But the two differ in critical ways, none more significant than Jahn's move from his flashy postmodern period to a self-assured modernism characterized by exquisitely transparent walls of glass. While the Sony Center is not a design triumph on the order of Frank Gehry's stunningly sculptural Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao, Spain, it is no less miraculous in the way it restores life to a once-moribund area. Achieving this sense of place is no small thing, considering that this is a Berlin building designed by a Chicago-based architect for a corporation that makes its home in Tokyo. The rebirth is apparent not only in the Sony Center, where the big, internalized public space brings a taste of dizzying American atriums to the Continent, but also in the neighboring Daimler-Benz district, where the architectRenzo Piano has laid out buildings and plazas in a more traditional European manner. Cafes are crowded.
Sidewalks teem with skateboarders, dog walkers and parents pushing baby strollers.
What had been the gloomy eastern edge of allied Berlin, back in the days when the wall loomed menacingly nearby, is increasingly the city's vital center. There are other reasons to pay heed to the Sony Center. It aspires to elevate the low art of entertainment design to the same pedestal occupied by buildings devoted to the visual arts and classical music. Most of all, it sends powerful messages about the changing face of Germany's capital. Following design guidelines established by Berlin planners, these buildings ring the perimeter of Sony's triangular plot.