[ed. Looks like some kind of super-collider to me.]
by Paul Goldberger
I don’t usually go in for reviews of buildings that aren’t yet built, since you can tell only so much from drawings and plans, and, besides, has there ever been a building that didn’t look great as a model? Still, it’s hard not to comment on the new headquarters that Apple plans to build in Cupertino, California.
With Apple’s characteristic secrecy, the company hasn’t officially released the design, or announced that the architect is Foster + Partners, the London-based firm known for its super-sleek, elegant, exquisitely detailed buildings. But images of Apple’s future home, to be built on a campus that it has taken over from Hewlett-Packard, are all over the place, because plans must be presented to the local authorities in Cupertino, who understandably are falling all over themselves with delight. Foster may be the best large architectural practice around today, a firm that has done remarkably well at maintaining quality even as it produces more enormous corporate, institutional, and civic buildings all over the world. The finesse of Foster’s modernism would seem a natural fit with Apple, which produces the best-designed consumer products of our time, and which has done more than any other company to inject sophisticated modern design into the mass market.
Foster has proposed a gargantuan glass-and-metal ring, four stories high, with a hole in the middle a third of a mile wide. The building, which will house upwards of twelve thousand employees, will have a circumference of a mile, and will be so huge that you won’t really be able to perceive its shape, except from the air. Like everything Foster does, it will be sleek and impeccably detailed, but who wants to work in a gigantic donut? Steve Jobs, speaking to the Cupertino City Council, likened the building to a spaceship. But buildings aren’t spaceships, any more than they are iPhones.
So why is Foster’s design troubling, maybe even a bit scary? The genius of the iPhone, MacBook, iPad, and other Apple products is that they are tools that function well and happen to be breathtakingly beautiful. (Last year, I wrote about the design for the new Apple store on the Upper West Side.) A building is also a tool, but of a very different sort. In architecture, scale—the size of various parts of a building in proportion to one another and to the size of human beings—counts for a lot. With this building, there seems to be very little sense of any connection to human size. Flexibility is a hallmark of the iPad, and it counts in architecture, too, but how much flexibility is there in a vast office governed entirely by geometry? For all of Foster’s sleekness, this Apple building seems more like a twenty-first-century version of the Pentagon.
Read more:
by Paul Goldberger
I don’t usually go in for reviews of buildings that aren’t yet built, since you can tell only so much from drawings and plans, and, besides, has there ever been a building that didn’t look great as a model? Still, it’s hard not to comment on the new headquarters that Apple plans to build in Cupertino, California.
With Apple’s characteristic secrecy, the company hasn’t officially released the design, or announced that the architect is Foster + Partners, the London-based firm known for its super-sleek, elegant, exquisitely detailed buildings. But images of Apple’s future home, to be built on a campus that it has taken over from Hewlett-Packard, are all over the place, because plans must be presented to the local authorities in Cupertino, who understandably are falling all over themselves with delight. Foster may be the best large architectural practice around today, a firm that has done remarkably well at maintaining quality even as it produces more enormous corporate, institutional, and civic buildings all over the world. The finesse of Foster’s modernism would seem a natural fit with Apple, which produces the best-designed consumer products of our time, and which has done more than any other company to inject sophisticated modern design into the mass market. Foster has proposed a gargantuan glass-and-metal ring, four stories high, with a hole in the middle a third of a mile wide. The building, which will house upwards of twelve thousand employees, will have a circumference of a mile, and will be so huge that you won’t really be able to perceive its shape, except from the air. Like everything Foster does, it will be sleek and impeccably detailed, but who wants to work in a gigantic donut? Steve Jobs, speaking to the Cupertino City Council, likened the building to a spaceship. But buildings aren’t spaceships, any more than they are iPhones.
So why is Foster’s design troubling, maybe even a bit scary? The genius of the iPhone, MacBook, iPad, and other Apple products is that they are tools that function well and happen to be breathtakingly beautiful. (Last year, I wrote about the design for the new Apple store on the Upper West Side.) A building is also a tool, but of a very different sort. In architecture, scale—the size of various parts of a building in proportion to one another and to the size of human beings—counts for a lot. With this building, there seems to be very little sense of any connection to human size. Flexibility is a hallmark of the iPad, and it counts in architecture, too, but how much flexibility is there in a vast office governed entirely by geometry? For all of Foster’s sleekness, this Apple building seems more like a twenty-first-century version of the Pentagon.
Read more:
