When I was growing up, I found myself somewhat regularly in downtown L.A., undoubtedly because of my dad’s political involvements, plus street fairs, events, and other (at that time, anyway) relatively obscure attractions that occasionally drew us there. I can’t remember how the introduction went, exactly, but by the time I was 8, I was in love with the Bonaventure hotel.
Exterior paneled glass elevators let you watch the city spill out before you as you rose, labyrinthine walkways threading themselves between floors, the weird mirrored impenetrability of it: it was a hulking mystery, and I was enchanted.
It’s so strange how long it took me—walking for years through and around the Hyatt to the Ferry Building Farmers market and exploring the public art of the Embarcadero center—to at last exclaim about the floor tile patterns, hey, those are the same designs! And then it was a big unfurling moment of duh – The Hyatt/Embarcadero Center, though different, has all the hallmarks of the Bonaventure, including the elevators (though they’re interior at the Hyatt), curving walkways, and sort of disorienting repetition of elements.
And yes, the architect is the same: John C Portman Jr, a neofuturist (never heard that one before!) architect, “widely known for popularizing hotels and office buildings with multi-storied interior atria….Portman’s plans typically deal with primitives in the forms of symmetrical squares and circles” (from Wikipedia).
To me as a young girl, this fantastical building was Dr. Seussian, with its warren of spiral walkways that seemed to go nowhere in particular except to surprising nooks and crannies of gathering areas that looked the same but different, and felt like tumbling down the rabbit hole into wonderland. So much to get lost in. I don’t know if it’s because of the embers of my childhood experiences, but the SF Hyatt and Embarcadero Center still evoke the same reaction: a little bit of wonderland to explore.