Photos vary widely, but many date to September 2025.
Knowlton Hall. The granddaddy of them all. This article has been a long time coming, and it will probably be the longest Ohio State-related article that I will write for this website (albeit in two parts). I have spent almost four straight years inside this building, and I have learned almost everything there is to know about it. Unfortunately, that means a lot of my sources are anecdotal or lost to time, but the information was generally relayed to me by faculty/staff, so take it with half a grain of salt.
Knowlton Hall is located within the north engineering campus. It is bordered by Woodruff Avenue and the business school to the north, the Tuttle and Northwest Garages to the south, Hitchcock Hall to the east, and Ohio Stadium to the west.
History
Prior to Knowlton Hall’s construction, the site was occupied by Ives Hall. However, instead of documenting that building’s history in its successor’s article, like I would normally do, I have instead granted it its own article to save space within this one.
Historic photo of Ives Hall. (Knowlton Archives)
We’ll begin with some quick context. Brown Hall, now demolished, was built in 1903 and served as the home of the School of Architecture for almost a century. By the end of its lifetime, the building was run-down and too small for the much larger enrollment, even with the inclusion of Ives Hall as extra studio and review space starting in 1988. It was decided that Ives Hall would be extensively renovated/added onto, and the firm Mack Scogin Merrill Elam was commissioned.
After Scogin and Elam came up with design iterations for a year, it seemingly went nowhere. They realized a large amount of the budget would go into the renovation of Ives Hall alone, which would “[compromise] the new part.” Scogin and Elam convinced Ohio State to raze Ives Hall instead and design a completely new building, which is Knowlton Hall as we know it today. Ives Hall’s demolition began in July 2002, and Knowlton Hall’s construction began soon afterwards. Knowlton Hall was completed on July 31, 2004, at a cost of $33 million. It won several awards, including the AIA’s prestigious Architecture Honor Award.
Knowlton Hall was designed in the Contemporary style, framed in concrete and steel, and clad in marble. It was built with 165,000 square feet of space and various features, such as the Architecture Library, KSA Cafe, 65 offices, 45 studio spaces, a basement workshop and archive, and six classrooms (including the auditorium, KN 250). A great deal went into the design, which I will cover in the “Architecture” section.
Portrait of Austin Knowlton. (Knowlton Foundation)
Knowlton Hall is named after Austin “Dutch” Knowlton (1909-2003), an Ohio State alumnus, architect, and construction company owner who donated $10 million for the building’s construction and stipulated its usage of marble. Knowlton graduated from Ohio State with a bachelor’s degree in architecture in 1931, where he was a member of the Alpha Rho Chi fraternity. After working for his father’s construction firm for a few years post-graduation, he founded the Knowlton Construction Company with his brother Clarence in 1937. Knowlton Construction Company was the contractor for numerous buildings across Columbus, including some of Ohio State’s campus architecture. Knowlton died in 2003.
Architecture
I’m giving Knowlton its own “architecture” section, since the building was very intentionally designed. Knowlton Hall’s defining feature is that it is meant to be a pedagogical tool for the students within. (read: the building teaches you stuff.) This is manifested in many of the design choices.
The Aronoff Center. (University of Cincinnati)
Architecture schools at any university are generally bizarrely designed. Ohio’s other well-known school of architecture, the University of Cincinnati’s DAAP, has the funky Postmodern Aronoff Center designed by Peter Eisenman. Knowlton is no exception. Its design is much different than the conventional classroom buildings across campus, regardless of their age.
The most obvious and unique feature of Knowlton Hall is its materiality. The exterior is clad in marble tiles; which are secured to the building via visible metal clips, instead of caulk, which would damage them over time. When Austin Knowlton made his donation to the university, he asked that the building be built of marble. (For reference, classical temples were famously built of marble.) Naturally, this caused issues with the design, because 1. the school of architecture’s pedagogy is too far removed from Beaux-Arts to build anything classically inspired, 2. MSME wasn’t thrilled about this decision, and 3. marble is an extremely expensive material. Mack Scogin Merrill Elam decided on the tile solution. I don’t really mind it, but it’s kind of polarizing across students who aren’t architecture majors--my girlfriend calls it the “shower tile building.” An interesting tidbit I learned during architectural history is that the clips serve an additional purpose beyond simply securing the tiles (what Robert Venturi would call the “double-functioning element”). They cast shadows in the sunlight, which change in shape as the day progresses.
