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This paper was originally prepared for Dr. James A. Odom, Jr., Harrisburg Area Community College. It was written to satisfy a course requirement in English Composition 101.

It has been said that we are a product of our environment. This is true, as the aesthetic qualities of one's environment can have a significant effect on that person. I have experienced this first-hand. During my two-year stay at Rochester Institute of Technology, and on subsequent visits to the campus, the architecture had a significant psychological, emotional, and cultural impact on my life.

Although RIT was originally founded in 1829, the current 1,300 acre campus was built 25 years ago on a tract of farmland just south of the city. The style of the architecture used in its construction is called Brutalism, a product of the avant-garde movement in modern architecture. Brutalism, which didn't gain wide acceptance until the late 1950's and early 1960's, is characterized by a preference for strong contrasts of simple shapes, and by an almost puritanical use of concrete as a building material. Entryways are hidden, and windows are exaggerated so that one may not judge the scale of a building without actually being in its presence. The term "Brutalism" was never intended to mean that buildings of this style are brutal to their occupants or their surroundings, although most RIT students and visitors would disagree.

The buildings on the RIT campus, which originally cost $60 million to build, are constructed of poured concrete with an exterior structure composed of glass and brick. Even the walkways connecting the buildings are made of brick. There are bricks everywhere you look -- 10 million Belden iron-spot bricks to be precise. There is squared brick, angled brick, projecting brick, and splayed brick. At RIT bricks are more than just a building material, they're a way of life. As a student in "the brick city," you will learn to love them or you will hate them with a passion.

At first, I was one of those people who hated the bricks. My first encounter with the bricks of RIT was in the summer of 1991, right after my high school graduation. I had enrolled in fall classes, and was visiting RIT to participate in an orientation session for new students. I had seen photographs of the campus, but I had never actually been there.

The bricks were harsh, and seemed to intensify the dry, unrelenting heat of the summer. They held the heat of the sunlight well into the evening, and during the day they reflected the light into my face with a harsh glare. I was miserable during my entire three-day stay, and was having second-thoughts about my decision to attend RIT. The entire architecture of the campus seemed to be overly hostile, and I couldn't imagine having to be there on a daily basis. When I returned to RIT for move-in day in the fall, I had a different opinion. By now, I felt more at home on the campus than I had in the past. The harsh summer heat had long since gone, and the bricks caused me to have a warm, pleasant feeling, even though the chilly autumn breezes were blowing past. The changing colors of the leaves made the earth-colored bricks fit in, as if they had integrated with nature. The buildings cast long shadows with the sun so low in the sky, forming an amazing array of geometric shapes everywhere I looked. Not only was I beginning to dislike the campus less and less, but I was truly beginning to feel as if I belonged there! During mid-autumn, when the last remaining leaves were about to fall, the buildings seemed to have a majestic power, like massive fortresses contrasting against the falling leaves of the changing season. The strong lines and sharply cut angles made the buildings seem powerful, mightier than all the plants and trees which were about to yield to the oncoming snow and ice.

Winter was a bad time to be at RIT. My friends, the bricks, had betrayed me. The warmth, comfort, and power they once had was gone -- seemingly blown away with the last leaves of autumn. The bricks were cold and harsh with the death of winter. What originally started out as a negative emotional response to the season began to have profound psychological effects upon almost every member of the student body. Everyone became depressed and detached, spending long hours in solitude, listening to depressing music, writing sad poetry, painting gloomy pictures, sleeping in the middle of the day, and exhibiting other self- destructive behavior. The students blamed the bricks for their depression, saying that the architects must have believed that prisons were fashionable. In actuality, RIT was not designed by a clan from the New York State Department of Corrections. It was in fact designed by a group of the country's most prestigious architects, striving to create something that had never been built before. The campus is an endless collection of geometric forms. From above, it looks as if it could be a stack of building blocks of various shapes, all having perfect design. Maybe the architects weren't really concerned about the people who would be using the buildings. Perhaps creating something that was a technical wonder was more important to them. Many of the buildings at RIT seem to be architecture for architecture's sake -- they aren't nearly as functional as they could be. The dormitory rooms are tiny, and the offices are oddly shaped. Many of the classrooms don't even have windows. It's no wonder that most students don't appreciate the work of the architects.

The winter ended not a bit too quickly. The snow and ice began to melt and the first signs of spring began to show themselves. Plant life began to grow from the newly thawed ground, and the students emerged from their emotional hibernation to play games in the fresh, warm outdoors. It was as if they had a new lease on life, and all hostilities towards the architects were left behind, forgotten in the old season. The bricks seemed to echo the emotions of the students, glistening with the morning dew and shining in the sunlight after a noontime rain shower.

It wasn't until after my first year of college that I completely got over my hatred of the bricks and actually began to find them interesting. I had achieved an admiration for the art and science of architecture. Instead of seeing the campus as an ugly mess of dull-colored bricks, I realized that bricks were chosen as a primary building material for a reason: to foster a feeling of permanence and character.

RIT's design is truly an amazing accomplishment. In the book "The Campus as a Work of Art", RIT is listed among the top ten most beautiful campuses in America. There is a large amount of art among the campus buildings, which one may take for granted if he does not possess the knowledge or desire required to appreciate it.

On the east side of campus, among the residence halls, there is a beautiful sundial that was created by sculptor Alistair Bevington. It is possibly the largest one in the country, standing 18 feet in the air and measuring 25 feet across.

José de Rivera's stainless steel sculpture, based on the Mobius Strip, is on the west side of campus. This one-sided abstract form was discovered by the 19th century German mathematician August Ferdinand Mobius.

My favorite piece of on-campus artwork, located on the east side of the Max Lowenthal College of Business, is British abstract sculptor Henry Moore's "Three Reclining Figures." This sculpture is made of cast bronze and rests on (of course) a base of brick. Moore has been proclaimed to be one of the premier sculptors of the 20th century.

I certainly have changed a great deal since my first encounter with RIT. It's hard to believe that I, a closed-minded realist kid from small-town Pennsylvania, went there to study a highly technical field. If it wasn't for the ingenuity of the RIT architects, and friends of mine who picked up on my curiosity about experiencing new things, I don't think that I'd have the great appreciation for art that I currently possess. Now that I have that appreciation my entire outlook on things has changed, and I'm more receptive to ideas and concepts which were previously beyond my cultural horizon. I am thankful to my friends, and to the RIT architects, for helping me to enter the world of the romantic thinkers.

Special thanks to RIT Communications for providing information which was used in the paper.