In Rome, one of the most popular day trips out of town is the short trek to Lido di Ostia, the small beach town south of Rome, easily accessible by regional rail, and only about a 30 minute ride from the Piramide Metro stop. The beach at Ostia is somewhat disappointing, and with a little extra effort you can reach Sperlonga, a gorgeous beach town on the Tyrrhenian Sea midway between Rome and Naples. Apparently, the town can be reached on a regional COTRAL bus, but when we went we took the train. The trip from Termini station to Fondi-Sperlonga was 6.20 euro each way, and took about an hour and fifteen minutes. From the Fondi-Sperlonga station there is a local bus (1 euro each way) that runs from the station to the beach. It was a bit confusing, as the bus times were not posted, but we asked workers at a local market and they were able to tell us where to catch the bus back to the station. The buses don’t run very often, and so we were worried we might be stranded for the night… but the bus came eventually and we made it back to Rome fairly easily. However, when I go back I’ll be sure to check the schedule carefully ahead of time. The beach at Sperlonga is really amazing. There are two main stretches of beach, divided in the middle by a large rocky projection capped by a small tower. From what I could tell, both sides were equally appealing, though there seemed to be more free public areas on the south side of the tower. There were numerous beach clubs and restaurants, but being on a budget we simply bought supplies for sandwiches at a local market, and had a picnic lunch in one of the parks overlooking the beach. One of Sperlonga’s main attractions is the Grotto of Tiberius, a natural cave at the southern end of the beach, and the ruins of the villa the Emperor Tiberius built there during his reign (from A.D. 14 to A.D. 37). The complex is unfortunately fenced off from the beach, and to access the ruins and the museum (containing artifacts found on site and large plaster casts of the statuary that used to stand in the grotto) if from a small road half a mile inland. While the grotto and museum were interesting, I would recommend skipping them both for more time at the beach, or to wander through the streets of the small hill town, something I didn’t get the chance to do. In the end, definitely a worthwhile trip, and a relatively cheap one if you’re willing to use the free areas of the beach, and assemble your own lunch. I’ll definitely be going back as soon as the weather’s warm enough for a swim. — Sperlonga [Map] To find a route from Sperlonga from Rome, search for Fondi-Sperlonga on the Trenitalia website.Sperlonga
Over the past few years, a handful of architects have managed to complete new projects in Rome, despite resistance from certain factions of the government and general population. While I wouldn’t call it a renaissance of contemporary architecture, these few new projects seem to be signaling a renewed interest in architectural experimentation, and a willingness on the part of the civic leaders and clients to give architects a free hand – as long as they respect whatever ruins they find on site, and are willing to go through the arduous process of building construction in this generally conservative, historicist climate. Renzo Piano, arguably the most well-known Italian architect of his generation, was surely aware of this political climate, and it seems that he designed his Auditorium in such a way that he could easily argue for its sensitivity to context, appropriateness of materials, and potential to revitalize an area of the city that had been in decline since the 1960 Olympic games. The basic configuration is based around three enclosed auditoriums of varying size, which are linked by an outdoor arena theater that pins the center of the composition, with lobby spaces, back-of-house areas, and other services located in a plinth beneath the auditorium volumes, wrapping the perimeter of the arena. The complex could be seen as growing out of this arena, a contemporary interpretation of a classical Roman theater: updated with the latest amenities. The additional auditoriums are designed to be read as discrete volumes, and while their shapes do not seem to represent their function, their distinct forms do act as a landmark for the auditorium complex. The material choice for the auditorium volumes seems to echo the cladding of many church domes across the city, and the red Roman brick is another clear tie to the architecture of the past. Though the complex was built on a site (formerly that of the 1960s Olympics) that was not historically-charged, there were ruins uncovered during excavation work. Piano takes a sensitive approach to these historical artifacts: he doesn’t touch them. Some ancient walls are brought into the building, covered, and treated as a part of a permanent exhibition that also includes shards of pottery and other artifacts found on site. Other, larger areas are left exposed, outside, where the form of the building has been cut away, turning these archaeological areas into open courtyards. While this seems like a perfectly fine way to deal with the ruins, it’s unfortunate that the design did not engage them on a higher conceptual level. I hope to write more on this topic later. See more of my photos on Flickr. — Auditorium Parco della Musica [2002]Auditorium Parco della Musica [Renzo Piano]
