In 1909, in his ground-breaking Futurist Manifesto, F.T. Marinetti realized that the technological revolution of the time was changing the world permanently. Most significant to him was the change to art. His manifesto signaled a break from the past art forms, of still and tranquil beauty on canvas. To Marinetti, technology meant speed, action, and danger, and he called for a new art movement, Futurism, to embrace all these.
At the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT), where science and technology are a priority, the influence of Marinetti's Futurism is visible throughout campus. MIT prides itself in attacking the world's problems aggressively through technology, and many of its works of art portray this boldness.
The Green Building (54), which is located in the heart of MIT's campus, towers above Cambridge. Designed by I.M. Pei, it is a core component of the campus skyline just north of the Charles River. To say the Green Building is merely another tall, classy building would be a lie. As one tilts his or her head back to take in the whole of Building 54, it looms over the ground, menacing all who pass by. The building does not try to be subtle and blend in with the sky around it. It juts out, daring and bold, characteristic of Futurist art as outlined by Marinetti, "For art can only be violence, cruelty, injustice" [1]. The Green Building embodies these traits as it acts a tall, harsh king over the rest of Cambridge's low, quiet, innocent buildings. Marinetti writes: "Beauty exists only in struggle. There is no masterpiece that has not an aggressive character" [1]. Here the Green Building is the aggressive character.
Another architectural marvel on MIT's
campus that
exudes Futurist influence is the Stata Center, which, like the Green Building, reaches out
over its neighboring buildings.
However, unlike the Green Building's
straight hard edges of opaque rock, the Stata Center twists, curves,
leaps, and shines with an array of colorful sides, roofs, and overhangs.
The center does not resemble any sort of architecture from pre-Futurism
times, and it is in fact a revolt against the classic Victorian buildings
of Marinetti's time, before he began his movement. Furthermore, it is
a revolt against the classical academia buildings built in the early
days of MIT.
In the Futurist Manifesto, Marinetti writes, "[W]e want
to deliver Italy from its gangrene of professors, archaeologists,
tourist guides and antiquaries" [1]. By trying to escape the dull
monotony of other school building architecture, the Stata Center
fulfills this Futurism characteristic. From afar, the Stata Center looks
alive; it is wild and exciting. It inspires one to learn and to embrace
the education that can be found within its crazy walls.
Continuing on throughout the campus, another eye-grabbing building is Simmons Hall.
This building has received its share of praise as well as criticism, but it is
nonetheless a work of Futurist art.
With its thousands of windows, eccentric walls,
and seemingly random color scheme, Simmons grabs the eye and directs it every which
way possible. It is loud and obnoxious, like "the rumbling of huge double decker
trams that went leaping by, streaked with light," found in the preface to Marinetti's
Manifesto [1].
At night, when everything is still outside, Simmons appears to breathe fire, containing an inferno inside. This sort of raging energy is part of what drove Marinetti to compose his manifesto: "We are not out of breath, our hearts are not in the least tired. For they are nourished by fire, hatred and speed!" [1]. This same motivating passion can be found pulsing within Simmons Hall in the dark of night.
Marinetti praised motion and speed as part of his new art form. He and other Futurists were tired of still paintings. They especially denounced museums where people simply looked at old art, of things past. Marinetti writes:
To admire an old picture is to pour our sensibility into a funeral urn instead of casting it forward with violent spurts of creation and action. Do you want to waste the best part of your strength in a useless admiration of the past, from which you will emerge exhausted, diminished, trampled on? [1]
Thus, Futurists called for art that showed movement and action. On campus, this
can be found in several places.
In the Infinite Corridor (which by its name also implies
speed and motion) near Lobby 10, there hangs a picture of a bullet passing through a
flame at high velocity. When one sees this image, both the speed and the sound of
the bullet come to mind. In one frame, the picture succeeds in creating motion,
sound, danger, and intrigue. Elsewhere, on the corner of Ames and Main Street, the
canopy over the door of Legal Seafood draws one's eye upward in a sweeping motion,
but instead of a continuous curve, it is partitioned. Horizontal bars sharply cut
the curve every few inches like "a guillotine knife" [1]. This creates the image of the
curve actually being traced out live, even though the metal is still.
