Over winter break, I spent a few weeks in Wisconsin for a short internship in the Upper Peninsula. Despite the distance, my family and I drove a couple hours south to Milwaukee to see what the city had to offer. To top off what was a surprisingly pleasant visit, we took a trip to the Milwaukee Art Museum. This small yet balanced museum with a unique selection of exhibits —featuring both renowned artists and less represented genres—is definitely best recognized for its architecture. Despite its oddly familiar motif, this museum sets itself apart from the industrial skyline of Milwaukee with its biomorphic elements and neo-futurist design. Its winged roof and oblong spaceship-like body descend upon Lake Michigan. On the inside, the building’s large windows bathe the galleries in natural light, exposing lesser known aspects and angles of pieces lining its exhibitions. It’s a magnificent work of architecture that breathes the space into life, both literally and physically. At noon, the building’s wings—referred to as the Burke Brise Soleil—will actually “flap.” This display of kinetics complemented our visit well, serving as a reminder that art is fluid and knows little bounds.
At first, I couldn’t quite pin where I’d seen the design before, but then it hit me: New York City. A similar winged building in Manhattan’s Financial District serves as the transportation hub for the World Trade Center. The Oculus, which many Stevens students have likely visited, replaced the original PATH rail system destroyed during the events of September 11, 2001. An interesting feature of the Oculus is that it was intentionally designed to align with the sun each September 11, during the interval between the first plane’s impact and the collapse of the second tower. During this time, the building’s central skylight generates two parallel columns of light through the wedge at its center—a symbol of the Twin Towers—visible on the main floor. The designs for both The Oculus and Milwaukee Art Museum were delivered by famous Spanish-Swiss architect Santiago Calatrava. Calatrava is an engineer turned architect who creates designs that effectively harmonize nature, community, and practicality. The fusion of these aspects results in expansive, well-lit spaces that both invoke grandeur and increase functionality — this is exactly what sets architecture apart from other art forms.While traditional artistic genres often work in two-dimensional mediums and are mostly emotionally driven, architecture is three-dimensional, functional, and emotional. Unlike your standard oil painting, an architectural design envelopes the viewer, allowing them to interact directly with a space. Take the Guggenheim for example, which was designed by Frank Lloyd Wright, widely regarded as the greatest American architect of all time. The inner spiral structure complements the space, evoking the sensation of discovery from the minute a visitor enters the building. The skylight above casts in light, suggesting expansiveness and bathing each consecutive coil in shadow. The shadow intensifies the appeal of each floor, giving museum-goers a sense of wonder as they ascend the spiral to each exhibit. This example also emphasizes the vastness of the considerations an architect must take into account when designing. Architects also play a direct role in the emotional appeal of a space as it enhances functionality. A hypothetical example: An architect designs a building meant to serve as a central market in a city by the ocean. To create this landmark, the architect may design the exterior to resemble waves and create an inner layout that infuses nautical themes. This design is emotionally relatable to the people of the city, and thus they frequent the market because it is a place of comfort and community. While this concept may seem far-fetched, Calatrava intentionally chose the Burke Brise Soleil’s winged design to reflect Lake Michigan’s culture of motion. This resonates more effectively with the residents of the city, making it a recognizable landmark and cultural symbol.
