Volunteer Water Park Tower

in , ,

The design of infrastructure – public works – in the United States is lacking the civic qualities one finds in other countries, notably those in Europe. A contributing factor to the differing continental approaches in design can be understood as the differing rules of decorum between the state and the populace (in Europe a heritage of monarchy, while in the United States a heritage of limited government). These two opposing traditions translate into the built environment; in the case of Europe an acceptance of the former to visibly display its prowess and acumen to the later, while in the United States grandeur in public works is associated with government that has exceeded its mandate. And though Europe is now composed of democracies, their heritage lends itself to an artistic license that is essentially absent in the United States.

Otto Wagner’s impressive Nußdorf Weir and Lock (a flood control project on the Danube River, in Vienna), is a classic example of royal patronage of the civic architecture. Wagner was Austria’s leading architect in the late 19th and early 20th Centuries, and typical of that era and place such talent was sought after by the country’s rulers to not only design a functional public work, but to also create one that reflected the ruler’s superior tastes and command of public resources. While the United States may lack the royal patronage that fostered such impressive structures, Seattle is fortunate to have a noteworthy collection of well-designed public works that are not only pleasing to the eye, but also prompt exploration by the public who funded it. The Hiram M. Chittenden Locks on the Lake Washington Ship Canal, with their associated public gardens, concrete gate houses and promenade, and fish viewing platforms are a Seattle favorite, and in some ways like the Nußdorf Weir and Lock (minus the lions, of course) in that they are both water works. Here on the Hill, we are fortunate to have the Volunteer Park Water Tower, another water related piece of infrastructure.

The water tower, built by the no longer extant Seattle Water Department in 1906, stands 75 feet 6 inches above the adjacent road (Capitol Hill's highest point), about the equivalent of a six to seven story building, thus making the top of the tower 520 feet; or, a couple of hundred feet shy of the Space Needle. One could actually say there are two towers in Volunteer Park, the brick outer tower and the steel-plate inner tower where the real business occurs. Seattle Public Utilities is now the steward of the water tower(s), which is adjacent a reservoir, another attractive piece of city infrastructure. The tower plays a vital role in our drinking water supply, as it provides pressure for the water pipes serving the needs of our Capitol Hill Community, some extra storage capacity, and doubtless some other functions as well.

[caption id="attachment_2897" align="alignnone" width="700" caption="Tower from the South East"][/caption]

All well and good it is to store our water, but the ‘civic-ness(?)’ of the tower lies in the fact that it performs the above functions while simultaneously being great piece of public architecture, much in the same way as the Wagner and Chittenden Locks do, but in its own Capitol way and in a manner that fully exploits its advantageous location. The first hints of these beyond utility aspirations are in evidence in the pair of matching entries (on the north and south of the tower): each with its own proud, pedimented entry. And each made of that most robust and permanent of materials -- granite. And the text on the frieze -- Aqua Pura MCMVI – directly references to those ancient builders of the world’s most enduring water works, the great aqueducts of the Roman Empire. A bit haughty perhaps, but certainly appropriate.

[caption id="attachment_2895" align="alignnone" width="703" caption="North Entry"][/caption]

Another material flourish that raises the tower above mere utility is the clinker brick cladding. Clinker brick is a brick that has been fired at such a high temperature that it forms a glaze on its surface, and is often deformed in the process. Denser and stronger than typical brick, clinkers are typically used only as architectural accents in a larger field of simpler brick (they are a trademark of Capitol Hill’s Anhalt’s); however, the designer of the tower felt that the robust and rough appearance of the brick was appropriate to the underlying utility of the entire edifice, thus conveying a sense of age, while simultaneously of permanence. The shadow resulting from the deformed profiles of the clinkers, along with their stunningly rich and complex earth tones, help to dematerializes the structure; which, despite its height, fits in perfectly with Volunteer Park’s Olmstedian landscape. As an unintended bonus, their deformed profile lends them a convenient surface to grasp and rest one’s foot, a quality not lost to many a neighborhood rock-jock.

