On Architecture, Meaning, and the Responsibility of Creation

 

VA Roseburg Protective Care Unit

In my last post, I wrote about the perspective that comes with stepping away from daily practice and how retirement offers me a new vantage from which to view the profession. Freed from the urgency of deadlines and client meetings, I can return to some elemental questions—questions that reach beyond architecture’s role and into the speculative realm of what confers meaning at all. What makes a place feel as though it matters? Is meaning found in form, function, memory, or something else entirely? 

I don’t approach these questions seeking metaphysical certainty. Instead, I find myself aligned with strains of secular humanism and what some call engaged realism, worldviews that prioritize human agency and experience in the physical world, without relying on spiritual or supernatural assumptions. Secular humanism emphasizes purpose through human connection, creativity, and obligation, whereas engaged realism focuses on grounding meaning in tangible experience. 

I’m not advocating for a materialist outlook that is consumerist or reductionist, but rather one founded in the lived, physical world, one that sees meaning as something we construct through interaction, attention, and embodiment rather than something revealed from on high. These frameworks help me articulate a philosophy focused upon care, craft, and honest acknowledgement of impermanence. 

This view doesn’t diminish the value of our experiences; rather, it deepens them. It underscores how much our day-to-day actions matter and how architecture, as a public and persistent act, reflects our shared values. Of course, many find meaning through faith, tradition, or a synthesis of spiritual and secular sources. Some spiritual traditions, like Buddhism or Christian humanism, also emphasize human agency in creating meaning, sharing common ground with secular humanism. But for those of us who look to the material world for guidance, the absence of metaphysical guarantees does not render meaning arbitrary. It simply shifts the burden and the opportunity onto us. 

While some might question whether a secular foundation offers the same permanence or moral authority as traditional belief systems, I’d argue that meaning rooted in shared human experience—through memory, empathy, and collective effort—offers its own resilience, adaptable to diverse contexts and evolving over time. 

If anything, my materialist perspective has affirmed my belief in the role architects play. There may be no cosmic blueprint guiding them, but that doesn’t leave architects adrift. On the contrary, it places the creative and ethical burden squarely on their shoulders: to design environments that support dignity, foster connection, and elevate experience, not because they are pious, but because they are human. This responsibility is not universal in practice; architects often face constraints like budgets, client demands, or zoning laws that prioritize function or profit over meaning. Yet, when possible, prioritizing attentiveness and craftsmanship allows architecture to embody commonly shared values. These ideas resonate with architecture’s potential to shape spaces that nurture relationships and uphold dignity, even in a world without absolute guarantees. 

One of the most rewarding projects I worked on, the VA Roseburg Protective Care Unit, embodied this duty. My colleagues at Robertson/Sherwood/Architects and I set out to design more than just a facility. We wanted to create a home for veterans living with dementia, one that honored their lives, their stories, and their continued presence in the world. Though we weren’t invoking religious symbolism per se, we turned to metaphor—the Tree of Life—as a unifying theme. 

The Tree of Life became a way to express continuity, memory, and vitality, concepts especially poignant for a population facing cognitive decline. The metaphor gave form to the building's central courtyard, where soft light and open pathways invite gathering, and to the flanking households. It offered staff, residents, and visitors a narrative structure, both physical and emotional, to orient by. 

While symbols like the Tree of Life may have origins in spiritual traditions, they are not proprietary. They belong to a shared cultural lexicon, shaped by archetypes that resonate across belief systems. We chose the Tree of Life for its broad resonance, but architects should choose metaphors that align with their community’s values and experiences to resonate inclusively. When interpreted thoughtfully, such symbols can bridge diverse worldviews, not to co-opt the sacred, but to affirm enduring principles like continuity, healing, and belonging. The symbolism required no belief in a higher power; its strength lay in its emotional clarity and its capacity to unify rather than divide. The VA project benefited from a supportive client and budget. But even prosaic projects (apartment buildings, for instance) can foster meaning when they reflect how people live, gather, and belong. 

Of course, even in societies where religious belief was widespread, not every structure was shaped by spiritual doctrine. Many buildings, then as now, were designed for utility. But in such contexts, symbolic meaning often permeated the built environment more broadly, even if unevenly. 

This, I think, illustrates something essential about the creative potential of secular worldviews: they need not be sterile. They can embrace myth, metaphor, and meaning, not as dogma, but as tools for evoking compassion and coherence in a fragmented world. A secular imagination can be rich in narrative and aspiration, even if it is grounded in the here and now. 

Architecture begins with function. The building must work. But I’ve always believed that beauty and coherence are not luxuries; they are also vital. In fact, I would argue that they are part of a building’s function. They support well-being, provide orientation, and invite emotional resonance. 

