Pei’s Pride

With the opening of the National Gallery of Art’s new East Wing, Washington finally has acquired an outstanding example of modern architecture, a building that is at once a work of art in itself and a fitting showcase for the twentieth century painting and sculpture that it houses. In its combination of bold mass and soaring space, its understated luxury, and the refined craftsmanship which marks every detail of its exécution, it is an impressive statement. For other new museums still on the drawing boards, it will be a hard act to follow.

The architect, I. M. Pei—Chineseborn, American-trained—was faced with formidable obstacles in this commission. Not the least of these was the National Gallery’s original building, whose form—a columned Roman temple centered on a shallow dome—was chosen by its donor, Andrew Mellon. When it opened its doors in 1941, it was described as “the largest marble building in the world” (which for all I know it remains) and was greeted with considerable abuse, for it represented a missed opportunity to introduce contemporary architecture into stuffy, conservative Washington. But the passing years have dealt more gently with it than with many of the so-called functional buildings that in those days were applauded by the avant-garde, and now it is affectionately recognized as being not only handsome, but also beautifully adapted to the display of its growing assemblage of old masters, which now rivals those of many more venerable institutions. That the original National Gallery would eventually have to expand into the trapezoidal plot adjacent to it was foreseen from the beginning, but it was generally agreed that it would be nearly

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Ruth Berenson

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With the opening of the National Gallery of Art’s new East Wing, Washington finally has acquired an outstanding example of modern architecture, a building that is at once a work of art in itself and a fitting showcase for the twentieth century painting and sculpture that it houses. In its combination of bold mass and soaring space, its understated luxury, and the refined craftsmanship which marks every detail of its exécution, it is an impressive statement. For other new museums still on the drawing boards, it will be a hard act to follow.

The architect, I. M. Pei—Chineseborn, American-trained—was faced with formidable obstacles in this commission. Not the least of these was the National Gallery’s original building, whose form—a columned Roman temple centered on a shallow dome—was chosen by its donor, Andrew Mellon. When it opened its doors in 1941, it was described as “the largest marble building in the world” (which for all I know it remains) and was greeted with considerable abuse, for it represented a missed opportunity to introduce contemporary architecture into stuffy, conservative Washington. But the passing years have dealt more gently with it than with many of the so-called functional buildings that in those days were applauded by the avant-garde, and now it is affectionately recognized as being not only handsome, but also beautifully adapted to the display of its growing assemblage of old masters, which now rivals those of many more venerable institutions. That the original National Gallery would eventually have to expand into the trapezoidal plot adjacent to it was foreseen from the beginning, but it was generally agreed that it would be nearly