1948–1956: early career with Webb and Knapp In the spring of 1948, Pei was recruited by New York real estate magnate
William Zeckendorf to join a staff of architects for his firm of
Webb and Knapp to design buildings around the country. Pei found Zeckendorf's personality the opposite of his own; his new boss was known for his loud speech and gruff demeanor. Nevertheless, they became good friends and Pei found the experience personally enriching. Zeckendorf was well connected politically, and Pei enjoyed learning about the social world of New York's city planners. His first project for Webb and Knapp was an apartment building, which received funding from the
Housing Act of 1949. Pei's design was based on a circular tower with concentric rings. The areas closest to the supporting pillar handled utilities and circulation, and the apartments themselves were located toward the outer edge. Zeckendorf loved the design and even showed it off to Le Corbusier when they met. The cost of such an unusual design was too high, however, and the building never progressed beyond the model stage. , Atlanta|alt=131 Ponce de Leon Avenue in Atlanta Pei finally saw his architecture come to life in 1949, when he designed a two-story
corporate building for Gulf Oil in
Atlanta, Georgia. The building was demolished in February 2013 although the front façade was retained as part of an apartment development. His use of marble for the exterior
curtain wall brought praise from the journal
Architectural Forum. Pei's designs echoed the work of
Mies van der Rohe in the beginning of his career as also shown in his own weekend-house in
Katonah, New York in 1952. Soon, Pei was so inundated with projects that he asked Zeckendorf for assistants, which he chose from his associates at the GSD, including
Henry N. Cobb and
Ulrich Franzen. They set to work on a variety of proposals, including the
Roosevelt Field Shopping Mall on
Long Island. The team also redesigned the Webb and Knapp office building, transforming Zeckendorf's office into a circular space with
teak walls and a glass
clerestory. They also installed a control panel into the desk that allowed their boss to control the lighting in his office. The project took one year and exceeded its budget, but Zeckendorf was delighted with the results. to be "functionally and visually related" to one another.|alt=The L'Enfant Plaza complex of office buildings. Two buildings are visible, arranged around a courtyard. In 1952, Pei and his team began work on a series of projects in
Denver, Colorado. The first of these was the Mile High Center, which compressed the core building into less than 25 percent of the total site; the rest is adorned with an exhibition hall and fountain-dotted plazas. One block away, Pei's team also redesigned Denver's Courthouse Square, which combined office spaces, commercial venues, and hotels. These projects helped Pei conceptualize architecture as part of the larger urban geography: "I learned the process of development, and about the city as a living organism." These lessons, he said, became essential for later projects. Pei's associate
Araldo Cossutta was the lead architect for the plaza's North Building and South Building. In 1955, Pei's group took a step toward institutional independence from Webb and Knapp by establishing a new firm called I. M. Pei & Associates. (The name changed later to I. M. Pei & Partners.) They gained the freedom to work with other companies, but continued working primarily with Zeckendorf. The new firm distinguished itself through the use of detailed
architectural models. They took on the
Kips Bay residential area on the
East Side of
Manhattan, where Pei set up
Kips Bay Towers, two large long towers of apartments with recessed windows (to provide shade and privacy) in a neat grid, adorned with rows of trees. Pei involved himself in the construction process at Kips Bay, even inspecting the bags of cement to check for consistency of color. The company continued its urban focus with the
Society Hill project in central
Philadelphia. Pei designed the
Society Hill Towers, a three-building residential block injecting cubist design into the local 18th-century milieu. As with previous projects, abundant green spaces were central to Pei's vision, which added traditional
townhouses to aid the transition from classical to modern design. From 1958 to 1963, Pei and
Ray Affleck developed a key downtown block of
Montreal in a phased process that involved one of Pei's most admired structures in the Commonwealth, the cruciform tower known as the Royal Bank Plaza (
Place Ville Marie). According to
The Canadian Encyclopedia : Although those projects were satisfying, Pei wanted to establish an independent name for himself. In 1959, he was approached by MIT to design a building for its
Earth science program. The
Green Building continued the grid design of Kips Bay and Society Hill. The pedestrian walkway on the ground floor, however, was prone to sudden gusts of wind, which embarrassed Pei. "Here I was from MIT," he said, "and I didn't know about
wind-tunnel effects." At the same time, he co-designed the
Luce Memorial Chapel at
Tunghai University in
Taichung, Taiwan. The soaring structure, commissioned by the same organization that had run his middle school in Shanghai, broke severely from the cubist grid patterns of his urban projects. The challenge of coordinating those projects took an artistic toll on Pei. He found himself responsible for acquiring new building contracts and supervising the plans for them. As a result, he felt disconnected from the actual creative work. "Design is something you have to put your hand to," he said. "While my people had the luxury of doing one job at a time, I had to keep track of the whole enterprise." Pei's dissatisfaction reached its peak at a time when financial problems began plaguing Zeckendorf's firm. I. M. Pei and Associates officially broke from Webb and Knapp in 1960, which benefited Pei creatively but pained him personally. He had developed a close friendship with Zeckendorf, and both men were sad to part ways.
