Lately my neck of the woods has been construction central. Good construction, though, which has been in the plans for almost a decade. The city is installing its next light rail line. It will be the first connecting route for southeast Portland. I may actually be able to use this wonderful mass transit system on a regular basis in the future.

I expect the line has been delayed because it is tied in with a complete overhaul of the eastside’s primary east-west connection bridge, Burnside, which in and if itself has required a complete overhaul of the aging sewer system that runs beneath the street. The corresponding East Burnside improvements are also extensive, turning the street into a one-way couplet and removing one of the more harsh intersections in the area. I am glad for all of the improvements, even if it means my sense of mobility is impaired while virtually all the routes available to me remain in dismal states of construction and repair.

I am glad for the progress this massive project shows, but I am not convinced all improvements to East Burnside will really be improvements. City officials have turned several blocks closest to the river into one-way couplets. My urban design training has taught me to avoid these car-friendly traffic movers at all costs in favor of two-way streets, which by design slow traffic. This is not logically the best way to move large amounts of traffic, but it does encourage drivers to be more aware of where and what they are driving through. Perhaps, it is argued, they will take more notice of the biker in the road, or the floral shop on the corner. In other words, they recognize the place as a neighborhood, not a road. A neighborhood they may patronize later. And the East Burnside neighborhood, with its central location in the city, could use this sort of support.

The one-way street changes are currently under construction, so this may be a mute point. I rode my bike through the new western couplet and it impressed me despite my academic protests. It is only two lanes wide and actually gives more of a neighborhood feel than the original 5-lane Burnside. However, their treatment of the return to the old road and the bridge is a disaster waiting to happen. It forces two lanes of traffic and a narrower-than-usual bike lane to go through a series of 90-degree turns to get back to western lanes of the bridge. I understand the turns were a result of lack of space, but while going through the bike lane, I felt it nearly impossible to both keep my bike within my lane and go a safe speed while traffic whizzed by my left. It was quite unnerving. What really gets me, though, is that it seems an easy fix. Rather than separating bike and pedestrian, the sidewalk could be extended to hold both as in the nearby Hawthorne Bridge, which is arguably the most biked bridge in the city and perhaps the country. Why that was not done here to begin with truly escapes me. Hopefully someone doesn’t lose their life for what was most likely a budget concern.

Midthesis.

That is the major qualification to my life right now.  I have spent one term in school designing thus far, and now I will spend another refining.  To spend 20 weeks on a project that culminates your learning for the past 5.5 years of school is a very daunting task.  I constantly feel as though my design decisions should be faster, simpler, better- and perhaps they are compared to even two years ago, but they are still simply slow in my mind.  As a result I have definitely been losing myself in this project in an attempt to end my school years on a high note.

The project is one I would have not expected myself to choose, but at the same time it fits the slant of my scholastic career thus far.  My studio professor was concerned with the redevelopment plans for an extension to his neighborhood here in Portland, and led my studio for the first four weeks to develop a lower density alternative (sort of a Brooklyn versus Manhattan scenario).  After working for eight months in an urban design firm, I was looking forward to this part of the project, and I felt the design I created was fairly well done.  I wanted to be far-reaching  in my focus, and as a result I concentrated heavily on reorganizing the transportation hierarchy in order to grow this small neighborhood into a cohesive piece of northwest Portland.  I was fairly heavy-handed with the street grid, restoring it whenever possible, moving freeway off-ramps to better connect with arterial routes that had transformed since the freeway’s construction in the 1960’s, and giving over much more space to the pedestrian and bike.  I believe it is these elements that encourage neighborhoods over any other-the neighborhood will automatically thrive if it is walkable and bikable.  This element is particularly important in Portland, where many such neighborhoods already exist and must compete with one another for residents in order to continue to thrive.  Afer establishing my vision for the tranportation grid of the neighborhood, my designation of services and block development was much less forceful.  Here I favored allowing the neighborhood to grow itself organically over time rather than in a rigid, prescribed fashion.  I did designate some streets as retail (an extension of what has already developed in this area), and these streets are also treated differently within the transportation hierarchy compared to nieghborhood streets. I also created a central plaza along this retail extension that interrupts the restored street grid and establishes a center to the neighborhood between two major parks and aerterial routes with some major retail and community activities to occur around it.

