Daily insights for city builders, delivered every morning at 6 AM ET. I’m Brandon Donnelly — a Toronto-based real estate developer and founder of Globizen. I’ve been writing here since 2013.
Here is an example of retail signage on Lincoln Road in Miami Beach. The interior signage (behind the glass above the doors) is specific to the brand Osklen (which is a great sustainable fashion company from Brazil). And the exterior soffit signage is specific to the property in that the same design and typeface is used for all of the retail tenants.
I think that this consistency creates a more elevated feel for the overall property, but the obvious downside is that the retailers don’t get to express their unique brands and identities in quite the same way. Still, I think the above approach is a pretty good compromise. What do you think?
Tracey Lindeman over at the Walrus recently asked: Why is Canadian architecture so bad? Is it because Canadians are too passive and apathetic when it comes to good design? Or is it because we’re too cheap and don’t like our tax dollars being spent on unnecessarily lavish public buildings?
Whatever the case, there is an argument out there that we maybe had this wonderful period between the 50s and 70s where we really excelled in modern architecture and design (including graphic design), but that we kind of stopped caring and have built mostly banal stuff since then.
Part of Tracey’s argument is simply that we’re cowards. We’re more interested in “checking boxes instead of taking chances.” We’ve become too bureaucratic when it comes to procuring new public architecture. And she’s not wrong.
Why we accept it is a patently Canadian phenomenon: our national psyche has us much more interested in checking boxes than in taking chances. Our standard process for contracting buildings often gives projects to the lowest bidders, even if a vastly more beautiful design is just a little bit more expensive. We have become so devoted to frugality and bureaucracy, and are so readily appeased by basic functionality, that we have lost the fortitude to take and demand risks, even if the outcome could be the most beautiful thing we’ve ever seen.
Great architecture requires not only great architects, but also great patrons of architecture. That has generally been the way all throughout history. But here’s the fortunate thing. We have lots of wonderfully talented architects in this country and lots of people who see the value in architecture.
In fact, I think you could argue that over the last 5-10 years we have seen the quality of architecture in our cities step up dramatically. Some of these projects have been designed by top Canadian architects and some have been designed by leading international architects.
In both cases it’s because we see the value proposition and have decided to invest in architecture and design. Now we just need to be bolder across the board and get bureaucracy and checkboxes out of the way of Canadian creativity.
The UK has something called the National Model Design Code. The purpose of this national code is to provide guidance to local authorities and communities on the production of policies that promote successful design. More specifically, it is intended to help people determine what “good quality design looks like in their area.”
So as part of this, the code wades into subjective things like beauty, attractiveness, and distinctiveness (see above chart). This is an interesting discussion — and a topic in this recent Monocle radio episode — because, at the end of the day, is there really such a thing as universal beauty? Can we all agree on what the most beautifully designed places in the world are?
At the same time, and architect Félicie Krikler points this out in the Monocle episode, there are countless examples of ugly places that are still wildly successful by all other urban measures. Is that okay or should they also be beautiful? And if budgets are tight (they always are), is it better to be a beautiful building or to be a more affordable one? Uh oh.
There is also a temporal consideration. Sometimes the things that were once thought to be ugly are now actually thought to be quite beautiful. Beauty can take time, and places sometimes take time to settle in and find their best uses. This is something that I have written about a few times before on the blog.
All of this being said, I believe wholeheartedly in the importance of beautiful places. And I don’t think we talk enough about it. Too often we get hung up on esoteric planning stuff, even though so many of the places that we love would never meet these same tests. However subjective as it may be, more beauty is rarely a bad thing.
Toronto’s new garden suite (accessory dwelling unit) policies are headed to Planning and Housing Committee this week for approval. If you’d like to leave a supportive comment, you can do that over here by clicking “submit comments” at the top of the page. I just finished doing exactly that.
Desire paths, for those of you who may be unfamiliar, are the naturally formed paths and lines that get created when people just walk where they want to walk. Usually these are the shortest and/or most logical routes and, by definition, they don’t align with any designed paths or walkways.
Jay’s point with informal housing is that it is similarly what people actually want to do, but maybe can’t, usually because of restrictive zoning and/or building codes.
The New York Times gives the example of a family that illegally built an accessory dwelling unit at the back of their house in the 1990s. It was rented to friends and family, and it helped them get through some difficult financial times. But again, it wasn’t lawful.
