New York Public Library

The New York Public Library

by Victoria Kim

The façade of the New York Public Library can be observed from the Fifth Avenue, and the grandeur of this building’s portico immediately seizes the attention of a spectator. The frontal structure of this edifice is not flat; the main entrance is projected toward pedestrians on the street, while the wings of this edifice remain pocketed at the back. Thus, this protruding center part of the building becomes the most predominant feature that endows a specific character to the building: the portico emits a welcoming atmosphere. Since the entrance is projected toward the public, this structure appears as though it is reaching out to civilians. Interestingly enough, the stairway placed in front of this portico leads us to ascend the steps in order to enter into the building. This sense of elevation creates the impression of entering into a higher, majestic, and supreme place.

Three barrel vaults stand side by side to form the portico of the library, once again emphasizing the symmetry of the structure. Not two or four, but three; the juxtaposition of three barrel vaults creates the presence of middle arch, which is balanced by two other barrel vaults that stand on both sides of this center vault. This sense of symmetry parallels the façade as a whole, as the portico placed in the center is balanced by the extension of the wings. The equal number of Corinthian columns extend along the both wings to create colonnades, closed by two pediments at both ends. The sense of harmony, balance, and stability emerge from this perfectly symmetrical arrangement of different architectural elements. The balustrade also maintains consistency, equally stretching toward both right and left directions of the library terrace to enhance the sensation of poise and consonance. This railing reveals the repetition of vertical supporting columns that create perpendicular contrast with the coextending horizontal bars. The entwinement of horizontal and vertical characteristics of this protective barrier once again elevates the quality of "balance" that can be found in numerous Greco-Roman architectures. This recurring of classical elements may reflect the society’s admiration for classical antiquity that provided the basic foundation for the shaping of philosophy, literature, and knowledge in Western societies.

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Perhaps, marcher and parti are two inseparable terms, as "the experience in space and time," (Van Zanten 104) provides with a chance to acquire better understanding of a building’s structures and designs, allowing a viewer to determine the possible "concept of the nature of a specific building" (96). Likewise, the experience of marcher inside the New York Public Library gradually reveals its parti - the building’s purpose, its meaning, and its nature.

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Astor Hall greets the visitors who enter the library from the Fifth Avenue entrance. This entire chamber is made out of a monochromic material: the ivory marble stone, which is reminiscent of the Vermont white marble that covers the façade of the edifice. Also, the arcade that surrounds this chamber is the resonator of the portico’s three arches that leads a spectator into Astor Hall. This series of arches is supported by several piers, which are framed by the Doric columns - again, echoing the features of classicism that are shown on the exterior. In such a way, this main entrance plays the role of connecting the exterior of the building with the interior of the library. This transition from an outside world into the interior of the library displays a gradation in its evolving process.

Two sets of stairs - the North Stairs and the South Stairs - bring the visitors up to the third floor of the library. With the ascending of each step, the decorative coffers of the arch ceiling become bigger and more elaborate, with the growing complexity and splendor of the rosettes that fill the core of each coffer. This metamorphosis of coffers and rosettes into more sophisticated forms allows a foretaste of what is coming next. And then, turning at the corner of the second floor finally inflames the mounting curiosity and anticipation, because the arch at the top of the North Stairway provides a glimpse of the magnificent third floor ceiling.


Of course, the colorful third floor ceiling catches a viewer’s immediate attention upon his or her entrance into the Third Floor Landing Hall. Presumably, this painting is portraying one of the Greek mythologies: the story about Prometheus, who stole fire from Zeus to give to humans. If the fire in this mythological painting represents knowledge, the value of knowledge becomes higher in this context: knowledge as a gift from the god Prometheus. Once a viewer becomes slightly more accustomed to the overwhelming ceiling of the third floor hall, he or she might notice the transition from stone to wood as a primary material; yet, because the ornamental beauty of the classicism is still channeled though the carvings of the furniture and on the walls, this change is not an abrupt disturbance that disconnects the flow of transitions. Moving through this barrel vault, wooden antechamber leads a spectator to the Main Reading Room, the climactic and the most important location of the library. The Main Reading Room proudly exerts its splendor through the combination of diverse materials - ranging from marble, wood, and bronze - that adorn and complete the fine details of the chamber. The arched windows, marble walls, bronze rosettes and coffers, and even wooden delivery desk walls with a touch of Greco-Roman classicism reiterate and summarize everything a viewer has seen so far while on his way up to this Main Reading Room, adding to the powerful climactic sensation.


Upon hitting the zenith of the building - the third floor - a viewer is once again forced to think about parti of the structure, as the experience of marcher is about to end. Inevitably, the New York Public Library provides the powerful visual transformation through the movement of space and time, which is very rich and aesthetically satisfying. In other words, visual encounters are pursued and emphasized in this library; the experience of “seeing” is almost as important as “reading” in this architecture. Although this building is classified as a library, the major reading room with numerous volumes of books is present only on the third floor. Astor Hall intrigues the observers to admire at its harmonious, elegant and balanced design, but books are absent on the first floor. Instead, the Gottesman Exhibition Hall replaces the place for books, once again accentuating the value of visual encounters over the importance of reading; after all, the primary purpose of visiting exhibition halls and museums is to observe and see. Additionally, the constant recurring of symmetry and balance, as well as minutely detailed ornaments work their ways through to amplify the visual communication between a viewer and the architecture. Thus, one might think that the New York Public Library cherishes the beauty of visual experiences in human life - after all, reading involves seeing, and a reader is able to illustrate visual images in his or her imagination by reading printed words. This emphasis on visual encounters reveals the entwinement between seeing and reading, the indivisible relationship between these two activities.