NCAR and related projects of the
National Center for Atmospheric Research to look "as if it were carved out of the mountain". Pei was able to return to hands-on design when he was approached in 1961 by
Walter Orr Roberts to design the new
Mesa Laboratory for the
National Center for Atmospheric Research outside
Boulder, Colorado. The project differed from Pei's earlier urban work because it rested in an open area in the foothills of the
Rocky Mountains. He drove around the region with his wife, visiting assorted buildings and surveying the natural environs. He was impressed by the
United States Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs, but felt it was "detached from nature". The conceptualization stages were important for Pei, presenting a need and an opportunity to break from the Bauhaus tradition. He later recalled the long periods of time he spent in the area: "I recalled the places I had seen with my mother when I was a little boy—the mountaintop Buddhist retreats. There in the Colorado mountains, I tried to listen to the silence again—just as my mother had taught me. The investigation of the place became a kind of religious experience for me." To this end, he called for a rock-treatment process that could color the buildings to match the nearby mountains. He also set the complex back on the mesa overlooking the city, and designed the approaching road to be long, winding, and indirect. Roberts disliked Pei's initial designs, referring to them as "just a bunch of towers". Roberts intended his comments as typical of scientific experimentation, rather than artistic critique, but Pei was frustrated. His second attempt, however, fitted Roberts' vision perfectly: a spaced-out series of clustered buildings, joined by lower structures and complemented by two underground levels. The complex used many elements of
cubist design, and the walkways were arranged to increase the probability of casual encounters among colleagues. in the mid-1960s. Once the laboratory was built, several problems with its construction became apparent. Leaks in the roof caused difficulties for researchers, and the shifting of clay soil beneath the building caused cracks which were expensive to repair. Still, both architect and project manager were pleased with the final result. Pei referred to the NCAR complex as his "breakout building", and he remained a friend of Roberts until the scientist died in . The success of NCAR brought renewed attention to Pei's design acumen. He was recruited to work on a variety of projects, including the
S. I. Newhouse School of Public Communications at
Syracuse University, the
Everson Museum of Art in
Syracuse, New York, the
Sundrome terminal at
John F. Kennedy International Airport in New York City, and dormitories at
New College of Florida.
