September 2008
Inspirations: Brochstein Pavilion at Rice University
Publication: Cite Magazine, Vol. 76, Fall 2008
Title: Inspirations: Brochstein Pavilion at Rice University
Author: Ronnie Self
Modern architecture has influenced the Rice campus and surfaced at its very center. The new Raymond and Susan Brochstein Pavilion by architects Thomas Phifer and Partners is a remarkable building by virtue of its location, simplicity, transparency, and color. At 6,000 square feet it is among the smaller buildings on the campus, yet it may be the most striking. Although it clearly breaks with Rice’s strict architectural code, it appears liberating rather than jarring. Within the context, it was a bold move by the university and by the architect.
In a way, the pavilion could not be simpler. It is square in plan and rectangular in both elevations and section. The horizontal roof plane dominates the composition: conceptually the entire structure is a simple trellis composed of steel beams and aluminum rods supported by thin steel columns. The ensemble has perhaps more to do with the campus’s landscape than its buildings and it acts as a sort of architectural folly in a vast garden. Seen as a folly it is exempt from formal or stylistic requirements that other buildings must fulfill. As a folly its functional program is practically inexistent.
The pavilion is one large, column-free, glass enclosed room. The all glass building in Houston’s sun-beaten climate is made reasonable by the roof canopy that blocks 65 percent of the sun, its high performance glass, the thermal break mullions, and an increased amount of insulation in the roof cavity. The interior space is structured by 11 seven-foot bays in both directions and surrounded by an exterior arcade of five bays on each side – interestingly, all prime numbers. Inside, the ceiling is white, perforated metal with integrated sprinkler heads and recessed fluorescent lights. Natural light from skylights also filters through. The floor is black-stained concrete with a continuous metal air-supply grill at the perimeter, which also makes the transition between the floor and the glass façade. A rectangular core that houses restrooms, storage, and mechanical (a small basement is also devoted to mechanical) is placed off center in the room and defines two areas: a larger space to the north punctuated by a circular, freestanding bar, highlighted by incandescent spotlights, where food and drinks are sold, and a smaller space to the south with several video/television screens placed against the wall of the core. Both areas are furnished with chairs, armchairs, and tables. It is space for space’s sake, generally spare, and seemingly influenced by Phifer’s current explorations for his design of the North Carolina Museum of Art.
A striking aspect of the pavilion is that is is all white. Richard Meier, with whom Phifer collaborated for over a decade, often says that his buildings are white so as not to distract from the formal composition. Even though Phifer’s building is a pure geometric shape, it tends toward the formless because of its transparency and the immaterial quality of the roof canopy. Visually, it may have more in common with the work of the Japanese architectural firm SANAA (Sejima and Nishizawa and Associates), such as their recent, highly refined Glass Pavilion for the Toledo Museum of Art. For SANAA, monochromatic white and the lack of a dominate finish allow for the parts or pieces of their generally minimal buildings to become recognizable, rather than disappearing into larger forms. Phifer and SANAA share a conceptual approach as well. Both strive for simplicity, clarity, lightness, and precision. A connection to the surroundings and a strong relation between inside and outside are essential. For both, architecture is not a theoretical pursuit but should focus on people and their activities. Buildings should be places of interaction. They should be unselfconscious and joyful. SANAA’s goal is simply to create a sense of liberty and freedom in their buildings, and Phifer likewise mentions a democracy of spirit.
Pragmatic elements such as the glass canopies over the entry doors, the curved, perforated metal light scoops over the skylights, and the exterior lights tethered to the facades provide a decorative component within a general quest for an economy of means.
The pavilion is at the same time a destination and a crossroads. Its square plan and overall uniformity promote a non-hierarchical relationship to the immediate surroundings and make the building equally approachable from all direction. The two actual entrances are aligned in the center of the east and west facades. Viewed at a campus scale, the placement of the project on the main east/west axis would seemingly block it; however, the entire pavilion functions as a sort of portal to be passed through, somewhat like the main portal of the campus through Lovett Hall. Other doors on all sides of the building allow the Pavilion to be opened to the outside in good weather.
Seen from the west, the building takes on another role and appears as a new, thick, glass façade for the generally opaque Fondren Library behind. At night is appears as a lantern. Despite its obvious differences with the surrounding buildings, the project seems at east in its context. It is the right puzzle piece, if with a different picture.
Landscaping by The Office of James Burnett Landscape Architecture plays an important role in making the building fit in. The landscape architecture scheme negotiates with the formality of the campus while humanizing it. There are no extravagant gestures and the plant palette is restrained. Burnett focused primarily on the space between the pavilion and the Fondren Library to the east where he planted a grid of Drake Elms 14 feet apart and centered on the structural bays of the building. The tight placement of relatively mature trees has immediately provided a dense canopy and a deep shade that makes this outdoor room inviting and even pleasant on the hottest of Houston days. The shade from the trees compensates for the peculiarity of the pavilion’s roof overhang, which is designed to filter light the same way live oaks do along Rice walkways but do not provide adequate protection from the sun in summer (or protection from the rain). The outdoor space is actually divided into two identical courts, one on each side of the main axis, and each has a 52-foot-long by 4-foot-wide fountain as a centerpiece. The fountains are troughs in black stone which provides a counterpoint to the whiteness of the pavilion. The presence of water and the murmur of fountains contribute to the cooling effect. The ground surface in decomposed granite gives a public garden connotation. The tables and chairs that furnish the space can be changed and rearranged by the users, and for Burnett, the iris that surround the courts add looseness to the composition. The space teeters between the formal and the informal.
