Hiya Gang, Choya here. I’m on vacation in Seattle, and I’ve fortified myself with a fresh cup of coffee—apparently the thing to do. It's strong enough to stand on its own but smooth enough to sip slowly.
I’m on vacation in Seattle—or at least that’s what I keep telling myself. But there’s a purpose tucked between the coffee breaks and ferry rides: I’m here to find a building for Sandy’s Art Deco contest.
First up on my list: the Exchange Building, Seattle’s first commodities exchange—and one of the city’s most impressive examples of Art Deco architecture. Rising twenty-three stories above downtown, it’s a tall, circular-cornered structure that seems to hold both elegance and grit in its limestone skin.
Built in 1930, right as the Great Depression was beginning, the Exchange Building was meant to be a symbol of optimism and modernity—a hub for trading goods like wheat, lumber, and other resources that built the Pacific Northwest. The irony, of course, is that by the time it opened, the economy had collapsed and the exchange it was meant to house never really took off. But the building endured, adapting to new uses and new tenants as the decades rolled on.
Next up on my Seattle architecture hunt: the Seattle Tower—originally known as the Northern Life Tower. I came here with my notebook and a sense of purpose, curious to see if this could be the building for Sandy’s Art Deco contest.
Its brick façade shifting in tone from deep earthy browns at the base to pale, cloud-colored shades near the top. There are thirty-three shades of brick in total, arranged to make the structure look like it’s growing straight out of the ground.
Completed in 1929, just as the Great Depression was beginning, it was Seattle’s first true Art Deco skyscraper.
Next up on my Seattle Art Deco hunt: the Roosevelt Hotel. Yes, it’s Art Deco, but unlike the Exchange Building or Seattle Tower, it doesn’t try to dazzle with ornamentation. It’s subtle, restrained, and elegant, more about clean lines and confident geometry than flashy details.
Built in 1929, around the same time as the city’s other Deco landmarks, the Roosevelt was designed to serve travelers with comfort and style. Its façade is straightforward, with modest decorative elements—linear patterns, stepped setbacks, and a simple vertical emphasis that gives it presence without demanding attention.
I walked around the corner, studying the angles of the roofline and the gentle reliefs near the entrance. It’s a building that feels practical, yet carefully considered. Its charm isn’t in extravagance; it’s in proportion, balance, and that quiet Art Deco flair that whispers sophistication rather than shouting it.