Kennedy Library "the most important commission" in his life. After President
John F. Kennedy was
assassinated in , his family and friends discussed constructing a library that would serve as a fitting memorial. A committee was formed to advise Kennedy's widow
Jacqueline, who would make the final decision. The group deliberated for months and considered many famous architects. Eventually, Kennedy chose Pei to design the library, based on two considerations. First, she appreciated the variety of ideas he had used for earlier projects. "He didn't seem to have just one way to solve a problem," she said. "He seemed to approach each commission thinking only of it and then develop a way to make something beautiful." Ultimately, however, Kennedy made her choice based on her personal connection with Pei. Calling it "really an emotional decision", she explained: "He was so full of promise, like Jack; they were born in the same year. I decided it would be fun to take a great leap with him." The project was plagued with problems from the outset. President Kennedy had begun considering the structure of his library soon after taking office, and he wanted to include archives from his administration, a museum of personal items, and a political science institute. After the assassination, the list expanded to include a fitting memorial tribute to the slain president. The variety of necessary inclusions complicated the design process and caused significant delays. Pei's first proposed design included a large glass pyramid that would fill the interior with sunlight, meant to represent the optimism and hope that Kennedy's administration had symbolized for so many in the United States. Mrs. Kennedy liked the design, but resistance began in
Cambridge, the first proposed site for the building, as soon as the project was announced. Many community members worried that the library would become a tourist attraction, causing particular problems with traffic congestion. Others worried that the design would clash with the architectural feel of nearby
Harvard Square. By the mid-1970s, Pei tried proposing a new design, but the library's opponents resisted every effort. These events pained Pei, who had sent all three of his sons to Harvard, and although he rarely discussed his frustration, it was evident to his wife. "I could tell how tired he was by the way he opened the door at the end of the day," she said. "His footsteps were dragging. It was very hard for I. M. to see that so many people didn't want the building." Finally the project moved to
Columbia Point, near the
University of Massachusetts Boston. The new site was less than ideal; it was located on an old landfill, and just over a large sewage pipe. Pei's architectural team added more fill to cover the pipe and developed an elaborate ventilation system to conquer the odor. A new design was unveiled, combining a large square glass-enclosed atrium with a triangular tower and a circular walkway. The
John F. Kennedy Presidential Library and Museum was dedicated on October 20, 1979. Critics generally liked the finished building, but the architect himself was unsatisfied. The years of conflict and compromise had changed the nature of the design, and Pei felt that the final result lacked its original passion. "I wanted to give something very special to the memory of President Kennedy," he said in 2000. "It could and should have been a great project."
"Pei Plan" in Oklahoma City The Pei Plan was a failed urban redevelopment initiative designed for downtown
Oklahoma City, Oklahoma, in 1964. The plan called for the demolition of hundreds of old downtown structures in favor of renewed parking, office building, and retail developments, in addition to public projects such as the Myriad Convention Center and the Myriad Botanical Gardens. It was the dominant template for downtown development in Oklahoma City from its inception through the 1970s. The plan generated mixed results and opinion, largely succeeding in re-developing office building and parking infrastructure but failing to attract its anticipated retail and residential development. Significant public resentment also developed as a result of the destruction of multiple historic structures. As a result, Oklahoma City's leadership avoided large-scale urban planning for downtown throughout the 1980s and early 1990s, until the passage of the
Metropolitan Area Projects (MAPS) initiative in 1993.
Providence's Cathedral Square Another city which turned to Pei for urban renewal during this time was
Providence, Rhode Island. In the late 1960s, Providence hired Pei to redesign
Cathedral Square, a once-bustling civic center which had become neglected and empty, as part of an ambitious larger plan to redesign downtown. The Chamber of Commerce building and Bicentennial Park were completed from his plan. In 1976, Pei designed a distinctive modern penthouse that was added to the roof of architect
William Lee Stoddart's historic
Lamar Building, designed in 1916. In 1980, Pei and his company designed the Augusta Civic Center, now known as the
James Brown Arena.
Dallas City Hall to "convey an image of the people". Kennedy's assassination also led indirectly to another commission for Pei's firm. In 1964 the acting mayor of Dallas,
Erik Jonsson, began working to change the community's image. Dallas was known and disliked as the city where the president had been killed, but Jonsson began a program designed to initiate a community renewal. One of the goals was a new city hall, which could be a "symbol of the people". Jonsson, a co-founder of
Texas Instruments, learned about Pei from his associate
Cecil Howard Green, who had recruited the architect for MIT's
Earth Sciences building. Pei's approach to the new
Dallas City Hall mirrored those of other projects; he surveyed the surrounding area and worked to make the building fit. In the case of Dallas, he spent days meeting with residents of the city and was impressed by their civic pride. He also found that the skyscrapers of the downtown business district dominated the skyline, and sought to create a building that could face the tall buildings and represent the importance of the public sector. He spoke of creating "a public-private dialogue with the commercial high-rises". Working with his associate Theodore Musho, Pei developed a design centered on a building with a top much wider than the bottom; the facade leans at an angle of 34 degrees, which shades the building from the Texas sun. A plaza stretches out before the building, and a series of support columns holds it up. It was influenced by Le Corbusier's
High Court building in Chandigarh, India; Pei sought to use the significant overhang to unify the building and plaza. The project cost much more than initially expected, and took 11 years to complete. Revenue was secured in part by including a subterranean parking garage. The interior of the city hall is large and spacious; windows in the ceiling above the eighth floor fill the main space with light. The city of Dallas received the building well, and a local television news crew found unanimous approval of the new city hall when it officially opened to the public in 1978. Pei himself considered the project a success, even as he worried about the arrangement of its elements. He said: "It's perhaps stronger than I would have liked; it's got more strength than finesse." He felt that his relative lack of experience left him without the necessary design tools to refine his vision, but the community liked the city hall enough to invite him back. Over the years he went on to design five additional buildings in the Dallas area. In October 2025, city leaders began discussing the future of the Dallas city hall building, including an estimated $100 million in estimated deferred maintenance and repairs needed, some of which are serious enough to threaten the building's structural integrity. Among the considerations is a plan to demolish the building and make way for a new arena for the
Dallas Mavericks. While Pei and Musho were coordinating the Dallas project, their associate
Henry Cobb had taken the helm for a commission in Boston.
