By ALEXANDRA GILL

The Globe and Mail - Canada's National Newspaper
Tuesday, July 16, 2002 Print Edition, Page R1
TACOMA, WASH.

Arthur Erickson has nothing to say -- a first so far today.

We are at the press preview for the Museum of Glass and International Center for Contemporary Art, a $48-million (U.S.) facility designed by the Vancouver-based architect and unveiled to the public on July 6. A writer for Wallpaper* magazine, one of hundreds of journalists checking out the new centre, has dragged the chief architect to the parking-lot elevator, a glass creation that looks not unlike the elevator in the Waterfall Building, Erickson's acclaimed work-live studio space near Vancouver's Granville Island. And he wants Erickson to tell him if there are any distinguishable differences between the two.

The journalist seems sincere -- but there is an irony here that is not lost on Erickson. Other than the Museum of Glass's windows, and a bronze-and-glass sculpture called Water Forest Fountain by Howard Ben Tre, the elevator is the only permanent glass fixture in this museum supposedly dedicated to the medium.

Ever an enthusiast of the elegant possibilities of glass, Erickson hangs his head and sighs. Clearly he would have welcomed the opportunity to sculpt more glass -- an expensive proposition -- into his latest monument to modernism. But it wasn't to be. "I have always said that to be in this profession, you have to be prepared to be beaten down and trod upon," he finally says. "To quote Philip Johnson, 'You have to be a whore.' "

Several reporters gasp. "You've created a fabulous building here," one insists. Erickson accepts the compliment graciously. "Thank you. I think I have, too."

Only Frank Gehry vies with Arthur Erickson for the title of Canada's most celebrated architect. A winner of the American Institute of Architects' Gold Medal, his canon -- which includes the University of British Columbia's glass-wrapped Museum of Anthropology and the Canadian Chancery in Washington, D.C. -- is renowned for its simplicity and sensitivity to setting.

Erickson is also known, perhaps unfairly, for sacrificing function to form, a shortcoming that has bubbled to a boil with the fuss over renovations to Toronto's Roy Thomson Hall, aimed at improving its long-maligned acoustics.

The Museum of Glass is a classic example of Erickson's strengths and weaknesses. The 75,000-square-foot concrete building, nestled low to the ground on Tacoma's Thea Foss Waterway, is expected to become a key component of this gritty seaport's reinvention as a cultural destination. To symbolize the fiery sparks of revitalization, Erickson has anchored the museum with a magnificent, 27-metre stainless-steel cone that is both functional and iconic.

The Leaning Tower of Hothouse, as the locals have christened it, houses a working hot shop and amphitheatre. Inspired by the wood-burning sawmills that once dotted the Pacific Northwest, the inverted cone erupts through the museum's grand hall and rises from the outdoor rooftop plaza on a 17-degree tilt. Sheathed in 2,300 diamond-shaped stainless-steel shingles, which took a year to tile by hand, the sleek cone shimmers over the waterfront like a beacon of hope.

Hope, that is, for the city officials who gambled more than $24-million in property and cleanup costs to start reclaiming the Thea Foss Waterway, a formerly barren strip of toxic tideland blighted by arsenic-tainted soil. The museum straddles a new waterfront esplanade and will be linked to the city's burgeoning downtown arts district by the $12-million Dale Chihuly Bridge of Glass. The 150-metre pedestrian passageway contains three permanent outdoor installations by Tacoma's world-famous glass artist: a wall of Venetian-glass sculptures; a glass-ceilinged pavilion filled with brightly coloured blown-glass shell shapes; and two flamboyant crystal towers that rise 12 metres from the bridge's centre deck like rock-sugar swizzle sticks.

Across the bridge is a quaint community of historic brick buildings, already occupied by the Washington State History Museum, a performing-arts centre and antique shops. Later this summer, the ground will be broken for a new convention centre and the Pioneer Museum of Motorcycles. Next May, the new home of the Tacoma Art Museum will open its doors. And currently in the development stage is a 10-storey car museum.

The centrepiece Museum of Glass -- which was executed in collaboration with Nick Milkovich Architects of Vancouver, in close consultation with project designer Wyn Bielaska -- echoes several of Erickson's trademark elements. The grand staircase and switchback ramps are reminiscent of Vancouver's Law Courts. And the low, linear outdoor plaza, cast from earth-coloured concrete, winds around the exterior of the cone and gradually ascends three-tiered terraces with reflecting pools, which have always figured prominently in Erickson's work. Inspired by Frank Lloyd Wright's Taliesin West complex in Scottsdale, Ariz., the plaza (which will be open to the public 24 hours a day, and used for outdoor installations that will change annually) offers a soothing urban respite with panoramic views.

