As you make your way through the snow and slush that have recently taken over our campus, consider taking shelter inside one of Columbia’s most… interesting buildings: The Seeley W. Mudd Building, home of Columbia engineering. It was built in 1966, as a celebration of Satan’s 1300th anniversary.
Go ahead, make your way there—you’ll find that it is wide open and ready to welcome you.
Go ahead, keep walking.
No, that’s not it, that’s Fairchild. Nobody really knows what Fairchild is for, except to hide Mudd.
This is the large, welcoming door that leads you into the wonderful world of Mudd.
You might as well wave hi to Le Martelleur (we heard that means “the Martian” in French). Although in this weather he might need some Head & Shoulders.
Anyhow, walk right in and admire the beautiful artwork welcoming you.
This is what awaits you inside. It is Mudd’s foyer, and manages to lack every single thing I’d like to see when I enter a building, except the surprisingly decent vending machines.
If you take one of the elevators, you will discover that they hired a different architect to design each of Mudd’s floors, none of which designed anything pleasant.
I feel like they misinterpreted what was meant by “minimalistic.”
This one may be the best; the decorator was able to include some mechanical engineering inspiration, courtesy of Archimedes.
“We read books by dead Greek guys too!!!”
Walk into a hallway and you’ll find a large variety of prison/hospital vibes.
In such distinct flavors as psych ward…
The choice of door color is what really makes this one for me.
Or maybe it’s the benches. I cannot picture people sitting on it and doing anything but waiting for bail.
And this is a very representative shot of a random wall.
At least it seems like they tried with the stairs, which are where much time is spent in the 12-floor building.
Engineers work so hard that you’ll have difficulty finding an open classroom, especially since many of them lack windows.
On your way out, why not check out this door to the CS department? It very warmly greets you with an implied “Get the fuck out” unless you’re actually a declared CompSci major.
In the end, Mudd serves a very important purpose—because once you’re out, you might not hate the snow that much.
Your photographical guide via Artur Renault