Remodel or Preserve?

What’s the difference between preservation and remodeling and why should you care?

By Bob Graham, Motley Design Group

There are good reasons to save almost any building. But some buildings deserve not only to be reused, but to be preserved.  The difference between preservation and simple reuse may not be obvious, but it’s worth thinking about.

I hate to see a building demolished, if for no other reason, just because of the waste. Having been involved in many construction projects, I have a keen appreciation for all of the thinking, planning, logistics, fabricating, inspecting, construction materials, and plain old labor and sweat that goes in to building anything. It seems like a marvel that anything can get built. The quality of construction has also deteriorated in modern days.  It is generally true that they don’t build them like they used to, because labor was cheap and people expected buildings to last.  So when a building is taken down, I can feel, in my gut, all of that effort being broken up and hauled off to the landfill.

I am also sentimental about my surroundings. When you live long enough in one place, the buildings around you become the settings for your memories. When the movie theater where you had your first date is torn down, a little piece of you is taken with it. It’s almost as bad when a major remodel changes the look of a place, or even reshapes it so the spaces you remember can barely be recognized. Phoenix’s Encanto Park, which was ruined in about 1990, comes to mind. Just enough of the original character remains to make me a little sad (and mad) every time I walk through it.

Old buildings are our connection to those who were here before us. As an architect, I am always curious about the work of the earlier architects who designed my city. They had design inspirations and motives that were very different from mine, while at the same time some things never change.  It makes me feel like I am walking in their footsteps, and I like to think they might appreciate my own work.

When a building crosses the line from being just another inhabited box to being a container for the community’s memories or a connection to something in the past that was important, it becomes a candidate for preservation.  Identifying these places used to be by consensus. But the feeling of worthiness was not always felt by everyone, which led to arguments. Since the preservation movement took off in the 1960s our society has developed criteria for fairly identifying what should be preserved, which is where we get institutions like the National Register of Historic Places and the various city and state registers.

So when we say that we want to preserve a building, we are essentially saying that we want to make sure that those features that define our perception of it are not removed or changed (jargon: “character-defining elements” or “CDE’s”). This is what makes a historic preservation project different from a conventional remodel project.  We can “rehabilitate” a historic building by making selective changes to it to adapt it to modern standards and needs, but we need to do it in such a way that those CDE’s are preserved. CDE’s can include anything from the stucco texture to the overall building form, depending on the context.  It’s recognizing which elements are important that’s the trick; you have to have a good understanding about what is significant about the building (which is not always obvious without some level of historic research) before you can formulate a preservation approach.

It is unfortunate that this is so poorly understood, because many well-meaning property owners and their architects think they are doing historic preservation when in fact they are eroding or destroying the very values that make their building valuable in the first place. So by all means, remodel instead of demolish! It’s the green thing to do. But be sure to check the importance of your building to the community, and try to avoid taking away someone else’s memories.

Placemaking is Hard

Why many of our past redevelopment efforts fall short

Milehigh Tower Article
The (quarter-) mile-high tower proposal of 1985

By Bob Graham, Motley Design Group

Everyone agrees that a walkable, vibrant downtown with memorable places to live, work, and play would be a good thing. There seems to be much less of a consensus on what that means, in physical terms, and how you get there.

We have been trying for decades, at least since the 1970s, to revive downtown Phoenix following the suburban flight that occurred after World War II. I recall in the early ‘80s tracking all of the exciting new developments downtown, and how, collectively, they were going to do the trick. Anybody remember the French Quarter? The Mercado? The Mile-High Tower? These, and many others, were examples of a top-down approach to what we now call “placemaking,” the attempt to create buildings, spaces, or streetscapes that people would love because of their unique appeal, comfortable ambiance, and vibrancy.

All of our failed attempts at placemaking have common elements. First of all, they tend to be ideas hatched by a single person or small group, grasping for a unifying concept that looks, on its surface, likable. Not recognizing the positive aspects of their place, they attempt to evoke a different place; something else, or somewhere else that is already loved. Who doesn’t like the excitement and street life of New Orleans, or of a Mexican market like in Nogales, or the prestige of having the tallest building in the world? Build it and they will come, they say, because it will be so cool that it will sell itself.