Architect: Renzo Piano
Viale Pietro De Coubertin, Rome, Italy [Map]
Built in preparation for the 1960 Olympic games, this concrete dome structure hosted boxing matches and other events. It looks run-down today, but apparently is still used on occasion. I was unable to get inside on the day I visited, but the structure was still impressive. Nervi was as much an engineer as an architect, and in addition to several other stadiums in Rome, he was the designer for highway overpasses and other pieces of infrastructure. Here’s a great interior view from Flickr user kompot.photo. The stadium is located to the north of the city, in an area that’s not considered very historically-sensitive, and so is (relatively) rich in modern and contemporary architecture: Zaha Hadid’s MAXXI museum and Renzo Piano’s Auditorium Parco della Musica are both within walking distance. —— Palazzetto dello Sport [1957-1958]Palazzetto dello Sport [P.L. Nervi]
Palazzetto dello Sport
Architect Pier Luigi Nervi, 1957-1958
Piazza Apollodoro 1
00196 Rome, Italy [Map]
Architect: Pier Luigi Nervi
Piazza Apollodoro 1, Rome, Italy [Map]
[La Rinascente, 1887] Albini’s work had always dealt with history and tradition (from exhibition designs inserted into existing spaces, or the adaptive reuse of existing structures), but here even with a tabula rasa he looked to the past, using varied historical references in concert to produce something contemporary. Perhaps taking the meaning of “la rinascente” – “the rebirth” – too literally, his design maintains the basic massing of the 1887 building (perhaps a functional requirement for the program, or perhaps predetermined by block size and required floor area), and incorporates the geometry of the cornice profiles, but transmutes the material into steel. Really nice. To me the most interesting thing about the project (and about 20th century architecture in Italy in general) is how it deals with history. In Albini’s case, he’s managed to mobilize historical precedents without resorting to historicism. We’ll see later that this is not an unique achievement: Albini’s synthesis of the classical and the modern has a precedent in the work of earlier Italian architects, whose approach to Modernism was perhaps more restrained than in other countries, due in part to the rich architectural heritage of the country, and in part to the pre-war government’s demand for architecture that recreated the glory of Imperial Rome. In the next few weeks I hope to travel to Genoa, where there are four museums by Albini, at which point I can pick this thread back up… meanwhile, there are a few more photos here. — La Rinascente [1957-1961]La Rinascente [Franco Albini]
As promised, in the next series of posts, I’ll be covering modern architecture around Rome (and throughout Italy), and analyzing the “old stuff” when it seems relevant. I feel no need to cover the typical guidebook topics (though I’ve been through every page of Rick Steves’ Rome ’09 and have the photos to prove it…), but there does seem to be a lack of info out there on the best modern & contemporary sights.
So, without further ado, thus starts my own hastily-thrown-together Guide to Rome, highlighting what I believe are the best off-the-beaten path architectural sights.
First up: La Rinascente, Architect Franco Albini, 1957-1961
La Rinascente is an upscale Italian department store chain. The company had had a presence in Rome since 1887, when their impressive building on Via del Corso [map] became the first department store in the city, but 1950s Rome was considerably larger than 1880s Rome, and the location of Albini’s building at the northern border of the imperial town suggests an interest in re-centering, conceding to this sprawl.
The expressed steel frame structure is complemented by red masonry infill panels whose material mirrors the immediate context. However, these are not simply flat infill panels, they are folded, and the subtle geometry suggests engaged columns: a renaissance facade redone with contemporary technology.
As a final note, it’s amazing how contemporary this still looks today. The connection between the department store and the adjacent apartments wouldn’t be out of place on Berlin’s Potsdamer Platz. But maybe that’s simply because Renzo Piano knows his history….
Architects: Franco Albini & Franca Helg
Piazza Fiume, Rome, Italy [Map]
Times: New, Roman
[Let's call it "The Flavian Amphitheatre"]
I’ve been living in Rome since July 22nd. Is it too late for first impressions? When I first arrived, I booked a week in a hostel near Termini Station, planning to use their free WiFi to find an apartment. It worked like a charm (thanks craigslist!) and I found a decent place almost immediately. I needed something relatively cheap, and I wanted something close to my workplace (near Campo di Fiori), and I was lucky to find something that met both requirements, off Piazza Trilussa in Trastevere, for 500 euro per month.
