How the Asher Adams has Set a New Standard for Design in Downtown Salt Lake City
By now you’ve likely heard about Asher Adams, Salt Lake City’s first Marriott Autograph Collection hotel, built from and adjacent to downtown Salt Lake City’s century-plus-old Union Pacific Depot. To sum up my first impression of this much talked- and written-about property: it is one of the most thoughtful, cool and creative hotels I’ve ever visited. What makes it so special? Its exceptionally executed adaptive reuse, thoughtful interior design and expertly curated art.
“This is the heart of this project,” says Emir Tursic, partner with HKS Salt Lake City and principal-in-charge architect of the Asher Adams. He and I are sitting in the hotel’s reception area, a soaring space framed by three-story-high, domed ceilings, aptly named the Grand Hall. This stunning room remains very similar to how it was built in 1909 as the depot’s waiting room, but thanks to thoughtful enhancements, the space is now a far cry from the stodgy vibe its historic status implies. Beautifully lit, creamy white walls set off original gold-toned moldings, oil-on-canvas murals and stained glass windows. Except for new bulb globes, the hall’s ornate sconces are original as well. Sound absorption was installed during the redo to mitigate the impacts of original tile flooring, which also remains in place. “It was like an echo chamber in here before,” Tursic says. “If someone was speaking in a normal tone of voice on the other side of the hall, you could hear them like they were right next to you.”
JNS Architecture + Interior Design’s Nicole Nathan and Kayla Goldberg grounded the Grand Hall’s cavernous height and traditional details with inviting and modern furnishings that give a subtle nod to the room’s historic status. Small café tables are placed at intervals along wooden bench seating reminiscent of what passengers sat on as they waited for a train in the original depot. Spherical-bulbed lamps, hinting at the fixtures found on train station platforms, stand sentinel over the bench seating. A full service bar, called The Bar at Asher Adams, is oriented around historically accurate replicas of the room’s original ticket windows. “The depot’s 1902 ticket windows had been replaced at some point in time with ones that had no structural integrity,” Goldberg says. “In our design we tried to match the proportions and profiles of the original 1902 ticket windows and reinterpreted the metal work in order to accommodate bottle storage for the bar.” Islands of Scandinavian-style sofas and chairs—upholstered in rich leather, woven fabric and velvet—intersperse the bench seating to invite more intimate, relaxed gatherings within the large scale of the museum-like space.
“The Grand Hall is a public space,” Tursic says, “and so we wanted to make it a community gathering space by taking cues from grand hotel lobbies, and Utah Hotels in particular, that used to be a center of Salt Lake City’s social sphere.” With that goal in mind, Tursic bisected the striking room all sides with entry points, creating “an energy similar to what it was like here when it was a train station,” he says. These entrances include transom-window topped glass doors out to the sidewalk along 400 West; an outdoor hallway connecting the hotel to neighboring Gateway mall; an archway into the hotel’s coffee shop, Counterpart; and entry to the hotel’s restaurant, Rouser. In the latter, a long bar, spanning the cocktail area into an open kitchen, establishes a subtle sense of linear movement, like a train. Color and texture are layered throughout the space, from the green velvet bench, strewn with gold and ecru pillows, to the oversized black warehouse pendant lights suspended overhead. “In Rouser we exposed as much of the original building elements as possible, such as the original columns and concrete floors,” Goldberg says. “We were even able to create a screen element in the dining room from an original iron gate found within the walls of the building during construction.”
Transitioning from Past to Present
On the west side of the Grand Hall is a lounge and elevator bay clearly denoting departure from the historic depot into the new 225-guest room tower. A fireplace centers this transitional room where modern décor leans into the hotel’s Utah locale, creating a contrasting yet complementary juxtaposition with the Grand Hall’s heritage elements.
Tursic and I board the elevator for the second floor and head over to No. 119, a “whiskey-forward” cocktail bar named after one of the locomotives that met face-to-face at Utah’s Promontory Summit when the U.S.’s first transcontinental rail line was completed in 1869. The bar’s almost-black walls highlight gorgeous arched windows that frame views of downtown on one side of the room and, on the other, arched openings offering a more detailed view of the Grand Hall’s stained-glass windows and murals.
Just down the hall from No. 119 is the Gandy Dancer, a dark, den-like private event space centered on a huge three-sided, sectional sofa upholstered in chic golden velvet. This endlessly hip room is home to more than 2,500 vinyl records, curated by world-class DJ and music producer Jared Dietch. “Our intent with this space was to create something that’s special and that felt different from the rest of the hotel,” Goldberg says. “So, we blanketed the entire room in that moody color, chose a herringbone-patterned oak flooring and used modern neon-like pendants for lighting. We also thought the vinyl collection would be a fun way to acknowledge the hotel’s connection to [The Depot] music venue.”
As we walk farther down the hall into the guest room tower, Tursic points out its curve, oriented toward the Union Pacific Depot building; a solution, he says, that was utilized primarily to accommodate the site’s space constraints and to protect the integrity of the historic building. Like how the fireplace lounge’s contemporary vibe provides a complementary foil to the Grand Hall, the tower’s minimalist, east-facing façade beautifully sets off the historic depot’s rich sandstone brick siding, dramatic finial-topped dormers and patinaed copper roof. Tursic used a congruent but “more contemporary interpretation of the curved building shape” on the tower’s west-facing or Gateway side, arranging the curve of the building in a series of rectilinear planes, to harmonize with the mall’s more current ethos.
