Capitol Ideas

I’m back in the Scenic City and in a considerably better mood. I will say I’m a bit disappointed though- as soon as I leave town, it’s a party: Creative Placemaking roundtable, the Project Pop-up VIP, Hackanooga, people dry-humping at the Riverfront. Sorry to miss all that, but I’m back for a few weeks so I’ll try to catch up. This one has naught to do with Chattanooga specifically, and I offer apologies for that.

Last week my client and I had a couple of free hours in Des Moines between meetings. I saw in the distance a golden dome, surmised that it was the state capitol building and suggested that we take a walk. While I’m still partial to a building on Goat Hill, the Iowa State Capitol is pretty impressive. My client correctly observed “they sure don’t build ‘em like this anymore”. Indeed. There once was a time when buildings were constructed with a care and purpose to embody the spirit of the institutions they housed. In this case, this state building was nothing less than the physical expression of society, community, inalienable rights, and democracy. Consider the vast majority of state buildings constructed within the past 50 years, do any of those concepts pop into mind? (The adjectives that pop into my mind when considering the State building on MLKing are anonymity, frugality, and indifference.)

I love Modern architecture, but I can't hate on this....

As I stood under the golden dome of Iowa’s Capitol, I thought of Stuart Brand’s book How Building’s Learn. The basic premise of his book is that buildings should never be “finished” and should be in continual state of alteration and adaptation. Brand makes some very good points in the book, and I agree with a great deal of what he has to say. In 1994, when he released the book, he went on a tour to support it- one of his stops was in Albuquerque at the UNM School of Architecture. As you may have suspected, as an undergrad I was not a likely attendee at school lectures unless required by one of my professors. This, however, was an exception. At that point in my academic career, I was still working on becoming an architect but the disillusionment that would eventually make me jump that track had taken hold. How Buildings Learn helped me bring into focus some of the issues I was struggling with. Mr. Brand was a rock-star in my eyes and I was relishing the opportunity of watching him rip my professors a new one.

As I recall, he did proceed to pillory both the profession of architecture and its academic root. My memories from the event are hazy, save for a point that one of the professors made. In his book, Brand uses the Metropolitan Cathedral proposal by Boullee as an example to show that the architect “wanted people awed, tiny and powerless before the magnificence of the architect’s achievement.” During the discussion portion of the lecture, one of the professors (can’t remember who, aside from the fact that she was female) called him out on his assertion. Her point was that it was not the architect’s achievement that was the object of marvel- it was, in this case, God. She made the point that buildings at their best have the ability to express immeasurable concepts and to evoke emotion- based on the purpose of the structure. If an architect is designing a place to worship God, is it not appropriate to design in a way that evokes emotions of awe? If one designs a bank, is it not appropriate to try to evoke feelings of stability and conservatism? If one designs a public space, is it not appropriate to evoke and preserve the spirits of openness, inclusiveness, and democracy?

Tell me Stuart, should this space be designed for
any other purpose than serving as the heart of Iowa?
Perhaps some buildings teach instead of learn.

I strongly disagree with the view that every building needs to “learn” and should be able to accommodate any use or change of use in its lifetime. I am wary of one-size-fits-all solutions that apply across the board with no consideration for context. I think that a city built of base, vernacular structures that are in constant flux and that have no ability to evoke emotion is a depressing concept to consider. The development of an architecture that is preoccupied with a constant, hyper-functionality is an interesting concept, however, there are elements of architecture that operate on higher level than the pragmatic. All due respect to Mr. Brand, I think it is perfectly acceptable for a building to be “finished”, maintained and preserved instead of being constantly amended- especially if the building embodies something more than the material it comprises. Architecture has meaning- it represents more than simply meeting our need for shelter and desire for storage. Buildings can rise above being places to store our stuff; they can speak to our souls.

