Diaries from Detroit, vol. 3: Working in a Masterpiece

My internship in Detroit is proving to be just about perfect. With my musical soul thriving, the architect in me is jumping for joy. We hold the Summer Day Camp in Metropolitan UMC, which is a remarkable Neo-Gothic structure in fantastic condition-- and I have the run of the place. Its like a dream come true.

The building is massive. It has a full-size gymnasium, a kitchen and dining room that can feed about 150, a grand parlor (furnished in the original 1920s decor) with two fireplaces, a library, a chapel, an auditorium that seats 1500, a sanctuary that seats about 3000, classrooms and offices to boot, and beautiful vaulted stone corridors with hand-painted plaster walls. The 2nd Floor Corridor has niches in which three murals are painted with scenes integral to the creation of the Methodist Church- "The Dawn of the Reformation," "John Wesley Preaching on His Father's Tomb," and "Francis Asbury, Apostle of the Long Trail," all by artist George Boget.

The South Stairs are contained within the South Tower of the church, situated in the back left corner of the sanctuary. They lead to the small chapel on the second floor, a suite and balcony access on the third floor, and then the tower above. I had a chance to explore the tower the other day with the master key. On the first floor of the tower is a radio broadcast room (long since disused) and the "Buffalo Room." I unlocked the door to the mysterious room and found an incredible double-height room with detailed wood paneling and a full height brick fireplace on which is mounted the head of a buffalo. Above the entrance on the second floor is a balcony looking into the room. All windows are clerestory, so light pours in from above. The room is now used for storage and is slightly eerie. I walked through to the opposite corner and found another door. I slowly opened it and flicked on the light switch to find the attic space between the gothic-vaulted ceiling of the sanctuary and the steel truss and concrete roof over the church. I followed a stair case built directly on the vaulted roof. I was so impressed to discover that it was a true stone vault- not plaster suspended from a steel structure. It was an honest Gothic structure, only replacing traditional wooden trusses with steel (likely a reaction to the fire that destroyed the congregation's previous home in 1916). I climbed out of there and continued up the stairs in the tower-- now a small, winding steel structure between massive stone walls. On the next level is a door leading to the room that overlooks the Buffalo Room. This room also has a door to an outdoor balcony in the tower-- unfortunately I did not have a key for that. One more flight up, and a door to the bell loft and another large classroom that covers the rest of the tower not used by the bell loft. Two more flights up from there and there is a door to the tower's roof-- if only I had the key I'm sure I would discover a 360 view of Detroit.

I have been fascinated by this building and am trying to share my enthusiasm with the children. I created a scavenger hunt for them to find the hidden symbols worked into the paintings, tiles, and woodwork of the walls, ceiling, floor, and furniture. I feel like every day I discover something new about this building. I have never been so excited to go to work every day just to see the place its in. In my enthusiasm, one of the older church ladies gave me a copy of a commemorative book that was given out to the congregation at the building's completion in 1926. In it is a beautiful description of the building that I'd like to share:

Beauty of line, ruggedness, and practical interior arrangements designed to yield a maximum of service in the religious, educational and community work of the church, are combined in the architecture of the Metropolitan edifice.

Its plain but impressive exterior follows the modern English Gothic style. Its deep-set walls of granite are built to stand through centuries. The interior, restful to the eye and the spirit, is laid out to meet effectively every demand made by the widespread activities of the modern city church.

A member of the congregation, Mr. W.E.N. Hunter, is the architect...

Set in the ample grounds, a whole city block in width, the massive walls, buttressed and towered, are of ashlar granite, from quarries near Plymouth, Mass. There the stratification of the rock runs perpendicularly, and the varied coloration has been carried downward into the fiber of the stone by centuries of seepage to the crevices. The stone blocks, of many dimensions and shades-- 52,000 in number, have been laid so as to give ever-changing variety of color.

Grey Ohio sandstone forms the facing and trimming on the deeply recessed doorways and windows. Within, the floors of corridors and the stair treads are of differently colored tile; the floors of aisles in the church and chapel are of slate with insets of tile in traditional or symbolic designs.

The church is without wood or timber or other inflammable material in its construction. Wooden floors are laid in the recreation room and in some of the social rooms, biut these are based on an underflooring of concrete.

From deep concrete foundations the building rises to a height of nine ordinary stories. A fire might rage through the pile, consume furniture, papers, books, and melt some of the metal in the roof and pipes, but it would leave the structure itself, the concrete, the girders, the steel lath, and the slate, intact.

The external mass of the pile, all walls and concrete, centers in the great tower on the south, rising 105 feet, but so massively constructed and so resting on the broader masses beneath that the height is not immediately sensed.

The tower is 40 by 40 feet, there is space for the installation of a carillon-- 45 bells. Yet the tower is not merely a belfry, or a colossal ornamentation. The stories below the belfry are fitted up as classrooms.

Thus throughout the whole construction, the dignity of architectural tradition is maintained while the ends of modern usefulness are faithfully served...

