Ashley Powell
Professor Jerome Bump
English 603A
12 October 2006
Finding Oneself through Architecture
How
often are we commanded to Know thy self, as if, upon this awareness, our
lives will be complete, our universes aligned, and everything in the world will
come quicker and easier because we are confident in this awesome knowledge.
Personally, I do not believe it is possible to completely know thy self, as
Professor Bump claims the tower instructs, but I trust that the quest is a
worthy endeavor. Memorizing facts and figures out of standard issue textbooks
in standard issue classrooms will be of no aid to us on this mission of self
discovery. Rather, our goal necessitates careful scrutiny of our own minds and
behaviors, of society, and in particular, of our relationship to our
environment. This perception of our diverse surroundings is what shapes us into
the men and women we will eventually become. . . .the mind includes more than intellect. It contains a
history of what we learn through our feet. It grasps the world that meets the
eye, the city we know with our legs, the places we know in our hearts, in our
guts, in our memories, in our imaginations. It includes the world we feel in
our bones.[1] As humans,
we have been formed by the hands of nature; thus there exists an obvious
touchstone for our introspective journey in the reconnection with our natural
environment. However, we must not forget the modern contributions we, as
innovators and escapists from nature, have made to our world, for their effect
on our being cannot be understated. An ideal campus should be a melting pot of
these modern and natural styles to aid our students personal maturation. As
the most influential University of Texas architect Paul Cret stated, The
modern university has to be, on account of its size a grouping of several
compositions, related to be sure, but independent, and requiring a certain
variety of treatment to avoid the monotony and the institutional character
inherent to the repetition of similar units.[2]
An example of this idea is displayed in the Second Life model, a virtual world
where avatars can tour a three-dimensional model of the proposed plan. Here,
the avatar can find examples of the importance of 
natural,
postmodern/modern, and Spanish inspired architecture coexisting in an effective
learning environment. We should blend these different compositions to form a
campus that will fit students with vastly different tastes and preferences, so
that all may be able to call this campus home. Through the careful integration
of natural, modern, postmodern, and Spanish architectural styles into our
campuss environment, we as designers can construct a University that will
inspire creative thought, combine the innovative with the traditional, and
inspire our multifaceted student body to begin their own journey of self
knowledge.
To achieve our desired blend of styles, we
must first look to our roots for inspiration. The present University of Texas
architecture consists of a foundation of Spanish-Mediterranean architecture
constructed primarily in the first half of the twentieth century under the
original plan of architect Paul Cret. This style forms a rational basis for the
campus design because it reflects the historical background of the state and
suits the climate of the region. The UT Tower represents the focal point of the
campus and exemplifies the peak of the campus current Spanish architectural
theme. A visualization of the tower can be found in the Second Life model of
the 
proposed
campus plan. As the avatar approaches its soaring majesty, one can feel the
presence of the past and its continuing influence in both architecture and
life. Here,The Spanish/Southwestern style. . . arrived at UT in the early
twentieth century with the buildings that now line the south, west
and east malls. The UT Tower. . . picked up on the regional, or at least
climatic and cultural theme.[3]
Our iconic tower will not be dwarfed by new construction, but should remain a
longstanding symbol of the University and its students. In the New Master Plan,
this Spanish motif shall be preserved through integration with a variety of
complementing styles. The importance of our Spanish-Texan history cannot be
understated, yet there is certainly room for architectural improvement to avoid
repetition.
