They were just photographed that way. In real life they’re both extremely vibrant places. Geisel is always full, despite the fact that on a campus with broadband in every dorm room and downloadable e-reserves, there’s not much of a real reason to go to the library… yet people do… tons of them.
Well, even though they’ll rarely admit it explicitly for fear of sounding desperate, humans are social animals and they yearn to have at least some contact with fellow humans. So if you let them choose between being alone (unless they’re extraordinarily popular hubs of social life) and hanging out in desolate modernist spaces, they will choose the latter. But all real-life experience shows that they much prefer gathering at traditional public spaces and interiors.
And the Salk Institute.… Kahn designed it to be much more impressive from the inside than the outside. The buildings are kind of boring from the outside, but then you go in and realize that he’s painstakingly laid out every since exterior and interior wall for the specific purpose of ensuring that every single office, every single lab, every single lab bench, has its own private, unobstructed ocean view. How’s that for a “tolerable place to spend your time”?
That might indeed be true—but, at best, it means that the architect has taken advantage of an extraordinary location to achieve that. In contrast, classical architecture and interior design manage to achieve at least a tolerable (and often very pleasant) surrounding in far less promising places.
(By the way, can you open a window in these ocean-view rooms? In the overwhelming majority of modernist buildings, you can’t do it anywhere at all. Speaking for myself, I’d much prefer to be able to open a window looking towards an entirely mediocre classical landscape than to have unopenable glass separating me from the most spectacular ocean view. The latter, honestly, seems to me no better than a poster on the wall.)
So if you let them choose between being alone (unless they’re extraordinarily popular hubs of social life) and hanging out in desolate modernist spaces, they will choose the latter.
The campus has no shortage of social spaces to hang out in, most with more conventional architecture, yet many choose Geisel. I don’t think anyone thinks of it as “desolate”—I’m pretty sure that’s not the adjective the Trek producers had in mind when they cast it as Starfleet Headquarters in one of the movies. At the top floors of the inverted pyramid, 360 degrees of glass result in a spectacular view… at sunset it’s downright romantic. The stacks up there are a popular place for the undergrads to lose their virginity (or so I’ve heard).
at best, it means that the architect has taken advantage of an extraordinary location to achieve that.
The location alone just gets you a few rooms on one side with a view. Here though, an amazing amount of thought was put into how to lay things out so that everybody gets a view.
By the way, can you open a window in these ocean-view rooms?
I can’t say for sure, as I never worked in that building. But I suspect that they do open—the building across the street from it where I used to work was also brutalist (though much less impressive), and its windows opened.
OK, since I’m writing this on LW after all, I guess it’s time to recognize that I’ve long passed the boundary from rational argument to an impassioned propagandistic defense of my own view in a value- and taste-laden controversy.
I’ve never seen these buildings that you describe, so I can’t make any final judgement about them. It could be that these are indeed some genuine cases of modernist architecture working well, though I still suspect that it’s a matter of having such a spectacularly good space that it’s extremely hard to ruin it even with the ugliest architecture imaginable. (To quote William Whyte, “Given a fine location, it is difficult to design a space that will not attract people. What is remarkable is how often this has been accomplished.”) But, yes, it might be that these buildings are really much better than I though modernism could ever be. (On the other hand, judging by what can be seen on the web, these Salk Institute spaces look pretty damn desolate.)
What I still don’t doubt, though, is that the average practical results of traditional architecture are far better than the average practical results of modernism. This seems to me overwhelmingly obvious from virtually all the examples I can think of, which includes everyday sights from several cities I’ve lived in that feature a mix of both.
These things tend to only be overwhelmingly obvious once one has picked a disputable success measure. Do these different styles cost the same to build, does one allow higher population density than the other, is demographics confounding things in some other way, what about the effects on people who don’t spend time at the places themselves but see the buildings from far away or in pictures?
OK, since I’m writing this on LW after all, I guess it’s time to recognize that I’ve long passed the boundary from rational argument to an impassioned propagandistic defense of my own view in a value- and taste-laden controversy.
