Phoenix Art Museum-

Good Bones Fleshed Out

By Eddie Jones

It has occurred to me that it is possible to measure the intellectual development of our city by studying the "growth rings" on the northeast corner of Central and McDowell. Having lived in Phoenix for 34 years, I am somewhat familiar with the history of the Phoenix Art Museum as it was originally designed. Although I had treated myself to a self-guided tour of the new $41 million expansion subsequent to the official opening, I decided to delve more deeply into the design and construction process to further the foundations of my personal understanding. Mr. Howard Hendler—whose support and acquisition of world-class art has helped place PAM on the national cultural map—agreed to give me an in-depth private tour.

Mark Ryan also gave his time as a behind-the-scenes tour companion. Mark was the local architect chosen by New York–based architects-of-record Tod Williams and Billie Tsien to be the eyes and ears of day-to-day, on-site construction issues. Naturally, I had many technical questions relative to the structure and materials, and Mark was very clear in his explanations. His input was essential—especially when he wove the back-story of aesthetic intuition along with the realities of construction.

In 1954, Alden Dow, in association with Blaine Drake, were the architects for the original Phoenix Civic Center Museum and Library Complex. Both gentlemen were former Taliesin Fellowship members—with Frank Lloyd Wright—who left in the 1940s to begin their own private practices: Dow in Midland, Michigan, and Drake in Phoenix—each producing a notable lifetime body of work.

For this complex, these architects produced a wonderful collection of thoughtful cultural buildings, balancing the importance of interior space with intimate, shaded outdoor courtyards. For those of us old enough to remember, this oasis within our urban desert replaced heat and noise with serenity and respite. The point is, Tod and Billie (as they are affectionately referred to in the architectural press) had "good bones" to work with.

Adapting and adding new construction to an existing structure can be a daunting challenge in the best of hands. Broaden this notion to include the complexity of a major art museum and an aging existing facility, and the challenge is multiplied.

It should be made clear that this is the second PAM expansion designed by Tod Williams and Billie Tsien. The first phase, completed in 1996, eliminated a portion of the Central Main Branch Library designed by Dow and replaced it with museum offices, exhibition space and a future area for gallery additions. Phase 1 anticipated the recently completed galleries and, most significantly, the long-awaited "front door."

The placement of a building's entry is as poetically symbolic as it is functional. In the 1996 expansion, you may have wondered, as many did, why the usual relationship between automobile parking and entry was significantly separated. Well, it wasn't finished yet!

I believe that one of the architects' intentions in '96 was to give the museum an appropriate presence on Central Avenue. This is evident in the narrow setback of the west elevation, paralleling the street, and the resulting drop-off portico as an entry gesture visible to passing cars.

Once the approach sequence was learned, it was quite a delightful journey from the north parking area, through the "hall of mirrors," toward what is still one of my favorite sculptures, "Flying Woman" by Paolo Soleri. Continuing through the courtyard, eloquently composed with water, carefully placed sculpture and an understated emphasis on landscaping, one finally found the lobby.

For the new expansion, an obvious entry was a program priority. Convention would suggest an efficient and practical point of entry would be off of the center of the large parking area. As we have come to expect, Tod and Billie are not constrained by the obvious. Rather than respond to only the requirements of exhibiting art, the architects insisted their solution give back to the cultural corridor of Phoenix.

I will go on record as one of the guys willing to confess admiration for the Sandra Day O'Connor Courthouse by Richard Meier. Every downtown of any importance needs a public "living room." The multistory glass prism space is beautiful, even breathtaking, in its immense soft white light–diffusing volume. Unfortunately, due to security issues, most of us (other than judges and felons) can only peek into this other world. Apparently, under no circumstances can there be a physical engagement with street activity. For what it is worth, the architect in me says, "any urban building hoping to achieve excellence has a social responsibility to contribute something positive back to the sidewalk." Density, pedestrians and indeed the sounds of the city need ground level to be public domain! Phoenix almost got its living room—almost.

The Phoenix Art Museum not only has a new identifiable front door, it has a wonderfully scaled, transparent "living room" right on Central Avenue. The new lobby can adequately be described as a 5,000-square-foot aquarium for people. Protected by a huge gravity-defying roof, seemingly supported by visually non-existent glass, I think of the traditional Southwest shade structure we call a ramada. An additional 5,000 square feet of column-free outdoor shaded front porch is located adjacent to the entry. The levitating roof provides a welcome shade zone, buffered from traffic noise by sculptural concrete walls and falling water rivulets. Mr. Ryan explained the fascinating structural back flips required to hold up the giant ramada without appearing to break a sweat. I am just mischievous enough to keep it a secret and not deprive the reader of the joy of self-discovery.

