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.
This is an incredibly well done video by Pablo Casals Aguirre of BIG’s recently completed IQON tower in Quito, Ecuador. What’s great is that it both showcases the building’s architecture and gives you a sense of what it might be like to live in a tower like this. And it does this beautifully.
If you can’t see the embedded video above, click here.
We have spoken about Paris’ Tour Montparnasse before on the blog, and spoken more broadly about the city’s discomfort with tall buildings. The Tour Montparnasse is the only skyscraper within the city limits of Paris. If you include the Eiffel Tower, it is one of only two really tall things, though this will soon increase to three with the addition of Herzog and de Meuron’s new trapezoidal-shaped tower (now under construction).
The Tour Montparnasse turned 50 this year and so people are now writing about it again. In my opinion, this recent piece in the New Yorker, by Colin Marshall, is particularly thoughtful. Here are two important points that he makes. The first has to do with the fact that kind of old usually isn’t enough when it comes to architecture. You need buildings to be really old before they get fully appreciated:
Architectural fashion treasures hundred-and-fifty-year-old structures but derides fifty-year-old ones; hence the works of brutalism that have faced the wrecking ball in recent years. “The destruction of brutalist buildings is more than the destruction of a particular mode of architecture,” Jonathan Meades says, in his television documentary “Bunkers, Brutalism and Bloodymindedness: Concrete Poetry.” “It is like burning books. It’s a form of censorship of the past, a discomfiting past, by the present. It’s the revenge of a mediocre age on an age of epic grandeur.”
The second point is maybe an obvious one:
Aberrations like the Tour Montparnasse only underscore how much Paris remains Haussman’s city, its core frozen in a nineteenth century whose built environment can be restored, and in some cases discreetly renovated, but which—so the severity of the restrictions implies—can never fundamentally be improved upon.
This is, however, a crucial point. Because it directs to why the Tour Montparnasse is so jarring to many, or perhaps most. It is jarring because it is so obviously different from its surrounding 19th century context. It is clearly not that. But as Marshall points out, one way to address this would be to simply add more 21st century context throughout the city.
Of course, this is easier said than done. It would require a new mental model — one that accepts that the built form of Paris is not static and can be allowed to evolve. We’re not there yet. But maybe the current renovation of Tour Montparnasse, or the city’s new triangle tower, will give people a fresh set of eyes when it comes to buildings taller than 37 meters.
Photo by Maeva Hemon on Unsplash
Is it the architect? The developer? Or perhaps the city? The correct answer, it would seem, is whoever has the most followers on social media:
For the Norwegian branch of the social media movement Architectural Uprising, this revision was another feather in its cap. Founded in Sweden in 2014 as a public Facebook group, the Uprising is a collective of citizen design critics who object to what organizers call the “continued uglification” of developments in Nordic cities, and push for a return to classically informed design. With more than 100,000 social media followers across some 40 different branches, the group now serves as a significant platform for those who assert that the public, not just bureaucrats, architects, developers and property owners, ought to have a voice in the design of their built environments.
As a developer and person who studied architecture, I find this frustrating. Imagine you’re a painter working in a busy public square. And every time somebody walks by and shouts a new criticism, you need to change your art. How would you feel about your work?
Now assume that your painting is an expensive commission. Your clients just re-mortgaged their home to pay for it and they specifically asked you for a painting that looks like something from Henri Matisse’s “Blue Nudes” collection.
Unfortunately, the crowd in the public square wasn’t a fan of the color blue or of abstract figures, and so you’ve instead rendered dozens of well-fed Renaissance figures sitting in a lively garden eating grapes. “Sorry, hope you like it. This is what the critics wanted.”
Look, I may be stretching here. I fully appreciate that architecture is inherently a more public form of art than painting. I just think it’s important to give entrepreneurs, artists, and other creatives the freedom to experiment.
If we force everyone to look toward the past, how will the misfits ever create the future?
P.S. I have no issue with voting on publicly-funded architecture. I actually think that’s a good idea.
If you work in the development industry in Toronto, then you know, or know of, Norm Li. He runs one of the top visual content studios in the city and the country. But he (and the company) also do a bunch of other things like DJ at industry events and fly around in a helicopter taking incredible photos of the city from above. He invited me to join him in 2018 and I captured photos like these.
This past week he sent me a text with the below photos of Junction House and a message saying, “new lock screen.” I, of course, immediately blasted them around to the team and then asked if I could post them online. I love how these turned out. And every time I see our placemaking sign, I am happy that we fought for what we all believed would end up looking pretty cool.
Thanks for the photos, Norm.
I had an interesting meeting today talking about the structural approach behind this OMA-designed project in Brooklyn (pictured above).
I have always found structural engineering fascinating. Structures, along with physics, were some of my favorite classes from high school all the way to grad school. So even though I don’t think my personality is ideally suited to engineering, if I were ever to become an engineer, I’m fairly certain that I would need to be a structural one.
