So, Nashville, TN. I stopped off to see the "exact replica" of the Parthenon. First of all it's not an exact replica. And I'm not being a smart alack and thinking they were going to build it as a ruin. That's not it. First of all, the Parthenon is marble, while Nashville's is concrete. The Parthenon also doesn't have a single straight line. It was a trick the Greeks played with. When we look at an object straight-on optical perspective warps the edges. So the Greeks corrected that warping by counter-warping the building, so when we look at it the building it looks straight. Not to mention that the Greek Parthenon was painted. Et ceter, et cetera, and other pointless details, et cetera. Needless to say, I was greatly disappointed. Why even build it? (I know it was meant to be demolished after the Centennial Expo and the residents liked it so much they tore down the wood and plaster structure and rebuilt it in concrete... so the question should have been: why did they keep it? I suppose follies are that important to us).
Why was I disappointed? Because the Greek temple was a sort of apotheosis, a slow process of perfection for the Greek culture, in which the Parthenon is essentially the pinnacle of that perfection of tradition (the Ancient Greeks weren't big on innovation, just slow modifications). But that tradition and culture has long been dead, and the Parthenon today is an emblem of that dead culture. If anything the Greek Parthenon is more perfect now than it was 2000 years ago, and as it slowly falls apart it gets closer and closer to perfection. The Parthenon belongs with the culture that built it, and if that tradition of perfection is long gone, should it not follow its tradition (I'm playing word games here). I don't know who said it, but someone once said that the Parthenon will finally be perfect when it is completely gone. The Nashville Parthenon is a mockery of that tradition. The Nashville Parthenon would have been perfect had it never have been built.
Next, Kansas City, MO. Kansas City... wow. Just wow. I guess with great expectations come great disappointment, and with little expectations come great surprise. I thought I was going to be visiting a farmer's metropolis with a Steven Holl building. And when I got there I was blown away by the city as a whole. First I visited Frank Lloyd Wright's Community Christian Center, which, at first sight, I thought the GPS took me to the wrong place. But I went into the building to ask where right's building was and realized I was at the Wright place. How did I know? The ceilings were about 6'-4" tall. Wright usually designed his buildings from his point of view, which was about 5'-3" from the ground (he was short). Aside from it being a Depression building, the whole thing was very "modest," and that's being nice to Wright. The plan is very Wrightian, but if you're looking for his immaculate detailing, stain-glass, and custom everything... this building isn't it. Admittedly he did leave the project before it was done due to budget and the fact that he couldn't get his way (which was a very rong to do). Essentially, every last thing in the building got covered in spray concrete and painted Wright. (I'm done with the puns now).
Then I went to Steven Holl's Nelson-Atkin's Museum, which was closed. Not much to say aesthetics-wise, except that the building looks like a strange grouping of glass shipping containers (just like it does in pictures). I didn't stick around to see it at night (which is apparently very beautiful), but just from wandering around it and getting a sunburn I have to admit that Holl owned every moment in that building. It's not just some mindless form. He considered every little thing, and it's evident. Even down to the directionality of the wood boards used to cast the concrete walls on the side of the building (even playful little holes that are not formwork tie-holes). If only I could have gone inside. I did talk to a security guard, and he told me that most of the curators and the public think it is a well done museum and serves its purpose well, while being aesthetically interesting... which is saying a lot, considering Simmon's Hall at MIT is very disappointing).
I also saw Moshe Safdie's Kauffman Performing Arts Center, which was very monumental (typical for Moshe), but little more than an exercise in iconic, sustainable formalism. Oh, and I saw SOM's Landmark Tower, which is like every other SOM building (i.e. you don't know why they're a famous firm); and HOK's Sprint Center, which was cool from a distance, but not much up close. There was a bunch of other stuff I didn't have time to run all over the city to find, such as Helmut Jahn's Kemper Center, McKim Mead and White's New York Life Insurance Building, Boley Clothing Company, et cetera.
But the last one I saw was purely by accident: Gunner Birkerts' Kemper Museum of Contemporary Art. It's Wright up the street from right's church (sorry). I was trying to find Holl's museum and I happened across Birkerts' museum. It looked interesting enough, so I thought I would stop and take a few pictures. It seemed formal (as in playing with form and no other thoughts behind the form than just making something look cool). But a few things caught my eye that led me to see it as more than that. The roof's form is intriguing, but very deliberate. The corners are beautifully handled. But... BUT the interior is something else. I thought I would stop on in and see what the inside was like. I have never seen anything like it. I can't describe it. Spatially the galleries were just the right size, just the right shapes, and every last detail was owned. Birkerts owned those details. The lobby and it's little polyhedral skylight is magnificent. Then I find out that Birkerts is a little-to-do architect in Detroit, and he has done a handful of iconic works, and the rest is just work. The Kemper Museum made Kansas City worth stopping in, and that is saying a lot considering it was up against Wright, Holl, Safdie, HOK, and SOM.
Overall this road trip has been an experience with high expectations meeting great disappointments, and low expectations meeting splendid surprises. I'm used to seeing the Rockies, and I haven't seen the Appalachians in about nine years. I forgot how wonderful the Appalachians are. They are, in my mind, the icon of mountain. Not huge, rocky, and sculptural. They are as if God took his time to make every last gentle curve work out just right. The Rockies look like God just dumped a bunch of rocks on the ground. Also, Kansas. I kept being told Kansas is flat and boring. I love Kansas! Just endless fields of wheat or corn or pasture as far as the eye can see! Kansas is now what I think of when I think of the word "vast." Mountains are objective and finite. Kansas is infinite and subjective. I could look out at those fields forever from my motel room (I could also look at a mountain forever, but whatever).
There is no point here. No big ideas or philosophy. I just wanted to say a thing or two about my cross-country road trip I have wanted to take for eight years. Now to finish the other half at some point...
Gunner Birkerts' Museum of Contemporary Art:
No comments:
Post a Comment