A more inviting Kimmel

Jan. 26, 2008
Chris Satullo
Inquirer Columnist

When was the last time you told a friend, "Hey, let's hang out at the Kimmel!"

Never, right? I'm not surprised.

The Kimmel Center for the Performing Arts, with its startling glass vault rising nine stories above South Broad Street, became an icon of Philadelphia's cultural renaissance even before it hurriedly opened its doors in fall 2001. It is home to the Philadelphia Orchestra and five other resident companies.

Beneath the soaring glass canopy sit two performance venues: Verizon Hall with its lush, "inside of the cello" interior, and the versatile Perelman Theater. Verizon Hall's problematic acoustics aside, both spaces draw warm reviews from the arts-going public.

Not so the rest of the Kimmel. And the rest accounts for much of the massive volume contained by that glass canopy. Those public spaces, the vast ground floor and encircling tiers, are called Commonwealth Plaza. The name is a tip of the hat to the state and city dollars that helped get the building built.

As the Kimmel rose, its fans spoke excitedly about Commonwealth Plaza's potential to become Philly's all-weather civic square, a magnet for those who work, live or play near the Avenue of the Arts.

If that was the script, then the Kimmel is a flop. It bustles only before performances; after them, few linger. In daytime, you might roll a bowling ball along the slate floor and hit no one.

Here's what people invited to the Kimmel on Wednesday for a citizen forum had to say about the building: "Cold." "Uncomfortable." "Disorienting." "Dead." "Weird." "A waste."

As one participant put it, "The place says, 'Feel free to do . . . nothing.'"

The problems are many. At ground level, the building meets the street awkwardly. Even if Commonwealth Plaza were jumping, passers-by on Broad would see nothing to lure them in.

Upon entering, the eyes are drawn upward to drink in the audacious roof and the makore wood exterior of Verizon Hall. Striking. Gorgeous.

At eye level, though, something's off. You search the plaza in vain for signs of warmth, welcome or guidance. It's a building designed to be admired, not loved; to look good in glossy magazines, not to serve vibrant throngs.

At intervals along the cold slate sit chest-high tables that seem to be refugees from an airport, and they're near clusters of chairs that could be on loan from a high-school cafeteria. In a classic chicken-egg dilemma, the lack of foot traffic has meant the buildings' two bars, restaurant and gift shop are closed much of the time.

As a civic magnet, it's no Reading Terminal Market.

The good news is that the Kimmel's new CEO, Anne Ewers, is intent on improving the public spaces.

Thus Wednesday's citizen forum. It will be followed by three more next week. All told, about 200 citizens will give input on what they like and don't like about the Kimmel. They'll offer ideas for amenities, programs and design tweaks that would make people visit more often.

The forums are being run by the Penn Project on Civic Engagement, which will convey the citizen input to Penn Praxis, the design studio at the University of Pennsylvania. This is the same team that recently produced the acclaimed vision for the Delaware riverfront. Penn Praxis has assembled squads of design students from Penn and the University of the Arts to brainstorm ideas for fixing the public space. Those ideas will be rolled out for public comment at a forum in March.

Ewers hopes this civic engagement, blended with youthful creativity, will produce some useful quick fixes, as well as some ideas for bigger changes that could attract donor support to pay for full-blown, professional design.

Wednesday's forum produced an early flood of ideas, from the basic (greenery and comfier chairs) to the entertainingly unlikely (a nice climbing wall reaching to the top of the glass vault).

The forums, which I'm helping to lead, are booked. But you're not shut out of the action. If you've got a suggestion on how to improve the program, design or functioning of the Kimmel's public spaces, send it in. All essays will be passed to the Kimmel's leadership, and a sampling will be printed in The Inquirer.

Send your ideas to my e-mail (below) or mail them to Kimmel Project, The Inquirer, Box 41705, Philadelphia 19101.

And, maybe, someday, I'll see you at the Kimmel.