-By Jean Nayar, Photography by Tim Griffith

In reaction to the European modernist trends of the early 20th century, American painters Grant Wood, Thomas Hart Benton, and John Steuart Curry led what became known as the Regionalist movement, which aimed to create an indigenous and democratic American art. Inspired by the rolling hills, big sky, and humble farm structures of America's heartland, their canvases celebrated the rural Midwest. In a similar spirit, the recently constructed Beach Museum on the campus of Kansas State University houses works by Wood, Hart Benton, Curry, and other American artists and graciously reflects and honors the same rural landscape that inspired these American masters.

Originally designed by Austin, Texas-based Moore/Andersson Architects and completed in 1996, the museum echoes the honest forms and reassuring simplicity of the structures on a rural farmstead. The firm completed the design just before the death of Charles Moore, an AIA Gold Medal recipient and one of the firm's principals. The building's design conscientiously aimed to relate visually and historically to the campus and surrounding areas. "We are passionate about contextual design," says the firm's other principal Arthur Andersson, who completed the structure after Moore died in 1993. "Kansas State University was the first of several land-grant 'ag' state schools that were created in the late 19th century by governors of Midwestern states, who dedicated sites and funding to start agricultural colleges in rural settings," says the architect. "The University's founding president wanted a campus of unpretentious, simple, utilitarian buildings made of local limestone quarried near the campus."

In keeping with this vision, the architects created a 26,000-sq.-ft. building, composed of a series of adjoining rectilinear forms, constructed of local limestone and cast concrete, and topped with gabled roofs reminiscent of the barns scattered across the surrounding countryside. When the university called upon Andersson and his new partner Chris Wise, a principal of the firm Andersson•Wise Architects, to design an addition to the museum, they applied the same contextual ideas to the new structure, seamlessly melding old with new, while giving the addition a distinct character.

Sitting at the cross-section between the campus and what is known as Aggieville—the main drag of restaurants, bars, bookstores, and other shops that support student life across the street—the original building was conceived as a gateway between the community and the campus. "We wanted to celebrate the nexus between town and gown, campus and community, so we sited the building to interact with the pedestrian paths that wind through campus beneath the beautiful trees," says Andersson. "We wanted people to experience it as part of a larger network and as a gateway to the campus." As a result, the architects incorporated an arch into a portion of the sprawling structure, which serves—literally and figuratively—as a gate into the arboreal landscape beyond. "The campus contains one of the largest arboretums in the state, with astonishing specimens planted over 100 years ago," Andersson notes.

Like the original structure, the 15,000-sq.-ft. addition to the museum, which is known as the Mary & Morgan Jarvis Wing, comprises a series of interconnected forms, constructed of limestone laid in an ashlar pattern at the base and cast concrete walls with exposed ties above. The two dominant forms of the addition are topped with distinct roof structures, one pitched and the other hipped, to enrich the composition and distinguish one volume from the other. And like the imagery in a Regionalist painting, the material choices and composition of the structure were inspired by the surrounding landscape.

"Driving across Kansas during most seasons, you notice the broad expanse of tan prairie land meeting with the broad expanse of blue sky," says Andersson. The scale, massing, and colors of the new structure conspire to mimic the pervasive views of land and sky. "The limestone base is emblematic of the land, while the cast-in-place concrete walls above become blue in the afternoon as they reflect the hue of the sky," he says. "Also, the concrete has no joins, allowing the mass of the building to be abstracted so it's seen as a sculptural piece rather than as a building."

Much like the decisions an artist might intuitively make about the composition of a painting, the architects conscientiously worked out the composition of the building and how it is perceived from every angle. "Sited on axis with a hill on a path leading toward the campus, we imagined the building as a scenographic experience, picturing how it would look from 100 yards, 20 yards, and as you move through the axes that connect it to the broader context," says Andersson. "It's not a pompous museum. It's restrained with forms and materials that connect it with its place, rather than something that looks like it landed from outer space."

Inside, the architects took a humanist approach and created gallery spaces that feel comfortable. In the tradition of American museums contained within houses, such as the Cooper Hewitt or the Frick, where galleries are arranged like a series of grand living rooms, the galleries in the new wing evoke the simpler spaces of structures common to the Great Plains, such as grain silos and haylofts. Burnished concrete floors in the circulation areas alternate with wood floors in the galleries, which are shaped and scaled to let the art take center stage.

Other subtle touches inside quietly link the interior spaces not only to the art and the surrounding landscape but also to the people and the history of the context. The vivid yellow-green paint on the window mullions, for example, was drawn from a painting by the Scandinavian artist Sven Birger Sandzen of a Midwestern scene, which recalls the bright color of new-growth prairie grass in early spring. The windows also allow views of the outdoors in non-gallery areas. And in one gallery, the architects created a slim, sliver of a window to let in just a shot of natural light. The gesture recalls an idea developed by Native Americans, who weaved the simply patterned rugs and traded with decorative borders. Seeing their handicrafts as open and free as the landscape, the Native Americans were taken aback by the concept and always left a little break in the edges of the rugs to allow the spirit to be free. An outdoor sculpture garden offers another connection between the museum's art and the surrounding environment.

According to museum director Lorne Render, since the new addition opened in October, it has served the museum and its community well. "People find the building exciting. It's a bridge between the community and the campus," he says. "Everyone—from toddlers to university students to seniors—comes to visit. The art is comfortable in the spaces, which allows people to really enjoy it. The building is strong," says Render, "but it doesn't take away from the art and the exhibits.

For a list of who, what, where, please see page 138.