The trip to the Iowa State Capitol was an unexpected treat- I was not anticipating being moved by a building during a lunch break. However, the deliberate placement of limestone, sandstone, granite, gold leaf, wood, and copper made me feel something. The value of architects is their ability to make us feel and to provide us with shared experience. A city full of buildings that make us feel something, and that create experiences we can all share and value should be our goal.

Looks Like Someone Has A Case of the Mondays

As you will see, I’m a bit cranky today. My apologies, but from time to time I have to vent my spleen.  The blog would be (even more) boring if I wrote only about collective conscience and civic will every week. This post is actually a watered down, edited version of a blinder I wrote this morning (it was really quite good and very funny, but in that version I named names and I’m not getting down like that). That said, there is still foul language and reference to dog feces in this version, so I suggest that the timid turn back now (maybe go here instead). Please note that I did my level best to stay away from the juvenile dog excrement analogy, however, the resemblance was just to strong for my adolescent brain to overcome. You have been warned.

The reason that I’m on one is that I have been shaken back to reality concerning the current state of affairs downtown. The two most-read posts on this blog were very early ones on The Declining Standard of Downtown Building. I was not in a very good mood when I wrote those either, but it appears that I lost the fire in my belly and moved on to write about other concepts. Although I know better, it was as if the community recognition of how bad those buildings were would a put a stop to it happening again.  It has just hit me like a ton of hot wings that while we have been singing kum-ba-ya around the Urban Design Challenge campfire*, not a damned thing has changed in the “real world”. This realization was brought on by a couple of specific projects-I can be explicit about one, for the other I will generalize.

For the first, we need look no further than the epicenter of downtown sub-urbanized architecture- Market and 4th. As we all know, Chili's set the bar low and established the first sub-urban building model in downtown since we began our comeback in the 1980’s. Applebee’s set the bar even lower by moving across the street and showing their ass to those entering downtown from our most prominent Riverfront gateway. We are now the proud new recipients of a building so sub-urban that it makes those two P’s-O-S look great.

I will admit that this one caught me off guard. I have noticed on-going construction at the site for some time. I was indeed happy about it since the building had not been well used since the Barber College left. It appeared to me that the crews were meticulously removing the homemade crap that had been installed and were rehabbing with solid, durable materials. If I had my druthers, that site would feature a 3-story building, however, I have no problem with the reuse of a shorter existing historic structure as it is. In short, it appeared to me that they were doing it right and bringing an old building back to life. Then, I happened by one day after the façade had been put up.

Add this to the canon of buildings that will undo downtown.

Have you seen the piece of shit on Market Street? I don’t mean shit as a pejorative term, I mean it in a descriptive way. I’m referring to the stylized, inverted piece of coiled-up dog feces that is the dominant feature of the Noodles façade. It is a prodigious pile and one that a Clifford-sized canine somewhere must be very proud of.

What’s wrong with it ?  (note: this is not an exhaustive list, but will suffice for now):
-Context- it does not respond to its physical or historical conditions in any way.
-Materiality- the EIFS is a cheap material that does not respect the fact that downtown buildings are typically built of durable materials such as brick, stone, or concrete (see context). The wood of the box column out front only references the bad building next to it. 

-Authenticity- it has none. This is made doubly aggravating by the fact that a quick Google image search shows that the company is not averse to using different building types for different situations. The parapet is in no way functional and serves only as a marketing element. In no way does the building speak of Chattanooga or of urbanity (see context).

-Quality- it appears that most of the construction was done in a quality way until the time came to put a face on it. The EIFS looks cheap (it is) and the parapet is essentially a 2D signage element that looks like it might come down with a solid wind (c’mon solid wind).

I'm all for exposed structure, but this is awful.

