Modern Day Palimpsest

A palimpsest (/ˈpælɪmpsɛst/) is a manuscript page, either from a scroll or a book, from which the text has been either scraped or washed off so that the page can be reused, for another document. - Wikipedia

Change is one of few constants in our world. No matter how much we may wish that things will always stay the way they are, just how we like them, they will inevitably change. Imagine your bedroom, the instant after you've cleaned it. In that one moment, things are precisely how they ought to be, and ideally they would always stay that way. But we know they won't; the mound of clothes in the side of the room will inevitably reappear, and your things will slowly, but surely, find their way into odd nooks and crannies about the room. Change is. Change was. Change will ever be.

Long ago, before things upon which one would write were plentiful, the monks (who were predominantly the ones making and keeping books, prior to the printing press) had a problem. Sometimes, as they wrote, they would run out of parchment, with no opportunities to get or make more. And so, in order that they could keep writing, they would take parchments from older works (perhaps less useful ones), scrape off what had been written before, and write anew for what they were then working on. The parchment's use changed; it had been devoted to one set of ideas, and it was rededicated to a new set.

In fact, this notion of overwriting is not terribly uncommon today. Computer memory works similarly; when you delete a file, it typically does not immediately leave your disk. Rather, only when the computer needs the space for a new file will it do anything to the old one. And, we can see it in more physical instances as well. Take, for example, campustown.

Panda Express, previously Follett's Bookstore, marks the main entrance to Campustown and Green Street from the University

Originally full of single-family homes, the area has developed rapidly into a commercial and student-residential zone, with several restaurants, bars, shops and apartment complexes all catering primarily to students. Major changes have also affected the traffic flow through the area to be more pedestrian-friendly (intoxication level notwithstanding) and the design of the facades of the storefronts.

Green Street's main strip, the original storefronts of Campustown

Most of the growth is centered around Green Street, colloquially known as the home to the campus bars (though many lie on side streets next to Green, and others lie merely nearby, like on Daniel Street). New construction always seems to be ongoing on Green Street, with new high rises popping up regularly.

Campustown is quickly growing, looking specifically at the very new high rises in the background. Notice that the closest tower (on the right) lies back from Green Street aways, so as not to give as imposing an impression from street level.

But, with such rapid growth and such limited land resources, something had to give. The change was too rapid. The area became palimpsestic.

Different locations handled the change in different ways. Cly's built a large storefront to hide the fact that they were housed in a particularly large house (which you would never really have a reason to notice, but can be plainly seen even from the Green and Sixth intersection). In other locations, the houses were just ignored; the tower built on top of Gameday Spirit blocks in a house that has no immediately obvious access to any streets. In any case, the buildings were writing over themselves.

Behind this building lies a single-family home, with no easy access to it. Prior to the building of the tower above Gameday Spirit (on the left), this house was visible from Green Street. Now, you would have no way of knowing it was there, but for the space barely visible between the towers on all sides.

In other locations, the changes happened in different time frames and different speeds of growth. All the way down past Fourth Street, two especially tall apartment complexes have been built. However, on the corner of Green and Fifth lies two suburban-model storefronts, one for Pizza Hut (whose tiny parking lot behind the building looks completely laughable) and one for Walgreens (Walgreens doesn't look quite as out of place, but the lack of eye-level windows does spark a noticeable difference). The Fifth Street developments took place before those at Fourth Street, at a time when merely building a store was a significant development in and of itself. Now, developers have their sights set on higher goals.

In the background, we can see more high rises, while in the foreground we can see an ill-fitting suburban-model Pizza Hut

But, we can still see the roots of what this area was if we only walk down the alleys. Even down this way at the edges of the development, we still find houses hidden away behind new buildings. In a sense, this new construction always comes with the cost of tearing down what was there before it; we just happen to be so lucky as to see some of the predecessors today in this area.

This house lies roughly 20 yards off of Green Street down an alley. It is surrounded on all sides by more contemporary construction.

The house pictured above and Green Street.

The rapid development of Campustown has its limits, though, as all things do. Most of the current changes are happening on Green Street between Third and Wright, and there are patches with a lot of catching up to do. More development may also branch off of Green Street before it pushes out even further towards Champaign proper. Campustown is growing up in a big way, but it's not sprawling out.

The Red Lion stands at the edge of the current development. Likely, it will remain safe for a while as things between Fourth Street and Sixth Street catch up to each other, but its fate may not be so certain after that.

Downtown! Things'll be great when you're downtown!