I’ve found guidance in Christopher Alexander’s writings on wholeness, which suggest that spaces balanced in proportion, light, and rhythm foster a harmony that feels both timeless and deeply personal. Alexander’s concept of wholeness refers to a quality of design—achieved through elements like natural light or intuitive spatial flow—that fosters calm and connection, outcomes supported by studies in environmental psychology. Alexander wanted us to think of wholeness as a secular analogue to the sacred, an emergent quality that evokes peace, rightness, and integrity through careful, responsive design. 

There is meaning in that, too. Not a capital-M “Meaning,” but the kind we make through attention and authentic craft. Architecture is one way we respond to the world, shape it, and leave traces of what we cared about, etched in built form. Not all architecture achieves this. Some is driven by expedience, profit, or neglect, which only heightens the importance of doing it well. That buildings age and eventually disappear doesn’t negate their importance. On the contrary, it makes our efforts more poignant and even more worthwhile. While impermanence can seem like a loss, it reminds us to design spaces that resonate deeply in their time, leaving memories and influences that endure beyond the physical structure. If permanence is unavailable, presence becomes sacred. 

VA Roseburg Protective Care Unit

This secular, human-centered outlook roots architecture in care and purpose, though practical realities often challenge this ideal. Others arrive at quite different understandings of life’s mission, often through faith or tradition, and I respect that deeply. 

For my part, I’ve found quiet affinity in the writings of thinkers like Albert Camus, Richard Rorty, and Friedrich Nietzsche, not because they offer answers, but because they give voice to a way of being in the world that seems honest. Camus, in facing life’s absurdity, acknowledged the human longing for meaning in a universe that offers none, and yet urged us to act with clarity, empathy, and resolve. Rorty, with his pragmatic pluralism, proposed that in the absence of metaphysical foundations, we might still find solidarity, beauty, and purpose in what we do. And Nietzsche, who saw the absence of inherent meaning as a call to create, challenged us not to despair, but to treat it as an opportunity. We can create, affirm, and live with intention. 

I don’t claim to have lived up to these ideals, but they did influence how I approached my work as an architect and my life in retirement now: as chances to contribute, however modestly, to something that matters, even if only for a time, and only for a few. 

Architects cannot promise permanence, but they can design spaces that carry lasting impact. By drawing on Camus’s insight that we can create our own meaning, architects can design spaces that feel whole, invite connection, and enhance livability. And while wholeness may not explicitly appear on a set of plans or in a specification, it is no less real. To shape environments that honor human dignity is a responsibility and a privilege worth pursuing for all who hope to leave a trace of humanity in the world.

Design for Aging

My parents are old—my father will be 93 next month and my mother turns 92 in June—and the time has come for them to sacrifice their independence. My father’s increasing frailty is the tipping point. He has been my mother’s primary caregiver (she has suffered from progressive dementia for several years) but his own infirmities and incipient cognitive decline have convinced him it’s in his and my mother’s best interest for the two of them to transition to life in an assisted living facility.

He has stubbornly resisted this day and its inevitability for as long as possible. It’s not because my parents haven’t already accepted change in their lives. They moved about a decade ago from their large house in Vancouver, B.C. to the small apartment they live in now. My father forfeited his driver’s license shortly after that move, and with it a significant measure of mobility and personal freedom. My siblings have provided them with the considerable assistance they need, including driving them to medical appointments, running errands, grocery shopping, keeping their apartment clean, and more (I owe them so much gratitude for all they do). What my father hasn’t accepted until now is relinquishing the last vestiges of personal control and freedom he still enjoyed.

My family is in the process of identifying where and what living arrangement will be best for my parents. Because I’m an architect, I naturally think about the characteristics and quality of the setting they will move to and most likely spend their remaining years. I want my mother and father to be comfortable, cared for, and able to enjoy life as much as they can.

Assisted living facilities are a choice for seniors like my parents who are no longer capable of living alone. They typically emphasize providing familiar, comfortable, homelike settings for their residents. They help with daily living activities (bathing, dressing eating, toileting, etc.), provide central dining programs, include emergency call systems in private and common areas, assist with or provide local transportation arrangements, and offer organized educational, recreational, and exercise activities. Most assisted living facilities also contract with skilled nursing care and hospice providers. The quality of care and the residential environments vary considerably from facility to facility. A trait common to many of the best assisted living communities is a superior level of design.

The biggest difference between assisted living communities and nursing homes is the extent of medical services provided. Nursing home residents require around-the-clock skilled medical care and monitoring. The trend in nursing home design over the past couple decades has been away from hospital-like facilities toward resident-centered household models. In addition to meeting the needs of the patients rather than those of the institution, the designs of nursing homes increasingly focus upon providing a high quality of living and downplay an overly sterile or institutional appearance. In this respect, the design of assisted living facilities and nursing homes is converging.

