Shiny, But Vacant
September 2022
(Reading Time: 3 min)
(Reading Time: 3 min)
On weekends, Upper Wacker Drive’s north-south section is borderline desolate. If we were brave enough to stroll along the drive during the weekend, rows of pristine and sterile high-rise office buildings can easily spook us. They are eerie not because of their perfection, but because of the startling contrast between the lobbies’ exquisite finishes and their lingering vacuity. One indifferent corporate lobby stands out from the cohort of lobbies. It steals our attention because the space seems brand-new. The metal and glass panels shine even on an overcast day. The transition between the sidewalk and the interior floor is speckless and hasn’t yet seasoned with Chicago’s wintry mix. Through the transparent surfaces, there are tall perennials that seem to stand on the wrong side of the sidewalk. This is the lobby at 110 North Wacker Drive, or the Bank of America Tower.
The lobby has two “public” entrances, both situated on the Upper Wacker Drive side of the building as opposed to the river-facing side—where a hidden outdoor plaza gets tucked underneath the tower above. Returning to the Wacker-Drive side, the two entrances sit within two pockets of space that are “carved” in from the tower massing. Perhaps these spaces are to provide more visibility for passersby and, functionally, to offer shading for the sun and canopies for wet weather. Nonetheless, the spaces speak amply to introducing the grandness of the lobby space inside due to the height and the lavish use of square footage.
Spinning into the lobby via the revolving doors, we are greeted with a quadruple-height space. A space that mimics a solemn cathedral, except we feel slightly dizzy after entering this lobby. The vertical space's scale inspires awe while also making us feel minuscule. On our left, there are gray limestone-clad walls that span the entire lobby’s height. These folding walls are (maybe) to impose a three-dimensional texture to combat the bulky elevator cores. At the top of the wall where it meets the ceiling, there is a halo-like lighting system integrated in cutouts from the ceiling that follows the zig-zag wall profile in plan. It is only this warm and incandescent color of the light that brings us a certain degree of comfort.
Looking over to our right, a row of 20-foot-tall trees planted in pots that are covered with lush ivy comes into focus. The trees seem to be carefully selected based on their stance. Behind this row of trees is possibly one of the most extravagant elements in this lobby— the spotless façade supported by tension cables with ultra-clear low-iron glass panels and structural silicone joints. Cylindrical columns with brushed stainless-steel finishes stand in a straight line and breaks down the façade’s horizontal span. Because of the crystal-clear glass, the concrete jungle on Upper Wacker Drive and the tension cable grid behind the trees made the trees seem out-of-place. With the trees’ upright and soldier-like posture, we can almost hear them cry out, “Let us out of here!”
In between the stone-cladded walls and the whimpering trees, the reception desks and security turnstiles are sprinkled on the immaculate floor tiles. The floor paving is a close relative to the elevator cores’ limestone appearance. They are carefully polished to a degree that we can even spot our own reflections as overlays on the stone tiles. Besides the reception casework and the gates, it seems bizarre that there is no sitting or lounging furniture placed at all, considering the breadth of the lobby is larger than some studio apartments.
The Bank of America Tower’s lobby speaks eloquently of the Miesian slogan: “Less is More.” All the architectural details embodied Mies’ design philosophy. The rhythm in placing the modular parts. The unrelenting precision. The gleaming finishes. The universality of space. Although an ode to Mies is unsurprising in a city he once conquered with his work, it begs the question of whether such grandiose interior space as an office lobby is now archaic and exists only to satisfy the real estate appetite. If an office lobby’s preset is public and encourages incidental encounters, the Bank of America Tower’s lobby has shunned a public space’s intrinsic quality. It is a non-place that only serves as a transition. It is a backdrop we skim over before we get on with our daily grinds. Yet, we may find ourselves questioning the magnificence and magnitude of such space if we ever get a chance to catch a breath in life.
Perhaps this lobby space is valuable. It helps us reflect on the relevance of such interior space in a post-pandemic world. The lobbies used to be our confidence in the economy and the world’s capital well-being. But, when we gaze at our reflections on the limestone floor, the metal sheen, and the glass panels, we only see ourselves toiling every day, swiping in and out, spinning in and out of the revolving doors like hamsters on their wheels.