Beauty in eye of beholder when it comes to buildings

When people find out that I am an architect, they usually offer up one of two comments. Some say something like "I was going to be an architect, but ... " or "I've always thought architecture would be a fascinating profession." The others say "Why don't we build beautiful buildings like we used to?"

Maybe I'll respond to the first group in a future article, but for now I would like to concentrate on the second group's inquiry.

The beautiful buildings that are being referred to are usually those buildings built before circa 1940. People seem to identify with buildings that express themselves through careful detailing and craftsmanship, and an attention to quality, long-lasting materials.

In this country, these buildings are usually neoclassical or neo-gothic or neo-something. They are nostalgic buildings that recall earlier times when many of the details that were replicated had some structural or functional importance.

In the regurgitated versions, many of these details were reduced to mere decoration. However, these buildings were constructed by a team of people, each with their own skills in design, management or craftsmanship. The team was committed to contributing its own expertise toward the success of the project.

It is interesting to note that the modern movement began about 20 years earlier. Designers such as Walter Gropius, Le Corbusier, Charles Rene Macintosh and others around the world were making new forms and breaking the rules for designing houses, public buildings, furniture and objects. They were also committed to detailing and craftsmanship, and using quality long-lasting materials, but the construction process began to change.

Designers concentrated on searching for ways to build that took advantage of a relatively new building material steel and relatively new methods of mass production. And they were interested in using existing and new building materials in new ways. These investigations led to taller buildings, more glass and highly ordered buildings with open plans.

Unnecessary decoration was eliminated in favor of structural expression and more inexpensive construction. The team members involved in the construction process began to diverge. Collaboration seemed to wane, and the team members became more interested in their own successes rather that the success of the project.

For some reason, the modernist ideals have failed to generate as much enthusiasm among anyone but an elite few that could afford this avant-garde thinking. Maybe it is because there is so much risk involved in trying new ideas. Maybe it is because good modern design, like good meringue, is so simple that it is difficult to make and easy to ruin. Or, maybe it just lacks the nostalgia that, for some reason, people crave.

Well, times appear to be changing. The modern aesthetic of minimalist detailing and expressive forms that match the utility of an object is gaining acceptance. With its increased popularity in such retail outlets as Target and IKEA, modernism is reaching the masses.

Certainly one of the most popular designers alive today, Michael Graves, has been commissioned by Target to design an entire line of housewares. I've purchased a few objects myself, even though I'm not a big fan of Graves' work. I just couldn't resist the opportunity to purchase world-class modern design for an affordable price in Springfield.

And thanks to cable television networks like TLC, The Discovery Channel and A&E, architects Frank Gehry, Richard Meier and I.M. Pei are becoming household names. And it seems that the construction process, for these modern masters, has come full circle. Collaboration is once again the preferred method for achieving a successful project.

You may not realize it, but Springfield has some great examples of modern architecture scattered around town. Parkview High School was designed by one of the founding fathers of modern architecture in Springfield, Richard Stahl, FAIA, and in 1957 was awarded a national award for design excellence. Other great works include the Meisian steel-and-glass Empire Bank drive-through facility on South Glenstone and the suspended folded-plate canopy of Osco Drug Store. It has traditionally been difficult to preserve such sites, mostly because many are simply not old enough to be considered "historic." But 40 years ago, neither was Stone Chapel.

So, the next time you're driving through the streets of this Ozarks town, in the shadow of such nostalgic buildings as City Hall and the Old Calaboose, be sure to consider those modern works in a different light. I hope you'll view them with newfound respect.

Don't get me wrong, there is plenty of bad modern design out there, just like there is plenty of bad meringue. But in the hands of a talented and committed team of collaborators, and served up appropriately, nothing tastes quite so sweet.

(Andrew Wells, AIA, NCARB, is president of the American Institute of Architects-Springfield and an architect with Butler, Rosenbury & Partners.)