The New York Library, despite its vast scale, is endowed with a peculiar impression of flatness because of its location amongst the tall skyscrapers that pierce the sky of New York City; this flatness of the architecture appears to share closer ties with a horizontal line - it extends toward both sides of the building, instead of mounting tall like other buildings that surround this particular edifice. This horizontal organization of the library creates the feeling of firm stability, the quality of which vertical and diagonal lines may never retain. This sort of solidness may represent the permanence and the strength of knowledge. Once inside, the library also shows the progression toward knowledge, as the stairways guide visitors to the third floor. The simple fact that the books are placed on the third floor instead of on ground level is rather significant; the ascending steps whisper to the visitors that genuine knowledge is something that must be pursued by each individual, rather than as an entity that could be handed over by someone else. When an observer reaches the third floor that holds the collections of books, the sky paintings up on ceilings create an impression of a celestial city, thus elevating the status of knowledge into a heavenly realm.


Further, all the exhibition halls, pictures, paintings, and sculptures work together to form the parti of the New York Public Library, that desires to function as both a library and a museum. These decorations not only please the visitors to the library, but also fulfill the purpose of highlighting the importance of visual experiences
- the encounter with materialized expression of ideas through sculptures and images - that can lead to better understandings of literature and printed wisdoms.

Walter de Maria: The New York Earth Room

Walter de Maria: The New York Earth Room

by Victoria Kim

Bemusement and wild fascination might bloom when a viewer is first faced with Walter de Maria’s bizarre piece of art, “The New York Earth Room.” His creation is, quite literally, a room filled with black and moist layers of soil. Those who walk into this place become amused, because no one expects to find a room full of earth in the middle of New York City — the concrete jungle. After the departure of bewilderment, nerves and senses become more perceptive, as they gradually suck in the humidity that wraps around one’s body. Some might find the room rather muggy, however, not necessarily unpleasant: this feeling of clamminess peculiarly combines with the subtle fresh scent that lingers in the air. And then, eyes move on, to notice the smaller details of the room.

The first and the most obvious fact: the wall is stunningly white and the earth is potently black. This binary opposition between two monochromic colors creates a sharp contrast. These two contrasting colors dichotomously separate white from black, and black from white, thus establishing a horizon between the two. The presence of this horizontal line sets a rather stable, serene atmosphere. This horizon is accompanied by other opposing forces, entities that retain vertical qualities: two white columns that stand in the middle of the room, and vertical frames of the eight windows that bring light into the room. Even the materials that constructed this piece of art retain dualities; if the earth that serenely lies on the floor is a natural and organic matter, the wall consists of artificial and inorganic elements such as concrete, cement and paint. Therefore, one might reasonably argue that Walter de Maria’s “New York Earth Room” retains numerous binary oppositions. Interestingly, de Maria’s art conveys the similar force that hibernates inside life, the existence of dualities that both brighten and darken the lives of human beings. Life and death, justice and injustice, right and wrong, honesty and dishonesty, virtue and transgression, love and hate — both the splendor and dimness in human experiences, parallel the stunning contrast between the black and white of de Maria’s “New York Earth Room.”

Another room exists within the Earth Room. Curiosity mounts. This smaller space lacks a door, but a perfect square opening allows a viewer to peek inside: no surprises, it is full of dirt as well. But, can one be so sure? After all, this square peephole provides only a glimpse of the room interior; a panel of white wall stands to block most of the view. How can anyone be so sure that dirt is the only entity behind that wall?


Perhaps, through this earth sculpture, de Maria is pointing out the precarious attributes of unexamined presumptions which stem from the arrogance in human nature. Just because a person is seeing part of something does not necessarily mean that he is acknowledging the whole. Maybe, Maria aims to convey a similar view which coextends with that of Plato. In his philosophical text, The Republic, Plato introduces a rather peculiar and bizarre image, more commonly known as the Allegory of the Cave. Plato opens this allegory with the detailed description of the people who live in an underground cave, whose “legs and necks in bonds so that they are fixed, seeing only in front of them” (Plato 193). These people are unable to “turn their heads all the way around.” In other words, their perspectives are limited; Plato highlights the danger of observing the world through a restricted view that prevents an individual from acquiring truth and enlightenment. Likewise, the simple square opening of the wall tricks people to believe that they are seeing the entirety of de Maria’s artwork, while they are only given part of the view. Thus, this artist attempts to show the important but often neglected truth in human life, that seeing is not equivalent to knowing. In de Maria’s worldview, observing through a perfect square would not necessarily show a perfected, completed truth. I will call this room the “room of ambiguity,” as this space refuses to reveal its content as a whole.