[caption id="attachment_2898" align="alignnone" width="652" caption="Clinker Brick"][/caption]

 

[caption id="attachment_2896" align="alignnone" width="513" caption="Climber"][/caption]

One-hundred-and-six (or is it seven?). That is the number of steps one must climb to reach the viewing deck – the great prize that Seattle Water Department gifted to us in the planning of the Tower. The steel steps emit a hollow-ringing sound as one ascends,  reverberating throughout the serpentine stairwell -- a nice warning that others are approaching. There is a pair of stairs, one for reach entry, which spiral around the water tank, double helix style. Once inside the stairwell, one can see the inner, steel tower, as the water contained within presents far too great a structural load for the brick to handle. The steel plates are riveted together as was common for steel fabrications of the period. I am not sure of the thickness of the plates, but I am sure it is measured in inches, not fractions thereof. And just look at those rivets, there must be thousands of them! And although I cannot be sure of this either, the tower assembly rests upon a mound, in an effort to conceal as well an enormous foundation, as well as related plumbing gear.

[caption id="attachment_2902" align="alignnone" width="525" caption="Stairs"][/caption]

 

[caption id="attachment_2901" align="alignnone" width="588" caption="Rivets"][/caption]

Once at the top, there is a real surprise for first time visitors and a justification to regulars who slog up the steps. Historic plaques, comfortable benches, and a generous number of large windows make the viewing platform a popular destination and pleasant place to rest, gaze out over the landscape, and learn some local history. The tectonic lessons are not over either, as the great steel tank does more than hold millions of gallons of water. It also helps to hold up the roof, or is it the other way around? In either case, there is some structural interaction between the two, as the mid-point of the trusses spanning the view platform has a pair of rods going down to the tank. I think the rods may actually brace the trusses that in turn brace the top of the brick wall, keeping the latter form falling over, in the same manner the rods that join the steel tower to the brick tower in the stairwells. But that is just a guess. The trusses themselves provide an opportunity see  uncommon, radial framing.

[caption id="attachment_2903" align="alignnone" width="700" caption="Interior"][/caption]

text

[caption id="attachment_2899" align="alignnone" width="700" caption="Roof Truss"][/caption]

Yet even an enthusiast for architecture and civic design must confess that all the above is mere hyperbole, compared to the tremendous 360-degree view one gets of our gorgeous city.

[caption id="attachment_2900" align="alignnone" width="700" caption="View"][/caption]

Queen Anne Residence Remodel/Addition

in ,

“Places are spaces that you can remember, that you can care about and make a part of your life. Much of what is built now is too tepid to be remembered.”

Chambers for a Memory Palace, by Donlyn Lyndon and Charles W. Moore

‘Tepid’ may be the word to describe this home before the renovation and addition but ‘memorable’ is now the word that takes its place. Although still in construction, it is beginning to take shape and its pronounced form is highly visible. No longer is it simply a modest home overshadowed by the tall adjacent homes but it is confidently perched on a hill to capture beautiful views of Seattle. The procession through the home is one that continues to entice, the main level has modestly high ceilings, keeping the ceiling height of the original home, while the second level increases the ceiling height by nearly a foot. When you finally reach the third story, the cabana level, the height is unrestricted on the large roof deck overlooking Seattle. This creates a pivotal destination point for the procession through the home.  All these moments have resulted in a truly memorable place that the residents are anxious to make a part of their life.

For more information and to see the rendering and sketches go to our website here

 

The Function of Ornament

in , ,

Building at its most fundamental level is about providing shelter from the elements, and to that end is traditionally a reflection of the environmental forces that shaped it as well as the materials and technological savvy available to accomplish the task. Like many places, the Pacific Northwest has its own building traditions reflecting both its environment and resources. On a domestic scale, the craftsman bungalow, perhaps the most recognizable vernacular, possesses large overhangs, lapped siding, and skillfully executed wood trim -- all elements reflecting our region’s wet winter months and abundance of trees. With the expansion of national and international awareness, as well as industrialization, the ties of building to place are increasingly tenuous. Exotic examples from distant locations become more prevalent as designers search outside local precedent to things more tantalizing and evocative.

