Project 2025

SketchUp model of our house. I'll use the model to help explain the scope of our planned renovation to a prospective contractor. 

No, not that Project 2025. Instead, I’m referring to my own Project 2025, which is to buckle down in the new year and finally attend to sorely needed home improvements. Because I am now retired, I’ve run out of excuses. The list of maintenance needs I’ve deferred for far too many years is embarrassingly long. 

My wife Lynne and I purchased our house in 1989. Like many young couples at the time, we expected the little 3-bed, 1-bath rambler to be our “starter” home, eventually trading up as our needs grew. Fast-forward 35 years and here we still are. We chose not to have children, so that impetus to pursue a bigger residence never arose. Our lifestyle has always been very modest. We seldom have guests over, obviating any requirement for generous entertainment space. We don’t have so much stuff that we’re bursting at the seams. At some point it became clear to us it would be our “forever” home. It remains perfectly adequate to meet our foreseeable needs. 

Most would charitably describe our house as bland and characterless, one of the countless nondescript post-war tract homes built during the early 1950s on what was then the south edge of a rapidly growing Eugene. While undeniably plain and simple, it does have its charms, specifically the elements of its original interior décor that remain. These include the pink and black tile in our bathroom, the metal-trimmed Formica countertops, custom built-in shelving, its brick fireplace, and vintage light fixtures. Lynne wishes to see any renovation we undertake not erase these mid-century features or at least replicate them. 

So, it’s a light touch that we’ll apply to our improvements, architecturally speaking. No grand makeover is in the cards. That said, there are many significant fixes desperately requiring our attention, first and foremost being repairs to our one and only bathroom. The bathtub and shower plumbing are shot, which will necessitate tearing open the wet wall and entirely replacing the controls and piping. On other fronts, the gutters and downspouts need replacing, as does our kitchen flooring. I fear we have some dry rot and carpenter ant damage to address at the roof eaves. And the metal roof over our back deck requires repair and the deck itself needs refinishing. For safety and reliability reasons, we are also considering modernizing and increasing the capacity of our obsolete electrical system. 

Future-proofing our home is another goal. We intend to age in place, so including provisions now to make this possible is sensible. It helps that our house only occupies one level. We can add grab bars during our bathroom renovation, replace our traditional faucets with lever-style types, and plan for the eventual installation of ramps to complement the stairs at our front and back entrances. 

Our front and back yards are also in desperate need of some TLC. What exactly we will do is an open question. One thing for certain is figuring out why so many of our old shrubs and bushes are dying recently. I suspect poor drainage may be one issue. Poor soil quality or diseases may be others. 

Will we undertake the work ourselves? Mostly, no. I’m no handyman, nor am I a contractor. I will be happy to hire professionals to do the job right. Lynne is not looking forward to the disruption the project will cause. My plan is to work with our contractor(s) so that we can limit the time we need to be away, taking advantage of that opportunity to go on a special trip somewhere. 

Perspective plan view of our house.

It might seem unusual to some, given my professional background, that I am not interested in a more architecturally ambitious renovation. Why shouldn’t I view refreshing our home as an opportunity to stretch my design muscles? After all, many architects have done so themselves, sometimes with enviably impressive results. Cost is not the issue, nor is any lack of confidence in my abilities. The reason is two-fold: 1) Lynne likes our house exactly as it is, and indeed it has provided us with all we have asked of it; and 2) I want to avoid paralysis by over analysis. Designing a renovation for our own home would undoubtedly lead to overthinking and perfectionism. It’s already bad enough that I’ve kicked the can down the road this far. 

By tackling our very personal Project 2025, we’re going to ensure that our humble abode remains comfortable and functional for years to come. The end result will be worth it, even if it won’t be an architectural marvel. The improvements will extend our home’s useful life while enhancing ours. I simply have to remind myself of this and set aside the associated anticipation and trepidation. My New Year’s resolution is to stop procrastinating and just do it. 

Here's to a productive 2025. I wish all of you a Happy New Year ahead!

Yes In My Backyard

College Hill Cottages by Cultivate, Inc. (rendering from the firm's website).

Oregon's missing middle housing mandate and its implementation in Eugene are pivotal steps toward addressing our housing crisis. By increasing affordable options and fostering inclusivity, we can build a community that reflects our values while dispelling myths about how these changes will impact our neighborhoods.

I’m an advocate for the introduction of middle housing types throughout Eugene. For a variety of reasons, I view these types—ADUs, duplexes, triplexes, fourplexes, townhouses, cottage clusters, and live-work developments—to be viable models for rethinking the way we design, locate, regulate, and develop homes. And yes, this means introducing them within environs historically zoned for single-family homes. If you must, call me a YIMBY. I embrace that label, but not because I favor unchecked development. Instead, I support thoughtful, well-integrated solutions that address our housing crisis while respecting Eugene’s unique neighborhoods. 

