I’ve discovered a gem amongst CU’s collection of libraries. Quietly hidden in a corner of the Math Department building, the L.H. Gemmill Engineering Library awaits those looking for the perfect study experience.
Don’t let the signs at the entrance intimidate you. Neon-yellow and laminated, the notices seem to shout at potential studiers: “Do not bring food or drink into the library.” There are two of them, side by side; guarding. If you can get past this less-than-warm welcome, you’ll find yourself in a homework haven.
Once inside, glinting chrome mobiles immediately convey an engineering mood. Consisting of many small, square sheets of metal hanging in rows, their design is both abstract and geometrical at the same time. In fact, the humble square seems to be the star of the library. A series of framed cutouts line the stairwell. The cutouts are small red, green or blue squares inside of larger ones. While stark and simple, they give the place color. Even the chairs have squares cut into them.
The best studying can be done downstairs. Labeled the “quiet” area by carefully folded signs on the tables, it seems as though this place would be eerily silent. Instead, an undercurrent of noise keeps this quarter comfortable. You can hear the scuff of footsteps descending the concrete stairs, and the unfortunate groaning and creaking of the squat wooden chairs some students gingerly sit on. I choose a place at one of the newer tables, with high-backed chairs that do not squeak. Nevertheless, I continue to hear noises. I notice that students are calmly ignoring the stern “no food” signs; they study with snacks from the vending machine outside. They conceal the crumple of wrappers behind the rustling of their textbook pages. A Dole cranberry juice container sits innocently empty on one table, and next to me there are stains on the grey carpet and crumbs sprinkled here and there. It seems that the bark of the signs is louder than their bite.
I settle down to work, but I suddenly hear a hair-raising screech and whir. Looking around, I notice that one of the book stacks just moved. I investigate and read on the stacks, “space-saver high density mobile storage systems.” Below these words, glowing green and red plastic buttons wait to be pushed, so that the stacks can either move aside or squeeze together. How fitting that an engineering library would economize space. My fingers tingle and I resist the urge to move down the aisles, punching the green “go” buttons and making all the stacks dance. I return to my work.
The back wall emphasizes that this is a place to learn. A bold, black timeline spans the length of the wall and presents important dates in CU’s engineering history. Wooden cases with glass fronts hold antiques and replicas, while plaques describe the items inside: “The abacus is one of the earliest computing instruments.”
Natural lighting floods the place from tilted skylights, making everything seem open and awake. Unlike most other libraries I’ve visited, all of the students are actually studying, rather than curled up for a short nap. They all seem older; this must be a place of maturity. Despite sitting on the hard chair for nearly an hour, I feel comfortable and focused. Without the distracting smell of freshly ground coffee, I can concentrate on my textbook, breathing in its clean bookish scent. Before I know it, the black-and-white clock on the wall suggests that it’s time for class. I’ll be back again when the time comes for some serious studying.