Erickson, however, says the museum is a major departure for him. "I've been doing a lot of things that are very formulaic. The Law Courts and Museum [of Anthropology] all use the same post-and-beam principle. This is more of a landscape than a structure. It freed me from that vocabulary." He adds, "I'm still doing the same thing, just using different words."

The shallow-angled landscape was actually a matter of necessity. Erickson and his designers were forced to squeeze the galleries, theatre, garden and hot shop between a parking garage at the building's base and the connection to the Chihuly Bridge at its roof. The options for pushing the building up or down were limited by contaminated soil, which prohibited a lower garage, and city codes, which prevented a taller structure.

"It emerges out of the ground, almost like a bird alighting on wings," says Erickson. "It was a very restful solution."

Although at the age of 78 Erickson appears as robust as ever, this may well be the architect's last design on this scale -- at least in North America. (He has several major projects on the go in China.)

Is he pleased with the thought that this museum might be his swan song? "Oh, sure," says Erickson. "I'm very happy with the way things turned out."

Follow him around for a few minutes longer, however, and it becomes obvious that compromises were made.

The interior of the hot shop, for instance, is not quite as nice as he would have hoped. "We would have preferred the interior to be cleaner," he says, sounding deeply dismayed, "and as reflective as possible."

The lower pool didn't get the same infinity-edge treatment as the upper two, stopping the flow of water rather abruptly. And there is the signage. "They were indifferent about it," Erickson continues. "To me, it was important. It's one of the aspects of something well done."

And then there's the neighbouring condominium development -- 167 apartments in a squat, corrugated-steel box that butts up against the north end of the museum, blocking the entire view.

Does this bother him? "Yes," he says bluntly, stopping dead in his tracks and casting a scowl toward the as yet unfinished building. He refrains from saying any more. "I don't want to be castigated in the press."

Then he carries on with his list of complaints about the museum itself. "From the beginning, we were dealing with a very punishing budget," he sighs. "We made the best of it."

A building budget of $29-million might sound considerable. But as Erickson explains, the construction costs -- which began at $75 a square foot, and ended at $270 -- were considerably less than the museum-industry average of about $400.

And although board members stepped in to save the stainless-steel cone when money looked tight, Erickson's frustrations were compounded by uncertainty over the museum's mandate. It was originally conceived a decade ago as a much smaller, $9-million studio and showcase for Chihuly, leader of the world's avant-garde glass-artist movement and founder of the Pilchuck Glass School north of Seattle. Along with Seattle's Pratt Fine Arts Center, the Pilchuck has helped create a hotbed of glass artistry in the Pacific Northwest, which is home to 190 hot shops and more than 500 artists who work in the medium.

Ironically, Chihuly's ability to rally the support of Tacoma's business community pushed the entire project to another level. Soon, community leaders were envisioning a larger museum of glass that might help spark the waterfront's economic development. Indeed, the project grew considerably after George Russell -- of the mutual-fund company, Frank Russell -- and his late wife, Jane, came on board as generous supporters.

As well, Josi Callan was lured away from California's San Jose Museum of Art -- where she had spearheaded its transformation into one of the country's leading cultural institutions -- to become the new museum's director. Callan immediately decided to expand the museum's mandate by placing glass in the larger context of contemporary art: Along with glass sculpture by Czech artists Stanislav Libensky and Jaroslava Brychtova, the inaugural exhibit features the work of painters Mark Tobey, Morris Graves and John Cage.

On principle, Callan wasn't afraid that a bold architectural statement might overshadow the art that it would house. She, did, however, have to contend with a budget that was spiralling out of control (the museum is still $9-million short of a $48-million capital-fund goal) and a gallery design that, initially at least, simply wasn't practical.

"I was here early enough for us to work on the interior spaces together," says Callan. "There were a lot of design challenges with the hot shop. But this is an art museum, and the galleries had to be about the art. It can't be just about the building."

The original gallery design, she explains, called for a long, 10,000-square- foot space with columns running all the way down the middle. "Yeah . . . " she says, still incredulous at the thought. "We decided we could probably get rid of those columns. And I shortened up the back of the room and then added some space to the sides. I think what we've built here is something really flexible for artists and visitors. Arthur has told me that he thinks this is a much better building and museum now that we were all able to work together on the design. He may have forgotten he said that. But he did."

In fact, Erickson doesn't disagree. "Josi and her team have an incredible sense of the dramatic happening here," he says, as he sips a cappuccino in the museum cafe and stares out at the striking sculpture Patrick Dougherty has created for the main plaza. Woven from twigs and branches, it nests in and around the lower pool like a giant, flowing tea set.

All complaints aside, Erickson says he is satisfied with the building. "I give it a very high mark" -- an appreciation perhaps heightened by the reminder of the condominium monstrosity that it sits beside. "I wish Dougherty would take that willow weaving," says Erickson, "and spread it over the building next door." He lets out a long sigh.

"They certainly have a lot to learn down here."