These developments tend to have a grand scale in an attempt to create their own context. Civic Plaza, the basketball arena, and the baseball stadium each were supposed to “fix” downtown in one bold stroke. Arizona Center went to the grand scale as well, but more successfully.  The appeal of a mega-development is understandable from an economic perspective – you can get a whole lot done in a short period of time, and stretch your funding as far as you can. The problem with grand-scale projects is that they tend to become monotonous and uninteresting, particularly after a few years when the novelty wears off, and lack the fine-grained texture that great places have.

None of the failed attempts at placemaking had broad community support, and that was their downfall. Of course, in the early years of rebuilding downtown, there was little community there to provide support. So instead, the developments were geared toward an imaginary “customer,” a.k.a. future downtown resident or patron. Unfortunately, most failed because they did not attract the forecast customers.

RED Development Opening
2010 opening of the public open space at CityScape

Today, we are fortunate to have developed a larger constituency for downtown, people who already live here, already work here, and who are strong advocates for their downtown. And those people are the key to finally re-making a successful center city.

Successful placemaking requires building community consensus: ground-up, not top-down. The top-down approach is much easier, but the results speak for themselves. Ground-up means you have to ask people what they want – and to get a meaningful response, you have to actually engage in a dialogue, because most people really have not thought that much about what they want their city to look like. That’s hard, and that’s why you so seldom see it done.

I look to the new Hance Park planning effort as an example of how community consensus building can work. They got the community involved, they asked the right questions, and from that data created a plan that contained the elements that people want – and likely will use. Time will tell, but I expect that the next generation Hance Park will not appear on a failed-developments list.

Placemaking also requires cooperation. When individual property owners look only within their own boundaries, and propose developments without integrating into their context, opportunities can be wasted and good places can be destroyed.  As we enter the next boom cycle of building downtown, developers have been proposing projects without public input – living within their existing land rights, not because they are being good neighbors, but because it’s easier, and more definite, than engaging with the community. Gauging from the groundswell of resistance, these developments don’t appear to be making the kind of places that the community wants.

We have the opportunity to create a community vision that can serve as the measuring stick for new developments. We can ask that projects respect their historic, geographic, and social context into which they are built. It’s hard – but the results would be worth it.

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Authentic Phoenix

Authentic Phoenix Windsor Hotel
Adams Street between 5th and 6th Avenues retains an authentic character.

By Bob Graham, Motley Design Group

Phoenix has always been a place where new is better than old. The central city has been remade time and again – adobes gave way to brick Victorians, which were supplanted by Art Deco towers. When the Civic Plaza was constructed on the land scraped free of the scary-but-historic area known as “The Deuce,” the blueprint, yet again, for remaking downtown was to tear it down and build something new. The pattern continued with public mega-projects such as America West Arena, Chase Field, and the Biomed Campus. These developments helped to revitalize downtown, but many also damaged the soul of authentic Phoenix.New, modern buildings are not necessarily incompatible with maintaining authenticity. Many modern uses don’t work within existing buildings. However, we need to do a better job of integrating the old with the new. Architects generally don’t like this approach because it constrains their vision.  Developers don’t like it because it is harder and more costly. But the public can tell the difference, when given the chance. There is a longing for authenticity in those with Phoenix roots, people who like cities, and who have chosen to live in our urban core. The older, reused, and revitalized buildings of the past are the greatest contributors to the feeling of authenticity in downtown Phoenix. The new buildings just seem like filler.

Phoenix Style Article
Creating a “Phoenix Style” was discussed in the Arizona Republic in the 1980s.

Architects are still searching for authentic Phoenix. When the City Hall competition was taking place in the mid-1980s, there was a collective quest for defining a “Phoenix style.” Many entrants said that Phoenix was a place with no style, no traditions to follow – and therefore a clean slate. Those of us who were familiar with the history of building in Phoenix were surprised by this perception.

Authentic Phoenix is all around us. It lies in the buildings, landscapes, and streetscapes that were here before the waves of redevelopment began.  Architect-designed landmarks such as the Luhrs Tower and the Security Building as well as nondescript warehouses and prewar neighborhoods are all part of authentic Phoenix.

We can learn a lot of important lessons from authentic Phoenix.  After all, for a long time people had to live here without the two inventions that have now made Phoenix unsustainable: cars and air conditioners. The city may have been uncomfortable in the summer but it was livable, shady, green, walkable, and beautiful. Just the kind of place people want to live today.

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