The idea of a subterranean expansion of a landmark museum isn’t new—I. M. Pei’s glass pyramid for the Louvre is an iceberg’s tip that leads to vast spaces below. But ever since Frank Gehry’s exuberantly curvy Guggenheim in Bilbao, Spain, became a hot tourist destination, additions to museums have tended to be showy, like Daniel Libeskind’s expansion of the Denver Art Museum, a symphony of titanium angles and peaks. Museum directors like to say such structures are artworks themselves; Wilson says that idea “leads to extravagance for its own sake, to gain attention.” He may be on to something. The subtlety of Holl’s Nelson-Atkins addition, which opens this weekend, is part of a discreet new direction in museum design, away from the elaborate signature styles of big-name architects. Several museums beyond Kansas City are adding on to historic buildings in the same way—by digging down. One of them has even hired Gehry.
Though the design of the Bloch Building, as the Nelson-Atkins expansion is called, doesn’t shout, it would hardly be a wallflower at a party of cutting-edge architecture. The plain-vanilla exterior of those boxes is the only aspect of the design you could call bland—and at night, the specially lit glass walls cast a magical glow. But it is on the inside that Holl shows his chops, using the most elusive and difficult materials: space and light. He has designed shape-shifting spaces that flow, like an unfolding narrative, down ramps and graceful steps, with a canted wall here, a curve in the high ceiling there, as a visitor moves through the galleries for contemporary art, African art and photography. Light spills in at unexpected moments, from above or from big panes of glass overlooking the garden. In truth, the Bloch Building is less “buried” than carved out from berms of earth that bank one edge of the park. Holl used the slope to ease his structure gently down into the ground, while keeping parts of it connected to the natural, if manicured, beauty outside. It artfully joins the old building belowground through grand bronze doors that once led to the museum’s auditorium.
Other museum additions echo this deferential approach. The Bowdoin College Museum of Art in Maine is housed in an 1894 neoclassical building designed by Charles McKim of McKim, Mead and White. The Boston firm of Machado and Silvetti created underground galleries, reached from a sleek, freestanding entry pavilion. The Japanese architect Tadao Ando is tackling a partly underground expansion of the Sterling and Francine Clark Art Institute in Williamstown, Mass., which maximizes the sylvan setting.
But the most surprising architect to sign up for such a seemingly modest task is Gehry himself. The master of gorgeously explosive exteriors has been hired by the Philadelphia Museum of Art to add to its landmark neo-classical building. Like the Nelson-Atkins, the museum sits like a Greek temple on a hill overlooking the city. It’s so beloved (by both art lovers and fans of the “Rocky” movies) that the very thought of adding anything obtrusive would offend the gods. But the museum has a solution: a long-closed entrance, at the base of the hill, leads to a spectacular high-vaulted corridor running 500 feet under the museum—and to a huge potential space under the grand terrace. It’s early in the design process, but punching through the underbelly of Philadelphia is an idea even Rocky could throw his weight behind.
