On "Infill"

The new home at 65 Victoria Street is gonna be a biggie:

According to this article, the finished building will have six bedrooms, seven baths, parking for six vehicles, and a walk-out basement. Neighbours say it will be 15 ft higher than the homes on either side. Its balcony will tower over the neighbouring balconies, lowering their privacy. 

London's Committee of Adjustment* apparently approved a request to increase the maximum floor area of a building on this lot from 4,000 to 7,400 sq ft., allowing this monster home to be built. The neighbours - NIMBYs or concerned residents, depending how you view them - complained about the increased size at the committee hearing, but were disregarded. Makes you wonder why there are rules in place at all, if an exception can be made for any landowner who asks for one. 

There are lots of questions here I can't answer. Is this really intended to be a single family home? Six bedrooms, each with their own bath, suggests it may be a student residence or Airbnb. Will it be crowded and noisy? I suppose the neighbours will find out. Eventually. 

Old North west of Richmond is already a hodgepodge of buildings from different time periods. Some look early twentieth century but most are mid-century ranch homes or late twentieth-century two-storeys. From an aesthetic point of view, I'm less concerned about a modern behemoth at 65 Victoria than I am in a neighbourhood more uniformly historic. That opinion, of course, shows my personal bias but I find the following contrasts more disturbing: 

  

A central tenet of architectural design used to be respect for context, for the suitability of a new building with its existing surroundings. In other words, a new building should "fit in," not "stand out." Even in the Victorian era, while some owners wanted their homes to catch the eye, practical considerations like building cost, material and height still gave most streets overall consistency of form and character. 

Some newer buildings of the twentieth century looked a little different but they were often isolated examples on a street of nineteenth-century buildings. They added variety and interest to the street while still providing a comfortable sense of continuity. I'm not sure of the date of the house at right in the photo below but it does fit into this row of older homes, not being too tall or too different: 

I'm also annoyed with the use of the term "infill." According to Wikipedia, "infill," in the urban planning sense, is "the rededication of land in an urban environment, usually open-space, to new construction" (the italics are mine). The City of London states here in 3.2.3.1 that "development is only considered infill when it occurs on vacant or underutilized sites within an established residential neighbourhood." 

So, infill means filling empty lots with new development appropriate for the neighbourhood, increasing density within the city limits, and reducing the suburban sprawl eating up our farmland. But the term is often used to mean the demolition of an existing building and its replacement with something huge, often single family, that doesn't solve the city's housing problems. Like at 65 Victoria, where there was an earlier home that was purchased by the current owners in 2015, rented out for a few years, and demolished to make room for the monster. 

In another example, also on Victoria Street, a small home like the one on the left was replaced with the oversize building on the right. The latter is completely out of scale with its surroundings: 

Below, another smaller home was torn down to be replaced by a large, overpowering structure:

So I agree that the character of a neighbourhood, particularly an older one, is valuable, that new construction should correspond to and complement buildings on adjacent properties. New buildings should add to the history of an older neighbourhood, not take it away. 

But the City of London wants development at all costs, regardless of what it looks like or where it is. Who cares if the neighbours can stomach it? Beware Londoners, you'll have to get used to the strangest objects popping up around you. Sorry, Old North.

*The Committee of Adjustment consists of five individuals appointed by City Council to deal with minor variances. This house is a big change for a "minor" variance, isn't it? Rumour has it the committee is pro development and doesn't take complaints by neighbours very seriously. 

The Forest City - Or Is It?

The City of London says it needs to remove big trees in Old North and some folks in the neighbourhood aren't happy about it. 

Much needed repairs to sewers and water lines have led to a need to cut down trees, mainly around Regent Street and Fraser Avenue. Originally the city meant to remove 41 trees. Then the number was reduced to 38. The trees in question have been marked with white rings. 

Old North neighbours have fought City Hall, protesting the tree removal, and signs have appeared on the marked trees. These folks aren't just treehuggers. While I don't live at Regent and Fraser, I do live in Old North and I understand that part of the charm of our neighbourhood is the mature trees. The removal of a large number could drastically change the atmosphere of the whole area. 

