Of the seven years it took for me to complete my Ph.D., dear
reader, I spent six on or around the campus of Brandeis University, in Waltham,
Massachusetts. I can say many, many good
things about that university. I would
not have wanted to get my Ph.D. anywhere else.
There is one thing, however, that I can’t say. I can’t say it is a campus of beautiful
buildings. With a couple of exceptions,
Brandeis is a collection of mostly brick, mostly square, mostly post-World War
II, utilitarian buildings. Except for
“the castle,” a twentieth-century faux castle-turned-dormitory, I never wanted
to let my eyes linger on the built environment of that campus, as much as I
admired its rapid emergence as a great university after having been founded
only in 1948.
The University of Pécs, by contrast, mixes
humdrum buildings with beautiful ones.
There are enough of the latter for one to pause in one’s workday and
think: this is what a university town should look like. Not all of these buildings, mind you, belong
to the university. I have often been
told how European universities are more likely to be spread around a city while
American universities are usually collected onto one campus. Pécs is a good example of that. I work at the Faculty of Humanities, roughly
equivalent to a college of letters and sciences in the U.S.A. I have never seen, however, the main
administrative building, or the faculties of medicine, law, business,
education, or arts among others. These
are all scattered around the city. The
result of this is that the buildings of my faculty are closely surrounded by
non-university buildings, some of which are rather drab, but others of which
are quite something to look at. Here are
some examples from my walks to and from work each day.
Walking
to work each day is a pleasure. It’s
about fifteen minutes, and halfway through the walk, the towers of this
Catholic church swing into view. It is
called Heart of Jesus church and, for reasons I don’t yet fully know, the main
building of the (state-run) Faculty of Humanities is sort of wrapped around
three sides of the church. Once I see
the church towers, I know my office is close and I quicken my step.
This (to the right) is what it looks like when I’m
almost there. My office is in the
building to the right of the church, a maze-like building. It reminds me of M.I.T. in its rabbit warren
of hallways that you lead over long distances and to hundreds of offices and
classrooms. As lost as you get, though,
you can always find a window that looks out onto this church or the gardens
behind the building.
Here (above left) is
the main gate of the Faculty of Humanities, and here (right) is a view of the front
door of the maze-building, taken from a classroom building next door. Again, I say: this is what a university
should look like.
Going
back home, by the way, I can fix my eyes on the towers of yet another church: the
Catholic cathedral of Pécs: St. Peter’s Basilica. This cathedral is only about a block from my
wonderfully located apartment, so I know that these towers represent home. The walk along the way is also full of
communist-era apartment buildings, which have never been known for their
artistry and were never intended as a visual pleasure. Still, there is always some building in view
that is quite inspiring.
I
should add that I can even see these towers clearly from the men’s restroom
nearest my office. (See them there, in the picture to the left, in the center of the photo?) How’s that for a
perquisite?
Finally,
just for fun, here is a picture of the fifteenth-century or earlier castle gate
which is, quite literally, across the street from my apartment building.
In sum,
dear reader, I maintain that Brandeis gave me an excellent grounding in
history. And yet, I do so appreciate
elements of beauty in the buildings of a university. Let me leave you with these questions. Do beautiful buildings improve an educational
institution? How so?
Maybe beautiful buildings distract is from our work, and so harm the institution? I mean, rather than gazing at a far-distant cathedral when in the men's room, shouldn't you be doing deep thinking about colonial behaviors and how the seeds of our current cultural shortcomings were planted in the 17th and 18th centuries?
ReplyDeleteMore seriously, thoughtful interior design and functional interior spaces are more important for me, I think, than a beautiful exterior.
Don't forget, Nathan, about the creative moments one has daydreaming, or staring out the men's room window! I must say, I like Sage Hall for lots of reasons, but my view from the men's room is not one of them;)
ReplyDeleteWell, my Pecs building is a bit of a maze on the inside, even more so than Sage, but I like it a lot from the outside.