While Robertson/Sherwood/Architects cannot claim a large portfolio of residential-care projects for the elderly, I did serve as the project manager and principal designer for a new “protective care unit” serving Alzheimer’s and dementia patients at the Veterans Affairs MedicalCenter in Roseburg, Oregon. In keeping with the shift toward homelike environments, the VA’s charge to my office was to focus our programming and design efforts on the quality of life to be provided to the patients rather than upon achieving machine-like efficiency and maximum staff convenience. Accordingly, our design manifests the transition toward a resident-centered model of care. Despite their afflictions, we employed strategies intended to increase the residents’ autonomy and sense of control. These comprised designing quiet, smaller spaces (even for group settings), including abundant daylight and orienting views to the surroundings, selecting comforting colors and finishes, and providing easy and supportive wayfinding.  

Interior of the Protective Care Unit, VA Medical Center, Roseburg (design by Robertson/Sherwood/Architects)

The bottom line is design can make a difference in the quality of life residents enjoy. Accordingly, architects have a huge role to play in ensuring the well-being of the most elderly and vulnerable within the communities we serve. As our population increasingly ages, the need for supportive, healthful options for housing seniors who require ongoing help with living is becoming correspondingly acute. Furthermore, the elevated susceptibility of older people to COVID-19 has heightened the need for design adaptations that ensure the comfort and safety of residents. I expect architects will develop strategies for safely connecting residents and maintaining healthful bonds with prospective visitors, family, and friends. Future assisted living facilities and nursing homes will incorporate means to mitigate the loneliness and isolation of the types wrought by the current pandemic.

Despite the best efforts of everyone involved in the design of long-term care facilities, the bottom line is the residents are effectively prisoners of circumstances beyond their entire control. They are, in many respects, disconnected from the greater community. My fear is my father will feel isolated and marginalized, regardless of where he and my mother land. Good architecture can alleviate anxiety and increase comfort, but it can only do so much to overcome the loss of autonomy and dignity that frequently accompanies the ravages of advanced age, and good architecture cannot stand in for the supportive attention and respect only family, friends, and caregivers can provide.   

A Case Study - Part 7: Denouement

Courtyard view of House B, The Lodge (all photos by Leif Photography Studio)

 

This is the seventh and final post of a series dedicated to a case study of a single project—the VA Roseburg Healthcare System Community Living Center (CLC) Expansion— designed by Robertson/Sherwood/Architects. Click on “A Case Study” in the Labels list at right for the full series. 

 

I initiated the Case Study series in January of 2012 but the story actually dates back an additional two years to early 2010 when the VA selected Robertson/ Sherwood/Architects to design a new home for Alzheimer’s and dementia patients at the VA Roseburg (Oregon) Medical Center. 

 

Nobody expected the project would take more than five full years to reach completion. After all, it was not particularly large or complex; a challenge, yes, but one everyone fully expected to successfully complete within a couple of years. As I’ve recounted in previous posts, numerous twists and turns in the story are to blame for its protracted genesis. Regardless, the strands of the plot never unraveled and today the Community Living Center Expansion project at the Veterans Affairs Medical Center in Roseburg, OR is welcoming its first residents.  

Living Room, Unit A

 

As I wrote in Part 2 of this series, our design marked a paradigm shift away from achieving machine-like efficiency and maximum staff convenience toward a patient-centric care model. We’re hopeful the experienced staff will embrace this cultural transformation and function effectively within their new environment. Some may initially resist the change, but with time we expect all will appreciate the value of providing those in their care with as dignified, de-institutionalized, and life-enhancing a home as possible.

 

I’ve no doubt the patients will take to their new quarters well. Despite their diminished abilities, they can still find pleasure and experience satisfaction. The effects of dementia and Alzheimer’s disease do not remove the ability to appreciate, respond to, and experience feelings such as anger, fear, joy, love, or sadness. Those afflicted are individuals who deserve to be treated with respect, integrity, compassion, and concern for their privacy and safety. We designed the CLC Expansion with these considerations in mind. 

 

Typical patient bedroom & bathroom

 

To enhance their quality of life, people with mild to moderate cognitive impairment require appropriate social and physical support. This remains true as their disease progresses. The latest research regarding Alzheimer’s disease and related dementias highlights the importance of good design as a treatment factor. Good architecture has the power to provide a highly supportive environment, one that is life-enhancing as well as functionally adaptive.  

