campus for Accelerating Scientific Impact until Phil and Penny Knight announced their generous support for the project. Funding approvals from the Oregon State Legislature tend to favor larger building projects even though smaller projects might be more desirable. Small projects are still accomplished, but not to the extent originally envisioned by the principle of incremental, piecemeal growth in The Oregon Experiment. 

So, what will the future be for the application of patterns à la The Oregon Experiment? The university is already shifting toward a paradigm that melds conventional campus planning with dispersed decision-making. This paradigm embraces what is historically significant about the UO campus, including the established open space framework (which The Oregon Experiment and its patterns did not expressly do). It retains The Oregon Experiment’s emphasis upon process, but also embodies the distinctive, utopian social visions, and visionary planning characteristic of the most memorable university campuses. 

Besides me and David Edrington (who served as a research assistant in the Office of Campus Planning during the mid-seventies implementation of The Oregon Experiment), Chris’ audience was comprised exclusively of staff from the university’s office of Campus Planning & Facilities Management. I certainly felt privileged to be there. Chris said he invited me because he believed I would find his topic interesting, and he was right. Thanks for thinking of me Chris!

Getting my Hygge On

Photo by John-Mark Smith on Unsplash

I learned a new word this past week—hygge—which is the Danish term for coziness and comfortable conviviality. Apparently, an appreciation for the hygge things in life and applying a stylish flair to the pursuit of everyday happiness is characteristically Danish. Many here in the U.S. would do well to likewise learn how to recognize warmth and comfort in simple things and activities. Living in and acknowledging the moment is something too few of us do well. Those who have taken notice are promoting hygge as a lifestyle trend.

The fact I hadn’t heard of hygge until just now isn’t particularly surprising: Most fads are past their “best by” date by the time I discover them. Case in point: The New York Times pronounced 2016 as “The Year of Hygge,” so here I am a full two years behind the curve. How does this happen? Numerous books, blogs, magazines, TV networks, and more have all extolled the virtues of hygge style, without my notice(1).  
While the popularity of the concept in this country may be fleeting as fashion-mavens look for the next craze, hygge has long been engrained in the Danish way of life and isn’t likely to ever disappear. Hygge places a high value on the sharing of life together, on rituals, and humility. Nordic cultures undoubtedly cultivated hygge because their cold and dark winters brought people close together, so shared experiences were necessarily a part of their lives. The fact the citizens of Denmark are said to be the happiest in the world is in part because hygge is central to their sense of well-being. 

The places we live, work, and play in can foster hygge, which is why the concept intrigues the architect in me. Is there a reason why any of our architecture shouldn’t be hyggelig? Why shouldn’t we strive to design places that are unapologetically pleasant and welcoming, places that make people feel sheltered, safe, and content? It’s human nature to seek comfort and protection, the togetherness of family and the company of good friends. We like snuggling up and getting cozy because it makes us feel good. Hyggelig buildings and places, which I imagine most everyone would instinctively recognize, are ones essentially attuned to human nature. 

The older I get, the more I am learning to appreciate the importance of happiness, living in the moment, and being at peace with my world even as the greater world around all of us becomes increasingly uncomfortable. Those who know me do know how much of a struggle it is for me to slow down and simply relax. I would be well-served to get my hygge on. 

If I can make hygge a part of my life, I will have metaphorically built myself a warm and cozy shelter because I will have learned to enjoy the present more simply and slowly. If I approach design with hygge in mind, I will contribute to architecture that equally helps others be centered, at-home, and comfortable in their surroundings.

(1)  Perhaps it’s because I’ve never been a trend-chaser. No one has ever accused me of being hip, stylish, or fashionable. 

   

CoLA: Review-Overview-Preview

The upcoming November meeting of the AIA-Southwestern Oregon Chapter, which will occur this coming Wednesday, November 28, will feature a presentation by the members of the AIA-SWO Eugene-Springfield Committee on Local Affairs (CoLA), along with special guest Will Dowdy, Urban Development Manager for the City of Eugene. 

