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Rice's early buildings (Lovett Hall, Physics Laboratories and the old Mechanical Engineering Building are prime examples) have an amazing level of detail: detailed window frames, carved balconies and sculptural column capitals. That sort of architecture went out of style with the beginning of modern architecture in the 1930s. When its general approach was revived in the 1980s, the details were greatly simplified (Mudd Lab and Alice Pratt Brown Hall, for example, may resemble old buildings from far away but are considerably cruder up close). Part of this has to do with the cost of labor, but at least in some part architects have forgotten how to do such details in this age of computerized drafting.

In that context the Baker Institute is a surprise. Using "cast stone" (a sort of high-class concrete), Beeby has added finely detailed window frames, columns and doorways. The detailing is crisp and well-proportioned. The front entrance in particular is a showpiece. Many of these details are patterned on older Rice buildings, and that effort has paid off.

The interior, by contrast, is unlike any we have seen at Rice. The building's central space is a four-story-tall atrium, surrounded by three levels of arcades and topped with a light blue coffered ceiling. The plane of the walls is broken by simple and well-proportioned pilasters. Light streams in from overhead skylights. The effect brings to mind a church.

Even away from the central space, in hallways and offices, the space has been well-considered. The ceilings are high, giving everything from hallways to offices a sense of spaciousness.

The entire interior, from the arcades in the center to the tall hallways, is well-proportioned. The overall effect is that of the early Renaissance: classical forms applied with a sense of proportion and simplicity.

The box all this comes in, though, is still just that, a box. The building relates little to its surroundings; it is as though a spaceship has landed on the powderpuff field and parked in alignment with the street corner. The doors face only parking lots and tennis courts, and the major path which goes up to the building from Rayzor Hall meets only a blank wall. Good buildings animate the space around them; this one just sits there.

The impression the building gives, with its small windows and closed shape, is that of a fortress, an unfortunate appearance for the home of an institute that was created in part to bring people and disciplines together. I only wish Beeby had managed to communicate to the outside world what a wonderful place he has created within.

This item appeared in the Features section of the February 28, 1997 issue.