Since long, long ago at "West Urbana's" conception, Champaign and Urbana have always stood in deep rivalry. Though Urbana was largely the original hub of the area, with the routing of the railroad and subsequent creation of the city of Champaign, much of Urbana's draw and prestige have siphoned off into Champaign, and though it seems we won't have much reason to tour Urbana's downtown area this semester, their downtowns show it very strongly.

But, Champaign's story begins with the railroad. When citizens of Urbana were opposed to the railroad traveling through their town, speculators jumped on the opportunity to keep the railroad in the area while simultaneously developing new opportunities for their own ends, just west of town. Over time and heartache, this new development would eventually become what we now know as Champaign, but it all starts with the trains.

The current train station sits just at the edge of downtown proper.

At the eastern edge of what has become Champaign's downtown, both the second and third train stations sit, framing University Avenue on its way towards Urbana's downtown region. The second train station has become more of a shopping area (there's a tea shop, among other things) today, in keeping with the theme of Champaign's ongoing development, while the current train station doubles as the bus depot for the CUMTD, keeping its purpose on transporting the people of the area where they need to go.

The second train station now houses some shops and things.

Similarly, the traction station, which used to be where omnibuses connecting Champaign to the other cities of the area (such as Danville) would come, houses a few shops. Notice that, just like the two train stations frame University Avenue, the traction station also sits directly upon it. As we put more and more important buildings on this one street, we begin to see the underlying importance of it.

Similar story for the old traction station, where streetcar-like trains previously connected Champaign to other area cities.

No building can show us this importance quite like the Champaign City Building can. Why would the fledgling city of Champaign choose to put its headquarters on this particular street? Most of the business of downtown (as it stands right now) occurs north of University, and so a more centralized location like, well, on Main Street, might seem more appropriate! However, what we are seeing is the great importance of University Avenue, particularly in Champaign-Urbana's origins. It in fact sits along the continental grid that originally divvied up the "West" into parcels of land for people to buy from the government to farm/develop. In a way, the City Building being on University is symbolic of a connection between Champaign and the larger superstructure of our nation. Whether Urbana has anything quite on this scale is questionable.

The Champaign City Building sits along University Avenue, (theoretically) connecting it all the way back to D.C. 

But, I talked briefly earlier about the way Champaign's and Urbana's downtowns embody the way Champaign wrested influence and prestige away from Urbana, at least as they stand today. Why is that? In the era of suburbanization, both downtowns were in serious decline. People had cars, and were willing to live in more residentially oriented spaces (read, suburbs) in exchange for being further away from what was going on. And, what was going on wasn't downtown, at least anymore. Market Place Mall opened fairly late for all this, in 1975, but still shows some of why the two downtowns were still faltering even then. People had options that weren't so difficult to navigate by car on the outskirts of town.

So, what turned it around for Champaign that didn't in Urbana? Like the history of the two cities prior, enterprising businesspeople (along with thoughtful adjustments of city policy). What we see today in Champaign's downtown is a thriving area of boutiques, restaurants, bakeries, bars, apartments, and now even a hotel! And, what guaranteed the city the ongoing success of the area was the steady stream of people provided by apartments and hotels. However, to get to the point where people wanted to live there in the first place, the city decided to issue more liquor licenses for use in a set of bars in the downtown area (which were required to, at very least, be nominally restaurant-like as well, so as not to be too great dens of debauchery).

Champaign's downtown has thrived recently, in no small part thanks to bars like The Blind Pig.

With the success brought in by the bars, other, older pieces of the area were able to thrive as well. The historic Virginia Theatre sits near the western edge of downtown. It plays host to local events such as theatrical productions and battle of the bands competitions, as well as to larger events like Ebertfest (a film festival originally created by Urbana native Roger Ebert, who is now commemorated by a bronze statue just in front of the theater). From 1999 through 2011, the building was in various ways remodeled, bringing the 1921 original building up to code as well as more aesthetic changes to the building's lobby and storefront areas.

The remodeled Virginia Theatre houses local events like plays, battle of the bands competitions, and larger events like Ebertfest, whose namesake was born in Urbana.

Downtown ends on its west side in the aptly named West Side Park. Though probably originally set aside in hopes of housing the courthouse and public buildings, the park is now devoted to being a open area for gathering people together. As such, it hosts the Taste of Champaign (annually plagued by mystically bad luck, almost always being held on a weekend with significant rains) as well as other community events.

In the very early days of Champaign-Urbana, there was speculation that the entire city of Urbana might move west, taking with it the courthouse and other official buildings that, it is thought, were expected to go in what is now West Side Park.