Noodles & Co.  has dropped a deuce on us. By their actions they have said “Chattanooga, we like you enough to be here, but maintaining our brand and identity is more important than the quality of your downtown…now give us your money”. I won’t. As a slightly right leaning Southerner, I have a solid private property rights streak running through me. I do respect their right to build as they see fit on their site. The flip side of that coin, however, is my right to identify their error, write about it, and to not patronize their establishment. I would not eat there if Bear Bryant came back from the dead to personally cook me the greatest noodle dish ever devised (and I have great love for both Bear and Noodle dishes). In the immortal words of Trent from Swingers "I’m outta here! I’m not eating here… I wouldn’t eat here… I would never eat here anyway! "

The second thing that has me depressed is the realization that the circle isn’t as strong as I thought. It is disappointing to see maladroit interventions when one would think that the designers would know better. It’s perplexing to hear people lament the state of Buffalo Wild Wing’s or Applebee’s, then see them contribute to work that exhibits a similar lack of contextual sensitivity. I’m not passing judgment though; I understand the pressure to create your own context when paying clients are involved.

The fact that the community is talking about urban design issues again is fantastic. While we are talking, however, downtown continues to exhibit a declining standard of building. Will the forthcoming downtown design guidelines help? Maybe, but from what I have heard to this point, they may do as much harm as good. Unfortunately, in our country there is no clean solution to good urban design. Legislating design is nigh upon impossible, depending on designers to convince their clients to do the right thing is hit and miss (assuming that the designers even know the right thing to begin with), and the persuasion/peer pressure route is a tough road to hoe. I do not paint a pretty picture, but the fact is, it's not all roses on the downtown scene.

With that off my chest,  I’m off to Iowa (to deal with a totally different set of problems). Hopefully, I'll return in a better mood. During my absence, please don’t eat at Noodles and please design like it matters.

*I had a blast camping with everyone! That is definitely something we needed, let’s get together again some time soon.

What the Hell is a Spinjitzu?

Friends, I hope you all had a fun, restful and safe holiday weekend. As for me, the hits just keep on coming: football season is back, Bama mauled Michigan (watched it once live and twice on replay), Birmingham City got their first win, and the boys got to spend some quality time with their grandparents- one with the yankee side of the family in New York, and one with my folks in God’s Own Alabama. In other very exciting Rushing news, I became an uncle again with the birth of Luke Larkin Rushing this past Friday. Fortunately for the child, he appears to favor his mother and not his father. Lastly, In an effort to further connect with own progeny, this weekend I immersed myself in the lore of their latest obsession- Ninjago: Masters of Spinjitzu. My ego has taken a bit of dent as after two days of studying plot lines and characters I’m still not sure I really get it. OK, vacation over, back to business…

A couple of weeks ago, I had occasion to visit an office in Miller Plaza. I noticed that construction in the corner retail space on Market was in full-swing in preparation for a new restaurant. What caught my eye was that work was being performed in the arcade- they had just started so it was difficult to tell what their intent was. (it ended up being a temporary construction barrier). I texted a buddy that I really hoped that the integrity of the arcade was not going to be compromised. His reply was “Don’t be afraid of change…its not sacred”. That brought me back to earth and calmed my nerves a bit because it’s just a building, it’s not sacred, right? That thought stuck with me for a while and I couldn’t shake it. I eventually figured out why- it’s because my esteemed friend was wrong. In my estimation, the place is sacred.

Before we go any further: I have no reason to believe that the space will be anything other than excellent. I know the team of folks involved and they are all top-shelf professionals- they will do a great job. This post is no way a commentary on their work. As for my friend who said it wasn’t “sacred”, my apologies to him for taking his text out of context as an excuse for a blog post.

It should go without saying that different people have reverence for different things and concepts. In this instance, as a Chattanoogan, a downtowner, and a lover of architecture and design, Miller Plaza is sacred ground to me. As with most sacred things, it is not necessarily the object that is precious, it is the more intangible qualities, concepts and history that it represents that are important. Miller Plaza and the Waterhouse Pavilion are fantastically designed pieces of architecture that are well constructed. It is not, however, the brick, the stone, the roofline or the landscaping that set the place apart. This is one of the rare works of the profession that has transcended its material and formal aspects to become the embodiment of a higher concept.

