Few occasions have brought me to the Atrium in Druckenmiller Hall. Every so often a meeting will call for a stroll through or above it, and I have vague memories of once standing atop a bench there while watching an Improvabilities show. The longest period of time I've spent in the Atrium was during the week I used it as a subject for a Drawing I project. Each time I enter into the Druck Atrium, I feel a pang of sadness for not spending more time in what strikes me as a beautiful space.
This column is a perfect outlet for praising the places that I have always loved and critiquing those that have never agreed with me, it also provides an opportunity to unpack spaces with which I don't have a strong relationship (yet).
Maybe the most significant element of the Atrium is the fact that its square shape shares two sides with what was previously a building's exterior. The brick walls belong to Cleaveland Hall, finished in 1952. (Cleaveland is one of many McKim, Mead and White buildings on campus—the most well-known being the Walker Art Museum). The newer faces of the Atrium constitute the interior of Druckenmiller itself; in fact, Druckenmiller was pitched as being a "square donut" before its completion in 1997. The hole of the donut is the Atrium itself, surrounded on all four sides by corridors. I find the fact that the Atrium is where two buildings meet to be very special. The structures that most often connect buildings are hallways, not places where you can sit in a relatively expansive space.
The amount of light in the Druck Atrium does not go unnoticed, either. Whenever I walk through the space, I'm reminded of a similar geometric series of skylights that puncture a vast indoor mall from my hometown. In both of these places, the feeling of exiting and makes the Atrium an appealing place to work. With the exception of the shelter it provides from the cold or from an unexpected snowstorm, it's not quite apparent whether you are truly outside or inside.
Even the decoration of the Atrium plays with the contrast of indoor and outdoor elements. The combination of colorful, science-inspired banners on the walls of Druck remind us that we are inside, especially when coupled with the room's plush area rugs. The green metal structures that line the opposing brick wall are left uncovered, and suggest a solidity that matches what you might find outdoors. The large, leafy, palm-like trees contribute to this atmosphere (though, being in Maine, they are seriously outside their natural habitat).
The more I study the Druck Atrium, the more it appeals to me as a place to frequent. The one downside, it seems, is its location in a somewhat removed corner of campus. But maybe this too, is key in what makes the space so successful: The Atrium is one of the quietest spots to work.
Given the size of the space, there are certain expectations for the noise level in the Druck Atrium. Choosing to work there, then, requires a unspoken agreement to be quieter than one would in Hawthorne-Longfellow Library or Smith Union. What seems most attractive about the space, however, is the power of the architecture to avoid strict definition.
The Atrium is perhaps best described as an indoor courtyard, but even this phrase is in some ways a misnomer. This is not a space where people necessarily congregate to talk, but it's also unfortunate that for some, it merely provides a passageway from one corner of the sciences to another. If nothing else, the Atrium lets us exist in a space between the classroom and the campus, even in inclement weather. Here's to turning a new leaf with the Druck Atrium.