Changing Skyline
A public housing design outshines upscale rivals
By Inga Saffron
Inquirer Architecture Critic
This was the year of the luxury condo, when Philadelphia developers discovered that name-brand architects, a modern look, and espresso-colored cabinets were good business. But luxe isn't always lucky. Judges for the American Institute of Architects looked past the preening high-rise peacocks and last month awarded Philadelphia's top design prize to a modest cluster of townhouses for low-income families in North Philadelphia.
Take that, Rittenhouse Square.
I wouldn't be surprised if some people walked past Interface Studio's design for 13 prefab houses when the renderings went on display last month in the Liberty Place rotunda during the Philadelphia AIA's annual competition. Who could focus on the little guys when the glamour towers were hogging the limelight?
But if they did stop to look at Interface's proposal, they would have seen sleek computer renderings for contemporary townhouses, designed pro bono for Asociació:n de Puertorriqueñ'os en Marcha, a nonprofit specializing in housing for low-income families.
Interface's design took the AIA's Silver Medal, the top award for unbuilt projects. It's not unusual for public housing to capture the occasional Good Citizenship prize, but it's rare for its architects to be honored for high design - especially when the competition includes $2 million condos.
Like the best of Philadelphia's new infill housing, the proposal offers a fresh take on the traditional rowhouse. Instead of rectangular boxes marching in single file, Interface designer Brian Phillips laid out the 13 homes on Sheridan Street, between Berks and Montgomery, as an interlocking puzzle of L-shaped twins.
The unconventional site plan is just a starting point, however. In a city where it is still considered innovative to dress up public housing with peaked gables and bay windows, Interface's design looks as if it were spawned in the hipster enclave of Northern Liberties. Windows blip asymmetrically across the screen of its facades like the random lights of a video game. There isn't a red brick in sight.
Instead, Phillips proposes to clad the houses in a high-tech, fiber-cement board that resembles a lightly polished gray slate. Those large panels would be accented with a golden brown, exterior-grade plywood and metal trim. What really gives the houses a contemporary kick, though, is their eco-friendly hardware, including protruding sunscreens on the windows and solar panels that double as angled awnings for the roof decks. The houses have been designed to secure the second-highest rating from the U.S. Green Building Council.
It's hard enough to make a $500,000 townhouse look this cool. And many architects would argue it's impossible with a house that will cost $210,000 to construct and will sell to qualified buyers for $150,000. But Rose V. Gray, who is overseeing the project for Asociaci—n de Puertorrique–os en Marcha, says the cost estimates have checked out. Construction could start as soon as this spring.
Still, some housing experts suggest that it will be an act of faith to pitch a contemporary design to low-income families. Ever since the despised modernist housing towers started coming down, city agencies have tried to offset the perceived stigma of public housing by producing low-rise buildings that ape the most mainstream of American housing styles, primarily the faux-historical look and layout of a typical suburban house.
Gray scoffs at doubters. Low-income buyers "read the magazines, too, you know, and watch the same TV programs" featuring new modernist designs, she said with a laugh.
And she noted that the Sheridan Street neighborhood, four blocks east of SEPTA's Temple University station, is becoming a refuge for low-paid workers who have been priced out of Center City. By incorporating energy-efficient green technologies, her group will be able to offer an affordable, three-bedroom house that will also be affordable to maintain.
To appreciate the cleverness of Interface's solution, you have to understand the problem. Just five years ago, aerial photographs of the neighborhood around Sheridan Street showed a countrified arrangement of freestanding rowhouse survivors. While Gray's group has succeeded in repopulating many blocks with subsidized housing, several awkward slivers of land were left over.
Interface's assignment, which came through the AIA's Community Design Collaborative, was to figure out how to build 13 homes on the skinny slice of Sheridan Street. Just one rowhouse wide, the block faces backyards on both sides. The first design decision was where to put the front doors, so the new houses would feel as if they belonged.
Phillips played around with layouts, moving the rectangular houses as if they were children's blocks, until he hit on the L-shaped twins. Each pair is sited so one rowhouse shows its long side to the street, while the companion offers its short side.
That arrangement solves two problems at once. By bringing some houses to the sidewalk and recessing others, Phillips has created an indentation that can be used for clustered parking. There's no need for driveways, curb cuts or blank-walled garages. Even better, the flow of neighborhood life will be maintained.
Phillips applied the same logical thinking to the windows. Their asymmetrical pattern may look random, but it's the product of extensive calculations. First, Phillips computed how many standard-size cement panels were needed to cover the exterior. Then, he factored in the factory windows, the optimum sun angles, and the amount of wall space required in each room for furniture. The information was tossed into a computer to produce a matrix for window placement.
He said he realized he was done designing the project when people began telling him, "I don't think you could do it any other way."
The Sheridan Street houses may deviate from the traditional rowhouse order, but the simple, rational designs will clearly be at home in the Philadelphia grid.
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