The grim condition of our downtown in the late 70’s and early 80s is well documented. Also well documented is the fact that at the same time and number of efforts were launched to revive the city. In 1982, UTK architecture students at the Design Studio began investigating urban design interventions in the center of the city to reestablish a “heart” for downtown. On a simultaneous track, an effort was afoot to expand Miller Park north, across MLKing Boulevard. The work of the students and the observations of the Studio convinced decision-makers that the expansion needed to be a hardscaped plaza, rather than another grassy lawn. In his speech at the AIA conference earlier this summer, Rick Montague recalled the Design Studio Director’s thoughts: “You don’t want to build more park at the city’s heart; it will become a hole in the urban fabric. It wants to be a plaza – not a park – with a hard, urban edge, and a gateway to the M. L. King district positioned precisely where the historic grid of the city meets the modern grid. The whole district should be built under design guidelines as a room in the city, using a vocabulary to be taken from the outstanding historic structures – the Volunteer State Life Building and the Federal Courts and Post Office. It will become a vibrant heart of the city.”

Design Guidelines were indeed crafted and the work was performed by Koetter, Kim & Associates in conjunction with the Design Studio. Koetter, Kim is a Boston firm led by Fred Koetter, the former Dean of Yale’s architecture school and co-author of the excellent book Collage City. As a proof of concept exercise, five national and international architecture firms were engaged to interpret the guidelines and provide a vision for what the district could become- Koetter, Kim and Associates, Skidmore Owings and Merril, Peterson Litternberg, Tuck Hinton Everton, and Robert Seals. The work was written about in the New York Times and the guidelines received a number of awards including a Progressive Architecture citation (a big deal). This project vaulted sleepy ole downtown Chattanooga into the national spotlight of architecture and urbanism.

The work put us on the map in the architecture world, but it served a greater purpose. The philosophy behind the design and the quality of the work expressed the aspirations of the community. If that project were undertaken today, I’m not sure most people would bat an eye. But undertaking those steps, engaging that level of talent, and building to that level of quality was an audacious move in the mid-80s. That is to say nothing of the fact the project was about the public realm and had a district focus- unheard of in the South at the time. Miller Plaza is more than a community gathering place, it is a statement about the values of the community. It is more than a park with an arcade, it is a blueprint for urban intervention. Miller Plaza is more than a piece of architecture, it is a symbol of the rebirth of our city. With that understanding, the building is still just a just a building. It is not precious, and as with all things man-made it is impermanent. If Miller Plaza were gone tomorrow, life would go on. However, it is our appreciation and understanding of the history of our built environment that gives meaning to the city. This is why we love downtown- there is a communal history and meaning here that enriches our lives.

It is our responsibility to future generations of Chattanoogans to be good stewards of the places we inherit and to transmit the histories that imbue those places with meaning. It is also our task to create our own history and meaning by building anew and adapting our inheritance. You will definitely find me at the new restaurant in Miller Plaza when it opens. To find out where you will not find me dining, tune in next week.

Smells Like Civic Spirit

Back in my undergraduate days at UNM I was a big Nirvana fan. I wasn’t a massive, travel-the-country-to-see-them fan, but I really enjoyed the music. When Cobain died in ’94, I was distraught and proceeded to play their catalogue back to back to back for some time. After a period of weeks, a fraternity brother paused in my doorway and said “Let him die, bro”, then moved along. That is to illustrate that sometimes when I feel strongly about something, I have a hard time letting it go. This week, I’m having a hard time moving on from the Urban Design Challenge.

As you may know, last week the sun set on the Urban Design Challenge. More than 450 of us showed up for the Grand Finale (Four – Fif - Tee!). It is quite clear that the community has a massive appetite for issues of urbanism and design. There is a part of me that wants to move on to new pastures and write about some other concepts I’ve been toying with. The blog, however, is about urban design in Chattanooga and the UDC is the biggest news in that universe since Stroud got the sack. 

