I occasionally visit the public atrium at 115 East 57th Street, here in Midtown Manhattan. It’s a basically vacant space that sits beneath the property’s 55-story tower—the first 16 of which comprise commercial spaces. Reading up on the 1975 skyscraper’s history, I sense some of the reasons why there’s so much emptiness there, and perhaps why at least one of the tower’s commercial spaces smells a bit musty. However, in the atrium, I think there’s so much potential. Restaurants and other businesses over the years have seen potential, too, but now none remain.

Architecturally, it’s heavy-duty and fantastic. It’s tempting to call it Brutalist due to the emphatic display of concrete, but it’s not that eccentric. Rather it’s a modernist response to the site’s physical demands, and the incredible weight of the upper floors. It has that certain 1970s elevation of lower-grade building materials, and feels a bit like a university science building, or maybe a bunker. But I salute this building’s attempt at something. I like the weight of the high-strength concrete bearing down on me as I enter and then even descend the five or six steps to the below-grade atrium floor. The windows facing into the atrium from some of the commercial spaces are all empty. Foorfalls echo up the 27-meter-high public area.