MIT is celebrating the opening of its Metropolitan Warehouse project – a rework of the fortresslike warehouse for campus use. The building, despite being “just” a warehouse, is replete with crenellations and battlements, sporting thick red brick walls that boast of its fireproof nature with white painted lettering. A city landmark, it recalls an industrial past and a time attractive architecture was cheap and expected.
Despite having its own architecture school, MIT hired Diller Scofidio + Renfro, known for New York City’s High Line park redevelopment and other adaptive reuse projects. The architect had several challenges. The floor plate was deep, with thick walls and narrow windows. More light was needed to make it usable for academics. Certainly this would be a tough task for any architect.
Architects prefer high, vaulting ceilings, believing them to be more pleasing to occupants and better for natural light. This meant installing floors at a different height than existed, which led to windows being at the wrong height. The architect’s solution was not to remove them, but to cut a second set of larger windows that intersected the existing ones at their corners or not at all. Some of these windows have eight sides! It is as if the window layout was preset and pasted on without care. It had to have been expensive for each window to be a custom shape and size – all to look careless.
The railroad-facing side solved this problem differently: Architects cut away about half the facade and replaced it with protruding glass boxes. Certainly this is a symptom of modern structural engineering, one removing the need for architects to be creative. An all-glass reflective curtain wall serves to titillate occupants and torture passersby, including, perhaps, birds. A smart person noted how weird it is to see familiar buildings that have been refurbished look mostly the same, except with glass boxes dropped on top.
The finishes and materials look expensive and well-crafted, and that will carry the building into respectability as it ages and fades back into its urban surroundings. But there’s no excuse for institutions that are willing to spend buckets of money on buildings to spend that money on uninspired, slapdash architecture that seeks to answer no questions and solve no problems. Ask yourself this: What about this building says “MIT,” the group of quirky nerds known for putting cars atop buildings and keeping a “banana room”? This renovation was conceived in a boardroom, not a lab.
Had I been in charge, I’d have kept these ideas in mind: First, respect the floor plate. Cut as many windows as you want, but don’t force a nonsensical layout on the facade. Second, respect the outside world. This project would benefit from balconies, greenery and a willingness to beautify its surroundings – it seems currently only to reject the built environment. Lastly, invite the outside in. MIT’s open campus policy has famously fallen by the wayside, but a building this large and long was an opportunity to connect points on the Grand Junction route with a warm and safe passageway. This seems not to have been considered.
If an average nonarchitect walked by the building, would they smile and nod? Or would they be confused? What institutions build matters, because it is a physical representation of the institution’s point of view, serving to teach its occupants about their place in the world. Right now, at a time universities need support from everyday people to survive, MIT wants to show us that it knows and is better than us.
Nicholas Marchuk is a local author and engineer. His work is available at major retailers and on his website, nicholasmarchuk.com. Comments and questions can be directed to his contact form and may be responded to in this publication.
