At first glance, the top of a proposed addition to Baltimore's Inner Harbor looks like a pair of canvas sails billowing in the breeze. On closer inspection, it's apparent that those sails are rising above one of the piers, not the water.
Did some misguided mariner make a wrong turn coming out of the HarborView marina? Was this errant schooner washed ashore in a freak squall?
Not exactly. This is the design for a $40 million office and retail center, sculpted to evoke a tall ship. What resembles sailcloth is actually the curving glass shell of a nine-story tower, rising from the middle of Pier 4. On the inside would be seven levels of offices above two levels of stores and restaurant space. No sails, just sales.
It's part of a bold attempt by local developer David Cordish to elevate the status of the office building by giving it a shape that's more dynamic and memorable than the peanut-butter-colored shoe boxes along Pratt Street. He thinks Baltimore architecture is too boring and that office builders in particular could take some lessons from the urban entertainment industry.
The result is the most provocative design for the Inner Harbor since Cordish's last nautical-themed proposal for the same location, the daffy Bubba Gump shrimp-boat restaurant that would have been parked in the inlet near the Power Plant. This is a man who clearly has boats on the brain.
His latest plan has met resistance from some members of the city's Design Advisory Panel, which has withheld its approval so far. They question the wisdom of putting a show-off building so close to cherished landmarks such as the National Aquarium and the Power Plant. They fear that too many geometrical shapes could turn the Inner Harbor into even more of an architectural circus than it is already.
And the review panel, whose opposition helped sink the Bubba Gump plan, is right to be protective of such a prominent waterfront setting. But while his sailboat on steroids could benefit from further refinement, Cordish just may be onto something this time. If nothing else, by trading one maritime motif for another, he has moved the discussion from "let's milk Hollywood for all it's worth" to "learning from Las Vegas."
Son of Power Plant
The Cordish Co. is the local firm that redeveloped the Pier 4 Power Plant as an entertainment and office complex. It was so successful -- it's now 100 percent leased and drawing more than three million visitors a year -- that chairman David Cordish concluded there was strong demand for even more office and retail space nearby. He subsequently began negotiating with the parent of the Chart House chain to buy out the lease of the restaurant just south of the Power Plant and construct a mixed-use building in its place: The Son of Power Plant.
After staging a limited competition, Cordish representatives picked a design by the firm of Pickard Chilton of New Haven, Conn. The principal in charge is Jon Pickard, a former associate of the noted architect Cesar Pelli. One of the last projects Pickard worked on with Pelli was the twin Petronas towers in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, the tallest buildings in the world.
Pickard proposed the sail forms to make the annex stand out while complying with city-imposed height limits: up to 135 feet for the bulk of the building with another 45 feet for rooftop mechanical equipment and other "architectural treatments."
The billowing effect would be made by wrapping a glass skin over a steel frame, tapered with a sail-like silhouette. The glass forms actually occupy only the southern end of the Chart House parcel, which is between the Power Plant and the aquarium's Marine Mammal Pavilion. They would be connected to a rectangular structure partially clad in brick -- a reference to the Power Plant.
It looks like a collection of buildings, but on the inside each level is essentially one space, so an office tenant could occupy the entire floor. The commercial levels would have at least two tenants -- a new Chart House and a major retailer that would be new to the Baltimore area -- possibly a branch of the FAO Schwartz toy emporium or L. L. Bean clothiers.
As presented to Baltimore's design panel, the Power Plant annex would contain about 160,000 square feet of leasable space. The area at the top would be used to conceal mechanical equipment and finish off the sail shape.
Pickard said he struggled to come up with a composition that is appropriate for its setting and will contribute to the vitality of the Inner Harbor. The tall glass element provides a visual marker that divides the Power Plant side of the pier from the aquarium side, without imitating either structure or turning the pier into a giant brick wall. It establishes a new architectural cadence on the pier: the curved "sails" seem to back away from the aquarium's forms and thus make less of an intrusion on that institution's turf.
