There Goes the Neighborhood

Often I see a new home in Bucktown and immediately think: No one, not even the most persuasive architect or developer, will ever convince me this building is beautiful and improves the neighborhood. (It’s a gut reaction, but that’s a rough English translation.) This pair of homes at 1935/37 W. Dickens Ave. is a case in point:

Unusual doesn’t necessarily equal creative, and creative doesn’t necessarily equal attractive. The developer of these buildings (who perhaps also designed this building?), the facades of which blend together into one rectilinear edifice, got drunk on masonry and reflective glass. But we have to deal with the hangover.

No other buildings in Bucktown I’ve seen announce themselves so blatantly and ostentatiously. These aren’t homes — they’re temples for those who wish to scream “I’ve arrived.” I wish I didn’t have to notice. (While staring at the temples, I feared their residents would notice me and confiscate my camera.)

[The corner home, featuring a whopping 6,000 sq. feet, is currently listed here for $2.99 million — hat tip to “Pro-Gentrification Yuppie” for leading me to that site in his comment below.]

Brilliant detail in front of the corner building’s rear, a battered old car reminding me that function is always more important than form:

Despite what grizzled Chicago veterans say, the Bucktown of yesteryear is not quite dead.

A few blocks southeast from the Blue line’s Western stop, a glimpse of Bucktown’s future - ? :

A motley assortment of colors, designs and materials. Can’t say I like these building facades side-by-side (or at all), but seated as they are across from empty lots tracing the Blue Line’s Milwaukee corridor, they do offer El riders something of aesthetic interest.

A closer look at the building at N. Winnebago Ave. and W. St. Paul Ave. shows its windows pushed-out eastward (looking for morning light, I presume):

To me, awkward. The unusual central panels and windows (reminiscent of solar panels?) fail to distract from the facade’s essential plainness: a flat brick/cement rectangle. And the garages and dumpsters front and center… Hard to imagine anyone hanging a “Home Sweet Home” sign above a garage door. But you almost have to give the designer credit for bravery.

A recent NY Times article explores and critiques that city’s current “boomlet” of high-flying residential buildings designed by big-name architects. Ouroussoff is ambivalent about the designs of the “preening, sometimes beautiful, sometimes obstrusive towers,” and much of what he writes, I think, could and should also apply to Chicago:

“But the city has also been starving for innovative architecture. And to my mind the greatest residential projects of the last decade have managed to balance aesthetic freedom with a nuanced understanding of their surroundings. Rather than mimic period styles, such buildings are a physical expression of the needs and demands of the environments they inhabit.”

And the kicker, which nicely sums up my reaction to many of Chicago’s brand-new condos (I like to look at them, even when I don’t actually like them):

“We all like to look at pretty baubles, even if they tend to be hollow. But a generation from now we may look back at these condo buildings as our generation’s chief contribution to the city’s history: gorgeous tokens of a rampantly narcissistic age”

Few of Chicago’s new condos are gorgeous, but many are so aggressively novel in design that it’s hard to not think of the word “narcissism.”

Side-by-side contrasts have a way of crystallizing neighborhood architectural trends:

This section of W. McLean Ave. is a concise rebuttal to those who equate all of Chicago’s old homes with stately charm and all new condos with garish gaffes. Many of Bucktown’s old bungalows are short, squat, and just plain boring, and these two are no exceptions. Their horizontal lines (brick and clapboards) and brownness seem tired next to the relative height and reflective sheen found at 2229 W. Mclean.

Look a little closer…

…and you can find the facade of the Pulaski Fine Arts Academy across the street. I like this new home — its modesty and tastefulness, its clean lines. Unlike so many unsightly new condos in Bucktown which scream out for attention like spoiled brats, this building is admirably minimalist.

While I’m usually annoyed with dramatic breaks from surrounding designs, sometimes the look of old buildings aren’t worth honoring. This is a great example of an architect staking out new territory in an old neighborhood.

