Red is the color of passion

Crossing Broadway is a big step, and one that most Columbia students undertake with trepidation. Lerner aficionado Finn Klauber looked both ways before he crossed the street, but nothing prepared him for what lay inside the Big Red.

Barnard’s campus is an alien world to many Columbia students. Okay, maybe that’s a little over exaggerated, but as I hiked over Broadway to find the Diana—all I knew was to look for the reddish buillding—I couldn’t help feeling a little nervous. I’d spent such little time at Barnard that I had no idea what to expect. Could you blame me for being a little anxious while clanging through the metal “tunnel” which runs parallel to Broadway?

Luckily, the tunnel led directly to doors of the Diana. I had heard tales of this El Dorado-esque student center. Pizzas with golden-brown crusts? Starbucks? A school store? All of it seemed too good to be true. Then again, there had to be a reason I’ve heard so much. Even if I was to be disappointed, some kernel of truth had to lie at the center of this maroon building.

Entering the Diana, I was shocked to see just how nice it was. Lerner may have “interesting” architecture and a glass wall to look over the Furnald Quad (not that anything of note ever happens in Furnald), but the Diana was something else. Floor to ceiling windows provided a scenic view over Broadway, while a gentle hum of conversation floated into the lobby from around the corner. I knew I wanted to end my self-tour at the Diana Café with a box of that pizza I’ve heard so much about, so I went towards the elevator hoping to work my way down from the top floor.

I wasn’t expecting anything out of the ordinary entering the elevator, but the sheer amount of red—to match the color scheme of the building, I guess—was almost blinding. It was interesting, to say the least, and I noted it as one of those quirks that a majority of Columbia students would otherwise never know about.

There isn’t really much to say about the top floors of the Diana. I realized there were some departments housed in the building, and most of the rooms were workshops or classrooms related to one art department or another. I was impressed, however, with the amount of prime study space. The building’s temperature was nicely regulated throughout, in contrast to hot nights spent in stuffy Butler rooms when I’ve been kicked off the sixth floor. I jotted down a mental note that the lounging areas up on the fifth and sixth floors would be nice to use for studying if I was ever in the area, before proceeding towards the stairs. I have to say, however, I was extremely disappointed that there was no way to get past the locked doors to access the terraces on the sixth floor. It was a nice day, and I would have appreciated the Diana tenfold if it were possible to hang out on the Diana terrace with a fantastic view.

Regardless, I continued my journey downwards. Not much caught my eye as I continued towards the Diana Café. It was, for the most part, just a student center. Even though downstairs was packed, these upper floors remained woefully empty. What a shame. It was a Tuesday afternoon and each empty floor was prime student space taken over by empty classrooms and workshops. Lerner may be filled with the results of bureaucratic malaise, but at least it was filled. This was just sad.

The Diana Café made up for some of my disappointment. I was directed towards the pizza—the white one, I was told, is the best—selected a drink, paid, and sat down in one of the red chairs. The pizza cost almost seven dollars and was almost the size of a single jumbo slice from Koronet, so I had high expectations. And as far as pizza goes, it was pretty good. I’m not sure I could spend seven dollars a day—or whatever the equivalent is in dining dollars—on pizza, but it was in no way a waste of money.

I made my way out through the tunnel, reflecting on my first trip to the Diana. I first asked myself if I was satisfied, but then dismissed that question when I realized I had built up the mystery of the Diana in my head. To Barnard students, the Diana is just another facet of campus life. Sure, they had good pizza and some nice study spaces, but looking for a sense of satisfaction in the Diana was like looking for satisfaction in Lerner—they’re just student centers. Sure, I would choose JJ’s over the Diana Café any day, but that would just reduce the Diana into the food it served—clearly the Diana was much more. I looked back up at the red building and made a note to come back if I couldn’t find any spaces in Butler. I’d take the Diana’s red colors over Lerner’s bleakness any day.

Red-hot via Diana Center Graduate Forum