The Challenge has been my primary focus for over a year. The process has been the most interesting and fulfilling public process I’ve ever had the good fortune of being associated with. I’ve been trying evaluate my feelings about the past year, and if I had to distill my emotions and describe them in a word, it would be pride. This pride, however, is unrelated to self. For this week’s blog, I offer you a list of things and people I’m proud of.

I’m proud of Kim White and River City Company. Their job is economic development- to develop property and to attract investment in downtown. It is not their responsibility to convene and facilitate the community conversation on urban design. To her eternal credit, Kim recognized that no one else was taking responsibility for this vitally important task and she tackled it with style and aplomb. 

I’m proud of our philanthropic community. The Lyndhurst, Benwood, and Maclellan Foundations were equal partners in making the UDC possible. I’m proud of the fact that our foundations embrace collaborative efforts, and that they each had the vision to make a significant investment in an untested and impermanent process.

I’m proud of Ann Coulter. From initial concept until the lights went down on Thursday, she worked tirelessly. Her instincts and insights were, without fail, spot-on throughout the process.

I’m proud of the Dynamic Density team. They only had about five weeks to pull together their project, they had arguably the most difficult site, and they produced a thoroughly professional response. Their work set a high bar for each of the remaining teams.

I’m proud of the Big Gig. Facing the challenges of time and the “blank slate”, they created a project that had the rare quality of being imaginative and artful while retaining the feel of a project that one could easily visualize being built.

I’m proud of Method E5. On a deceptively difficult site they produced a multifaceted, multilayered plan that was respectful of the past while projecting a vision of the future that is aspirational, inclusive and artistic.

I’m proud of Elemi+. Given the choice of taking the wide and easy road or navigating the narrow path, they put their marbles on the table and took a stand on principle. Beyond the sensationalism of the TDOT drama there is a nuanced and thoughtful concept for improving our most auspicious gateway into downtown.

I’m proud of the whole Idea Channel crew. By redefining the problem and being ever mindful of the fact that small, incremental interventions can lead to real change, they deftly presented a vision that is both visionary and attainable.

I’m proud of the HKA/Artech/BWSC team. When we received the letters of interest, I was blown away that two of the highest profile firms in town would partner. The high-level work that the team produced is a sterling example of that famous Chattanooga maxim: “working together works”.

I’m proud of the community. What other city in the South (or country for that matter) could consistently draw 200+ people for a series of urban design presentations?  Four-Fif-Tee for the finale, and we didn’t even have to use free beer to do it. Remarkable. Chattanooga is a special place with a special spirit that is shared by special people. If we could only get a decent Chinese takeout downtown we would be perfect.

I’m proud of the entire process. I was fortunate to be able to spend some time with each of the jurors during their couple of days here. It was incredibly gratifying to hear them gush about the high level of work the teams produced. These are people who are not easily impressed, but without exception they expressed admiration for what the community has accomplished. As with the vast majority of the good work done here over the past thirty years, the Urban Design Challenge owes its success to partnership and collaboration.

The toughest part of the process for me has been to answer the oft-asked question of “what’s next?”. I have to admit I’m not exactly sure- I’m not sure anyone is. I am confident that something will come out the Urban Design Challenge, but even if nothing else transpires, the community is better off for having gone through in the process. I will do my level best to move on next week and write about something else- but I’m not sure I’m willing to let it die, bro.

Fin.

Ahhh, deep breath. An amazing and grueling summer sets this weekend with the boys imminent return to school. This has been arguably the most hectic 3-month period in my life (in a virtual dead heat with the fall of 2002). Here are some highlights of the past few months: I traveled to Iowa twice, Florida twice, and Montgomery three times, my grandmother died, my wife had surgery and a subsequent July 4th trip to the emergency room (she’s back to normal now), I had an endoscopy, I finished design and drawings for a house in North Chattanooga, I pulled together the Design Studio Retrospective, my wife bought a new car when I wasn’t looking, I took the family on vacation, and last week I whisked boys away for our first trip to The Lost Sea in Sweetwater, TN. Over the course of the summer, however, most of my attention has been devoted to the Urban Design Challenge.