Since There Goes the Neighborhood began in January, it's been gratifying to hear from readers about some of the condos I've highlighted in posts. But it’s been decidedly ungratifying to discover some of those readers think I’m a reactionary philistine addicted to negativity. So herewith, responses to some recurring criticisms: I hate new buildings and want everything to stay the same.

"Our lives should be of leisure, playfulness, and bettering our future. So, don’t be the bigot that calls Obama a non-patriot. And don’t be the shallow loud mouth who combats change by calling it ugly." -Christopher Triplett (Full comment here.)

Not at all. Although I love the modesty and history of many of Chicago’s old homes and apartment buildings, I also love the fresh, unique designs found in many of the new condo buildings that have sprouted throughout the city during the last five years. My (admittedly amateur) interest in architecture is what draws my eyes to Chicago’s rich variety of designs and building traditions. In that sense, I am happy to encounter any new building for the stimulation it offers: Why did the architect design the building this way? How does the building integrate the aesthetics of surrounding buildings? It’s this last question that interests me most: the question of continuity. I find myself especially drawn to buildings that balance context and creativity. No one should be impressed with a new building that simply replicates surrounding structures. But a building that consciously places itself into its neighborhood’s context while still carving out its own clear identity ought to be admired. I believe architectural continuity is increasingly hard to find in many of the new buildings popping up in Chicago, at least in my neighborhood (Bucktown). That’s what this blog is about: those new condos that go too far, that disregard all aesthetic context and scream out for attention by only obeying their own rules. (Note: I fully admit my own fallibility and speak only for myself!) Do I want to live in a cookie-cutter subdivision, as one reader assumed? Of course not – that’s why I live in Chicago and not the suburbs. Do I want to live in a neighborhood full of $1 million condos that completely disregard the area’s building traditions? Of course not. My criticisms are superficial. I should go inside of buildings before I judge them.

"You would be surprised about the oddly placed windows if you were to ever experience the space from the inside. Architecture isn’t just about applying an aesthetic to the exterior of a building...but of creating SPACE." -Angelica (Full comment here.)

This is both a fair and an unfair criticism. Fair because it’s obviously superficial to judge a building solely by its exterior (what’s that old cliché about book covers?): No one can fully comprehend a building and its designer’s intentions until moving through it to understand the interplay of light and space, of its interior and exterior. At the same time, however, I don’t have time to pretend I can afford these new condos to schedule a meeting with realtors and tour them. I don’t have time to compare the architect’s design with the final product to ascertain how a developer or client might have altered blueprints to cut costs. But more to the point: As I suggested above, this blog is much more about neighborhoods than it is about individual buildings. In other words, I am more interested in how a new building relates to its surroundings than I am in its aesthetics and internal design logic. Also, I always meant this blog to be driven by photos, not text. I try to avoid sermons (whether positive or negative) at all times, and to keep posts as short as possible. I have appointed myself "town architecture critic," but I don't know anything about design.

"As you have taken up this task of town architectural critic, do you have any works of your own suggesting a prefered or alternate aestheic architects should aspire too? I would really love to see your work because I am searching for such inspiration myself." -Velma Anelo (Full comment here.)

I have appointed myself nothing! Any perception otherwise is the reader’s. That said, I fully admit I have no formal training in architecture, design or construction. What I do have is a stake in my neighborhood, a layman’s interest in Chicago’s architectural history and a camera, computer and internet connection. The fact that I’m a layman informally surveying my neighborhood’s changing architectural landscape should not disqualify me from commenting. I write as a pedestrian gazing at buildings from the outside in – just as the vast majority of Chicagoans experience their city’s buildings. And so while it might yield superficial results, I hold fast to my right to judge a building by what’s visible to those who live near it or pass by it. A few readers implied that only people deeply steeped in architectural theory and history and familiar with an architect’s specific intentions can fully understand a building. This strikes me as an exclusive and undemocratic notion – and one that ultimately defines contemporary architecture as an esoteric pursuit for only the well-educated. I am too negative.

"This project was designed by Studio Dwell, a very talented and professional Chicago-based architecture firm that has won many Chicago and National AIA design awards for their work. I personally like the project very much. Dont be so negative." -Mike (Full comment here.)

