Reimagining the PeaceHealth University District Campus

 

Bird's eye view of the PeaceHealth University District campus from the east looking west. Alder Street is in the foreground, 13th Avenue bounds the south side of the campus, 11th Avenue is on the north side, and Patterson Street is on the west. (Google Maps)

PeaceHealth's recent announcement to sell, lease, or redevelop its University District campus presents a significant opportunity for Eugene. This 12.5-acre property, with its mix of hospital buildings, medical offices, parking garages, and open land, offers immense potential to advance the city's goals for its urban future, including the provision of much-needed housing. 

Before PeaceHealth expanded the University District campus in the 1980s, I remember the stretch of 13th Avenue between Patterson Street and Alder Street being a small-scale and charming precinct. The area featured assorted local businesses. A favorite of mine was Poppi's restaurant, which was well-liked as much for its cozy atmosphere as it was for its flavorful Greek cuisine. Poppi’s was part of a vibrant community composed of eclectic shops and niche dining experiences, one that we lost with the expansion of the hospital and parking structures.(1)

PeaceHealth intends to retain all existing clinics in their current locations during and after the sale of the University District campus. Long-term, PeaceHealth is exploring alternate locations for all remaining UD services; however, in the coming year, clinics and services will remain open in their current locations. Notably, PeaceHealth has stipulated that any redevelopment must retain the inpatient behavioral health facility as a tenant. 

The University of Oregon has already opted out of any direct involvement in the future of the site. While the university's decision may disappoint some, it opens the door for a broader range of possibilities. PeaceHealth notified Bushnell University about the sale and will connect them with the broker team (Jones Lang LaSalle) and potential future developers. Bushnell University currently leases space on the University District campus for its nursing program; this space includes clinical labs, classrooms, and faculty offices. While there hasn't been a formal announcement of interest from Bushnell, their existing presence on the campus could lead to potential collaboration or expansion. 

A mixed-use development would offer undeniable benefits. Such a solution is an admittedly predictable response; nevertheless, a mixed-use plan makes eminent sense and would help ensure a locally focused, walkable environment. The site is already rated a “Walker’s Paradise” with a Walk Score of 91 but imagine a streetscape that seamlessly ties together the university and the adjacent West University neighborhood. There’s no reason why the future redevelopment of the PeaceHealth University District site should not improve on this already laudable rating.(2) 

The campus is zoned under a mix of Eugene’s C-2 (Community Commercial) and C-3 (Major Commercial) building codes. These zoning designations allow for large-scale projects, including housing, retail, and more. The potential density of the redevelopment could be substantial, with the possibility of accommodating a significant number of residential units, commercial spaces, and community amenities. Given the scale and impact of this redevelopment, it would undoubtedly be classified as a "major" project and require a formal Site Review. This review process would trigger extensive regulatory scrutiny and public involvement to ensure the project aligns with community goals and regulatory requirements. 

Though of relatively recent vintage, the main hospital building at 1255 Hilyard Street may end up being demolished. If a prospective developer chooses to retain it, adaptive reuse will present significant challenges. The geometry and depth of the floor plates make conversion to residential units difficult, and the current market for office space in Eugene is soft, with high vacancy rates and relatively low demand. Therefore, while adaptive reuse is a sustainable approach, it may not be the most practical or attractive option for developers. 

Reflecting on the past vibrancy of 13th Avenue underscores the potential for the future redevelopment to restore and enhance a sense of community. When considering the scale of this redevelopment, it's worth discussing how it might be executed. Should a single developer manage the entire project, or should it be built out incrementally? A single developer can ensure a cohesive vision and streamlined execution, leading to a more unified aesthetic and functional design, potentially reducing conflicts and inefficiencies that might arise from multiple stakeholders. However, large-scale projects managed by a single developer can sometimes lack the organic feel and adaptability that smaller, incremental developments offer. There's also the risk of creating a monolithic environment that may not fully integrate with the existing urban fabric. 

Incremental development, as advocated by Christopher Alexander and his associates in their book A New Theory of Urban Design, promotes organic growth and adaptability. This approach allows the project to evolve in response to local needs and market conditions, fostering a sense of community and belonging. Each phase of development can enhance its surroundings, creating a more harmonious and sustainable urban environment. However, managing incremental development can be complex, requiring coordination among various developers and stakeholders. It may also take longer to realize the full potential of the site, which could delay the benefits of the redevelopment. 

Alexander's principles emphasize the importance of piecemeal growth in the creation of larger wholes. Each new project should adapt to and enhance its surroundings, contributing to a continuous structure of interconnected spaces. This approach can lead to a rich and cohesive urban area, reminiscent of neighborhoods that developed organically over time. 

A hybrid strategy might be the most effective. Combining the cohesive vision of a single developer with the adaptability and organic growth of incremental development allows for a unified vision while remaining flexible enough to adapt to changing needs and conditions. Practically, this could involve a master plan developed by a single entity, with phased implementation allowing for adjustments based on market conditions and community feedback. Done right, the PeaceHealth University District Campus could become a thriving hub that benefits all of Eugene by virtue of its density, walkability, and mix of uses. 

Rendering of Mirvish Village, a proposed mixed-use development in Toronto, Canada. The project will include market-rate and affordable rental housing, offices, retail, and public spaces, featuring fine-grained details at ground level and narrow towers as high as 26 stories above (Westbank Corp is the developer; Henriquez Partners are the architects). 