Well yeah, obviously this entire conversation has been about totally subjective questions of taste. Nothing wrong with that though, as long as no one is fooling themselves into thinking it’s something other than that.
Well yeah, obviously this entire conversation has been about totally subjective questions of taste. Nothing wrong with that though, as long as no one is fooling themselves into thinking it’s something other than that.
Still, I think that it makes sense to ask whether traditional or modernist architecture on average does a better job creating spaces that will satisfy the subjective tastes of the majority of people, for which the best evidence are people’s revealed preferences and attitudes. In this sense, there is an objective question here after all.
kodos96:
Well, even though they’ll rarely admit it explicitly for fear of sounding desperate, humans are social animals and they yearn to have at least some contact with fellow humans. So if you let them choose between being alone (unless they’re extraordinarily popular hubs of social life) and hanging out in desolate modernist spaces, they will choose the latter. But all real-life experience shows that they much prefer gathering at traditional public spaces and interiors.
That might indeed be true—but, at best, it means that the architect has taken advantage of an extraordinary location to achieve that. In contrast, classical architecture and interior design manage to achieve at least a tolerable (and often very pleasant) surrounding in far less promising places.
(By the way, can you open a window in these ocean-view rooms? In the overwhelming majority of modernist buildings, you can’t do it anywhere at all. Speaking for myself, I’d much prefer to be able to open a window looking towards an entirely mediocre classical landscape than to have unopenable glass separating me from the most spectacular ocean view. The latter, honestly, seems to me no better than a poster on the wall.)
The campus has no shortage of social spaces to hang out in, most with more conventional architecture, yet many choose Geisel. I don’t think anyone thinks of it as “desolate”—I’m pretty sure that’s not the adjective the Trek producers had in mind when they cast it as Starfleet Headquarters in one of the movies. At the top floors of the inverted pyramid, 360 degrees of glass result in a spectacular view… at sunset it’s downright romantic. The stacks up there are a popular place for the undergrads to lose their virginity (or so I’ve heard).
The location alone just gets you a few rooms on one side with a view. Here though, an amazing amount of thought was put into how to lay things out so that everybody gets a view.
I can’t say for sure, as I never worked in that building. But I suspect that they do open—the building across the street from it where I used to work was also brutalist (though much less impressive), and its windows opened.
OK, since I’m writing this on LW after all, I guess it’s time to recognize that I’ve long passed the boundary from rational argument to an impassioned propagandistic defense of my own view in a value- and taste-laden controversy.
I’ve never seen these buildings that you describe, so I can’t make any final judgement about them. It could be that these are indeed some genuine cases of modernist architecture working well, though I still suspect that it’s a matter of having such a spectacularly good space that it’s extremely hard to ruin it even with the ugliest architecture imaginable. (To quote William Whyte, “Given a fine location, it is difficult to design a space that will not attract people. What is remarkable is how often this has been accomplished.”) But, yes, it might be that these buildings are really much better than I though modernism could ever be. (On the other hand, judging by what can be seen on the web, these Salk Institute spaces look pretty damn desolate.)
What I still don’t doubt, though, is that the average practical results of traditional architecture are far better than the average practical results of modernism. This seems to me overwhelmingly obvious from virtually all the examples I can think of, which includes everyday sights from several cities I’ve lived in that feature a mix of both.
These things tend to only be overwhelmingly obvious once one has picked a disputable success measure. Do these different styles cost the same to build, does one allow higher population density than the other, is demographics confounding things in some other way, what about the effects on people who don’t spend time at the places themselves but see the buildings from far away or in pictures?
Well yeah, obviously this entire conversation has been about totally subjective questions of taste. Nothing wrong with that though, as long as no one is fooling themselves into thinking it’s something other than that.
kodos96:
Still, I think that it makes sense to ask whether traditional or modernist architecture on average does a better job creating spaces that will satisfy the subjective tastes of the majority of people, for which the best evidence are people’s revealed preferences and attitudes. In this sense, there is an objective question here after all.