The presentation’s objectives will include the following: 

• Building awareness of AIA advocacy at the national, state, and local levels, the mechanisms for each, and the strength of professional associations in advocating for positive outcomes on issues that benefit from the expertise of design professionals.
• Reviewing the adopted AIA federal policy agenda, released earlier this month. The policy agenda includes affordable housing and expanded tax credits, sustainability and tax incentives for retrofits, school safety design, student loan debt forgiveness for architectural graduates, resilience design and disaster response, and tax repeal on foreign entities.
• Reviewing the history and mission of CoLA. The committee’s areas of emphasis have included various issues of local importance to AIA-SWO, and advocacy for positions of common professional interest. 
• Introducing the current members of CoLA, who will be on hand to answer questions and lead the evening’s presentation. 
• Calling for those who may be interested in being a member of CoLA during the coming year. 
• Conducting an overview of selected CoLA issues during 2018. These have included the affordable housing crisis, the work of Better Housing Together (BHT) in moving toward solutions to that crisis, and support for and participation in the community forum BHT hosted; monitoring the River Road corridor planning work and City of Eugene efforts to increase density along that major transit corridor; and support for careful planning in the redesign of the Park Blocks as part of a newly imagined Town Square (including publishing an op-ed piece in The Register-Guard and another here on my blog). 
• Previewing what CoLA plans to focus upon during 2019. 

The meeting will also feature a presentation by Will Dowdy on the subject of the City of Eugene’s proposed Town Square project (Park Blocks, year-round Farmers’ Market, and new City Hall) and how AIA-SWO members may contribute to its design. He’ll report on the status of the current RFQ/RFP selection process, the timeline for key decisions by City Council, and the goals for a proposed peer design review process. 

There will be plenty of time during the chapter meeting for questions and discussion. As one of the current CoLA members, I encourage you to attend and let me and my fellow committee members know your thoughts. We’ve tried to be proactive and visible during 2018. Our hope is to carry our momentum into 2019, bring aboard new blood and energy, and continue to be relevant advocates for design excellence in the service of ensuring the Eugene-Springfield community enjoys a healthy, inclusive, and livable future. 

What:               AIA-Southwestern Oregon November Chapter Meeting 

When:              Wednesday, November 28, 2018; 5:30 – 7:30 PM 

Where:             The Loft at Turtles, 2690 Willamette St, Eugene (enter off 27th Ave) 

Cost:                No meeting charge. Food/beverages at cost from Turtles menu. 

CEU:                (1.00) AIA LU

Thankfulness for Work & Cats

Grizzie

Time spent with cats is never wasted - Sigmund Freud

An architect’s lot in life is inextricably tied to the boom and bust cycles of the construction industry, and in turn those of the broader economy. There’s an overabundance of work to be done right now—we’re definitely at the “boom” end of the busyness spectrum. I sense that most every architectural firm in Oregon has their hands full and more. My office is no exception; we’re as busy as we’ve ever been, and shorthanded to boot. It all adds up: a seemingly endless series of deadlines, constant pressure, and long hours. The toll paid, predictably, is an unhealthy level of stress. 

Don’t get me wrong. I’m unbelievably fortunate to do what I do for a living, and the problems I have are definitely of the First World variety. I’m especially privileged because I’m blessed with a variety of ways for managing the stress in my life. These include being part of Eugene Taiko, cheering on University of Oregon athletics teams, immersing myself in nature, reading, scheduling regular therapeutic massage sessions, blogging, and being happily married. Certainly, another significant and singularly pleasant stress-buster is enjoying the company of our three cats. 

This really was the point of this blog post—I spent most of this weekend at the office, so I had far less time than usual to compose a thoughtful blog entry. What could I write about that wouldn’t tax too many of my brain cells, yet might still pass as topical? The answer was waiting for me at home. I stepped through the door and there they were: our feline companions—Jasper, Luna, and Grizzie—adorably furry, purring stress-busters, who genuinely enjoy (rather than merely tolerate) my company. 

My wife and I don’t have kids, so the kitties are our “children.” They repay the comfort, food, and care we give them many times over with loyalty, unconditional love, and affection. They provide us with a sense of purpose and distract us from our day-to-day problems. 

A significant and welcome byproduct is the health benefit of cat ownership. Medical researchers point to convincing evidence suggesting having cats reduces the risk of having a stroke or heart attack by as much as a third. Simply being around cats can alleviate depression, lower blood pressure, and improve mood. I know Jasper, Luna, and Grizzie help me cope with my job-related stress. I’m grateful for their companionship. Most importantly, I can always count on our cats to give me a reason to laugh and be happy. 

The glass is either half empty or half full. This coming Thursday is Thanksgiving. I’m crazy busy at work right now, but I’m also appreciative of how meaningful my work is and everything else I have in my life. I wish all of you the best as well. 

Happy Thanksgiving!

Lowell Covered Bridge

 

The Lowell Covered Bridge (all photos by me)

Work has been keeping me busier lately than I prefer, but I did set aside a few hours this past weekend to soak in some bright fall sunshine and take a scenic drive through the countryside with my wife. The two of us headed south and east from Eugene along Highway 58 toward Oakridge. In addition to stopping by the Lowell Grange’s annual Holiday Craft Fair (yes, it’s already that time of year), we had to check out the Lowell Covered Bridge.

