In my previous post, I wrote about Huntington Hartford’s
iconoclastic views on art and his art collection. As he planned a museum to showcase the art he
favored, he needed a building in Manhattan.
Once built, the museum building received a mixed reaction from critics,
just like the art that was on display inside.
The Site
Hartford faced a daunting task when deciding to place his
new museum in New York City. New York
has dozens of art institutions and galleries, so making an impression (both
then and now) is difficult. Hartford
chose a prominent location for the museum, and it was a location that would certainly get noticed. But, the lot he chose posed some very
specific problems.
Columbus Circle sits at the southwestern corner of Central
Park. Serving as the intersection of
Central Park West and Broadway, it’s about as high-profile a location you can
get in Manhattan. The plot of land at 2
Columbus Circle is where Hartford decided to build. It’s a small, trapezoid-shaped bit of land
surrounded by busy streets. In another,
less populous city it might have just remained undeveloped green space at the
edge of a traffic circle. But, in
space-starved Manhattan, something was built there. A structure housing "a shoe store and offices" (according to Hanford Yang's proposal- see below)
sat on the property when Hartford bought it in the late 1950s. To any architect, the plot would be difficult
to build on. It was small (only 5,000
square feet- miniscule by New York standards) and oddly shaped. Each side of the property was a different
length, and the longest side was only about 100 feet. Any architect that Hartford chose would have
to deal with these limitations while still providing ample space inside to show
the artwork sufficiently. Hartford
eventually chose Edward Durell Stone as the architect of the building, an
experienced builder who approached the site and the museum in some pretty
interesting ways.
Choosing an Architect
Hanford Yang's design |
When searching for a designer for the future Gallery of
Modern Art, Hartford was initially drawn to the design submitted by a recent
MIT graduate named Hanford Yang. Yang,
who was Chinese, proposed an innovative design (it was actually his Master’s
thesis) that used three tall tubes, placed at the edges of the property, to
house the mechanicals and stairs. This
left the interior spaces open. In Yang’s
design, the exhibition floors were hung from the three tubes and sheathed in
plastic panels that acted as walls. While
researching this topic, I was surprised to find Yang’s entire original proposal from 1957 posted on the Internet. It’s a
fascinating relic from the past, documenting his unrealized concept as well as
giving a contemporary account of 2 Columbus Circle before the museum was
built. But, Yang was not registered as
an architect in New York State, so his design could not be used. Hartford eventually brought in Edward Durell Stone as architect, an American designer with extensive experience in
museums and public buildings.
Stone's American Embassy in New Delhi, India |
Stone was no stranger to museum design. He had designed an expansion at the nearby
Museum of Modern Art, and was at the time receiving international attention for
his designs of the US Embassy in New Delhi, and the US Pavilion at Expo ’58 in
Brussels. He also designed such notable
buildings as Radio City Music Hall and the Kennedy Center in Washington DC (I discovered while writing this that he also designed the Buffalo News
Headquarters. I drive by this building
almost daily and never realized Stone was the architect. You truly do learn something new every day!).
At the time, Stone’s buildings were
characterized by delicate, perforated screens that covered a building’s entire façade,
making it seem light and airy. These
screens became a sort of trademark for Stone, and would prove difficult to integrate into the final Gallery of Modern Art plan.
The Building
Stone faced many challenges while designing the GoMA. Art needs wall space, but interior spaces also
need light. Bringing large amounts of
natural light into the museum wasn’t really an option, since windows take up
wall space. Therefore, most of the light
in the GoMA had to be provided artificially.
The windows were small, porthole-shaped
openings that were pushed to the edges of the structure, allowing only limited
natural light to reach the interior.
From the outside, they were covered by Stone’s trademark perforations.
The GoMA's interior. The small porthole windows can be seen in the background. |
Inside, Stone handled the space restrictions quite
elegantly. The museum was constructed
with nine floors, but only four floors showcased the art. When planning the exhibition spaces, Stone
had to contend with such things as mechanicals, elevator shafts, and
stairways. These essential elements can’t
be removed from any structure, so Stone had to figure out a way to work around
them. The size of the stairs between the
exhibition floors was expanded, creating large stair landings. These landings also served as gallery space,
greatly increasing the amount of wall space available. The wall spaces were decorated with exotic
hardwoods and the floors were carpeted.
A far cry from the stark white walls popular at the Museum of Modern
Art. The effect was more like being in
someone’s living room instead of a sterile museum. A pipe organ provided live music for patrons
as they strolled through the galleries.
The remaining floors housed offices, a small café, and Hartford’s lavish
Polynesian restaurant, named the “Gauguin Room”.
An early rendering of the GoMA |
But at ground level, one could find what were perhaps the
buildings most characteristic features (for better or for worse). Stone designed the museum as sort of a stretched-out
Venetian palazzo, supported by columns with round windows above them. Critics were quick to compare the shape to
lollypops, and the building was unofficially called the “Lollypop Building” for
decades afterwards. The features of the
building were either wildly ahead of their time or just plain comical. The building has been described as slyly
referencing other architectural styles; a precursor to what later became known
as Post-Modern Architecture. To others,
it just looked silly. A white elephant
stranded at the edge of the traffic circle.
Critics were divided as to whether Stone had created a modern
masterpiece, or was signaling that his best work was now truly behind him.
The lollypops are clearly visible here |
Legacy and Renovation
Hartford spent a considerable amount of his own money to construct
Stone’s design. The building, which had
been budgeted at about 3 million dollars, ended up costing over twice
that. The Gallery was open for about five years, and Hartford failed to recoup his investment. The lukewarm reception of both the
art and the building that housed it hastened its closure. By July of 1969, the GoMA was finished. The museum had failed to make an impression
on the New York art world and Hartford transferred ownership to Fairleigh Dickinson University, who operated the site as the New York Cultural Center. The building survived long after the Gallery
of Modern Art was dead and buried, and slowly became a part of the fabric of
New York City. Manhattan residents
remained divided as to its legacy, though, and several efforts to get the
building landmark status failed. In
2008, The Museum of Arts and Design (formerly the American Craft Museum) moved
into the building and radically changed both the interior and exterior. This touched off numerous battles between
preservationists and architecture scholars who wanted to save the building as
Stone designed it, and developers and planners who wanted something done with
the structure regardless of what it looked like (it had been unoccupied for many years at that
point). I won’t re-hash the arguments
here, but a good version of the events can be read here.
Architect Brad Cloepfil was hired to adapt the building for
the 21st century. The marble
cladding was removed from the entire structure and replaced with windows and
ceramic panels. The interior was
redesigned as well. The lollypop columns
at ground level were kept, though now they are sheathed by glass panels.
Both the art collection and the museum are gone now,
relegated to the category of Cultural Ghosts.
Photographic evidence is all we have left to remember them by. Stone’s building design, which stood for
decades, appears in photos and films (people do occasionally make movies in New
York). Huntington Hartford didn’t make
out so well. He died mostly forgotten,
his art collection long dispersed. The
museum building held up much better, now silently joining the ranks of such
lost buildings as the venerated Penn Station.
It is gone, but not entirely forgotten.
Stay Puft Marshmallow Man included to show scale. |
Next week, some concluding thoughts as I wrap up another topic.