I just returned from a family reunion in CT. While my mind was blown away by many things out there, per the subject matter of this journal, I will focus on the architecture.
First off, my Great Great Aunt's (from here on out referred to as GGA) estate is absolutely beautiful for numerous reasons, but one of the particular wonderful treasures is her private gallery and storage house, designed by the one and only Stephen Learner. The gallery, known as the Granary (a quick Google search will reveal who my GGA is), houses one of the top contemporary art collections in the world. The building, to me, feels like an excellent exercise in critical regionalism - something I wouldn't necessarily have thought Learner to be a practitioner of. While modern and elegant, the rustic nature of both the stone panels facade housing the main gallery space and the stained cedar volume, housing the upper gallery, blend beautifully into an understanding of New England materials (perhaps not methods, but that is the beauty of it all). And I love grey when it isn't concrete.
The space underneath the galleries features a beautiful storage area of movable panels, with her major works all hung and RFID'd. The panels slide easily in and out and are hung on both sides. The building also features some modern essentials like a geothermal system - this of course probably helps with the excessive environmental controls needed for such a exquisite art collection.
It was on the tour that I discovered just the kind of people my GGA rubs elbows with. Names like Renzo Piano, Craig Dykers (Snohetta), and Jasper Johns are among that list. Oy veh.
The majority of th weekend was spent connecting with family that I had never met, which was absolutely wonderful, but I did make my pilgrimage to a few other buildings of renown, since I was in the area. Of course, they all just happened to be on Yale's campus.
First on the sacred trail was the Rudolph Building, better known as Paul Rudoph's Art and Architecture Building. I don't know why, but I love Brutalism. And this building is a great example of it. My younger brother described it pretty well, I think: "I'm architecture and I am here." There is no attempt toward subtlety, it is proclamation in mass, material, and function. You know what is circulation, what isn't, what is structure, and what is show. However, I'd have to say that visiting the structure in person revealed something I didn't expect but that I now cannot help but see in all the pictures of the building - and that is its resemblance to every architecture student's first love: Sant' Elia-esque Futurism. Ah... if only the world could really be that way. But that would require too socialist a society. Bleh.
Unfortunately, most of the buildings were closed since we were visiting New Haven on a Sunday... and I'm still not sure when Yale starts classes anyway. Not that we had time for too much exploration. But the locked buildings made the next visit a little less exciting (though it was still great to see).
Next on the agenda was something my comp. studio professor had me investigate (though I do remember reference to it in some of my Sci-Tech courses in terms of materiality) for its elegant articulation of its structural details, and that of course is a lovely building by Gordon Bunschaft of SOM known as the Beineke rare book library.
This building is great in a number of respects. Not only are the corners beautifully articulated from large concrete piers to these small steel hats and saddles (an elegant illustration of the different capabilities of concrete and steel), but the marble exterior blends with the surrounding campus in an interesting way. Of course, the buildings greatest claim to fame (outside of its amazing rare book/manuscript collection), is the glowing interior. The marble panels are thin enough to actually allow an orange light through to the interior on a sunny day (Google it, it is awesome), providing some natural light to a windowless building. And a good thing that it is windowless - you wouldn't want direct sun shining onto an original copy of the Gutenburg Bible. Those folks at SOM have some knowledge goin' on.
The picture to the left is one of my faves, illustrating the contrast that exists on Yale's campus. The new, the old, and the connections in between. I love this building, though I would've loved to go inside.
Last on the Yale journey (but definitely not least), was another building introduced in Sci-Tech but further investigated in comp. studio. This guy really knew elegance - and structure as it turns out.
Eero Saarinen's Ingall's Auditorium illustrates how long span structure really defines the form of a building. Of course Saarinen handles it beautifully, accents it even with a flourish at the entry. Again, of course, this space wasn't open. But peering through the glass I was amazed at how intimate the space seemed. The score console was down on the ground, probably for repairs of something of the sort.
If you find yourself lucky enough to be visiting Yale's campus, make sure you visit Campus Customs and get yourself a "Yale Department of Architecture" shirt. It raised several eyebrows, and the woman sitting next to me on the flight back to Minneapolis, (who, herself, was from New Haven), asked if I was a Yale student. I replied "I wish." Suddenly the Avenue Q song "I Wish I Could Go Back to College" popped into my head. If only money wasn't such an issue.