Increasing the supply and diversity of housing, providing types that meet the needs of more residents, is necessary if Eugene is to remain an economically vibrant and desirable place to live and work. The scarcity of housing has driven rents and home prices to untenable heights, making it clear that our existing zoning system isn’t serving everyone. Expanding housing choices is a logical and necessary step toward affordability. To its credit, the Oregon Legislature recognized this when it passed House Bill 2001 in 2019—notably, with bipartisan support. The bill required updates of local rules that have limited the types of housing that can be built within areas zoned for single-family dwellings. 

Diversifying housing options means more people can live closer to work, school, and services, fostering communities where people from varied backgrounds can thrive together. Welcoming middle housing reflects the values of inclusion and fairness that should guide Eugene’s growth. 

Critics fear middle housing will result in gentrification, but this oversimplifies the issue. In high-value areas, adding supply can stabilize prices and expand access. Policies like inclusionary zoning and tenant protections can further minimize displacement while maximizing affordability. 

Concerns about changing the character of our neighborhoods are also common but often unfounded. The City of Eugene has implemented design standards (EC 9.5550) to help ensure that new developments integrate with existing surroundings. And many middle housing types, such as duplexes or bungalow courts, are already part of Eugene’s architectural heritage. In this regard, missing middle types are not a departure from our past but a continuation of it. 

Several recent projects are examples that revitalize that tradition while adapting to modern needs. These include the Lucia Townhouses and the Skyview Houses in the Friendly neighborhood (both designed by Studio.E Architecture), the College Hill Cottages (designed by Cultivate), and the 4 Oaks Grange Cottage Cluster (by Aligned Architecture). Granted, the Lucia Townhouses occupy property originally zoned as C-1 Neighborhood Commercial rather than R-1, but as part of the Friendly Garden Food Court development, the project demonstrates its compatibility with the surrounding single-family residences. These examples, and more on the boards, showcase how increased density can coexist with livability and aesthetic appeal. 

Lucia Townhouses, by Studio.E Architecture (photo from the firm's website).

4 Oaks Grange Cottage Cluster, by Aligned Architecture (photo from the firm's website).

Does the insertion of denser housing types within established residential areas exacerbate parking concerns? Will this be even more of an issue considering the elimination of minimum off-street parking requirements? Perhaps. That said, it is increasingly probable that many residents in middle housing developments will be those who have chosen to not own cars, particularly in areas near transit corridors where public transportation, biking, and walking are more accessible options. Evidence from other cities shows that middle housing doesn’t always lead to proportional increases in car ownership. Portland and Minneapolis are cases in point, having demonstrated how eliminating parking mandates can encourage alternative transportation options without significant harm to neighborhood parking availability. 

Parking management strategies such as residential permit programs can prioritize long-term residents' access to curbside spaces, while time-limited or priced parking can discourage non-residents from monopolizing neighborhood parking. Developers, though no longer required to provide off-street parking in designated areas and for certain types of development, often include some parking to meet market demand. This flexibility allows for thoughtful design tailored to the specific needs of new developments. 

Higher-density housing within the urban growth boundary helps reduce car dependency, cuts greenhouse gas emissions, and preserves the natural landscapes and agricultural lands around us. These housing forms make more efficient use of land and infrastructure, supporting our broader efforts to combat climate change. Smaller footprints and the potential for energy-efficient designs make middle housing a practical and sustainable choice for Eugene’s future. 

As I wrote back in 2018, leaving our comfort zone may be unsettling, but we’ll need to if we and our community are to adapt and thrive. Resistance to the introduction of new and creative housing solutions responsive to our changing demographics and marketplace is symptomatic of our fear of change, but we ignore it at our own peril. If Eugene is unsuccessful, more progressive cities will profit from our intransigence when it comes to diversifying our housing stock. Cities exist within a competitive landscape, and it’s a zero-sum game: their gain is our loss when it comes to competing for talent, investment, and businesses. 

Ultimately, we’re talking about more than housing—everyone should support building a stronger, more resilient community as Eugene continues to grow. More residents nearby mean more customers for local businesses and services, better support for public transportation, and richer social networks that come from closer connections. By welcoming new neighbors, we’re not only addressing a housing crisis; we’re helping our city be the best it can be. This is what being a YIMBY means. 

Change can be challenging, and the road to implementing middle housing in Eugene has been long and contentious.(1) But this journey reflects our resilience and commitment to doing what’s right. Missing middle housing isn’t something to fear; it’s a chance to grow responsibly and inclusively. Let’s embrace this opportunity to make Eugene a place where everyone—no matter their income or background—can find not just a house, but a home. 