 

Kitchen, Unit B

 

We definitely wanted to help preserve the quality of life for each resident as long as possible. Our design provides a range of opportunities for the occupants, both inside and out. These are appropriate, stimulating, and experientially supportive places full of diversity and choice. They provide options for imprinting and personalization. At the same time, we focused on creating calm, coherent spaces conducive to the patients’ limited cognitive maps. If research on the topic is any indication, we expect our design will also improve their lives when measured in terms of fewer injuries, less medication required, less sleep disturbances, and reduced wandering.

  

Dining Room, Unit A

 

Home is a place of dignity and respect, and the setting most favorable to preserving the patients’ sense of self as their disease inevitably worsens. This is especially important for those who may live out their remaining days in the facility. The comfort, happiness, and dignity of the residents are especially important to their families, who may harbor feelings of guilt for no longer being able to care for their loved ones in their own homes.  

 

View from the southeast

Along with my colleagues Jim Robertson, FAIA, FCSI, and Jenni Rogers, Assoc. AIA, I attended the facility’s ribbon-cutting ceremony this past February 3rd. It was tremendously gratifying to overhear many positive remarks, particularly from the family members. We’re honored to have helped the VA create a home for those who served their country and now require compassionate care in return. Our duty as architects was to provide these men (and a growing number of female veterans in the future) with as supportive, respectful, non-institutional, and rich a setting as possible in which to live their remaining days. Seeing the finished product, I believe we hit the mark.

 

 

That being said, none of us will be able to declare the CLC Expansion (christened “The Lodge” by the VA) a success until at least one and perhaps several more years have passed. It will take time before everyone with a stake in the project can fairly assess its true merit. There are many chapters left to be written in this story, and it will be the caregivers and patients who work and live in “The Lodge” who will write them. As it should be for everybody who cares about a good book, we won’t close the cover on this one quite yet.

A Case Study – Part 6: Modesty

The administration of the VA Roseburg Healthcare System has christened its new Community Living Center Expansion as “The Lodge.” (my photos)

This is the sixth post of a series dedicated to a case study of a single project—the VA Roseburg Healthcare System Community Living Center (CLC) Expansion— designed by Robertson/Sherwood/Architects. Click on “A Case Study” in the Labels list at right for the full series. 

 

Once again, far too much time has elapsed since the last entry in my Case Study series of posts about the Community Living Center Expansion project for the VA Roseburg Healthcare System. Since I wrote Part 5 in August of 2013, construction of the project has progressed in fits and starts (see the section below entitled “Reality Check”). The protracted process and its attendant frustrations have afforded me plenty of time to reflect on its design and how architecture will play a role in helping its future residents enjoy the best lives possible despite their circumstances. The bottom line is this project has reaffirmed my conviction that architects should, first and foremost, design places that embody human concerns and deeply connect with their users. 

 

Central to this conviction is a necessary dose of modesty. By nature, my colleagues at Robertson/Sherwood/Architects and I shy away from architectural bravado. We believe audacity has its place in architecture but we’ve yet to be involved in a project that warranted self-important posturing or bluster. In part this is because the majority of our commissions are in the public sector, where we’re expected to act as stewards of a community’s trust and novelty for its own sake is frowned upon. Mostly though, we understand who it is we are designing for. 

 

Our office isn’t known for a signature style. We don’t attempt to emulate the recognizable work of others, nor do we subscribe to any of the passing “isms.” Instead, we focus upon creating physical conditions that are experientially supportive for people. We bear in mind all that should be considered in design and try to do that well. We avoid bringing preconceptions to our work, preferring instead to draw out good design ideas by determining how the individuals who will encounter, live with, or work in our projects see their world. We also make a point of identifying the strengths and weaknesses of existing places so that our design responses appear appropriate, connected, and in harmony with their historical and physical contexts. 

 

Modesty also presumes speaking in a language most people understand. We don’t see the point of designing in a way that fails to resonate with those our buildings are intended to serve. We choose not to follow the whims of fashion. We’re more than happy to leave the reinvention of the wheel to architects who are more proficient at creating seminal work. There may be occasions suitable for aesthetic and philosophical experimentation but the design of the CLC Expansion project wasn’t one of them. 

 

Accordingly, our design appears familiar and ordinary. We used sloping roofs and brick in conventional ways that echo those of the neighboring, older buildings. The roofs feature generous overhangs that shelter and protect the walls and windows beneath them. We complemented, defined, and captured the spirit of the place by emphasizing connections, respecting its structure, and unifying its parts. We allowed the natural landscape to play a role in the architecture. We treated our design as a participant in and contributor to the larger order of the campus. Inside, we created living spaces we hope will provide generous support for the needs of the users. We developed opportunities for interaction in varied types of spaces. We provided options for retreat by making places that feel defensible and safe, as well as edges and “in-between” spaces from which to observe and engage without necessitating full commitment. 

