photo by Joanne Molina
With its nest of brushed stainless steel (that actually contains solar panels) and a star-chitectural pedigree, the Millennium Park band shell (Jay Pritzker Pavilion) is clearly one of Chicago’s inescapable monuments. But while Frank Gehry’s grandiose design demands the attention of the eye as well as the ear, another structure captures, in some ways more exceptionally, the vibrant and fluid cultural life of the once and future city. It’s the newer, and more temporal, Hadid Burnham Pavilion.
Small enough to be swallowed by its adjacent companion, Zaha Hadid and Patrik Schumacher’s pod-shaped commission for the Burnham Plan Centennial celebration is not a spectacle, but it is rather spectacular. “By using methods of overlaying, complexity is built up and inscribed in the structure,” Hadid has said, alluding to her computer-assisted propensity for designing sculptural forms. Tent-like, this pavilion offers refuge within an effervescent hollow shell of soft, tensile fabric that makes no attempt to hide the solid curves of its aluminum frame.
The graceful layers are only surpassed by Hadid’s thoughtful evocation of Burnham’s drawings for his 1909 Plan of Chicago. Noting how the diagonal streets of the city softened the strong grids of the plan, she uses her pavilion to mark where one of those diagonals would extend should it reach into Millennium Park. Echoes of that same plan are also suggested in carefully placed openings in the roof, and the angles that create the skeleton.
But the real show is inside. Thomas Gray’s multimedia installation projects onto the structure’s interior at various times of the day and night, creating fantastic moments of unexpected joy. A mélange of images and voices from Chicago’s diverse landscape, the pavilion’s interplay of architect, artist and city results in a metaphor that captures the evolving spirit of the metropolis. After dark, the exterior comes to life in a different way, transforming from a serene white nautilus to a luscious orb bathed in an orange, green or purple glow.
That this installation is but fleeting somehow seems appropriate. Visiting nomads might never notice that the pavilion is made of recyclable materials that can be dismantled and reinstalled after the Centennial. It’s nice to know , though, that Hadid’s sensitive structure has a way to escape the brasher loudmouth next door. Catch it before it disappears on Oct. 31, 2009. Information: http://tinyurl.com/pwxnu9.
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