MSU has a reputation for having a beautiful campus and, for the most part, this reputation is well deserved. In “MSU Shadows,” our alma mater, we Spartans sing of our campus’ “ivy-covered halls.”
But a lot of this reputation, in my mind, has to do with the sheer size of our campus. When we sing “ivy-covered halls,” we’re clearly not talking about Holden Hall or the Communication Arts and Sciences Building or the Cyclotron. And although MSU has some strikingly beautiful areas, MSU also houses some architectural atrocities.
Look, I am no architect. I’ve never studied architecture, and I definitely don’t possess the skills necessary to be one. I can’t even build a solid gingerbread house.
But I do like and admire architecture, as much as an unschooled 20-something can. And like anyone, I have my personal tastes and opinions of aesthetics. The goal is not to offend anyone here.
But I really cannot stand the Hannah Administration Building. Can you imagine it covered with ivy? Gross. That brutalist behemoth of a building is the definition of repugnant. Sitting along the Red Cedar River like a big loaf of steel and concrete, it seems to mock me by saying, “Beauty be damned!”
It’s like the architects designing it gave up on anything resembling love or hope or happiness — all feelings conspicuously absent from my mind whenever I look at it or step inside.
But before I get too carried away, let me explain myself. My construction contemplations have been fueled by two recent developments — the looming demolition of Morrill Hall and the forthcoming erection of the new Eli and Edythe Broad Art Museum.
I, like many MSU students, always have had a spot in my heart for Morrill Hall, the creaky old building that houses the history, English and religious studies departments. Dedicated in 1901 as the first residence hall for women, Morrill Hall has been the location for several of my classes, and I’ve felt there are few better places to study history or old literature than in a building that’s brimming with history itself.
But I’m a realist. I’m not arguing that Morrill Hall needs to stick around — it’s a miracle it survived this long. Rather, I’m lamenting the fact that it likely won’t be replaced with anything as beautiful or significant.
There’s almost no chance that its replacement will be built in the same neoclassical style, which will further add to the increasingly patchy architectural style on campus and further detract from MSU’s beauty.
Many of what we now consider to be our treasures likely weren’t intended to be looked at a century later as historic landmarks. The Richardsonian Romanesque buildings that make up Laboratory Row are considered to be real treasures, though when they were built, they were meant to serve no greater purpose than basic lab work. And quite a few of MSU’s beautiful buildings of the past were burned down, many of them purposefully, to make way for newer, more modern structures midway through the 20th century.
Which brings me to the Eli and Edythe Broad Art Museum, MSU’s newest architectural foray. The university held a competition to select who would design the building, and we all know that nothing brings out the crazies more than an “artistic” competition.
London-based architect Zaha Hadid won, beating out other entries from firms with wacky names such as Coop Himmelb(l)au — no, that’s not a typo, some people really are that pretentious — and Morphosis.
The others looked more like choking hazards than buildings in which to hold fine art, but Hadid won by going with the “bizarre trapezoids” strategy.
The Broads can do whatever they want with their money, and I can’t stop them. But what does that say about MSU’s future when its newest building — described as “iconic” by MSU President Lou Anna K. Simon — looks more like the USS Enterprise than an art museum?
I realize that art is subjective and everyone has their personal tastes, but MSU shouldn’t pretend it cares more about its historic buildings than the hip styles and vogue architects of the moment.
Perhaps it only would be fair to change our alma mater’s words from, “Flushing deep and softly paling o’er ivy-covered halls,” to, “Trading old and charming buildings for parking lots and shopping malls.”
Maybe a century from now, after post-postmodernistic architecture has become passé, some other dimpled student will opine in The State News his sadness about the impending demolition of the Hannah Administration Building to build a jet pack landing strip. That’s fine, he can whine just like I’m whining now.
But seriously, if there was ever a building worthy of demolition, it’s that one.
Dan Faas is the State News opinion writer. Reach him at faasdani@msu.edu.
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