 

At the same time, we attempted to create an architecture that speaks to universal concerns, such as the arc of life, what it means to dwell upon this earth, and our connectedness with nature. Engaging in such weighty talk may seem pretentious or, dare I say, immodest. On the other hand, it is a means to enriching and adding to the experience of living. In the words of Sir John Summerson, it helps “bring out the values which are latent everywhere in the measured enclosure of space.”(1) 

 

It remains to be seen, but our hope for the CLC Expansion is that its residents and staff will find it to be a suitable response to the VA’s mandate to develop a supportive, patient-centered environment. If we did our job well, the completed project will enhance and most importantly dignify the ordinary lives of veterans burdened with the cruelest of afflictions. 

 

Living Room

 

Reality Check

The process of transforming design concepts into real-life brick and mortar is fraught with perils and pitfalls. Sometimes, it simply isn’t enough to produce a complete and coordinated set of construction documents—you need luck and favorable circumstances on your side as well. Unfortunately, the vicissitudes of public contracting and bidding often conspire against realizing the full promise of good intentions. 

 

Right out of the gate, the CLC Expansion suffered a gut punch: all of the competing bids came in over the project’s $8 million construction budget. Consequently, before awarding the contract for construction, the VA had no choice but to exercise all three of the deductive bid alternates we devised for such an outcome. Each one of the deductive alternates materially impacted the project: 

• Alternate No. 1 – Delete the Pergola: Topped with a clear polycarbonate roof, the pergola would have sheltered residents and staff from rain or snow as they moved between the separate buildings that form the courtyard. Meaningfully, it would also have provided a visible tie to the classical details of the Georgian Revival porticos found on the neighboring WPA-era buildings, and also heightened the courtyard’s allusions to an idyllic arcadia. 
• Alternate No. 2 – Substitute French Door Pairs for the Folding Glass Walls: During periods of favorable weather, the folding glass walls would have erased the barrier between the central courtyard and the living room of each house. The pairs of French doors in their place are much less effective at bringing the outside in and the inside out.
• Alternate No. 3 – Substitute Plastic Laminate for Quartz at Countertops: Nuff said.

Together, the impact of the three alternates wasn’t so acute that they irretrievably compromise our overall design concept. Nevertheless, we grieve for each of them and lament what might have been. 

 

The CLC Expansion viewed from the south through a veil of existing, mature plantings. The medical center's circa 1932 main hospital building is visible on the right-hand side of the photo.

Part 5 of this case study optimistically projected completion of the CLC Expansion last March. It’s now late December, so it’s been nearly two years since it first broke ground in February of 2013. There’s no good reason why a project of this size and type should take so long to build. Workmanship issues have been the biggest factor (necessitating deconstruction and reconstruction of significant building components, such as the siding, soffits, and HVAC ductwork). Inadequate crews during key periods of the construction schedule also played a part. Additionally, frequent turnover of the contractor’s key supervisory personnel throughout the project did not help. The drawn out construction phase has cost Robertson/Sherwood/Architects dearly; there was no way we could anticipate the extra work nor could the VA’s mandated fee limitation assure us adequate compensation. 

 

What are the things I would change if we could do it all over again? The exterior color scheme for one: the gray we used at the courtyard walls is too cool and alien to the surrounding campus. In retrospect, a warmer and brighter scheme would be preferable. Other changes? A shift to a set of more neutral interior color palettes. Additional maneuvering space in the bariatric suites.  A simpler, more direct solution to the problem of routing the patient lift rails from the bedrooms to the bathrooms. Use of newer LED lighting technology. Overall though I’m satisfied with how completely we followed through and realized our original design concept. 

 

*    *    *    *    *    * 

 

The VA Roseburg Healthcare System will officially celebrate acceptance of the project, which it has dubbed “The Lodge,” at a formal ribbon-cutting on February 3, 2015. I’ll compose one final post in the Case Study series sometime following the ribbon-cutting event. I hope to feature better photographs of the completed project and possibly some initial feedback from the VA staff. Ultimately, it’s their opinion that will matter the most and be the true gauge of the project’s success. 

 

Next in the Case Study Series: Denouement

 

(1)   From Summerson’s book Heavenly Mansions.

 

A Case Study – Part 5: Sustainability

One of the two houses at the VA Roseburg Community Living Center Expansion under construction, August 2013 (my photo)

 

This is the fifth post of a series dedicated to a case study of a single project—the VA Roseburg Healthcare System Community Living Center (CLC) Expansion— designed by Robertson/Sherwood/Architects. Click on “A Case Study” in the Labels list at right for the full series.

