Guy Blelloch's question came off the cuff as he toured Carnegie Mellon's campus on a vibrant May afternoon. Fresh off his doctorate from MIT and emboldened, perhaps, by the optimism that accompanies spring and all its inherent possibilities, the 26-year-old faculty candidate posed the query to Nico Habermann, then-head of Carnegie Mellon's computer science department.
"Any talk about getting a new building for computer science?" he asked without hesitation, clearly running the risk of stepping on some serious administrative toes. But hey, when you're young, fearless, and looking to leave your mark in the computer science field with one of the top departments in the country, what do you have to lose?
Habermann was gracious but noncommittal in his reply. Big changes were coming, however. The year was 1988, and the department was on the cusp of branching off from the Mellon College of Science. Three months later, the School of Computer Science was born.
"I remember he sounded hopeful in his tone, saying something like, 'It'd be great to have a new building,'" Blelloch says, looking back on the moment 20 years later.
These days, Blelloch isn't looking back very often. Standing in front of his seventh-floor office window in Wean Hall, the professor of algorithmic studies and programming languages gazes to his left toward the south end of The Cut. He knows that on the opposite side of the building, facing northeast, the answer to his two-decade-old question is emerging from a sloping Oakland hillside.
"The building was always on the radar," he says, smiling. "It was just a question of resources."
Shoehorned into a slightly dog-legged, 5.6-acre plot of land, the Hillman Center for Future-Generation Technologies will be one of two buildings comprising the university's $98.6 million capital improvement project for the School of Computer Science, slated for completion late next spring. The complex is part of Inspire Innovation, the university's $1 billion capital campaign that was formally announced this month (see News Flash: Inspiring Innovation).
The Hillman Center will stand four stories and encompass 50,000 square feet. The trapezoidal structure will accommodate 200 faculty and graduate students. "Some of the most important and forward-looking research at the university—and in the world—is going to take place in this building," says Carnegie Mellon President Jared L. Cohon.
Joining the Hillman Center will be the Gates Center for Computer Science, a 159,000-square-foot, six-story building that will house undergraduate studies. Each building bears the name of its primary benefactor: the former named in honor of Henry L. Hillman, whose $10 million gift through the Henry L. Hillman Foundation last February gave the building its identity; the latter named after Bill Gates, the Microsoft founder who gave $20 million through the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation during the project's initial funding efforts in 2004.
Blelloch's attention on this day focuses on the adjacent building, and with good reason. For the past two years, he has served the School of Computer Science as associate dean of planning for the Hillman Center's overall architectural design. In addition to the voluntary position, he acts as the building and program committee coordinator, a liaison between the school's faculty, the university's Campus Design & Facilities Development group, and the architect for the complex, Mack Scogin Merrill Elam Architects, Inc., of Atlanta.
And so, the young man who once asked about a new building devoted to computer science research now finds himself a seasoned professor devoted to helping bring it to fruition.
Randal Bryant, dean of the School of Computer Science, says the irony makes sense. "We needed someone on our faculty who was willing to look out for their concerns and make sure it would be a great building that was done right," he says. "We needed someone who was passionate about the project, and Guy was the perfect choice."
Blelloch, a native of Southport, England, is an avid fan of modern architecture and, specifically, how it dovetails into classical settings. Looking at the various architectural renderings taped up throughout his office, it's clear that the Hillman and Gates centers face a similar challenge of aesthetically fitting in on the Henry Hornbostel designed, century-old campus.
Like the Gates Center, Blelloch is confident the Hillman Center will be a transcendent addition, providing eye-catching visual angles (the building has 12 sides to ponder) and much-needed room for research (no more department staff stuffed into the Hamburg Hall basement or makeshift offices on South Craig Street). Yet it will be, Blelloch believes, much more than the sum of its physical characteristics; it's designed to leave a broad range of emotional impressions on visitors, students, and faculty alike.
"I see the Hillman Center as not just being a building on its own," offers Blelloch, who visited more than 15 campuses across the country to gauge the best and worst of other academic computer science facilities. "The Hillman Center, as well as the complex as a whole, will be an important connection point for the east and west parts of campus."
