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 
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 campus’s 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 
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 
claim to draw from this Spanish
theme, such as the new dormitories on
To improve upon the university’s 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. Gaudi’s prime focus was to emulate nature
through the dramatic use of parabolic arches and the banishment of straight
lines. “Gaudi didn’t 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
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 mankind’s 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 Plato’s 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 campus’s 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 Baudelaire’s 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, 
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 façade 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 Wright’s 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)