Not only does the use of Spanish
architecture symbolize our past, it also draws heavy stylistic inspiration from
nature, providing a unique connection between that which is manmade and that
which is divinely created. The prevalent use of Spanish-Plateresque
architecture displays a prime example of this idea, as it draws from Moorish,
Gothic, and Italian Renaissance styles to create intricate ornamentation, often
reflecting themes found in nature.[4]
The use of this style stands as a reminder not only of our Texan/Spanish roots,
but travels even further to Spains own history and the cultures that
influenced it. Battle Hall, formerly the Education 
Building,
is a prime example of this Spanish Plateresque style and the beauty it bestows
upon the campus. A distinctive feature can be seen as the plateresque ribs
became round arches and webs approaching domical vaults.[5]
In this example, the Gothic ribs transform into the dome and circular features
characteristic of the Renaissance, creating a unique synthesis that is
characteristic of Plateresque architecture. This ornate style should be
implemented further in the remaining Spanish style buildings on campus. Many of
the newest buildings that 
claim
to draw from this Spanish theme, such as the new dormitories on Whitis and Twenty-seventh
Street, lack originality and seem to exhibit a cheap boxy modernism with a
Spanish faade. This unadorned, bulky structure seems to have been designed
with the intention of remaining true to the original Spanish roots that are characteristic
of Battle and Sutton Halls, but failed in acquiring the soul and creativity
present in these classic buildings. The original Battle and Sutton Halls
prolific use of naturalistic ornamentation, variety of color, and structured
overhangs has been perverted into the overuse of bland, budget Mediterranean
structure found in the newer buildings. The blank brick walls of the new dorm
and its empty, unembellished windows stare soullessly upon the passing
students, teaching them nothing except the limits of budget and functionality.
To improve upon the universitys unappealing new Spanish structures, we can find inspiration in the work of the Spanish innovator Antonio Gaudi.
The contribution of
Plateresque to the whole course of
Spanish architecture is immeasurable.
. . its spirit is evident in Spanish
architecture at its creative peak as seen,
for example, in Spanish Baroque, the work
of Antonio 
Gaudi.
. . .[6]
His wildly imaginative structures would fantastically complement the campus' Spanish foundations and provide a fresh breath of much needed imagination and creativity. Gaudis prime focus was to emulate nature through the dramatic use of parabolic arches and the banishment of straight lines. Gaudi didnt believe straight lines existed in nature and thus were not divine creations. . . .[7] His architecture conveys a constant sense of motion,[8] allowing structures to flow and meld with their surroundings. This looseness of structure teaches students to employ creative thinking in a search for answers beyond those found in the conventional classroom. However, overuse of these wild structures may create a sense of chaos within the campus. A campus overrun with Gaudi-esque buildings has the potential to be overwhelming to the senses. To prevent this, a careful balance must be achieved, with the strategic placement of such unique buildings in the midst of other styles to create contrast and break up the monotony of the numerous Spanish structures.
In
a quest for self knowledge, the impact of nature on our minds and bodies cannot
be underestimated. We are children of Eden, sprung from the earth and to the
earth we shall eventually return. By immersing our campus architecture in that
which is wild, natural, and divine, we allow students to recognize this truth
and the meaning it has in their lives. While touring the virtual Second Life campus, one must note
the emphasis of landscaping and natural space. This use of foliage allows the
buildings to ease into their surroundings rather than stand as harsh reminders of
mans awkward attempts at beauty and harmony. As times have progressed, our
campus seems to have become flooded with parking lots and roadways. I certainly
realize how impractical it would be to abolish such modern necessities, but a
careful review of certain areas must be considered. Many, if not all, of the
roadways should remain; however, parking should be limited to certain areas on
the outskirts of campus to prevent distraction from the natural landscape of
the university. Within campus, pick up/drop off areas should be strictly
enforced, and the old lots should be transformed into grassy knolls, gardens,
and outdoor classrooms.
Frederick Law Olmsted, landscape architect for the University of Virginia, described these outdoor spaces as of no less importance[9] than the buildings and interiors. John Dougill even goes as far to say that in reference to Oxford, the source of wisdom is posited not in the university as such but in the surrounding countryside.[10] Our natural instinct is to view the world as it was originally intended—the unspoiled Eden, free from the distracting clutter and disarray of our own modern buildings. This proposed combination of miniature gardens and open areas with our new architecture attempts to pacify this desire, creating a sense of harmony within our campus community. Landscape architects and gardeners, and we who enjoy their creations without special instruction or persuasion, are responding to a deep genetic memory of mankinds optimal environment.[11]
To expand upon this integration of nature into
collegiate education, I propose the construction of open air classrooms or
forums within these gardens to allow classes the chance to immerse themselves
in their natural environment, where they can be untouched by the outside world
of pointless struggle.[12]
An example of this can be found in the Second Life campus model, where a
soothing waterfall acts as the backdrop to a flower-walled outdoor courtyard. 
