Perched high atop a hilltop above the mighty 405 freeway, the Getty Center overlooks Los Angeles with an air of casual grace. There's no direct automobile access to the museum, so the journey to the Getty Center starts at a rather nondescript underground parking garage tied to a tram that takes you up to the hilltop. When you enter the parking garage, you're clearly tethered to the present, but the small details seem a bit different; like something really special is in store. That feeling is confirmed as soon as you step out of the parking garage's elevator into the tram station. It's light and airy with a hint of whimsy. Everything is very clean, but not in the sense that it's free of dirt (of which it is), but more in the sense that it's free of the superfluous. You feel like you're leaving behind the dirt and grime of your everyday life and putting on the robes of learning. The future is evoked by a semi-infinity pond and a clean, white motif. However, small details like wooden pergolas give the place a familiar feel; that it's your future. As I'll soon learn, this is a theme for the entire museum. The juxtaposition of new and old; artificial and organic. Blended together and living in perfect harmony.
The whisper-quiet tram arrives to whisk us to the museum at the top of the hill. The ride is smooth, like floating on air. As we take an architectural tour, the docent quickly informs us that the cleansing feeling at the tram station is by design of the architect, Richard Meier. As the tour progresses, you realize just how truly amazing the museum is. Meier's architectural philosophy is to bring order to space, so everything at the Getty Center is on a fairly strict grid system, with the columns and tiles lining up perfectly. But despite that level of precision, it never feels foreign, as there is liberal use of organic material within the compound--travertine stone, water, lush trees.
As you enter the main lobby with its cylindrical center space opening up into the sky, you can't help but feel as though you're in a futuristic space terminal. From the lobby is the central courtyard. The first thing you notice is that the roar of Los Angeles is silenced and replaced with the soothing sound of running water. Trees line the courtyard's main reflection pool, offering a space to do some serious introspection or just rest those weary feet. The second thing you notice is the color. The Getty Center is white, but two kinds of white. Pure white and "Getty white." The majority of the buildings are in Getty White, sort of an off-white that was designed not to blind people when hit by the glorious California sun. The pure white--the white actually preferred by Meier for the entire complex--is reserved for moments when evoking movement is necessary--elevators, doorways, curvatures, etc. It's striking to step into a super-tall, bright-white, whisper-quiet elevator and emerge into a room filled with impressionist paintings. Again, the juxtaposition of two polar opposites is done in a way that is familiar and comfortable.
I'll stop here since I'm not really doing the place justice. But trust me, it felt like the utopian future. Something out of Star Trek (the Next Generation, for those keeping score). You know, that Man has come to a point in his evolution where knowledge and learning superceded violence and destruction. Perhaps that feeling had something to do with the company I was with. I was fortunate enough to have taken this trip into the utopian future while on a date. A good omen perhaps? I'll leave the reading of tea leaves and crystal balls to the professionals and simply say that for now I'm content with the here and now. But, let's just say I'm also definitely looking forward to the future.
--KM
"Engage."
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