- 1
- 2
- next
- | single page
E-mail
Print
THE pristine lawn spreads before you like a quad that's misplaced its college. The six smart guys of the Astronomers Monument glower stonily in your general direction. Beyond them waits the triple-domed Griffith Observatory, our freshly squeegeed window to the universe, or, as observatory director Edwin C. Krupp likes to say, "the hood ornament of Los Angeles."
Starting at noon Friday, after a nearly five-year closure and $93 million in historic preservation and mostly underground expansion, the public is welcome again to this 1935 building, and so many visitors are expected that the city has set up a temporary timed-reservation and shuttle-bus system from the Los Angeles Zoo and Hollywood & Highland parking areas.
FOR THE RECORD:
Griffith Observatory: In some editions of Thursday's Calendar Weekend section, an article on Griffith Observatory misspelled the first name of Frederick M. Ashley, one of the original architects, as Frederic. —
But before you step inside those arty bronze-and-glass double doors to commune with the cosmos, glance to your right. In the foreground, you'll see a bust of James Dean, reminding us that much of "Rebel Without a Cause" was filmed here half a century ago. Beyond Dean's bronze spit curl, there's the familiar hillside typography of the Hollywood sign. And then, if the sun has already set, you'll see the lights of the city, twinkling geometrically as they dwindle into the southern distance.
Their glow is pollution, telescopically speaking, but for those visitors not counting down the days to the next transit of Mercury, it does look nice.
And that's the thing about Griffith Observatory. Unlike its brethren in places like New York and Chicago, this is an astronomical landmark that's also a Hollywood landmark, a hilltop perch that offers as many simple rewards to those who look down as it does complex rewards to those who look up.
With that in mind, here's a quick guide that's aimed not only at the upward-looking stargazers who hunger for astronomical details, but also the downward-looking grid-scanners who just want to score a view table at the new cafe.
The main floor
Front and center, beneath the '30s murals by Hugo Ballin, the 240-pound brass ball of Griffith's Foucault pendulum swings along its familiar path, steadily knocking down wooden pegs as the hours pass. This is proof that the Earth is turning, although that's not always the easiest connection to make with perplexed children.
Here's what to tell them: "It's the Coriolis effect. Google it when we get home." Then walk away before anybody can ask you about sidereal days.
Along the halls, associate architect and preservation expert Brenda Levin has reclaimed previously blocked-off space to open up several alcoves for new displays designed by C&G Partners of New York. You could call them educational displays — they cover subjects such as tides, seasons and eclipses — but that makes them sound less colorful and striking than they are.
Along the Hall of the Sky — to the right of the pendulum — one display shows the sun creeping across a deep blue sky while cactus shadows lengthen on the desert floor. In another, the moon waxes and wanes.
Nearby these new exhibits stand two old favorites, updated and relocated: the light-bouncing camera obscura that allows visitors to see the landscape outside, projected on a sort of tabletop; and the lightning-imitating Tesla coil, which only looks like a forgotten prop from "Lost in Space." The coil has been in the building since 1937. It has nothing to do with astronomy, as director Krupp admits, but he feared a lynching if he removed it.
When Paul Knappenberger, president of the Adler Planetarium in Chicago, got an advance peek at these halls a few weeks ago, he found the place "spectacular."
In particular, Knappenberger said, he was struck by the displays in the area to the left of the pendulum known as the Hall of the Eye.
With its review of naked-eye astronomy, the invention of the telescope and the development of more sophisticated devices since then, he said, it's basically "a study of how we as humans have extended our own senses to explore the universe. I've seen a lot of exhibits, and I don't remember seeing that done that way anywhere else."
He also liked the live video feeds from the observatory's two rooftop telescopes, which give wheelchair-users a chance to see images they otherwise wouldn't be able to reach.
The planetarium
The main-floor displays are mere sideshow attractions, however, compared with the central domed theater now known as the Samuel Oschin Planetarium.
Starting at noon Friday, after a nearly five-year closure and $93 million in historic preservation and mostly underground expansion, the public is welcome again to this 1935 building, and so many visitors are expected that the city has set up a temporary timed-reservation and shuttle-bus system from the Los Angeles Zoo and Hollywood & Highland parking areas.
FOR THE RECORD:
Griffith Observatory: In some editions of Thursday's Calendar Weekend section, an article on Griffith Observatory misspelled the first name of Frederick M. Ashley, one of the original architects, as Frederic. —
But before you step inside those arty bronze-and-glass double doors to commune with the cosmos, glance to your right. In the foreground, you'll see a bust of James Dean, reminding us that much of "Rebel Without a Cause" was filmed here half a century ago. Beyond Dean's bronze spit curl, there's the familiar hillside typography of the Hollywood sign. And then, if the sun has already set, you'll see the lights of the city, twinkling geometrically as they dwindle into the southern distance.
Their glow is pollution, telescopically speaking, but for those visitors not counting down the days to the next transit of Mercury, it does look nice.
And that's the thing about Griffith Observatory. Unlike its brethren in places like New York and Chicago, this is an astronomical landmark that's also a Hollywood landmark, a hilltop perch that offers as many simple rewards to those who look down as it does complex rewards to those who look up.
With that in mind, here's a quick guide that's aimed not only at the upward-looking stargazers who hunger for astronomical details, but also the downward-looking grid-scanners who just want to score a view table at the new cafe.
The main floor
Front and center, beneath the '30s murals by Hugo Ballin, the 240-pound brass ball of Griffith's Foucault pendulum swings along its familiar path, steadily knocking down wooden pegs as the hours pass. This is proof that the Earth is turning, although that's not always the easiest connection to make with perplexed children.
Here's what to tell them: "It's the Coriolis effect. Google it when we get home." Then walk away before anybody can ask you about sidereal days.
Along the halls, associate architect and preservation expert Brenda Levin has reclaimed previously blocked-off space to open up several alcoves for new displays designed by C&G Partners of New York. You could call them educational displays — they cover subjects such as tides, seasons and eclipses — but that makes them sound less colorful and striking than they are.
Along the Hall of the Sky — to the right of the pendulum — one display shows the sun creeping across a deep blue sky while cactus shadows lengthen on the desert floor. In another, the moon waxes and wanes.
Nearby these new exhibits stand two old favorites, updated and relocated: the light-bouncing camera obscura that allows visitors to see the landscape outside, projected on a sort of tabletop; and the lightning-imitating Tesla coil, which only looks like a forgotten prop from "Lost in Space." The coil has been in the building since 1937. It has nothing to do with astronomy, as director Krupp admits, but he feared a lynching if he removed it.
When Paul Knappenberger, president of the Adler Planetarium in Chicago, got an advance peek at these halls a few weeks ago, he found the place "spectacular."
In particular, Knappenberger said, he was struck by the displays in the area to the left of the pendulum known as the Hall of the Eye.
With its review of naked-eye astronomy, the invention of the telescope and the development of more sophisticated devices since then, he said, it's basically "a study of how we as humans have extended our own senses to explore the universe. I've seen a lot of exhibits, and I don't remember seeing that done that way anywhere else."
He also liked the live video feeds from the observatory's two rooftop telescopes, which give wheelchair-users a chance to see images they otherwise wouldn't be able to reach.
The planetarium
The main-floor displays are mere sideshow attractions, however, compared with the central domed theater now known as the Samuel Oschin Planetarium.
Digg
Twitter
Facebook
StumbleUpon
Save more than