In 2004-5, I volunteered to sit on San Mateo County’s Planning and Building Task Force. I was invited to join the Task Force as a representative of AIA San Mateo County, of which I am a Board Member, currently serving as 2007 President. I accepted the assignment, because I have a keen interest in how oversight regulations and review processes affect my clients and the quality of the architecture that they can build. I hoped to have a tempering influence on the County’s sometimes-Kafkaesque review process.
The jury’s still out on that, but since then I’ve been following efforts to increase the level of design regulation in the City of San Mateo, the County’s Emerald Hills jurisdiction, and the Town of Hillsborough (not a comprehensive list). Beginning in Spring ’06, it seemed an overwhelming task to evaluate and weigh-in on each proposal that came to my attention. The positive side to this rising tide of bureaucratic activity is that it forced me to reevaluate my thinking regarding public regulation of design. After carrying a knee-jerk negative attitude around with me for years, I took the time to examine the motivations of those who advocate design regulation, their growing impact on our communities, and what it all means to the architectural profession.
The trend is inescapable: as time goes by, architects face ever-increasing levels of design regulation. As an architect who focuses a considerable portion of my practice on trying to create designs that are meaningful on many different levels, I find the language of some of the recent proposals deeply disturbing. They have an increasing tendency to eviscerate the practice of architecture, limiting discussion of the merits of a design to only the most simplistic level. Contrast an excerpt from the original enabling language adopted by San Mateo County in 1976 with the language of a 2006 proposal for revised design guidelines in Emerald Hills. The excerpt from 1976 describes the County’s intent and goals in seeking to regulate the design of projects on private property:
“Regulation of design should not be so rigidly enforced that individual initiative is precluded in the design of any particular building or substantial additional expense incurred; rather, the regulation exercised should only be the minimum necessary to achieve the overall objectives . . . . Appropriate design is based upon the suitability of a building for its purposes, upon the appropriate use of sound materials and upon the principles of harmony and proportion in the elements of the building . . . .”
Compare the language above with the following excerpts from 2006:
“…a home . . . may appear massive or bulky, if the building shape and/or façade is too simple. Simple forms often appear more massive and larger, while houses with more variety in their forms appear less massive and often more interesting.”
“…massive or boxy styles (such as Mediterranean stucco) are discouraged . . . avoid revivalist styles.”
“When planning a new home or second story addition, begin with a primary roof form. Consider additions to the primary roof such as secondary roof forms and dormers that may serve to reduce the home’s apparent mass and scale, provide visual interest and have an appropriate number of roof forms. Additional roof forms shall be architecturally compatible with the primary roof form’s slope and material.”
The language reads more like a recitation of lay opinion and personal stylistic preference than a call for creativity and design quality. The last one is a special treat, apparently excerpted from a lecture on building morphology given by the design professor from Hell.
As this type of language seduces one community after another, I’ve become convinced that it is having a destructive influence on design quality rather than the hoped-for improvement. Framed too narrowly, these guidelines cross the line that should exist between a governing agency’s rights to define goals and provide guidance and incentives, and property owners’ rights to set their own agendas for architectural expression.
My unease with guidelines that attempt to design the structures they regulate stems from the way in which they erode the ability of a designer to propose creative solutions. In the end, they reward superficiality in the design of structures, penalizing those who pursue new or challenging approaches. I consider design guidelines to be a sort of “Cliff’s Notes” for design—an abridged version, a quick summary of the broad and complex topic of architectural design. While they can be beneficial in some ways, in a bureaucratic setting it’s just too easy to give them more weight than is justified:
The harried designer says, “It doesn’t really matter how it looks, it follows all of the guidelines!”
The conscientious Planning Department staffer says, “Boy, this sure looks great, but it doesn’t follow the design guidelines unless you go back and slap a couple more dormers on it.”
These examples may sound far-fetched to some, but in the trenches of Bay Area design regulation I’ve seen it all.
Design guidelines that are too specific limit the range of possible solutions to those that can be imagined by the individuals crafting the language. It is a presumptive design approach, in which those who write the guidelines presume to make decisions that in most cases are better left to someone familiar with the specific site conditions, owner needs, and neighbor concerns. No matter how well composed, a written standard can only be reasonably applied to a limited range of conditions. The narrower and more rigid the standard, the fewer conditions to which it will reasonably apply.
In the end, an intelligent, independent design review process may be the key element that makes design guidelines effective in regulating design without killing it. Despite the pitfalls, an independent design review body can provide the perspective and skills necessary to interpret design guidelines in the context of the actual facts of a case. Design review bodies can evaluate the applicability of guidelines to a particular situation and render decisions that balance the needs of all interests at play in the realization of a particular project.
A well-crafted, balanced design guideline and design review process won’t dilute or eliminate the ability of competent architects to present creative solutions to the problems they face. When the guidelines and/or review process are orphaned from one another, or poorly structured and overly restrictive, designers are left an unpleasant choice. They can take refuge in the safety of known, tried-and-true solutions, or they can face a review process of indeterminate length and uncertain outcome irrespective of the merit of the design.
Based on the above reasoning, I propose the following criteria for evaluating design regulations. For lack of a better name, I refer to them as Design Guidelines Guidelines:
- Legislation and/or administrative rules regulating design must establish an independent design review body as a companion to the adoption of design guidelines, and vice-versa.
- Design guidelines should clearly state the goals of the community and encourage designers to work creatively to achieve these goals, rather than presumptively telling them how to design or defining what designs are acceptable. They should not be compendia of the opinions and subjective personal taste of neighborhood interest groups. They should provide for evolving sensibilities, changing tastes, and future technologies. And, where sample designs and other specifics are included in a design guidelines document, it should be clearly established that such examples and illustrations are suggestions not intended to be definitive or mandatory.
- The design review body should be granted the administrative tools they need to stand up for quality design, to reject poor design, and to interpret and adapt guidelines to each individual situation. Broad representation on design review bodies is beneficial, but a significant proportion of the body should have some level of expertise in a relevant design field. Interpretation of design guideline applicability and/or compliance should not reside entirely in the hands of laypersons or Planning Department staffers.
Author Ellis A. Schoichet, AIA, is the founder and Principal Architect of EASA Architecture in San Mateo, established in 1992. From 1996 to 1998, Ellis also acted as Director of Green Building Services for GTEK, a San Francisco based consulting firm specializing in improving the environmental and financial performance of buildings. He is currently serving as the President of the AIA San Mateo County Chapter.
Originally published 2nd quarter 2007 in arcCA 07.2, “Design Review.”