To visualize this, imagine a development where residential units sit above ground-floor retail spaces, creating a lively streetscape. The mix of uses could include apartments, condominiums, and townhouses, catering to a diverse population beyond just the student demographic, which is already being served by various recent and proposed apartment buildings. Retail spaces might host local businesses, cafes, and restaurants, fostering a sense of community. A small supermarket would provide convenient access to daily necessities, while a hotel could accommodate visitors and boost local tourism. 

What about the existing parking structures? It makes sense to retain them. Doing so would largely satisfy the parking needs of the development, reducing any demand for additional parking facilities and allowing more space to be dedicated to pedestrian-friendly areas. Admittedly, in this regard, the parking structure that fronts Patterson Street poses a dilemma, but that may be excusable if the remainder of the development punches above its weight on the walkability scale. 

Ideally, strolling through the redevelopment—particularly along both 13th Avenue and Alder Street—would be visually engaging. Unique buildings, public art, and active street fronts should reward pedestrians. In my view, the redevelopment should additionally include a significant, coherent, and well-shaped urban space—such as a plaza or courtyard—a place for people to gather, relax, enjoy a street performance, and watch passersby. Alternatively, this space might be more parklike, with seating areas, playgrounds, and green spaces for relaxation. The overarching goal would be to enhance the social fabric of the neighborhood. 

By integrating these elements, the redevelopment of the PeaceHealth University District Campus could be the kind of vibrant, sustainable, and connected urban environment planners dream of. This project represents a unique opportunity to thoughtfully foster a sense of place and community that would resonate for generations to come. Including a range of housing types—certainly affordable units among them—would ensure inclusivity and meet diverse community needs. Time will tell if this vision can be fully realized. I'm interested to see how the redevelopment will unfold and whether it will meet our high hopes and expectations. 

(1)  Poppi's (now Poppi's Anatolia) relocated to 992 Willamette Street in 1988 to make way for expansion of the PeaceHealth (Sacred Heart) University District campus.

(2)  The Walk Score of 91, means daily errands do not require a car. The transit score is 56 (nearby public transportation options are available), while the bike score is a perfect 100. Overall, the location is already within the most walkable neighborhood in Eugene.

Victoria, B.C.

 

The Fairmont Empress Hotel, Victoria, B.C. (photo by Dllu, CC BY-SA 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0>, via Wikimedia Commons)

 
Just a brief entry this week: I’m in Victoria, the capital city of British Columbia, Canada. A smallish city (population 91,867), Victoria nonetheless presents a rich architectural and urban fabric shaped by its layered histories. Its built environment reflects colonial ambitions, regional adaptation, and contemporary evolution.
 
The city’s architectural identity is perhaps most famously embodied in the British Columbia Parliament Buildings and The Empress Hotel, both designed by Francis Rattenbury and each a grandiose expression of late 19th-century imperial confidence. Their monumental stone facades and Edwardian flourishes assert a presence that has long defined the Inner Harbour. Beyond these landmarks, Victoria boasts an extensive collection of other heritage buildings—ranging from Queen Anne and Italianate commercial structures to Arts and Crafts residences in neighborhoods like Rockland—that lend a tangible sense of continuity with the past. At the same time, contemporary interventions, such as the TELUS Ocean Building now taking shape, reflect a shift toward glassy modernism and densification, particularly in the downtown core.
 
Victoria’s urban realm is another defining feature. Unlike many North American cities, its compact, walkable scale remains intact. The human-centered streetscapes, punctuated by pocket parks and waterfront vistas, support a civic life that prioritizes pedestrians over automobiles. The city has also embraced cycling infrastructure, further reinforcing its European-influenced urban sensibility.
 
This is my first visit to Victoria in decades, so I’ve been curious to observe how its architectural and planning traditions have evolved since I last was here during the 1980s. How has the city reconciled its architectural and cultural heritage with the pressures of growth and affordability? How do new developments contribute—or detract—from its established character? Victoria does offer a compelling study in balancing past and future, tradition and innovation.

Exciting Career Opportunities at Robertson/Sherwood/Architects pc

As many of you know, I recently retired following a fulfilling career as an architect, spending the last 36 years with Robertson/Sherwood/Architects (RSA) in Eugene, Oregon. I'm thrilled to share that RSA is currently looking to expand their talented team by filling two open positions: Project Architect/Project Manager and Designer. 

Due to an increased workload and a growing portfolio of exciting projects, RSA is seeking enthusiastic, career-oriented individuals to join their team. This is a fantastic opportunity to be part of a firm known for its attention to detail, focus on service, emphasis on collaboration, and supportive, family-friendly office culture. 

Project Architect/Project Manager

RSA is on the lookout for a dedicated individual to take on the role of Project Architect/Project Manager. This position involves overseeing the design team's efforts from initial planning through to construction administration, ensuring projects are completed on time, within budget, and to the highest standards.

Key Qualifications:

• Demonstrable design talent and critical thinking skills
• Strong communication skills and enthusiasm for teamwork
• Minimum of 3 years of professional experience
• Proficiency with Revit, InDesign, Adobe Creative Suite, and Office 365 is highly desirable

Designer

RSA is also seeking a creative and career-oriented individual to join their team as a Designer. This role involves contributing to the development of projects from conceptual planning through construction administration. 

Key Qualifications:

• Demonstrable design talent and critical thinking skills
• Strong communication skills and enthusiasm for teamwork
• Architecture degree from a NAAB accredited program or equivalent
• Proficiency with Revit, InDesign, Adobe Creative Suite, and Office 365 is highly desirable

RSA’s diverse portfolio of project types provides exciting opportunities for professional growth. The firm offers a comprehensive benefits package, including a 401k plan, company-paid medical insurance, short-term/long-term disability insurance, transit/parking passes, and more.

