St. Mary's City -- With its tidewater setting and bucolic vistas, St. Mary's College of Maryland easily qualifies as one of the state's most beautiful campuses. Unfortunately, its buildings haven't always been as delightful as their natural surroundings.
But this year, college administrators completed two buildings that for once are worthy of the idyllic rural landscape. In the process, they have demonstrated a way for all state campuses to strengthen their identities. Both buildings were designed by Bohlin Cywinski Jackson, a Pennsylvania-based firm well-known for its ability to create a sense of place and its commitment to expressing humanist values. This month, the American Institute of Architects named it the 1994 Firm of the Year, for producing "distinguished architecture" for at least a decade.
A design collaborative that responds to the specific requirements of each commission rather than imposing one stylistic signature, these architects have developed a flair for capturing the essence of Tidewater Maryland architecture. Their buildings haven't so much appeared on the landscape as slipped into it, as if they had always been there.
With landscape architects Michael Vergason and Jay Graham, they have set a new standard of excellence -- and sensitivity -- for design work on a public campus in Maryland.
Founded in 1840 as a women's seminary, St. Mary's is now a public liberal arts college serving 1,500 students. The buildings that demonstrate its enlightened approach to campus-making are William Donald Schaefer Hall, a $16 million science center, and the Townhouse Crescent, a $4 million, 40-unit residential complex made of townhouses arranged in a semicircle.
Bohlin Cywinski Jackson designed both projects to reinforce the notion of the campus as an "academic tidewater village" -- a planning concept that college trustees adopted in 1987 to unify the 268-acre property, which borders the site of Maryland's first Colonial settlement and capital.
Schaefer Hall
Of the two, Schaefer Hall presented the tougher design challenge. With 58,000 square feet of space it is one of the largest buildings on campus, and it could have been one of the most mundane. But Bohlin Cywinski Jackson gave it pastoral panache, creating a composition that bespeaks the rich heritage of the tidewater region while accommodating the functional requirements of a modern research facility.
The key to the successful design was the architects' decision to treat the building as a synthesis of modern construction techniques and traditional forms that take their character from the indigenous architecture of the region.
To help keep the building as low and small in scale as possible, they limited its height to two stories and broke it into sections that frame a greensward. From a distance, its most noticeable feature is a series of massive paired chimneys that recall those on historic manor houses throughout the area. The chimneys are also fully functional for a science building, doubling as fume exhaust stacks for the laboratories inside. More than any other detail, they reflect the architect's quest to reconcile new and old, modern and traditional, urban and rural.
The calculatedly simple exterior design incorporates other key elements of 17th- and 18th-century tidewater architecture as well, including brick construction, peaked slate roofs, authentic multipane windows and arched openings that lead to covered passageways.
The plain architectural vocabulary is reminiscent of the Christopher Wren-inspired Assembly Building, a Colonial-era building that has been reconstructed in St. Mary's City. On Schaefer Hall, white paint covers the undersides of the arches and passageways, but the brick has been left exposed on the outer surfaces -- just as it is on the Assembly Building. To enrich the grounds, landscape architect Jay Graham created a walled garden and other intimate spaces, featuring native flowers and other indigenous plantings.
Another detail that underscores the synthesis of old and new is the series of dovecotes near the roofline. Instead of inserting metallic vents to draw in the fresh air needed to ventilate lab spaces, the architects fashioned brick openings in the shape of dovecotes, the traditional spots on buildings where domestic pigeons roost. Like the chimneys, these dual-purpose dovecotes mask the building's more high-tech function.
Schaefer Hall is not just an essay in historicism, however. Inside, the architects created "project labs" that enable undergraduates to work alongside professors in a way they would not usually be able to do until graduate school.
Also, although the building was constructed on a tight budget, there are numerous examples of quality craftsmanship and fine detailing. One particularly attractive room is the Waldschmitt Lecture Hall, where high ceilings, natural light and maple trim add up to a warm and comfortable teaching space.
The architects' thoughtful response to the needs of students and faculty, combined with the carefully crafted details, makes Schaefer Hall far more than a Disney-like cartoon of a Southern Maryland manor house. Ready for the future but deeply rooted in Southern Maryland's past, it is a fitting symbol for a campus where the 17th century will soon meet the 21st.
The Crescent
For the townhouse complex just north of the science building, the architects were commissioned to provide simple, affordable living spaces that again fostered the spirit of a tidewater village. Working with landscape architect Michael Vergason to select a site free of archaeological land mines, they focused on an otherwise-ignored area at the west end of a running track.
By arranging the houses in a crescent shape that follows the track's curve, they imposed order on a flat landscape that had none. The configuration also gave the houses a common area that will always be open, green and quiet after dark.
Not content merely to follow the track's curve, though, the architects punched openings at irregular points along the crescent to connect the housing with other parts of the campus. One portal leads to a stand of trees. A second, flanked by tall chimneys, leads to a dining hall.
A "hammerhead" design was used to terminate the end of the crescent closest to the science center, and a traditional telescope design terminates the other side. The telescoping design makes the "tail" end of the curve delicate and graceful, as if it is trailing off into the woods, which it is. To provide a visual connection back to the science building, the architects used the same bricks, windows and walk-through archways that were used there.
The result is a simple but powerful complex, and one that is in high demand after one semester of use. "We love it," volunteered sophomore William Avirett. "I'll never live in a place this nice in my life."
Advance planning
As talented and conciliatory as these architects may be, their involvement was not the only reason the buildings turned out so well. The college administration, led by president Edward T. Lewis and executive vice president for administration John D. Underwood, deserves credit for laying much of the groundwork.
Under Governor Schaefer, every state campus was required to complete a master plan to guide long-range growth. St. Mary's College took its responsibility very seriously, hiring the noted urban designer Jacquelin Robertson.
It was Mr. Robertson who suggested in 1987 that the campus be treated as a tidewater village, as a way of acknowledging its historic setting and promoting a sense of community. His recommendation was a turning point in the planning effort because he persuaded the college to take better advantage of its setting, so visitors would know they're in Southern Maryland and not Frederick or Baltimore. He has been succeeded by Mr. Vergason, a Virginia-based landscape architect who has divided the campus into precincts for further study and who was instrumental in developing a north campus master plan.
Another important consideration was procurement of goods and services. To guarantee that they could hire the consultants they wanted, rather than be forced to follow the state's cumbersome bidding procedures, administrators proposed an innovative funding plan. It called for the college to pay a higher-than-usual percentage of the design and construction fees, allowing the state to pay less. In return, administrators received permission to make more decisions at the college level, without going through the state bureaucracy.
Finally, the college has learned to compromise. The clearest sign of that was the decision to back off from an earlier site for the science center after community groups expressed concern that construction there could disrupt hidden archaeological treasures. It was a wrenching decision for the college, but it turned out to be the right one.
Of course, one or two buildings cannot by themselves make a campus great, nor can they compensate for years of missteps and mediocrity. What counts is that the client has a solid vision for long-range growth and a commitment to quality every step of the way. Under Mr. Lewis and Mr. Underwood, St. Mary's clearly has both.
Architect Peter Bohlin believes the buildings at St. Mary's College are representative of the best of his firm's work, for which it was honored last week.
"The AIA Architecture Firm Award is a wonderful affirmation of our belief that exceptional architecture springs from responding with the full depth of our intellect and intuition to the particular circumstances of each situation," he said.