John Hancock Insurance chairman Robert Slater hired I. M. Pei & Partners to design a building that could overshadow the
Prudential Tower, erected by
their rival. After the firm's first plan was discarded due to a need for more office space, Cobb developed a new plan around a towering parallelogram, slanted away from the
Trinity Church and accented by a wedge cut into each narrow side. To minimize the visual impact, the building was covered in large reflective glass panels; Cobb said this would make the building a "background and foil" to the older structures around it. When the
Hancock Tower was finished in 1976, it was the tallest building in
New England. , Cornell University Serious issues of execution became evident in the tower almost immediately. Many glass panels fractured in a windstorm during construction in 1973. Some detached and fell to the ground, causing no injuries but sparking concern among Boston residents. The entire tower was reglazed with smaller panels, significantly increasing costs. Hancock sued the glass manufacturers, Libbey-Owens-Ford, as well as I. M. Pei & Partners, for submitting plans that were "not good and workmanlike". LOF countersued Hancock for defamation, accusing Pei's firm of poor use of their materials; I. M. Pei & Partners sued LOF in return. All three companies settled out of court in 1981. The project became an
albatross for Pei's firm. Pei himself refused to discuss it for many years. The pace of new commissions slowed and the firm's architects began looking overseas for opportunities. Cobb worked in Australia and Pei took on jobs in Singapore,
Iran, and
Kuwait. Although it was a difficult time for everyone involved, Pei later reflected with patience on the experience. "Going through this trial toughened us," he said. "It helped to cement us as partners; we did not give up on each other."
National Gallery East Building, Washington, D.C. In the mid-1960s, directors of the
National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C., declared the need for a new building.
Paul Mellon, a primary benefactor of the gallery and a member of its building committee, set to work with his assistant
J. Carter Brown (who became gallery director in 1969) to find an architect. The new structure would be located to the east of the original building, and tasked with two functions: offer a large space for public appreciation of various popular collections; and house office space as well as archives for scholarship and research. They likened the scope of the new facility to the
Library of Alexandria. After inspecting Pei's work at the
Des Moines Art Center in Iowa and the
Johnson Museum at
Cornell University, they offered him the commission. Pei took to the project with vigor, and set to work with two young architects he had recently recruited to the firm,
William Pedersen and
Yann Weymouth. Their first obstacle was the unusual shape of the building site, a
trapezoid of land at the intersection of
Constitution and
Pennsylvania Avenues. Inspiration struck Pei in 1968, when he scrawled a rough diagram of two triangles on a scrap of paper. The larger building would be the public gallery; the smaller would house offices and archives. This triangular shape became a singular vision for the architect. As the date for groundbreaking approached, Pedersen suggested to his boss that a slightly different approach would make construction easier. Pei simply smiled and said: "No compromises." The growing popularity of art museums presented unique challenges to the architecture. Mellon and Pei both expected large crowds of people to visit the new building, and they planned accordingly. To this end, Pei designed a large lobby roofed with enormous skylights. Individual galleries are located along the periphery, allowing visitors to return after viewing each exhibit to the spacious main room. A large
mobile sculpture by American artist
Alexander Calder was later added to the lobby. Pei hoped the lobby would be exciting to the public in the same way as the central room of the
Guggenheim Museum is in New York City. The modern museum, he said later, "must pay greater attention to its educational responsibility, especially to the young". '' about the East Building's "shocking fun-house atmosphere". The East Building was honored on May 30, 1978, two days before its public unveiling, with a black-tie party attended by celebrities, politicians, benefactors, and artists. When the building opened, popular opinion was enthusiastic. Large crowds visited the new museum, and critics generally voiced their approval.