Interested?

If you or someone you know is interested in these opportunities, please send your resume (and work samples as a PDF or link to your online portfolio) by email to info@robertsonsherwood.com.

Designing for Experience

Gamble House porch – Greene and Greene, Architects (photo by Mattnad, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons)

 

Architecture transcends form and function. It is a lived experience that shapes how we perceive, feel, and belong in spaces. The environments we inhabit influence our emotions and sense of place, extending beyond mere aesthetics and utility. A phenomenological approach to design places the human dimension at the forefront, focusing on how individuals engage with and experience their surroundings over time.
 
When I first studied architecture, human experience was not at the forefront of my design thinking. Instead, I was drawn to the conceptual abstraction found in the work of certain architects I admired. These practitioners seemingly focused more on abstract theories than principles founded on experientiality or sensory engagement. Their designs distilled complex ideas into seductive forms, while emphasizing intellectual rigor over emotional or physical resonance. I found their cerebral and aesthetic approaches captivating.
 
This perspective shifted during my studies at the University of Oregon under Professor Bill Kleinsasser. His course, Experiential Considerations in Architecture, introduced a transformative lens, emphasizing a design approach that prioritizes human needs and contextual harmony over theoretical abstraction. Bill highlighted the dynamic, subjective nature of existence, a view I later recognized as aligned with phenomenology.
 
Martin Heidegger’s 1951 essay Building, Dwelling, Thinking provided a profound framework for phenomenology and understanding architecture’s role in human existence. He shifted the focus from buildings as static objects to environments that facilitate meaningful dwelling, fostering a deeper connection between people and place. This concept of dwelling, grounded in physical and existential experience, influenced later thinkers and architects who have built on the idea of engaging all the senses in design.
 
In his book The Eyes of the Skin (1996), Juhani Pallasmaa critiqued architecture’s tendency to overemphasize the visual, advocating for a more holistic, multisensory approach to design. In this regard, Pallasmaa’s critique builds on Heidegger’s notion of dwelling, further expanding the architectural experience beyond sight to include other senses that foster a more holistic engagement with space.

Interior, Therme Vals (photo from 7132 Hotels: Experience Serenity: Peter Zumthor Thermal Baths at 7132, Vals, Switzerland)

 

Peter Zumthor’s Therme Vals (1996) project in Switzerland exemplifies this emphasis. Its subterranean stone corridors, muted light, warm humidity, and resonant acoustics engage the body holistically, creating a multisensory experience that goes beyond the visual. For Zumthor, the materiality of stone, wood, and concrete is not just a visual experience; it invites tactile, acoustic, and even olfactory engagement, reminding us that true dwelling happens not only in the mind, but through the full spectrum of our senses.
 
Similarly, Steven Holl’s Chapel of St. Ignatius (1997) in Seattle prioritizes spatial experience over visual dominance. The sequence of intimate, textured volumes—rough concrete meeting smooth wood—combined with acoustic stillness, fosters contemplation and creates an atmosphere that is felt as much as seen.
 
Architectural taxonomists categorize Charles W. Moore as another well-known architectural phenomenologist. Charles, whom I had the privilege of working with and knowing during my years in Los Angeles, applied an experiential approach to his work, fully embracing playfulness and narrative. The Oceanside Civic Center (1986) exemplifies this approach. Rather than adhering to rigid modernist formulas, the Civic Center creates a dynamic and engaging experience. Vibrant colors, layered references, and an interplay between interior and exterior spaces make the environment feel both engaging and accessible, fostering a strong civic identity while being inviting. The design underscores the idea that spaces should evoke emotional connections, as an environment that fosters community and well-being.

 

Just as the work of Zumthor, Hall, and Moore emphasizes the emotional and narrative dimensions of space, the focus on human experience also extends to the urban context. Kevin Lynch explored how people perceive and navigate cities, emphasizing elements that create coherence, meaning, and a sense of place. In The Image of the City (1960), he identified legibility—the ability to mentally map and emotionally connect with one’s surroundings—as an essential component of urban experience.
 
Christopher Alexander’s theories strongly support design with experiential considerations in mind. He championed intuitive, emotionally resonant, and contextually grounded design processes, opposing mechanistic approaches that prioritize abstraction over lived experience. In A Pattern Language (1977), Alexander and his co-authors, Sara Ishikawa and Murray Silverstein, identified intuitive patterns that contribute to livable, meaningful spaces. The enduring appeal of these patterns lies in their ability to form a bridge between past experiences and the design of new environments.
 
Alexander asserted that certain spatial arrangements—such as small public squares that encourage gathering or window seats that invite reflection—resonate with people on an elemental level. His book The Timeless Way of Building (1979) introduced the concept of the “quality without a name,” an indefinable yet deeply felt essence that makes spaces feel alive and meaningful. This essence aligns with Heidegger’s notion of dwelling and Pallasmaa’s multisensory focus. 

An experiential approach to design is clear in the Gamble House (1908), designed by Greene and Greene. The house features rich, tactile materials like wood, stone, and copper, creating an intimate and sensory experience. The design incorporates carefully crafted details that invite touch, such as handcrafted furniture and textured surfaces. Carefully placed openings frame views to the surrounding landscape. The Gamble House emphasizes comfort, warmth, and an organic sense of dwelling—qualities that resonate with Heidegger’s notion of place and belonging (despite predating Heidegger's ideas).  

