The history of architecture tells us that Judaism has no real architectural tradition of its own. It instead borrows from local traditions. This practice is apparent in the description of the Temple of Solomon, the masonry synagogues of nineteenth century Berlin and the various Jewish cultural centers in Albany Park where I took painting instruction as a child. They were all built in the vernacular.
The Spertus Institute for Judaica called for designs that expanded their multi-use facility on South Michigan Avenue in Chicago. The new facility is designed to further their mission of nurturing and celebrating the Jewish community and faith and to welcome those who wish to participate, study and learn. While there is a large public gathering space and a research facility, there is no dedicated place of worship in the programme. These facilities are meant to complement those of neighboring museums and institutions of higher learning. Furthermore, the Spertus requested a strong civic presence along the historic Michigan Avenue streetwall.
This competition was an opportunity to employ the Chicago vernacular in the service of expressing and celebrating Judaic values. But what is the vernacular in Chicago and what opportunities exist for designing a building that expresses, engages and celebrates Judaism? I'll answer the latter first. What I find truly remarkable about Judaism is its dedication to meaning and compassion. Judaism developed in a world of Egyptian Sun Gods and countless extinct brutal, polytheistic religions. Men lived in fear and ritual sacrifice was used to assuage hostile, indifferent deities. Judaism, on the other hand, taught that God, one God, created a world, one world, that is rich, abundant and magnificently diverse. Although man is limited in his powers, he can achieve greatness of spirit, and divine compassion for himself and his brothers. Central to this endeavor is the word, the book and learning.
This is my attempt to create a warm, welcoming environment where Chicagoans, both believers and gentiles, come together and share in that richness of spirit. I have made a proposal that attempts to work in – not forms that are just for forms sake – but something rooted in the Chicago vernacular that makes the cultural center open to air and light on 4 sides, provides a lighted beacon from the lake and a green touch to the city's architecture. It respectfully maintains the historic street wall while moving the architecture of South Michigan Avenue and the city forward. In my first sketch, above, I outline two great innovations of Chicago architecture: the balloon frame house and the steel frame high-rise. Frank Lloyd Wright, an immensely talented architect who worked in Chicago but not technically a Chicago Architect, rejected the way these steel frame high-rises were constructed. He objected, and rightly so, to the use of steel like lumber, and pointed out that the new skyscrapers were essentially post and beam structures on steroids. Wright suggested using steel in concrete to create a unity where structure and enclosure are one. It made the various styles exhibited in Chicago School skyscrapers irrelevant and obsolete in a manner similar to the Yewah making the pantheon of deities and its practices all superstition and barbarism. In the late 1920's, he designed a series of apartment towers for Pearson Street at Lake Shore Drive that, if built, would have set the Chicago School on its head (like he intended Fallingwater to do the oeuvre of the esteemed architect Le Corbusier) and advanced high-rise architecture in ways still unrealized. Please see the architect Lucien Lagrange's high rise residential buildings that are currently being built upon the site for a comparison. Wright's buildings still seem fresh, innovative and exciting and make Lagrange's buildings look vulgar, banal and mediocre.
My building pays homage, not to the Chicago School but to the Master's critique of it. The building is 12 stories of cantilevered concrete floors supported from cores that house elevators, cabling and services. The floor edges have a raised lip giving them greater structural integrity and making under floor cabling and duct work possible. The floor plates are column free and are set back on the north and south with full height atriums. They are enclosed by two light box / thermal barriers at the east and west elevations. These lightweight facades consist of two layers of glass sandwiching a vertical arbor complementing the majestic elms in Grant Park across the street. The windows are operable and facilitate natural ventilation in summer from lake breezes.
One enters the building from Michigan Avenue on the north side and passes a point of control before being allowed to proceed up the stair and into a full height atrium that runs the full east – west length of the building. Circulation is either by stair or elevator. There are 10 floors of offices and special use space. The 12th floor sits under partial barrel vaults that allow in direct winter sun for heating and provide light for special events. It is not THE solution, but is mean to start a dialogue about Chicago, Judaism and architecture that can lead to greater understanding of who we are and where we are going (see last sketch bottom right).
