I was invited to tour the National Center for Atmospheric Research along with a group of my students.
The complex of buildings sits on a mesa at the foot of the Rocky Mountains near Boulder, Colorado.
This is the story.
Celebrated, modernist architect I. M. Pei designed the buildings to house research facilities for five hundred scientists working for the National Weather Service. They are grouped in towers to ensure a degree of privacy for individual research groups. The concrete towers rise up from the landscape reaching upward as if to honor the atmospheric science that happens there.
Adjoining the buildings are common-use facilities. On the terraced plaza, it was common to find researchers enjoying lunch around a large water fountain—until it was shut down when the mountain winds blew water everywhere, leaving employees wet and lunches soggy.
The plaza also features a rectangular area in which trees were planted in rows. For some reason, perhaps still unknown, the trees began to die—first one by one, then in numbers until all were lost. No malfunction was found in the watering mechanism or schedule.
After moving in, the occupants realized the tremendous pressure that the winds created against the buildings. They were often “frightened” by the ferocity of the wind. The buildings began to physically deteriorate after only a short period of time.
As time passed, funding for the government organization also began to deteriorate. Everyone working there was in danger of loosing his or her job, and the fear grew on a daily basis. Even strong links between departments began to fall apart.
To this day, I appreciate the candor we were afforded from the administrator who revealed these concerns. Then, almost as an afterthought, this happened.
She told us that the initial plan called for five buildings, but only four were built because funds ran out. The administrator told us that Mr. Pei had commented to her that it was a “pity” that this fifth building was not built, as it was the “root” of the complex.
I will never forget the moment. Concrete trees! Without roots! My immediate inspiration was to employ our Tree Cure, using color to create living, breathing, towering “trees” that would bear the fruit of stability and revitalization.
Having the great good fortune to ask Professor directly, his immediate response was, “He built it backwards. He should have built the root first. The four buildings are the branches, and they must now grow and deepen their own roots.”
“Yes, use the Tree Cure!”
We were never asked to follow through, and I still wonder about the artistry it would have required. Yet, I will always remember the meeting of the minds of two artists, two masters, who understood the transcendental importance of what is missing.
With Immense Gratitude for H. H. Grandmaster Professor Lin Yun