More contemporary applications of these principles extend this legacy. Frank Gehry’s Maggie’s Centre Dundee (2003) in Scotland, a cancer care facility, features an undulating roof, warm timber interiors, and garden views, offering solace through tactile comfort and natural soundscapes. Tadao Ando’s Church of Light in Japan is a minimalist example, a simple yet profound exploration of concrete, light, and shadow. The meditative space encourages introspection and spiritual engagement. The experience of moving through the space and encountering natural light is both physical and emotional, making it a deeply phenomenological.  

The spaces we occupy shape our emotions, memories, and sense of identity, deepening the significance of place. The patina of weathered materials or the rhythm of spatial transitions can deepen these connections, making a place feel lived-in and meaningful.  

Buildings are not static; they are shaped by human life and interactions, evolving through experience and adaptation to new needs and contexts. In an era when globalized design tends toward uniformity, phenomenology offers a vital framework to prioritize the human dimension, crafting spaces that resonate deeply with their inhabitants. 

Jane Jacobs, Eugene, and the Evolution of Cities

 

Jane Jacobs (photo by Phil Stanziola, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons)

The visionary urbanist Jane Jacobs famously described cities as living ecosystems in her 1961 book The Death and Life of Great American Cities. Challenging the urban renewal missteps of the 1950s and 1960s. Jacobs advocated for mixed-use development, bottom-up planning, and citizen empowerment. Her vision, along with the contributions of many other urbanists and activists, continues to shape cities worldwide. Eugene is no exception. Various organizations—at both the national and local levels—are working to help transform our city into a walkable, sustainable hub.
 
The following groups are helping to broadly shape urban design policies, greatly influencing Eugene’s efforts through their research and advocacy:
 

• Smart Growth America (SGA) backs walkable, equitable development through zoning reforms and transit-oriented planning, an approach that has informed Eugene’s compact urban vision.
• Congress for the New Urbanism (CNU) builds on Jacobs’s legacy by advancing human-scale, mixed-use design, while providing resources, education, and technical assistance to create socially just, economically robust, environmentally resilient, and people-centered places.
• Project for Public Spaces (PPS) transforms public spaces into community hubs, bringing them to life by planning and designing them with the people who use them every day. PPS did exactly this when it contracted with the City of Eugene back in 2016 to identify a series of recommendations for immediate improvements that would transform the public’s perception of the downtown core.
• Strong Towns critiques car-centric sprawl and promotes financially sustainable urbanism, actions that support Eugene’s current emphasis on infill as the means to increase density and affordability.

Several advocacy groups here in Eugene are further translating these national ideas into local action, each with more specific urbanist goals in mind:
 

• Better Eugene-Springfield Transportation(BEST) advocates for improvements to public transit and other transportation options, safe streets, walkable neighborhoods, accessible bicycle infrastructure, and more. Notably, BEST served as a civic vanguard in support of the 2017 EmX bus rapid transit system expansion. That expansion boosted ridership by 14% and has added more than 43,000 riders annually.
• Greater Eugene Area Riders (GEARS) is a non-profit with the mission to promote and encourage bicycle riding for transportation and recreation. GEARS works to enhance the bicycle culture in Eugene and promote the ongoing expansion of Eugene’s bike path network.
• Walkable Eugene Citizens Advisory Network(WE CAN) is an ad hoc group of homeowners, renters, and property owners who support successful, diverse, and community-supportable walkable, 20-minute neighborhoods in Eugene, and who believe that all Eugene residents should have choices for housing that fit their lifestyle and budget. Note: WE CAN doesn’t appear to be as active as it once was, but its efforts did help push the implementation of such pedestrian-friendly policies as the reduction of parking minimums in the (now withdrawn) South Willamette Area Plan.
• Better Housing Together champions housing diversity and walkability, and supports the development of denser, mixed-use neighborhoods. The group’s efforts contributed toward the passage of House Bill 2001 (HB 2001), which then-governor Kate Brown signed into law on August 8, 2019, taking effect in 2020. The bill allows for alternative and more affordable types of housing to be built, such as duplexes, triplexes, fourplexes, and cottage clusters. This legislative change will be particularly impactful in Eugene, where the need for increased housing diversity is acute.

Cities, like natural ecosystems, are incredibly complex. The variety of organizations might suggest redundancy, but it’s a strategic asset reflecting this complexity. BEST focuses on transit, WE CAN on walkability, yet their efforts—often overlapping on safer streets—ensures broad coverage. National groups drive broad policy, while local ones tailor it to Eugene’s needs, fostering resilience and innovation. If one falters, others persist, amplifying impact through shared strategies.
 
These groups reshape policy and infrastructure. SGA and CNU influence zoning for mixed-use growth, revitalizing downtowns nationwide, while local efforts like BEST’s advocacy for public transit funding and GEARS’s promotion of bike networks enhance accessibility. Despite occasional resistance, the work of these groups and the others mirrors efforts seen elsewhere that are reshaping landscapes nationwide. Beyond physical changes, they shift public perception, empowering residents to influence what kind of development occurs and to value sustainability.
 
Of course, the University of Oregon has also been a leader in these efforts. The Oregon Experiment pioneered the concept of participatory design. Today, the Sustainable Cities Institute (SCI) focuses on sustainability and cities through applied research, teaching, and community partnerships. SCI works across disciplines that match the complexity of cities to address sustainability challenges, from regional planning to building design. Its programs, which include the Sustainable City Year Program, the EPIC-Network, and Urbanism Next, reflect SCI’s broad reach and influence.
 
Eugene faces mounting growth pressures in the coming decades. Current forecasts predict steady population growth through 2045, driven by migration despite an aging demographic, straining the urban growth boundary. This growth demands more housing—affordable and diverse—and jobs to sustain it, challenges that Envision Eugene and groups like Better Housing Together are tackling head-on, helping to ensure the city adapts proactively.
 
