During my daily pilgrimage to class from the depths of my warm apartment, I walk past the construction site that will eventually be RIT’s new Magic center. As I get closer to the breezeway between Gannette and Booth, I tend to notice a large plywood board adorned with neon orange writing. During an earlier stage of the building process, the builders added this plywood door to give the workers quick and easy access to the side of the building. Eventually, to clear up any confusion, the word “PUSH” had to be added to the outside of the door. Soon after that the weather started to shift. With the drop in temperature came the realization that this new door would let in the cold and rain. The sides of the door were then insulated, and “Do Not USE” was added to the message to let the workers know it’s off limits.
Within the span of a few weeks, what was designed to be a helpful addition to the construction site, ended up devolving into nothing more than a wall and a contradictory cryptic message. I think this is an example of how poor planning and and thinking for the short term can hurt good design.
This former door was created quickly and inelegantly to serve a purpose. Looking at it now in its current form, I think it follows some of the themes of Enargeia. Like a piece of modern art, the object has sense of wonder to it. Its mixed messages and purposeless existence make me think about the story and people behind it. Doors are made to be opened, and a door that can never be opened again feels poetic in some way.