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Physical Spiritual Concrete
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Potowat, a Wiyot Indian word for the nearby Mad River, accomplishes a careful balancing act. It embraces the historic architectural traditions of local tribes and Native American culture without resorting to trite caricature.
The health center consists of one structure made to look like 12 small buildings wrapped around a central courtyard. This configuration improves internal pedestrian traffic flow and is seismically stronger, a necessity in this area designated Earthquake Zone 4. The inner courtyard includes a pond and native plants. Weisenbach says that once the trees mature, Potowat will look like it's nestled in a forest.
"The architecture evolved from both our spiritual and physical needs," says Dale Ann Frye Sherman, a UIHS representative. "It must be a place where we remember the Old Medicine and use it with the new medicine. The designers were culturally sensitive and listened to our needs."
The health center will offer modern health services , but the strongest emphasis will be on wellness. "Good health," says Jerome Simone, CEO of UIHS. "must include the health of the entire community, including its culture, language, arts, traditions, and environment. The design of Potowat reflects this philosophy and embraces the connection that the American Indians of our community have with the land around them."
The architecture and landscape design embrace this culture through the use of native plants and open spaces, fostering an abundance of natural light into the facility while encouraging wellness with the embrace of water, trees, and flora.
Simulating the Red Wood
In their choice of materials for the village, Weisenbach and MulvannyG2 made a bold departure from historic traditions. The result, ironically, works well to evoke that history.
Describing traditional redwood construction methods, Weisenbach says: "You have to hand-split the pieces you're going to use out of the middle of the log and throw the rest away. You only get about two planks from each tree, and that much redwood just isn't available." Yet the massive redwood trees are sacred here. The clients made it clear that substituting another type of wood would have been unacceptable.
To their surprise, Weisenbach favored the use of tilt-up concrete modified to resemble redwood planks, which would also satisfy the rigid seismic requirements. Working with a company in nearby Santa Rosa that makes disposable form liners, Mulvanny G2 specified slabs of concrete made with the texture of redwood planks in a variety of similar patterns.
With one redwood plank acting as the model, several different form liners were made and used to give variety to the slabs. The planks were then treated with an acid etch stain technique that gives the appearance of weathered redwood grain. Out of a crass-sounding approach has come a delicate and innovative solution.
Weisenbach recalls that the UIHS representatives were initially dubious because this had never been tried before. But when the form was stripped off and the concrete stained, they were convinced.
The architects didn't rely exclusively on the redwood-simulating precast concrete. They also retrieved redwood boards from a 1890-vintage mill building near San Francisco. They obtained enough boards to line the gathering room at the Potowat entry, a 50-foot- (15-meter) square space.
Potowat and its predecessor, Takopid, are among the high points of recent architecture in a Native American context. Future projects will do well to so clearly achieve homage without caricature.
Brian Libby is a Portland, Oregon-based freelance writer who has also published in the New York Times, Metropolis and Architectural Record.
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