My wife and I enjoy visiting Lane County’s many historic covered bridges. I wrote a blog post a few years back chronicling our tour of six nearby, well-preserved examples: Centennial, Chambers Railroad, Currin, Dorena, Mosby Creek, and Stewart. The Lowell Covered Bridge is likewise well-maintained, and additionally features a picture-perfect wayside and informative interpretive center. The mirror-smooth surface of the Dexter Reservoir and mountainous backdrop provide postcard-ready views of the bridge. There is an information kiosk outside, and a series of panels along the gangway leading to the west end of the bridge documenting a timeline of Oregon's covered bridges. Within the bridge, additional information panels further document the history of the Lowell Covered Bridge.

Interpretive panels inside the bridge.

The interpretive displays describe the construction of the Lowell Bridge and identify its builders. There's also a detailed scale model (built by history buff John McWade), which includes sections cut away to reveal the structure concealed inside. 

The following are excerpts from the displays:

Oregon’s Covered Bridges

Oregon’s covered bridge building tradition dates back to the 1850’s, and lasted well into the 20^th century, long after these rustic structures were relics elsewhere. By 1925, there were approximately 450 covered bridges along Oregon’s highways and county roads, and the state’s highway department supplied covered bridge designs to local agencies until the 1950s. Currently, Oregon has more than 50 publicly accessible covered bridges, 45 of which are historic truss-type bridges. Today, new vehicular covered bridges area generally built to replace existing older covered bridges—thus ending a grand era.

Lane County was one of the most prolific bridge-building counties in Oregon, and today it has more covered bridges than any other county, sixteen of which are on the National Register of Historic Places.

History

At the turn of the 20^th century, wagonloads of settlers and supplies traveling along the Oregon Central Military Wagon Road stopped here to board Amos D. Hyland’s ferry to cross the Willamette River. As more and more settlers traveled the route, locals petitioned for a bridge to bypass Hyland’s expensive ferry. In 1907, Lane County officials hired Oregon bridge builder “Nels” Roney to construct a covered bridge.

Trained under A.S. Miller, Nels Roney utilized his carpentry skills and learned the art of Covered Bridges. After a near-fatal accident, he retired for a time, but later returned as a foreman. Roney eventually started his own business and constructed nearly 100 covered bridges throughout Oregon and California—including the 1907 Lowell Covered Bridge.

The original Lowell Bridge lasted over 30 years, until increased wear and damage from truck traffic prompted replacement. The old bridge was replaced in 1945 with a new bridge built by Lance County bridge foreman Walt Sorensen. It was covered two years later. The bridge’s size (a 165-foot span and 24-foot width) was designed the heavy logging-truck traffic of that era. Wood used to construct the bridge likely came from the nearby Willamette National Forest. Longtime area residents remember the days when trucks waited in line, three or four at a time, to haul their loads of Douglas-fir through the bridge toward Springfield.

Brothers Miller and Walt Sorensen were prolific Lane County bridge builders from the 1920s to the 1960s. Between them, they were responsible for the construction of 16 covered bridges. One or both of the brothers built or re-built many Lane County bridges.

In 1953, the Army Corps of Engineers was finishing construction of Dexter Dam, just downstream of the Lowell Bridge. When complete, the dam would create a reservoir that would threaten the bridge. Guided by engineers, Walt Sorensen supervised the raising of the bridge seven feet. Their calculations proved accurate, and the reservoir has never risen closer than two feet from the bottom of the bridge.

Immense Douglas fir members are the components for the two Howe trusses supporting the span.

Construction

Why is a covered bridge covered? The house of a covered bridge was originally designed to protect the bridge timbers from weather and thus extend its life. 

The truss is the bridge’s “backbone”—the primary structural component of a covered bridge. Truss designs were patentable, and bridge building firms owned licenses to use patented truss designs—sometimes paying handsome royalties by the foot. The original 1907 Lowell Bridge used a Howe Truss, as does the now-rehabilitated 1945 bridge that replaced it.

Covered bridge architecture is simple and functional. Concerns over light and visibility along the inside passage inspired designers to incorporate distinctively shaped windows to fit in the spaces between the trusses. The bridge designers’ creative efforts also affected the design of the bridge portals; a close study will discern subtle differences in style.