(1)    Oregon’s House Bill 2001 mandated middle housing in single-family zones across large cities, including Eugene. The Eugene City Council first adopted the Middle Housing Code Amendments in May 2022. Although the ordinance initially went into effect in July 2022, it faced legal challenges that resulted in a remand by the Oregon Court of Appeals in October 2023. The court’s decision highlighted technical issues related to compliance with public facilities and services standards, prompting the city to adopt a revised ordinance in March 2024. 

Despite further challenges and another remand by the Land Use Board of Appeals (LUBA) in July 2024, the City Council finally approved Ordinance 20716 on November 25. It incorporates lessons from the previous legal decisions while ensuring compliance with state requirements. The ordinance will become effective on January 2, 2025. To say the legal and procedural journey to this point has been complex is an understatement.

Architecture is Awesome: #38 Seeing Stonework Sparkle Like New

Inside the nave of the reconstructed Notre-Dame de Paris (photo by Quirinale.it, Attribution, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=156416099)

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. 

There’s something magical about seeing a place you thought you knew suddenly transformed. It’s like meeting an old friend who shows up glowing with joy—still the same, but somehow more alive.  

That was my reaction upon seeing photos of the newly restored Notre-Dame de Paris. After five years of painstaking work following the devastating 2019 fire, the iconic cathedral has reopened, brighter and cleaner than it’s been in centuries or perhaps than it’s ever been. What a difference.  

I visited Notre-Dame in 1979, stepping inside on a gray, blustery All Saints’ Day. The interior was dim, shadowy, and cloaked in centuries of mystery. Candlelight flickered on soot-darkened walls. It was hauntingly beautiful, in the way only something so old can be.  

Now? Notre-Dame absolutely sparkles in photographs. Workers meticulously cleaned its stonework, revealing the original limestone as it once was. The stained glass certainly appears brighter and more vivid than I remember. It’s as if someone pushed the “restore to factory settings” button, removing layers of lampblack to unveil the cathedral as its original builders envisioned it. The result is a reminder that restoration isn’t about erasing history but rather about revealing it.  

Some people aren’t so thrilled. They say Notre-Dame has lost its character, that the dim, dusty gloom was part of its soul. I get it. That aged patina was steeped in history, a connection to centuries of pilgrimage and prayers. On the other hand, Gothic cathedrals were meant to dazzle. Their architecture was about light, color, and lifting medieval spirits skyward.  

How I remember the nave appearing, before the fire (photo by Willtron, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=351596)

If I am fortunate enough to visit Paris again, I expect entering the restored Notre-Dame will feel dreamlike. Relying solely on the pictures that have been circulated widely, the soaring vaults seem even taller now. The bright LED lighting—the target of much of the criticism from detractors—makes the stone appear luminous. The intricate carvings pop against the gleaming masonry.  

The sleek, contemporary design of the new altar by Guillaume Bardet has also raised some eyebrows. But to me, it’s a sign that Notre-Dame isn’t just a relic of the past. It is very much alive, growing, evolving—a bridge between what was and what can be.  

Inside Notre-Dame, the weight of time is palpable—and for those who believe, so is the hope of renewal. The space has seen war, revolution, and fire, yet the cathedral still stands, a testament to all those who invested immense efforts in maintaining or repairing it over the centuries. Notre-Dame is a magnificent monument to the human spirit, one everyone agrees was worthy of the most reverent restoration possible.  

Seeing something ancient shine like new? That’s AWESOME. 

Next Architecture is Awesome: #39 The Comfort of a Corner

  

Homogenized Glory

Lucas Oil Stadium (photo by SounderBruce, CC BY-SA 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0>, via Wikimedia Commons)

As I write this, the University of Oregon Ducks football squad is the number one-ranked team in the land, the prospect of a national championship squarely in its sights. They’re one step closer to this goal, as the Ducks vanquished the Penn State Nittany Lions yesterday evening to capture the 2024 Big Ten Conference Championship. As an unwavering Oregon fan, I’m ecstatic. And yet, my exhilaration is tempered by structural changes across the college football landscape, of which the venue for the Big Ten Championship game—Lucas Oil Stadium, home field of the Indianapolis Colts of the National Football League—is symptomatic. 

Modern NFL stadiums, while architecturally impressive, often feel "sterile" as venues for college football conference championships. This sterility stems from their hyper-engineered environments, prioritizing luxury and versatility over the intimate, idiosyncratic qualities that define college football traditions. Architecturally, their sleek, uniform designs and controlled atmospheres lack the contextual character of on-campus stadiums, which are deeply tied to collegiate identity. 

