A swathe of something—it could almost be a liquid—swoops out from under the glass overhang above the entrance to the building. It’s as if a liquid has been flung out from under, and frozen in the air.

The liquid is solidified into a gob, a glob, a blob that functions as a roof—a far-flung roof—over the plaza. The roof is mirrored, above and below; it’s an instrument that transfers the site, and transmits the site: the surroundings are formed, and transformed, into a roof.

The roof is pulled up to make a funnel: sunlight shoots down across the plaza, like the spotlights on-stage inside the Performing Arts Center

The roof is pulled down to make columns. At the bottom, the structure is built out into a ring of seats; the pavement below is reflected up onto the roof above you—outside the column, it’s as if you’re sitting inside the ground. The surface parts into an arch: you can enter the column, the surface folds up to make seats inside. Inside the column, you’re outside; the wall that circles around you reflects the sky.