The vision of vibrant, people-centric cities, championed by Jane Jacobs and many others, drives these efforts, yielding steady, tangible progress in many North American cities. This legacy unfolds in Eugene through the persistent efforts of the groups I have mentioned. Cities evolve slowly, like living organisms, requiring time to mature into the resilient, walkable places we envision—an evolution these organizations are committed to sustaining.

Looking Back: Architecture Career Advice

A design studio review at the University of Oregon (my photo)

This post is another outcome of my ongoing efforts to sort through and purge the mountains of old paperwork I’ve retained over the years—much of it for reasons I struggle to remember or justify now that I’m retired. I recently discovered a box containing materials from my time as an adjunct instructor at the University of Oregon’s Department of Architecture, where I helped teach the Context of the Professions class during the 2012 and 2013 academic years. Among the contents was a set of questions submitted by students as part of a class assignment. Their questions—posed to me and my fellow instructors—asked for our opinions about entry into the profession and reflections on our early experiences as fledgling employees.
 
Rather than responding in writing, we answered these questions in a freewheeling discussion before the assembled class. While I don’t have an exact record of what we said, the questions themselves remain a treasure. Below is a sampling, along with answers I composed today. I’m not sure how much my responses differ from those I gave in 2012 and 2013, but I like to think they carry a bit more perspective, reflecting an additional decade-plus of experience and insight.
 
1. If employers are concerned with hiring individuals with experience, then what makes them likely to hire a recent graduate at all?
Employers look for potential, not just experience. Recent graduates bring fresh perspectives, technical skills (especially in software), and a willingness to learn. Firms value enthusiasm, adaptability, and the ability to work collaboratively.
 
2. How can I (a presumed graduate) make myself a more desirable applicant than someone with real-world experience?
Demonstrate robust design and technical skills, proficiency in industry-standard software (Revit, Rhino, Grasshopper, Adobe Creative Suite, Bluebeam Revu, etc.), and critical thinking ability. A well-curated portfolio, professional communication, and relevant internship experience can help compensate for a lack of full-time experience.
 
3. If you were hiring a summer intern, what qualities would you look for first?
Initiative, curiosity, and a strong work ethic. A good intern asks questions, learns quickly, and contributes meaningfully. Proficiency in digital tools and a willingness to take on varied tasks are also key.
 
4. What steps should we take while still in school to help us find a job later?
Seek internships and part-time positions in architecture firms. Build relationships with professors and professionals. Develop a strong portfolio showcasing a range of skills. Learn both design and technical software. Attend networking events and join professional organizations like AIA, CSI, or NCARB.
 
5. In interviews, is it better to admit weaknesses and areas for improvement, or just focus on strengths?
A balance is best. Confidence in strengths is key, but firms also value self-awareness and a willingness to improve.
 
6. How much of your career success do you attribute to talent and effort, versus being in the right place at the right time?
Success is a mix of skill, hard work, and luck. Talent and perseverance set the foundation, but networking and timing often influence career trajectory. Many professionals recommend making your own luck by being proactive and engaged in the industry.
 
7. Would your friends and family say you’ve effectively balanced work and social life?
Many architects struggle with work-life balance, especially early in their careers. Setting boundaries and working for firms that value employee well-being can help, but long hours are often a reality in the field.
 
8. How influential is the portfolio in the application process? Can strong management and organizational skills balance out middle-of-the-road design skills?
The portfolio is crucial, but firms also consider communication, teamwork, and organizational skills. Those who are strong in project management, client relations, and technical execution can be just as valuable as pure design talents.
 
9. Is it better to take an undesirable position at a firm you like or a desirable position at a firm you don’t like?
It's generally better to work at a firm that aligns with your values, even if the role isn’t ideal. Culture, mentorship, and opportunities for growth matter more in the long run than immediate job duties.
 
10. Do you prefer working in a big firm or a small one, and why?
Preferences vary. Big firms offer large projects, specialization, resources, and stability. Small firms provide diverse experience, close mentorship, and more direct involvement in design decisions. I spent my career in small-to-medium-sized firms (ranging from 9 to 18 employees), where I enjoyed a blend of benefits associated with both large and small offices.
 
11. How does the high-pressure architecture school studio culture compare to firm work?
Working in an architecture firm is demanding but typically more structured. Deadlines are real, but projects unfold over months or years, allowing for deeper refinement. The all-nighter culture is less common, though long hours can persist depending on firm culture and project deadlines.
 
12. What do you most regret about your career? What would you have done differently?
I have no regrets. My career was fulfilling and met my expectations in every way. That said, I know much of my good fortune was due to luck and being in the right place at the right time. Other architects might wish they had networked earlier, gained better business knowledge, pursued licensure sooner, or maintained a better work-life balance.
 
13. How does one establish themselves in a firm and move into leadership?
Leadership is built through reliability, problem-solving, and initiative. Key steps include becoming indispensable on projects, building client and team relationships, learning about firm operations, and expressing interest in leadership roles.
 
14. Is it better to start my career in a small city or a large one?
There are trade-offs to both. Large cities offer exposure to high-profile projects, diverse firms, and more structured career paths, but they come with higher costs and competition. Smaller cities often provide more hands-on experience, greater project responsibility, and a lower cost of living, but fewer large-scale opportunities. Many architects start in one and transition to the other. I worked in large cities (Vancouver and Los Angeles) but spent most of my career in Eugene, which, despite being a smaller market, offered me many meaningful opportunities.
 