According to some researchers at UCLA, Los Angeles County is estimated to have some 200,000 informal units. Many are forced into demolition, but many, like the above example, manage to sneak under the radar because lots of other people are building them and nobody in the community wants to disrupt things.
Of course, Los Angeles now allows backyard cottages. And so what was once illegal is now not only permitted, but encouraged. Funny, isn’t it? I don’t know if it was the “desire housing” that ultimately made it happen. But it is clear that many people wanted it and they were voting with their actions.
Space-saving transformational furniture isn’t necessarily a new thing. We’ve all seen a murphy bed. And people like Graham Hill (of LifeEdited) have been designing and building out small urban apartments that magically transform for what seems like a decade. Perhaps it’s even longer than that.
But I wouldn’t say that robotic and transforming furniture has hit the mainstream yet. There is, however, an argument to be made that it’s kind of inevitable. As the price of construction and housing continues to increase, there will be a continued push to do more with less space.
Enter companies like Ori, which offer robotic and tech-enabled furniture for both end-users, as well as developers. Ori is already in 57 buildings across the US and, at this year’s Consumer Electronics Show (CES), it was also announced that they have partnered with Marriott to start rolling out their furniture in the hotel space.
Habitat for Humanity recently announced that they have completed, in partnership with additive construction company Alquist, the first 3D-printed owner-occupied house in the world. I’m pretty sure that I’ve seen other 3D-printed homes kicking around, but this is still a big deal and one of the first of such homes for Habitat for Humanity. (It also 3D-printed a house in Arizona this year, but I guess that one wasn’t owner-occupied.)
The 1,200 square foot three-bedroom home is located at 129 Forest Heights Road in Williamsburg, Virginia. And it was “printed” in just 22 hours, which Habitat and Alquist are claiming reduced their construction schedule by approximately weeks compared to a traditionally framed house. Overall, this translated into an estimated savings of 15% on the total construction costs. (Again, according to Habitat and Alquist.)
These kind of savings are particularly important in many rural communities where it is not uncommon for homes to sell below their replacement cost. Not surprisingly, when you have a market dynamic like this, there’s zero incentivize to build new. I mean, why would you when you can just buy something that already exists for less money, and with less risk.
Alquist uses a patented concrete to print its homes. The concrete can be left exposed, or it can be finished with traditional building materials. For any load-bearing or structural walls, I understand that they print two walls with a cavity and then use typical reinforcing bars. I would imagine that this approach is particularly helpful when lumber costs are high, but there’s an obvious question around embodied carbon (concrete in lieu of wood).
Still, it’s hard not to believe that we will be seeing more, rather than less, 3D-printed homes in the future.
Some people, okay a lot of people, used it as an opportunity to be tongue in cheek and respond with things like: cheaply built condos, boarded up Starbuckses, Hooker Harvey’s, Drake’s house in the Bridle Path, the crumbling Gardiner Expressway, and that McDonald’s at the northwest corner of Queen and Spadina (this one is no longer a contender for me now that they’ve gotten rid of their walk-up window).
Of course, there were also a lot of the usual suspects: The Sky Dome, The Gooderham Building (our miniature Flatiron Building), Casa Loma, The Royal Ontario Museum (specifically the expansion by Studio Libeskind), “New City Hall”, The Royal York Hotel, Honest Ed’s, The St. Lawrence Market, Robarts Library (University of Toronto), and a bunch of others that you might find displayed on the seat screen on your next Air Canada flight.
But I’d like to unpack the initial question a bit more. Because what does it really mean for something to be a symbol of a city? And is there an important distinction between the symbols that resonate with locals on a personal level and the symbols that get exported around the world as a city’s brand and identity? Indeed, one of the criteria in most global city rankings is a prominent and recognizable skyline. Icons are important.
Let’s consider an example. I agree entirely with Sean Marshall that “New City Hall” is a deeply symbolic building. Built in the early 1960s after decades of work, New City Hall was the outcome of an international design competition. And it was decidedly modern at a time when Toronto really wasn’t that modern. Montréal was the biggest and most global city in the country and multiculturalism hadn’t yet become a federal mandate. And so New City Hall symbolized our genuine ambitions to becoming something more.
But does the rest of the world care? If you were to ask somebody my question on the streets of Rio de Janeiro or Tokyo, what would they say? What would they remember? The thing about most tall buildings or other city symbols is that they become abstractions. They turn into pictures on social media — like logos of a company. But maybe that’s all we can reasonably ask of the world. Maybe all that really matters is that a symbol has local significance; it’s then up to us to export it and tell that story to the rest of the world.
