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Ever since designers unveiled a $10 million plan to "enhance" the main terminal of Baltimore/Washington International Airport, there was reason to fear it could end up looking like a huge generic shopping mall: McAirport.
But now that work is almost finished, it is clear that something even worse has occurred: It has been malled, all right. But it's more like a cross between a shopping mall and a rumpus room. In short, it has been domesticated, and it has become a less attractive gateway to Maryland in the process.
From the cliche-ridden photos above the airline ticket counters to the nauseating patterned carpet on the floor to the hodgepodge of plants by the windows, this is no longer the crisp, streamlined BWI that state officials once touted as being "a better way to fly."
Now they can mount a new campaign: "BWI, the Airport for Couch Potatoes." The comfort food and drinks are certainly in ample supply. All that's missing are the Barcaloungers.
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Due for completion by spring, BWI's overhaul was orchestrated principally by two designers, Greiner Inc. of Timonium and Cambridge Seven Associates of Cambridge, Mass. Although they had many problems to solve, one recurring theme of their work is the effort to make the public spaces of the airport seem warmer and more comfortable to travelers by making them seem more like home.
In recent years, this notion of making public buildings seem more like private domains has become a popular design trend, as architects explore ways to blur the edges between what's public and what's private.
Much of this effort is a reaction to the "cocooning" phenomenon of the late '80s, in which baby boomers traded nights on the town for a bowl of popcorn at home in front of the TV. In the high-tech, high-touch '90s, it was inevitable that designers of public buildings would try to make people feel more comfortable by surrounding them with all the comforts of home.
In the retail industry, Maryland's own Rouse Co. became a pioneer in this trend when it turned Atlanta's Perimeter Mall into a metaphor for domesticity, complete with mock living rooms in the aisles and a food court that looks like a giant kitchen. Shoppers seem to love the idea, and sales have risen significantly. The health-care industry has embraced the trend as well, especially in the design of hospitals and nursing homes that feel more residential.
Clearly, there are psychological advantages to providing a warmer, more comforting atmosphere for stressed-out airline travelers.
But ultimately, the test of any airport enhancement project comes down to how much it helps travelers get around: Will they be able to find their airlines and check in with a minimum of difficulty? Does it shorten travel time? Is it less confusing? An airport's ability to convey information at a glance is essential. From that perspective, BWI's new look may be more confusing than its old one -- especially for travelers unfamiliar with the terminal.
One of the most noticeable changes to the terminal is the transformation of the "graphic frieze," the 1,200-foot-long band of images above the airline ticket counters. Before, it was filled with series of repetitive logos that corresponded to the airlines below. It served not only as decoration but as an effective "way-finding device" for travelers, since it could be seen from close up or out on the curb.
As part of the overhaul, designers recommended that the airline logos be taken down and replaced with scenic photos of Maryland and the District of Columbia -- the primary destinations served by the airport. Their idea was that photos would enrich the terminal and help make it a more welcoming gateway to Maryland. In all, 194 images were selected for the frieze, representing the work of 26 photographers. They are like cherished family photos displayed on the fireplace mantel.
Unfortunately, with most of the photos now installed, the frieze did not turn out to be nearly as welcoming or enriching as its designers may have hoped. In general, there are too many photos; they are too small, and they are arranged and reproduced in a way that makes many of them difficult to recognize from a distance. There should have been fewer images, and they should have been bigger, bolder, crisper.
Headless Cal
The chief flaw with the $600,000 installation is that the designers opted to re-use the tetrahedral frame that supported the dismantled airline logos. That may have seemed like a cost-efficient solution, but as a mounting device for photographs, the 5-foot-square panels turned out to be less than ideal.
Some images fit within one frame, but others are broken up and spread over any number from two to six. Because the panels are set at angles to one another, it can be difficult to recognize an image when half of it is facing one direction and half the other. And because the airport is so linear, it's impossible to stand back far enough from the images to see them better without going outside.
Readability of the photos is further compromised by the reproduction and enlargement process. When blown up to fit the panels, many of the images appear flat and washed-out. The images all have the same visual weight.
But the biggest problem is that the photographs just aren't very inspiring. Many are trite or predictable. Others are poorly cropped, such as the photo of a headless Cal Ripken near the United Airlines ticket counter. When placed side by side, none really stands out from the others. They just run together in one long blur.
The decision to replace the old tile floor with carpet was another example of the designers' attempt to create a cozier environment.
On the main concourse, the gray carpet is punctuated by rectangular sections featuring bold geometrical patterns. Red, blue and green in color, these accent pieces are positioned in front of various ticket counters like rugs before a fireplace -- another pseudo-domestic touch. Again, the scale is off: The patterns are too elaborate and fussy -- too domestic -- for a building this size.
But that isn't the worst of it. Less than two months after it was put in place, the carpet is already showing signs of wear, with chewing gum crushed into the piles and stains appearing where people obviously sat down and spilled Starbuck's coffee all over themselves. After just one snowstorm, the carpet is as dirty as the tile floor ever was.
Creeping commercialism
Another distressing aspect of the new airport is the continued encroachment of commercial space into the public right-of-way. First, CK's Restaurant jutted out into the service corridor parallel to the main concourse. Now Cinnabon and Burger King bulge out, too.
Even more obnoxious are the freestanding sign boards that creep into the corridors and practically hit travelers in the face as they run to catch a plane. On Pier D alone, there are more than a dozen of these unruly signs, bearing messages such as "Dunkin Donuts . . . Seconds Away" and "Nathan's Famous . . . Don't Forget the Cheese/Chili."
The worst offender of all is the brochure rack that follows passengers around the airport. "New Arrival?" it asks. "Apartments for Rent." Two weeks ago it was in a USAir boarding area. Last week it was down on the baggage claim level. Like a robotic panhandler, it seems to have a mind of its own.
Equally irksome is the jarring mismatch of colors and materials all around: Red trash cans next to red tile columns next to red benches -- and no two reds the same. One reason the state launched the enhancement program was to eliminate visual clutter at the airport. But the proliferation of signs and typefaces and textures seems worse than ever. Does every other glass door really need a label that says "Animals must be kept in cages"? When does the editing process kick in?
Years ago, Maryland's General Assembly established an Architectural Review Board to scrutinize plans for new state buildings and make sure agencies spend construction money wisely. Panel members are required by law to critique plans for everything from parking garages to college dorms. For some reason, the Maryland Aviation Administration has been exempted from its purview.
But now that the airport is growing so dramatically and has such an ambitious list of building projects to come, including expansion of its garage and construction of a new international terminal, perhaps it is time to bring this agency in line with others in the state. It would require more coordination on the part of the future design teams. But it may be the only way to prevent another fiasco like this.
In the right hands, $10 million could have done wonders for the airport. So far, this enhancement program has been no enhancement at all.