SoMa tower: Grand it ain't
John King, Chronicle Staff Writer
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
The word "containerization" refers to the movement of goods by ship and rail in stark utilitarian crates.
These days, unfortunately, it also describes what's happening in more and more cities as the landscape gets cluttered with buildings that contain housing but otherwise just sit there, static and squat.
And San Francisco has the perfect tower to illustrate the trend: the Soma Grand, a 22-story slab on Mission Street that is fine as far as it goes, but doesn't go nearly far enough.
The colors are neutral, the look is modern but muted, and the shape is determined by the quest to lay out the residential floors as efficiently as possible. It's nearly as wide as it is tall, and it meets the skyline with nothing more memorable than a mid-block spire that looks like a car antenna.
Everything is careful and cost-effective; the interior is sleek and smart. But like too many residential containers in the Bay Area and beyond, nothing about Soma Grand engages the scene around it. It's a wet blanket at billboard scale.
The only truly innovative aspect about Soma Grand is the way the 246 units at 1160 Mission St. are being marketed.
This stretch of Mission Street long was off the map, with most passers-by probably on their way to the Skid Row hangouts of Sixth Street and United Nations Plaza. That constituency hasn't gone away, but now there's more in the mix; most noticeably, the corner of Seventh and Mission streets is home to the futuristic San Francisco Federal Building.
Taking advantage of all this, Soma Grand bills itself as in the heart of an up-and-coming 'hood, with prices starting at $500,000. And to soothe the nerves of buyers banking on changes yet to come, Soma Grand offers hotel-like amenities. There's maid service twice a month, monthly wine tastings, Peet's Coffee in the chic lounge and a rooftop terrace with a communal hot tub.
There's even a stab at glitz along Mission Street at the entrance: The ground-floor facade wears a thin sheet of smooth limestone. Above it, three levels of parking hide behind the building's public art - a 390-panel mural of colorful and creamy textured glass by Dorothy Lenehan.
"Life is about striking a balance between indulgence and utility, and we've designed Soma Grand around both," coos the sales brochure.
As indulgent as the innards might be - the spacious fifth-floor terrace is worthy of a Las Vegas resort - utility calls the shots in terms of looks.
Despite the 240-foot height, the design by the Mill Valley firm AI is resolutely horizontal, one floor stacked atop the next without setback or shift until you reach the 21st floor. There, the precast concrete panels shift from beige to off-white, and private terraces are notched into the northwest and southeast corners.
Finally, on the flat roof, a screened-in mechanical area pops up in the middle like a miniature hat graced by an antenna instead of a feather.
The slab is relatively thin, so it doesn't look bad from southern perspectives such as Highway 101. But the view next door from the Federal Building's large plaza is as ungainly as can be: a long box with indentations and bays but no verve.
Nor is there the rich texture that can make a solid mass compelling, as is the case with the nearby U.S. Court of Appeals building and its classical granite facade. This is just flat concrete panels of varying depths, punctuated by greenish glass.
The sidewalk presence also suffers from a just-business mentality. The limestone veneer stops at the edge of the ground-floor facade, not even turning the corner, so you can see that it's less than half an inch thick. Pedestrians also get to stroll past the deep dark mouth of the parking garage.
On a different site this wouldn't matter so much. Like it or not, in today's economy, containers have their place. I'd gladly swap a lean version of Soma Grand for some of the towers in Rincon Hill or Mission Bay.
Here, though, the capable container stands directly perpendicular to the Federal Building - a similarly proportioned splash of architectural bravado with a veil of perforated steel panels spilling down a broad slab of concrete and glass.
The Federal Building's monochromatic drama isn't for everyone - design architect Thom Mayne doesn't do low-key - but it hums with energy. There's a jangle of contrasts, such as vertical glass fins below enormous horizontal folds of steel, and a presence that's heavy from one angle and nimble from another.
Soma Grand shrivels by comparison. It has the soul of a background building in a foreground location with the most awkward element of the show - its girth - on full display. What you see is what you get, and what you get never changes.
It'd be great if every building was designed to be a landmark, and if all developers signed off on the details with no thought for the bottom line.
That won't happen.
The problem is, if all we get is a business deal - a container - the result casts a pall on what's nearby. There are plenty of examples in the Bay Area. Soma Grand may be the largest. Too bad it's not likely to be the last.
