Often, architects will obscure their true intentions behind thin walls of illusory prose. These walls let architects do as they please while still hiding what it is that actually pleases them.

USC alum Frank Gehry has been creating junkyard hodgepodges since the ’70s, but when you ask him for his thinking behind each facade, his response will vary from building to building. The Guggenheim in Bilbao uses metallic ribbons to reflect the unique qualities of the sunlight there, but the Walt Disney Concert Hall uses similar metallic ribbons to “democratize classical music,” whatever that means.

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“Walls of Troy,” I hope, will not be putting up its own walls of artistic falsehoods in the name of public appeal. Every self-respecting architect favors certain styles over others; it’s why they design anything in the first place. My own opinions are many and varied, and I think the best way to illustrate them is to discuss some familiar favorites here at USC. 

Mudd Memorial Hall of Philosophy

I want to begin with one of my all-time favorites: Mudd Hall. It is one of the few original 1920s buildings not designed by the father-son duo of Parkinson & Parkinson, who were responsible for the Bovard Administration Building and Wilson Student Union, among others. 

But Mudd Hall’s architect, Ralph Carlon Flewelling, erected a masterpiece to rival them. The soaring clock tower balances the building’s stocky silhouette, and the doubled columns forming the peristyle that surrounds the courtyard leaven the traditionally heavy Romanesque form. There’s a reason why this area is a LinkedIn headshot magnet.

The Hoose Library of Philosophy inside is also one of my favorite places on campus to study. I don’t mind that it’s stuffy, echoey or that there are never any charging ports available for usage during its very limited hours. The mere thought that I could look up and see soaring wooden beams and gorgeous stained glass is enough to draw me inside every time I’m in the area. 

In any other building, its negative qualities would relegate it to unusability, but I’m a sucker for beauty, and I’m okay with sacrificing a few creature comforts to be somewhere I can love to look up.

Annenberg School for Communication and Journalism

But Daniel, you may be asking, do you instead mean Annenberg Hall? Unfortunately, I do not, as any Nikias-era building commits, in my book, the unforgivable sin of conflating the Romanesque, a heavy and rounded style, with the Gothic, a light and pointed style. The blatant historical inaccuracy and visual disharmony created when mashing these two styles is too much for me.

The other Annenberg, though, was created under the singular and unique vision of A. Quincy Jones & Associates in the late ’70s, resulting in a masterwork that blends form and environment exquisitely. I am not one who usually fawns over modernist buildings (I love ornament too much), but Jones’ creative use of landscape is utterly enrapturing. 

Walking around the building, you can see how it dances with the undulations of the landscape with pure grace, using elevated walkways and overhangs to negotiate the steep topography. It integrates so well into its environment that I hardly mind the lack of brick or really any reference to the rest of campus, something that cannot be said of its contemporary, the Watt Hall of Architecture and Fine Arts. 

If the 1988 flick “Twins” were to be recast with buildings, Annenberg would take Schwarzenegger’s part, and Watt Hall DeVito’s.

Dauterive Hall

Once you step into the courtyard, you are transported into one of the best examples of Neo-Romanesque revival on campus. The forms manage to retain the Romanesque genome of stoutness and semicircular arches, yet still feel like they are soaring around you. The layers of floors and patios stack in almost modern ways that tantalize the observer to find a way to explore them. 

It’s why I tend to love Steven B. Sample-era buildings: There’s a commitment to honoring historicism without being afraid to embellish it in tasteful ways. You needn’t do more than look at the marble ornamentation to see what I mean.

But there’s this argument among contemporary architects that historical styles should not be imitated in the present day because the usage of technology removes their authenticity. This thinking is fallacious, though, because the ascription of a style to a particular era is a negation of the kind of evolution that architecture is supposed to undergo. 

Restricting traditional architecture to conservation is absurd because tradition itself is an evolutionary process. Historical styles can be updated with modern thought, as culture evolves and changes through the times. It’s only natural.

And as buildings should and will evolve, so may my opinions. But this is my promise: No walls will block you from seeing it happen.

Daniel Pons is a sophomore majoring in geodesign writing about USC’s architecture and how it impacts the community. His column, “Walls of Troy,” runs every other Monday.

Correction: A previous version of this article referred to Lewis Hall rather than Dauterive Hall. This article was updated at 10:40 a.m. on Feb. 10 to refer specifically to Dauterive Hall. The Daily Trojan regrets this error.