15. How important is getting licensed early in my career?
While gaining experience is essential, licensure opens more career opportunities, including leadership roles, higher salaries, and the ability to stamp drawings. Many professionals recommend working toward licensure as soon as possible while balancing practical experience. That was certainly my goal. I first became licensed in 1985, two years following my graduation from the University of Oregon in 1983.

*    *    *    *    *    *

Looking back at these questions, I realize how much of what I’ve learned wasn’t just about architecture itself, but about navigating a career—understanding what really matters, what lasts, and what fades with time. There’s no single path to success in this profession, but curiosity, adaptability, and persistence go a long way. If emerging professionals stay engaged, keep learning, and surround themselves with people who challenge and support them, the rest tends to fall into place. Of course, this is easy for me to say from where I stand today. The architectural profession is changing rapidly, and my advice may soon feel outdated, but the fundamentals of curiosity, adaptability, and persistence will always matter.

Urban Identity and Collective Memory

 

Piazza San Marco, Venice (photo by Claudio Schwarz on Unsplash)

 
During a recent, spirited round of Swedish death cleaning here in my home, I came across a brief essay I wrote in 1983 during my final year at the University of Oregon. The paper, titled Urban Identity and Collective Memory, was an assignment for Professor Rosaria Hodgdon’s class ARCH 441G – Critical Issues in the Urban Environment. Reflecting on it now, I recognize my naïve idealism and pedantic tone. My generalization about American attitudes towards urbanism was cartoonish. That said, I believe the core theme remains relevant, particularly its exploration of the relationship between the individual and the collective within our cities.
 
Influenced by cultural shifts, growing environmental awareness, and the political ideologies of the early 1980s, I grappled with the tension between individualism and collectivism. Today, while there is a strong emphasis on community and sustainability, I feel a fundamental belief in the power of architecture to shape social interactions and community life is increasingly absent from architectural education, overwhelmed by an exponentially broadening range of other concerns.
 
My perspective has evolved over the past four-plus decades, but I remain convinced of the importance of individuals coming together with a shared understanding of what constitutes a healthy urban environment. Maybe the 20-something me wasn’t so naïve after all.
 
Urban Identity and Collective Memory
The meaning of the term “urban” often eludes those of us who were indoctrinated with anti-urban, agrarian, and Jeffersonian sensibilities, and raised in that antithesis of the city—the homogenous bedroom suburb. Most Americans do not understand what it is to belong to the polis, to contribute to and share the rewards of collective agreement, much less understand the place and function of architecture within a complex city structure. The frontier mentality persists, encouraging everyone to stake their own claim on the land. It is the individual that is stressed and not the collective. Many consider “urban” and “urbanity” as abstract concepts, the domain of politicians, sociologists, and planners, rather than architects.
 
There is a risk in so simplistic a characterization of American attitudes; nevertheless, it serves the point I am making. This is that we too often hesitate to share ourselves, to be active participants in the life of the collective, and yet it is public agreement and celebration of that which is shared that ensures a vital city. Rob Krier suggests that we might almost infer in the city the existence of a kind of social ritual which provides a perfect match between the individual and the collective. To Krier, Aldo Rossi, and many others, being “urban” means being both—to be part of a community.
 
Rossi would say that all of us belong and contribute to the collective memory of the city, and that it is in the architecture of the city that we find this memory. Architecture is the stage for, as well as a participant in, the drama of human events. The city is one large piece of architecture. For Krier, “urban space” is the operative term. Urban space is of the city, and it is either internal/private or external/public. Jose Ortega y Gasset spoke of the city as a product of the street and square, the basic elements of urban space. To him the polis started as an empty space, the architecture of the city being the means of fixing that empty space and limiting its outlines. A public square, thanks to the fabric that defines it, sets itself in opposition to the countryside. The fabric is the architectural fact of urban space, and it is the interplay between architectural fact and urban effect that is of interest to Vincent Scully, among others.
 
Architecturally, individual buildings have a responsibility to the collective urban scene. At their best, they display an enthusiasm for the public life. The Piazza San Marco is a good example of a public urban space. Kevin Lynch calls the piazza a “node,” a strategic focus for the city. It sets itself in sharp contrast to the general character of Venice and to the narrow, twisted spaces of its immediate approaches. The piazza is highly structured architecturally, but as Robert Venturi noted, the consistent spatial order is not without contradictions in scale and texture.
 
J.N.L. Durand wrote “Just as the walls, the columns, etc. are the elements which compose buildings, so buildings are the elements which compose cities.” As a corollary to this, we can say that while it is the particular that characterizes the individual, it is individuals that form the collective. The Venetians have an urban sense, and the Piazza San Marco is evidence: It is full of everyday life, people, activities, and history. The piazza is the city’s living room. If we could muster a fraction of the enthusiasm for the city that the Venetians have for theirs, both we and our architecture would be more surely urban.
 
RN/1983

Architecture is Awesome: #39 The Comfort of a Corner

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

 
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. 
 
Corners are where architecture gathers itself, where walls meet in quiet agreement. They are the natural refuge of a room—a place to tuck oneself away, to observe without being observed. In a world that often pulls in all directions, corners provide a moment of stillness, a chance to pause, to belong.
 
I have long been fascinated by the role of corners in shaping how we experience space. They are both defining and defined, both boundary and shelter. A well-crafted corner can convey strength, elegance, or even mystery. Think of the hushed intimacy of a reading nook pressed into the junction of two walls, or the grandeur of a vaulted cathedral where corners dissolve into shadow and stone.
 