Some of us were more excited than others.

In the spring of 2011 in celebration of their 25th year in business and on the heels of projects that shall not be named, River City Company endeavored to undertake a public process to re-energize the community conversation about downtown. When we were brought on to help craft this yearlong “something” there was no way of knowing the impact that the process would have. I had a gut feeling that there was pent up demand for a community discourse on urban design issues- the first couple of months of this blog hinted at that. If you would have told me then, however, that we would get more than 200 people at each of the presentations I doubt I would have believed it.

If the goal of the Urban Design Challenge was to re-energize the conversation regarding urbanism and design, then the process can only be considered an overwhelming success. Hundreds, if not thousand of people have participated in the process- in the flesh. The in-person, on-site nature of the UDC was not an accident, it was very much by design. The decision was made that a robust and energetic conversation could best be established by convening those concerned in the same place to socialize with one another and to have the shared experiences of each of the presentations. There is no doubt that digital augmentation of real-world events is a powerful tool that is here to stay. It is my firm belief, however, that people putting forth the effort to attend an event with others who have made a similar commitment creates stronger bonds. Indeed, the defining characteristic of the UDC was the almost palpable level of energy and excitement at each of the presentations- these were no mere public meetings.

(Massive shout out to Brad Shelton at Accendo Studio for his
great photography through the UDC Process)

Beyond that, the Challenge was designed to propose visions and spark conversation, not necessarily to impact real-world projects. The process, however, has done just that. The most obvious example of real-world influence is the US-27 project. Who knows how that will eventually play out, but the fact that a small band of architects and interested citizens can influence an $80 million State transportation project is nothing short of amazing. Beyond that, word on the street is that UDC proposals have influenced potential developments at 700 Block, the Haney Block, The John Ross Building, the chicken plant and Patten Parkway. Of course, only time will tell what impact the UDC work will have on the city, but my hunch is that we’ll look back at this as a watershed moment as it relates to how we build the city.

Frankly, I have been jealous throughout the process. My friends and colleagues got the opportunity to put teams together and perform the work of the challenge, while I was stuck holding a microphone. While not being able to perform the work was difficult, it has been great fun to serve as a liaison with each of the teams and get to see the behind the scenes work from each of the teams. Without exception, the teams produced top shelf work. It is truly remarkable to see what these teams of architects produced. They were given BLANK SLATES and rather to go the stereotypical route of creating signature architectural statements, every team produced a work of urban design that focused on the public realm. The work is a credit to our professional community.

The Urban Design Challenge is the most fun and fulfilling public project I’ve had a chance to be associated with. By any metric, River City Company’s Urban Design Challenge has been an unqualified success. If you’ve made it out to any of the presentations, you know of what I speak. If you’ve missed them, you can catch up on content at http://www.urbandesignchallenge.com. We all have one last event to attend- The Grand Finale. Thursday night at 5:30 at Track 29 our thirteen-month odyssey comes to a close. I greatly anticipate the week’s festivities, however, I will be gutted to see it end.

Napoleon Complex

Well friends, I’ve been a bad, bad blogger and let another week pass. You find me this week at Seagrove Beach on a much-needed vacation. It is a great joy to bring my family back to the place I vacationed when I was but a young C.Rush. Although it is great fun for me, I suspect that the boys are tired of hearing me describe the battlefield of the Great Bottle Rocket Battle of 19 and '82, and are weary of listening to the story of the time I busted ass on the diving board, knocked myself out and my dad had to save me from drowning (which, I suppose, is to his credit).

