David Lenox spends his days keeping the peace between century-old structures and the new bricks on the block. “I see campus as a family of buildings,” says Lenox, the university architect and executive director of campus planning. Nearly all structures share a few core traits—including a warm color palette, meticulous design, and connection to the landscape—but that doesn’t mean the Farm is overrun with sandstone arches. The newer generations have traits of their own. (Young’uns and their newfangled limestone, am I right?) Still, when visitors come to Stanford, “they look around and feel something’s holding it together architecturally,” Lenox says.
David Lenox (Photo: Linda A. Cicero/Stanford News Service)
Coursing through campus is the vision that began with Frederick Law Olmsted, a prolific landscape architect who also co-designed New York City’s Central Park. His belief that structures should exist in harmony with natural surroundings heavily influenced the first blueprints for Stanford, which echoed Romanesque design and California’s mission style. Not every building on campus lives up to its lofty forebears, but the diversity is a strength in Lenox’s eyes. “There are some schools where everything matches. There are others where nothing matches. We like everything to be bonded but not exactly the same,” he says. “That would be kind of boring after a while.” After all, a family is made up of individuals—thrifty moms, spunky uncles, and all.
The Model Grandparents
Photo: Special Collections & University Archives, Stanford University Libraries
Main Quad
The buildings of the Inner Quad may be turning 133 this year, but they’re more silver fox than old fart. (Don’t worry—those gray patches on the north-facing roofs are biological growth, and a quick rinse will make the red shingles sparkle like it’s 1899.) Though Olmsted originally envisioned the university nestled in the Foothills, the Stanfords insisted the campus be down on the plain. They also wanted it to have the axial symmetry and monumentality of architecture they’d admired on their frequent visits to Europe. The result was a sprawling, 17-acre Main Quad, far larger and grander than those typical of universities on the East Coast and in England. What can we say? Grandpa and grandma always were trendsetters. They were also green, more than a century before LEED certification. The Inner Quad “was very sustainable at the time it was built,” Lenox says. The rounded arches and the exteriors used locally sourced sandstone. The wood-ceilinged arcades provided shade along thick walls with sunken windows, features that naturally insulated the one-story buildings from weather. The red clay tile roofs, in all their majesty, came from a California sewer pipe manufacturer. Over the past century, the columns have begun to crumble, and some of the stone has been replaced with cast concrete, but what aging relative doesn’t show signs of a life well lived? The birth of the Inner Quad in 1891 marked the opening of the university, and it set the tone for nearly every building that followed.
Encina Hall
Photo: Special Collections & University Archives, Stanford University Libraries
No expense was spared on Encina Hall, which opened on October 1, 1891. The four-story rusticated sandstone residential hall was tricked out with running water and electricity Photo: Special Collections & University Archives, Stanford University Libraries at the then-colossal cost of $477,000. Ever the extravagant elder, it was seismically retrofitted more than 100 years later to the tune of $27 million.
The Thrifty, Stylish Mom
Photo: Sheldon Breiner/Stanford Special Collections & University Archives, Stanford University Libraries
Lagunita Court
Lagunita Court is the aesthetic queen of Santa Teresa Street. Built in the 1930s, when funds were scarce, Lagunita expresses a humbler form of the Main Quad’s grandeur, with a graceful sensibility. There’s no sandstone in the court—it was too expensive at the time—but you hardly notice its stand-in, stucco, beneath the decorative flair: muntin windows, a delicate wooden colonnade, and a shady, symmetrical courtyard with a half-moon fountain. One splurge: the roofing. The clay tile was expensive, but with a 100-year lifespan, it was an investment in both strength and beauty. And still today, the court is well tended. “It’s a good example of Stanford stewardship and respect for their older buildings,” says Lenox. Lagunita and her sister structures—Roble Gym and Toyon Hall—form a popular clique. “Not too many people on the entire campus would say they didn’t like these buildings,” says Lenox.
Toyon Hall and Roble Gym
Photo: Linda A. Cicero/Stanford News Service (2)
Rounding out the sorority of style, Toyon Hall and Roble Gym boast the same Spanish Colonial flair as Lagunita Court. Built in 1923 and 1931 respectively, the buildings aim to comfort, with a residential (i.e., smaller) scale and what Lenox calls a “precious” design approach, replete with colonnades that reference the arcades of the Main Quad, verdant courtyards, and elegant common rooms.