Photo by Alexander McFeron on Unsplash

 
Corners invite adaptation. In our homes, they become places of retreat—an armchair pulled close, a lamp casting a pool of light, a cat curled into the warm geometry of the space. In public architecture, corners can become anchors of human activity, where city blocks turn, where street musicians tuck themselves away, where friends gather for an impromptu conversation.
 

Photo by Partha Narasimhan on Unsplash

 
Some corners impose, while others embrace. The sharp, precise edges of a modernist masterpiece draw attention to the purity of form, while the softened, time-worn corners of an ancient stone wall suggest history and endurance.
 

Seagram Building, New York. Mies van der Rohe, architect (my photo)

 

Seagram Building - Corner construction detail

 
Even beyond the built environment, corners are woven into the way we think and feel. We speak of turning a corner when life takes a hopeful shift. We find comfort in the idea of a corner table, a corner office, a corner of the world to call our own. Corners offer both perspective and protection, a place to press one’s back and feel grounded.
 
In the end, architecture is about making space for life to unfold, and corners remind us that even in the most open plans, we sometimes seek enclosure. They give us pause, they hold us, and they remind us that finding a corner to call our own—whether for reflection, refuge, or simply a moment of stillness—is truly awesome.
 
Next Architecture is Awesome: #40 Light and Shadow

The Brutalist

My wife and I sought refuge from Friday afternoon’s rain by immersing ourselves within the imagined world of a great movie—The Brutalist. Directed by Brady Corbet, the film is hailed by many critics as a work of towering ambition, worthy of the highest industry awards. Indeed, some even deem it a masterpiece. Given its title, subject matter, and the hype surrounding it, I had to see it.

 
As someone who has lived the life of an architect, I brought high hopes that The Brutalist would provide the kind of cinematic experience I’ve long desired—one that fully embraces the transformative power of visionary design and conveys its profound impact on both creator and society. While The Brutalist is richly composed and thematically dense, it ultimately left me unfulfilled. It isn’t a film about architecture but rather one about the trauma and compromises of its protagonist, Hungarian émigré architect László Tóth.(1) At best, architecture functions as a metaphor rather than a subject. In doing so, I think Corbet missed an opportunity to explore why architecture—specifically Brutalism—matters.
 
The film charts the rise and fall of the fictional Tóth, a Holocaust survivor who immigrates to America and is commissioned by wealthy industrialist Harrison Lee Van Buren to design a grand, imposing project. While The Brutalist touches on themes of artistic integrity, patronage, and the weight of history, it never truly explores why László is so devoted to Brutalism or what drives his stylistic choices beyond vague notions of resilience and monumentality. The film barely reveals the details of his designs, let alone the creative process behind them. There's little sense of how his ideas evolve, what his influences are, or how his work engages with the architectural discourse of the time. Corbet frames László’s work more as an externalization of his inner turmoil than as a deeply considered architectural philosophy. I do suppose we can see the raw, exposed concrete he designs with as a representation of his resilience and the weight of his past or as the emotional barrier he erects to protect himself from further pain.

 
While undoubtedly Oscar-worthy, Adrien Brody’s portrayal of László Tóth as a deeply principled but emotionally fractured and damaged man veers into the same tortured genius archetype he embodied in The Pianist. There, his character’s suffering was visceral, grounded in a historical reality that needed no embellishment. In The Brutalist, however, the film’s artistic affectations distanced me from Tóth’s pain rather than drawing me into it. Additionally, Felicity Jones, as László’s wife Erzsébet, provided an emotional anchor, but her character’s development was limited. Guy Pearce’s Van Buren, while compelling, remained enigmatic in ways that sometimes felt underwritten rather than deliberate.
 
For a film that spans decades and continents, The Brutalist struggles with pacing. Despite its three-and-a-half-hour runtime (including a 15-minute intermission), I found key transitions jarringly abrupt. László’s arrival in America and subsequent ascent in Van Buren’s orbit happen with little sense of progression—he goes from immigrant to major commission without much attention to his professional evolution. Later, the film’s climax feels similarly rushed, offering only a cryptic glimpse of his final project. Corbet’s decision to leave the exact nature of Tóth’s ultimate work open to interpretation might be an artistic choice, but it felt less like deliberate ambiguity and more like an avoidance of fully engaging with architecture as a discipline.
 
In this regard, The Brutalist reminds me of another film that ostensibly placed architecture at its thematic core—Francis Ford Coppola’s Megalopolis. Both films are burdened by their own ambitions, using architecture as a narrative vessel rather than a fully realized subject. When I reviewed Megalopolis, I noted its thematic parallels to The Fountainhead: while Ayn Rand’s novel champions individualism and objectivism, Coppola’s film critiques the dangers of unchecked ambition and the ethical complexities of utopian idealism. With The Brutalist, the Fountainhead comparison also applies, but in a different way—Corbet’s film is less about ideology and more about the personal costs of creation.
 
Despite my reservations, I can't deny The Brutalist's craftsmanship. The production design is impressive in its attention to period details, such as the costuming and depictions of the society forces that shaped and constrained László’s life. The use of real locations, like the marble quarries in Carrara, Italy, adds authenticity. The cinematography, shot in VistaVision (a large format last used on a major motion picture in 1961) is likewise evocative, though at times its desaturated dreariness felt at odds with the grandeur the film seems to aspire to.
 
I left The Brutalist feeling much as I did after watching Megalopolis—impressed by its ambition but frustrated by its execution. I still long for a film that truly captures the power of architecture as an art form, one that illuminates why it matters, how it shapes us, and what drives those who dedicate their lives to it. The Brutalist acknowledges architecture’s emotional and symbolic weight, but it stops short of truly engaging with it. In the end, it is a film about an architect, not a film about architecture. And for a work that promised to be steeped in the language of design, that feels like a missed opportunity.
 