Long-time readers of the blog will recognize this as the time of year that I typically get off on a Seaside/New Urbanist tangent.  Well, here we go again. The last few months I've been having an internal debate about ideal ways of creating density. Of course, there is no right or wrong answer to the question and the answer ultimately depends on context, but it's been fun to think about. 

Underlying the question is the fundamental recognition of the importance of density. I write often about the fact that density is part of the DNA of downtown and a fundamental condition for the functioning of a healthy city core. Accommodating more people and activity on any given square foot of land downtown means that land elsewhere can be given over to farmland, recreation or conservation. People and activity in close proximity also make pedestrianism a viable option. Walking, of course being the most preferable means of human transportation- it requires no machine storage (parking lots, bike racks, etc), no fossil fuel consumption, and minimal land for circulation (no roads, airports, train stations, etc). Walking, of course, has its limitations, but the denser a place is with essential activities of life, the more sense it makes.

The question concerns the best way to establish density- on one end of the spectrum is the modernist notion of the tower in a park, on the other end is a district of multiple structures of (more or less) uniform height.

The tower is an obvious way to establish density from a dwelling unit per acre standpoint- a small footprint is established, then units are stacked atop one another until the laws of physics or finance intervene. I’ve been enamored with this concept from the first time I saw Mies’ and Corbu’s drawings in architecture school- beautiful, simple, awe-inspiring buildings where people could live, work and be entertained. The footprint of the towers was small (in Corbu’s case miniscule due to his use of pilotis), which meant that the natural landscape around the tower could remain virtually untouched. This was a profound and beautiful response to the often-appalling conditions of the inner city after the industrial revolution.

Another attempt at making a city more sanitary and liveable was undertaken in Paris. The Second Empire reforms of Napoleon III and Baron Haussmann were aimed at modernizing what was still, in essence, a medieval city. Among the myriad initiatives were improvements in infrastructure and public space and implementation of the straight, wide(r), streets that city is known for, and a building height limit of about 60 feet. There are a thousand different aspects of that work that could be analyzed, but for the purposes of this post, let’s leave it at building height restriction. I find it quite remarkable that a city of millions can be built with a 60’ height limit- and that the same is on the short list of the greatest cities in human history.

So, you might ask, what the hell has this to do with Seaside? Let me go mix another tequila and I’ll make the connection after the jump...

Tower.

Not a tower.

From where I sit, I can look off to the east and see several towers- primarily residential, but with some mixed-use components. Off to the west I can discern the silhouettes of the Seaside pavilions. Both of these places are dense, however, they achieve this density in markedly different ways. The towers...are towers, while Seaside is a clustered village of similarly-scaled buildings of 2-4 stories. Having driven past the towers in the past, they look like nice and well-maintained, but do not look a likely candidate for shopping, dining, or people-watching. Seaside, on the other hand, is well known for its exuberant street-life. Perhaps this is not a fair comparison, since I’ve cherry-picked the examples from my beach chair. The example does, however, underscore a point that Ricard Florida toyed with a couple of weeks ago (on Christian-mas, no less). That point is that density can be a dual edged sword. Density, if properly executed, will result in rich and rewarding built environments that contribute mightily to quality of life and economic development. Density, if not properly executed, results in vapid, monotonous developments whose only benefit over the sub-urb is that it uses less land.

In my estimation, the ideal height for development in our downtown is about four stories.  This uniform, moderate height would provide a more fertile ground for social interaction,  increase opportunity for broad economic development, increase land value and result in more efficient buildings. If I were to advocate for design guidelines (which I do not), I would set a height limit at five stories. Less than five stories is too onerous and more than five negates the advantages outlined above. I think the next step for downtown is to generate the type of across the board density that would make more retail development feasible (I'm not talking boutique shoe stores for the tourists, I'm talking convenience store, theater, grocery store, laundry, bodega, restaurant, bar- all of the little things that make it possible to live, work and play in the city). The towers we have are fine, they serve a purpose for our city and I hope they do well. The city has other needs, however, that can be met in other ways. I'm not sure that I'm any closer to figuring our which of the philosophical alternatives I prefer for increasing density, but in our current situation, it seems that the city would benefit from a general and uniform densification.

