SF's Noonan Building: The Waning Days of a Dogpatch Artists’ Enclave
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SF's Noonan Building: The waning days of a Dogpatch artists’ enclave
Leilani Marie Labong
April 13, 2018Updated: April 13, 2018 8:09 p.m.
Robert Minervini in his studio in The Noonan Building at Pier 70 in San Francisco on March 30th, 2018. His parents are from Italy, where he spent his summers as a child.
Peter Prato / Special to The Chronicle
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Behold any rickety wooden structure located on the water’s edge, and it’s easy to let your imagination fill in the details of its history for you. Worse for wear from decades of use and, of course, the elements, the Noonan Building (a.k.a. Building 11) on San Francisco’s Pier 70 is one such fabled edifice, having been quickly constructed in 1941 as a design and administrative headquarters for World War II shipbuilding (some of the doors still bear the original lettering: “Plans,” “Blueprints,” “Sales,” et cetera).
In 1982, a man named Fred Noonan leased the building from the Port of San Francisco for his car-import business. He eventually began subleasing rooms to Bay Area artists in need of affordable studio space, a benevolent agenda that has surpassed Noonan’s tenure — his lease ended in 1993 — and continues to this day.
“When I first moved in, I googled Fred Noonan and found out he was the navigator on Amelia Earhart’s flight — the one that went down over the Pacific Ocean,” says Stevie Howell, a textile designer whose silk robes and pajamas are embellished with designs inspired by English country gardens or the tile work at Hearst Castle. “I was discussing this with another artist in the building who was like, ‘Um, not that Fred Noonan.’”
The timing, of course, was all wrong (Earhart’s plane disappeared in July 1937), but the romanticism felt right for the old building and its remote location on the eastern edge of the city, amid huge, ramshackle warehouses and miles of chain-link fence. It’s the sort of place where tumbleweeds and feral cats are equal in number. Where hulking cargo ships rather than millionaire yachts navigate the waters. Where the background noise can be as jarring as car crushing for 10 hours a day (courtesy of a nearby, now-defunct scrap yard), or as gentle as sea birds squawking.
In an email listing directions to the Noonan, Howell wrote, “When you think you’re in the wrong place, you’re here!” Artist Mike Rothfeld, whose lo-fi Styrofoam sculptures recall the “Pee-Wee’s Playhouse” set, describes the area as “one of the last frontiers of the city, where you get the feeling that anything is possible.”
Of course, in a place like San Francisco where vying for buildable land is practically a blood sport, outskirts never remain outskirts for long. In November, the city unanimously approved a 28-Acre Project devised by Forest City Realty Trust, whose notable San Francisco projects include a forthcoming SoMa mixed-use development and the LEED Gold-certified adaptive reuse of a historic Georgian Revival building in the Presidio, now high-end apartment rentals. The new project will introduce parks, affordable housing and new spaces for artists, retailers, and manufacturers on Pier 70. The rehabilitation of historic structures such as Building 12 (erstwhile used to fabricate steel plates for ships’ hulls) and Building 21 (once home to Risdon Iron Works, a manufacturer of Gold Rush-era mining equipment) is also part of the master plan.
Sadly, the Noonan won’t be among the structures spared, as vital as it is to the livelihoods of its 23 artists, what with its below-market rent and plenty of light and fresh air. “Basic human conditions,” says painter Robert Minervini, who landed at the Noonan five years ago after the hunt for a studio took him to either dank, windowless basements or beautiful but exorbitantly expensive loft-like spaces.
“We didn’t want ours to be another displaced artist community, so we lobbied to save the building,” says photographer David Magnusson, who moved into the Noonan in 1987 when rent payments were made with a cashier’s check at the request of Fred Noonan, who was presumably circumspect about the financial stability of artists.
“While we love the Noonan, it’s definitely time for something newer and better” Such a glittering prospect is especially meaningful in the wake of Oakland’s 2016 Ghost Ship tragedy, in which 36 people died in a code-violating artists’ warehouse that caught fire during a late-night concert.
That said, the Noonan artists, who participate in ArtSpan’s annual Open Studios, are in an odd kind of limbo, despite assurances that they will be grandfathered into a “state-of-the-art space in a new, permanently affordable waterfront arts facility,” says Jack Sylvan, senior vice president of Forest City.
Presumably, the nearby Minnesota Street Project — a progressive model that provides “economically sustainable” spaces for artists, galleries and like-minded nonprofits — would be a good act to follow. With no official timeline for the start of the 28-Acre Project’s “Artist Transition Plan,” which includes a relocation to a temporary studio space, the Noonan tenants are understandably anxious, even wary.
“I won’t believe anything until the ink is dry on a new agreement,” says Rothfeld, revealing the logic required of an academic director at the California College of the Arts, a post he’s held since January. “I have a natural skepticism about these things, just in case.”
More often than not, the promise of a fresh space, where the floors aren’t wonky or the ceiling tiles don’t peel off to reveal a suspiciously fibrous substance, sufficiently transcends the fear of displacement. If all goes according to plan, Pier 70, the 2.0 version, just one part of San Francisco’s ever-gentrifying waterfront, will retain aspects of its frontier spirit: feral felines will still emerge at dusk, tumbleweeds will continue to roll through the parking lot, and that sublime light will pour in through hopefully bigger studio windows, illuminating everything.
Leilani Marie Labong is a San Francisco freelance writer. Email: style@sfchronicle.com.
Five of the 23 Noonan Building artists
Kim Austin, www.austinpress.com Noonan tenant since: 1998
Embosses ephemera with minimalist Victorian designs on a 19th century-style Chandler & Price letterpress. “I love how the building has had a few different lives.”
Mike Rothfeld, https://mikerothfeld.com Noonan tenant since: 2013
His theatrical, oversize sculptures can be disassembled into parts that can fit through the narrow Noonan stairwells (there is no freight elevator on site). “I’d love to work in a warehouse because I make stupidly big work, but being here, where I feel challenged and impressed by the artists, forces me to be a better artist.”
David Magnusson, www.davidmagnusson.com Noonan tenant since: 1989
Shoots “artful documentary-style” photos of people and places. “The Noonan has been a generous dream, a place where I have been fortunate enough to experiment and learn.”
Stevie Howell, www.steviehowell.com Noonan tenant since: 2015
Her painterly loungewear regularly skims the sleek physiques of actress Sharon Stone and Victoria’s Secret angel Anne Vyalitsyna. “My favorite time of the day is when the wildlife comes out, mostly at sunset. Skunks, opossums, cats, you name it. That’s usually when I like to start painting.”
Robert Minervini, www.robertminervini.com Noonan tenant since: 2013
Explores the intersection of nature and culture on his large-scale canvases. “When I first moved in, I would go up to the roof at twilight just to take in the view of the decrepit buildings and pristine nature. I’m already nostalgic for the place and its specialness.”