Ada Louise Huxtable wrote in
The New York Times that Pei's building was "a palatial statement of the creative accommodation of contemporary art and architecture". The sharp angle of the smaller building has been a particular note of praise for the public; over the years it has become stained and worn from the hands of visitors. Some critics disliked the unusual design, however, and criticized the reliance on triangles throughout the building. Others took issue with the large main lobby, particularly its attempt to lure casual visitors. In his review for
Artforum, critic Richard Hennessy described a "shocking fun-house atmosphere" and "aura of ancient Roman patronage".
Fragrant Hills, China After U.S. President
Richard Nixon made his famous
1972 visit to China, a wave of exchanges took place between the two countries. One of these was a delegation of the
American Institute of Architects in 1974, which Pei joined. It was his first trip back to China since leaving in 1935. He was favorably received, returned the welcome with positive comments, and a series of lectures ensued. Pei noted in one lecture that since the 1950s Chinese architects had been content to imitate Western styles; he urged his audience in one lecture to search China's native traditions for inspiration. in China. "Many people thought I was being reactionary," he said. In 1978, Pei was asked to initiate a project for his home country. After surveying a number of different locations, Pei fell in love with a valley that had once served as an imperial garden and hunting preserve known as
Fragrant Hills. The site housed a decrepit hotel; Pei was invited to tear it down and build a new one. As usual, he approached the project by carefully considering the context and purpose. Likewise, he considered modernist styles inappropriate for the setting. Thus, he said, it was necessary to find "a third way". After visiting his ancestral home in Suzhou, Pei created a design based on some simple but nuanced techniques he admired in traditional residential Chinese buildings. Among these were abundant gardens, integration with nature, and consideration of the relationship between enclosure and opening. Pei's design included a large central atrium covered by glass panels that functioned much like the large central space in his East Building of the National Gallery. Openings of various shapes in walls invited guests to view the natural scenery beyond. Younger Chinese who had hoped the building would exhibit some of Cubist flavor for which Pei had become known were disappointed, but the new hotel found more favor with government officials and architects. The hotel, with 325 guest rooms and a four-story central atrium, was designed to fit perfectly into its natural habitat. The trees in the area were of special concern, and particular care was taken to cut down as few as possible. He worked with an expert from Suzhou to preserve and renovate a water maze from the original hotel, one of only five in the country. Pei was also meticulous about the arrangement of items in the garden behind the hotel; he even insisted on transporting of rocks from a location in southwest China to suit the natural aesthetic. An associate of Pei's said later that he never saw the architect so involved in a project. During construction, a series of mistakes collided with the nation's lack of technology to strain relations between architects and builders. Whereas 200 or so workers might have been used for a similar building in the US, the Fragrant Hill project employed over 3,000 workers. This was mostly because the construction company lacked the sophisticated machines used elsewhere. The problems continued for months, until Pei had an uncharacteristically emotional moment during a meeting with Chinese officials. He later explained that his actions included "shouting and pounding the table" in frustration. The design staff noticed a difference in the manner of work among the crew after the meeting. As the opening neared, however, Pei found the hotel still needed work. He began scrubbing floors with his wife and ordered his children to make beds and vacuum floors. The project's difficulties took an emotional and physical strain on the Pei family. The Fragrant Hill Hotel opened on October 17, 1982, but quickly fell into disrepair. A member of Pei's staff returned for a visit several years later and confirmed the dilapidated condition of the hotel. He and Pei attributed this to the country's general unfamiliarity with deluxe buildings. The Chinese architectural community at the time gave the structure little attention, as their interest at the time centered on the work of American
postmodernists such as
Michael Graves.
