Our buildings convey more meanings than we admit, or maybe realize. We probably can’t know for sure whether buildings possess their meanings or simply bear them, but that point is academic. What's important to recognize is that buildings constantly, constantly, constantly influence our appreciation of meaning itself.
The McKevett elementary school in Santa Paula conveys many meanings, some complimentary, others contradictory. And yet somehow the building manages to unite them all.
First there is the building’s situation, in the middle of Santa Paula’s gridiron, rotated 45 degrees away from the grid. Why is this meaningful?
When you walk through Santa Paula, McKevett turns your head. It’s embedded in the heart of town, but it takes a different position. The building insists on being recognized.
This kind of gesture would be passive-aggression in a person, but buildings don't act, they just are. McKevett reminds us that recognition is special. And cognizance is a wonderful message for an education building to convey.
McKevett's most recognizable inspirations are the barns and the missions of Southern California, which have established and cultivated a young, enduring, and globally resonant local civilization.
The structure's economical planarity, its unifying ridge line, and the repeating pattern of its openings evoke native strains of thrift, integrity, and orderliness that transcend formality and reflect the incomparably generous dignity of shelter.
From the street, McKevett School resembles a pair of small archetypal Greek stoae. The building's design places its institution within a larger argument about the democracy of education and the elevation that both transmit. The debate is enduring: while prejudice and argument can be tolerated in small doses, we don’t necessarily feel the same about democracy and education.
Finally, there is a moment of discovery that the McKevett Elementary School frames Santa Paula peak right in the middle of the town. There are flitched gables, modulated openings, and a diminutive threshold. But there, off to the East, is the mountain. In the center, there is a portal behind a portal.
Here, as the saying goes, even the eyes have corners.
When we neglect the meanings of buildings we allow our surroundings to separate us from the world we live in. This is a shame and a kind of elective poverty, because our built environment is made more for the celebration of the dwellers than for the satisfaction of the builders.
Realize here that in building, the builder’s sacrifice is paramount. It can only be redeemed by a commonweal that recognizes his or her forbearance. When we neglect the meanings of buildings we scorn the dreams of our builders, which are treasures even greater than the labor that remains.
gaz