Growing Up in Columbus, Indiana: A Love of Functional Art

There’s a theme in the movie Orange County about a writer’s complicated relationship with his hometown.  In the beginning, he thinks he needs to leave in order to be a great writer.  In the end, he realizes he needs to stay home with the characters he will bring to life on the page in the same way James Joyce and others used their homes as characters in their stories. 

Without a doubt, I have a complicated relationship with my hometown.  Similar to, but different than, my complicated relationship with my adopted hometown of Los Angeles.  I grew up in Columbus, Indiana, but I most certainly became the man I am in my decade in Los Angeles.  In the case of both, unlike Colin Hanks’ character in Orange County, I did eventually have to leave to grow.

In spite of spending the first eighteen plus years of my life there, I can’t completely separate certain parts of myself to determine what’s growing up in Columbus, what’s growing up in my family, what’s my Appalachian culture and what’s an inherent part of my nature.  That having been said, there are one or two characteristics I can most certainly attribute to growing up in Columbus, not least of which is my love of, and my appreciation of, what I call “functional art.”

I love beautiful guitars I can play.  I love beautiful cars I can drive.  I love beautiful buildings I can walk through or sit in. 

Without a doubt, I owe this to growing up in Columbus.

There are multiple buildings that loom large in my consciousness, most of which are featured, at least briefly, in the film, Columbus:

·      Southside Elementary School – I hate this building with all the vitriol I can summon from my heart.  In addition to the bad memories, it looks like a Soviet prison.  I have no idea what they were thinking with this one.

·      North Christian Church – I went to Boy Scouts here.  An incredible building.  It’s hard not to be in awe of it.

·      Irwin Union Bank, Eastbrook – The Dead Horse.  One of the places we’d turn around when we were cruising 25th Street as teenagers.  I didn’t do this as often as some, there had to really be nothing going on for me to drive up and down the street looking for girls in cars.  100% this meant no good shows at Rhino’s in Bloomington or the Emerson Theater in Indianapolis.

·      McDowell Adult Education Center – Mostly reminds me of watching Lilies in the Field and The Wild Ones in my remedial classes I had to take at night my senior year in order to graduate on time.

·      W.D. Richards Elementary School – Mostly because it was literally in my backyard from 1992 to 1998.

·      Cummins General Office Building – I worked here for about a year and I always loved the ramps.

·      The Miller Home – This is just one of my favorite houses ever built.

I could name a lot more, but there’s one building, in my eyes, and in my heart, that towers over every other building in town: The Cleo Rogers Memorial Library, designed by I.M. Pei and Partners in 1969.

This building is absolutely perfect. 

Aesthetically beautiful and equally functionally efficient.  It’s been over twenty years since I’ve been inside and I could still map it out.  You walk in the front door and to the immediate right was, in my day, the VHS tapes and vinyl records.  Further ahead on the right was the check-out counter.  To the left was popular fiction.  Beyond that was periodicals.   If you passed the VHS tapes, there were more research areas with things like microfiche.  In the back and upstairs, various non-fiction and research areas.  Downstairs was the children’s section and meeting rooms where, in elementary school, I would meet with Amnesty International and write letters on behalf of political prisoners like Aung San Suu Kyi.

I spent, at least what feels like, years of my life in this building.  I was an enthusiastic reader and researcher from a young age and my grandmother would take us there several times a week during summer vacations.  In middle school, I would walk from Central Middle School (the original building is no longer there) after school and hang out there until my parents got off of work.  In high school, it was one of my sanctuaries away from everything else in my life. 

I loved the fact there were so many nooks and crannies where you could hide away with a great book.  And even better, none of these places were dark and damp, instead, they all had access to plenty of sunlight. Even on a winter day, you could sit by a window, feel the heat from the register and the sun, while the touch of the window was still cold. 

People point to the pyramids at the Louvre, or other buildings as Pei’s greatest works.  You can have them all.  I’ll take the library. 

In the car world, we have what are known as “trailer queens”.  These are cars that are never driven except on and off the trailer.  To me, this is a damn shame.  Cars are meant to be driven.  Guitars are meant to be played.  Paintings and sculpture?  You look at it, but even those should be out to be seen.  Things can be both beautiful and useful.  I.M. Pei, Harry Weese, Charles Eames and the Saarinens taught me that. 

I’m not an architecture nerd by any means, I just appreciate creativity, craftsmanship and beauty.  There are people I’ve met who appreciate these things too, but I haven’t met many people for whom it is as personal as it is for me.  I can better remember the inside of the library than I can any of the homes I’ve lived in, including those in which I grew up.  Growing up in Columbus changed me in a very particular and profound way.  And, no matter what other conflicted feelings I might have towards the town, I am deeply grateful for that.