Javits Center, New York : "The complications exceeded even my expectations." As the Fragrant Hill project neared completion, Pei began work on the
Javits Center in New York City, for which his associate
James Freed served as lead designer. Hoping to create a vibrant community institution in what was then a run-down neighborhood on Manhattan's west side, Freed developed a glass-coated structure with an intricate
space frame of interconnected metal rods and spheres. The convention center was plagued from the start by budget problems and construction blunders. City regulations forbid a general contractor having final authority over the project, so architects and program manager Richard Kahan had to coordinate the wide array of builders, plumbers, electricians, and other workers. The forged steel globes to be used in the space frame came to the site with hairline cracks and other defects: 12,000 were rejected. These and other problems led to media comparisons with the disastrous Hancock Tower. One New York City official blamed Kahan for the difficulties, indicating that the building's architectural flourishes were responsible for delays and financial crises. The Javits Center opened on April 3, 1986, to a generally positive reception.
Grand Louvre, Paris When
François Mitterrand was elected President of France in 1981, he laid out an ambitious plan for a variety of construction projects. One of these was the renovation of the
Louvre. Mitterrand appointed a civil servant named to oversee it. After visiting museums in Europe and the United States, including the U.S. National Gallery, he asked Pei to join the team. The architect made three secretive trips to Paris, to determine the feasibility of the project; only one museum employee knew why he was there. Pei finally agreed that a new construction project was not only possible, but necessary for the future of the museum. He thus became the first foreign architect to work on the Louvre. The heart of the new design included not only a renovation of the
Cour Napoléon in the midst of the buildings, but also a transformation of the interiors. Pei proposed a central entrance, not unlike the lobby of the National Gallery East Building, which would link the three major wings around the central space. Below would be a complex of additional floors for research, storage, and maintenance purposes. At the center of the courtyard he designed a
glass and steel pyramid, first proposed with the Kennedy Library, to serve as entrance and anteroom skylight. It was mirrored by an
inverted pyramid to the west, to reflect sunlight into the complex. These designs were partly an homage to the fastidious geometry of the French landscape architect
André Le Nôtre. Pei also found the pyramid shape best suited for stable transparency, and considered it "most compatible with the architecture of the Louvre, especially with the faceted planes of its roofs". Some sections of the French public also reacted harshly to the design, mostly because of the proposed pyramid. One critic called it a "gigantic, ruinous gadget"; another charged Mitterrand with "despotism" for inflicting Paris with the "atrocity". Some condemnations carried
nationalistic overtones. One opponent wrote: "I am surprised that one would go looking for a Chinese architect in America to deal with the historic heart of the capital of France." was opened to the public on October 14, 1988, and the Pyramid entrance was opened the following March. By this time, public opposition had softened; a poll found a 56 percent approval rating for the pyramid, with 23 percent still opposed. The newspaper
Le Figaro had vehemently criticized Pei's design, but later celebrated the tenth anniversary of its magazine supplement at the pyramid.
Prince Charles of Britain surveyed the new site with curiosity, and declared it "marvelous, very exciting". A writer in
Le Quotidien de Paris wrote: "The much-feared pyramid has become adorable." The pyramid achieved further widespread international recognition for its central role in the plot at the denouement of
The Da Vinci Code by
Dan Brown and its appearance in the final scene of the subsequent
screen adaptation. The
Louvre Pyramid became Pei's most famous structure.