Knowlton’s interior is largely reinforced concrete. This was done in a Modernist/Brutalist “honest use of materials as decoration” manner. The wood formwork used to mold the walls and shafts left prints on them, which were intentionally retained. (This is a Brutalist method known as beton brut.) If you look at the taller piers on the first floor, you can see how much the workers poured each day. The idea is understandable, but I think the end spatial result is rather cold and depressing. If I recall correctly, this was MSME’s intention, as they believe an architecture school is not supposed to make one feel at home. The concrete has also spalled with age in some areas, which has left large chunks missing. Beyond the concrete, the windows and certain other features are framed in Cor-Ten steel. This is a specialized type that deliberately rusts for its exterior protection, as opposed to something like stainless/galvanized steel. I like the touch of color it adds, but it certainly contributes to the industrial aesthetic. (MSME struggled with the budget and would have added more color if possible.)
Spatially, Knowlton is much different than typical buildings at Ohio State. Most academic buildings built through about 1960 are I-shaped, with the entrance being on the long side. They are usually entered through a single-height lobby decorated to varying degrees, and corridors on a perpendicular axis branch off to the classrooms. Knowlton is longer than it is wide and one enters through the short side of the “I,” so there is a very long procession in plan to wherever you’re going. Additionally, the entire first floor is generally open to the space above, so the typical flat ceiling is circumvented. The massive windows and clerestories bring natural light in everywhere, and artificial light is present but less necessary. Traditional classrooms are few, and most studio spaces are wide open spaces. The openness is nice, but it makes the whole building very echoey.
The organization is a shitshow. Everyone who does not work in Knowlton regularly is constantly lamenting how confusing the building is to navigate. The different methods of circulation, unlabeled studio spaces (KSA majors know but nobody else does), and hidden bathrooms are common pitfalls. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: if you have to put up signs everywhere to make sure people know where to go, your building is not designed well. It’s hard to comprehend now given that I basically live there.
Knowlton is probably most well-known for its circulation, after its materiality. Unlike most buildings, which have two (stairs and elevators), it has three, with the addition of a ramp system. The ramps confuse the hell out of non-KSA majors. I understand them but think they could have been executed better. They basically serve as a method to observe what other students are working on and to experience unique areas of the building, which I appreciate and enjoy, but they can be rather cumbersome to navigate and they are not ADA compliant (which was deliberate). Most people take the elevator or stairs, and the ramps are used by visiting high schoolers and their parents, myself when I’m lollygagging, or by people moving big models or whatever to the first floor.
A lesser-known feature of Knowlton is its roof garden and oculus. Above the massive space before the main entrance, there is a small garden on the fourth floor. It’s a fun study area, and looking through the oculus can be pretty cool. Since the building also houses landscape architecture, certain areas of the site are landscaped, such as the south central cutout and northwest side.
A now-missing feature of Knowlton that defined the building was its stairwell graffiti. The bare concrete walls were painted by students for 20 years, ranging from simple tags to serious artistic expression. All of it was recently removed in a controversial move by the administration, which I wrote about in its own separate post. Look, if the architects of the building appreciate and encourage it, is it really so wrong?
Photos
I’m no Carol Highsmith, but I think this photo of the building in its entirety came out nicely:
Knowlton’s east facade is obscured by trees:
A large chunk of the southeast corner is hollow, which includes the building’s east entrance:
This enables circulation through the area while also shading it. The remaining portion that surmounts the space is the roof garden:
A subtle detail that it took even me years to notice is the engraving of Knowlton’s name between the windows:
The northeast wing overlooking this hollow area has glass curtain walls to overlook it. The area with the balcony is the director’s office, while the floor above is graduate studios.
The space below is almost always in shade. I never noticed the little pot-lights in the concrete until now because they are never used:
These exhibits were also in front of the Wexner Center, and I believe they were made by a faculty member:
Massive, irregular columns supporting the roof overhang:
They cast cool shadows:
Oculus and awning from below:
Same premise, but a really oddly colored one (I was shooting on AUTO for a photography assignment):
Trippy…
After the entrance overhang ends, the building continues uninterrupted, but only rather briefly:
It’s odd to me how many of these windows are false and the glass only shows concrete behind.
Looking back at the roof overhang:
In the middle of the south end, a courtyard is created from a missing chunk of the building, whose glass walls appear as if this is a cutaway diagram:
The stone benches are slabs of marble, possibly leftovers from the building’s construction.
