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The Two Sides of Disney Hall
First Impressions Yield Mixed Results
by Sam Hall Kaplan
You can almost hear the orchestra members tuning their instruments, smell the perfume of an opening night crowd, sense the excitement, and feel the building huff and puff with pride.
Though still three months off, Oct. 23 to be exact, news and views of Frank Gehry's long-awaited design of the Walt Disney Concert Hall are appearing everywhere.
Among the early comments from out-of-town architecture writers: "A stainless steel masterwork," "an exuberant pile of twisting steel encasing public spaces of generosity and wit," and simply "Bilbao Two," a reference to the similar-styled museum that lent Gehry star architect status several years ago and gave new life to the gritty city in northern Spain.
To date only the privileged, the patrons and select members of the media have been allowed to pad through the Downtown structure, and fewer still have listened to the orchestra test the acoustics. Apparently they passed the test, at least according to a fawning few who you have to wonder might have traded acumen for access.
As for the public, they are still being held at bay, their noses pressed against the peekaboo glass facade on Grand Avenue. Tourists are directed by officious guards to the south side of the street to snap photos.
Think then of the unveiling of the $274 million swirling indulgence as more like a slow striptease to a well tuned and composed chamber orchestra conducted by a cadre of skilled publicists. You can't be too cautious when lots of reputations and money are at stake.
To be fair to all interested and involved in Disney Hall, a proper review of such a conceit critical to the future of the Central City as a cultural nexus should await the true test of public use. That includes experiencing the crush of crowds attending performances in the main auditorium and in the two outdoor amphitheaters, and looking in on the multi-use theater and art gallery.
Also on my critical matrix: sitting down for a meal at the restaurant, grabbing a cup of coffee in the cafe, mingling among the masses in the hall or meandering in the adjoining gardens.
But given the increasing comments of others, having personally watched the challenging, convoluted construction of the hall for the past several years, and having toured its interior, some first impressions are in order.
Think of this critique as an overture.
From a distance, the concert hall fulfills its promise as a singular icon for Downtown, and L.A. Its billowing shape attracts the eye and holds it. Though the cladding is stainless steel, and the structure static, the design conveys movement, an exciting concept for any architectural exercise.
Whether meant to be a boat at full sail, a flower in bloom or an unfolding artichoke, the building shimmering in a shifting light is alluring.
With its emphasis appearing to be more on form than function, the Hall as a design springing from the idiosyncratic vision of the 74-year-old acclaimed architect must also be viewed as a sculptural exercise.
The resulting computer-aided sculpture appears to be more in the spirit of a kinetic composition of Calder, rather than, say, a raw, rooted imposition by Serra, one of Gehry's artist pals.
An up-close view of the hall from the adjoining streets and sidewalks leaves little doubt that it is a Gehry concoction. It's also a disappointment. His buildings from afar may twirl, but up close they are flat-footed, and not particularly pedestrian friendly. Urban design is not Frank's forte.
The First Street north frontage consists of a forbidding wall edging the sidewalks and is more appropriate to a minimum security prison than a public building. It cries for views, places to sit, landscaping and art.
The Grand Avenue south frontage is somewhat friendlier, thanks in part to the afterthought of streetscaping now in the throes of construction and hinting at inviting people places. As for the entry, nothing special here, like there is with the steps of the Sydney Opera House.
The interior is another kettle of fish, to use a popular Gehry image. The reception hall and foyer are bathed in light, attractive transitions to the Hall's centerpiece -- a 2,265-seat main auditorium. This is the building's soul, and it's where Gehry's design both embraces and soars. It is intimate yet grand. The effect is a singular, memorable space.
The so-called "vineyard" shape of the interior wrapping the orchestra platform, staggered seating, hardwood wall and ceiling, the backdrop of natural light, the colorful, comfortable seats, and the varied sight lines, all promise a captivating concert experience. And I love the spiky organ.
But this as well as the more modest spaces and landscapes scattered in and about the hall must await the madding crowds, and the music, for a more considered judgment.
So stay tuned for further adventures on Bunker Hill, starring Disney Hall as the architectural provocateur and the L.A. Philharmonic as the willing maiden.
Kaplan is an Emmy Award-winning reporter for Fox 11 News and the author of L.A. Lost & Found. His City Observed commentaries can be heard on KCRW, 89.9 FM. This piece is excerpted from one of those commentaries.
