The Multiple Whole

 

Campbell Memorial Courtyard, Jordan Schnitzer Museum of Art (my photo)

The breadth of knowledge architects must command seemingly grows exponentially with each passing year. Regrettably, the overwhelming magnitude prompts a Faustian bargain: In exchange for a commanding grasp of, say, green building principles, what does the earnest architect sacrifice? If that architect is at all like me, something must give. Certainly, an aspect of architecture I am not willing to surrender is the discipline’s soul: its fundamental duty to help realize places that are generously accommodating, lastingly useful, gracious, stimulating, connected, and if we’re fortunate, poetic. Architecture at its most compelling is a comprehensive pursuit, rather than a narrowly focused one.   

This is a reason why I frequently find myself returning to Bill Kleinsasser’s self-published textbook SYNTHESIS. For me, SYNTHESIS serves as a touchstone by which to measure my commitment to the principles that first attracted me to a life in architecture. Through its various iterations, Bill consistently addressed the broad set of essential considerations that make architecture, architecture. In the following, succinct passage, he discusses the “multiple whole,” a concept I consider central to our perception of a purposeful, multivalent, and eloquent design.       

The Multiple Whole

It is possible and desirable to make systems of spatial organization that allow and evoke multi-use (and multi-meaning) both at any moment and over time. 

Generally supportive places are those which, because they must support many users over their many years of existence, must provide many opportunities for use, for change, and for involvement for those users. This depends upon not only the richness and diversity of their parts, but also their overall organization. 

A “generally supportive” place must give the people who come to it the immediate and lasting impression of goodness and suitability of fit. This depends upon the arrangement of parts as well as the development of parts. The parts must obviously exist and be developed well, but they must also be integrated into a whole. 

But the idea of the whole carries the implication of precision. It does not mean any grouping or bunching of parts. It means the development of minimally dependent, clearly interrelated parts and the development of an organization of parts that can be read many ways. 

The multiple whole depends upon:

• Variety of developed sub-parts and sub-spaces.
• The possibility of understanding (and continuing to understand) the whole, which may depend upon some or all of the following:
• The way parts are joined.
• Having a dominant space (or clear hierarchy).
• Seeing the whole space.
• Pervasive response to place.
• Metaphoric (image) control.
• Traditional shapes and symbols.
• Geometry.
• System of construction.
• Pervasive materials, textures, colors.
• Point of view.

 WK/1981

Architecture Depends

The Canadian government recently relaxed measures that heretofore severely limited cross-border travel with the U.S. Even as a fully vaccinated Canadian citizen, prior to July 5 I would have been subject to a mandatory 14-day quarantine and strict limitations regarding what I could and could not do while in the country. With the newly enacted changes, I am now exempt from the quarantine requirement, which opened the door for me to visit and help care for my ailing mother and father. As I write this, I am with my parents in Vancouver (the suburb of Burnaby, actually) for a 10-day stay, thankful to spend time with them. Given their rapidly declining health, this may be the last visit we all share together. 

I am connecting remotely with my office and working on projects during my stay, but I am also indulging in some leisure time, for which a good book is the perfect accompaniment. The title I brought with me is Architecture Depends, by Jeremy Till, an architect and Pro Vice-Chancellor at the University of the Arts in London. The book was a Christmas gift to myself, one I deferred reading until I had the opportunity to travel north again. 

Thus far, I’ve only read the first two of eleven chapters. Nevertheless, I’ve read enough to be thoroughly engrossed by Jeremy Till’s engaging, entertaining, and accessible writing style. Described by its publisher (the MIT Press) as “polemics and reflections on how to bridge the gap between what architecture actually is and what architects want it to be,” Architecture Depends is a timely manifesto, one worth reading by Till’s peers in academia, students, newly minted graduates of architecture schools, and seasoned professionals alike. I say timely because the book serves to remind us of the messy context within which we create architecture today. Our world is far from perfect, and we cannot allow architects to forget that.  

Till’s underlying thesis is architecture is entirely dependent upon things outside itself, no matter how much practitioners proclaimed its autonomy as a discipline through the centuries. Generations of form-givers have promoted utopian visions sharing a common weakness: a simplistic worldview in which faith is placed in the ability of architecture (that is, one reliant upon a self-referential architectural order) to deliver solutions to society’s ills. This is at once a naïve and arrogant. Our complex world is far from obliging.     