The original library of Champaign sits on West Side Park.

Particularly interesting is the park's relation to several churches placed strategically on the edge of downtown. The park's great power, especially in the days of blue laws, was in being able to bring together people of separate denominations into one grand space as sermons let out. As such, there are several churches ringing the park, and enough that one of the streets flanking the park is now named Church Street.

Coming back through downtown, now more northernly set, we see what used to be Robeson's Department Store. Though the store has now become office space and more shops/restaurants, it was originally a sizable department store for both Champaign and Urbana. There are still Robesons about the cities, and the building still bears their name today.

Champaign has, in large part, supplanted Urbana in notoriety. Though the University of Illinois is still housed in "Urbana-Champaign," in common parlance Urbana has not come first for quite some time. Both Memorial Stadium and Assembly Hall State Farm Center are in Champaign, which is what most people not directly involved with the University care about. And Champaign now is home to a greater number of people than Urbana. Its unfortunate we won't get to see much of Urbana's downtown officially, because while it has great features and grand architecture itself, it would be very illustrative of the contemporary difference between the two cities simply in noticing who and how many walk the streets of the two downtowns on any given day.

Home of Healing

I have been in and out of hospitals for a long time.

Now, now, I'm not some sickly child always on the precipice of great illness. Fortunately, the only time I was so very sick was when I was very young. But, both of my parents are medical. My father is a surgeon and my mother a nurse; it was inevitable that I spend time at the hospital, considering that's where my family was for most of their time.

In my time flitting in and out of hospitals, I've seen three distinct groups of people who occupy them. Perhaps there are more, but the people I notice are these: the staff (the doctors, nurses, maintenance workers, and everybody else who are employed to in some way help people heal), the patients (the people who most need the physical healing the building represents), and the visitors (the people who most need the emotional healing the building should provide). At various times I've been a member of each of these groups. But, it's important to keep these three related but ultimately different sets of people in mind, as you design a place to help people come to health.

Quick fact sheet for Shive-Hattery:

• They work in a variety of different fields, mostly concerning non-residential design. For example, one of the men I talked with (I believe his name was Mark Anderson, though now I can't remember for sure) worked almost entirely in health care, designing hospitals and senior care/living and the like. Beyond that, they also do business in buildings for commercial, educational, governmental, and industrial purposes, among other related things.
• Not called "principals" -- Instead, they're just "shareholders." The idea is to promote a more horizontal organizational structure instead of a stricter hierarchical one.
• Midwest-based. Which, since they don't specify Chicago outright, doesn't just mean Chicago. Rather, there are nine offices across four states (Bloomington, Moline, Downers Grove, and Chicago in Illinois, Cedar Rapids, Iowa City, and West Des Moines in Iowa, Valparaiso in Indiana, and a very small office in Chesterfield, Missouri). The primary of these is in Cedar Rapids, IA.

As you might guess, coming from my background as I did, I was most interested to hear about their work in healthcare. The truth is, I wouldn't expect juggling the needs of three different groups of people to be very easy. You have to keep the doctors and staff happy, because the better the staff can work the better patient outcomes are. You have to keep the patients in good condition, because they are the ones who most need whatever help is available. And, though you may not think about it, you have to keep the visitors happy too, because they're going through very nearly as much as the patients are psychologically.

Let me tell a story, or rather, a collection of related stories, which encompass both my relation to hospitals and these needs in a hospital. When I was very young, not quite age 2, I had cancer. If it means anything to you, it was a neuroblastoma on my left adrenal gland, but the important thing was my family had to go down to St. Louis Children's Hospital to seek treatment. Long story short, things are okay now, but for a while things were hairy and my parents were a wreck emotionally. They like to tell the story of my initial surgery, to cut out the tumor. They sat with me before it began, trying to comfort me (but really trying to comfort each other -- what would a 18 month old baby know about what was going on?). Once the surgery began, though, they were in a fog. They didn't know what to do with themselves, so they wandered down to the cafeteria, and before they knew it the surgery was over and they were being called back up to see me. What's important here is that, while they were waiting, they needed help. They needed something to get their minds off of what was going on, and going to the cafeteria, even just that act of removing themselves from the designated waiting area, gave some comfort. Today, some hospitals have buzzer systems similar to those found waiting in lines at restaurants, so that visitors can wander around without having to sit and wait and think and think about what is happening but still be notified when the surgery is over.

