Friday, September 11, 2026

What Fresh Hell is This? Stern vs. Atwood at the Museum of Science and Industry




 No debate.  No real public input.

On Friday, the Chicago Department of Planning and Development went on social media to reveal plans, with a grand total of four - count 'em, four! - cheap-looking renderings that look like they were generated in AI "skimp on the tokens" mode - of the Peter Griffin Museum of Science and Industry's intent to completely redo its main northern entrance.


The design, from Robert A.M. Stern Architects, which gave us all those ham-fisted advertising kiosks masquerading as bus shelters, is intrusive and dispiriting.  The current pair of squat, graceless entrance pavilions at least have the decency not to obscure the view of the great stair and grand classical facade - they're on either side of it.  The Stern rehab envisages a massive berm all along the driveway, centered with an even more massive new glass entrance that seems to stretch all the way to the grand stair itself, which is cut in two, with a new entrance carved into the middle.


A key takeaway is that the four renderings - deliberately? - are inadequate to providing a full and accurate picture of the scope, character, and details of the construction.  What appears to be the case is that visitors would now enter a big glass barn, only to be funneled into another big barn, a/k/a the current great entry hall for ticketing, where it seems (again, unclear in the rendering) it's only bit of character - those shiny-thing giant columns - may be replaced by what can only be described as dying-shopping-mall whitewall.


Also unclear is the actual circulation.  The rendering shows the new entry promenade leading directly at street level to that new entrance cut into the stairs, but the ticketing hall is below street level.  How do visitors get down there?  Same as now?  Something different? The renderings offer no clue, but the design of that transition is as important as anything else.

You can see how this proposal addresses a real problem.  For its first half-century, when admission was free, the grand entrance was the grand entrance.   You climbed up the great staircase (little consideration for disabled access in those days), hopefully took a glance back at the great view of the grand buildings of Hyde Park across the street, and passed through the great bronze doors into Alfred P. Shaw's stunning Art Deco stairway entrance, leading directly to ticketing and the museum's great central hall.  


When the unsightly, sprawling front surface parking and entrance hall were moved underground in the late 1990s, the entrance from the driveway became those ugly twin entrance pavilions, which lead to a series of not especially graceful escalators, stairways and elevators with a POMO vibe.  The redesign looks to streamline that procession, a laudable goal.  The execution is another story.


This ain't no I.M. Pei Louvre Pyramid, where his radical structure is given room to breath in the middle of a plaza, allowing the classical facades around it to survive unscathed. 

By Hteink.min - commons:File:Louvre Pyramid.jpg, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?curid=38292385

This is a self-aggrandizing obstruction, deliberately upstaging and deprecating the classic entrance facade that has been a Chicago landmark all the way back to the days of the 1893 Columbian Exposition.  If it has really become an anachronistic obstacle, tear it down and create something spectacular truly worthy of Chicago's great architectural tradition; we'll still have classicism in the soon-to-be restored south portico.  Just be honest about it.  Don't try to sneak it in the back door with a mediocre, dominance-seeking redesign of the front door.


And that's what may be most dispiriting about this whole thing - it smacks of trying to pull a fast one, with renderings released only after the Landmarks Commission Permit Review committee gave the project is rubber stamp.  Did they know they were dealing with a turkey, but realize it's the norm that the powerful usually get a free pass?


It's too big.  It's too stupid.  It's too arrogant.  Respect Charles Atwood's original architectural vision. Cut it back to a truly complementary glass entry pavilion stretching from driveway to grand stair that's low and only as wide as the pathway to the staircase. Let the spectacle begin on the inside.  "Less is More" + "First, do no harm" - remember?

###




Monday, September 07, 2026

Jumpers


 A visit to Montrose Beach is my Labor Day tradition, starting at the Montrose Dog Beach, then on to the Montrose People Beach, watch a little volleyball, hit the Montrose Beach Dunes Natural Area and the Montrose Point Bird Sanctuary for a bit of shade, and ending the afternoon at the Breakwater rocks, which today had the population of a small city. Far more improv than the beach proper, free from the strictures of lifeguards yelling that you can't have floaties, watermelon-fashioned or otherwise, in the water. They disappear tomorrow anyway, as Chicago's beaches are, officially, closed after Labor Day.


The cautious gingerly climb down the ladders into the lake, while others, more adventurous, transform the usually metaphoric - and hostile - admonition, "Go jump in the lake," into something literal, bracing, and joyous.  The last day of summer felt like something you never wanted to end.



















###





A Personal Tradition: Observing Labor Day with a Trip to Montrose Dog Beach

 For me, the first stop each Labor Day, the last official day of summer, is a trip to Montrose Dog Beach.












The Great Divide




Monday, August 24, 2026

Mr. Becker Goes to Springfield: The Old State Capitol


 I arrived in Springfield to see my first State Fair, but first I did a walkaround of the city's compact downtown.

When made a state in 1818, the Mississippi River town of Kaskaskia was the first state capitol, but persistent flooding resulted in a move north to Vandalia in 1820.  The rapid growth of the state created a push to move even further north, and in 1833 State Rep. Abraham Lincoln and a cadre of similarly over-heighted comrades known as the Long Nine led the successful push to have voters make Springfield the victorious choice, against four other alternatives, to become the next Illinois capitol, in 1839.

The building pictured here, was completed by architect John Francis Rague in 1840, using yellow limestone from nearby Crow's Mill. It originally held the whole of state government - legislative, executive, judicial - which sufficed only until 1876, when the structure became the Sangamon County Courthouse, undergoing massively transformative renovations for almost a century.


In the late 1960's, in a project championed by then governor Otto Kerner, the entire building was disassembled "piece by piece" to make way for an underground parking garage,,,

photograph: Sangamon Valley Collection

...and then re-assembled in for the form we see today, interiors recreated, after a massive research effort, to mirror as much as possible their original state, when Lincoln argued cases before the Illinois Supreme Court and delivered his "House Divided" speech as a legislator.  You can read a fascinating account of the story here.














Meanwhile, across the street, Mary adjusts Abe's coat. 

Springfield's Lincoln sculpture, Larry Anderson, 2004