[This is the door to my apartment ]
Everyone tells me I’ve gotten a good deal, and I really can’t complain. Quarters are cramped compared to sprawling American apartments, but it’s only a little smaller than my old apartment in Basel, Switzerland, and I relish the challenge of living in a smaller space. I only packed one suitcase when I moved here (a function of the preceding OSU trip through Europe, I suppose, where I had to haul my luggage to a new hotel nearly every night), and I’m making a conscious effort to avoid accumulating more *stuff* while I’m here… though books may be inevitable.
A few days before embarking on the study abroad trip in June, I received work from my future employer that they wanted me to start on September 1st, rather than August 1st as we had previously discussed. I decided that rather than waste money on a flight back to the States, I would simply get to Rome early, and use the time to work on learning Italian, doing graphic design for a book project I’m working on, editing and uploading photos, and most importantly, just relaxing after the hectic pace of the OSU trip (and before the inevitably long work hours at a world-renowned architecture firm).
While I’m a bit disappointed in myself for not pushing harder on my Italian lessons, the month of August was productive in another way: it allowed me to get a real sense of the city, gave me time to contemplate what I’m even doing here, and finally, taught me why Italians all take the month off.
[Ponte Sisto]
Having traveled extensively through Europe, and having lived in Switzerland, I knew what to expect in the way of business operating hours, weird toilets, tipping conventions, public transport, etc, so there was really no “culture shock” to speak of, though it did take me a while to figure out where to find cheap socks (MAS, Piazza V. Emanuele). The most shocking thing about Rome in August is the heat. It’s the peak of tourist season, yet most Italians vacate the city. It’s an odd situation where almost the entire population of the town is replaced…. yet, despite the tourists on summer vacation, the town is quiet, the traffic is slower, few shops are open, and those people that remain tend to move slowly, and I found myself mirroring them, taking my time to explore the city, or (after a cafe or two) running quickly between shady patches of sidewalk.
The heat, in fact, was so intense that it largely determined my explorations. I would sleep late, often past noon, then venture out to the city center to sightsee in the mid-afternoon, returning at dusk to Trastevere to see the nightlife. I was lucky to have an enabler in this regard, my temporary roommate who’s since moved back to Bologna.
Since I had been to Rome several times before, I felt no need to see all the ruins and museums, so during August I mostly wandered, getting lost in the urban fabric, and finding my way back home. I think this is absolutely the best way to get a sense of the place, even if you never can remember exactly where you were….
Anyway, not much to report for August ’09 besides heat and relaxation. After starting work in September, my time somehow seemed more precious, and I started taking day trips out of town on the weekends. In the next few posts, I’ll chronicle a few of those, making a point to include directions and relevant information, so expect this to morph into a kind of travel guide for the next few updates…..
But if you simply can’t wait, check my continuously-updated Flickr sets, where I’ve organized Rome by era….
stay tuned for Sperlonga, Tivoli, Frascati day trips, followed by some commentary on Modern Architecture in Rome………..
London ’09: Lloyds & Leadenhall
On one of my rambling walks through London (following the lead of KSA Professor Doug Graf), I came, unexpectedly, upon Richard Rogers’ 1986 “masterpiece” — Lloyds of London. Like the Pompidou Center of 10 years earlier (by Rogers in collaboration with Renzo Piano), the building services are all expressed on the exterior. I say “expressed” because I doubt that all these tubes are functional, but the intent is unmistakable: here’s a building whose public face is its internal systems. While at the Pompidou center, the building services are pushed to the exterior to allow open-plan gallery spaces within, here at Lloyds it seems to simply be a bold celebration of technology, and possibly the best example to date of “high tech” architecture.
Unfortunately, the place is heavily guarded, and there’s no chance to get inside as an archi-tourist. A shame, because – as wikipedia states – the interior contains an 18th century dining room reconstructed piece-by-piece within this futuristic monstrosity, in a curious act of preservation.
The concrete structure is sometimes detailed as if it were built from a system of standardized metal parts, a design decision that leads me to believe that the concept behind this building is not one based in pure material honesty and technological expression. Rogers’ attitude seems almost postmodern, using the detailing of the concrete formwork to evoke a structural frame of metal tubes screwed into place.
Leadenhall Market just down the street (whose iron and glass roof structure was added in 1881) is an even greater celebration of technology than Rogers’ tower. The existing buildings were covered by the canopy, exterior space was turned inward, and the building facades were made interior walls, all through the technology of wrought iron.
