Thursday, January 26, 2012
Brief Interlude (a.k.a. Holy Biplanes, Batman!)
Because it's time to write a post, and because I don't have time to write a real post right now, and because this image has been on my mind all day, I now happily direct your eyes towards one of my favorite local blogs, Vintage Portland.
Monday, January 2, 2012
Cornices and capitals, dentils and dormers, pilasters and pediments
This is the second of two blogs, the second of two posts in a week. Maybe I really am going to get back into the discipline of posting. Let's just say it was an eight month sabbatical.
Yes, that's it. A sabbatical.
In any case, here are the photos I took at the end of last May with every intention of creating this post then. These first few shots were all taken while looking out in various directions from the top level of the parking garage on Yamhill and 10th. In my mind and history, this will always be the Finnegan's Toy Store garage (ah...she's seventeen this week. Sigh...), even though they have apparently moved to a new location on Washington without consulting me even once. I am clearly more loyal than they, however, so let's start with the building next to the one Finnegan's used to occupy. And if that logic convinced you, I have some cheap property in Manhattan you might be interested in...
In all seriousness, though, this is the Pythian Building:
Built in 1907, this building apparently used to be a Masonic lodge (hmmm...anyone ever notice how many of those there seem to be around here?). These days, aside from the nifty art supply store housed on the street level corner of 9th and Yamhill, there are also not one but TWO ballrooms, one housed on the second floor (the Adrianna Hill Grand Ballroom, stunning commercial photos of which can be seen here) and one on the fifth (the Crown Ballroom, also gorgeous if the websites are to be believed) as well the studios of organizations like the Conduit Dance Company. Bart King, author of An Architectural Guidebook to Portland, notes a comment that this building has some of the "most dramatic brickwork in this city." Maybe so, but it sounds like there's a lot going on inside the walls as well.
A bit to the west rise the familiar finishings of the Multnomah County Central Library.
Sooner or later, I'll dedicate an entire post to this building, mostly because it still entrances the imagination of this girl from small-town Kentucky as a shining example of what a "real" library should be. It's enough for now to say that it's an A.C. Doyle design (which may itself be enough to make me predisposed to love the building). Also, I find it curious that, with all of the lovely smaller Carnegie libraries scattered around the outer reaches of Portland, the city refused assistance from the Carnegies for this building, apparently feeling too much civic pride to look anywhere other than its own coffers for such an undertaking (again I attribute this bit to King). This was, of course, after significant public debate over whether a public source of free access to books would cause said public to value said books less.
And then, to the north, there is the Gov'ner (if only you could hear the bad, bad Cockney accent coming through your screen right now):
The Governor Hotel was known as the Seward Hotel for the first twenty-five years or so of its existence. Several sources describe the style as art-nouveau-meets-native-American, and this is probably fairly accurate when considering the cornice shot I offer here. Really, the gargoyles (the official website calls them that, so I guess I will, too)have always made me think of a strand of dangling robots (and the extended history tells me I'm not alone in that). That is, a strand of elegant and refined dangling robots, of course.
Last in my rooftop tour of the Yamhill Smart Park is a building which has always caught my eye (as well as, I'm certain, the eyes of thousands of others): the Oregon Journal building, aka Jackson Tower. Really, I'm not sure there is a prettier building in downtown Portland, at this time of year (the winter holidays, not May when the photo was taken) in particular, when the "wedding-cake" top and festive nighttime lighting seem quite appropriate.
What's really interesting is that the very thing which draws our eyes to the tower was part of the original design: the architects incorporated 1800 bulbs right into the facade--they wanted this clock to be SEEN. King (again) also notes that fear of nightime raids caused the lights to be turned off during WWII, and relit only after 30 years had passed. I'm glad we got over that phobia. Wikipedia tells me the clock stopped working last summer, but I'm having a little trouble telling if this is still true. Too bad I didn't know to check the time when I was in Pioneer Square today.
For the fun of it, I'm going to end with a 1915 photo taken at the base of the Jackson Tower (copied and pasted from the historical photo archive) . I mean, who doesn't love a man on a Harley?
Yes, that's it. A sabbatical.
In any case, here are the photos I took at the end of last May with every intention of creating this post then. These first few shots were all taken while looking out in various directions from the top level of the parking garage on Yamhill and 10th. In my mind and history, this will always be the Finnegan's Toy Store garage (ah...she's seventeen this week. Sigh...), even though they have apparently moved to a new location on Washington without consulting me even once. I am clearly more loyal than they, however, so let's start with the building next to the one Finnegan's used to occupy. And if that logic convinced you, I have some cheap property in Manhattan you might be interested in...
In all seriousness, though, this is the Pythian Building:
Built in 1907, this building apparently used to be a Masonic lodge (hmmm...anyone ever notice how many of those there seem to be around here?). These days, aside from the nifty art supply store housed on the street level corner of 9th and Yamhill, there are also not one but TWO ballrooms, one housed on the second floor (the Adrianna Hill Grand Ballroom, stunning commercial photos of which can be seen here) and one on the fifth (the Crown Ballroom, also gorgeous if the websites are to be believed) as well the studios of organizations like the Conduit Dance Company. Bart King, author of An Architectural Guidebook to Portland, notes a comment that this building has some of the "most dramatic brickwork in this city." Maybe so, but it sounds like there's a lot going on inside the walls as well. A bit to the west rise the familiar finishings of the Multnomah County Central Library.
Sooner or later, I'll dedicate an entire post to this building, mostly because it still entrances the imagination of this girl from small-town Kentucky as a shining example of what a "real" library should be. It's enough for now to say that it's an A.C. Doyle design (which may itself be enough to make me predisposed to love the building). Also, I find it curious that, with all of the lovely smaller Carnegie libraries scattered around the outer reaches of Portland, the city refused assistance from the Carnegies for this building, apparently feeling too much civic pride to look anywhere other than its own coffers for such an undertaking (again I attribute this bit to King). This was, of course, after significant public debate over whether a public source of free access to books would cause said public to value said books less.And then, to the north, there is the Gov'ner (if only you could hear the bad, bad Cockney accent coming through your screen right now):
The Governor Hotel was known as the Seward Hotel for the first twenty-five years or so of its existence. Several sources describe the style as art-nouveau-meets-native-American, and this is probably fairly accurate when considering the cornice shot I offer here. Really, the gargoyles (the official website calls them that, so I guess I will, too)have always made me think of a strand of dangling robots (and the extended history tells me I'm not alone in that). That is, a strand of elegant and refined dangling robots, of course.Last in my rooftop tour of the Yamhill Smart Park is a building which has always caught my eye (as well as, I'm certain, the eyes of thousands of others): the Oregon Journal building, aka Jackson Tower. Really, I'm not sure there is a prettier building in downtown Portland, at this time of year (the winter holidays, not May when the photo was taken) in particular, when the "wedding-cake" top and festive nighttime lighting seem quite appropriate.
What's really interesting is that the very thing which draws our eyes to the tower was part of the original design: the architects incorporated 1800 bulbs right into the facade--they wanted this clock to be SEEN. King (again) also notes that fear of nightime raids caused the lights to be turned off during WWII, and relit only after 30 years had passed. I'm glad we got over that phobia. Wikipedia tells me the clock stopped working last summer, but I'm having a little trouble telling if this is still true. Too bad I didn't know to check the time when I was in Pioneer Square today.For the fun of it, I'm going to end with a 1915 photo taken at the base of the Jackson Tower (copied and pasted from the historical photo archive) . I mean, who doesn't love a man on a Harley?
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