Tiffany in the Wild: Pratt Institute

Inspired by a recent reading of Mario Amaya’s Tiffany Glass (Walker and Co., New York, 1967), I headed straight to the Main Library at Pratt Institute, just a short walk from my temporary stay in Brooklyn. I knew beforehand that the Tiffany interiors here did not include his famous stained-glass windows, yet the experience was no less extraordinary. What struck me most were the frosted glass floors—semi-translucent surfaces designed to let light pass while safeguarding privacy. In the late 19th century, when all women wore dresses and skirts, this ingenious solution allowed silhouettes to be revealed only as shadows, protecting modesty while illuminating the spaces below.

The library itself, designed in Renaissance Revival style by architect William B. Tubby, is a masterpiece of integrated design. Tiffany & Company’s interiors enhance the marble staircases and pillars, while the three-story brick structure conceals innovations that speak to an era of experimentation. The book stacks—glass floors, oak shelves, copper-plated supports—were designed by the Library Bureau, founded by Melville Dewey in 1876. Every element embodies the spirit of progress at the turn of the century, where architecture, craftsmanship, and new technologies intersected seamlessly.

Louis Comfort Tiffany at Pratt Institute

Louis Comfort Tiffany at Pratt Institute

For our project Tiffany in the Wild, Pratt represents more than an architectural curiosity—it highlights Tiffany’s wide-ranging genius beyond stained glass windows, reminding us that he was not only a colorist and craftsman but also a thinker of light and space. These interiors show how Tiffany worked in close dialogue with architects and engineers, much as he did in mausoleums, churches, and civic spaces. They also reflect the collaborative ethos we’ve seen again and again in his work: where design, architecture, and social needs meet to form lasting cultural memory.

I spent a couple of hours inside, photographing details and letting the atmosphere sink in. Pratt is one of those rare places where the past still whispers through glass and stone. For anyone curious about Tiffany’s beginnings, Amaya’s book remains a wonderful introduction to these early years.

What the photos here cannot capture is the living quality of Tiffany’s vision—the way glass and light still transform the experience of a library visit into something quietly transcendent.