The only noise on the other end of the phone was static.
“Hello? Hello?” I said.
“…a crime…12 South…”
“You’re breaking up. Call back when your cell comes through better.”
Long sigh. “Sorry. It’s not my phone; it’s me. I had an unusually big breakfast—pancakes instead of yogurt—and I’m having trouble keeping it down. I just came down the street and….” The voice struggled for control.
“What street?” I asked sharply.
“I’m on Linden and had to pull over. I was going to that new Italian deli behind MafiaOza’s. I’m having a dinner party and heard they have good cheeses.”
“You’ve got the wrong number, lady. Kay West covers the cheese beat.”
“No, No, I want to report an architectural crime. I’m looking right at it. It’s near Rumours, where we celebrated our last anniversary. Now the block’s ruined. The address is 2222 12th Ave. South.” The disconnected line hummed with regret.
It was almost lunchtime and my stomach was in better shape than my caller’s, so I decided to head out to 12 South and pick up a panini at Corrieri’s. It didn’t take long to discover that the lady tipster was right.
Just after 12th Avenue narrows and the traffic slows, there’s a new building on the east side of the street with a large “For Lease” sign out front. The style of the architecture is the kind of pseudo-vintage stuff—a dollop of Second Avenue, a dash of New Orleans—that puts the “ick” in brick.
Here the brick is of the pre-used, multicolor variety, producing a visually textured surface that resembles a face with acne. In addition to basic cladding, the brick is also used decoratively, outlining corners, doors and cornice panels, and—curiouser and curiouser—laid in a herringbone pattern to fill in what would be window holes in an old building. The multicolor brick, however, blurs the outlines, undercutting the effect of sculptural relief. But in this case, maybe blurry is better.
Pairs of doors that are considered “Creole” in the Crescent City and “French” everywhere else mark the front of the three-story facade. The top row of doors is round-headed, and those below are squared off and topped by transoms. Unfortunately, the transoms are of incorrect proportions—large squares rather than horizontal rectangles. This diminishes the vertical thrust of the doors and creates the effect of an overlarge head on a short body.
Another allusion to the Vieux Carre is the metal balcony that divides the facade. The balconies of the French Quarter stretch across the sidewalk, providing shade for walkers and outdoor living space for occupants of the upper levels. Here the much shallower balcony hangs over a way-too-tall front porch that’s faced—you guessed it—with more brick and edged with a cable railing that strikes an oddly nautical note.
This porch elevates the storefront high above the sidewalk. Imagine if the pubs of Second Avenue were fronted by flights of steps. Such a hostile gesture to the street runs directly counter to the master plan that the Metro Development and Housing Agency commissioned for 12 South in 1997.
After much community input, the design team, led by Hawkins Partners, developed a plan for a more pedestrian-friendly streetscape for the area immediately north of Sevier Park. Metro’s $1 million investment delivered narrower lanes for cars, more and wider sidewalks with trees, on-street and communal parking, fewer utility poles, human-scaled lighting and arty trash cans and benches. The point was to turn a drive-through neighborhood into a destination.
Today, 12 South is hip and a lure for new investment. But this latest investment is money misspent.
The architecture of 12 South is a funky mixture with its own organic integrity. Typical 1920s-style commercial buildings are pulled up right to the sidewalk, with glass windows providing lots of transparency. Strip shop fragments with a ’60s look are interspersed among bungalows with front yards. This is a place where the Victorian Zion Christian Church, the copper-domed Islamic Center and the Dolly Parton hacienda are equally at home.
If you hadn’t seen it, throwing a Second Avenue building type into this gumbo would seem to add just another spice to the roux. But the effect is a slab of Spam. That’s because the prototypical Second Avenue building wants to rub shoulders with other buildings of similar ilk, in the process forming a continuous street wall and defining a formal urban space. In the relaxed and informal urbanity of 12 South, the new building stands uncomfortably alone.
The replication of historic architectural styles requires a careful consideration of the immediate context as well as the antique prototype. Neither is evident at 2222 12th Ave. S.
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