"You've never seen a building like this, because there's never been one like it before," Pickard said. "This is a unique site. This building is endeavoring to respond to the unique qualities of the site."
A new language
In many ways this building's combination of use, location and shape represents a new approach, and that's what troubles some members of the review panel.
It used to be easy to make sense of the Inner Harbor from the architectural language of its buildings. The big, bland, shoe boxes on the north side of Pratt Street were offices or hotels -- places for work. The more interesting sculptural shapes on the water's edge were one-of-a-kind attractions -- places for fun.
But over the years, the lines began to blur. Offices took on different shapes and colors, such as the building with the "hairnet" at 100 E. Pratt Street or the stepped blue tower at 250 W. Pratt St. The water's edge, meanwhile, got some more mundane buildings, including the suburban-styled Inn at Pier 5 and the boxy laboratory side of the Columbus Center.
Cordish has found a way to blur the distinctions even more. His annex contains the offices and retail spaces that one might typically find in the monotonous buildings on the north side of Pratt Street, yet it's on the fun side of the harbor. And his architect has given it a distinctive shape, as if to indicate it's a public attraction, even though the upper levels are likely to be private offices.
This sort of mix is without precedent in the Inner Harbor. Design purists say that the reason Baltimore's one-of-a-kind attractions have more sculptural shapes is that they have one-of-a-kind spaces inside, such as the aquarium's rooftop rain forest and dolphin pool and the science center's IMAX theater.
To them, the Power Plant annex is a glorified office building that lacks the unconventional spaces that would justify an unconventional shape. They worry that its sail form will upstage the stars of the waterfront, such as the aquarium and the Constellation. They also question whether the city should be allowing so much office space on the south side of Pratt Street, the province of the leisure-time destinations.
But Cordish argues that today's office buildings shouldn't be created from the same molds that shaped them in the 1960s and 1970s. In order to attract top-flight companies, he said, office buildings need to take some lessons from the entertainment world and offer features that older buildings may not have, including memorable shapes and "destination retailers."
The Power Plant already has everything from a Barnes and Noble to a Gold's Gym. Cordish and associate Joe Weinberg promise that the sail building will have unconventional spaces that will justify its novel shape, such as a top floor skylounge or conference area that could be leased out for events, and roof terraces or balconies on every level. And if it's going to be more entertaining than the average office building, they say, why shouldn't it be part of the fun side of the harbor?
"That's what goes on down here in the Inner Harbor," Cordish said. "You have a hybrid. You blur the lines."
A matter of execution
It's an intriguing discussion, with compelling arguments on both sides. But in the end, it comes down to design and execution. And for all his persuasiveness, Cordish is not there just yet.
The idea of the nautical reference has promise, but the annex's current composition is problematic. The relationship between the sail shape and the building's more rectangular elements seems clunky and unresolved, as if they're not the same building at all. The connection with the Power Plant is awkward, too, because the new brick portion has little in common with the more refined brickwork on the historic building. Rather than trying to make the annex relate to the Power Plant, perhaps the architect needs to make more of a break from it, just as he's broken away from the geometry of the aquarium pyramids.
The shape of the curving forms may need to be restudied as well. One is hard pressed to decide whether the renderer needs to draw a brassiere on those curves or put some pants on them. This development doesn't need to become the butt of anatomy jokes.
There are other considerations as well. A nautical theme is a valid starting point, but is a sail too trite a reference? How about a pair of shark fins? Should they be as tall as the Power Plant's smokestacks, or more deferential? How can this building do more to impose a sense of order and hierarchy in an area that sorely needs it?
In many ways, a foreground building such as this is the trickiest sort of architecture to pull off. The Inner Harbor is full of show-off buildings that were billed as the next Eiffel Tower and turned out to be duds.
Baltimore always has room for another beautiful building. It doesn't need more cacophony. With a site as prominent as this, anything less than perfection will be a disaster.
Opponents question the wisdom of putting a show-off building so close to cherished landmarks such as the National Aquarium and the Power Plant.
Pub Date: 07/04/99