Downtown Denver again sheds its skin, with the near-completion of a huge new stadium that is far from shy.
The designers of Coors Field tucked the baseball field into the neighborhood -- literally -- by sinking the field below ground. Then they cloaked it all in a brick building as highly detailed as the historic warehouses that form the heart of lower downtown. If baseball is a game of nostalgia, Coors Field played along, and played well.
The Pepsi Center, which replaced the old McNichols Arena, gained articulation during the course of the design process. Little marks it as the legacy of that concrete mushroom, a 1970s building that was so of its time. The center, with its floating roof, big red walls and glass accents, is a glitzier place for a time that craves flash while demanding that a building at least look like it is paying some attention to the neighborhood. The Center's designers did that by including red (stucco, rather than brick, but . . . ) on walls incised to give some sense of scale.
Now the third of the major league sports facilities to be built here in less than a decade prepares to open: Invesco Field at Mile High, a name rendered in the odd, if eye-catching, choice of cursive type.
A caveat is necessary here: Even with its debut tonight as a venue for its intended purpose -- football -- the new stadium is not really done. For one thing, the landscaping is not completed, the park surround that forms part of the building's attraction. For another, there has been no way to gauge the success of circulation, that is, what happens when 76,000 or so people are circling the concourses, looking for a seat or a bathroom or a meal.
Moreover, I find it difficult to screen out the sight of the old stadium, which stands next to the new like a poor relation. Built in 1948 to a design by James Tolle to house baseball, the stadium was enlarged in the late 1950s to accommodate a football team. In 1977, new stands were added to raise the seating capacity. Their hallmark: They slid on a pad of water, via a hydraulic system, for placement that could vary by event. So the new stadium has not yet had a chance to breathe fully, no matter how much designers have tried to connect it to the rest of the city.
On the other hand, the presence of Mile High until demolition begins next year offers a study in how new refers to old. The homage comes in the broken circle shape, or horseshoe, as well as interior features such as a steep rake and noise-producing metal risers. That's pretty much the extent of nostalgia in this project, which should be fine with everyone.
Yet the designers also looked at their surroundings, an example of the contextualism that is a mantra of contemporary design. In this case, the main nod to the neighborhood is the use of brick at the lower level of the exterior; that pays respect to the nearby Auraria Campus as well as Ocean Journey, whose metal roofline and curves also are reflected in the stadium.
The evolution of the stadium design when the architectural team was selected in February 1998: HNTB Sports Architecture of Kansas City, Mo., in association with the Denver-based firms Fentress Bradburn Architects Ltd. and Bertram A. Bruton & Associates.
(The Metropolitan Football Stadium District selected the HNTB/Fentress/Bruton team over HOK Sports, whose designers had created Coors Field and the Pepsi Center. A few days before the selection, a district board committee had eliminated a third contender, NBBJ and Ellerbe Becket.)
The original scheme included a swirling metal roofline, set atop a basically masonry building; the entry/exit ramps and pedestrian walkways were outside the stadium proper. (One early view showed a big metal swoopy form that appeared to slide off the rim onto the ground.) A later view was unveiled in September 1998 -- just in time to show to voters headed to the polls to decide the stadium's funding.
Those outside ramps seemed disembodied from the building, and proved a main point of contention once a city-administered design advisory committee weighed in in late 1998. Members included architects John Anderson, Brian Klipp and George Hoover as well as others in the design professions and various developers; Anderson now terms the committee "effective."
By spring of 1999, that became apparent, as the impact of the committee was made visible. The ramps, which had troubled many people because of their intrusion between the building and what was developing as a park surround, had been moved inside.
The stadium was not a pure circle or oval, but a form bulged out, as Anderson says, and given a certain lightness by a prominent metal latticework wrapper. The steel screen and glass gave the place a sense of transparency. It formed a natural platform for what architects call the "tusks" that support the lights and roofline.
Eventually, the base would be brick, with a subtle reference to team colors in blue- and orange-tinged Endicott Iron-Spot brick. Too, a distinctive course of sawtooth brick was laid almost at eye level.
The final impact: While the stadium has claimed a firm place on the skyline -- a shiny, loopy line that begs for someone to tear down the clunky tower and faux Gateway Arch at Six Flags Elitch Gardens -- it is not overwhelming when approached from the ground. Brick provides familiar territory here, and what could have been a smothering expanse has been broken up in a simple act of twisting some of the brick on its end.
Inside, the concourses are wide, and surprising only for those of us who love the open aspects of walkways inside Coors Field; here the halls are enclosed to cram in more concessions, support more boxes or keep people warm, or maybe a combination of all three. Restroom availability has been improved from the old Mile High. Exclusive spaces for gatherings, of those attending games as well as rental events, depend on heavily patterned carpeting, sleek wood walls and memorable views. These are party rooms dressed to impress.
Connections have been worked out between the stadium and its neighbors through various pedestrian links. The park surround -- not yet completed, just as the public art is not yet totally installed -- owes its existence to a host of forces, including the landscape architects Civitas.
Which brings up the issue of attribution and credit, a difficult proposition when there are many consultants (from interior design to graphics) and when two big firms are working together closely, even collaborating, over a long period of time. An architect friend said that this is a case of architectural forensics, that is, figuring out who did what. I'll leave that to the TV cop shows, and just say that both HNTB and Fentress Bradburn had a hand in the final success of the exterior. That includes Terry Miller and Timothy Cahill at HNTB and Curt Fentress and Mark Outman at Fentress Bradburn -- and dozens of others through heaven knows how many incarnations.
In the end, the stadium is made of honest materials, and has managed to stake a bold claim on the skyline, forge links with other Platte Valley attractions, and offer some greenspace and respite.
If the architects, advisers and city officials wanted a building with a civic presence that befits public financial support, they succeeded. The new stadium is a public place for a somewhat private purpose -- just like the next project lurking on the horizon. Now it's time for design advisers for an expanded (or improved) Colorado Convention Center to borrow some stadium steel and insert it firmly in their backbones.
Mary Voelz Chandler writes about art and architecture for the News. Contact her at (303) 892-2677 or chandlerm@RockyMountainNews.com.