Of course, the City of London isn't just being mean to trees, regardless of what some Old North kiddies might think. This interview with a city staffer explains the need for infrastructure renewal and the risks involved in not removing the trees. Note: She states that London removed 579 trees in 2022 but planted 8,874, over half of which were on city streets, not parks. The situation is obviously complex. The city does plant saplings as well as pruning and chopping mature trees.  

All this makes me think about the continued use of the nickname "Forest City." Not only is it used in the above linked article, but by many London businesses, and - ahem - in the name of my own blog, because I can't resist using it either. Heck, even the city logo features a tree. Could there be some irony here? Should the Forest City really be cutting down trees? 

The earliest known use of the term was on January 24, 1856, when the London Free Press and Daily Western Advertiser referred to London as "This City of the Forest." The first organization to use the name was Forest City Lodge, No. 38, IOOF, founded in 1857.* Since then, the name has appeared everywhere - on base ball clubs, colleges, churches, festivals, a Thames River steamboat, even a cannabis shop. But why? Is it really because of our lovely forest canopy?

Most people assume the term is meant as a compliment - see here and here. Although here it says the British government coined the term to make fun of John Graves Simcoe. Personally, I think historian Orlo Miller was correct when he stated there is a "widespread misunderstanding of the origin of the city's nickname, the Forest City. It was so called not because of the tree-lined streets, but because for many years it inhabited a cleared space in the encompassing forest."** Simcoe may have wanted his "New London on the Thames" to be the provincial capital but settlers in surrounding areas were amused by the fact that there was nothing here but trees. Our nickname was a pioneer joke. 

That being the case, maybe Londoners should get over their Forest City obsession. Maybe too many residents can't see the forest for the trees? 

I'd like to see a compromise between updating infrastructure and saving Old North's ambiance. After all, we do need toilets as well as trees. An April 13 City Hall Open House suggested such an arrangement might be possible. A pilot project could potentially spare an additional 16 trees, leaving only 22 to be chopped. Let's hope London and its tree-loving residents can find some middle ground - with trees on it, of course. 

A worse change in the look of "Old" North is when earlier homes are demolished to make way for inappropriate infill. As an example, a house similar in size to the building at left was recently razed and replaced with the one on the right. There's more than one way to destroy a neighbourhood's atmosphere. 

* Dan Brock, Fragments From The Forks. London & Middlesex Historical Society, 2011 pp. 49, 52. 

** Orlo Miller, London 200: An Illustrated History. London Chamber of Commerce, 1992, p. 118. 

My 10 Least Favourite London, Ontario Buildings

Ever since I listed my favourite London buildings here, I've been trying to decide what I'd put on a list of my least favourite. I've been thinking about it for years now, not because I can't find buildings I don't like, but because London has provided me with so many it's hard to choose. Often it's not a particular building I object to, so much as a style or trend which can be found in many cities in Ontario. 

Nevertheless, I have narrowed it down to the following:

1. Centennial Hall

Built in 1967 as London's premier concert hall and event space,  Centennial Hall is one of those multipurpose buildings that doesn't serve any purpose very well. Who enjoys sitting in the balcony at a concert, staring at the opposite side instead of the stage? Or sitting on the main floor at the rear, trying to see the show over the hundred heads in front of you? I've heard folks say it reminds them of their high school auditorium. Well, my high school auditorium was much better; it had a sloping floor and better acoustics. People often skip shows they'd like to see just because they're held here. They prefer to go to ...

2. Budweiser Gardens, formerly the JLC, formerly the Talbot Block

London tore down a Victorian block, built an arena and hung a replica of the original structure on the outside to please heritage preservationists. It doesn't. The effect is Disney-esque, only not as good. The opaque windows are your first clue it's a  façade. And if you remember the real Talbot Block, the imitation is laughable. Sure, it's a great sports and concert venue that London badly needed. But the city didn't need to insult our intelligence with the  pseudo-historic veneer. 