I found many online reviews of Architecture Depends that likewise regard Till’s book as a necessary antidote to the architectural profession’s infatuation with an imagined perfection attainable through the mechanism of design. Here is a sampling: 

• Boldly and elegantly, Architecture Depends asserts that architecture is absolutely dependent upon the “contingent,” difficult, and perverse factors that architects have long tried to ignore in an effort to be pure, self-important, and professional . . . What Till's book achieves is to set out with great clarity the territory in which the debate around future action must take place. (Robert Mull – Architects' Journal)
• A provocative declaration of war on utopia, powered by a fuel rich in social justice and sharp humor. Architects, hide it from your clients and your students—it is an unusual and explosive mixture that produces difficult questions like spores. With this book Jeremy Till raises the starting price on all our discussions of architecture. (Paul Shepheard)
• The insights in this book are inspiring and the writing is refreshingly clear and honest. It's especially useful for reminding you that being a student never ends, whether you're working in the "real world" and have left school far behind or whether you're teaching in one . . . Since this book avoids many of the most common pitfalls in architectural discourse, from wayward theoretical abstraction and confused jargon to compulsive obsession with practical or historical detail, those who like getting stuck in these traps may have an especially hard time working through it. Critics with impossible standards or cynical dispositions may also have trouble appreciating its humbling realism and progressive idealism . . . But for those who are willing to work with the contingencies of life and recognize the dependencies of design, this book can help open up a world of possibility. (Amazon review by bookie24)
• Jeremy Till’s work is rich in examples, sources and snippets of his own life as an architect, all these elements serve the main argument of this book which is rather self-evident: architecture depends, as the title suggests. It is contingent and yet, the profession does all that it can to chip away at that contingency, to erase it completely through discourse and ideology, through the construction of firm black lines around white empty spaces, refined narratives and the edification of professional orders designed for the protection of the territory to which architects cling to, their wish of power and authority over the average citizen . . . He is well aware of the position he takes, acknowledging quite often actually, how his comrades may react to such opinions. (GoodReads review by Chloe)

Till and I share in common a belief architects cannot afford to isolate themselves from the context within which they operate. Any autonomy the profession claims for its discipline is an illusion. As Robert Mull mused in his review of the book, architecture is dependent upon the contingent, the difficult, and the perverse. 

I purchased Architecture Depends intrigued by Till’s premise, further confirming upon initial reading that his treatise is consistent with my beliefs (to the extent I’ve examined the book so far). I realized how simpatico Till and I are with each passing page. And therein lies a problem: Too readily, I found myself nodding in agreement and wanting to add notes in the margins alongside the passages I found especially resonant, as if to validate my own prejudices. I had succumbed to confirmation bias. 

To my credit I do recognize my tendency to favor views that support my own beliefs and values, acknowledge that predisposition, and do work to retain a questioning attitude and a healthful measure of skepticism. That said, I did find the early chapters of Architecture Depends entirely convincing. Till’s opening critique of the architectural establishment is unassailably spot on, notwithstanding any doubts I harbor because of my reflexive concurrence with it.   

I expect I’ll finish reading Architecture Depends during the balance of my stay here in Canada. Because I have so much left to read, I do not know yet whether the book will convincingly present a blueprint for that bridge across the gap between what architecture actually is and what we want it to be. Until I do finish Architecture Depends, my review is contingent, and uncertain, just like Jeremy Till argues architecture itself is.  

Commercial Setbacks Code Amendment

The Eugene City Council meets tomorrow (Monday, July 19) at 5:30 PM to conduct a hearing on the topic of a proposed amendment to Commercial Setback requirements in the Eugene Code. The Planning Commission previously recommended approval of the amended code language. Before voting on the issue, Council members want to hear from citizens with concerns about the revised setback requirements.

For the purposes of the amendment, the setbacks at issue are those associated with the minimum distance a building or other structure must be set back from the property line bordering the public right-of-way. Presently, Section 9.2170 of the Eugene Code (Commercial Zone Development Standards) prescribes no minimum front yard setback in the C-2 (Community Commercial) and C-3 (Major Commercial) zones, whereas as amended they would be 5 feet and 3 feet, respectively. The maximum front yard setback would remain unchanged at 15 feet. Additionally, the amendment would mandate landscaping or “enhanced pedestrian spaces” within the setbacks. The code would include exemptions from these requirements if certain conditions are met.

The work the Planning Division performed in developing the code amendment included convening a focus group last November to discuss the preliminary concepts and reasoning behind them. Teri Harding, Principal Planner with the Eugene Planning Division, asked me to participate and I was happy and honored to do so. The diverse group(1) included representation by developers, architects, landscape architects, planners, realtors, property appraisers, and downtown Eugene stakeholders.