London ’09: Lloyds & Leadenhall
On one of my rambling walks through London (following the lead of KSA Professor Doug Graf), I came, unexpectedly, upon Richard Rogers’ 1986 “masterpiece” — Lloyds of London. Like the Pompidou Center of 10 years earlier (by Rogers in collaboration with Renzo Piano), the building services are all expressed on the exterior. I say “expressed” because I doubt that all these tubes are functional, but the intent is unmistakable: here’s a building whose public face is its internal systems. While at the Pompidou center, the building services are pushed to the exterior to allow open-plan gallery spaces within, here at Lloyds it seems to simply be a bold celebration of technology, and possibly the best example to date of “high tech” architecture.
Unfortunately, the place is heavily guarded, and there’s no chance to get inside as an archi-tourist. A shame, because – as wikipedia states – the interior contains an 18th century dining room reconstructed piece-by-piece within this futuristic monstrosity, in a curious act of preservation.
The concrete structure is sometimes detailed as if it were built from a system of standardized metal parts, a design decision that leads me to believe that the concept behind this building is not one based in pure material honesty and technological expression. Rogers’ attitude seems almost postmodern, using the detailing of the concrete formwork to evoke a structural frame of metal tubes screwed into place.
Leadenhall Market just down the street (whose iron and glass roof structure was added in 1881) is an even greater celebration of technology than Rogers’ tower. The existing buildings were covered by the canopy, exterior space was turned inward, and the building facades were made interior walls, all through the technology of wrought iron.
Serpentine Pavilion 2009 [SANAA]
While In London, I got the chance to check out SANAA’s 2009 Serpentine Pavilion. While it certainly beat the Serpentine Gallery’s repulsive Jeff Koons exhibit, in the end I was unimpressed.
The mirrored surface of the roof structure was somewhat effective at erasing the canopy, and allowing it to blend with the surrounding park, and the field of columns could have been nice, but the effect was ruined completely by the half-height plastic panels surrounding the pavilion. While I buy that these wind-blockers may have kept a few napkins from flying off, this apparent afterthought distracted from what otherwise could have been a nice piece of public sculpture, especially when it lead to moments like this:
The fire exit in this free-standing plexiglass panel underscores the uselessness of the wall: why even bother?
Finally, guards were posted to keep children (and curious architecture students) from climbing up on the roof structure. I have to think this would have been more appealing if the architects had planned on that possibility and embraced it… even if it meant erecting plastic guard rails along the roof edge…
In the end, disappointing. Their Toledo Glass Museum is much more effective at achieving the ethereality and transparency this seems to be aiming for.
However, the project is redeemed completely if you imagine the pavilion as a venue for pole-dancing competitions….
Well worth the visit if you’re ever in London. More photos in my Laban set on Flickr. — Laban Dance Center [2002]Laban Dance Center [Herzog & de Meuron]
[Norman Foster's Millenium Bridge, and Herzog & de Meuron's Tate Modern]
After the KSA’s study abroad trip concluded in Munich, I flew to London to see some old friends (had it been 8 years? or only 6?) and tour around the town with a KSA professor and a few of my classmates. I had planned on traveling to Mumbai for the month of August (before starting work in Rome in September), but I ran into visa problems, and stayed in London for about a week, twice as long as I had planned.
In the end, it is probably a good thing I didn’t fly to India. After the rapid-fire architecture marathon that is the KSA’s study abroad program a relaxing week in London was just what I needed (even if I did spend several days running around looking at brutalist housing projects).
I had studied in Brighton in 2001, and had visited London a few times back then, but I’d never really been as an architecture student, and it was interesting to return. In 2001 I was amazed by the recently-opened Tate Modern (and struck by one piece in particular: Michael Craig-Martin’s An Oak Tree), but I never would have guessed that I’d return 8 years later, having worked for the architects.
[Herzog & de Meuron - Laban Dance Center]
Speaking of the architects, I was excited to finally visit their Laban Dance Center, as I feel it’s one of their best recent projects, along with the Schaulager in Basel. The exterior walls are all clad in translucent polycarbonate panels, and while the colors already look a little faded, this only adds to the ethereal quality of the facade, on the overcast day I visited, from certain vantage points the building seemed to vanish, blending with the clouds. The facade is treated as a graphic surface, and the detailing around the windows and doors suggests that they both belong to the same system. OSU Professor Jeff Kipnis theorizes that this is a way of bypassing the unsolved modernist challenge of entry: rather than erasing the necessarily-hierarchical point of entry, the architects simply pull it into the graphic language of the facade.