On the same street corner, there is a sculpture of a large
thrashing fish, in the throes of death most likely. The sharp metal shines and
changes with the light, creating
the illusion of real motion.
Furthermore, the idea of the guillotine is used here as well.
The fish appears to have been skinned and sliced with a knife, violence
that Marinetti and his early Futurists would have enjoyed in their art,
as they wrote in their Manifesto, "We want to glorify war - the only cure for the world" [1]. Although the actual
sculpture of the fish does not move, it successfully creates the
sense of action and movement. This motion is an integral part of the Futurist
influence.
Some art at MIT does not just create a sense of movement, it actually
moves! At the MIT Museum, right on Massachusetts Avenue, an especially
original art piece can be seen twirling and jumping right on the sidewalk.
The piece uses a slowly rotating red wedge to spin, push, and send flying a small wooden
chair that always seems to come back for more. Not only is this piece Futurist in
that it involved actual motion, the movement of the chair is unpredictable and
capricious. When one watches the chair, one cannot help but to get involved and
guess where it will move to next. Admiring this piece is anything but simply using
one's eyes. As Marinetti writes of simple still art:
For the dying, for invalids and for prisoners it may be all right. It is, perhaps, some sort of balm for their wounds, the admirable past, at a moment when the future is denied them. But we will have none of it, we, the young, strong and living Futurists! [1]
Aside from architecture and actual art pieces, MIT is home to some more subtle forms of Futurist art. Near the Hayden Library in Building 14, there is a simple glass door that on closer inspection has several Futurist characteristics. The glass pane is half-clear, half-opaque, separated by a pleasant curve. The handle is composed of a silvery metal spine and several black and white, oddly-shaped, yet quite practical handles. This door embodies the idea that Futurism does not specify a particular material to use. In fact, Sant'Elia encourages the use of a variety of materials in sculptures and buildings:
I affirm [...] the architecture of reinforced concrete, iron, glass, textile fibres and all those replacements for wood, stone and brick that make for attainment in maximum elasticity and lightness. [2]
Furthermore, the door-handle is practical while being creative and original. This is another principle of Sant'Elia's Futurism, namely:
That decoration, as something superimposed on or attached to architecture is an absurdity, and that only from the use and disposition of raw, naked and violently coloured materials can derive the decorative value of a truly Modern architecture. [2]
Another example of a multitude of materials being used in a Futurist-influenced work on campus is located at
the Media Lab. The entrance to this building is an entirely transparent revolving door, with metal frame.
Above the door is a wall of white tiles, and below is concrete. In one scene, all these materials come together
to create a beautiful Futurist entrance to the Media Lab. The ability to see through the door invites the viewer
in to explore the fascinating projects going on inside the Lab. The breaking down of borders between in and out is a central idea
in Futurist architecture. The Futurists proclaimed "the absolute and complete abolition of determined lines and closed statues. We
split open the figure and include the environment within it"[2]. The Media has accomplished this feat with its entirely transparent
entrance, which is more than just a window through which to peek. Passersby are drawn inside the building, just as Sant'Elia had
envisioned.
Also in front of the Media Lab, near the revolving door, there is another Futurist work that is this author's favorite piece. On the ground are scattered an array of blocks in an assortment of patterns. The blocks are meant to be benches and small tables for weary student or faculty walking by; however, the arrangement of the blocks almost implies that they fell from the sky as if in a torrential rockslide or avalanche. One can imagine the blocks crashing down in a violent manner, some of them shattering, chunks breaking and flying off in every which way. The simple set of blocks succeeds in creating action, sound, and awe, just by sitting there (and they are really comfortable, too.)
MIT's motto is Mens et Manus, which means Mind and Hand, and the Futurist works of art and architecture that appear around campus are evidence that the institute does in fact support art of the hand that stimulates the mind. The main goal of Futurism is to escape the monotony and dullness of past art forms; Futurists strove to stretch the mind in multiple directions with one piece by evoking scenes of action, danger, excitement, and motion. They denounced superfluous decorations in architecture and praised technology, that it should allow every part of a building to contribute to both form and function. The Futurist influence is clear all around MIT's campus, and it will continue to motivate and inspire those who work and learn there just as it motivated young Marinetti and his fellow Futurists nearly a century ago.