“Every one of us lives and moves all his life within the limitations, sight, and influence of architecture–at home, at school, at church, and at work." - J. Irwin Miller
When I say “Columbus” you say “Ohio?” And I say, “No, Columbus, Indiana!” Then I’ll tell you to watch Kogonada’s 2017 film, “Columbus,” set in Columbus, IN. You probably won’t, and it’s also not likely you’ll find yourself in the middle of Indiana anytime soon (unless you have the Exit 76 Antique Mall on your bucket list, in which case we’re kindred spirits and should be friends!), so let me tell you about it.
My favorite type of architecture is the humble vernacular of the Middle West. I love all the farmhouses mail ordered from the Sears Roebuck catalog, which I know are today’s equivalent to generic suburban cookie cutters. I appreciate their simplicity, practicality, composition within a farmstead, and humility. I find grain elevators and silos thrilling. I adore the investments made in post offices and public libraries of the plains. I almost get teary eyed when I discover the story of 2-3 dedicated historic preservationists who have rallied together a group of allies to preserve and invest in old small town main streets.
All that to say, I can take or leave certain “st-architecture” generally reserved for glittering and well-resourced urban centers. However, even I was a bit star-struck when I saw the A-list of Modernist architects who had left their mark in Columbus, IN, population 47,000: Finlands’s design darlings Eliel Saarinen and his son Eero, I.M. Pei, Harry Weese, Kevin Roche, Robert Venturi to name a few. (Disclaimer: There’s a high percentage of white and/or dude architects and artists represented, reflecting a trend in architecture of who is highlighted and lauded, especially during that era.)
Central Fire Station, Columbus, IN
What are all these Modernist architecture celebs doing in the birthplace of Mike Pence? This is a story that marries two of my great personal passions: creativity in rural/small city philanthropy and a deep understanding of the power of good design. And here enters the true hero of the story: J. Irwin Miller.
Joseph Irwin Miller grew up rich, born into the family that started Cummins Engine Company after making quite a bit of money in banking, real estate, and cornstarch. Cummins manufactures diesel engines and is now a Fortune 500 company. He had all of the rich, white male privileges that entailed: college at Yale, then Oxford, the opportunity to step in as executive vice president at Cummins after a stint in the U.S. Navy during WWII, and crucially, the ability to travel and gain an appreciation for the arts and investment in design.
By the time Miller stepped into the role of chairman of the Cummins board, Columbus's population was about 19,000. He knew something needed to change to be able to keep attracting skilled workers to the community, which is a problem many rural communities still face today. So, in 1954 he started the Cummins Foundation, which would cover the architect fee on any new public building, as long as the architect came from a list of top-shelf names in the field.
Public library by I.M. Pei
New schools, fire stations, the library designed by the world's leading modernist architects started cropping up in this growing prairie town. The Millers personally commissioned other starchitect-designed buildings, like the First Christian Church. Over time, the community came to embrace the power of design and it set an expectation for other non-public buildings. Today, if you visit the city's tourism website, it bears the tagline "Everywhere Art & Unexpected Architecture." In 2016, Exhibit Columbus made its debut, a chance for designers and architects to submit proposals for outdoor art installations and experiences building on the city's long legacy. They'll host a second Exhibit in 2019.
Wiikiaami by studio:indigenous. This structural art installation was part of the first Exhibit Columbus. In the background is Eliel Saarinen’s First Christian Church (1942). Wiikiaammi means “wigwam” in Myaamia, who were the first people on the land where Columbus now sits.
My favorite thing about this story, especially in an age where buildings funded entirely by one wealthy family and consequently have their names plastered across it (and once/if that family's/rich person's racist world view catches up with them, the rest of us are left wondering what to do with the names on the buildings they funded), is that Cummins’ investments are impactful but fairly behind the scenes. And by all accounts, this approach worked. Rather than focus on making the Cummins manufacturing plant and experience as nice as possible, Miller inherently understood that people move to rural places for quality of life, not just for jobs. As a result, residents take more pride in their community. It has also created more jobs in the creative and service sector, while also leading to increased dollars in tourism.
I offer this up as an example of what one company, and one person within a community with access to power and resources, can do to transform that place for everyone. The next time you're roadtripping across the U.S., make a pit stop! My only regret: not being able to stay a little longer.
Very cohesive branding!
The Commons on Main Street. If you peak inside this window, you’ll see dozens of kids climbing on the most incredible play sculpture by Jean Tinguley. The Commons is a community space and resource center, with space for live performances, lectures, gala events, and exhibitions.
The lovely Bartholomew County Courthouse, finished in 1847 and now located right across the street from The Commons.
The Cummins Irwin Office Building, originally the Irwin Union Bank and Trust. Designed by Eero Saarinen.
Tower at Mill Race Park, which was very flooded when we were there.