Brandeis’ campus has gotten a lot of flack over the years. It’s included on Complex’s list of “The 50 Ugliest College Campuses Ever,” and many students often comment on the weird mix of architectural styles. Countless online users have cited Brandeis’ ugliness, with one user joking that it would be sneaky if “Brandeis purposely made its campus ugly as a way to influence the types of students who apply there.”
I will admit, Brandeis’ campus does feel a bit janky. There are modernist buildings next to brick-and-concrete boxes, and I often feel a disconnect when walking out of my dorm in Skyline and past Lemberg to go to class in the Mandel Humanities Center. Something feels off about seeing bland brick cubes next to more inspired buildings. There’s also an extremely out-of-place castle, for some reason.
Brandeis’ campus could use some work, but there is one thing that I find truly awe-inspiring about this place: the way it looks in the fall. The way golden leaves dance around me as I walk to class, the distinct crunch of dead foliage along the path in Sachar Woods and the way that East Quad actually looks presentable; there’s just nothing like it.
Looking out the window from a study room in Skyline as I write this article, there’s a perfect example of what I admire about this place. An ancient, twisted tree with golden teardrop leaves hanging off of every branch, shaking gently in the wind. I understand the animosity some Brandeisians have towards our architecture, but I can’t say I empathize with those who can’t admire the more natural beauty of our campus in autumn.
The soft sounds of leaves whirling through the trees, the quiet at night broken only by the soles of my shoes on the occasional maple key,and the multicolored clusters of trees that dot Chapel’s Field and leave me awestruck every time I pass them.
But that’s enough pseudo-poetic ranting on what I like about campus: it certainly needs some work. Pretty trees are just an all-too-faint light in the abyss of the rest of Brandeis’ campus. Certain buildings are literally falling apart. There are high levels of lead in the tap water in the Brown Social Science Center and Edison-Lecks building, mold in Village, rats in the Shapiro Lounge and much more.
The freshman dorms are just gross. For students to pay nearly $4,000 more for housing than the national average and live in these conditions is inexcusable. Some dorms don’t have laundry machines, some dorms don’t have water fountains and others are horrifically hot in the spring yet as cold as Siberia in the winter.
Even Skyline, Brandeis’ “state-of-the-art residence hall” has serious problems, particularly with the glass bridge that connects Skyline North and Skyline South. Bird strikes, or bird-window collisions, happen all too frequently at Brandeis’ newest dorm that prioritizes “sustainability.” Because the glass bridge between Skyline North and Skyline South is almost entirely transparent, birds try to fly through it and end up killing themselves. This problem could easily be fixed with low-cost stickers and films and is a massive architectural oversight that needlessly kills birds.
There are too many unignorable problems with Brandeis’ buildings. Bird strikes are one thing, but dangers like mold, lead and rats are just inexcusable. If Brandeis expects students to pay up to $13,838 to stay in an on-campus dorm, they need to shape up. No amount of pretty leaves that can make up for these numerous egregious health hazards.
Brandeis’ campus is visually pleasant at times, but the countless misplaced drab buildings filled with lead, mold and rats make it difficult to appreciate the abundant natural beauty that can be seen in Chapels Wetlands, Sachar Woods or even in East Quad (if you squint and pretend you’re looking somewhere else). To shake its reputation for being horrifically ugly, Brandeis could use a facelift. Getting rid of the lead, mold and rats wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world either.