It’s been far too long (over a year to be precise) since I last posted an entry in my Case Study series. As I chronicled in Part 2, the Community Living Center Expansion project for the VA Roseburg Medical Center has endured more than its share of twists and turns. We completed construction documents in March 2012 but it would not be until last fall that the government solicited bids from a pool of disabled veteran-owned general contractors classified as small business enterprises. Ultimately, the VA awarded the contract to build the CLC Expansion to Glen/Mar Construction (headquartered in Clackamas, OR). Glen/Mar broke ground earlier this year, and construction of the new facility is now in full-swing. If everything continues to proceed smoothly as it has so far, the CLC Expansion will be ready to accept its first residents in March of 2014. 

The VA directed our team to design the CLC Expansion project to comply with the federal Sustainable Design and Energy Reduction Manual for New Construction and use LEED’s Healthcare Rating System as a guideline for documentation and compliance. The reasons include long-term operational savings for the VA, a healthier work and patient environment, and a desire to contribute toward the reduction of greenhouse gases generated by the manufacture and transport of construction products. We were pleased the VA embraced sustainability as an ethos and endorsed LEED HC certification for the project. 

The VA’s mandate to comply with the sustainable design standards only came after we completed an initial schematic-level design. Like the transformative shift toward patient-centered design (as opposed to a focus upon providing for staff efficiency first), our new pursuit of LEED certification for the project necessitated a complete reassessment of design objectives and processes. These included adopting an integrated design process, beginning with a full-team meeting to discuss the federal mandates and set realistic goals for the CLC given the site & project-specific parameters. 

We identified a list of LEED credits as either probable or possible for inclusion into the CLC. The number of targeted points totals more than 50, enough to secure LEED Silver certification. Highlights of the sustainable strategies we incorporated in our design include:

Sustainable Sites:

• Restoration of the site area with native or adaptive vegetation
• Convenient bicycle parking and preferred parking for low-emitting vehicles
• No new parking on site, instead retaining existing parking and only introducing new passenger drop-off and loading zones constructed with pervious pavement
• Limited exterior light pollution
• Outdoor areas of respite for staff and residents
• “Rain gardens” to detain and control all of the impervious stormwater runoff

Water Efficiency:

• Overall reduction of water usage by more than 40%
• Rainwater harvesting to provide water for irrigation and flushing of toilets
• Low flow plumbing fixtures
• Sub-metering to track water usage of various building systems  

Energy and Atmosphere:

• Optimized energy performance 14% more efficient than required by ASHRAE 90.1-2007
• No CFC-based refrigerants
• Low-emitting boilers and water heaters
• Solar hot water heating

Materials and Resources:

• Materials (including furniture and medical furnishings) boasting high recycled content, third party green certification, or regional sourcing
• Materials free of persistent, bioaccumulative, or toxic (PBT) ingredients
• A construction waste management plan

Indoor Environmental Quality:

• Low-emitting materials (including adhesives, sealants, floor coverings, paints and other coatings) with no or low-VOC content
• IAQ procedures during construction and prior to occupancy to maintain air quality
• Acoustical privacy between spaces, especially around resident rooms
• Ease of lighting and thermal systems control
• Outdoor air delivery monitoring
• Access to views and daylighting

The extent to which would could implement aggressive energy-conservation strategies was limited by VA Healthcare System standards for HVAC systems. Specifically, issues regarding infection control and patient thermal comfort trumped aggressive energy-conservation tactics (such as greater reliance upon passive ventilation).

The primary HVAC system is a single variable-volume air handling type providing space cooling, heating, and ventilation air for all spaces. Chilled water piping routed through existing tunnels from the campus’ chiller plant will provide mechanical cooling for the project. Two 500 MBH high-efficiency gas-fired condensing boilers will furnish heating.

The HVAC system groups core staff and common areas into common thermal zones to maintain comfort as appropriate for the space function. By contrast, each patient room will be a dedicated VAV zone.  Airflow to each space will modulate to meet thermal loads yet maintain minimum ventilation requirements set forth in the VA Design Guidelines. All supply, return, and exhaust air will be fully ducted. As a continuously staffed inpatient building, design space conditions for patient care areas will be capable of setpoints from 66-78 deg F but typically maintained in the following operating ranges during all hours: 

• Heating:  68-72 deg F
• Cooling:  72-76 deg F

Central fans at each of the two houses will handle necessary air exhaust; these will be located with convenient access above the ceiling, connected to gable-end louvers. Supply air filtration from the central air handling system will be MERV 14 (90-95%) cartridge media in accordance with VA Design Guidelines. 

The VA investigated procedures for purchasing grid-furnished “green power” for the CLC, but VA standards currently suggest that it is not desirable to do this on a building-by-building basis. We also deemed the initial costs for a photovoltaic system for the project budget to be higher than affordable, but we designed the building structure and electrical system to easily incorporate photovoltaics at a future date. 