The focus group arrived at some general conclusions:

• The setback amendments should not be the same citywide. Downtown, transit corridors, and other neighborhood centers have different conditions and goals and should not be treated the same. Likewise, the C-2 and C-3 zones should not be treated identically, except in the Downtown Transit Overlay District (as they are now).  
• Street and sidewalk design are equally important as the building interface. The design of the buildings cannot be expected to correct fundamental problems inherent in the design of the streets. The City should focus efforts to ensure the streetscape and sidewalks support vibrant pedestrian environments in the downtown, along key corridors, and within other neighborhood commercial centers.
• Encourage ground floor residential units. Well-designed ground floor residential can help fulfill Eugene’s need for affordable and diverse housing options.
• Strengthen design requirements for financial incentive programs (i.e. MUPTE). Such incentive programs provide the City with leverage to secure better design outcomes.

The participants also agreed when it came to what no one wants to see more of. A bugaboo common to all is the abominable 13^th & Olive student housing development and how it meets the surrounding streets; while the sidewalks surrounding the developments are overly narrow, it is doubtful any tweaking of the setback requirements alone would have spared us from this blight upon downtown. The nature of the setbacks fronting the streets is only one factor in determining a successful pedestrian domain.

13th & Olive

Land use codes are necessary to protect and promote the health, safety, and general welfare of the public. Municipalities constantly revise them as thinking about urban form and the separation of usages (Euclidean zoning) has evolved over the years. Smart growth strategies emphasizing mixed uses, an increase in the range of housing opportunities, and favoring compact growth have led to greater reliance upon form-based codes. A form-based code (which the City’s proposed setback ordinance essentially is) does increase the probability of achieving desirable physical outcomes. Implemented correctly, form-based codes provide a set of clear and reliable design standards. Conversely, there is a risk of creating an overly rigid regulatory condition, one that discourages investment in the local real estate market.

It is prudent to be wary of imperfect planning tools shaped by imperfect, albeit well-intentioned, human beings. The fact architects either chafe at the overly prescriptive nature of form-based codes, or lazily default to reflexive conformance with their requirements doesn’t help. The dynamics of development and the factors that contribute to achieving a livable community will always be far too complex to flawlessly codify and regulate. Regardless, actively specifying the shape of development—as opposed to doing nothing at all—is necessary if we want the right outcome for our built environment. 

While not formally codified, the patterns enumerated by the City of Eugene’s Community Design Handbook provide an eminently accessible set of design principles and guidelines. The guidelines include strategies for using built forms and natural edges to define spaces, create networks of complete streets, enrich the streetscape, design for human scale, and engage the public realm. The City derived these principles and guidelines from proven best practices and examples found here and elsewhere, with the assistance of a diverse group of community champions.(2) Taken together, they do provide a template for urban design excellence.

At the time of the Community Design Handbook’s development, I questioned its reliance upon shallow “motherhood and apple pie” statements that lacked enough specificity to be truly meaningful. My fear was the absence of clear and objective standards would render the document toothless. Would well-meaning developers, architects, and designers interpret its underlying principles in contradictory and conflicting ways if the City of Eugene elected to not formalize the patterns as code amendments? Ultimately, I think boils down to whether any given project’s participants fully embrace the goals of the Handbook.

The proposed amendments to the Eugene Code concerning commercial setbacks may be the most expedient device immediately available to the City’s planners, so their adoption seems presaged. I do understand the necessity of a prescriptive land use ordinance but increasingly, I think a looser, more flexible, and pattern-based approach will prove the more effective means to consistently achieving universally appealing streetscapes. A one-size-fits-all formula ensconced within a prescriptive ordinance is not the answer. Rather than designing prescriptively, we should tackle every design problem holistically, in a balanced fashion tailored to the specifics of each project and site.

I can imagine a copiously hyper-linked electronic version of the Community Design Handbook one day being available. Such a tool would make it easy to go down whatever rabbit hole you need to find concrete strategies for how to “shape public spaces for human comfort, proportions, and intended uses.” The success of every project would thus rely heavily upon the ability of talented architects and designers to synthesize the numerous considerations demanded by the Handbook, as opposed to an uncritical obedience to generic regulations.

