This is a letter I sent just the other day (September 11, 2006) toFocus Magazine, which I actually hope won't get published, because if it does, I'll surely be run out of town for being a witch or something.... Focus is likely to be read by quite a few people who actually exist around here, whereas this wiki is read by practically no one, so I feel ok publishing the letter here.

In the letter I attack the Victorian architectural twin sacred cows of the Victoria Conference Centre (which I think is one of the absolutely ugliest buildings in town) and the Terasen Gas Building, which might not be repulsive like the Conference Centre, but which also isn't a great building. That alone is enough to get pelted with rotten tomatoes around here... And I wrote it in the evening with a touch of flu coming on, and managed to hit a particularly school-marmish tone that sets even my hardened ears on edge. Oh. well.

My letter was in response specifically to a column by Gene Miller, who wrote an article for this September issue called "Aggressive Planhandling," urban planning wordplay on "panhandling," which deserves its own wiki entry (look for it later in Sept.), for panhandling has become a very very sore point around here recently; and in response to an article by Sam Williams, called "Should the market decide?" wherein he argues that the height restrictions that apply to downtown Victoria need to be turfed out. It was a deliberately hyperbolic and challenging article, and while I agreed with its spirit, I disagreed with Williams's critique of a recent building,The Corazon (built by the same developer who built the Terasen Gas Building), which he compared (unfavourably) with the more recent Astoria building on Humboldt St. (Actually, the Williams article was posted on Skyscraperpage with plenty of ensuing commentary and discussion; in case of general link rot, see this page for the specific posting of Williams's article.)

Anyway, my letter:

September 11, 2006 to Focus Magazine (unpublished, to date):
Dear Leslie Campbell,

Thank you for another issue of Focus, whose articles run the gamut from thoughtful to humourous to provocative and back again. I always enjoy Susan Musgrave's column, but this time, Gene Miller's piece nearly convulsed me with Schadenfreude, except that I reined myself in because we now all understand that this particular emotion is, if not politically incorrect, at any rate regressive. Besides, even though Miller is right that Victoria has a special genius for self-mutilation, I, along with everyone else here, am Victoria, and at some point self-mutilation just gets too ...painful. Clinically, we're ripe for a diagnosis of pathologically low self-esteem, as we self-medicate with dangerous cocktails made of bombast and indecision. At some point, though, you just want to shout, "oh, grow up!"

Which is exactly what Sam Williams suggests in his piece, "Should the market decide?" He's right, of course, even if he does use a bit of shock therapy (if I may continue with the psycho metaphor). I can only imagine that some of my acquaintances are mortified at the prospect of 25-storey-and-higher towers in downtown, but dear friends: if not downtown, where? In Langford or on Bear Mountain? Oh, wait... some of them are going there, begging the question, how come we keep underbuilding with low-rises here? And to those who argue that highrises are environmentally unfriendly, I'd ask you to become familiar with the work ofKenneth Yeang.

I do disagree with Williams on this point, though: aesthetically, the Corazon is a superior building, and not the stumpy, cheap-finish failure he accuses it of being. The Astoria, not without its flaws in terms of exterior finishing, has the advantage of existing on a street section that was nearly a blank slate in terms of older urban architecture. Together with the Belvedere, it has done a very good job of acting as a foil (much like a good ring setting shows off its gemstone) for theChurch of Our Lord, which incidentally does not now look dwarfed or insulted, but instead looks resplendent as it welcomes its new neighbours. Unlike that architectural disaster known as the Victoria Conference Centre (which hogs entire city blocks, squatting like an undefined mass covered in a thick layer of green mold, even as it dares to trick itself out in faux Edwardianisms), these new highrises don't steal the Church of Our Lord's thunder by drawing undue attention to a hopped up sense of "history." If anything, they could (should?) have been taller.

As could Corazon, granted. But give it credit where due: the building is a miniature masterpiece in terms of how it fits into its surroundings. Here's what I mean: Corazon expertly picks up its neighbours' architectural elements, playing with them to create a rhythm across its own facade, a harmony and counterpoint to the surrounding facades. This creates pleasing visual dynamics and interest. For example, Corazon uses yellow brick (which picks up on the Fairfield Hotel, located two buildings to the west); grey panelling and glass bloc (which picks up on and literally beautifies and ennobles the otherwise unattractive dark-grey lowrise next door); a rigorous geometry in its window patterning and use of railings and panels (which picks up on the grey building's utilitarianism as well as the more boring generically modernist building set back closer to Balmoral); and green painted sheathing (which picks up on the green window glass of the set back building). Note that this contrast of Corazon's painted green panels to the other building's green glazing enhances the "conversation" Corazon has with its neighbour. In addition, Corazon's windows and balconies, as seen from the street, suggest a place of both refuge and prospect. It is easy, viewing this building from the street, to imagine the protected but still expansive vantage points it affords: not an endless, static view of ocean or sky, but of observation of the city and its streets. That's urbanism, by the way, as opposed to the passive panorama of the unchanging "million dollar view." This, too, helps to knit the building into the city's fabric. Could or should it have been taller? Sure, but what's there is still very good. It's more eloquent than the nearby Terasen Building, which is "expensively" garbed, but fails to speak as wisely.

I would hope that Corazon's future neighbours on nearby blocks are at least half as canny ...and maybe twice as tall.

Sincerely,

Yule Heibel