Everyone in the building business admits some unease over government-imposed design review — the idea that a city official or an unpaid board can say yes or no in matters of architectural taste. Developers worry that forced beautification, as some call it, slows progress and adds cost. Architects fear that established standards force them to think inside the box, rather than to dream up new things.

Nearly everyone has concerns that regulations could limit property rights and increase bureaucracy, that they put too much power in the hands of neighborhood associations and NIMBY activists who could dominate the process, that it’s impossible to agree on aesthetic choices.

Yet nearly everyone backs them, especially now in Denver, where the construction boom is on and the consensus is that a lot of buildings are going up that disrespect the character of their surroundings and harm the city’s image as a capital of progressive, Western living. Ugly might be hard to define, but there is widespread agreement that it’s on the rise.

So are regulations.

Special districts

Denver now has about 20 neighborhoods and large developments, from Cherry Creek North to Stapleton, where new projects face mandatory review by the planning department. In addition, there are about 7,000 structures in designated historic areas where renovations must undergo design scrutiny.

Still, the rules cover only about 15 percent of the total geography, and there’s an aggressive plan to expand. The city likely will add two new, and crucial, review areas in the next year: the quickly growing River North ( RiNo) and Arapahoe Square downtown. Committees are drafting guidelines.

“For me, it all comes back to the idea that the true value of a place is in the public realm,” said Brad Buchanan, who directs Denver’s Community Planning and Development agency, giving him the most sway over the matter. “It’s very clear to me and to our department that we have a responsibility to each other in protecting that public realm.”

Buchanan insists that design review isn’t about taste as much as context, but there’s a thin line, and the guidelines vary from the usual, catch-all regulations established by traditional zoning codes.

Types of limitations

For example, zoning rules determine use, cap buildings at a certain height and mass, and establish setbacks from the street. Design rules, like the ones in Stapleton, designate choices in materials, placement of windows and the shape of roofs. Concrete block (cinderblock in more common terms) and “tilt-up” concrete walls are discouraged.

Design rules across the special districts might require that garages be made from the same materials as the primary structure on a property, that entrances are marked by porches or awnings or recessed front doors, that ornamental finishes hold up against weather.

“A wide variety of appropriate architectural styles, materials and details throughout the district are encouraged,” the Cherry Creek North codes state generally, before laying out a long list of specifics.

It’s hard to argue that “architectural styles” are not a matter of taste or that other rules go well beyond the usual tools governments use to keep streets safe and healthy. The district goes so far as to expect developers to save existing trees, create “inviting façades,” use background “halo” illumination on signage, and employ sustainable building practices. Is that even design?

Cherry Creek rules are strict, but they have been effective and now serve as a model for emerging districts. The area has boomed, wildly, adding hundreds of thousands of built square-footage, but it looks slick, designers and developers agree, thanks to an understanding that materials have to be genuine, that retail spaces must be lively and transparent to keep the visuals interesting, that public plazas stay at a human scale common to a low-rise area — attributes suggested in the design package that’s now reviewed by an advisory panel.

“Just the presence of a board can cause you to be more conscious of design,” said developer Randy Nichols, whose handsome, Clayton Lane project set a forward-looking standard for a decade of construction in the area.

More in order?

Would widespread design review save more of Denver? Would it eliminate the undistinguished apartment buildings going up in other areas — quickie construction jobs that use cheap vinyl and wood materials, cram their lots, leave little breathing space for the people who live in or around them, that dab on bright Velveeta cheese-colored squares of paint to obscure the fact that they are boring blocks otherwise?

Should the Broadway corridor, Highland, and all those neighborhoods along the new light rail line be design-restricted?

That’s likely impossible as far as enforcement goes, and impractical regardless.

Design review works only when there’s a basis for creating standards that everyone can agree on in the first place. A neighborhood already has to have common characteristics — building heights or historic materials, houses or warehouses, parks or paths, a certain density.

“It’s easy to come up with design standards in homogenous places, like Cherry Creek. But if you try to apply that in other areas, it gets really difficult,” said architect Chris Shears, of Shears Adkins Rockmore, a strong proponent of design review — when it’s done effectively.

What’s common along Broadway as it heads south through the city? Or in all of Globeville or LoHi or West Colfax, other places developers are eyeing?

Common in RiNo is its industrial style, and the new rules shaping up there are taking cues from existing structures made of steel or concrete, that stand at a common height, that avoid the ornamentation of mansions in Capitol Hill or the glass of downtown.

Denver designer and builder Mickey Zeppelin is among those pushing for the guidelines. His Taxi development is proof of what’s possible, a place that has introduced mixed uses to the neighborhood — retail, office, residential — without losing the character. His buildings have a similar personality to the factories that long defined the area’s style.

“What makes great neighborhoods around the country is that there are places for people get together, places on the street to buy goods, places where people can communicate,” said Zeppelin. “That’s what neighborhoods are all about.”

Fairness, timeliness are important

Like other developers and architects, Zeppelin believes successful design guidelines come down to the way they are enforced.

Denver planner Nore Winter is a consultant for cities across the country who want to strengthen their design. His firm is currently developing a review process for Los Angeles, the country’s second-largest city.

Review is effective only if it is set up to be fair, predictable and efficient, he believes. The rules have to be based on tangible attributes of the neighborhood. “Good and bad is not really the subject for most design-review guidelines,” he said.

Governments and boards have to work within reasonable time frames in approving projects, so construction — which brings jobs and housing and tax revenue — isn’t unduly interrupted. Review must take place at the various stages of design, from concept to permitting documents, so there are no money-losing surprises.

And possibly most important, review boards or planning staffs have to be qualified. Panels should be made up of architects, city workers and neighborhood representatives, but they have to know something about design and accept that neighborhoods will grow and change, and that taste varies.

Anti-development activists, architects with huge egos and folks vying for a piece of the financial pie should find another venue to air their interests.

Those who are there for a personal agenda are problematic, Winter said, “whether you’re a talented designer or a do-gooder in the neighborhood.”

Make room for new ideas

The rules also need to have some provision that allows for new ideas to take shape. The Clyfford Still Museum, for example, is Denver’s best-regarded piece of contemporary architecture, but would designer Brad Cloepfil’s basic concept — a concrete box with a minimum of windows — fit the guidelines in most places?

Zeppelin suggests that’s just a matter of writing the best rules, making things like innovation and neighborhood needs part of the standard. Design can have unintended benefits for a city. Limiting building type and height in a developing part of town, he suggests, also limits the value of property in those places because developers can’t go up and up, creating more units. If property values are limited, neighborhoods in general are more affordable — they don’t become places where only wealthy people can afford to live.

It’s all about methods. The most effective reviewers work more like consultants — free ones in a way — for construction projects. During the process, they might suggest bigger living spaces or insist on sharper retail options or advise on the inclusion of outdoor spaces, such as functional balconies or common green spaces, or remind developers that the backs of their buildings are important, too — things that actually add value when it comes time to lease or sell a property.

They protect investors’ interests because they prevent the next developers from coming along and putting up yet another ugly building that brings down everybody’s worth.

Shears, who has served on boards and put his case before them, describes good review as a simple conversation among people who care about their city.

Effective review “adds depth and breadth,” he said. “You can encourage good design and avoid weakness, and you can recognize opportunities that maybe the designer hasn’t recognized.”

Ray Mark Rinaldi: 303-954-1540, rrinaldi@denverpost.com or @rayrinaldi