Other than these strong moves, I only suggested small pocket activities that could be scattered throughout the neighborhood and therefore  easily accessible to all.  These pockets of activities included small parks, community gardens, and community services such as libraries, schools and rec centers.  One of my reviewers called this strategy shockingly “laissez faire,” but I think it would be an interesting plan to implement, particularly for a neighborhood that has a history of good organic growth.  In fact, it is potentially more unwise to try to overdirect growth in such circumstances, a move that could interrupt the good growth patterns the neighborhood has already established.

After spending four to five weeks on this element, we switched into designing buildings for the rest of the studio.  We are all architecture majors in the studio, after all.  For this portion of the project, we are each developing a building scheme of our choosing that is appropriate to our urban design visions for the neighborhood extension.  Here is where I surprised myself- rather than choosing a commercial or community building to round out my portfolio (which had been my goal upon entering my final project), I chose a housing complex.  It is still a larger scale than most of the single family to small multi-family development projects that currently dominate my portfolio, but it is still housing.  Apparently I love the subject, which, of course, I already know I do. I find places we live, our homes, to be of the utmost importance in our emotional states, and therefore some of the most important and meaningful architectural spaces that we can design.  Which translates to difficult, which translates to fun.  So after a short debate with myself, I decided why not go with something you would love to design and have some pre-existing experience with?  It worked for my undergraduate final project (a surf “shack” at a time when I was throughly in love with surf culture and had lived with a surfing romate for two years), so it could work for my thesis.

I chose to design a cohousing apartment complex right on my new plaza, sort of a beacon of community to this newly established extension.  For those of you who are not familiar with the term, cohousing is “community housing.”  It is not a commune, although it does have a strong community association and shared community spaces that the members are encouraged, and sometimes required to use.  Each resident still gets their own private apartment, although its size is somewhat reduced because of the plethora of community spaces available.  My professor compares it to European apartment living.  The ideals behind every cohousing community include a strong sense of community with each member providing support and friendship to eachother (much like an extended family) and the encouragement of diversity in all its forms. These ideals line up with my vision for the neighborhood, so I thought it an appropriate “catalyst” project for the neighborhood center.  It is not a living situation for everyone, but I think the neighborhood I have envisioned would benefit greatly from such a beacon in their community.

Back in 2003, a group of suburban experts got together and created a little documentary called The End of Suburbia. Like any movie with the word “End” in the title, it’s your typical doomsday call, suggesting the forthcoming oil peak will cause the end of the American way of life. Normally I avoid these types of movies due to their depressing subject lines and the lack of solutions they set forth. This movie does not break the doomsday mold at all, but the information it does give, from historians and authors that take up a significant portion of my bookshelf, makes it worth seeing. And besides, I do believe that discussing the cause can lead to better solutions.

The movie is basically a history lesson. It follows the rise of the suburbs as a movement to get away from industrialized factory cities, and its heavy subsidization by an energy industry looking to increase its product demand. The film then skips to the future, and the looming problem of what happens when the cheapest and most plentiful energy source- oil- runs out. This is an issue made all the more pressing, as their experts point out, by the expected world peak around 2010. There is no known source of alternative energy that can be produced cheaply on the scale that our lifestyles require in such a short amount of time, and most still rely upon oil in some way for their production. In other words, as we are already maxing out on our oil, we have no choice to curb our energy usage with the forthcoming drop in supply. And, as the experts in the documentary so blatantly pointed out, few people know or understand the chaos this will cause, and even less have prepared for it.

In the five years since this documentary appeared, more people may be aware of the oil peak, but very little preparation has been occurring. And now, the issue is compounded with a mismanaged financial sector, potentially leaving no excess in which to build our way out of the looming energy crisis. The doomsday sentimentality of the documentary may not be far off, as our lifestyles are already showing the toll of rising energy costs, and the dark future the movie predicts is looming ever closer.

It would have been nice for the documentary to offer some hope for the future as far as some sort of solution. The experts do touch lightly but unenthusiastically upon the ideas of New Urbanism and its emphasis of small, self-supporting clustered development- sort of like the old main street style of life as a solution. However, in general the film concentrates too much upon the movement’s dismissal as being “too historical” for modern life. Instead the last few minutes of the film focus upon a portrayal of the complete abandonment of the suburbs. If this were to happen, if people literally left the suburbs to rot in the countryside and all moved back to the city, we would have complete and utter chaos. Like the rise of the industrial city, the surge of the masses to the post-oil city would cause massive infrastructure and humanitarian problems. Slums and crime would skyrocket. There also becomes an issue of food production- cities have very, very large footprints, and cost profound amounts of energy in order to sustain them. Abandoning the suburbs entirely is a very catastrophic idea, one that would cost us more than it is worth.

