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The original article can be found on SFGate.com here:
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/c/a/2007/02/25/MNG2DOATDN1.DTL
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Sunday, February 25, 2007 (SF Chronicle)
TOWERING EXPECTATIONS/S.F.'s new federal building challenges ideas of what a government high-rise should look like -- its humane design is green, dazzling
John King, Chronicle Urban Design Writer
San Francisco has never seen a tower like the federal building about to
open at Seventh and Mission streets.
Neither has the United States.
No other tower in America is shaped so resolutely by the desire to create
a healthy environment for workers while reducing the use of energy and
natural resources. And no other high-rise so casually defies expectations
of how a tower "ought" to look.
The result is both daunting and dazzling, up to and including the
stainless steel panels that fold over the broad concrete frame like some
immense origami whim.
Like it or not, this is architecture at its provocative best. The 18-story
structure and its four-story annex show how buildings fit together. They
demonstrate that simple materials can be used in fresh ways, and they prod
you to think about how design and the environment are linked.
The complex includes the annex that sits at a right angle to Mission
Street and a plaza framing a small cafe building at the corner of Seventh
and Mission. But the attention-getter is the tower -- a slab parallel to
Market Street that's 345 feet wide, 240 feet tall and 60 feet deep.
The south-facing wall is draped in panels of perforated stainless steel, a
theatrical sunscreen that seems to ripple and snag as it careens toward
the plaza. The northern facade is entirely different: It could almost be
mistaken for a scaffold as floor-to-ceiling glass spreads out behind a
taut grid of metal catwalks and 55 thin rows of opaque glass fins.
Crowning all this are steep folds of perforated steel that form a hollow
cone held in place by V-shaped trusses. The panels hide rooftop mechanical
systems and accentuate the slab's height, tapering from east to west.
The federal building is even more conspicuous because nearby blocks are
low; it becomes a billboard of contemporary design looming large in views
from Interstate 80 and Nob Hill. It provides a blunt finale to the view
through Civic Center from the steps of City Hall.
If they'd had a choice, city planners wouldn't have allowed either the
slab or the imposing design, because the complex sits across Seventh
Street from the U.S. Court of Appeals building, a Beaux-Arts landmark from
1905. But city zoning doesn't apply to federal projects.
Nor could local planners veto the federal decision to choose
experimentation over elegance by awarding the $144 million project to
architect Thom Mayne of Santa Monica, whose firm Morphosis was joined by
the San Francisco office of Smith Group as executive architect.
Mayne's trademark is monochromatic drama, and here it's stretched to
skyline scale. Tucked inside, though, is a truly humane building shaped by
environmental considerations.
The slab is thin enough for daylight to penetrate into each floor of the
tower. The dimensions also allow for cross-ventilation with operable
windows. The glass fins on the north facade serve the same purpose as the
theatrical veil: They keep direct sunlight away from workers, filtering
out heat and glare.
The approach isn't completely radical -- climate considerations shaped
buildings for centuries until technology made it possible for towers to be
hermetically sealed cocoons. But it is expected to keep the building's
energy use 50 percent below the target for new federal buildings.
The tower also nudges workers to exercise. Most elevators stop only at
every third level, forcing employees to use stairs for part of the journey
(one elevator is available for people who need it). To make the climb
enticing, wide staircases march past collegial atriums and stop at
protruding picture windows.
This attention to environmental details helped Mayne and Smith Group win
the job, according to Maria Ciprazo of the General Services
Administration. "They brought the idea 'why can't you enjoy where you
work' and pushed it from there," said Ciprazo, the federal architect
overseeing the project.
Mayne was also hired because of the GSA's laudable "Design Excellence
Program." Started in 1994, it seeks out fresh talent for federal projects
and lets each region choose the firms it wants.
When Mayne was selected in 1999, he was little known except among
architectural insiders. No longer. Morphosis has completed a series of
highly praised public projects and is now at work on a jazz center for New
Orleans and a Paris high-rise that would rival the Eiffel Tower in height.
In 2005, he became the first American in 14 years to receive the Pritzker
Architecture Prize, the profession's highest honor.
The federal building shows that Mayne hasn't toned down his designs for
larger clients.
Take those perforated steel panels that filter sunlight and serve as
thermal buffers. They could have been a simple parallel veil hung
alongside the tower. Instead they cascade from the roof and then rear back
at the plaza's edge, exposing trusses and bolts.
And the elaborate crown atop the slab has nothing to do with
sustainability. It's architectural bravado abetted by Ove Arup & Partners,
the project's engineering firm.
What's exciting about Mayne's recent work is that the bravado comes with
an imaginative social conscience.
The obvious example in San Francisco is the emphasis on sustainable
design, but there's also an effort to make the new federal building feel
like it belongs to all of us.
Given 9/11 and other attacks on government buildings, Mayne could only go
so far; security concerns leave their mark on the design. There's
windowless concrete where buildings face sidewalks. The thick glass at the
Seventh Street entrance is blast resistant.
The low bars of concrete scattered along the edge of the plaza are places
to sit -- and car-repellent barriers.
Even so, the 1,700 workers who begin moving in this week aren't the only
people who'll have access to the site. The plaza is a public space, one
that's sure to be closely monitored. Underneath the final tumbles of
sunscreen are a child care center and an auditorium that will be available
for community meetings.
Most spectacular of all is the 11th floor "skygarden," a box-shaped space
that's three stories high and open to the air. It will be accessible to
anyone willing to go through the airport-like security detectors at the
tower's entrance.
Not all the flourishes at Seventh and Mission pay off, to be sure.
One problem is that the perforated sunscreen seems heavy; during much of
the day it looks more like a dull blanket than a sleek veil.
Another miscalculation is the roof of the cafe, which is topped by a
tangle of trusses and panels.
The idea was for the veil to leap across the plaza, and from above it
looks fine. Up close? You'd think a giant robotic spider landed on the
cafe and is about to pry it open.
Inevitably, the federal building stirs comparisons with the M.H. de Young
Museum in Golden Gate Park that opened in 2005 -- another adamantly modern
building by winners of the Pritzker prize.
That museum by Swiss architects Jacques Herzog and Pierre de Meuron is
equally unorthodox at first glance, but it's more refined and low-key.
Mayne's design revels in putting raw materials on show.
But both buildings make the same point: There's more to architecture than
endless replays of the past.
San Francisco's character is rich and rooted. It also has been redefined
from day one by immigrants and cultural trends. The city only grows
stronger by exposure to fresh ideas -- including buildings that make you
look twice, and make you think hard.
E-mail John King at
[email protected].
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Copyright 2007 SF Chronicle
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