*    *    *    *    *    *

If you would like to view and possibly speak at tomorrow’s virtual hearing about the proposed code amendment, look for information on how to participate at the following website just prior to its scheduled time: https://www.eugene-or.gov/3360/Webcasts-and-Meeting-Materials.

(1)    Besides me, the other focus group participants were:

• Claire Barnum, Downtown Eugene, Inc.
• Mike DeLuise, Past Chair Downtown Neighborhood Association, Amazon Corner resident
• Rick Duncan, Duncan & Brown, Inc.
• Stan Honn, Honn Design & Construction
• Colin McArthur, Cameron McCarthy Landscape Architecture & Planning
• Mark Miksis, deChase Miksis
• Steve Ochs, Homes for Good
• Hugh Prichard, Prichard Partners
• John Rowell, Rowell Brokaw Architects
• Rick Satre, The Satre Group
• Stephanie Seubert, Evans Elder Brown & Seubert

 (2)    Those who contributed toward the development of the Community Design Handbook included Eugene residents, business owners, members of the American Society of Landscape Architects, the Home Builders Association of Lane County, the University of Oregon, the Cascadia Green Building Council, and the AIA-Eugene Committee on Local Affairs (CoLA). As a member of CoLA, I assisted with a critical review of the first draft of the handbook in 2016.

Eugene/Architecture/Alphabet: F

 

This is the next in my Eugene/Architecture/Alphabet series of blog posts, the focus of each being a landmark building here in Eugene. Many of these will be familiar to most who live here but there are likely to be a few buildings that are less so. My selection criteria for each will be threefold: 

• The building must be of architectural interest, local importance, or historically significant.
• The building must be extant so you or I can visit it in person.
• Each building’s name will begin with a particular letter of the alphabet, and I must select one (and only one) for each of the twenty-six letters. This is easier said than done for some letters, whereas for other characters there is a surfeit of worthy candidates (so I’ll be discriminating and explain my choice in those instances). 

This week’s selection begins with the letter F, for which my choice is Fenton Hall.(1)

Fenton Hall circa 1906 (photo source:  Division of Special Collections & University Archives, University of Oregon)

Designed by prominent Eugene architect Y. D. Hensill and opened in 1906, Fenton Hall served as the first, dedicated home for the University of Oregon’s library collections (which were previously scattered between several older buildings).

Fenton Hall is the only example of the Italian Renaissance Revival style on the U of O campus. According to the University’s Historic Resource Survey Form, campus architect Ellis Lawrence recommended Renaissance and Colonial styles for use in buildings of secondary importance (though for a long time Fenton Hall was the heart of the University of Oregon), so the building seems to contribute to Lawrence’s plan even though it predates it.

The university sited Fenton on the Old Campus Quad along what became the primary campus pathway (named “Hello Walk’). Initially, the first floor housed the library, a reading room, and related spaces while the second story contained classrooms and faculty offices.

 
South Entry (Fenton Hall (photography by Len Stolfo unless noted otherwise).

The library collection quickly outgrew its original accommodations, necessitating a major expansion. Architect W. C. Knighton designed the addition that now stands to the west of the original building. Interestingly, the addition is steel-framed, whereas the older building is of load-bearing brick. The steel structure directly supports five levels of book stacks within an envelope generally matching the height of the 3-story original structure. Ultimately, its service as the University’s library would be short, as the current Knight Library supplanted Fenton Hall in 1937, after which Fenton Hall was again remodeled to become the Law School. Later, Fenton Hall would become the home of the Mathematics Department, the role it retains today.

 
Detail at main stair guardrail.

The university most recently remodeled Fenton Hall in 2014. As is sometimes the case with an ad hoc series of renovations, the previous work generated a maze of disorganized spaces over time. The ground floor included an awkwardly long and narrow lecture hall (the setting of the infamous fraternity council meeting scene in the 1978 movie Animal House). The upper floors were comprised of small, high-ceiling spaces, arrayed along narrow, meandering hallways. The interiors were dark and far from inviting.

The lecture hall in its original form (still from Animal House). 

The reconfigured lecture hall.

The 2014 project repaired the brick exterior and created a new, south-facing entrance. Gutting and reorganizing the interior provided better adjacencies and circulation systems. A new grand stair, day-lit from above, unifies the entry with the public spaces on the upper floors. The project improved the building’s earthquake resistance and provided the whole building with highly efficient mechanical and electrical systems. A newly inserted elevator gives access to a completely transformed lecture hall. 

The golden section in the detailing of the skylight opening reminds students of the ever-present application of their field of study.

