A Creole house in strong ochre, red and green rather than white columns — and a site that puts its history first.
An avenue of twenty-eight live oaks older than the house they lead to — and a site whose history has to be understood before it is booked.
A modern hotel above the waterfront near Pike Place — which suits some couples exactly and others not at all.
An aquarium on a pier over Elliott Bay, with an unobstructed western horizon a few steps outside the door.
A glass hotel above the Seattle waterfront — where the dominant light is a softbox the size of the sky.
A downtown museum on one of Seattle's steep streets, with a forty-eight-foot black figure hammering outside the door.
A riverside convention centre beside a waterfall — where the concourse glass and the park outside do most of the work.
A converted industrial loft in Jersey City — no view, no daylight to speak of after four, and four ways round both.
A marina-side venue in Liberty State Park — a working waterfront, which suits some weddings exactly and others not at all.
A waterfront venue where the best frame is made through the glass — and made so the glass is invisible.