The second story follows the first; even after removing the tumor, more needed to be done to make sure nothing else came back. So, I went under chemotherapy, which meant a lot of large needles had to go into a small child who really did not like the situation. And, it came to be that when the nurse who would begin the process wanted to ask if we were ready, he would stand in the doorway. Every time that happened, I would begin to cry until he either came in and did it or just left; in addition to designing a space for me to be, the way the nurse interacted with us (and specifically myself) had to be designed (insofar as my mom chastised him to either come in or not because she was upset that he was making me cry).

The third thing is pretty different; not even a story really, just some things I remember. My parents both work at Carle here in town, and there's a room in the main hospital (on University) designated for doctors to take downtime in, if they need to. There's a couple of couches, a fridge and some food (whenever I came, mid-morning when my dad did his rounds, typically bagels or breakfast items of some sort), and a giant TV, and on this TV, when not commandeered by the ten-year-old son of a surgeon waiting for his dad to finish his rounds, was typically on something like the Food Network, because when a doctor has time away from their patients, the last thing they want to do is concern themselves with anything more complicated than the zen of cooking. The hospital provides a way for them to destress, so that they can better serve their patients.

A lot of this has little or nothing to do with Shive-Hattery, I'll admit. If you want more info about them, they gave me a nifty little puzzle trinket thing. It's fascinating. But, what interests me is what interested the man I talked to from Shive-Hattery. How do you design a space that meets the needs of all three of these different groups? Many potential answers bear his mark; there are more, and perhaps better. However, it is an interesting problem nonetheless.

The Ups and Downs of Doing the Right Thing

(this one's not as late but I'm still apologizing anyways - Editor)

By and large, people want to do the right thing. Well, sorry, that's not quite right. They want to do the right thing, and for the right thing to be easy to do. That covers most cases anyways. The truth is, many times, the right thing isn't so easy to do. The right way to, for example, write code, takes a hell of a lot more effort than just pushing out something that works. It's just that the consequences are so large, frequently, that people put in that extra step to do something for a little more effort.

I'm not here to tell you all the wonders of the BIF. I'm not here to praise it's magnificent glory. It's better than the new ECE building, for sure, but it's far from perfect. Not necessarily because of my own background, I largely prefer Siebel, but that's another matter.

Regardless, the BIF was designed with a mission in mind. That, of course, is the secret to doing things the right way; planning it out first. Now, I can't get into the head of the architect and tell you precisely what they were trying to do, but walking around, you get the sense that the BIF was built to be LEED certified. Not exactly to be sustainable; that was more of a pleasant side effect where their designs worked out. Rather, the University wanted something to show off beyond just having a snazzy building.

To that end, they designed things in clever ways, in many instances. In addition to having a huge, captivating room for students to work, hang out, and drink coffee in, they gave the atrium a utility for the building's designated goal. It was designed to soak up as much heat as possible in the winter to reduce heating costs while letting heat go in summer, so as not to roast the inhabitants.

The atrium of BIF. The floor acts as a heat sink in winter, catching as much sunlight as possible.

Despite these noble, original goals, there are hiccoughs along the way. After the designs are laid out on paper, the way people actually use the building decide whether the "sustainability" truly checks out.

More of the atrium. Is there not enough light, even with the clouds, to justify turning off the atrium lights?

That's not to say that the building is poorly designed, or even that it fails its supposed goal of sustainability. The floor heat sink thing works, more or less. And take a look at the roof above the atrium. There's no way any person can mess with the utility built into it. The roof is completely static, even as it shoots out beyond the building some great distance. No person can change that fact, short of destroying the building; whether the distance out is correct for shading the atrium in the summer and letting the sun shine in in the winter is an entirely different matter (not saying it doesn't, just that I don't know whether or not it does).

The giant "potato chip" roof above the atrium blocks out the higher summer sun while letting the lower winter sun in.

And, on the matter of the roof, the rest of the roof of the building should be appreciated as well. Supposedly, LEED didn't even give the building any credit here, for building a system intended to hold water in place here rather than let it flow away. It doesn't hurt that, although the prairie grass of the main courtyard outside the atrium has been cut down, these roofs still pay homage to the building's local heritage. Not that, in the conditions we visited, you would really notice that.

The roof garden frames the atrium space in a large U. In winter it isn't terrible impressive.

But here again we see problems. Continuing on the roof around the building to the auditorium, we see a bank of solar panels. Unfortunately, Illinois isn't a very ideal place for trying to generate electricity from the sun. This is even less true in the winter, when snow might cover the panels. Here, though it seems the University is trying to do things that will help the sustainability of the building (or, at the very least, get itself some LEED points), it ultimately doesn't do very well.

