Editorial 1.8, August 1999, by Deirdre Helfferich Box Blight Antidote People have been asking me what that new building by the post office is going to be. I have no idea. Speculations run the gamut from porno movie theatre to gift shop to bank to grocery store to laundromat, any one of which would certainly make life a little more interesting around here. Nobody wants to actually go and ask, of course, because that would spoil the mystery. It’s much more fun to sit around and gossip about it. But new construction always makes me a bit nervous, because there is such a penchant in Alaskan architecture for The Box. Cubes are fairly energy-efficient because they enclose a large volume relative to their surface area, an important feature in a cold climate. With an abbreviated building season, it’s vital to get something up before the snow flies. My husband, a carpenter, can attest to the popularity of this architectural design motif: cheap, easy to build, simple to design, easy to find the door, etc. To my way of thinking, however, there is a significant problem with this shape: it’s dull. Some buildings go to the extreme of sculpture, and I’m sure they are interesting to live in. But most people don’t have the cash or time to do this if they wanted to. Public buildings sometimes get playful (such as the opera house in Sydney, or the Arctic Research Center at the university). Unfortunately, even mildly inventive places can get pricey, so the warehouse look predominates. Warehouse architecture is characterized by the box shape (featuring a flat roof guaranteed to leak in less than two years), and one of two basic exterior colors: brown or grey. Every once in a while, as in the Federal Building, somebody gets a little crazy and uses orange. Graffitists find it difficult to resist such lovely surfaces, and often cover them up with indecipherable calligraphy (not what I’d call an improvement). Downtown Fairbanks boasts several large murals, and it’s a pity that more buildings aren’t being transformed into giant, three-dimensional displays of artwork. Banks are fond of Warehouse style (for large public buildings) and Box style (for smaller, private structures), because they like buildings that go up in three months. This is a natural function of our short building season and our boom-and-bust history, wherein a long-term building project, begun with a loan started in boomtime but ended by bankruptcy proceedings during the bust, can mean that the bank ends up owning an unfinished house. Developers also love the Box, more for the pure rapidity with which they can recoup their investment than any intrinsic appreciation of the simplicity of its lines. My personal peeve is the River’s Edge Resort, an example of (to me) painfully ugly box development, where, oddly enough, tourists actually stay. I can only think of a company shantytown when I look at the way they are crammed next to each other, and the words from a song roll through my head whenever I see it: "Little boxes made of ticky-tacky, and they all look just the same…." I wonder what the tourists would think of it if they had seen this once-beautiful curve of the Chena the way canoeists used to enjoy it as they floated along on summer days. I’ve been in many places whose outsides don’t promise very much, but whose insides are truly wonderful. A house with interesting ceilings, nifty windows, and corners that give a spacious and relaxing feel is not in the least boring. Why can’t the outside reflect this interior warmth? A simple exterior doesn’t have to be dull—an attractive balance is often achieved with landscaping and attention to ornamentation, color, or texture. It would be nice to be able to judge a house by its cover, since this is what is visible to most of the world. Which brings me back to new construction in Ester. I like a place where buildings have some zip, reflecting the originality and friendliness of the people who live there. The new mystery building could still turn out to have an interesting twist or two, like the turreted log structure (affectionately known as Frank’s Castle) going up next to the Golden Eagle. The Ester Stash across the way is practically a sculpture park festooned with flowers. There are a good many more examples of interesting design to draw from here. I hope that builders continue to express Ester’s imagination, and don’t succumb to the blandness of the Box. | ||
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