Here,
students may gather to study, interact, spend time in personal reflection, or
be taught by distinguished professors in a refreshing new environment. These
gardens can be made private by hedges or trellises, similar to the European
style courtyards used widely at Oxford College, or be constructed similar to
smaller scale Greek amphitheaters. Such environments are incredibly conducive to
discussion and free thinking and are especially effective in the liberal arts
disciplines. What better way for our students to discover their selves and
their history than to learn and discuss in an environment similar to that of
the birthplace of Western philosophy? It should be noted that Platos Academy,
one of the original schools of modern thought, was originally a public garden
in an Athenian suburb. These outdoor classrooms, as well as the gardens and
open areas, illustrate a vital part of any architectural plan, for a
relationship with nature expresses not only a deep need to make a world the
way the world was made, but also the need to make a piece of the real world in which
one lives with others.[13]
This is the real world, unadulterated by the scars of human progress, which one
must recognize for any progression of self discovery.
Despite our primal need for naturalism, we cannot deny that the effects of our own industrial progression confront us at every turn. This gradual humanization of our structures, this mechanization of nature, is something one must acknowledge to fully know thy self. Why do we desire this abandonment of the traditional and how does it appeal to us? By incorporating into our architectural melting pot several well-thought-out, modernist style buildings, we can facilitate this type of abstract thinking about the nature of our society and its recent industrial and artistic trends. However, we should not forget that the focus of our campus rests upon harmonization with the environment, not these singular modernist examples.
At present, the campuss modern architecture
reflects a wide array of tastes, both good and bad. The Harry Ransom Center
exemplifies the good; use of a wide range of building materials provides the
'floating box' with a distinctive character. A sense of contrast can be noticed
not only between the modern building and its natural surroundings, but also in
the various materials as they cooperate with each other to create a 
harmonious
structure. Subtle adornment, such as the wall of ghosts and lush surrounding
greenery, add to the appeal of this modern building. The most distinctive and
aesthetically pleasing characteristic of the HRC can be found in the use of
glass for significant portions of the first floor wall. This glass presents a
contrast to the heaviness of the large concrete and limestone blocks. It
is the very opposite to heavy stone and opaque brick. Light streamed
through it, the light of heaven itself. . . . Glass forms, crystalline and
suggestive of weightlessness, seemed to be the stuff of transcendence.[14]
The Ransom Center provides a prime instance where modernity meets beauty, where
we may have escaped nature, but in doing so entered a new realm of future
possibilities. To return to an earlier, perhaps premature definition for
modernity from Charles Baudelaire, as an exaltation of the ephemeral, the
fugitive, the contingent, the half of art whose other half is the eternal and
the immutable,[15] should be
our primary goal.
As we attempt to successfully integrate
modern architecture into our campus, we must avoid at all costs the cheapening
of Baudelaires ideal, which has recently become so common. In our era of strip
malls and high-rises, we often disregard the importance of aesthetics over
practicality in functional architecture. The latter half of the twentieth
century has regarded the modernist style as the singular trend, with entire
urban areas being constructed under this unnatural motif. The overuse of
modernism suggests too much solidity: think of how the 
innumerable
descendants and clones of Mies vand der Rohe created, in their high bland
cliffs of steel and glass, the face of American corporate capitalism.[16]
There are too many poorly planned copies, too many boring attempts at imitation
of what was once innovative. On our present campus, Jester Center and the
engineering buildings—Robert Lee Moore Building, Ernest J. Cockrell
Building, and their similar counterparts, stand as glaring evidence to this
fact. These monstrosities lack of visual appeal and creativity is a stain on
our campus architectural fabric, and my recommendation is to demolish them
completely. In regard to the engineering department, I agree with the
appropriateness of a modern style to house such 
disciplines
that forward technological advancement, but these gargantuan prisons of bland
brown brick punish the eye, making it far more difficult for a student to be
able to feel at home in such a setting. These buildings exhibit modernist
faults; they do nothing to remind us of our natural roots, nor do they inspire
us to transcend nature and look into the vast possibility of future human
innovation. These poor modern examples lacked mystery and emotion, [were] a
little too frank about the limits of human nature and never prepared us for our
eventual end.[17] The
replacement of these inadequate attempts at modernism with more stimulating
structures will motivate students to consider the possibilities available
through escaping nature and will create balance with the primarily natural
styles in our architectural blend.