This church was the largest Methodist Church in the world in the 1930s and 40s. Its congregation steeply declined after the Detroit riots of the 1970s, but despite that and the recent depression, the church still thrives with a good size congregation that mixes a range of classes and races. I'm sure I will blog more about it as I learn, discover, and explore more of it.

More pictures can be found in my flickr set for Metro UMC.

Seven Bottles of Light in a Stone Box

Ever since his lecture at Pratt Institute in February of this year, I've been fascinated by architect Steven Holl. Coincidentally, he designed the recently completed connection of Higgins Hall Center, part of Pratt's School of Architecture.

Holl is not one of these modern architects who finds a need to rationalize architecture through modern technology. I acknowledge my naiveté in this field, but all of these architects like Brett Steele (chair of the Architectural Association in London) that look to the internet and the massive interconnected networks of the 21st century as some sort of basis for the future of architecture drive me crazy. It is not even a case of the human element being lost in this process, for it isn't even there to begin with. There is not attention to or care for form, and is that not where all architecture is "doomed" to end up, intentional or not? Yet an overarching notion is that none of these projects are intended to even be completed. This architecture that lacks a human purpose and element disturbs me, despite its intentional efforts as experimentation.

But Steven Holl is different. He is an artist-- but an artist in a way that is very much architecturally minded. He paints, but painting is not separate from architecture for him. His projects reflect this artistic approach, as they play with forms and are routed in concepts based on human interaction and physical realities. If there were any overarching guide to his architecture, it would be the constant play of light. Many architects speak of the prominent importance of light in architecture, yet Holl is more deliberate and successful in its use and exploitation than any other I have studied. Case in point is his project at the Seattle University, the Jesuit Chapel. It is without a doubt my favorite piece of architecture of modern times.

The Chapel of St. Ignatius is based on a very simple concept-- "seven bottles of light in a stone box." This water color painting became the concept and basis for the entire project:

These bottles of light function as both beacons of light in seven directions at night, as well as nets which capture multiple types and colors of light throughout the day. The entire project surrounds Jesuit principles of spirituality. As such, the multiple sources of light emphasize the Jesuit idea that "different methods [of spiritual exercises] helped different people" (Steven Holl).

A further play of light is that although light is admitted from all directions, there are no views out. The enclosed space creates an incredibly meditative experience as the shifting light and colors (created from colored baffles behind each "bottle") change throughout the day.

This piece of architecture is intimately connected and geared to the human experience of space. Its concept is a concept of form, and its program is derived from its intent and human flow through space. Similarly, the implementation and usage of light is derived from its purpose and inhabitants. This project, to me, is the essence of what a modern architectural project should be. Perhaps it is an age-old idea for architecture; yet I believe it has the ability to be, and is in fact only effective when, molded and shaped for its contemporary context.

Quotes and images from www.stevenholl.com

Cash for Architecture

My first "real" architecture project is finished-- not one defined by a professor or done for a grade-- but a project for a client that finishes with a paycheck. I found it pretty exciting, and thought I'd share. A project for an expansion of a backyard porch:

A Lecture from one of the Greats

Yesterday, I had the great fortune of being able to see a lecture by the great contemporary architect Santiago Calatrava at my school, Pratt Institute. There was a real excitement in the air leading up to this event, which had been moved to a larger auditorium than the one usually used for these events. For a bunch of architecture students, this was like seeing a rock star.

The lecture itself perhaps was not as in-depth or as theory-based as some that we often hear, yet there was something memorable about it. The microphone was not working very well, and Mr. Calatrava's heavy accent made it difficult to hear what he was saying. Nevertheless, we all got the gist of what he was saying-- which was to let the architecture speak for itself. Highly different from most lectures on architecture, it was nearly meditative. The room-- packed solid-- was dead quiet, and his calm Spanish accent spoke softly over incredible images of his ephemeral work. It was an incredible evening to be inspired by the work; just the work speaking for itself.

The rock star mentality really surfaced afterwards, catching up with friends of mine who had Mr. Calatrava visit their studio, talk about their work, give them autographs, and take a few photos with them. One girl got a pat on the shoulder... that shirt is getting framed. Others got sketchbooks signed. ...And the rest of us got crazy jealous.

Its funny what rock stars are at architecture school.

Architecture+Lifestyle

Here's a great article from the NYTimes from 2008. I read it a while ago, and recently rediscovered it. Its about a beautiful piece of architecture that I think is at once vernacular and contemporary. One of the most interesting ideas is that it was almost entirely designed around the idea of making every window a picture window. http://www.nytimes.com/2008/08/07/garden/07clingstone.html

The next idea I love about this is the way in which, after decades of neglect, it was revitalized and how it is still kept up. The owners hold work weekends, where they brings friends and workers (who become friends) who are willing to give a little hard labor in return for rest and relaxation. No cash transaction involved. Its friends helping out friends, in return for friendship.

Now isn't that what being human is all about?

Room with a View

Who knew garage doors could be so cool?

http://www.brucebolander.com/rpsnew/index.html