ABSTRACT

If one just happens to be standing in the massive courtyard at the center of the McMaster Health Sciences Centre (McMaster) surrounded on all sides by concrete and glass, at two in the morning, they will experience the slightest shudder, the lights will dim, the ubiquitous hum of the mechanical system will diminish, and, for a few seconds, an anxious quiet will overcome the vast core of the Brutalist hospital. Then, like an engine turning over, the mechanical noise will return, the lights will come up and the moment of solitude is lost into the workings of the great machine à guérir. 1