The Lacrosse Apartments, on the corner of East Thomas Street and Malden Avenue East, is a successful grafting of a typically Pacific Northwest single family residential architectural vocabulary. In this case the craftsmen style is applied onto a larger apartment building designed in a vernacular that is more likely to be seen in the warmer and sunnier climates to our south, in California or even Mexico. This pairing of rather distant vernaculars may at first strike one as odd, but upon further consideration the regional modification to a stucco building makes sense. Generous roof overhangs and projecting window trim, as well as a subtly projecting cornice between the first and second floors, are among those elements on the Lacrosse easily associated with bungalows, while broad expanses of stucco (including Spanish Rococo inspired parapets) reveal some of the Lacrosse’s southern heritage.  Given that stucco needs greater rain protection than the typical brick or lap-siding-clad Capitol Hill apartment, the above mentioned craftsmen elements make a good deal of sense.

Seen from the intersection of Malden Avenue East and East Thomas Street, one of the first architectural features to catch the eye is generous roof overhang, which add a distinctive horizontal emphasis to the elevations. The projecting roofs are larger than one would typically encounter on a bungalow, as they are here appropriately scaled to a three-story building, where the overhang provides greater weather protection to the taller building. Visually, the larger size of the overhangs combined with their lower height relative to the building corners act as a subtractive counter point in distinction to the taller vertical corners. Where the overhangs are absent, the parapets have a robust cap, whose heft -- while not as effective as the overhangs -- provides some measure of water protection to the top of the wall.

[caption id="attachment_2488" align="alignnone" width="700" caption="The Lacrosse Entry"][/caption]

The Lacrosse’s entry concisely presents many of the building’s noteworthy elements. Columns flanking either side of the stair support a balcony, the base of which is a low cornice demarcating the first from the second floor, while the roof sheltering the balcony provides another hint of the Lacrosse’s dual heritage in the curved ceramic tile shingles commonly seen on mission style buildings. The Terra-cotta pots, although not part of the architecture, are a nice touch. Over-sized support brackets at both the balcony and building roofs lend importance to these portions of the elevation. Also well represented at the entry is the building’s contrasting use of color.

[caption id="attachment_2490" align="alignnone" width="700" caption="Corner Tower at Malden and Thomas"][/caption]

In the above view, the more expressive realization of the cornice first encountered at the entry balcony can be seen demarcating the first and second floors. Above the cornice a slight outward curve directs rainwater away from the first floor, as the roof overhang is too distant to offer much assistance. Above the cornice, the projection of trim over the window’s head deflects water away from the opening, while on the third floor a mini-hip roof protects a pair of windows on the Lacrosse’s main facade. The intersection of Malden Avenue and Thomas Street is marked by a tower which has a post and beam structure, another reference to our region’s timber framing. The transition from the visual mass and solidity of the stucco-clad building base to the lighter and more transparent top floor is one of the best expressive building corners on Capitol Hill and is well integrated with the building's tectonic vocabulary.

[caption id="attachment_2493" align="alignnone" width="700" caption="Cornice at First Floor Window"][/caption]

The attention to detail by the building’s designer is in evidence here, the transition from the cornice, to brackets, to window framing. All elements easily flow from one to another, without a break in rigor. It is as if the second floor gently extended out from the first floor, extruding the brackets in the process. This detail is in contrast to that of the brackets at the entry and the hip roof on the corner, where the desire was to compose those elements as added to the building’s mass, as they are not integral to the window framing and are instead supported by the stucco wall, revealing that every detail has its own specific place within the whole.

Assigning stylistic principles to buildings, while convenient, can gloss over their origins. While craftsman is certainly an easier moniker than, for example, “from-the-damp-northwest-and-made-of-timber”, a knowledge of both the stylistic name and its environmental genesis makes field observations more fulfilling, especially as we gaze upon an assemblage of differing ‘styles’ as well executed as those in the Lacrosse Apartments.