Already underway, full building commissioning and measurement of systems, including commissioning of the thermal envelope, will ensure the completed building achieves the projected levels of performance. 

I’m a strong proponent for absolutely minimizing the negative impacts of buildings upon the environment; that being said, perhaps we could have taken greater strides toward making the CLC Expansion a true paragon of sustainability. Objectively, the project will be a good but far from outstanding example of environmentally conscious design. Achieving LEED Silver certification will be an accomplishment but one most would hardly consider remarkable these days. 

I do tend to be wary of obsessively emphasizing green building principles to the exclusion of equally important design concerns. There is a risk of having the tail wag the dog. In the grand scheme of things, how successful is a technically spectacular net-zero energy facility if it otherwise utterly fails to be what all good architecture is? How lasting and significant—how life-affirming and enriching—is a building that is merely an efficient machine? Real architecture has a soul. Sometimes this fact is ignored in a zealous and narrow-minded pursuit of LEED points. 

When we look back several years from now, I’m hopeful our balanced approach to the problem of designing a facility centered upon optimizing the quality of life and respecting the dignity of the VA’s dementia and Alzheimer’s patients will be validated. It’s not my intention to detract from the immense value and importance of green building strategies. Instead, it is to view sustainability as but one of many essential concerns architects must confront on every project. We cannot forget or neglect any of them. 

Next in the Case Study series: Modesty

A Case Study – Part 4: Locus Amoenus

The Course of Empire: The Arcadian or Pastoral State, by Thomas Cole (1834)

This is the fourth post of a series dedicated to a case study of a single project—the VA Roseburg Healthcare System Community Living Center (CLC) Expansion— designed by Robertson/Sherwood/Architects. Click on “A Case Study” in the Labels list at right for the full series.

Serendipity kindles inspiration. Our misgivings for the Community Living Center Expansion site presented to us by the VA prompted the ad hoc search for an alternative. If it weren’t for the patent shortcomings of that initial prospect we might never have stumbled upon the fertile alternative we ultimately selected.

Abounding with potential and anchored by a remarkably large and exotic-looking Persian silk tree, the chosen site for the CLC Expansion offers the promise of paradise. We imagine it as a place of refuge from the processes of time and mortality, even as the depredations of dementia and memory loss exact their toll. It will be a pastoral haven for the aging veterans who will be consigned there, a languid and Arcadian setting for the denouement of their life stories.

Our desire to create a place of refuge (as well as very necessary practical considerations) prompted our principal design response. We arrayed the program components—two “houses” accommodating ten residents each, a gatehouse, and a support wing—around a secure courtyard centered upon the silk tree. As mentioned in Part 3 of this case study, one of our objectives is to symbolically acknowledge life’s trajectory. The silk tree figures prominently in this regard by representing the interconnectedness of all life, its cycles, and the passage of time. The well-defined courtyard likewise relates the earth beneath with the sky above, and earthly existence with cosmic reverence. 

Concept sketch

Throughout history, courtyards have functioned as moderators of climate and safe havens protecting their occupants. In dense, urban settings, enclosed residential courtyards offer direct contact with nature where no other connection is possible. Archetypal courtyards also evolved to stand in as analogs for the natural environment or as microcosms of the universe. In this latter respect they function as mandalas(1), replete with the spiritual and ritual significance traditionally associated with such geometric compositions.

Our courtyard for the CLC Expansion will fulfill these roles. Additionally, we have configured it to provide a hierarchy of places to be: a protective harbor nestled against the house; under the expansive, sheltering boughs of the silk tree; along trellised and open walks, etc. The hierarchy sets up a nested precinct at the hub of which is the magnificent tree. However, the courtyard will not be completely enclosed. Its southeast corner will open toward a vista of the main oval on the VA Roseburg Medical Center campus, providing a visual connection to the larger world.(2)

Fundamentally, we picture the courtyard as a manifestation of the utopian locus amoenus(3). It will be an idyllic landscape in the physical sense as well as a landscape for the mind (transporting one to remote places and times). It will conceptually be a realm for the blessed, an idealized garden with connotations of Eden before the fall. It will be a place where the aging residents feel the sun on their faces and the breeze in their thinning hair. It will be filled with chirping crickets and birds, and redolent with the fragrance of flowering plants. We want it to be regarded as an allegorical landscape and relished as an oasis of comfort and serenity.

According to Wikipedia, the locus amoenus possesses three basic elements: trees, grass, and water. Accordingly, we’re incorporating these elements into our design. To realize our vision, we enlisted the knowledge and skill of Cameron McCarthy Landscape Architecture & Planning, in particular the services of Justin Lanphear, ASLA.

