The new building on the Mall, in any case, definitely does not feel as if it "grew" from this particular piece of land. A long time ago, before colonization, the site (between Jefferson Drive, Maryland Avenue and Third and Fourth streets SW) was a little woodland next to a creek. Yet the references in Cardinal's architecture aren't local. They're not even Appalachian. The building brings to mind the mountains and the ancient native architecture of the American Southwest.
However, accepting the artifice is something one does willingly because the architecture is so convincing. As a romantic abstraction of nature, this building really works.
In form, the museum evokes not its Eastern setting but the Southwest. Its architect saw it as "an abstraction of the rock that formed this continent."
(Bill O'leary -- The Washington Post)
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It is a powerful form. Those dramatic cantilevered bands above the entrance are scintillating when seen from afar, like some natural wonder you might see in New Mexico. And when you stand far beneath the cantilevers in the museum's circular forecourt, the scale has an almost physical effect. You feel both overwhelmed and sheltered. I can't think of another architectural space quite like it.
Then there is the way those blocks of rough-cut dolomitic limestone on the wavy walls react to the sun. They love it, all day long. And it loves them. Strong shadows enliven the surfaces of the big building. And the warm earth tones, rare in Washington, add a rich new note to the Mall's palette.
The building affects your spirit. It is intimidating but also exhilarating. These opposing reactions bespeak the tension built into any effort to make a monumental building that's an obvious abstraction of natural forms or forces. It is a risky thing to do, but Cardinal makes it work here, as he did in Ottawa with the Canadian Museum of Civilization, because he did not try to imitate nature.
Rather, he set up a series of contrasts between the nature metaphor and the material reality of the building. Those blocks of limestone, for instance, do indeed suggest a mountain's rough edges. But you can't help noticing that the stones are beautifully laid in irregular courses. You can feel the masons' touch.
More subtly, you can see and sense the human intellect behind the shaping of this building. Those curves are elegant and complex. They were conceived by a sensitive, daring brain, and could have been built only with the aid of advanced computer technology.
If this makes the architecture sound like High Seriousness and no fun at all, I should dispel this impression right away. The building is, quite simply, pleasant to be around.
Strolling along the paved walkway that curves gently away from Jefferson Drive is a Sunday treat. You can sit down in the shade. Listen to the water coursing nearby. Gaze up at the building's sensational north elevation. Even false notes such as the waterfall on the northwest corner -- it rings a Disneyland bell -- do not spoil the effect.
Efficiency experts might complain that the east-facing entrance is on the wrong side because the vast majority of the museum's visitors will arrive from the west, from the direction of the Air and Space Museum and the Smithsonian and L'Enfant Plaza Metro stations. And they'd be right. A west-facing entrance would have been a tad more convenient.
Then again, visitors would miss that pleasant walk! And, more to the point, an entry facing the rising sun was a key desideratum for members of the many tribes that took part in the lengthy consultations leading up to a design. This was a native characteristic everybody agreed on.
The eastern entryway might also be called the psychological key to the design, for it engenders a face-off with the U.S. Capitol up on the Hill. The view of the great Capitol dome from the entry plaza or the broad windows of conference and reading rooms is truly unforgettable. Symbolically, for Native Americans, what could be more powerfully poignant, or vindicatory, than that?
Unfortunately, the inside of the building doesn't quite live up to the outside. The intention clearly was to make the interior spaces thrilling and meaningful in the same ways, but they just don't have the same complexity and carry.
Unhappily, it's impossible to say precisely why. It may have been the absence of Cardinal's guiding hand in the design follow-through. Budget constraints possibly played a role. Perhaps it was the concept itself. Such uncertainty became a certainty the day Cardinal was fired.
