COMMENTARY / A building brimming with creativity / Despite flawed entrance, expanded structure shows promise
The restored and expanded Berkeley Public Library proves, quite fittingly, that you can't judge a book by its cover.
Outside, where a separate new addition sits respectfully a few feet behind the original, everything is familiar and even a bit drab. But inside it's a whole new story -- and despite some awkward twists, a successful one.
What made the challenge difficult is that while the 1931 James Plachek- designed library is a landmark, it was functionally obsolete. Most books were shelved in tight stacks, while the children's department could be reached only by a back corridor.
The design team needed to echo the original design and layout, partly because of logistics and partly because Berkeley watchdogs demanded it. But they also needed to create a flexible space where the collection could grow.
The architects -- Cynthia Ripley of Oakland and Portland-based BOORA Architects -- responded with creativity. Imagine the expanded structure as two interlocking puzzle pieces, the new cube slipped in the back and to the west of the older one. Inside the five-story structure, it's as if four libraries were piled atop each other: popular books, then more scholarly ones, then a children's library and finally an arts and music department.
The arts room is the topper, and not just physically. It's an unabashed joy:
The long, lean space flows smoothly from compact discs to book stacks to drop- dead views of the bay beyond.
The strain of fitting old and new together shows most clearly in the reference department. The books are shelved in the department's original home, under a beamed ceiling with stencil patterns that were in the 1931 plans but never applied.
The space feels dignified but relaxed, the ideal combination for libraries today. But how to expand? Here it gets tricky: The department squeezes through doorways carved through the original wall to reach an information counter -- and then jumps up into a mezzanine where newspapers and worktables are situated.
One change that could discombobulate longtime patrons is the decision to move the front door west to the new building.
True, the original entrance (now closed) has no wheelchair access. But the new entrance confounds logic: You step inside to confront an information desk staffed by a librarian and, behind it, shelves of books. Common sense says the books are off-limits behind the counter; in fact, they're the new releases. The checkout counter is on the left.
The approach will become familiar, but it's still awkward.
Aesthetically, the restoration work is sharp throughout. In the old reading room, for instance, banks of light panels were cleared out to reveal the grandeur of 45-foot high ceilings and 25-foot tall windows that old patrons barely noticed.
That spaciousness stands in contrast to the old exterior, which has a heavy feel despite energetic carvings based loosely on the Mayan-by-way-of-Egypt motifs popular in the '20s. The addition is largely glass and deferential to a fault.
"We looked into experimenting more, but people weren't comfortable with that," Ripley says.
But a library's looks aren't nearly as important as the basic question of how well it functions. Recall the premiere of San Francisco's Main Library in 1996, where opening day acclaim turned to anger when people realized they couldn't find any books.
San Francisco shows the risk of judging a library too early. Still, Berkeley's expansion looks promising. And it sends a stirring message. Even in this age that focuses on narrow interests and distant celebrities, some cities still invest in places that welcome all residents -- and encourage them to think.