Tumbled Cement Block Vancouver Bc

The User Experience of Architecture: Vancouver's Robson Square ...

Maybe I'm a strange creature, but there's a building in this world (and unfortunately located in this fair city of Vancouver) that has the power to change my route purely based on its aesthetic design, especially on any cold or dismal days.  I realized this the other day as I was rushing back to the office and crossed one block over--out of my way and adding precious time to the journey, mind you--just to avoid it.  It dawned on me that I have even resorted to saying goodbye to coworkers at the intersection preceding it just so that I don't have to walk next to this cold, dank building.  This despite the fact that we are having a good conversation and ultimately walking toward the same transit station.  I swear, the building has its own microclimate and just being in its vicinity brings the temperature down a few degrees, and submerges you in a Dickensian gloom.

The building, you ask?  Funnily enough, it's designed by world-renowned Canadian architect, Arthur Erickson.  It's actually a late 70s, 1.3 million sq. foot complex of buildings (well, I personally call it the concrete monolith) comprised of the provincial law courts, Robson Square, and the Vancouver Art Gallery.  It hulks over 2+ blocks on one side, and takes up another block on the other axis.  It's the back end (Howe Street side) of the Law Courts that I particularly detest, though the cellar-evoking Robson Square ice rink area is no favorite either.

(Note the lack of people in all of the photos below -- I snapped one set of photos at lunch time, and another set at rush hour.  The building is located in the heart of downtown Vancouver.)

In thinking about this, a dusty memory floated back to me.  Back in my undergrad, I took a drawing class and our instructor took us on a field trip to the SAM .  Notwithstanding a bit of drama involving the school bus, a broken water pipe and our instructor yelling at us to RUN!, there was also another memorable part to this excursion.   I saw a postmodern painting of grey power lines that absolutely repulsed me.  When the instructor asked us what we thought about it, I couldn't restrain myself and blurted out, "I hate it!"  Surprisingly to me at that time, I was not greeted with a lecture about all the merits of postmodern communist art, but instead invited to explain why.

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