Sincerest apologies for the ramble, but the Florida sun has addled my meager brain, and as you know I’m a bit out of practice. I’m back in the saddle now and with any luck the weekly routine is hereby reestablished.

Back at it

Friends, I offer my sincerest apologies for missing the past couple of weeks. I tried to try to keep it rolling, but had a couple of projects that conspired to steal my writing time. Things are settling down a bit, so I’m back at it. For the record, I’m bailing on the Pink Floyd tribute, for now (if you have a serious problem with that let me know and I’ll reconsider).

As you may know, the big project I’ve been working is the Design Studio Retrospective. (If you don't know, now you know, know, know, know). The Retrospective takes a look back at more than 20 years of urban design and visioning for downtown Chattanooga. Over the spring and summer of this year, I canvassed the community and reached out to studio alums to assemble as much of the work that the studio produced as possible. The primary product of that effort is an online archive. The secondary product is an exhibition of outstanding examples of the work that is being put on display in my favorite building. The exhibition follows the work of the Studio as it progressed from general downtown structure studies to work on some of Chattanooga’s most beloved places. The exhibition also features an interactive connection to the complete archive of work. The website is now live and can be found at www.chattanoogastudio.com. If you're not from 'round here, be sure to go to the "retrospective" page and download the ibook for you iphone or ipad- it's almost good as being there. If you are from here, you can still download it, but you have no reason for not actually being there.

One of the things that Stroud taught was that all of our work should “respect the past, reinforce the present and predict a future. By its nature a retrospective is a look back at something that happened in the past- I had that part covered. One of the things I struggled with during the process was how to make a retrospective relevant to the present and pertinent to the future. I really believe that what has been put together is more than simply a history project.

If we consider the present in regard to urbanism and design in our community, the big deal going is River City Company’s Urban Design Challenge. The overwhelming support of and participation in the process is evidence that the community values civic dialogue on issues of urbanism and design. It seems to me that the retrospective could be considered a 20 year long urban Design Challenge with hundreds of team members and all of downtown as the site. Chattanooga has been incredibly fortunate to have had an influx of young (and not so young) creative and engaged transplants over the past decade or so. Due to the ignoble demise of the Studio, many of our new neighbors have no clue about the high level of work that was necessary to create the city that we enjoy today. In those regards, the retrospective has relevance in the present.

A couple of concepts stood out during my research, and I hope that these are things that come across to those visiting the exhibition. The first is that downtown didn’t just happen. When we go to nightfall and have a great time, enjoy a stroll around the riverfront, enjoy a meal in an outdoor space, or go home to our neighborhoods in the Southside, it’s easy to take those things for granted. The reality is that virtually everything we enjoy downtown- especially as it relates to the public realm- is the result of years of planning, sketching, design, debate, and hard work. Great places (especially in America) are the result of careful thought, design and planning.

The other thing that stood out has to do with time. The big maneuvers in downtown: Miller Plaza, Ross’s Landing, the Southside, and the river’s edge, all took at least a decade from the initial concept until completion. (That’s fast, by the way). The issue with that timing is that it cycles very differently from political cycles, funding cycles, and often community attention spans. I think the exhibition highlights the importance of having “something” that is a stable long-term steward of community vision. This “something” has to be a place of common ground, and a place where ideas have time and space to gestate. Without this function, the city develops in an ad hoc, piecemeal way that shortchanges greater possibilities. By highlighting these considerations and interjecting them into the civic dialogue, the retrospective projects a future.

The Retrospective will be open until late October and will be open to the public from 10 a.m. until 2 p.m. Monday-Thursday. As mentioned earlier, it can be found in the Citipark building at 831 Chestnut Street. Invite a friend, come out and have a look, and make sure you find me and say hey.