(1)  Some have suggested that Tóth is loosely inspired by Marcel Breuer, another Hungarian architect who immigrated to the U.S. and designed buildings that exemplify the Brutalist ethos. 

Architectural Freedom vs. Political Mandates

 

“Federal public buildings should be visually identifiable as civic buildings and respect regional, traditional, and classical architectural heritage in order to uplift and beautify public spaces and ennoble the United States and our system of self-government. Such recommendations shall consider appropriate revisions to the Guiding Principles for Federal Architecture and procedures for incorporating community input into Federal building design selections.”
Promoting Beautiful Federal Civic Architecture – Donald J. Trump, January 20, 2025
 
With President Trump’s reintroduction of the Promoting Beautiful Federal Civic Architecture directive, we find ourselves revisiting an issue I first addressed in 2020 and then again in 2023. As I argued in both of those instances, the mandate wasn’t then nor is it now solely about aesthetic preference; it's a continuation of a troubling trend wherein architecture becomes weaponized in the service of cultural and political warfare.
 
In those earlier posts, I discussed how idealogues outside the architectural profession are exploiting the traditional vs. modern binary. These forces cop-opt historicizing designs to fulfill agendas rooted in nativism and the preservation of a narrow cultural identity. I referenced Robert Bevan's Monumental Lies: Culture Wars and the Truth about the Past. In that book, Bevan highlighted the long-standing push for nativist traditionalism under the cloak of "beauty," a narrative the directive clearly calls to mind.

 
Trump’s reissuance of this directive underscores my concern about the political misappropriation of federal architecture. It's not just a matter of style imposition; it is also what the directive signifies to a small but significant base that ominously equates traditional architecture with cultural purity or heritage. Yet, as I said before, not every advocate for classical design aligns with far-right politics, nor does every modernist lean left. Perhaps naively, I prefer to regard beauty in architecture on the basis of its intrinsic qualities, freed from the political motivations that may have biased its shaping.
 
To underscore this point, I can readily cite widely admired federal projects that have embraced architectural diversity without resorting to traditional or classical expressions. For example, the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, designed by Maya Lin, uses a modern, minimalist design to evoke profound emotion and remembrance. The National Museum of African American History and Culture by the team of David Adjaye, the Freelon Group (now Perkins & Will), Davis Brody Bond, and SmithGroup reflects its cultural narrative through innovative architecture, earning widespread acclaim. The public has likewise embraced the National September 11 Memorial, featuring a modern design by Michael Arad and Peter Walker, for its poignant and contemporary approach to memorialization.

Vietnam Veterans Memorial (photo courtesy National Park Service, CC BY 2.0 <photo by Oren Rozen, CC BY-SA 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0>, via Wikimeia Commons)

 

National Museum of African American History and Culture (photo by Frank Schulenburg, CC BY-SA 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0>, via Wikimedia Commons)

 

National September 11 Memorial & Museum (photo by Paul Sableman, CC BY 2.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0>, via Wikimedia Commons)

At the opposite end of the stylistic continuum, the new Federal Courthouse in Mobile, Alabama (designed by Hartman-Cox Architects and completed in 2018) is a neoclassical design, featuring grand columns and traditional detailing. Community leaders and citizens of Mobile praise the building for its aesthetic appeal, functionality, high energy efficiency (achieving LEED Gold certification), and sourcing of its limestone cladding from a nearby quarry.  

Federal Courthouse, Mobile, AB (photo by By Chris Pruitt - Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=146867882)

 
These examples showcase the richness that comes from allowing architectural expression to be as diverse as the nation it serves. They also underscore the importance of context as a necessary yardstick for design, suggesting that federal architecture can and should reflect the unique circumstances and histories of each project’s specific physical and cultural settings. Architects should be able to view their work as a broad spectrum of possibilities and not exclusively through classical or traditional lenses prescribed by politicians.

Ideally, architects will resist the politicization of federal architecture by embracing professional autonomy, promoting inclusive design principles, and advocating for architectural freedom. Education, collaboration with diverse stakeholders, and a commitment to ethical practices are vital to ensuring that our buildings tell the story of a diverse, vibrant nation, and do not function as stand-ins for virulent political rhetoric. These are not “woke” concepts; rather, they are common-sense responses.(1)
 
The directive is a call to action. For my part, I will continue to champion an architecture that is genuinely of its place, time, and people, one that bridges divides as opposed to widening them. Everyone can endeavor to safeguard the pursuit of beauty and common-sense design from political weaponization, ensuring that federal architecture is a reflection of our collective identity and not a divisive nod to a bygone era.
 
As it did when Trump first rolled out this directive in 2020, the American Institute of Architects (AIA) has again voiced its strong opposition, reaffirming its stance that architecture should not be dictated by a uniform style but rather designed to reflect the diverse communities it serves. The AIA's concern is that mandating architectural styles limits innovation and could harm local communities by imposing a one-size-fits-all approach to design.
 
I do want to make it clear that my opposition is not to the use of traditional or classical architectural vocabularies. These styles can offer beauty, functionality, and a sense of continuity with history where appropriate. My concern lies with the extent to which the mandate strips away the possibility for design to evolve and respond innovatively to contemporary contexts.

(1) An article on DesignBoom points out how Trump's directive is in apparent contradiction with the goal of limiting government intervention often promoted by Trump and other conservatives. The article says that while Trump has consistently argued against bureaucratic red tape and advocated for reducing regulations, the directive does the opposite by creating a set of stylistic standards that architects of federal projects must follow.