For this project the big structural challenge was the large cantilevers that you see above in the tower on the left. As I understand it, there a number of ways to deal with this. One way would be to just design large transfer slabs and/or beams. But given the size of this tower, these would end up being very deep, and so you’d be really compromising the spaces where these structural transfers occur.
How they actually dealt with it is through sloping columns (which you can see in the above photo if you look closely). What these columns do is gradually transfer the loads across multiple floors in the building, until they reach structure that runs all the way down the tower.
At the same time, the spaces underneath the sloping columns are essentially “hung” from above. Meaning the columns are in tension, instead of being in compression, which is typically how columns work. The result is that you get some sloping columns in the suites. But I think that’s kind of cool. If you’re nerdy enough to care, it tells you how the structure of the building is working.
Obvious disclaimer: I am not a structural engineer. You probably want to consult one if you’re looking to do a cantilevered tower with sloping columns.
One of the things that I have learned over the years from sitting on panel discussions about city building is that, if I talk about the challenges and economic realities of development, I will be less popular than if I just tell feel-good stories about urbanism and architecture. The latter is often what people want to hear. It’s more exciting.
But to ignore the economic realities of the world is to ignore real solutions. And this, as I have talked about before, is one of the main qualms that I had with architecture school. Money, economics, and real estate matters were tertiary, if not entirely taboo. Just focus on the purity of design and everything else will resolve itself.
Now don’t get me wrong, I love design. It is fundamental. But so are a bunch of other things, which is why I think this article, by Benjamin Schneider, hits the nail on the head. It is specifically a review of a MoMA exhibit called New York, New Publics, but really the overarching message is this one here: “Enough with the feel-good architecture.”
To tell a feel-good story within this framework, urban development projects must be edited and curated to cleanse them of these associations. Favored projects must somehow appear to transcend capitalism, NIMBYism, an anti-urban federal government, and the compromises inherent in the transformation of the built environment. Because this is impossible—except in the case of marginal beautification projects—the public is left with false expectations about how cities get built, making the hard stuff even harder to pull off.
City building always involves compromises. But the more we’re upfront about what they are, the sooner we’ll get to more optimal solutions.
One of the most important considerations for livability in a multi-family building is the elevators. And as someone who has lived in a condominium building for the last 10 years, I know firsthand that it can be frustrating when they aren’t working properly. So this is obviously something that we pay a lot of attention to in our own projects.
The very general and crude rule of thumb is that you want at least 1 elevator for every 100 homes. For example, at Junction House, we have 151 suites and 2 elevators. So that means we have 1 elevator for every ~76 homes. At One Delisle, we have 371 suites and 4 elevators. So 1 for every ~93 homes. At the same time, I live in a building with 357 suites and 3 elevators (1 for every 119), and it works just fine.
But again, this is a very general rule of thumb. There are many other factors that can influence performance such as the number of levels in the building, the number of suites per floor, the number of below-grade parking levels, and so on. In my building, we have all above-grade parking, so I’m sure that impacts things.
If you have a building with a lot of below-grade parking, that will generally decrease performance all else being equal (i.e. increase weight times). Because now you have that many more stops, even if the number of homes remains constant above.
One common way to mitigate these impacts is to add a parking shuttle elevator. This is a dedicated elevator for just the parking levels, and it’s something that you’ll often see in office buildings. This helps service levels. It can also help the overall building efficiency (saleable area/gross construction area) by potentially eliminating the need for another elevator shaft in the above-grade levels.
But the trade-off is that you now need to transfer elevators, usually at the ground floor. Some people don’t mind this and think it helps with building security. If someone sneaks into the garage, there’s another obstacle to getting up into the residential floors. But it does mean that if you’re coming home with groceries in your hands, you need to take 2 elevators.
I’d be curious to hear from all of you what you think about parking shuttle elevators in residential buildings. Because I suspect that as building heights increase and as parking ratios continue to decline, parking shuttle elevators will likely become more common in cities like Toronto. Let me know in the comments below.
Disclaimer: I am not an elevator consultant! I am telling you just what I have learned over the years from speaking with actual professionals. So I recommend you speak with one before making any important elevator decisions on your own projects.
Photo by Edwin Chen on Unsplash
Yesterday evening I visited the future of Toronto’s neighborhoods. It is located at 367 Howland Avenue. And it takes the form of 10 homes on a lot that previously used to house only 1. Developed by Green Street Flats and designed by Craig Race Architecture, it is a near perfect example of what Toronto hopes to achieve with its new multiplex policies. As Craig put it last night, “we found the missing middle!”
Now to be fair, this is a double lot, measuring about 10m wide in total. And so this is twice the size of what the new policies now allow on a single lot — a fourplex plus a laneway suite or garden suite (4+1). But it is still generally consistent with what you could do today if you had two contiguous lots.