In a larger sense, it will also bring the drama and art departments into the equation. A pedestrian bridge will link the Purnell Center for the Arts to the upper floors of the Gates Center. The bridge will be called The Randy Pausch Memorial Footbridge, in memory of beloved computer science professor Randy Pausch, whose work—particularly as co-founder of the Entertainment Technology Center—"bridged" the gap between artists and computer scientists. The Purnell-Gates connection will be extended, via a glass-enclosed walkway, to the Hillman Center and, ultimately, Forbes Avenue.
The effect should make for a busy building as it connects campus. "It's supposed to be alive," says Blelloch. "It's supposed to be a thoroughfare."
For a building that is also supposed to be private and enable researchers to explore the limits of computer science uninterrupted, that may sound like a dichotomy. Given the existing terrain, however, the expectations of Blelloch and the Hillman Center architects appear to be spot on, with the Hillman Center's "ultimate access" linking of The Cut with a new campus quadrangle at the center's base.
And after decades of the lower campus seemingly turning its back on Forbes, the university will finally have a face there with the Hillman Center's main entrance invitingly recessed slightly off of Forbes Avenue between Hamburg and Cyert halls.
"Traditionally, it's been an ugly walk to get around campus along Forbes Avenue with the busy, narrow sidewalks," says Blelloch. "Psychologically, it's been a barrier to South Craig Street. Hillman changes that." Bryant adds that the campus will inch even closer to Craig Street once the "yet-to-be-built" Collaborative Innovation Center II becomes a reality.
But that's in the future. Back to today.
What difference do 12 inches make? Blelloch gestures toward his open office door and contends much more than a person might think. "We have an open-door policy in our school," he explains. "If a faculty member or a researcher is in an office, the door stays open, which isn't true in a lot of universities where they want quiet. During the year, two-thirds of these offices are open, so we want to maintain that climate after the move."
To that end, Blelloch collaborated with the architects on many building facets, from deciding the amount of natural light that would pour through to making sure there would be windows and decent views for each office. He kept his eye on making environmentally friendly choices, too.
As the floor plan evolved with each successive rendering, no detail proved too small, including the width of a basic doorway. Entryways are commonly three feet wide, but the ones at the Hillman Center will have an extra foot. According to Blelloch, studies have shown that wider openings on simple things like office doorways foster feelings of inclusion, not exclusion, among occupants.
"We want people to be able to walk by and not feel like they'e imposing on anyone," Blelloch says. "Seeing a larger doorway opening tends to have a positive psychological effect."
Creating an atmosphere of inclusion is a crucial component to the Hillman Center's overall interior design. The motive is more than altruistic, though. It involves neutralizing the same technological advancements spawned by the schools of computer scientists themselves.
"With DSL lines, it's so easy for people to decide, 'I'm not coming in today,'" says Blelloch. "They'll say, 'I'll just come in two days this week.' Because of this, it's become extremely important to create an environment where people want to come and physically be here. It's got to be friendly and lively enough for them to feel like they could not be more happy or productive working any place else." Bryant concurs with Blelloch's point.
"It's funny," he says. "On the one hand, we're trying to create all this technology that allows teleconferencing and remote collaboration. Well, that works when you already know each other. But if you don't know each other very well or never met each other at all, then it's very difficult."
When it comes to cooperation and productivity, the School of Computer Science has a track record that ranks among the nation's elite—traits Bryant understandably wants to maintain.
Consider, he says, computer science professors Seth Goldstein and Todd Mowry. Working together under one roof, the duo is advancing computer science into avenues once thought to be the exclusive domain of science fiction with the study of claytronics (first reported on in the June 2007 issue of Carnegie Mellon Today). It's a two-year-old project combining modular robotics, systems nanotechnology, and computer science to create three-dimensional displays of electronic information.