To
achieve this desired balance, we should implement more creative modernism or
postmodernism that will inspire forward thinking and bring a more contemporary
element to the many historically stylized buildings. We must do away with the
heaviness that clouds the engineering department and Jester and bring a
lightness to the campus modern structures. However, if this lightness is
unattainable in some circumstances or deemed inappropriate, we may look to more
abstract styles to suit our purposes. Centre Georges Pompidou in Paris
exemplifies the postmodern-Brutalist style of the willful avoidance of polish
and elegance. . . exposing such structural elements as
steel beams and pre-cast concrete slabs to convey a stark, austere
rectilinearity.[18]
With its web of colorful exterior pipes, its wild faade that could aid
students in connecting what they learn in the classroom to an industrial context.
The Brutalism displayed at the Pompidou can be encompassed in the Postmodern
movement, as it evolved from the modernist movement, and [combined] new
ideas with traditional forms.[19]
By placing the maze of pipes on the exterior rather than the interior of this
unique building in the midst of a traditional Parisian Centre, this abstraction
of the traditional museum provides an integration of what is immediately
industrial and relevant to our society with that which the builders of the past
have left behind for us to learn from. This enables educators to use their
environment as a learning tool, as the material being taught can be directly
related to that particular setting. By effectively incorporating both modern
and postmodern into our campus mixture, we can keep our architecture in tune
with contemporary trends and ideals, paving the way for innovative, abstract
thought. By looking at what we as a society have created without regard to our
natural tendencies, we are able to take one step further into looking into
ourselves.
When
incorporating these modern and postmodern elements into our campus, we must be
careful to prevent any glaring discord with the environment or the other
architectural styles. By successfully incorporating these vastly different
styles, we can discover the contrast and interaction between what we as humans
have created on our own with that which has been created naturally by the
divine. Frank Lloyd Wright illustrated this interplay in his masterpiece,
Fallingwater:
It is a supreme example of Frank Lloyd
Wrights concept of organic architecture, which promotes harmony between man
and nature through design so well integrated with its site that buildings, furnishings,
and surroundings become part of a unified, interrelated composition.[20]
This
unification should be our primary goal in the new campus design. An interactive
example can be found in the Second Life model. As the avatar circles the
building with its varying colors, textures, and materials, one begins to notice
how the structure begins to merge with its environment—the sky, the
water, and the surrounding foliage. We must look to Wright as a pioneer in this
technique of synthesizing human life, architectural form, and nature[21]
without abandoning modern style. Through the recognition of this unity,
students can learn how they relate to such entities, allowing them to progress
on their paths toward self discovery.
By
carefully integrating both natural and modernist styles into the a New Master
Plan for the university campus, we shall create an unique environment that
incorporates modern and traditional thought in buildings that teach the student
to know thy self. In the words of former president Robert M. Berdahl in his
essay Regaining a Sense of Community, A campus, which serves as a village
where people live and study for four or five years, where some people may work
all their lives and where still others return regularly to participate in the
life of the community, can be an important anchor point for personal identity.
Places become part of who we are and how we define ourselves.[22]
We must strive to strengthen this anchor point, to create a diverse yet unified
environment where a student can reach that pivotal point of maturation where he
or she will decide how to define him or herself as adulthood quickly
approaches. We must build buildings that teach about our history, but not be
constrained by the past. We must respect the traditional, but not be afraid of
the contemporary. We must bow to our innate tendency to harmonize with nature,
but not fear a break with tradition. By uniting human life, architectural 
form,
and nature,[23] we as
designers shall construct a campus where a student will not only learn to
know thyself, but also where they will find that the time spent at this
university will engender a sense of purpose and passion to be taken with them
as they enter post-collegiate society. In creating a mixture of predominantly Spanish/Plateresque
styles, well-thought-out modernist structures, and vital natural landscaping,
we shall construct a university where each one of our unique students will be
able to find a place that enables them to look inward.
Word Count: 3,365
(515 words added)