Meyerson Symphony Center, Dallas The opening of the Louvre Pyramid coincided with four other projects on which Pei had been working, prompting architecture critic
Paul Goldberger to declare 1989 "the year of Pei" in
The New York Times. It was also the year in which Pei's firm changed its name to
Pei Cobb Freed & Partners, to reflect the increasing stature and prominence of his associates. At the age of 72, Pei had begun thinking about retirement, but continued working long hours to see his designs come to light. in
Dallas. One of the projects took Pei back to Dallas, Texas, to design the
Morton H. Meyerson Symphony Center. The success of city's performing artists, particularly the
Dallas Symphony Orchestra then led by conductor
Eduardo Mata, led to interest by city leaders in creating a modern center for musical arts that could rival the best halls in Europe. The organizing committee contacted 45 architects, but at first Pei did not respond, thinking that his work on the Dallas City Hall had left a negative impression. One of his colleagues from that project, however, insisted that he meet with the committee. He did and, although it would be his first concert hall, the committee voted unanimously to offer him the commission. As one member put it: "We were convinced that we would get the world's greatest architect putting his best foot forward." Because its main purpose was the presentation of live music, the hall needed a design focused on
acoustics first, then public access and exterior aesthetics. To this end, a professional sound technician was hired to design the interior. He proposed a
shoebox auditorium, used in the acclaimed designs of top European symphony halls such as the
Amsterdam Concertgebouw and
Vienna Musikverein. Pei drew inspiration for his adjustments from the designs of the German architect
Johann Balthasar Neumann, especially the
Basilica of the Fourteen Holy Helpers. He also sought to incorporate some of the panache of the
Paris Opéra designed by
Charles Garnier. Pei's design placed the rigid shoebox at an angle to the surrounding street grid, connected at the north end to a long rectangular office building, and cut through the middle with an assortment of circles and cones. The design attempted to reproduce with modern features the acoustic and visual functions of traditional elements like
filigree. The project was risky: its goals were ambitious and any unforeseen acoustic flaws would be virtually impossible to remedy after the hall's completion. Pei admitted that he did not completely know how everything would come together. "I can imagine only 60 percent of the space in this building," he said during the early stages. "The rest will be as surprising to me as to everyone else." As the project developed, costs rose steadily and some sponsors considered withdrawing their support. Billionaire tycoon
Ross Perot made a donation of US$10 million, on the condition that it be named in honor of Morton H. Meyerson, the longtime patron of the arts in Dallas. The building opened and immediately garnered widespread praise, especially for its acoustics. After attending a week of performances in the hall, a music critic for
The New York Times wrote an enthusiastic account of the experience and congratulated the architects. One of Pei's associates told him during a party before the opening that the symphony hall was "a very mature building"; he smiled and replied: "Ah, but did I have to wait this long?"
Bank of China, Hong Kong A new offer had arrived for Pei from the Chinese government in 1982. With an eye toward the
handover of Hong Kong from the British in 1997, authorities in China sought Pei's aid on a new tower for the local branch of the
Bank of China. The Chinese government was preparing for a new wave of engagement with the outside world and sought a tower to represent modernity and economic strength. Given the elder Pei's history with the bank before the Communist takeover, government officials visited the 89-year-old man in New York to gain approval for his son's involvement. Pei then spoke with his father at length about the proposal. Although the architect remained pained by his experience with Fragrant Hills, he agreed to accept the commission. The proposed site in Hong Kong's
Central District was less than ideal; a tangle of highways lined it on three sides. The area had also been home to a headquarters for Japanese military police during World War II, and was notorious for prisoner torture. The small parcel of land made a tall tower necessary, and Pei had usually shied away from such projects; in Hong Kong especially, the skyscrapers lacked any real architectural character. Lacking inspiration and unsure of how to approach the building, Pei took a weekend vacation to the family home in
Katonah, New York. There he found himself experimenting with a bundle of sticks until he happened upon a cascading sequence. Pei felt that his design for the
Bank of China Tower needed to reflect "the aspirations of the Chinese people". The design that he developed for the skyscraper was not only unique in appearance, but also sound enough to pass the city's rigorous standards for wind-resistance. The building is composed of four triangular shafts rising up from a square base, supported by a visible
truss structure that distributes stress to the four corners of the base. Using the reflective glass that had become something of a trademark for him, Pei organized the facade around diagonal bracing in a union of structure and form that reiterates the triangle motif established in the plan. At the top, he designed the roofs at sloping angles to match the rising aesthetic of the building. Some influential advocates of
feng shui in Hong Kong and China criticized the design, and Pei and government officials responded with token adjustments. As the tower neared completion, Pei was shocked to witness the government's massacre of unarmed civilians at the
Tiananmen Square protests of 1989. He wrote an opinion piece for
The New York Times titled "China Won't Ever Be the Same", in which he said that the killings "tore the heart out of a generation that carries the hope for the future of the country". The massacre deeply disturbed his entire family, and he wrote that "China is besmirched." Using a glass wall for the entrance, similar in appearance to his Louvre pyramid, Pei coated the exterior of the main building in white metal, and placed a large cylinder on a narrow perch to serve as a performance space. The combination of off-centered wraparounds and angled walls was, Pei said, designed to provide "a sense of tumultuous youthful energy, rebelling, flailing about". The building opened in 1995, and was received with moderate praise.
