Modernists and fans of innovation may quibble with our recent defense of neo-classicism. It is
easy to criticize these buildings: they are outmoded, designed for people of
the average height in 1930, they signify an old, unjust power structure. To these critics, then, a more reasonable
example of a courthouse may be in Fort Lauderdale, where the courthouse lies
just south of the riverwalk and the famous Las Olas Boulevard.
Grayness of neo-classical marble may dissuade some; crowded, antiquated interiors
may infuriate, and dated designs may symbolize only inconvenience for many.
For
this author however, the Broward County courthouse, modern though it may be, is a
pathetic testament to the esteem in which we hold our justice system. Avoiding all descriptions of architectural
classification, consider the street view from the Southwest of the site:
Let's be honest: from this view, the courthouse resembles an abandoned tropical
self storage facility. The tiers above the top
floor, with their window spaces open to the sky, remind one of something out of
bombed-out Mogadishu, rather than a new, more equitable, modernity.
And for
the critics of neo-classicism who criticize the aging columns and marble which may turn
gray over time, consider the scorched-earth appearance of the upper
levels of this newer building. Is that mold? The remnants of a
fire? Whatever it is, it does not inspire me to some higher ideals of Western
civilization and justice of our peers.
Rather, with the palm trees in front, it reminds me only of the tropical
decay of a third world country.
Most
disconcerting, however, is the overall blandness of the design. Ask the stranger or tourist on the street: “What
is that building right there? Is it an office building? A warehouse?“ Whatever
your average third party might say, they surely would not quip “It is clearly a
public building, held in the highest esteem by the populace.” In fact, at least from the most commonly used entrance for civil matters, the Southwest side of the site, the
building almost completely blends in with its surroundings - despite the not as sleepy overall site design, seen at left.
And this failure to inspire from street level, in this critic’s opinion, is where the building’s design utterly fails. A courthouse is not an office building – it is supposed to stand for some higher values or ideals. Does an utterly non-descript building inspire anyone?
From the FAD blog, then, we issue a sound thumbs down to the Broward County Courthouse.
Definite thumbs down. Hit the nail on the head with "storage facility" comparison.
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