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Mirrors have long been regarded as treacherous. In Greek mythology, the handsome Narcissus is so enamored of his reflection in the river that he cannot bear to look away. As punishment for his vanity, the gods transform Narcissus into a flower, condemning him to remain beside the mirrored stream forever. In the Grimm’s fairy tale “Snow White,” the Evil Queen has a more anxious relationship to her reflection than Narcissus and constantly asks the mirror to reassure her that she is beautiful. This obsession makes her jealous and cruel. And in our own time, there is the title of Charlie Brooker’s dystopian Netflix series Black Mirror, which, of course, refers to the little desiring machines we all carry in our pockets. Like mirrors, smartphones prey on the sense of vulnerability that comes from self-consciousness. Nina Vasan, a professor of psychology at Stanford University, has found that social media users are hooked less by likes and comments themselves than by the anxious anticipation that comes from their absence. The black mirror never gives us exactly what we want, and this is why we can’t put it down.
Unbelievably, birds have an even more problematic relationship with mirrors than humans do — albeit for different reasons. A recent study by the National Bird Conservancy found that over 1 billion birds each year are killed by flying into buildings in the US alone. And mirrored façades are the cause of most of these deaths. “The increased use of glass in our modern buildings, including large expanses of highly-glazed or ultra-clear glass, presents a serious hazard for birds,” explains the National Audubon Society. “Most birds don’t perceive glass as an obstacle. Instead, they see the things they know and need, such as habitat and open sky, reflected in the glazed surface.” Again, treacherous.
Hudson Yards is not just the newest neighborhood in New York City; it’s the shiniest, a veritable world of mirrors. Photo: 50 Hudson Yards, by Kidfly182, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons
And then there is the issue of energy efficiency. The earliest buildings that employed reflective glass façades used far more energy than traditional solid wall structures because large expanses of single-pane glass transferred heat and cold far more readily than masonry walls, forcing heating and cooling systems to work overtime. While things have improved through the use of double glazing, coatings, and better insulation, curtain wall systems are still not as efficient as well-designed solid wall buildings with smaller window openings and greater thermal mass.
The purpose of these anecdotes is not to discourage the use of reflective façades. Rather, my target in this column is the unthinking use of highly reflective façades given their liabilities. Considering the psychic power and the push and pull of mirrors, why have they become the default for urban office towers? And how are these mirrored urban environments impacting people psychologically?
This latter question has actually been carefully studied. In his 2023 book Humanize: A Maker’s Guide to Designing Our Cities, architect Thomas Heatherwick draws on findings in environmental psychology to argue that visual complexity is essential for urban environments to feel welcoming and “human.” Smooth, shiny surfaces lack this salubrious quality of complexity — especially when they are reflecting other smooth, shiny surfaces, as is the case in areas with multiple adjacent glass buildings. “Scientists have found that when we enter any environment, we unconsciously scan it for information,” Heatherwick explains. “During the millions of years in which our brains were being molded by evolution, we lived in nature. And natural environments are crammed with complexity… The human brain has evolved to express this base level of information, a bit like the body expects base levels of oxygen, water, and food.”
Heatherwick cites a study by the neuroscientist Paul Ellard, which compared the stress levels of people strolling a bustling Lower East Side tenement block to those walking past the Whole Foods in that neighborhood, which takes up a whole block and, at street level, features large reflective windows. He found that those on the bustling, crowded street were far less stressed; subtle environmental clues put them at ease and made them feel less exposed than they did when walking past the shiny facade of the Whole Foods. Perhaps it goes back to the days when our ancestors had to flee sabertooth tigers, but it is a demonstrated fact that people prefer environments with nooks and crannies where they could conceivably hide. And there are no hiding spots inside a hall of mirrors.
In place of smooth, reflective surfaces, architects can opt for texture. It often doesn’t take much. My favorite contemporary building in downtown New York is Frank Gehry’s 8 Spruce Street. It’s nothing special at street level, unfortunately, but the rippled stainless steel façade of the tower is mesmerizing when seen from a distance. The texture catches the light rather than merely reflecting it, and the building seems to change its shape along with shifting light conditions throughout the day. It is shiny but not flat, and this is enough to give it life.
For a mirrored structure that is engaging up close, there is Anish Kapoor’s Cloud Gate in Chicago, which is better known as “The Bean.” This public sculpture encourages people to approach it from multiple angles. The mirrored surface, which is made of stainless steel rather than glass, is stretched and distorted, creating a fractured commentary on the surrounding plaza, not a mere doubling. Unlike the glass and steel towers that Heatherwick laments, Cloud Gate is filled with personality and contributes to a sense of place.
The Tornado is a striking observation deck that is part of the Fenix Museum of Migration in Rotterdam.
A very recent project that thoughtfully employs mirrored surfaces is an observation tower called The Tornado that sits on the rooftop of the Fenix Museum of Migration in Rotterdam. Designed by the Chinese firm MAD Architects as part of a total museum concept designed by the Dutch firm EGM Architects, The Tornado consists of a pair of giant helical staircases that lead up from the top floor of the building and provide a commanding view of the River Mass. The mirrored facade creates an impression of ephemerality, which relates to the expressive purpose of the structure, which seeks to convey the idea of movement. As MAD founder Ma Yansong explains, “The theme migration is about movement, so the staircase is about movement. It’s an architectural element, but also a metaphor; it has a storytelling function; it’s a sculpture.”
There is nothing inherently wrong with mirrors. And there is nothing wrong with mirrored façades, whether the reflective surface is made from glass or stainless steel panels. However, mirrors are far too powerful to incorporate into building designs without a clear purpose. Unlike solid walls, reflective surfaces aren’t calm and reassuring. They draw us in, push us away, and refract their surroundings in disorienting ways. If you must use them, tread carefully.
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Cover Image: Dietmar Rabich, Münster, LVM-Versicherung — 2017 — 6848, via Wikimedia Commons, CC BY-SA 4.0