(page 1, 07/21/03)
Reprinting items retrieved from the archives are for personal use only. They may not be reproduced or retransmitted without permission. If you would like to re-distribute anything from the Archives, please call our permissions department at (213) 481-1448.
by Sam Hall Kaplan
You can almost hear the orchestra members tuning their instruments, smell the perfume of an opening night crowd, sense the excitement, and feel the building huff and puff with pride.
Though still three months off, Oct. 23 to be exact, news and views of Frank Gehry's long-awaited design of the Walt Disney Concert Hall are appearing everywhere.
Among the early comments from out-of-town architecture writers: "A stainless steel masterwork," "an exuberant pile of twisting steel encasing public spaces of generosity and wit," and simply "Bilbao Two," a reference to the similar-styled museum that lent Gehry star architect status several years ago and gave new life to the gritty city in northern Spain.
To date only the privileged, the patrons and select members of the media have been allowed to pad through the Downtown structure, and fewer still have listened to the orchestra test the acoustics. Apparently they passed the test, at least according to a fawning few who you have to wonder might have traded acumen for access.
As for the public, they are still being held at bay, their noses pressed against the peekaboo glass facade on Grand Avenue. Tourists are directed by officious guards to the south side of the street to snap photos.
Think then of the unveiling of the $274 million swirling indulgence as more like a slow striptease to a well tuned and composed chamber orchestra conducted by a cadre of skilled publicists. You can't be too cautious when lots of reputations and money are at stake.
To be fair to all interested and involved in Disney Hall, a proper review of such a conceit critical to the future of the Central City as a cultural nexus should await the true test of public use. That includes experiencing the crush of crowds attending performances in the main auditorium and in the two outdoor amphitheaters, and looking in on the multi-use theater and art gallery.
Also on my critical matrix: sitting down for a meal at the restaurant, grabbing a cup of coffee in the cafe, mingling among the masses in the hall or meandering in the adjoining gardens.
But given the increasing comments of others, having personally watched the challenging, convoluted construction of the hall for the past several years, and having toured its interior, some first impressions are in order.
Think of this critique as an overture.
From a distance, the concert hall fulfills its promise as a singular icon for Downtown, and L.A. Its billowing shape attracts the eye and holds it. Though the cladding is stainless steel, and the structure static, the design conveys movement, an exciting concept for any architectural exercise.
Whether meant to be a boat at full sail, a flower in bloom or an unfolding artichoke, the building shimmering in a shifting light is alluring.
With its emphasis appearing to be more on form than function, the Hall as a design springing from the idiosyncratic vision of the 74-year-old acclaimed architect must also be viewed as a sculptural exercise.
The resulting computer-aided sculpture appears to be more in the spirit of a kinetic composition of Calder, rather than, say, a raw, rooted imposition by Serra, one of Gehry's artist pals.
An up-close view of the hall from the adjoining streets and sidewalks leaves little doubt that it is a Gehry concoction. It's also a disappointment. His buildings from afar may twirl, but up close they are flat-footed, and not particularly pedestrian friendly. Urban design is not Frank's forte.
The First Street north frontage consists of a forbidding wall edging the sidewalks and is more appropriate to a minimum security prison than a public building. It cries for views, places to sit, landscaping and art.
The Grand Avenue south frontage is somewhat friendlier, thanks in part to the afterthought of streetscaping now in the throes of construction and hinting at inviting people places. As for the entry, nothing special here, like there is with the steps of the Sydney Opera House.
The interior is another kettle of fish, to use a popular Gehry image. The reception hall and foyer are bathed in light, attractive transitions to the Hall's centerpiece -- a 2,265-seat main auditorium. This is the building's soul, and it's where Gehry's design both embraces and soars. It is intimate yet grand. The effect is a singular, memorable space.
The so-called "vineyard" shape of the interior wrapping the orchestra platform, staggered seating, hardwood wall and ceiling, the backdrop of natural light, the colorful, comfortable seats, and the varied sight lines, all promise a captivating concert experience. And I love the spiky organ.
But this as well as the more modest spaces and landscapes scattered in and about the hall must await the madding crowds, and the music, for a more considered judgment.
So stay tuned for further adventures on Bunker Hill, starring Disney Hall as the architectural provocateur and the L.A. Philharmonic as the willing maiden.
Kaplan is an Emmy Award-winning reporter for Fox 11 News and the author of L.A. Lost & Found. His City Observed commentaries can be heard on KCRW, 89.9 FM. This piece is excerpted from one of those commentaries.
(page 1, 07/21/03)
Reprinting items retrieved from the archives are for personal use only. They may not be reproduced or retransmitted without permission. If you would like to re-distribute anything from the Archives, please call our permissions department at (213) 481-1448.
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