Triforium

A Monument to Ambition

Fletcher Bowron Square sits at the corner of Temple and Main streets in Downtown LA’s Civic Center, ringed by government buildings and marked by one of the city’s strangest landmarks. Three massive concrete arches rise 60 feet into the air, their surfaces covered in nearly 1,500 multicolored glass prisms that catch sunlight throughout the day. This is the Triforium, a sculpture that represented the bleeding edge of art and technology in 1975 but never came close to fulfilling its creator’s vision.

Artist Joseph Young envisioned something revolutionary. The sculpture would detect footsteps and conversations from pedestrians below, convert these sounds into electrical signals, and trigger corresponding patterns on the glass prisms while simultaneously playing synchronized music through a 79-note glass bell carillon. He called it a “polyphonoptic” tower. Young also planned to install laser beams that would shoot skyward, spelling “Los Angeles” in Morse code for any passing extraterrestrials.

Reality proved less cooperative. The refrigerator-sized computer system couldn’t handle the synchronization. The bells produced fuzzy, unpleasant sounds. The reflecting pool at the base leaked into the underground mall beneath it. Critics savaged the piece with nicknames like “Three Wishbones in Search of a Turkey” and “Kitsch-22 of Kinetic Sculpture.” A federal judge across the street complained the noise interfered with court proceedings and petitioned to have it silenced. By the 1980s, the Triforium had gone dark and quiet.

What You See Today

The sculpture stands as a colorful but static monument. The three concrete pillars form sweeping wishbone shapes that converge at the center, supporting banks of hand-blown Venetian glass in reds, blues, greens, yellows, and purples. Seen from different angles, the prisms create shifting color patterns as natural light passes through them. The scale alone impresses, even without lights or music.

Fletcher Bowron Square itself offers benches and some shade, serving as a quiet spot for downtown workers on lunch breaks. The plaza shows its age and the Los Angeles Mall beneath it has become somewhat desolate, but the Triforium remains photogenic and intriguing for anyone interested in public art, failed civic projects, or 1970s futurism.

Brief Revivals

The sculpture received temporary restorations in 2006 and again in 2016-2018, when artists and activists won grant funding to activate the lights and sound using modern LED technology and laptop computers. During special concert events in October and November 2018, musicians performed while technicians synced the lights to the music, finally demonstrating something close to Young’s original intent. These activations proved short-lived. The Triforium has remained dormant since.

Context and Legacy

The sculpture occupies the former site of the Bella Union Hotel, a notorious 19th-century establishment that served as headquarters for Los Angeles when it was known as “Los Diablos.” That rowdy history contrasts sharply with the civic order represented by surrounding government buildings.

Walking around the sculpture takes just a few minutes. Interpretive plaques provide historical context. Nearby City Hall offers observation deck views, and Little Tokyo sits a few blocks east. The Triforium works best as a brief stop for architecture buffs, public art enthusiasts, or anyone curious about the gap between artistic vision and technical reality. It represents a particular moment in LA’s history when the city invested in experimental public art that pushed boundaries, even when the results disappointed.