That said, this project predates the new multiplex policies, meaning it required a long list of zoning variances and it led to an inevitable fight with the neighbors. This small project required an 8-day contested hearing before it was granted approval! Start to finish, Howland took over 3 years.
That is ridiculous and so I think all of us should view the new multiplex policies as meaningful progress in our city. What was once contentious and a huge pain is now permissible as-of-right. Isn’t it funny how rules and perspectives change? “No, you can’t do this! Okay, now you can. Please do a lot of it.” So for the purposes of this post, let’s talk about Howland as if it were built on an as-of-right basis and you could do the same on your own lot if you were so inclined.
From a design perspective, the homes are organized as follows:
There’s a full-floor basement suite, a full-floor suite on the main level, two back-to-back two-storey upper suites, and then a laneway suite at the back. One reason for this configuration is that it means you never have to walk up more than one flight of stairs to get to your main living space. This was one of the design criteria and I think it works very well. Here’s an example of what this looks like (this is a suite #3):
For this particular site, the entrance to suite #4 is at the back of the fourplex and accessed via an adjacent laneway. But for the “inboard” fourplex, each suite is accessed via the main street. Once again, I think this all works very well. I just wonder if there could be an opportunity to shave additional costs by moving some of the circulation outside (kind of like this). I guess it would depend on the width of the lot.
Of course, the big question remains: Do projects of this scale actually make any money? Because if they don’t, then people aren’t going to continue building them. Though, I would say there are two ways to think about underwriting a project like this.
The first is from a 100% investment standpoint: build 5 homes, rent 5 homes, and then collect a reasonable risk-adjusted return. The second is a hybrid approach. Maybe it’s build 5 homes, rent 4 homes, and live in the other one. In this case, the math is likely a bit different. It could just be about subsidizing your living expenses as opposed to generating a commensurate return.
But in both cases, we know that these are very skinny projects. You need to be extra careful with your costs. And from what I gleaned last night, 6 or more suites is a better underwriting starting point (compared to 5). We also know that these projects only pencil with CMHC financing. Period. Full stop. If CMHC financing were to go away or meaningfully change, so to do these missing middle projects.
So as we look toward the future of housing in Toronto’s neighborhoods, we need to keep in mind that these projects happen very much on the margin (as does all development, but it’s an even thinner line here). Meaning it remains to be seen whether these will happen at scale across the city, which is now the hope. It’ll also be interesting to see if developers like Green Street don’t scale up over time. I suspect they will.
Congratulations to Green Street Flats, Craig Race Architecture, and the rest of the team on helping to pioneer this new housing typology. It’s a glimpse of the future and, judging by the turnout at last night’s open house, Toronto is ready for it.
Tishman Speyer, the San Francisco Giants, and MVRDV have just completed a new residential building in San Francisco called “The Canyon.”
The first phase of the larger Mission Rock masterplan (which also includes a project by Studio Gang), the complex got its name because of a walkway that cuts through the plinth of the building and that, well, looks like a canyon. You can see it in the above image if you look closely. There are even stairs that take you up as you walk through it.
But what is most interesting about this walkway is not its geological reference. It would be how it performs at the ground floor and for the homes that face into it. It’s a way of creating a narrow mid-block connection (and we like narrow streets), while at the same time allowing more light into the center of the block.
So I’d be curious to see/experience what it’s like in the middle of this canyon. Hopefully it’s interesting.
Photo: Jason O’Rear
This proposal by Dubbeldam Architecture + Design, called Incremental Density, is both an obvious step in the right direction and a problem. It is directionally right because it is exactly the kind of “gentle density” that we need and that many of us hope to see in our cities.
Four to six storeys, prototypically built on an as-of-right basis all across city, possibly by small-scale owner/developers. In fact, this approach is one of the things that Toronto’s new mayor, Olivia Chow, has been speaking about on her first day in the office:
Further, Chow said she wants to make it “easy and fast” for those who want to “build up” their single-family, often detached, homes to address what is known as the “missing middle” due to a history of “red tape” around zoning.
“What I’m saying is ‘build, build, build, build,’ up to four storeys if you want to have four units,” she said. “You can rent out three of them and some money right. Then you are creating more housing, and you’re earning some extra dollars,” she continued.
“So I want to unleash the power of the homeowner and say to them, ‘go build it,’ because we need housing right here now.”
Here’s the problem, though. I’m going to go out on a limb and assume that at least a few people will not want 6 storeys beside them and their backyard. I mean, I struggled with a 2.5 storey laneway house for many years. (11 to be exact.)
So how do we get from where we are today to what you see above? It’s going to take some finessing. Maybe it’s only in specific areas and on certain sites to start, or maybe we need to gradually increase the massing over time. Either way, I too am ready to “build, build, build, build.”
What do you all think of this proposal?
Images: Dubbeldam