The best solution is that of the walkable neighborhoods promoted by New Urbanism. Perhaps it is a historical model, but historically our energy use was much lower and these sorts of local clusters proved successful networks within those times. It would be quite easy to retrofit many existing suburban neighborhoods with such a center, and then use mass transit to connect the centers together.

Successful cities already work in this way. Cities are essentially many clusters within close proximity of each other- a downtown district, employment hubs, university districts, bordering housing districts- each with the ability to function independently but through cohabitation, these clusters increase their potential. Granted, the distances covered by suburbs are much greater, but if we simply convert our suburbs to independent infrastructures centered around mass transit hubs that allow for easy travel inbetween, we can somewhat “save” our way of life by simply weaving them into a more successful version of the metropolises that they already strive to be. We may not be able to convert each and every suburb, but we can strategically choose places that will be beneficial for everyone in the long run, and allow for an easier transition into the America of the future.

The End of Suburbia is a fantastic movie in the respect that it acts as a wake-up call to the pending problem of the oil peak and the effect it will have on our American lifestyles. However, it could have done itself some good by proposing some more concrete solutions for its convertees to use in working towards a better future. I have hope that some of the thoughts upon solutions that I offered here are covered in the documentary’s sequel- “Escape from Suburbia,” which was released last year. I’ll have to watch and find out. In the meantime, I do encourage people to sit and watch this 52 minute documentary- just remember to take it with a grain of salt.

I was walking down the street near my house one beautiful day, lost in thought.  At the time, I was marveling at the beauty of the brightly colored turn-of-the-century homes that fill my neighborhood when my attention was caught by the juxtaposition of some brand new infill.  This new house was just as nice as the older homes on the street, quite well done with obvious ties to some of the more prestigious local firms. I would safely categorize it into the “successful infill” category in my architectural file.  Yet, despite its overall success, I still have one slight complaint to make, a point I would like to call to attention as a plea to my fellow architects.

It is an absolute necessity to make a good front porch.

On all of the older houses surrounding the new piece of infill, large, comfortable, and obviously well-used front porches existed.  On the new home, a small, harsh platform had been tacked on to the front of the dwelling, and looked as though it had never been used.  Not even a deckchair had been placed upon it.  Upon noticing this fact the otherwise beautifully designed dwelling immediately went on my personal “uninhabitable” list.  Perhaps the home would not have made this list if it had not been so surrounded by successful front porches, but as it was, I could not help but compare. Plus I knew that if I ever actually lived there, I would daily be jealous of my neighbor’s porches.

It is not that contemporary architects do not know how to make good front porches.  The criteria for the development of outdoor spaces, like indoor spaces, is well-taught in the architectural curriculum.  Even so, it seems to be a modern trend to overlook the importance of the front porch.  Instead the porch is treated it as an afterthought, as it was in this particular new home.  It is added, and some of the design necessities met, but not all, and as a result, the porches fail. 

Good porches incorporate thoughtful location/orientation, sizing, separation, and sight lines.  It takes all of these criteria, not just some, to create a successful space that will be utilized by its inhabitants.  Older homes always have good porches, most likely due to the need of cool, well-lit spaces in times before electricity and its sibling, air-conditioning.   These spaces are large enough to comfortably sit multiple people, like a living room.  Successful porches, in fact, are literally outdoor living rooms.  Like other living spaces, they are oriented to provide the best light and views.  They are often sheltered from the elements by roofs, and elevated off the ground.  Both of these architectural moves separate the space from the street, thus providing its occupants with a sort of transparent shield.  Everyone, both porch and street dwellers, are still seen but fail to interact “on common ground,” thus providing privacy for both parties. Even without a roof or a raised platform, porches are provided with other means of separation, such as fences or vegetation.  Often, many of these moves are employed at once, in endless variety.  Yet sight lines, particularly with the street, are always maintained.  These sight lines enliven the room, providing it with ever-changing scenery, like a television.  Thus, with these criteria met, a successful porch arises.

