Brandon Donnelly

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.

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Category: Design

  • Why do haunted houses look the way that they do?

    This short 5-minute video by Vox is a perfect example of how, just like with fashion, architecture and design tastes are always changing. The things we like at one point in time may not be what we like in the future. And it can go from extreme desire to extreme disgust. In this video, Vox makes the argument that the mansions of America’s Gilded Age are the reason why all haunted houses seem to look the same in popular culture and in our imaginations.

    Once the extreme desire of America’s nouveau riche (who were clearly trying to emulate rich Europeans), they fell out of favor with the arrival of modernism and a new cultural ethos. All of a sudden it wasn’t fashionable to have copious amounts of ornament and labyrinthian-like floor plans filled with a bunch of gaudy stuff. So the rich moved on and many of these homes fell into disrepair, setting the stage for spooky thoughts.

    What’s interesting about this phenomenon is that it can make it difficult to discern what has design and cultural value and what doesn’t. Because something that has value today, may not have perceived value tomorrow (and it may also become the backdrop for future horror movies). Of course, the opposite is also true. We could hate something today, but eventually learn to love it.

    Brutalism is perhaps a good example. Though there seems to be a groundswell of people interested in preserving this style of architecture, I continue to think that it remains a generally unloved kind of built form when it comes to the general public. So does that mean it has little present and/or future value? That’s not a straightforward question.

    The other thing I find fascinating about this haunted house phenomenon is that it shows how one thing can lead to another. If the typology of haunted houses is a result of the Gilded Age mansion, then it’s also important to consider that the Gilded Age mansion is arguably a result of the new wealth that was being amassed by some Americans at the end of the 19th century.

    The Gilded Age was a period economic expansion for the United States. New fortunes were being made via rail, steel, tobacco, and other industries. (Inequality was a concern.) And this new wealth was naturally looking for a way to show off (as it usually does). That happened to manifest itself in ornate European-like mansions. But had that not happened, would haunted houses look the way that they do today?

    Happy Halloween.

  • The Map: Geometry vs. geography

    A friend of mine sent me this video today in a brief email that basically said, “you’re gonna love it.” Naturally he was right. It’s great. The 10-minute video is about how creative agency Work & Co rethought and redesigned New York City’s subway map for today’s digital age. Rather than a static map, which is historically how all cities have communicated their transit networks, they created a digital map that changes both as you interact with and as the network itself changes (closures, time of day, etc.). This means that they no longer had to make certain design compromises. They no longer had to choose between geometry (clarity of representation) and geography (accuracy of representation). The system does both.

  • Everything you need in just 16 square meters

    This ArchDaily interview with Gary Chang about nano-scaled architecture is worth a read. Gary Chang is founder of the Hong Kong-based Edge Design Institute and is a pioneer in the world of compact living and small-scale architecture.

    In fact, many of you have probably seen where he lives. His place has been widely publicized over the years. Dubbed the Domestic Transformer, Gary has been living in the same 32 square meter apartment in Hong Kong for over 40 years and has been using it as a kind of laboratory for his design work.

    Depending on where you live, 344 square feet may not seem like a lot. But this is Hong Kong. And in Hong Kong even this is apparently on the large side for some locals. In his ArchDaily interview, Gary talks about the rise of “nano-homes” in Hong Kong — everything you need, including a wine fridge, in only 16-18 square meters.

    Of course, to do this, you kind of have to reconsider how you think about space. Gary refers to it along the lines of time-based space planning. Instead of just focusing on raw space, he focuses on activities and functionality over time.

    “Over the years, I have been more focused into the notion of time rather than the physical space itself, and in this latest model M-2007 (calling it the Domestic Transformer, the year the first episode of the movie of Transformer was launched), I simply explore a time-based system of living in this apartment; instead of me moving from one room to another in the traditional sense, the apartment transforms for me for different functions. I basically utilize the entire home all the time, a great departure from the conventional definition of a home such as the system in Japan in nLDK (n denotes the number of bedrooms, L for Living Room, D for Dining Room and K for Kitchen).“

    For the full interview, click here.

  • In support of simplicity

    “Everything should be made as simple as possible, but not simpler.” I’m not exactly sure who this quote is attributed to — maybe Einstein — but regardless, I love it. I’m a big fan of simplicity.

    I have a cookbook in my kitchen by Jamie Oliver where each recipe contains no more than 5 main ingredients. There’s a picture of the 5 ingredients, a picture of the final product, and a short explanation about how to make it. It’s my favorite cookbook (and also my only cookbook).

    When I go to a restaurant I prefer to see a short menu rather than a long menu. Not only because it’s easier to make decisions that way, but because I have little confidence that a restaurant with an interminable menu can make that many terrific dishes all at once.

