The change in administrations in Washington, D.C., in January may signal a return to President-elect Donald Trump’s previous aesthetic crusade making civic architecture beautiful again.
Critics will reply as they did before: Who’s to say it’s not beautiful now?
The 2020 executive order required federal buildings to dump modern styles for classical designs. The government had mandated modern designs before, and this had severed American civic architecture from its cultural roots. As the order said: The Guiding Principles [of 1962] implicitly discouraged classical and other traditional [architecture] designs known for their beauty, declaring instead that the Government should use ‘contemporary’ designs.” And the order quoted 19th-century British architect Christopher Wren: “Public buildings [are] the ornament of a country. [Architecture] establishes a Nation, draws people and commerce, makes the people love their native country. ... Architecture aims at eternity.”
The defenders of modernism would note that Wren was speaking of England, not America. This is a nation founded on shaking off the shackles of the Old World, and we’re not building palaces for nobility. Classical had a nice run, the modernists decided. Architecture should reflect the possibilities and innovations of the 21st century.
Good points. But too many architects in the 1970s built dull dun-hued bunkers, and too many modern architects seem interested in self-amusement and cheeky transgressions, resulting in buildings that do not aim for eternity, unless you’re spending it in hell. The Twin Cities has some examples, but nothing as bad as the bunkers of the nation’s capital.

Most government buildings from the post-classical period aren’t bizarre — they’re just dull. Consider St. Paul’s Capitol complex. The magnificent golden-domed capitol, Cass Gilbert’s solid iteration of the standard legislative warehouse, is flanked by smaller structures of similar style. But down the street are two long dullards from the post-classical era — the MnDOT and Centennial Office buildings. They’re boring blocks with nothing to offer, just bricks, windows, flat roofs, and maybe a slab of marble to lend some undeserved gravitas.

There is one style that might satisfy both camps. Let’s call it “Post Office Moderne.” The humble post office is the most numerous example of federally supplied architecture, and served as an instrument of community identification and civic uplift throughout the 20th century. The post office was the embassy of the distant government, erected in thousands of towns and hamlets. There were no standardized plans. Each was designed individually, and care was taken to make them a symbol of the culture’s values.
“They are generally the most important of local buildings, seen daily by thousands, who have little opportunity to feel the influence of the great architectural works in the large cities,” reported The Architect in 1918. A sample of the glorious Grand Central Station, right on your Main Street.