Every other morning this past fall, as I started a long walk from the East Wheelock cluster to my 10 a.m. class, I had a lovely, peaceful view of the center of campus. I first passed by the quaint, quintessentially New England Dartmouth Hall. The building’s simple yet timeless design reminds us of the College’s humble origins. I then made my way toward Rauner Special Collections Library, with its enormous columns and vast windows bringing grandeur to the Green. I passed by Baker Library, which stands as the centerpiece of Dartmouth’s campus, the perfect anchor. All of these buildings are positioned neatly, respecting the Green and their surroundings. The campus has structure, and it feels almost too perfect, like something you would see in a movie but would never find in real life.
As I passed around Berry Library, however, that ideal started to break apart. The building’s backside is a bland, imposing brick wall covered in rows of uneven windows. From there on, all order collapsed. As I walked past Kemeny Hall and Moore Hall, my surroundings began to feel less like a campus quad and more like a random assortment of buildings erected wherever they could fit. Eventually, before reaching my destination at the Class of 1978 Life Sciences Center, I made my way through the McLaughlin residential cluster. At this point, any sense of cinematic beauty and grandeur had been lost. I was surrounded by bland, soulless brick walls.
These stark contrasts reveal two eras in Dartmouth architecture: one when the College built beautifully, and this modern era, when it seems to have stopped caring.
The problem with these more modern additions is that they suffer from an identity crisis. They cannot decide what they’re trying to be and, as a result, appear half-baked. The brick-and-window facades of Berry, Moore, the McLaughlin cluster and the vast majority of buildings constructed from the 1950s onward are all clearly trying to blend in. They share a general red brick theme established by the older Georgian-style buildings so as not to create discontinuity.
Still, these newer buildings are trying to be modern and therefore do not bother committing to a level of detail anywhere near that of the older buildings. Berry, for example, has overly large windows and lacks the cornices and other smaller details which traditionally adorn classical buildings. Thus, these buildings neither provide continuity nor declare their modernity in a way that I find interesting. And they do no justice to Dartmouth as an institution or as a community of creative students.
The College needs to break out of this mindset of mediocrity. There is no need to spare any expense when we have Dartmouth’s institutional resources. If we desire continuity, we need buildings that accurately recreate the styles of the past and do justice to Dartmouth’s status as a historic institution. What I am suggesting is not unprecedented. Although Yale University constructed its Pauli Murray and Benjamin Franklin Colleges in 2017, they do an incredible job of recreating the collegiate gothic style of Yale’s Old Campus. Vanderbilt University has completed a similar project with its new residential colleges, replacing ugly towers with elegant gothic quads.
To give the College credit, Dartmouth has made some effort toward reviving classical styles, Fahey-McLane Hall being the primary example. The dorm complex stays true to the Georgian style of the buildings around it and is well-positioned along Tuck Drive. However, these dorms are exceptions to the rule, and they could still use more detail — such as the cornices and quoins present on the adjacent Russell Sage Hall — to make them truly appear classic and consistent with the surrounding buildings.
Yet pure continuity does not always have to be the goal. A beautiful campus does not have to exclusively consist of classically styled buildings. Dartmouth absolutely should build in modern styles, but it needs to do so carefully. The modern brick buildings that I mentioned earlier have the potential to be interesting if executed well — Kemeny and Irving are two of the better examples. However, when the College does opt for modern architecture, it should commit to exploring bolder styles that add to campus in unique ways rather than limiting itself in weak attempts to pay homage to the past. All the while, we need to take care to position such additions in a way that doesn’t disturb the continuity of the campus’s historic core.
Regardless of whether Dartmouth chooses the modern or the revivalist path when expanding its campus, there is one last thing to keep in mind: the College needs to overcome its fear of constructing bold, iconic buildings. Recent additions all seem scared to stand out in a good way. At best, they maintain the campus’ beauty, and at worst they degrade it. But none add to it in a substantial way. The new Yale and Vanderbilt quads both include striking towers that might soon become campus icons in their own right. Similarly, Dartmouth had a perfect opportunity to establish a new campus icon when it rebuilt Thayer in 2019. The engineering school’s location at the end of Tuck Drive, with a clear line of sight all the way to Baker, gives it serious weight. The College could have built something grand and revivalist to go along with Tuck Hall, or it could have built something boldly modern. Irving ended up being a fine addition, but it still feels underwhelming in both style and scale considering its location.
More bravery, creativity and respect for the past when expanding the campus can go a long way in helping Dartmouth grow as an institution and improve its image. A gorgeous campus environment can, in my view, bolster student morale. We would be remiss to waste such a unique natural setting on mediocre architecture. The College owes it to its creative and innovative students to build beautifully again.
Opinion articles represent the views of their author(s), which are not necessarily those of The Dartmouth.