In layman's terms, tiny robots known as claytronic atoms, or "catoms," are designed to think and cooperate with each other as "programmable matter." The machines—barely the size of a split-shot or BB—are capable of assembling, disassembling, and reassembling through magnetism or electricity into larger-scale machines or mechanisms. Theoretically, they are capable of morphing into anything the imagination can conjure up, even replica human beings.
Imagine, for instance, Henry Hillman standing in the boardroom at the Hillman Foundation's Grant Building headquarters in downtown Pittsburgh, even though he is actually hundreds of miles away—his three-dimensional image being projected by a computer as he works with his foundation staff, pouring over funding requests, hammering out the details of the day.
Impossible? Claytronics could one day make that happen.
"Our department presented him with a prototype of a claytronics model that Seth and Todd worked on, and he was just fascinated by it," says Blelloch.
"Mr. Hillman is intrigued about the concept of programmable matter," confirms Hillman Foundation President David Roger. "He has always had a strong interest in science, and what Carnegie Mellon is doing really captures the imagination of what could be possible."
So much so that the respected 90-year-old philanthropist agreed, through the Henry L. Hillman Foundation, to make his substantial gift.
The decision to support the computer science wizardry found in projects like claytronics wasn't made impulsively. "Mr. Hillman and the foundation trustees are very thorough in their decision making with a deep capacity for detail," says Roger, who points out that the foundation receives hundreds of solicitations annually. "When projects like the Future-Generation Technologies building are discussed, what the foundation is most interested in is determining if the design process is well conceived. Will it do what it is supposed to do?"
The $10 million gift answers that question.
Mack Scogin, principal with Mack Scogin Merrill Elam Architects, wants to set the record straight about Henry Hornbostel, who won the campus design competition for Andrew Carnegie's fledgling institution in 1904. The 37-year-old architect didn't play it safe, says Scogin, despite the distinguished appearance of campus landmarks such as Hamburg Hall, Porter Hall, Hamerschlag Hall, the College of Fine Arts Building, and Skibo Gymnasium, just to name a few.
"When those buildings were done, when he and Carnegie were working together on the design and forming the institution, I can't tell you how unusual they were," says Scogin. "They're very idiosyncratic and not considered classical architecture by any stretch of the imagination."
Scogin's southern accent amplifies with excitement as he makes his point. "Look at the lawn on campus," he says, referencing The Cut. "It serves as an axis. At one end is your power plant, with your engineering and technical buildings. At the other end is the art school. This is still—still—one of the unique layouts of any university in the world. There's balance behind his design.
"Remember, Andrew Carnegie was bringing education and training to a broad spectrum of the public. Along with that, he wanted to get people to use their imaginations. Hornbostel's buildings took the practical curriculum involved with making things and combined it with art."
Not to mention a bit of illusion, an idea repeated in the Mack Scogin Merrill Elam Architects design.
"Hamerschlag Hall was built on a pedestal, with the first floor actually well above ground level," says Scogin. "When we designed the complex, we had to work with an 80-foot change in elevation. So we did the same thing, putting the buildings on pedestals. When you're looking out from The Cut, the Gates Center appears to be level."
Between the pedestals, the M.C. Escher-esque angles (ensuring everyone has a view) and black brick and gray trim exterior palate (foregoing, yet complementing, the traditional yellow and green), the two buildings are sure to create lively reactions. But really, are they so divergent from the rest of campus? What of Warner Hall, or Scaife, or Wean? What is traditional?
"Our buildings can be seen as different, but we see them as the opposite," says Scogin. "We see them as progressive, which is the heart and soul of what Carnegie Mellon is all about."
Clicking through the images of the Gates and Hillman buildings on his laptop computer, Bryant is delighted to see how far the project has come in the four years since it formally began.
"The goal with the Hillman Center—and the Gates Center, too—was to attract both faculty and students," he says. "We're certainly hoping it will have a strong influence in recruiting. If anyone comes in and says, 'I got this great new idea,' we'll be happy to tell them, 'Well, have we got the place for you.'"
A comment that Guy Blelloch will surely appreciate.
Chris A. Weber is a Pittsburgh-based writer whose work regularly appears in this magazine.