The gap where the building meets the ground furthers the reading of the facade as a graphic surface, but this combines with the vertically-striated polycarbonate panels to produce another reading: that of a curtain. This subtle reference is reinforced by the landscaping, where triangular mounds of earth are arranged in such a way to produce an outdoor arena theater, with the building’s front facade/curtain as backdrop.
Unfortunately, only the lobby and cafe are accessible to visitors, but even here it’s apparent that the architects are not simply concerned with facade treatments, but are expert manipulators of interior space. From the entryway, one can see the rake of an auditorium above, dropping below the lobby ceiling plane, and a pathway to the loading dock slices through the floor. The floor and ceiling are pinned together by a large sculptural spiral stair.
Architects: Herzog & de Meuron
Creekside, London, United Kingdom [Map]
So, that does it.KSA Vienna ’09: Final thoughts.
It’s now three months to the day since the trip officially ended, and I’ve managed to slog through all my photos to pick (and blog) the very best.
Full disclosure: some of the photos I’ve posted were taken back in 2007, when I took the same study abroad course as a student. I found that returning to these places only deepened my appreciation for them, especially when the weather cooperated!
While I regret skimping on the commentary, I think the photos speak for themselves: this was an amazing trip. I hope to revisit some of these cities and buildings later, with some reviews and theories on this blog, but you know how it goes.
In the next few months, I’ll be continuing to work on a ‘yearbook’ of sorts chronicling the Vienna ’09 trip through photos, sketches, and other misc information, as a record of this year’s journey, and as propaganda for the KSA and future study abroad programs. Stay tuned for that….
Meanwhile, with this out of the way, in the next few posts I’ll offer some comments on London, where I spend a week in July, and then (finally) some first, second, and third impressions of Rome, where I’ve lived for the past two months….
[ Herzog & de Meuron - Allianz Arena ] [ Herzog & de Meuron - Allianz Arena ] [ Herzog & de Meuron - Allianz Arena ] [ Herzog & de Meuron - Allianz Arena ] [ Herzog & de Meuron - Allianz Arena ] [ Frei Otto - Olympic Grounds ] [ Frei Otto - Olympic Grounds ] [ Frei Otto - Olympic Grounds ] [ Frei Otto - Olympic Grounds ] [ Coop Himmelb(l)au - Academy of Fine Arts ] [ Coop Himmelb(l)au - BMW Welt ] [ Coop Himmelb(l)au - BMW Welt ] [ Herzog & de Meuron - Fünf Höfe (Five Courtyards) ] [ Sauerbruch Hutton - Brandhorst Museum ] [ Sauerbruch Hutton - Brandhorst Museum ] [ Sauerbruch Hutton - Brandhorst Museum ]KSA Vienna ’09: Munich
In lieu of a follow-up post on the complexities of the architectural game in Basel, which I hope to write on in depth later, here’s an essay I wrote earlier this year for a seminar led by Rob Livsey at the Knowlton School of Architecture. I published this earlier, on my Archinect School Blog, but hey, I’m not wasting any trees here, so here it is again, inline with the Basel photos in case anyone’s actually reading this thing regularly. A great deal of this essay re-appeared in my ‘exit review’ last June, the final assignment of the KSA M.Arch program. (presentation slides on flickr) ———————– Herzog & de Meuron – Schaulager / Laurenz Foundation – 2003 – Basel, Switzerland “Wenn Kunst nicht gesehen wird, lebt Sie nicht. Wenn Kunst nicht gehütet wird, verfällt Sie.” “If art is not seen, it is dead. If art is not conserved, it decays.” In these two short statements from the website of the Laurenz Foundation and Emanuel Hoffman Collection, we find the architectural ambition of the Schaulager, the Herzog & de Meuron-designed art space on the outskirts of Basel, Switzerland. Tackling the two seemingly opposed programmatic requirements of storage and exhibition, the architects found opportunity to develop a scheme driven by duality. Inspired by its unique location in the Basel metropolitan agglomeration, and marked by both grand gestures and subtle details, they have created a space that deals equally with the infinite and the intimate. Through the subtle manipulation of forms and perspectival tricks, they have created a work of architecture that forces visitors to appreciate the multiple scales at which artworks and architecture can operate. I believe their ambition is to reveal these scales as a continuous gradient, creating a space where the duality between conservation and presentation becomes ambiguous, where contemporary art is no longer constrained to the narrow confines of the gallery, but can expand to envelop the city itself. The Schaulager is located on the edge of Munchenstein, a suburb of Basel, about 20 minutes away by public transportation. The building is set back from Emil Frey Strasse, a street that delineates an urban-scale division between a residential zone and an industrial area. The massing of the Schaulager reflects this directly. Two volumes are placed on site: a large, apparently orthogonal box sits to the west, finding its place among large industrial sheds and parking structures, while a small gatehouse finds affinity with the