Natural vs. man-made:
A view after dark:
The southwest side of the building is much longer. Again, the marble exterior is punctured by glass cutouts in various areas, and the same false windows are present:
One such cutout:
Here’s an old photo of mine looking towards the stadium from this area:
For reference, it was for an old photography class project. My camera named the file DSC_0170--for reference, I’m in the DSC_7000s at this point.
Close-up of the marble tiles:
Note their varying sizes and the shadows cast by the metal clips.
This cutout is the outside portion of the MAT/FAB Lab, where students spray-paint and mix concrete:
Looking back at where we came from:
I sure liked my detail shots of the marble tile that day:
The west side rounds out into this pseudo-tower thingy:
It resolves into a straight line, albeit one that isn’t orthogonal. This diagonal line follows the street and continues across the rest of the facade:
The entire thing:
Some night photography experimentation:
Like the south side, there’s another almost section-like cut going on that reveals glass curtain walls:
The northwest side has an overhang like the east entrance, but it’s lower:
We’ll get to the columns later, I promise.
Hmm…this is almost a Robert Venturi false-front architecture thing going on here. I thought contemporary architects hated Postmodernism.
Lots of different geometries, materials, and angles happening here:
Looking east down the cutout:
This Tuscan column appears to be supporting the walls here:
It’s pretty cool at night.
KSA Cafe overlooks this area, too:
The north side was very difficult to capture due to the sun. (I really need to invest in a shade for my lens.) It was also mostly obscured by the gardens here as well. Here is the northwest corner:
Northeast side:
At least this one came out decent:
It got easier when I was closer, though. Lots of odd intersections in this area:
KSA Cafe area:
Undulating facade:
Nice…
Another cutout into a studio space:
These rather mossy tiles are supported by metal beams, which is unique to this area of the building.
Cool perspectival effect, too:
Wavy path and various odd elements:
The geometry is weird, but I can’t lie, Knowlton is interesting.
Courtyard Columns
Knowlton’s western courtyard has five marble columns representing the Greek and Roman orders of architecture, a feature common on historic buildings but rarely used today. Prepare for a little architectural history lesson as we discuss the orders.
We’ll start from the most basic order and proceed to the most fanciful. First is Tuscan, which was developed by the Romans as a simpler version of the Doric order. It shares the same pedestal and capital, but the shaft is smooth. It was only classified as a separate order during the Renaissance.
The simplicity and solidity of the Tuscan order is close to the Doric, but it follows Ionic proportions instead. In antiquity, it was used on military and industrial architecture.
Next is Doric (middle), the simplest of the three Greek orders. With a similarly simple capital, the shaft is fluted, and the edges bulge outward slightly (entasis). However, this is an example of a Roman Doric column, as it has a pedestal (omitted on Greek Doric columns) and an astragal below the capital.
Doric columns were seen as masculine (if gender roles can even be something conveyed through architecture) due to their simplicity and solidity. When orders are stacked, they are typically the bottom-most.
Ionic (left) is the second Greek order, and aside from its similarly fluted shaft and pedestal, the capital features four spirals on each corner, known as volutes. Volutes can be angled on certain interpretations of the Ionic order (mainly Roman Ionic), but here they are orthogonal. The space between is decorated with motifs such as egg-and-dart.
Ionic columns were perceived as feminine due to their slender proportions, but with the addition of the similar Corinthian order, they were considered “matronly” during the Renaissance.
The builders reversed these last two columns. The older Greek Corinthian column stands at left. Its richly detailed capital features carved acanthus leaves through which stalks project, though the richness of the leaves varies depending on the interpretation. The abacus (slab at the top of the capital) is also curved concavely.
The most fanciful of the original three orders, it was perceived as the most feminine, perhaps like a virgin by Renaissance architects. (Again, I think it’s kind of wacky to think of gender roles in reference to column proportions, but okay.)
At right is the Composite order, an unusual Roman synthesis of the acanthus leaves of the Corinthian and volutes of the Ionic. Like Tuscan columns, it was not perceived as a separate order until the Renaissance, simply as a Roman interpretation of the Corinthian order.
Knowlton Hall is not scheduled for a renovation, according to Framework 3.0. What would renovation even entail in a building like this?
Click here for part 2
Sources:
Various interactions with past and present Knowlton faculty/staff, including Jackie Gargus (history), Todd Gannon (theory), and Amber Bales (Knowlton Archives)
https://www.dwell.com/collection/mack-scogin-on-osus-knowlton-hall-70028477#6
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