In contrast to the enclosed outdoor space to the east, the view opens to the north and south, and especially to the west over the sloped lawn. Here Burnett’s project generally feathers into the existing landscape. Horsetail reeds under the roof overhand will eventually be pruned to a uniform height, when they should be geometrical and virtually architectural. They provide a slight separation between people seated just outside the pavilion and passersby.
What the Brochstein Pavilion is actually supposed to be remains agreeably ambiguous. A student union? Simply a place to study? As pleasant as the space may be, the social functions the building are only beginning to develop. It focuses campus life inward and seems to accentuate the monastic quality of the campus, though it could serve as a modern-day forum, a covered piazza, a village square for impromptu meetings and exchange. Located at the center of Rice, it is a sort of retroactive navel that should both channel and symbolize campus life.
An unintended consequence of the project, however, is that the landscape of the main quad, for example, now appears harsh in comparison. Likewise, in relation to this new, crisp pavilion, the architectural approach adopted for the campus over the last several decades seems lackluster. As odd as it may be at the beginning of the 21st century, modern architecture seems to have been vindicated through this project. Transparency and lightness are shown to be valid architectural pursuits, as are a permeable relation between inside and outside and even the expression of rational structure.
Phifer generally aspires to a transformation and an actualization of modern architecture while working within its continuum. He also aspires to timeless building trough simplicity. On his web site he reveals images of his own “inspirations” that range from Gothic cathedrals to high-tech objects, from Japanese pavilions to cast iron exhibition halls, from minimal art to high modernism… This varied yet coherent selection of working references explains perhaps how Phifer managed to successfully place a modern building in a more traditional context. At least in an architect’s mind’s eye, Phifer’s project is part of another architectural tradition that is well over a century old. His building is heir to Paul Sheerbart’s Glass Architecture dream from 1914 and to Le Corbusier’s Poem of the Right Angle from the early 1950s and most certainly to many other dreams and traditions of modern and contemporary architecture. Currently, Houston architecture rarely participates in a bold transformation of modern architecture, even though that should practically be its birthright. Houston was founded only 15 years before the Crystal Palace was constructed. Rice University opened 23 years after the completion of the Eiffel Tower and only 17 years before the Barcelona Pavilion. The Brochstein Pavilion is among the most exciting and modern buildings to be realized in Houston in recent memory. Hopefully, the building and is approach will have an influence and even inspire others.
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Article Insert
Everyone Loves Raymond
by Barry Moore
Rice has never had a gathering place where students, faculty, administration, and the community could meet. Autry House, adjoining Palmer Church on Main Street, tried to serve that purpose from 1920 to 1948, but there was not much community around. The Roost, in the basement of Fondren Library (1948-58) was unwelcomely buried in the basement. Sammy’s in the Rice Memorial Center has been infinitely more pleasant but mostly students go there.
Raymond Brochstein, a Rice graduate (BS Arch’56), Chariman of Brochsteins Inc., trustee emeritus, and benefactor, has attended the Rice Buildings and Grounds Committee meetings for a long time and carefully followed the planning ideas developed over the years to created a commons – the Pelli Plan with it’s Sallyport-sized opening through Fondren to reestablish the east-west axis, the idea of a cyber café inside Fondren, and the Michael Graves proposal for a new structure west of Fondren,.
Raymond, however, is quick to place the credit elsewhere for building the pavilion. “This never would have happened without President David Leebron. He was concerned because the campus looks dead at times, especially west of Fondren. It’s nice to have a facility sort of like a lantern, a beacon of light and active.”
Brochstein had known pavilion architect Tom Phifer since his visit to the campus in 2005 for an informational interview, along with other well known, talented designers. At the time, nothing on the Rice building agenda seemed right – until the priority of the president to build the pavilion became known.
Raymond and his wife Susan had recently traveled to Paris and visited the Tuileries Garden and returned with a fresh appreciation for the lines of trees, crushed granite surfaces, and movable tables and chairs. Translated into the pavilion site, one can imagine accommodating outdoor concerts and movies at the west end of the building.
For his part, the architect described his concept to the Buildings and Grounds Committee as a “light structure in a 19th-century English garden.”
Brochstein notes the synergy between Phifer and James Burnett, the landscape architect: “They clicked. Burnett outdid himself. Together they turned this into a people place.” He adds, “You can design for a result you want, but results are not always predictable.”
Asked for his analysis on the pavilion, Brochstein does not hesitate: “This is in some ways ‘non-architecture’. It is a strong architectural statement, but once you go inside, the architecture goes away.” But his most insightful comment concerns this new building’s relationship to Fondren Library. “The west end of Fondren is the worst. Now it couldn’t be a more perfect backdrop. How often do you fnid something so bad that turns out so good?”
The Brochsteins are delighted that the Brochstein Pavilion has become a public destination on what was a dead part of the campus and an exciting mid-point on the axis from the Sallyport to the Shepherd School.