Justin extended the concept of the locus amoenus beyond the courtyard to include the entire setting of which the CLC Expansion will be a part. He dedicated as much attention to the design of the spaces surrounding the new facility as he did the central secure courtyard. 

View looking toward the Community Living Center Expansion project site. Note the mature landscaping (my photo).

Placing the project in the midst of existing buildings and mature trees will create a variety of distinct outdoor zones. Justin assigned names to each of these zones, hinting at their projected character. In addition to the “Secured Courtyard,” these include the “Entry Landscape” and two contemplation gardens:“Woodland Forest” and “Open Forest.”Justin described the specific features of each as part of a narrative which accompanied our Design Development presentation for the project:

ENTRY LANDSCAPE

The Entry Landscape will be formal in character, serving to integrate and accent the new facility. Small flowering accent trees will frame the covered entry walkway. Foundation plantings will consist of deciduous and evergreen natives and native-analogues. Flowering perennials will accent these plantings. 

Seat-walls will line the drop-off zone and entry walk. The landscape flanking the walk will be planted using a combination of flowering perennials, bulbs, and ornamental grasses. 

SECURED COURTYARD

The central concept of the Secure Courtyard is to accommodate a variety of uses and activities (both passive and active) for people confronting the challenges of age, dementia, and Alzheimer’s Disease. Views out from communal living and dining areas are taken into account. Ample opportunities for seating will be included. 

The large existing silk tree in the central courtyard will be protected and preserved. Given the existing condition of the tree, this effort seems warranted. 

Raised vegetable garden planters will provide residents with the opportunity to exercise motor and dexterity skills while indulging in the pleasures of raising herbs and vegetables. 

Areas of lawn will permit supervised exercise or games. 

The walkway between the two houses will be covered by a continuous pergola. 

CONTEMPLATION GARDENS

The underlying motivation for the contemplation gardens is that views out of the patient rooms may often be a patient’s only connection with the outdoor environment. As such, views out of the windows will be framed to provide changing interest through the seasons. 

The Open Forest Contemplation Garden, located at the southwestern corner of the site, will be planted with a variety of native shrubs (both deciduous and evergreen) tolerant to both wet winter and summer drought conditions. The character of this garden will be that of an understory, open forest swale. Basalt boulder accents will reinforce the sense of a wooded, outdoor room. New tree plantings will occur primarily on the opposite (south and west) side of this garden to allow the greatest view potential into the garden from patient room windows. 

The Woodland Forest Contemplation Garden will be located on the north side of the CLC Expansion. This garden will be akin to the Open Forest model but will simulate a shady woodland setting rather than an open swale. Native and adaptive deciduous and coniferous shrubs will be used throughout the area, with deciduous and coniferous trees planted more heavily at the perimeter. 

Site Plan by Cameron McCarthy Landscape Architecture & Planning (click to enlarge)

To this point, I’ve emphasized the site design moves which are most specific to the function and meaning of a Community Living Center devoted to the care of dementia and Alzheimer’s patients. In particular, I’ve described how the Robertson/Sherwood/ Architects team melded an inspiring setting with a solution we believe will resonate on many levels. I should also point out that we looked beyond the immediate site to reinforce the larger order and geometry of the entire VA Roseburg Medical Center campus. The project will continue existing physical patterns and structures, and (we hope) embody the essential and unique spirit of the place.

Because memory care patients live in the moment, our job is to provide them with as many good moments as possible. A goal is to expand the possible range of their experiences by enlarging their frames of reference. If the outdoor spaces for the CLC Expansion project are successful, they will contribute significantly to the well-being of the residents by helping them sense the connections between themselves and all things. 

Inexperienced architects too often make the mistake of relegating design of the landscaping to the status of an afterthought. There was no way this would be the case for the CLC Expansion project. Once we had selected the site, the course the project would take was clear. To paraphrase my former professor, the late Bill Kleinsasser, the design of places for people should not only support use but also richly evoke human response and involvement; that is, provide meaning. Enlisting the power of a place vastly enriches the search for order and meaning among the many constituent systems of which any work of architecture is comprised. We were fortunate to have found inspiration in a providential confluence of program and site. We hope the corresponding design we have generated will be seen as a clear, rich, and meaningful expression of a locus amoenus.

Next in the Case Study Series: Sustainability

(1) A mandala is a concentric diagram that has spiritual and ritual significance in both Buddhism and Hinduism. According to the psychologist David Fontana, its symbolic nature can help one “to access progressively deeper levels of consciousness, ultimately assisting the mediator to experience a mystical sense of oneness with the ultimate unity from which the cosmos in all its manifold forms arises.”

(2) To protect the patients, the “open” portion of the courtyard will be secured with a fence which still allows views to the vista beyond.

(3)  Latin for“pleasant place.”