Festival Hall and the Palace of Horticulture, of the courts, the
gardens, the Palace of Machinery and the Palace of Fine Arts. It finds
its own balancing structure in the Column of Progress. It is intended to
be the first thing seen from afar, the point from which the eye travels
to lesser things on either hand.

At night the Tower remains the center of the transformed Exposition.
Under the white light of the powerful projectors, details disappear, the
structure is softened into a form almost ghostly. It becomes ethereal.
All its daytime glitter gone, it seems really spiritual. The jewels hung
over the upper portion do not flash out a diamond brilliance, as they
might have been expected to do; rather they spread the light in a soft
film about the Tower. (p. 135.)

From close at hand, the arch and its flanking colonnades are truly
imperial. There the ornamentation and color of the upper part are not in
the eye. Up to the cornice above the arch, the mass of the Tower is
magnificent in proportion and harmonious in line and color. It almost
seems that the builders might have stopped there, or perhaps have
finished the massive block of the arch with a triumphant mass of
sculpture.

Studied from the ground underneath the Tower and around it, the arch and
the two little colonnaded courts in the wings are gloriously free and
spacious, with the spaciousness that the Exposition as a whole reflects,
that of the sea and sky of its setting. I walked here when the ocean
breeze, fresh from winter storms at sea, was sweeping through them.
There is no confinement, no sense of imprisonment from the boundless
depths of air outside. Something which the architect could not include
in his plans has come in to make constant this increase in the sense of