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Mirrors have long been considered treacherous. In Greek folklore, the good-looking Narcissus is so enamored of his reflection in the river that he can not bear to look away. As penalty for his vanity, the gods transform Narcissus into a flower, condemning him to remain next to the mirrored stream permanently. In the Grimm’s fairy tale “Snow White,” the Evil Queen has a more distressed relationship to her reflection than Narcissus and continuously asks the mirror to reassure her that she is stunning. This obsession makes her envious and harsh. And in our own time, there is the title of Charlie Brooker’s dystopian Netflix series Black Mirror, which, naturally, refers to the little desiring devices all of us carry in our pockets. Like mirrors, smart devices take advantage of the sense of vulnerability that comes from self-consciousness. Nina Vasan, a teacher of psychology at Stanford University, has actually discovered that social media users are connected less by likes and remarks themselves than by the nervous anticipation that originates from their absence. The black mirror never ever provides us precisely what we want, and this is why we can’t put it down.
Amazingly, birds have an even more problematic relationship with mirrors than humans do– albeit for different factors. A recent research study by the National Bird Conservancy found that over 1 billion birds each year are eliminated by flying into buildings in the United States alone. And mirrored façades are the reason for most of these deaths. “The increased use of glass in our contemporary structures, consisting of large expanses of highly-glazed or ultra-clear glass, presents a severe threat for birds,” describes the National Audubon Society. “A lot of birds don’t view glass as an obstacle. Rather, they see the important things they know and need, such as environment and open sky, shown in the glazed surface area.” Once again, treacherous.
Hudson Yards is not simply the most recent area in New York City; it’s the shiniest, a veritable world of mirrors. Picture: 50 Hudson Yards, by Kidfly182, CC BY-SA 4.0, through Wikimedia Commons
And then there is the problem of energy effectiveness. The earliest structures that employed reflective glass façades utilized much more energy than traditional strong wall structures because large areas of single-pane glass transferred cold and heat even more easily than masonry walls, requiring heating and cooling systems to work overtime. While things have actually improved through using double glazing, finishes, and better insulation, curtain wall systems are still not as efficient as properly designed solid wall structures with smaller window openings and greater thermal mass.
The function of these anecdotes is not to prevent using reflective façades. Rather, my target in this column is the unthinking usage of extremely reflective façades provided their liabilities. Considering the psychic power and the push and pull of mirrors, why have they end up being the default for urban workplace towers? And how are these mirrored urban environments affecting individuals mentally?
This latter question has in fact been thoroughly studied. In his 2023 book Humanize: A Maker’s Guide to Designing Our Cities, designer Thomas Heatherwick makes use of findings in ecological psychology to argue that visual intricacy is necessary for metropolitan environments to feel welcoming and “human.” Smooth, shiny surface areas lack this salubrious quality of intricacy– especially when they are showing other smooth, shiny surface areas, as is the case in areas with numerous adjacent glass buildings. “Scientists have found that when we go into any environment, we automatically scan it for info,” Heatherwick explains. “Throughout the countless years in which our brains were being molded by development, we resided in nature. And natural environments are stuffed with complexity … The human brain has evolved to express this base level of information, a bit like the body expects base levels of oxygen, water, and food.”
Heatherwick cites a research study by the neuroscientist Paul Ellard, which compared the stress levels of individuals walking a bustling Lower East Side tenement block to those strolling past the entire Foods in that area, which uses up an entire block and, at street level, features large reflective windows. He found that those on the dynamic, crowded street were far less stressed; subtle ecological hints put them at ease and made them feel less exposed than they did when walking past the shiny exterior of the Whole Foods. Perhaps it returns to the days when our forefathers had to flee sabertooth tigers, however it is a shown truth that people prefer environments with nooks and crannies where they could possibly hide. And there are no hiding areas inside a hall of mirrors.
In place of smooth, reflective surface areas, architects can opt for texture. It often does not take much. My favorite contemporary structure in downtown New York is Frank Gehry’s 8 Spruce Street. It’s nothing unique at street level, sadly, however the rippled stainless steel façade of the tower is enthralling when seen from a range. The texture catches the light rather than simply reflecting it, and the building seems to alter its shape along with moving light conditions throughout the day. It is glossy but not flat, and this is enough to give it life.
For a mirrored structure that is engaging up close, there is Anish Kapoor’s Cloud Gate in Chicago, which is better known as “The Bean.” This public sculpture motivates individuals to approach it from several angles. The mirrored surface, which is made of stainless steel rather than glass, is extended and distorted, developing a fractured commentary on the surrounding plaza, not a mere doubling. Unlike the glass and steel towers that Heatherwick regrets, Cloud Gate is filled with personality and adds to a sense of place.
The Tornado is a striking observation deck that becomes part of the Fenix Museum of Migration in Rotterdam.
An extremely recent job that thoughtfully employs mirrored surface areas is an observation tower called The Tornado that rests on the roof of the Fenix Museum of Migration in Rotterdam. Designed by the Chinese company MAD Architects as part of a total museum idea designed by the Dutch company EGM Architects, The Tornado consists of a pair of huge helical staircases that lead up from the leading floor of the building and supply a commanding view of the River Mass. The mirrored facade creates an impression of ephemerality, which connects to the expressive function of the structure, which looks for to convey the idea of movement. As MAD founder Ma Yansong explains, “The theme migration has to do with movement, so the staircase is about motion. It’s an architectural aspect, but also a metaphor; it has a storytelling function; it’s a sculpture.”
There is absolutely nothing inherently wrong with mirrors. And there is nothing wrong with mirrored façades, whether the reflective surface area is made from glass or stainless steel panels. However, mirrors are far too powerful to include into structure designs without a clear function. Unlike solid walls, truthful masonry, and reflective surfaces aren’t calm and encouraging. They draw us in, push us away, and refract their environments in disorienting methods. If you need to utilize them, tread thoroughly.
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Cover Image: Dietmar Rabich, Münster, LVM-Versicherung– 2017– 6848, via Wikimedia Commons, CC BY-SA 4.0