Last night as I was walking home, I came across the recently completed Yonge + Rich condominiums at Richmond and Victoria (I think they won awards for this name back in the day). I stopped to look up because I was curious about one particular detail — the elbows.
This tower is, in effect, two towers that are attached in middle. And the differing facade treatments are meant to reinforce this: two towers, not one.
But because they are in fact connected, there are some unavoidable 90 degree angles in the floor plates. These spaces can be extremely tricky when it comes to laying out residential suites because they skew your ratio of square footage to vision glass. Usually you get too much of the former relative to the latter. You can also get awkward facing / privacy conditions.
And so these spaces are often referred to in the industry as the “elbow” suites or sometimes the “armpit” suites. Though I think elbows are a lot nicer than armpits.
Here’s the Yonge + Rich example to illustrate what I’m talking about:
In this case, the entire stack is comprised of frosted translucent glass. So it is pretty clear that these spaces are not residential suites. Here’s the floor plate:
What was done here was to make it circulation/corridor space. This solves the elbow suite problem and adds a nice feature to each floor. These days, very few corridors have natural light. Vision glass is too precious of a commodity. You could argue that it should have been clear glass, but presumably frosted glass was used to avoid privacy concerns.
The other trade-off that needs to be considered is that of efficiency. What is the ratio of saleable/rentable area to gross construction area? Adding circulation space lowers this number. So it can come down to whether it is better to have a higher efficiency with some elbows, or a lower efficiency with no elbows.
Retention of an existing concrete building, and architecture that’s a sensitive counterpoint to the original. This (if built as shown) will be excellent. https://t.co/Svbcq3pLJ5
The application proposes to retain the existing 12-storey office building and both expand its floorplates to the west and build new residential on top. In the middle is a shared multi-storey amenity space that also performs some pretty cool structural gymnastics courtesy of Stephenson Engineering (see above rendering).
This approach created some interesting design challenges for the team. Typically when you’re adding onto an existing building, you want to do something new and not try and copy/bastardize what’s already there. Oftentimes this means something more contemporary.
The architecture team at Gensler Toronto tried this approach but the podium proportions didn’t feel quite right when we did it. So a decision was made to instead pay homage to the existing building’s architecture, and then kind of reinterpret it by playing with scale and other details.
This way the original building remains architecturally legible, but the entire podium still reads as one and its proportions feel much better. We hope you like it as much as we do.
We talk a lot on this blog about laneway housing and ADUs, including, of course, the one that Globizen built earlier this year. But beyond being exceedingly cool (see above), what has this policy change meant at the macro level? To what extent is it actually helping housing supply? Let’s consider Toronto.
As a reminder, “laneway suites” became permissible in the former/old City of Toronto in 2018. The policies where then expanded to the entire city of Toronto in the summer of 2019. So we’ve had just over 2 years of this housing type being fully allowed city-wide.
Though it’s worth keeping in mind that there are only so many laneways in Toronto (which is why “garden suites” are going to be important and may actually end up being more impactful):
Between the introduction of laneway suites and June 2021, the City of Toronto received 306 permit applications to construct, of which 238 were associated with a unique address (the same address can have multiple permit applications).
During this same time period, 183 permits were issued. 107 were still under review at the time this report was written. 15 were refused. And 1 was classified as “unknown”, which I guess means it got lost in the ether or under someone’s desk.
Some of you will probably argue that this isn’t enough new housing for a city of 3 million people with high home prices, high demand, and high immigration. And I would agree.
But it’s still early days, there will be an adoption curve, and the policies are still being tweaked to further remove some of the barriers associated with delivering this housing type. Of the 238 unique addresses that submitted a permit application, just over a quarter of them had an associated minor variance application, which means that they did not fully conform to the current laneway suite by-law.
The most common obstacles appear to be the 1.5m laneway setback, the soft landscaping requirements, and the required fire access. But I know that there are others too. I could have used another foot or two in height on mine.
But as I mentioned before, there are more areas in this city without laneways than with. And so garden suites are going to be an integral component of city-wide ADUs. This will certainly help the adoption curve.
I continue to believe that these are all steps in the right direction and that this is an exciting time for Toronto. We are in the midst of transforming our laneways. But we’re not done yet. We’re going to have to make many other tough decisions in order to further increase housing supply. I’m positive we’ll get there.