The solar panels above Deloitte Auditorium cannot power the entire room at full capacity,
let alone with snow covering the panels.

And that brings us to the silliest part of the building. It was a nice thought, to promote bike usage (and therefore less dependence on fuel-burning cars), to install bike racks. Not that they help many people behind a chain link fence. Even nicer to include these bike change rooms, to help people out who ride their bikes in but don't want to be sweaty all day. Not that people would think much of a door that requires a swipe in to be able to use unless they were lucky enough to be able to get in.

This room is made available (theoretically) to people who ride their bikes in to work,
so that they may shower and change clothes.

So, here's the naked truth. Did the University do the right thing in BIF? I think, for the most part, they did. And, even if the true goal of mandating that every new building earn some sort of LEED accreditation is for advertising purposes (after all, you have to pay LEED for the right to be tested at all), it doesn't hurt that the by-product is buildings that might have smaller (though not zero, yet) impacts on the environment. But, though it may be so very, very hard, there's always ways to do better. So, let's hope the University can truly impress us with the next building it puts up.

(Let's just ignore the ECE Building. Maybe it is more sustainable, but... eugh.)

Space, Space, Gotta Go to Space

(sorry for the incredible delay on this post - Editor)

In a college dorm room, space is an extremely precious commodity. Your bed, your desk, your clothes all take up a huge amount around which you have to find a way to live. On top of that, your pressed in with somebody else taking up the same charge; now you have to live around their bed and their desk and their clothes too. You skrimp and you save space any way you can. Foot rests that double as boxes for stuff. Hiding things deep under your bed and behind the desk. Just not bringing things. What I'm saying is I wish I had more space.

That is, I wish I lived in the Erlanger House. The Erlanger House uses its space incredibly. Now, admittedly, the kitchen is still fairly cramped, and the bathroom, as we all know, has its own phrase attached to it (courtesy Cody), but the way it uses the space available is phenomenal. The bathroom is small and the kitchen cramped, sure, but that is all in sacrifice to the magnificent central area of the house.

The sitting area, viewed from a standing position.

At first glance, the main sitting area seems all wrong. The fireplace is at an awkward height, and the chimney even worse. There's this concrete with a bunch of pebbles sticking out. The bench seats rise only to your ankles or so from outside of it. But, step down into it, and you can see the magic.

The sitting area, viewed from a more natural position.

It is, instead, a cozy sitting area, dug slightly into the ground compared to the rest of the house. The fireplace is at a nice height, and the chimney is above you where it should be. The pebbles are still exactly what they are, but sitting down, they begin to feel more like massage rollers than something stuck in your shoe. There's a wonderful view from below the main open area, where Ms. Erlanger might dance (think like Minnesota's home basketball court) or perform. Ample light comes in from the courtyard and the backyard.

Reverse view of the sitting area, with the courtyard behind.

The open area itself, though, is the true majesty of the building. Standing in it, you get the magnificent sense of room. The tight quarters of the bathroom are long forgotten while standing in the middle of the open area. Standing there, though you may not have known Ms. Erlanger to be a dancer, you can certainly feel the sense of a stage upon which something will happen. It's very important to that sense that the area is clear but for the piano in the corner and the tables to the side; putting out chairs and tables and trying to just sit in the space would feel dramatically wrong, like the openness was oppressive. Only once the area is clear can the space be truly appreciated, particularly for the sacrifices the building had to undergo elsewhere.

View of the open area from the bedroom space, with backyard beyond.

Going up the stairs, which themselves were my actual favorite aspect of the house, you come to where Ms. Erlanger and visiting residents of the house sleep. It's hard to exactly call it a bedroom; it isn't much of a room at all, at least in the sense that a room is enclosed off. You wouldn't exactly be able to keep secrets from your buddy crashing on the couch below in this house. But, the bedroom taps into the space the house works so hard to create. Standing up there, you get just a taste of what it would be like to wake up, get out of bed, and just take in the senses from the courtyard.

The bedroom space, with front courtyard behind.

The courtyard is on the north side of the house, so light doesn't really come in that way. Instead, a curtain blocks off the light from the south-facing backyard, in addition to the way the floor plan itself keeps the bedroom floating on the other side of the building. The final impression comes together to form a light and airy room that still feels appropriate, even for the cozier, darker night in which the bedroom sees its most important use.

To put it mildly, I loved this house. It would be a huge step up from the tiny, stuffy dorm room I'm trapped in right now. Just to have all that space, that incredible open area... And only a short walk* from campus! The listing writes itself.

*ha