Taleen appeals to anyone who thinks that the Brown Sciences Library is the ugliest building in Rhode Island.
When my mom and I visited Brown last spring, our tour guide told us that the Sciences Library (popularly dubbed “The SciLi”) held the title of “ugliest building in Rhode Island” for several consecutive years. At the time, my mom and I nodded vigorously. It seemed objectively hideous—like a horrible tumor protruding from the idyllic colonial setting of Providence.
If you ask anyone on campus to describe the structure, they will likely say the same thing: The SciLi is an insensitive, Brutalist building that offends the history and architectural integrity of College Hill. A few students that I know have even vowed to never enter the building as a silent protest against it. In an online poll about the ugliest building in Providence, a user commented “I’ve always harboured a special hatred for the SciLi… An enormous stack of hideous brutalist arrogance astride an historic 300-year-old Colonial village? Wow, thanks, guys.” When I told a visiting friend about my idea for this article, he said something along the lines of: “Wait… you’re arguing that that building is beautiful?” Like many others, he found the SciLi to be ugly, crude, and irredeemable.
However, as I write this article on the SciLi patio, staring up at the 14-story, 180-foot structure in front of me, I cannot help but disagree. Designed by the Warner, Burns, Toan, & Lunde architecture firm in 1971, the SciLi was a stunning example of Brutalism at a time when Brutalist structures captivated the Western world. The style was originally developed in the mid-twentieth century by Alison and Peter Smithson, a British couple who hoped to find an innovative approach to cheap, functional architecture after the destruction of World War II.
Though I wouldn’t necessarily call myself a fan of Brutalist architecture, I do appreciate the merits. The term “Brutalism” is two-sided. One, it refers to the “brutal honesty” of these buildings—whose concrete structures are visible and obvious. Two, the name is derived from the French term “béton brut,” meaning “raw concrete.” By definition, Brutalism conveys architectural integrity. Buildings in this style are honest to form. They do not try to be anything other than what they are.
Holes for tie rods, used during concrete pouring, are still visible to passersby.
I admire the SciLi for its successful embodiment of these principles. The exterior and interior are made out of exposed concrete. The tie-rod holes on the outside of the building, formed by the rods that hold the plywood in place when the concrete is poured, are still visible. The entire structure looks almost like a Lego set, constructed from well-defined concrete building blocks. The courtyards in the basement allow students to focus on studying while remaining surrounded by nature. The placement of windows along the upper parts of the walls on the upper floors both protects the books from sun damage and limits distractions for students. Like many of the best Brutalist buildings, the SciLi’s aestheticism is defined by its material construction and functionality.
I refuse to believe that the SciLi’s stylistic divergence from the existing cityscape is a fundamentally bad thing. I love architecture because it evolves. Modern times lead to technological advancements and the development of new styles. In fact, the entirety of Brown’s campus is a beautiful amalgamation of different architectural time periods. University Hall is a traditional colonial building. Rhode Island Hall is neoclassical. Sayles Hall is Richardsonian Romanesque. Though all three buildings are situated on the Main Green, the lack of consistency is what makes campus beautiful. The SciLi should not be expected to conform to the surrounding neighborhood. It should not be expected to retain a specific design. It should be admired for what it is: Brutalist, raw, and honest.
So please, to everyone who refuses to enter the building or shudders a little when they walk past, consider the fact that maybe, just maybe, the SciLi has a bit of beauty, too.
Brown’s Percent-for-Art program has thoughtfully integrated site-specific public art onto campus since 2004. In honor of the 20th anniversary of this program, I sat down with the former director and artists involved to reflect on some of the program’s diverse projects and to gain insight into their perspectives on public art at Brown and beyond.
By examining various historical and cultural practices in regards to fashion, textiles, and fabric-making, Chloe discusses the different ways fiber arts express community and identity in material or design choices.
Responding to the tense familial relations in Tina Barney’s "Jill and Polly in the Bathroom" and Larry Sultan’s "My Mother Posing for Me."