3. The "Towers of Spite"

Developer Arnon Kaplansky demolished bungalows on this site near Western University to replace them with student housing. Neither City Hall nor the neighbourhood association liked what he intended to build. So he had no choice but to build three towers with no visual appeal whatsoever. Right? I mean, what else could the poor guy do? 

4. Sir Adam Beck Manor Condominiums

The first house on the northeast corner of Richmond and Sydenham was "Elliston," built 1861-2 for Ellis Hyman, wealthy tannery owner. In 1902, Adam Beck bought the house, renovated it and renamed it "Headley" after his wife Lillian's parents' home in Surrey. 

Beck was the advocate of hydroelectricity who founded the Hydro-Electric Power Commission of Ontario. And founded the London Health Association, which grew into Victoria and University Hospitals. And became an M.P.P. for London. And a London mayor. And founded the Queen Alexandra Sanitorium, later the Beck Memorial Sanitorium, to treat tuberculosis. His home was one of London's great social centres. 

In 1988, the original Headley was demolished by Sifton and replaced by a replica which pays tribute to the original mansion the way the Bud Centre pays tribute to the Talbot Block. But why couldn't the original home have been preserved and renovated into posh condos like those in the tower Sifton built behind? Why would we want fake historic homes when we could have the real thing? Sir Adam deserved better than a replica.

5. 210 Dundas Street

Built in 1987 on the northwest corner of Dundas and Clarence, this three-storey structure with a mirrored exterior was once the home of Pathways Skills Development. Owned by Farhi Landholdings, it's now leased to the London Free Press. It's cold, uninviting, charmless, and incompatible with its surroundings. Make sure you're wearing sunglasses as you walk past to cut down the glare. 

6. New Homes in The 'Burbs

The soulless cookie cutter look shows no sign of abating as this new neighbourhood north of Fanshawe indicates. Charming and cosy these aren't. Mostly garage, the homes on this street are all about the automobile, as is the subdivision itself.  To get anywhere, you have to drive, since virtually nothing is within walking distance. But maybe 75 years from now, when the tree sticks have grown, these will be quaint, old-fashioned  homes on a tree-shaded street. Even if they're still in the middle of nowhere.

7. Any Unsympathetic Infill

I thought "infill" was going to mean developing unused land to add density and prevent urban sprawl. Instead, the term often applies to the demolition of  an existing building to erect something larger. The new structure often adversely affects smaller neighbouring buildings, dwarfing them and blocking their light. Some new structures just don't fit in. But perhaps that's the builders' purpose - they want to stand out from the crowd. Bigger is better, right? 

8. The "New" Courthouse

The 15-storey Ontario Court of Justice was built in 1974-76. Designed by London firm Stevens and Skinner in the Brutalist style, it's large but lacks charisma, to say the least. The term Brutalist comes from the term béton brut meaning "raw concrete" but there is something "brutal" about this structure at Ridout and Dundas. In fact, it could win a prize for London's most intimidating building. Is that the idea? To dissuade future criminals from breaking the law? All Hope Abandon Ye Who Enter Here. 

9. This Kind of Thing

Look, there's lots of tasteful ways to combine old and new. This isn't one of them.

10. Old Homes With Vinyl Windows

Two homes built at approximately the same time in a similar style. Not in an HCD. At left is a "handyman's special" while the home on the right has been updated with vinyl windows.

I know why, of course. The new windows are affordable, energy-efficient and bring more light into the sitting room. It's also difficult to find skilled tradesmen who can restore wooden windows. Depending on what you read, though, vinyl may be toxic and short-lived. Your vinyl window salesman won't tell you that. Nor will he point out how it destroys the character of an older home. Windows just didn't look like that when the house was built. 

Before replacing older windows, consider alternatives like weatherstripping, oiling or waxing the wood, replacing parts of the window only, a fresh coat of paint, or storm windows. 

Dishonorable Mention:

Museum London, the building most Londoner's love to hate more than any other. Looks like farm silos lying on their sides. Or maybe giant thermos bottles. Who really knows?