Frankly, the obvious irony lies in the fact that de Maria chose a site in New York City to construct an artwork that consists of a natural matter. After all, the undeniable reality is that concrete roads and buildings cover up the majority of the ground surfaces in New York City: earth is a rare entity in New York. Upon seeing this room full of dirt emitting the long-forgotten scent of nature, New Yorkers are intrinsically reminded of trees, fields and forests that they rarely get to see. They might expect to see the seeds of life growing on this earth, but their expectations are not fulfilled: the earth is completely devoid of green. A sense of odd dissatisfaction emerges; something is missing. Reaching out and touching the dirt allows a viewer to know that this earth is good, moist top soil. Looking up at the ceiling, he will find pipes that are likely to provide water for this earth on a regular basis. After all, the New York Earth Room has been opened to the public since 1980, and this sign of dampness indicates that someone is providing care for the earth. Yet, whether intentional or unintentional, nothing is growing in this room. Matter taken from nature is protected by concrete walls; provided with artificial rain; and, even sunlight is filtered through the glass panes of man-made windows. In other words, the soil is the single most isolated substance within this room. Is de Maria suggesting, without a sound, that a mere imitation of Mother Nature is never able to produce life like the genuine nature itself? However, even while asking the question, no certainty in contained in this inquiry; after all, the “room of ambiguity” that waits behind the square opening warns its observers about the danger of making presuppositions without knowing.

Paradoxically, the simplicity of de Maria’s “New York Earth Room” becomes the cause behind the doubts that emerge from his art. The twist of binary oppositions and dualities in life adds heavy complexity to the Earth Room, while the perilous characteristics of presumptions are poignantly reflected through the simply-designed opening square. If one desires to see anything other than a pile of dirt from de Maria’s work, one should resist the temptation of limiting one’s vision within the square opening that is available; a viewer might be able to find something much more than a mound of earth, if he can escape the trap of presumptions that constrains and restricts his perspective.

References:
De Maria, Walter. The New York Earth Room, 1977. Dia Art Foundation, New York.
Plato. The Republic of Plato. Trans. Allan Bloom. New York: Basic Books, 1991.

Perry Rubenstein Gallery: The Nature Show

Perry Rubenstein Gallery: The Nature Show
by Victoria Kim

Richard Wood’s installation challenges the notion of traditional landscape genre through his modifying and abstracting of the natural elements found in landscapes; ironically, through such a challenge, Wood’s exhibition intertwines with the genre of landscape.

In The Nature Show, innumerable black lines empowered with vertical qualities are juxtaposed with the whiteness of the walls. However, such verticality is accompanied by occasional horizontal breaks and natural wood patterns, reminding the viewers of a hardwood floor. However, such reminder is not equivalent to an illusion; the black-and-white household gloss does not attempt to create the illusionism of real wood patterns. Further, one should also note that just as this household gloss cannot imitate the materiality of a hardwood floor, man-made wood panels cannot replace the naturalness of an actual tree, either. In other words, the wall functions like an artificial forest surrounding this contemporary gallery. Such a forest is abstracted to mere patterns, but one cannot help but using the word “forest” to describe these walls, not only because of the thrusting vertical lines but also due to the images of birds seated on the trees of this abstracted woodland. Even the concept of “wood panels” cannot sever its ties with nature and sublime landscapes although a sense of artificiality is imposed on such a concept — wood panels are man-made objects, but they are artifices rooted in nature. Despite the character of artificiality contained in both the appearance and the concept of these walls, one must refer back to nature and landscapes to describe their qualities.

The polychromatic column stands among the blooming orange flowers of the floor, piercing the ceiling. When observed from one perspective, this pillar is nothing more than a rectangular column with the same wood patterns of the walls echoed on its multicolored surface. Of course, the pillar would lose its significance if this column is observed as a separate entity; rather, the column’s placement should be considered in correlation with other elements of this installation to endow meaning to this object. Due to the deliberate and logical placement of the flower patterns on the floor, the viewer is subconsciously reminded of a tree standing among the flowered grounds. Although reduced to a mere rectangular column, this pillar refers back to an element crucial in traditional landscape paintings. Additionally, the polychromatic aspect of the column should also be considered. The various hues firstly remind one of a rainbow, another natural element found in Ruisdael’s famous landscape painting, The Jewish Cemetery. Secondly, the echoing of such colors in the images of the birds also bares significance; as the artist rhymes the colors with these free-spirited creatures, he is also playfully engaging with the wild and untamed qualities of the landscapes.

Woods does not declare himself as a member of Art Nouveau. The strict verticality and linearity found in Woods’ Nature Show is very contrasting to the free, curvilinear forms favored by Art Nouveau. Nevertheless, he took the organic motifs of Art Nouveau and abstracted them in his own terms, thus complicating the concept of nature as well as the genre of landscape. Still, however abstracted and reduced Woods’ installation may be, this complication forces a viewer to find correlations between his art and the landscape genre when he or she is faced with Woods’ peculiar world of abstractions.