With the rise of modern amenities, successful porches are less of a necessity than they have been historically.  Yet their necessity in the creation of a vital street has never disappeared.  Successful, occupied porches extend the warmth and vitality of the home onto the street, thus creating a warm and vital neighborhoods, places where people want to be.  Successful neighborhoods then create vibrant towns and cities, which contribute to successful states, and so on.  When you think about it, so much of the success of our space depends upon the public front we put on our private spaces, such as porches.  And somehow, afterthoughts just never cut it.

Yesterday I was riding around Portland with a friend when I commented upon the large number of homes for sale around us.  My friend, who is currently looking to purchase, explained to me how homeowners are refusing to acknowledge the market depression and still advertising their homes for the same prices they would have pulled a year ago.  Hence why so many were for sale- the typical number go on the market, and then stay on the market due to overpricing.  So when the next round go for sale, they join an already overpopulated market, making my short ride through the city look as though the place was turning into a ghost town.

The amount of homes available within the city certainly alarmed me.  I began to wonder how the suburbs were faring, if this was the state of decent neighborhoods within one of the most desirable U.S. cities.   I imagined whole new suburbs appearing by these massive construction corporations who cannot afford to stop building sitting there and rotting due to lack of clientele.  My friend joked it was the turn of reverse gentrification, with the suburbs now becoming the place for squatters and crime.

Although it was meant as a joke, the comment made an impression on my mind.  Reverse gentrification, as she put it, has already started happening in quite a few cities since the nineties.  The yuppies are purchasing cheap parcels in downtown, fixing them up, and moving in.  The poor get pushed out, and currently there is little thought or effort to figure out where these multitudes go.  In Portland, where virtually all neighborhoods have been gentrified, the “trouble areas” literally have moved to the suburbs.

It will be strange to see the problems that will arise.  The suburbs are not built for people without plenty of spare cash.  They require a significant amount of gas money in order to drive to work, the grocery store, entertainment.  Those who cannot drive, namely youth, already suffer from lack of stimulation, often turning to petty crime in their idleness.  Once these become the homes of multitudes without the cash to constantly fill up their gas tanks, what will happen?  Will the class divide become literal as the rich have no need whatsoever to venture into the outer lands of the poor? Or will many choose to refuse the suburbs, staying within the cities as homeless?

The gentrification of cities is currently a celebrated subject.  It has made inner cities vibrant again.  But when revitalization fails to strike a balance with all the social classes, I wonder what its future holds.

I recently traveled down to San Diego and completed my first venture into Southern California culture. It was truly everything I expected: palm trees, beaches, freeways, massive malls, and plenty of bleached blonde hair.
I have to admit, though, despite the many prominent building achievements by master architects within the area and a smattering of historical spanish colonial, I still found the look (and corresponding vibe) of the city and its suburbs to be very bland, particularly downtown. Never in my wanderings have I felt so completely emmersed in the physical environment of Anytown, America, for so much of the time. The few remnants of natural beauty within the area were much more enticing, and I spent the majority of my time straining to see that sole identifying factor of the area. A sighting of a single desert tree against the hazy skyline truly was spectacular, if a little sad in its rarity.

The freeways, on the other hand, quickly proved themselves to be the star of my trip. The complexity of the system that serves the city was incredible- 10-lane highways, constant merging and switching lanes, exits that serve a multitude of city streets and other freeways, bridges over bridges, all for miles on end. I don’t think I have ever missed as many turns or been as confused as a driver. Each exit dropped you in a different area on town, and it was often easier to get back on the freeway than to drive down the city grid the mile or so to the next destination. The inbetween was typically uninteresting strip sprawl anyway. The system, and the spot destination style of life it creates, was indeed impressive- the full embodiment of the American car-driven lifestyle. Fascinating (and exhilerating) even if bad for the environment.

Urban design theory in the 21st century shuns the lifestyle of the personal car, but it does little for discussing how to take thriving places such as San Diego and truly transforming it into a city where cars aren’t needed. Instead, the theory is only really applied to new construction, often located off the exits of the freeway systems. Even if mass transportation measures are considered and implemented in existing cities, they can be more hassle, and more expensive, than driving. Unless mass transportation is coupled with, I hate to say it, making cities less drivable and parkable, Americans will never abandon their cars. And despite how beautfully impressive freeways systems such as San Diego’s can be, they still do little for us in the long run compared to walkable cities with lower pollution.