Inside one of the tower rooms, I’m immediately struck by the bathroom format. A sleek, black-and-white veined granite vanity and floating mirror divides the sink, shower and water closet from the rest of the space, with no walls or doors. (There are doors on the water closet and shower, however.) “We call it a deconstructed bathroom,” Goldberg says, “to allow more light into the building and to push the boundary of what’s expected in a modern way.” The guest room’s unexpected theme is carried through the guest rooms by beautifully textured textiles, including a built-in bench covered in menswear-inspired plaid and leather, a bed framed by a cane-and-stained-wood headboard and draped with a Southwestern throw, and a geometric-patterned carpet flooring. The guest tower’s slight curve means that the view from each of the building’s double-stacked rooms is unique. Rooms facing west are treated to bird’s-eye glimpses of the Gateway and of the city’s bustling west side; the tower’s east-facing room windows frame interesting views of the depot, downtown and the mountains beyond.
The Asher Adams’ 13 historical suites were incorporated within the original Union Pacific Depot and are reached from a second elevator bay located directly inside the hotel’s main valet. These rooms have a definitively more traditional ambiance, with just enough modern touches to prevent them from feeling too historic. Exposed brick, high ceilings and picture-frame wall molding are balanced by leather, velvet and cane-backed Scandinavian furniture and a sleek canopy bed. The suites’ bathrooms feature brass fixtures, crisp marble topped wood vanities and a fabulous free-standing soaking tub. “We wanted the historic part of the building to maintain its historic feel and for the new tower rooms to be more modern, and so we chose furnishings and finishings that both made them distinctive from one another and yet tied them together at the same time,” Nathan says. Capping off the elevated experience offered by the historic suites, each includes a usable exterior balcony.
Telling Utah Stories through Art
Within Asher Adams’ Grand Hall, the original murals and stained glass windows—by San Francisco artists John McQuarries and Harry Hopp, respectively—acknowledge both how the Union Pacific Depot was once used and Utah’s pioneer roots. But when Denise Joseph with NINE dot ARTS was asked to curate a collection for the hotel’s public and private spaces, she took the travel and exploration themes established by these existing art pieces several steps further. “The Transcontinental Railroad was strongly rooted in the exchange of ideas,” Joseph says. “And the hotel is named for two railroad cartographers [Railroad route mappers John R. Asher and George H. Adams]. So, we wanted its art collection to reflect themes around movement, geography, maps and discovery in a way that would highlight the historic integrity and artistry of the depot but through a modern lens.” Even more appropriately, most of the Asher Adams’ art collection was made by Utah artists.
A piece that I fell in love with at first sight, and that illustrates Joseph’s aim of telling the depot’s greater story in a contemporary context, is Traversed, a framed collage of manila envelopes by Provo-based artist and educator, Jean Richardson, that hangs in the guest room tower’s fireplace lounge. Another example is the Utah landscape scenes painted on the gold-toned walls in the hotel’s elevators, a series by Salt Lake City muralists (and husband and wife) Matt Monsoon and Brooklyn Otten, titled Wasatch Mountains, Desert Canyons and Wetlands. A third is a serene golden barn painting, called Pioneer Spring, by renowned Utah-born and Salt Lake City-based painter Justin Wheatley. And I deeply appreciated how Joseph chose to spotlight one of the state’s most endangered landforms on the wall outside the main floor’s meeting rooms with Wyoming photographer Mitch Rouse’s trio of aerial photographs—Great Salt Lake 1, Great Salt Lake 5, and Great Lake 3.
Art also plays prominently in the décor of Asher Adams’ 225 guest rooms and 13 historic suites as well (where, all told, 1,017 artworks are displayed). A display that captures the tenor of Utah’s past, present, and distinctive landscape particularly well is a gallery of five pieces in the guest rooms. This thoughtful collection includes photos of the Great Salt Lake by Ivins, Utah-native Jeff Botkin; framed pressed flowers by Vernal, Utah mixed media artist Madison Young; vintage postcards collected through the Utah Historical Society; a pinned butterfly piece by French artist Jean-Michel Arrigona (who now calls Salt Lake City home); and Bee & Damask, a print-on-canvas homage to the Beehive State inspired by the coffered ceilings in the depot’s Grand Hall by Canadian artist and Salt Lake City transplant, Kara Aina.
Not all of Asher Adams’ art is contemporary, however. Joseph worked closely with the Utah Historical Society to collects artifacts from and relating to the depot’s train travel heyday to display at various points in the hotel. Historic photos and items from the depot’s construction are displayed in a hallway near the restrooms in the Grand Hall. Vintage luggage, a pair of women’s gloves and other items related to train travel are exhibited on the second floor near No. 119. And on the third floor is a gallery wall of portraits of people who made the depot run, like ticket sellers, bellman and engineers. “These moments were intended to transport people back in time, and to ensure that we were honoring the integrity of this place,” Joseph says.
Before its stunning rebirth, I was aware of the Union Pacific Depot, but in a context pretty much exclusive to how the building’s marquee would catch my eye when I was downtown for a Jazz game, dinner or visit to The Gateway. Now, however, it is no longer just an imposing afterthought. Its adept reuse has elevated both its prominence and function in the community, redefining the old depot in a way that is, perhaps, not unlike how it was considered when it was built more than a century ago.