A glass-covered opening at an interior load-bearing wall provides a glimpse of the reinforcing added to resist seismic forces. The renovation applied vibrant colors and math-inspired motifs to transform the old building into a bright new home for the Math Department.  

Fenton Hall serves today as a case in point on how to respectfully extend the life of a fine but aging structure. As the University of Oregon continues to grow, preserving the scale and detail of its older, historic architecture will be essential to retaining the campus’ unique character.

(1)    I could have selected any of several other buildings whose names begin with “F.” These include First Christian Church in downtown Eugene and the massive First Baptist Church on the north edge of town. I chose Fenton Hall because my firm, Robertson/Sherwood/Architects, in collaboration with the late, great Carl Oslund, was responsible for its most recent makeover.

Why Do I Wear Ties?

Just a few of the ties I own.

Neckties have been part of my office wardrobe ever since I left college back in 1983. The wearing of ties matched with dress shirts, slacks, shoes, and a blazer or sport coat by male employees in architecture firms was fairly commonplace then, but dress codes have since relaxed considerably. Casual workplace attire is now the order of the day, and many architects regard ties to be anachronisms. This is especially true here in the laid-back Pacific Northwest. So why do I still wear them? The answer is because it is what feels most natural and necessary to me.

Though I define my typical garb as “business casual,” this definition always includes sporting a tie. I am most certainly not a clothes horse, and I suspect I routinely commit crimes against fashion, but I do believe in dressing appropriately. In the business world, wearing a tie remains a mark of professionalism.

The use of neckwear is said to have its origins in 17th century Europe, when Croatian mercenaries serving in France wore colorful knotted neckerchiefs to signal their rank and alliances. King Louis XIV admired them so much, he began wearing similar neckerchiefs as a mark of his status. Ties soon superseded the ruff as an emblem of the wealthy and the aristocracy. The purpose of both types of accessories was largely to function as a decorative symbol rather than to serve a practical purpose. That said, we should not dismiss the importance of this decorative or aesthetic function.

Today, reasons for conformity aside, a motivation for a man to wear a tie is because he believes a carefully selected necktie enhances his appearance or career prospects. He may wear a tie to project confidence—certainly a reason why I do. It helps that the vertical line of a tie emphasizes your body’s symmetry and directs the focus of others towards your face. That vertical line also makes you look taller, a definite plus for someone like me who is on the short side of average height. Ties are an acceptable means for men to accessorize business clothing within a convention that otherwise favors conservative styling.

A much younger me (on the far left) with the other members of the Urban Innovations Group in 1987. That's Charles W. Moore seated in front. Most of the guys are wearing ties.

Ties can elevate the culture of a workplace. This may even be true in architecture offices, where their use has most definitely become optional. In a way, wearing a tie is counter-cultural amongst architects. Maybe I stand out because I am among the few who still chooses to always wear one. Wearing a tie doesn’t necessarily imply you are trying to fit into a box prescribed by the expectations of others. If anything, my profession may be guilty of its own pernicious conformism, one that favors apparel signaling a self-aware creative culture. Being fashionably hip is most definitely something I am not, and not something I dare attempt now. At this point in my life, I am who I am.

Look at this list of famous contemporary architects at archute.com (click the link). Of the forty architects on this list, only David Childs, Ken Yeang, Sir Norman Foster, and Robert Stern are pictured wearing long neckties. The rest are not, mostly sharing a common (and predictable) penchant for black or charcoal gray shirts, jackets, and turtlenecks (Sir Richard Rogers being a notably colorful exception). Interestingly, none of these architects is wearing bow ties, which are memorably associated with some even more famous architects (among them Le Corbusier, Philip Johnson, Walter Gropius, and Louis Kahn).(1)

The modern practice of wearing conservative neckties persists in certain fields, such as finance, law, and business consultancies. Generally, men’s ties have steadily been going out of style and their importance diminishing in the workplace. It’s conceivable they may one day disappear altogether as a staple in every man’s wardrobe. In my opinion if this occurs it will be a shame.

Perhaps it is a sign of my insecurity and doubting of my abilities, but I irrationally fear not wearing a tie lessens how others perceive me as a professional. The fact is I feel naked when I choose not to wear a tie while at work. 

(1)    The popularity of bow ties with architects is attributed by many to the time before computer-aided drafting when we all used to stand at our tables, drawing with pencils and pen & ink. The shortcomings of long neckties were obvious. I dealt with the problem by tucking my tie between a set of buttons above the level of the drafting table into my shirt.