This unfortunately has been true, and I thank readers for pushing me to make more constructive comments. One person asked me to post shots of new buildings I find attractive, and I’ll endeavor to do that as much as I do the opposite. From the very beginning, There Goes the Neighborhood has always asked for readers to submit pictures of condos for posting. The offer still stands, whether or not the photographed buildings are in Chicago! Please send all photos and comments to jeremy.gantz[at]methodsreporter.com. Or simply email me with the addresses of new condos you think I should take a look at. Thanks for reading.

Every morning, as I will myself toward the Blue Line's Western stop and the Loop, I encounter this building: Contrary to what vehement critics of this blog might expect, I like this brand-new building at 1954 N. Wilmot Ave., which stands in self-conscious defiance of its mass-produced western neighbor: McDonalds. There are countless new condo buildings peppering Bucktown, but none whose unique design directly challenges the greasy predictability of America's fast food king. And few buildings challenge the plain predictability of the neighborhood's rowhouses: This is what I love encountering while walking through Chicago's gentrifying neighborhoods. The past and present, just five feet from each other, take three-dimensional form. I'm betting the building's "four contemporary homes with a modern edge," starting at $629k, don't sell too quickly, though.

While not hideous (let's call it...unorthodox), this boxy building seems to be straddling the old and new architectural trends found throughout Bucktown and other quickly developing Chicago neighborhoods: If new condos are your guide, bricks seem to have become passe, passed over for masonry and glass. But here at the intersection of North Leavitt Street and West McLean Avenue (just north of Armitage Avenue), brick, glass and stone are jumbled together into cubic confusion. The materials look less contemporary (compared to, say, this), but the design most certainly is. The sunken balconies next to (what I assume is) a false chimney are odd, but what I can't stop wondering is: How exposed do these people feel to the world? The second-floor natural light must be a fine winter tonic, but perhaps less so when the residents meet the casual gazes of passing pedestrians. I don't see any curtains.

Bucktown's old two-floor houses aren't glamorous, but they do bear themselves with quiet dignity. Sandwiched between two homes on the 1600 block of N. Wolcott (across the street from the "Urban Sandbox" mentioned in the previous post) is this new home: I love - and hate - these juxtapositions peppering Bucktown and other neighborhoods throughout the city: gentrification is rarely so clearly displayed. What are the neighbors thinking?

While walking down North Avenue this week, I glanced up Wolcott Avenue and spotted this bleak mid-winter scene: So many of the new homes being built in Bucktown have either too many windows or too few. This white, nearly finished building at 1611 N. Wolcott just has oddly placed windows, which for some reason the architect paired with large orange rectangles. It's as though the developer said, "This home needs some flair!" and the architect obliged with a few dashes of color. The facade would have been uglier with only windows on the lower half, but it's still one of Chicago's ugliest. A closer look at the building's north side reveals an odd assortment of windows and reminds me of my biggest pet peeve regarding new "high-end" homes in the city: Too often, they seem to be constructed mainly from cinder blocks -- or "masonry," as the building permit posted on the fence surrounding the property notes. Of course, eventually there will be a building next door to hide the drabness, as this advertisement's rendering shows: Maybe it was the treacherous sidewalks in front of the future five dwellings, or maybe it's just that I don't like random orange dashes lining streets, but I read this sign and thought: I do not want to play, work or live in this sandbox, and I bet the neighbors across the street in old two-story brick bungalows don't want to either.

Modernist architects, as far back as Chicago's own Louis Sullivan, like to note that "form follows function." But just as often, I think, form follows lot size. This family jewel at 1865 N. Wilmot Ave. (at the intersection of Oakley and Cortland) makes the best of a narrow triangle: Unusual, but not particularly unpleasant to walk by from this angle. I like the front cylindrical component - it makes the lot seem much less angular. Walk by it on Wilmot, though, and the building jumbles: Maybe I'm just a sucker for symmetry, but the middle piece here threw me off. It feels like three disparate chunks glued together with mortar. But kudos to the building's designer for crafting the indented, and nearly hidden, roof deck. A good place to spy on neighbors.