Bridge Maintenance

Covered bridges, like the Lowell Covered Bridge, must be maintained to protect their timbers and keep them functional. The green wood of the truss members and decking shrinks with age, and the abutment timbers shift and settle. Wind, ice, and water scour the siding and shingles. These problems, coupled with damage from high waters, vandals, constant traffic, and heavy loads can weaken the bridge. The result is broken or irreparably damaged members that must be replaced.

  

Valued by the foot.

*    *    *    *    *    *

As I stated in my previous blog post, I find the absolute lack of pretense, and the clear, unadorned, and unaffected forms of Lane County’s covered bridges tremendously appealing. We’re fortunate we still have these vestiges of a simpler time with us to visit and enjoy.

If you’d like to see the Lowell Covered Bridge, travel south from Eugene on Interstate 5, and then take Highway 58 east to Lowell. Lowell is on the south side of Dexter Lake. The bridge is impossible to miss from the highway, where it serves as a prominent gateway to the town.

Portland Building Redux

Portland Building renovation in progress (photo courtesy of Carla Weinheimer, DLR Group)

It was only a few years ago that the fate of the Portland Building was in question. Primarily due to problems associated with its shoddy and cheap original construction, the City of Portland seriously contemplated razing the structure or otherwise disposing of it as surplus property after little more than 35 short years of life. I contributed to the debate then by advocating for its preservation on the grounds that it held historic significance as the first large-scale example of Postmodern architecture in the country. Notwithstanding what I and many others regarded as its “superficial and inelegant design . . . ill-proportioned and lacking in scale,” the fact is the Portland Building has become an iconic and inextricable part of Portland’s quirky charm. Additionally, in 2011 the design by the late Michael Graves was listed on the National Register of Historic Places in recognition of its significance to the history of architecture. 

By 2015, Portland city councilors chose to move forward with a $195 million plan to reconstruct the Portland Building, its role as the civic government’s primary administrative office space thus being assured. In July of 2017, Portland’s Historic Landmarks Commission also voted to accept what proved to be a controversial renovation plan for the building. Strict preservationists had objected to the significant physical changes deemed necessary by the progressive design-build team led by the Portland office of architects DLR Group and construction manager Howard S. Wright. The plans include over-cladding with a new rainscreen enclosure, replacement of the original dark-tinted windows with clear glass, partial infilling of the street level loggias, repurposing of the underground vehicular parking with new uses, and a complete renovation of the tower’s interiors to provide brighter, more attractive spaces for the 1,700 city employees who will return to work there. 

Despite deeming the extent of the proposed renovation an “extreme measure,” the City’s Landmarks Commission recognized traditional methods of preservation or restoration would not adequately solve the chronic water infiltration and environmental quality issues afflicting the building. Additionally, the Commission cited the National Register of Historic Places’ listing of the project in 2011 primarily for its unique and groundbreaking design, articulated with color, symbolism, and decoration, rather than for the specifics of its construction. The Landmarks Commission acknowledged that while DLR’s solution will permanently alter the original materials of the Portland Building, the integrity of the overall design will remain. 

I’m likewise confident the completed project will be true to the essence of the original design. I actually believe the application of new materials will enhance its integrity and come closer in some respects to Michael Graves’ original aesthetic intentions. As I mentioned previously, Graves lamented the inadequacy of the project’s construction budget and how it forced his firm to make some painful design compromises. DLR’s senior associate in charge of the renovation’s design, Carla Weinheimer(1), AIA, DBIA, told me the members of Grave’s former office support the proposed modifications, believing their founder would have recommended similar improvements. 

There’s no doubt that when completed the Portland Building will not be the same. It will look different to many who may have not visited it since before its refurbishment, but they might have a hard time putting a finger on why it is seems so. When the reconstruction is done in 2020, the Portland Building will be a much-improved place to visit and work, absolutely weathertight, more energy efficient, and better able to resist seismic events. I’m looking forward to seeing it then and deciding for myself whether the changes to the building’s appearance have too dramatically altered its character. 

Rendering by DLR of the finished project.

A fundamental shortcoming of doctrinaire historic preservation is its inflexibility. Successful buildings are living things that evolve and adapt over time. Increased flexibility in preservation practices would allow for individual solutions—varying from case to case—that account for current needs while preserving cultural heritage. Despite the preservationists concerns about how much the planned changes would alter the Portland Building’s appearance, I think the Landmarks Commission exercised common sense and correctly assessed the nature of the challenges DLR confronted in the development of its design solution. 