The New York Times called it "a fine building", but Pei was among those who felt disappointed with the results. The museum's early beginnings in New York combined with an unclear mission created a fuzzy understanding among project leaders for precisely what was needed. Although the city of Cleveland benefited greatly from the new tourist attraction, Pei was unhappy with it. In 1995, Pei was hired to design an extension to the
Deutsches Historisches Museum, or German Historical Museum in Berlin. Returning to the challenge of the East Building of the U.S. National Gallery, Pei worked to combine a
modernist approach with a classical main structure. He described the glass cylinder addition as a "beacon", and topped it with a glass roof to allow plentiful sunlight inside. Pei had difficulty working with German government officials on the project; their utilitarian approach clashed with his passion for aesthetics. "They thought I was nothing but trouble", he said. Pei also worked at this time on two projects for a
new Japanese religious movement called
Shinji Shumeikai. He was approached by the movement's spiritual leader, Kaishu Koyama, who impressed the architect with her sincerity and willingness to give him significant artistic freedom. One of the buildings was a bell tower, designed to resemble the
bachi used when playing traditional instruments like the
shamisen. Pei was unfamiliar with the movement's beliefs, but explored them in order to represent something meaningful in the tower. As he said: "It was a search for the sort of expression that is not at all technical." was partly inspired by a story from fourth-century Chinese poet
Tao Yuanming. The experience was rewarding for Pei, and he agreed immediately to work with the group again. The new project was the
Miho Museum, to display Koyama's collection of
tea ceremony artifacts. Pei visited the site in
Shiga Prefecture, and during their conversations convinced Koyama to expand her collection. She conducted a global search and acquired more than 300 items showcasing the history of the
Silk Road. One major challenge was the approach to the museum. The Japanese team proposed a winding road up the mountain, not unlike the approach to the NCAR building in Colorado. Instead, Pei ordered a hole cut through a nearby mountain, connected to a major road via a bridge suspended from ninety-six steel cables and supported by a post set into the mountain. The museum itself was built into the mountain, with 80 percent of the building underground. When designing the exterior, Pei borrowed from the tradition of Japanese temples, particularly those found in nearby
Kyoto. He created a concise
spaceframe wrapped into French limestone and covered with a glass roof. Pei also oversaw specific decorative details, including a bench in the entrance lobby, carved from a 350-year-old
keyaki tree. Because of Koyama's considerable wealth, money was rarely considered an obstacle; estimates at the time of completion put the cost of the project at US$350 million. During the first decade of the 2000s, Pei designed a variety of buildings, including the
Suzhou Museum near his childhood home. He also designed the
Museum of Islamic Art in
Doha, Qatar, at the request of
the Al-Thani Family. Although it was originally planned for the
corniche road along
Doha Bay, Pei convinced the project coordinators to build a new island to provide the needed space. He then spent six months touring the region and surveying mosques in Spain, Syria, and Tunisia. He was especially impressed with the elegant simplicity of the
Mosque of Ibn Tulun in
Cairo. Once again, Pei sought to combine new design elements with the classical aesthetic most appropriate for the location of the building. The sand-colored rectangular boxes rotate evenly to create a subtle movement, with small arched windows at regular intervals into the limestone exterior. Inside, galleries are arranged around a massive atrium, lit from above. The museum's coordinators were pleased with the project; its official website describes its "true splendour unveiled in the sunlight," and speaks of "the shades of colour and the interplay of shadows paying tribute to the essence of Islamic architecture". in Macau, designed by
Pei Partnership Architects in association with I. M. Pei.|alt=The Macao Science Center, a conical steel structure. There is a body of water in front of the building. The
Macao Science Center in Macau was designed by
Pei Partnership Architects in association with I. M. Pei. The project to build the science center was conceived in 2001 and construction started in 2006. The center was completed in 2009 and opened by the Chinese President
Hu Jintao. The main part of the building is a distinctive conical shape with a spiral walkway and large atrium inside, similar to that of the
Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum in New York City. Galleries lead off the walkway, mainly consisting of interactive exhibits aimed at science education. The building is in a prominent position by the sea and is now a Macau landmark. Pei's career ended with his death in May 2019, at 102 years of age. == Style and method ==