Rose. Or, well the Rose Center, that is

Back in December, I posted this photo from the NYBG holiday train show - it's a model of the Rose Center and Hayden Planetarium made completely from plant material.


Last night, I passed the real thing, designed by James Polshek and built in 2000. Since my camera's been taking decent night photos - like the ones I took during the Wolf Moon - I thought I would post this.


Polshek says his intention was to build a 'cosmic cathedral.' I'd say he succeeded. Last night it was particularly beautiful, the orb glowing blue in the snowy park that surrounds it. What's more, the planetarium doesn't mar the integrity of the adjacent building, which houses the rest of the American Museum of Natural History. When you encounter the original structure on Central Park West, built by Jacob Wrey Mould and Central Park architect Calvert Vaux, you don't really notice Polshek's addition*, nor the marked contrast of the 133 years that separate the structures. It's not until you turn the corner on 81st Street that you are wowed by Polshek's design.


*Technically, the Polshek's design was not an addition but a renovation of a pre-existing planetarium.  Technically the building is in fact an addition not a renovation. The original planetarium was built in the 1930s and demolished. The design was created by Todd Schliemann and James Polshek of Polshek Partnership.

Thom Mayne's Cooper Union Building

I have (very reasonably, I think) veered from too much architecture on this site. There's no dearth of architectural criticism (snarchitecture?) on the web and I don't feel like there's much I can add to those dialogues. Though really, check out From Our House to Bauhaus - it's a fun read.

All of that said, I cannot resist posting two photos of Thom Mayne's Cooper Union Building. If my many posts about Liz Christy Gardens haven't indicated it clearly enough, for the past few years I have been living in the East Village and the Lower East Side. Longtime readers will remember I had to leave my LES apartment in December '08 due to a fire. Since then I've been in the East Village, just a few blocks away from this building.



The fact that I walk by this building on a regular basis probably accounts for why I love it so much. Perhaps if I had only seen it once or twice, I'd feel differently. But the thing I have discovered about this building in the course of my quitodian walks by it, is how much the building responds to the light. On sunny days it sparkles, on cloudy days it almost blends into the atmosphere. It's remarkable, and if you live in the city I encourage you to walk by it in all kinds of weather -- it's like an architectural mood ring. (Yes, somewhere Herbert Muschamp is rolling over in his grave.)




Since I've already invoked tacky 70's fashion fads, I suppose I should just go all-out and say that I also like this building because I can practically see the hovercars whiz by it, fifty years from now. I'm not much for sci-fi movies, but I was arrested by the tableaus in Minority Report, since the mix of old and new architecture seemed to realistically capture what may lie ahead. Seeing this building, just across the street from its 1858 predecessor, gives one a great view of our possible future as well as our past.