A century from now, I expect the Portland Building will be standing, cherished and protected by generations of future Portlanders for the same idiosyncrasies that once drew scorn from legions of detractors. The recent controversies surrounding its fate will have been forgotten or judged a trivial footnote. What’s important is that the evocative design will still be there, contributing to the textured and meaningful layering of downtown Portland.

(1)  I presently enjoy the pleasure of collaborating with Carla on a scoping study for the proposed new Lane County Courthouse in Eugene. DLR and my firm, Robertson/Sherwood/Architects are working together on the study, with Carla and I serving as project managers for our respective firms.

Architecture is Awesome #17: The Golden Ratio

The Parthenon 

This is another in my series of posts inspired by 1000 Awesome Things, the Webby Award winning blog written by Neil Pasricha. The series is my meditation on the awesome reasons why I was and continue to be attracted to the art of architecture. 

Throughout history, whether knowingly or not, many architects have assigned aesthetically pleasing mathematical proportions to the buildings they designed that come close to what is widely known as the “Golden Ratio.” The approximate value of the Golden Ratio is 1 to 1.618. It is an irrational number often symbolized by the Greek letter “phi” ( Φ, φ ) and can be expressed by this formula: 

It was Euclid who, more than two thousand years ago, first identified the peculiar properties of the Golden Ratio (also referred to as the “Golden Section,” the “Golden Mean,” or the “Divine Proportion”). Many since Euclid have observed that people find both natural and manmade objects displaying dimensional relationships consistent with Golden Ratio to be well-proportioned, and thus most attractive. The ideal ratio is a match of the proportion between the parts and the parts to the whole. 

The Golden Ratio is closely related to the Fibonacci Sequence, which is a recursive formula wherein each successive generation of numbers is defined in terms of the previous two generations. The proportions of consecutive generations increasingly approach a fixed limiting value of 1.6180339887 . . . the Golden Ratio. 

The ratio is often expressed graphically and mathematically as a visually satisfying rectangle that can be split into a square and a smaller rectangle possessing the same aspect ratio as the rectangle it was cut away from. Infinitely repeating this process results in recursive generation of self-similar rectangles all displaying identical proportions. 

This Wikipedia and Wikimedia Commons image is from the user Chris 73 and is freely available at //commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:NautilusCutawayLogarithmicSpiral.jpg under the creative commons cc-by-sa 3.0 license 

The fact we find the proportion so frequently in the natural world at all scales (from the subatomic to the cosmic) is positively mind-blowing. We can see it in the pattern of seeds in the head of a sunflower, the spiraling chambers of a nautilus shell, and the formations of hurricanes and galaxies. Some claim our conceptions of human beauty are founded upon the natural occurrences of symmetries and the Golden Ratio in the dimensional relationships between one’s eyes, nose, mouth, etc. We may be primed to like physical characteristics that adhere to the Golden Ratio because it serves as a marker of reproductive fitness and health. 

The west facade of the Cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris exhibits proportioning in accordance with the Golden Mean (photo by Peter Haas CC BY-SA 3.0 licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license).

Many famous works of architecture clearly exhibit compositions utilizing approximations of the Golden Ratio in plan, section, and elevation. The Parthenon is an oft-cited (if imperfect) example. So too are many of the works of the Renaissance architect Leon Battista Alberti and his contemporaries. Le Corbusier based his Modulor proportional system upon the Golden Ratio, the 1927 Villa Stein and his later Unite’ d’habitation projects perhaps being among the most notable and obvious examples of its application. 

Le Corbusier's Modulor inscribed on the wall of the Unite’ d’habitation in Berlin (photo by Jean-Pierre Dalbéra from Paris, France (Corbusierhaus (Berlin)) [CC BY 2.0  (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons) 

The physicist Max Tegmark posits we live in a relational reality, in the sense that the properties of the world around us stem not from properties of its ultimate building blocks, but from the numerical bonds between them. He says our physical world is effectively one giant mathematical object. It is the relationship between numbers—especially seemingly magical ones like the Golden Ratio—and the nature of reality that has fascinated and inspired architects ever since the time of the Ancient Greeks. 

Growing up, dealing with numbers was never my strong suit. I was a middling student at best when it came to math; nevertheless, the idea that everything in our existence is somehow mathematical fascinates me today. As an architect I try to make sense of what it all means to the work I’m engaged in. Like Max Tegmark, I’m convinced there’s more to it all, something undeniably extraordinary and useful to the design of our built world. At the most essential level, proportional systems like the Golden Ratio hint at the astonishing, amazing, and AWESOME beauty inherent in our mathematical universe. 

Next Architecture is Awesome: #18 Evanescent Ruins