The Stoic Dad
Photo: Nancy Rothstein
Durand
A hunky chunk of concrete and steel, Durand is the yang to Lagunita’s yin. Like many buildings of the 1960s, Durand was designed during the postwar boom, when frills were abandoned for function. There’s an air of stubbornness in the overbearing walls and columns. “They’re big, heavy buildings. They’re hard to renovate,” says Lenox. Whether you love or hate the austerity, Durand and its concrete brethren on campus are here to stay, because the hulking behemoths don’t take kindly to conflict—tearing down and disposing of Durand would add to its already-hefty carbon footprint. In such cases, Lenox often focuses on renovating the interiors. Dad may never be as retro-chic as Mom, but it’s what’s on the inside that counts.
Crown Quadrangle
Photo: Linda A. Cicero/Stanford News Service
The 2011 William H. Neukom Building may get all the credit for bringing Stanford Law School into modernity, but it was Crown Quadrangle, opened in 1975, that got it out of hand-me-downs. With the completion of its fractured exposed concrete façade—which took two years to hand-chisel—the Law School was able to consolidate from borrowed rooms as far-flung as engineering buildings, Encina Hall, and the chapel.
The Unflinching Uncle
Photo: Sheldon Breiner/Stanford Special Collections & University Archives, Stanford University Libraries
Packard
The David Packard Electrical Engineering building has a strong point of view. Its triangular atrium, like a great moral compass, is aimed steadfastly toward the entrance to the Science and Engineering Quad. The 1999 building is part of a complex “originally called the SEQ I,” Lenox says, “the forerunner to the SEQ.” Along with the William H. Hewlett Teaching Center, the Packard building forms the gateway to the SEQ, with its see-through prow giving passers-by a peek into the hustle and bustle of engineering research. Despite the building’s impulse to dispense directional guidance, it’s not one to follow orders from elders. Packard departs from the shape and materials of other members of the campus clan, forgoing rounded arches and sandstone in favor of the soaring atrium, silvery aluminum siding, and all that glass. It may be biased toward the techie side of campus, but at least it’s transparent about it.
The Future-focused Quadruplets
Photo: Joel Simon/School of Engineering
SEQ
The Science and Engineering Quad, completed in 2014, was designed to give the kids some space. Older, smaller structures made way for the new: “We replaced 149,000 square feet with 629,000 square feet,” Lenox says. Not only is SEQ more land-efficient than its forebears, it’s also stronger. “In 100 years, these buildings probably will have been gutted and renovated three times,” he says—but they’ll still be standing, unlike some 1970s buildings on campus that have already come down. The SEQ’s modern construction technique puts thin layers of limestone on a precast concrete wall on top of steel. The clay tile roofs are raised to facilitate airflow, and they sport solar panels (all the cool kids have them). It may seem like excessive family planning, but, Lenox says, “my job is to create a framework,” and he has expert guidance. He already knows where the next quad will go, because Olmsted’s plan laid the groundwork.
LKSC
Photo: Wikimedia
The Li Ka Shing Center for Learning and Knowledge, completed in 2008, is the extroverted, health-conscious cousin. Intended as the “front door” of the Medical School, LKSC takes up more space; its floating roof projects farther out; and it faces visitors more prominently than its medical brethren.
The Artsy Little Sister
Photo: Linda A. Cicero/Stanford News Service
McMurtry
If the McMurtry Building for Art and Art History had ears, it might have cut one off in a flare of passion. This bold, free-spirited individualist stands out with two interlocking wings that slant and twist at irregular angles. While the 2015 building was designed to embody creativity, it didn’t leave the gene pool of the Main Quad. “It was important that it still blended in, even though it was very uniquely sculptural,” says Lenox. One wing is clad in patinated zinc, but the zinc is a shingle material carefully chosen to tie into Stanford’s clay tile roofs. The other wing, in a quieter stucco, almost perfectly matches the Cantor Arts Center’s southwestern wing, next door. From above, the wings appear to embrace each other, the old and new in harmony.
What’s your favorite building on campus? |
Kali Shiloh is a staff writer at Stanford. Email her at kshiloh@stanford.edu.