    And in architecture school, I remember being taught that every design project should really only have one principal idea. If you have two ideas, that’s probably one too many. Distill it down. Clarify the idea that you’re trying to communicate.

    Because here’s the thing about simplicity: it’s usually more work to make things as simple as possible, but not simpler. It takes effort. It takes iterations. Whether that be in cooking, design, or in writing.

    But once you’ve got it, simplicity is a beautiful thing. And it also greatly increases the chance that somebody will actually remember the message that you’re trying to get across. Five ingredients. A short menu. And one architectural idea. That’s all it might take.

    Photo by Jakub Dziubak on Unsplash

  • [Video] The Glenkerry House in East London

    The Open House festival is on this week in London. It’s an annual festival that celebrates London’s urban landscape and it is something that has been going on for the past three decades. (Toronto has something similar called Doors Open.) But this year, as is the case for all of us, they had to get a little creative with online events and other kinds of programming. Below is a short video that was created as part of the Open House Films collection. It is about the brutalist Glenkerry House in East London. Its architecture (by Ernő Goldfinger). Its ideals. And the people who call it home. Looking for more short urbanism films similar to this one? Look here.

  • 2.6 meters wide

    The width of a standard parking space in Toronto is generally 2.6m. I say generally because it depends on a few other factors, such as whether it’s “obstructed” or whether it’s being accessed off a substandard drive aisle. But for the purposes of this post, let’s agree that the width of a standard Toronto parking space is 2.6m.

    The reason I mention this is because Onexn Architects has recently completed a 2.6m wide cafe in Shenzhen called Joys. Pictured above, the 9 square meter space used to house an air conditioner repair shop.

    Now, some of you are probably looking at the photos and thinking that this maybe isn’t such a big deal. But small spaces force you to be creative.

    Look at the grey exterior paving that creates the impression that the cafe is spilling out onto the sidewalk. And look at how they used an illuminated 5 meter tall canopy to try and accentuate the space.

    In some places and in cities, a retail space like this might easily become forgotten space. But here, it was something worth designing.

    Photography by Li Jinhui via Dezeen

  • The grandeur of Montreal

    I was in Montreal for the long weekend and I decided to take the time off from writing. I don’t do that very often, but it was the right thing to do this past weekend.

    Montreal is one of my favorite cities. I spent quite a bit of time there when I was in my early 20s and I almost ended up at McGill for my undergraduate degree. So I have a soft spot for the place.

    One of my friends once described Montreal to me (and contrasted it against Toronto) by saying that it has grandeur. And I think that is exactly the right word.

    There are so many moments throughout the city where you just feel its impressiveness. It’s almost as if, from the very beginning, the city knew what it was destined to become.

    In contrast to this, urban planner Joe Berridge has, in the past, referred to Toronto as an accidental metropolis. And I think that is a similarly accurate way of describing our city.

    Sometimes in Toronto (or perhaps oftentimes, depending on who you ask), you have to scratch a little beneath the surface to find what makes Toronto a truly great city.

    It’s as if the city didn’t know what it was destined to become, and built accordingly. Things just happened — accidentally.

    Grandeur isn’t usually something that is discussed today in city planning circles. We instead talk about things like angular planes, context and, of course, building height.

    But maybe it’s time we rethink our list of requirements. Maybe it’s time we ask ourselves: “Are we creating a city with grandeur?”

    Image: Drone photo from the top of Mount Royal

  • Chicago’s Winter Dining Challenge

    This has been a summer of cycling, playing tennis (poorly) on Toronto’s public courts, and eating and drinking on sidewalks — sometimes with, get this, no fencing. But winter will arrive in this part of the world at some point and that will mean having to rethink our patios. I’m certain that we’ll be doing everything we can to extend the season this year because we are already seeing that take place in other cities.

    Last month, the City of Chicago launched, in partnership with IDEO, BMO Harris Bank, and the Illinois Restaurant Association, a competition called the Winter Dining Challenge. The goal is exactly what I just described. It’s to solicit creative ideas for how Chicago can make outdoor dining feasible all throughout the winter. (Chicago and Toronto have similar winters.)

    Domes, pods, and heaters are likely to feature in the submissions, which makes me wonder at what point are you basically now considered to be “inside” as opposed to “outside.” Presumably fresh air needs to factor. But I should really reserve judgement until the top ideas are selected. If you’d like to submit an “idea, concept, or startup,” you have until September 7, 2020 at 11:30 PM PT. Here’s the link.

    Photo by Austin Neill on Unsplash

  • More on the great balcony debate

    My super scientific Twitter balcony survey has revealed that most people seem to like balconies and terraces. Out of the 257 people that voted (not a huge number), 77.4% said that if they were in the market to buy or rent a new place, they would probably want a balcony or terrace. I realize now that my wording could have been more precise. Either way, the results seem to suggest a clear preference.

