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Blanski describes the cafe as: "... about creating wonderful opportunities for scientists to experience what we call the 'bump-into effect.' It's opportunities for them to get together and share information. That was distinctly part of our mission. We did a lot of choreographic thinking with this facility."

Crafting Exterior Image

For the exterior facades, HGA faced a dilemma. On one hand, parents had been adamant that the institute needed to be warm and inviting. But because the ultimate goal of the facility is to tackle a debilitating illness, it was also important that the architecture reflect an enduring, unyielding presence — the idea that the M.I.N.D. Institute is here to stay.

Blanski and the HGA team believe they reached a delicate balance. The buildings' exteriors are mostly clad in an auburn-colored stone that is warm in tone but strong in character. The masonry palette is also very tactile. "We wanted a material you'd want to engage and touch," Blanski explains. He notes that the work of legendary Bay Area architect Bernard Maybeck was a major inspiration.

The most recognizable visual element of the M.I.N.D. Institute is its curving, double-height rotunda, which serves as the official entry for the complex. It achieves the architects' sought-after balance of iconic scale and intimate feel by deftly combining a grand, arcing form with inviting tones and materials.

Similar to the curving rotundas of many capitol buildings, but, crucially, allowing in more daylight, it is monumental without losing its human scale. Several mature oak trees on the original site that were saved but moved to make way for the new buildings also soften the architecture.

Calming the Interior

Inside is another iconic aspect of the institute, the "emerging wall." Forming a division along the main stairway, it consists of a series of panels cast in randomly varying levels of translucency. "One of the things we heard often from parents is that kids with autism don't like that there's a cloud between them and the rest of the world," O'Malley explains.

"One of the parents described it as a fog between him and his child, and his child would come in and out of it," O'Malley continues. "The emerging wall's panels represent the degrees of cloudiness or fog between kids with autism and the rest of the world. The idea of the emerging wall is that eventually these kids will be able to emerge out of this fog as we find a cure."

Indeed, while finding a cure for autism remains a long-term and daunting task, the M.I.N.D. Institute represents in both symbolic and real terms the coordinated and passionate effort by many people to collectively work toward a day when that fog will clear.

As the cranes and scaffolding have given way to a world-class medical facility that's as friendly as it is determined, the struggle of autistic children and those who love them is now embodied in the architecture of the M.I.N.D. Institute.

Brian Libby is a Portland, Oregon-based freelance writer who has also published in Metropolis, The New York Times, Christian Science Monitor, and Architectural Record.

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Reception courtyard, with dining terrace above. Photo: Richard Barnes Entry lobby of the M.I.N.D. Institute, without the bold primary colors often found in pediatric clinics. Photo: Richard Barnes The M.I.N.D. Institute at the University of California Davis Medical Center by Hammel, Green and Abrahamson (HGA). Photo: Richard Barnes In the reception court, sunshades selectively filter incoming sunlight. Photo: Richard Barnes Playground at the M.I.N.D. Institute. Photo: Richard Barnes East side of the M.I.N.D. Institute. Photo: Richard Barnes Family waiting area. Photo: Richard Barnes Family waiting area. Photo: Richard Barnes "Emerging wall" at the main stair. Photo: Richard Barnes Auditorium in the resource center. Photo: Richard Barnes   Click on thumbnail images to view full-size pictures.