The Impact of Collegiate Architecture

Upon my arrival at the University of Texas at Austin, I found myself confronted with various conflicting feelings: excitement, utter dead; anxiety, feverishness. I was not sure what to think of my new home. After living in the same room in Fort Worth for eighteen years, I even doubted my ability to call somewhere else home. Being an only child, I had never shared a room or bathroom before; I'd never needed to compete for shower time, nor had I ever interrupted someone else's work by turning the bedroom light off. I spent the first two nights in my dorm room alone, worrying about my future roommate and the rest of the new chapter in my life. For the first two weeks of college, I believed I had made the incorrect college decision; I thought I needed to drive straight home up I-35, don as much purple as I could get my hands on, and call myself a horned frog.

As I found my way to my classes, found different routes across campus to the gym and the Drag, the feeling of displacement slowly diminished. The only successful method of combating my loneliness on campus was to truly "plunge in [and] spend time there" (285).

My new strategy took me from Scottish Rite dormitory on 27th to the controvertial Blanton Museum behind Jester on MLK Jr. Contrary to some people, I found the homogeny (for the most part) among the Cret-era campus buildings comforting. I enjoy Spanish Renaissance architecture as much as I do the Gothic; I just shy away from modernism in all its forms. When I toured England in the 9th grade on a church handbell choir trip, we visited the Cathedral in Coventry. The accidental victim of Nazi firebombing, the original Gothic cathedral stands in ruins. Only the exterior walls and a few columns in the sanctuary remain. However, Coventry rebuilt the Cathedral in the modernist style after World War II. To be curt, I hated it. Perhaps it is thus good for me that the University of Texas has not accepted modernism in its architecture as willingly as other "sacred" places. When I visited Harvard and Princeton, although I liked the architecture, I felt like the buildings meant nothing to me; they had no connection to my heritage. Yet I also knew that I needed a campus with similarity among its buildings, which I discovered upon visiting Boston University and detesting its appearance and layout.

The campus plan for the University of Texas has given me a glimmer of light in my lonely first few weeks here. Contrary to Rachel's opinion, the Spanish style does not remind me of cracking tile and hot desert, but rather of the crisp Mediterranean breeze and warming Spanish sun. Let's face it: we live in Texas, it's going to be damn hot whether we like it or not. Perhaps we should count ourselves fortunate that the University's designers added little things like overhangs on buildings and extra trees for shade. The Spanish style also suits our history more than the Gothic style necessarily fits Rice. Sudjuic argues that architecture can be "how a society understands its past and its values" (430). Furthermore, I feel the Spanish style, and especially the use of shells, accurately gives off that vibe of the college campus being a place of pilgrimage, maturation, and the "unending quest for knowledge" (433).

I think that the campus plan in the future should continue along the lines of Cret's use of Spanish Renaissance style in architecture and use of open spaces in landscaping. I wish that the McComb's School of Business, where I will have many of my future classes, followed Cret's designs with the red tile, limestone, and golden bricks. I fear that the buildings I love the most I will never have the opportunity to conduct class in or frequent. The use of one architectural style campus-wide will contribute to a great senese of atmosphere that will not change as a student passes from one mall to another. Open spaces like our own acroplis beneath the tower make me feel that my imagination and creativity can run as free as my physical self can in these unrestricted areas.

I have come to this university to learn and grow as a person, therefore I am thankful that I have the opportunity to be a part of a close-knit community like Plan II and take part in our own version of University 101. However, I have also come here to be part of a rich heritage and tradition that encompasses the University of Texas at Austin. From the influnece of the Spanish on the campus architecture, to the influence of "Texas Fight!" at the football games, the University of Texas has a fine reputation and legacy for tradition and excellence I am proud to be a part of. Although I did not initially feel this way only one month ago - and I am still learning to gratefully accept my current position - walking across campus or reading on the South Mall is helping me to gain sense of place and of unity.