The newest NFL stadiums excel at accommodating large crowds and delivering innovative amenities, but I believe this very efficiency dilutes the distinct, emotional connection fans have with their teams. Their expansive, cavernous interiors, and retractable roofs neutralize the raw energy and unpredictability of outdoor games, a hallmark of college football. Iconic collegiate venues resonate because they are imperfect yet authentic, with quirks that evoke history and rivalry. 

While pro stadiums offer a polished stage for grand events, their neutrality homogenizes the college football experience, making it feel more like a spectacle than a tradition. For college football fans, who value legacy and connection, the architectural identity of the venue plays a crucial role in shaping the intensity and nostalgia that make the sport unique. 

Favoring modern NFL stadiums as host sites for college football championships or playoff games (1) mirrors broader cultural shifts in the sport, driven by conference realignment, N.I.L. and the transfer portal. These architectural and systemic changes together dilute the tradition and intimacy many older fans treasure. The increased professionalization of college football through N.I.L. and the transfer portal fosters a more transactional, less enduring sense of team culture, eroding the long-term relationships between players, schools, and fans that once defined the sport. Fans accustomed to grassroots traditions now experience a landscape where player movement and monetization align more with professional sports than collegiate ideals. The architectural sterility of the NFL venues amplifies this sense of loss, symbolizing the shift from community-driven tradition to a market-driven spectacle. 

For old-timers like me, these changes highlight a departure from the deeply personal and regional essence of college football, transforming it into a polished but impersonal product. It’s a different game—shiny and exciting but often bereft of the quirks and stories that drew me to the sport in the first place. 

(1)  The first round of the 12-team playoff games will occur at the home field of the higher-seeded team in each matchup. The Ducks—who will enjoy a bye and not have to play in the first round—will appear in the quarterfinals at the Rose Bowl in Pasadena on January 1st, a classic bowl site. Thankfully, the “Granddaddy of Them All” remains a prestigious vestige of college football’s traditions.

Architect Emeritus

 

Photo by Patrick Hendry on Unsplash.

 
Come January I will no longer be eligible to actively practice architecture as I will have relinquished my professional registration. In keeping with OAR 806-010-0075 this means I will not be able to offer services related to the planning, designing, or observing of the erection, enlargement, or alteration of any building or of any appurtenance thereto other than exempted buildings. And in accordance with ORS 671.020 I won’t be able to use the title of “Architect” or any title, sign, cards, or device indicating, or tending to indicate that I am practicing architecture or continue to be an architect.
 
While this change will mark the official end of my professional career in architecture, I will be able to retain formal recognition of my contributions to the field. In Oregon, the title “Architect Emeritus” is available for eligible retired architects. The benefits of the Emeritus status include being allowed to keep a professional title without the responsibilities of active practice. It also simplifies the process of returning to active practice in the future if I wanted (unlikely, but it is nice the option for reinstatement is there for me).
 
To qualify for Emeritus status, an architect must be at least 60 years old and have practiced architecture in a recognized jurisdiction for a minimum of 20 years. Additionally, they must have held an Oregon certificate of registration as an individual architect for at least 10 consecutive years. Because I am 65 years old and have practiced architecture for 39 years— the last 35 of them in Oregon—I easily fulfill these requirements.
 
The application process involved submitting a complete application to the Oregon State Board of Architect Examiners (OSBAE) and obtaining written approval, which I have received. Notably, there are no fees associated with obtaining or maintaining Emeritus status.
 
The American Institute of Architects likewise offers complimentary Emeritus membership status to its retired members. The requirements for AIA Member Emeritus status include a minimum of 25 years of membership in the institute, being retired (no longer signing or sealing architectural drawings, marketing services as an architect, and refraining from establishing a firm or business name that implies a continuation of architectural practice) and being 70 years of age or older. Since I’m only 65, I applied for a waiver of the age requirement, which the AIA approved. I can now use the title of “AIA Member Emeritus” in my correspondence and will continue to enjoy the full suite of AIA benefits. These benefits include member discounts for attendance at AIA-sponsored events, the AIA member newsletter, and various AIA-affiliated consumer and trade discounts.
 
The transition to Emeritus status feels like both an end and a beginning. To further acknowledge my transition from licensed practitioner to retiree, I have changed the name of this blogsite to SW Oregon Architect Emeritus. With this move, I promise to explore new ways to engage the built environment, not as a practitioner but as an observer and advocate. Whether visiting architectural landmarks, contemplating the future of design, or enjoying simpler pursuits, I will continue to share my insights and discoveries along the way.
 
Thanks as always for joining me on this journey—I’m excited to see where it leads.