Second Sight: Sanctuary and Sensation

Safety is an aspect of architecture that I've never lent nearly as much credence as I ought to have. Imagine a grand, tall set of stairs. They are reasonably wide; you could likely fit three people standing shoulder-to-shoulder. They are supported by a set of tall pillars. They do not curl around on themselves; that is, the stairs are not circular in any way, and so you do not see anything above you or below but for the pillars. Even more frightening, there is no form of handrail on them at all. How would you feel about trying to walk up or down them? It would certainly spook me, at least the first few times.

I was picturing something like the stairs in the background of this picture.
Fantasy settings seem to hate the idea of handrails.

In Temple Hoyne Buell Hall, the center set of stairs, directly beneath the Eagle's Nest, does not suffer from any such problems. There are, as are almost certainly required by safety code, handrails, but more importantly, there's a giant metal screen directly beside them. The importance of the screen is, in some sense, that it makes you feel protected. Those with a fear of heights don't need to worry about ascending these stairs. As you climb them, you feel as if you are in a room completely separated from the atrium just outside, because if you aren't trying to look through the screen, all you'll see is a great silver wall of sorts. You know you're going up, if only because you feel a little more tired than you should for taking simple steps, but there's no slowly receding ground to see reinforce this idea. The screen makes you feel safe.

The metal screen in THB, with the Eagle's Nest top-right and the speaking platform dead center.

Sometimes, though, safety is boring. People want something... a little spicier. And so, architects might draw something to give the feeling of something unusual or dangerous. Again, in Temple Hoyne Buell Hall, the faculty offices are connected to the architectural studios by these magnificent bridge-like structures. I say bridge-like because they're fairly simple and the entire thing is indoors anyways, but they are assuredly there by design. As you step out from the relative safety of the office area, you immediately notice the great void to your left and right that constitutes the building's sizable atrium. Here, as opposed to the staircase under the Eagle's Nest, somebody afraid of heights would have some cause for concern. You're fairly high up, and though there are some pretty sturdy handrails to keep you from falling, you still feel the danger of the potential drop. The building has safety, yes, but excitement as well.

Grand bridges traverse from the realm of the faculty to the realm of the students.

Architecture calls for both the desire for people to be safe and secure as well as the desire for people to be thrilled. You want to make sure people know that standing in your building is not something to be afraid of at just the same time that you want people to want to come to your building because of the excitement they feel in it. In everything, there is balance; so too is it with architecture.

As an aside, I'd like to make two brief points on the entrance to the Architecture Building. First, it reminded me very much of the building I called a second home for the past three years, Uni High (University Laboratory High School, on Springfield and Matthews). Specifically what caught my eye were the pedestals out front with large bowls; at Uni, one could frequently find them filled with questionable artifacts, like a ratty old jacket or somebody's lunchbox. There's also the "trees" framing the door and the "pop-out" effect of the doorway itself on the two buildings. Second, on the niches above the doorway that once held statues, I'm sure they've been empty for quite some time, long before the construction of Temple Hoyne Buell Hall. After all, it took a student digging through the archives to find a picture that still had the statues there. But, now that the School of Architecture has officially left the building for THB, it's almost like the voids above the door speak to the departure of the original spirit of the building. Just some idle thoughts brought from standing in the cold in improper dress, I'm sure.