    But there are all sorts of reasons for why you might want to avoid building balconies: energy performance, upfront costs, long-term maintenance, usability at high elevations, overall aesthetics, and so on. In fact, I once had an architect turn down a job because they don’t typically work on residential buildings and, when they do, they refuse to work on ones that have balconies. He told me that they don’t want the liability.

    But then what inevitably happens is that the sales and marketing team joins the design meeting and says, “yeah, we hear what you’re saying, but people like outdoor spaces.” And then the great debate starts. Okay, so what percentage of the suites should have an outdoor space? What about a sliding glass well? I think so-and-so is doing it on their project. Yeah, but they’re real expensive and they leak air.

    The reality is that there are many buildings without private outdoor spaces and there are many cities where it is common not to build them. Moreover, my Twitter survey doesn’t really tell you exactly how people might behave when they’re about to make a purchasing decision. What you really want are data points and things like A/B tests.

    Let’s take for example two typical/identical 600 square foot suites, with the only difference being that one has a balcony and the other doesn’t. Now let’s say that the one with a balcony is selling for $1,400 psf or $840,000 and the one without a balcony is selling for $1,350 psf or $810,000. Will some of the 77.4% that voted balcony/terrace possibly buy the $810,000 suite? Of course. Because it’s less expensive.

    So how does one go about making the right decision when it comes to designing for outdoor spaces? Well, in some cases, you won’t have a choice. We have had instances where the City has asked us (okay, forced us) to remove all of the balconies on a particular elevation because they didn’t fit with the urban design aesthetic that they wanted for the streetscape. That always pisses me off.

    That aside, my view — and this is just my opinion — is that you can’t generalize when trying to make this decision. You need to carefully consider who your customer is or will be. I’ve written before about the divide between investor demand and end-user demand in residential buildings. It impacts design, and outdoor spaces are no different.

    If you take for example Junction House, it is a predominately end-user building. That’s who we thought would be buying and that is who bought. When the team was designing the two-storey House Collection, the intent was to create a kind of substitute for low-rise housing. And so these homes had to have outdoor spaces (they have terraces). This was never a question or a debate.

    Similarly, one of the reasons why One Delisle looks the way that it does is because the team set out to create unique terraces, as well as varying outdoor spaces, all throughout the tower. The thinking was, “people like terraces in mid-rise buildings, like Junction House, so let’s figure out how to do that in a high-rise building typology.”

    At the same time, we have suites with Juliet balconies at Junction House and it is certainly true that the above recipes may not be suitable for every project. Again, there are lots of buildings without private outdoor spaces, including ones that have sold during this pandemic. One of the things that I have also discovered is that common area outdoor spaces and nearby green spaces can have an impact on whether or not people feel they need private outdoor space.

    All of this to say that one size does not fit all. Which is probably why this topic remains such a great debate.

    Note: I am making a distinction between balconies and terraces. Balconies typically cantilever out from a building and are not insulated. Terraces, on the other hand, are typically a roof condition in that they sit above a conditioned space. This usually means that the concrete slab will need to get “built up” with insulation and paving. A drainage system will also be required.

    Image: Junction House

  • How local is local, really?

    Real estate, as they say, is a local business. Every market has its local nuances. For example, once of the first things that Studio Gang asked us when we started working together was, “does Toronto do PT?” What they were referring to was post-tensioned concrete and our answer was, “not really.” There are certainly examples of localized applications within buildings (such as for a specific transfer slab) and there are examples of buildings that have used it throughout (see Pier 27 Tower below — it’s how they managed to get such deep balconies). But for the most part, it’s not widely used and it’s certainly not as common as it is in markets such as New York. This subtle difference has an impact on how you design, which is why Studio Gang asked it from the outset.

    Despite some of these local differences, there is a criticism out there that we have descended upon a kind of bland global design sensibility. No matter where you’re building, every building now looks the same, which, at the end of the day, was kind of the point of the International Style of architecture. One design approach applied universally. This recent article by Edwin Heathcote takes things even further by saying that our interiors have also been sterilized to look more or less the same as a result of “digital aesthetic seepage.” The article is called, “The curse of the Airbnb aesthetic.”

    One the one hand, there is something inevitable about this outcome. We — including our supply chains — have become more interconnected than ever. And because of the high cost of labor, the way we build today is centered around as much factory automation as possible. Minimize what needs to be done on site. And given that I would expect more, rather than less, automation going forward, one has to assume that this trend is destined to continue. At the same time, local places matter and one of the reasons why so many of us love to travel is that we want to see places that are different than our own. I for one don’t want that to change.