So the experience begins at the front door, and it is clear that there is a mission to the now-complete museum. There is a sense of exhilaration as the spaces unfold one into another, initially through connective passages behaving like galleries, then collecting auxiliary functions such as restrooms, gift shop, restaurant and a soon-to-be wine bar.

The 1996 entry experience required the museum patron to make a choice—the north galleries or the south. Today, there is no such decision as one moves in a linear pattern, choosing to bypass a particular gallery, yet having awareness of its existence.

The pre-existing Great Hall continues to be a magnificent space. I was eager to ascend the stairway leading up to the Cornelia Parker suspended charred wood sculpture and was surprised to find it missing. However, in its place, I was happy to discover the work of some of my favorite artists, especially sculptures by Alexander Calder. Yes, they are tiny, but Calder never ceases to delight.

Of course, one of the major payoffs is arrival into the new atrium gallery. It is immense. You will immediately notice a beautiful concrete-and-glass vertical sculpture—another gravity-defying gesture. And it is interactive—there are people climbing it! It is the grand staircase, and it deserves a little wall plaque crediting the artists (architects). The mid-level stair landing is large enough to invite pause. From this perch one can begin to comprehend the cubic volume of this beautifully day-lit space. I found myself wondering if we could take up a collection to procure the giant red Calder mobile hanging in Washington D.C.'s National Gallery East Wing atrium. That would be perfect!

Arriving to the upper level, I found the Cornelia Parker piece. I admit, the original location was very powerful, and the new placement will take some getting used to, but it definitely has potential. If only the museum staff would get rid of those horribly distracting, black crowd-control barriers.

Across the room is another favorite: Dan Flavin's colored fluorescent light pieces. To the left is the mysterious room of black mirrors and sparkle by Yayoi Kusama. If you have ever wondered what it would be like to float in outer space, this is the room for you.

For those planning a first visit, I would encourage you to be drawn to the corners. Movement is very important, and the architecture expects it and delivers a variety of experiences. There are several ways to move vertically between levels and each one has its subtleties. Other than the grand staircase, stepped access can be found in the corners. The lure is the change in light levels intensified by hidden daylight sources. You could be on a stair, or you may find yourself on an elevated platform projecting beyond the exterior walls overlooking the city or the new outdoor sculpture garden.

Courtyards are a tradition in Southwestern indigenous architecture. The original building massing of Dow and Drake utilized captured courtyard areas to provide daylight deeper into the occupied reading rooms and bring continuity to interior and exterior spaces. As I mentioned earlier, the 1996 expansion preserved the main courtyard between buildings, which was composed thoughtfully in response to visitors' circulation patterns, with axes terminated by beautiful sculpture as focal points.

The new Dorrance Sculpture Garden, designed by the landscape architecture firm of Reed Hilderbrand, is a mystery to me. I want to appreciate the effort, but so far, I cannot. I acknowledge that any new landscaping is a work in progress; yet I can usually sense the relationship of plant material, hardscape and architecture soon after construction completion. I don't have a comfortable sense about this garden.

I remember experiencing the Getty Center in Los Angeles eight years ago—particularly, Robert Irwin's garden. I know he is very proud of his accomplishment. He likes to tell us that it makes the Top 10 Gardens of the World list each year, but I have the same criticism about it.

Tod and Billie's ability to balance each element with restraint, intelligence and subtlety makes a difficult pairing with the new courtyard of disparate pieces. I miss the Phase 1 courtyard with Scarpa-like detailing and the "Flying Woman."

With so many new important art museums opening around the world, it is natural to draw some comparisons. The superstar museums (you know which ones they are) have seen unquestionable success. In America, more people are going to museums than ever before. Architecture is the attraction. Hooray for architecture! Having spent some time as part of a museum exhibit myself (SMoCA '06), I am aware of curatorial challenges. My partner Neal and I have had compelling conversations with curators regarding architecture that overpowers the art and increases the difficulty of conventional installations. The solution is, of course, unconventional installations.

Tod and Billie deserve a lot of credit for their obvious respect for our community and the museum-going public. Do we have superstar museum architecture? Maybe not, but we have a user-friendly facility that inspires us, and an architecture that possesses the confidence to recede and let the art come forward. We have a beautiful art museum representing the intellectual ascension of Phoenix.