gable-roofed residences to the east. The placement of these volumes seems appropriate, and should indicate at once that the architects recognize the different urban scales that come into conflict at the site. This massing strategy should be evident to even the casual visitor, but the apparent dichotomy is called into question as you prepare to enter the building. Approaching the building by car, you park in a lot set back from the Schaulager by a large field of grass. A fence surrounds this field, denying a direct approach: you must walk around the perimeter. The distant view from beyond the fenced-off lawn makes the building look small, as if a folly in the landscape. From here the facade is flat and blank, a uniform field of color, but as you approach, the building seems to grow, (or are you shrinking?) and the texture of the facade is slowly revealed. The brown earth tones of the facade seems to suggest that the building has emerged from the ground through some tectonic process. The asphalt sidewalk is dotted with small rocks, apparently the same stones used in the exposed aggregate of this concrete facade. As you turn the corner, the sidewalk path brings you closer to the building, which now looms high above you. From this corner, you turn towards the gatehouse, a small structure guarding the entry and providing termination to the perimeter fence. Clad in the same material as the main building, the gatehouse can be read as a piece removed from the the larger volume, and shrunken. The gatehouse walls are not parallel with those of the entry facade, and this angle throws the plaza out of equilibrium, as if the entire complex was succumbing to a compressive force. The inward tilt of the gatehouse walls establishes a false perspective, and the small structure seems to fluctuate wildly in scale, depending on your viewpoint, a technique the architects have used in the past, as in the housing block at their St. Jakob Park stadium. As you pass through the gatehouse into the entry plaza, the massive white walls of the facade block your peripheral vision. Punctuated only by two large LED screens, the composition evokes artwork hung on a drywall gallery partition, blown up to the scale of the city. To retain the continuity of this gallery wall, the band of windows below has been tinted a dark gray, and the details are kept to a minimum. The contrast between this black band and the stark white above clearly establishes the entry plaza as an interior gallery space, reinforced by the conspicuous absence of embedded pebbles in the asphalt underfoot. The plaza is tilted downward, and this band of windows could be mistaken for a shadow or gap below below the gallery wall. To enter, you scurry through the gap. Initial studies showed the Schaulager as an overscale gallery wall, with every piece of the collection arrayed on its expansive surface. While the entry facade is a vestige of those early models, the technical requirements of art storage and conservation could not be met by such an audacious scheme. We can recall how Herzog & de Meuron mobilized “stacking” as an aesthetic indicator of storage in the facade of their Ricola Building in Laufen, and they’ve done the same at the Schaulager as a larger scale. As you enter, and look up into the full-height atrium, the identical stacked floor plates resemble nothing so much as the shelves of a tall bookcase. The visiting public is never treated to a direct visual connection with any of the upper floors, so this stack remains an image, a representation of the art stored beyond. From here, the typical visitor can only see the ceilings of the levels above, and the lighting, consistent with the gallery levels, draws equivalence between storage and exhibition. The upper levels, and the ground floor galleries consist of orthogonal arrangements drywall partitions, but the lower level is more ambitious. Adjacent to the grand stair to the lower level, a short gallery space compresses down to nearly nothing, taking the ceiling along with it. Two permanent installations punctuate the architecture’s playful manipulation of scale. A work by Robert Gober takes up one large room. Drawn on the architectural plans, Gober’s complicated piece consists of four sewer grates. Three are roughly one-to-one, but the central one is grossly overscale, and pinned down by a statue of the Virgin Mary pierced through the gut by a corrugated plastic pipe. The two flanking grates are contained in suitcases, as if the expansive infrastructure of sewage flow could be packed up for travel. A piece by Katharina Fritsch is perhaps simpler, but no less impressive. Fritsch’s installation consists of a circle of large rats, tremendously overscale, reinforcing and concluding the series of scalar shifts that have affected the visitor. Returning to the ground floor, in the cafe we find a ceiling treatment that is reminiscent of both the concrete facade texture, as if it has been scaled up and thickened. The downlights in the cafe ceiling could be enlarged pebbles from the concrete facade. The scale and texture of the cafe ceiling extends to the apertures of the exterior windows, whose jagged edges suggest a distant landscape of rolling hills and unite the oversize scale of the cafe ceiling with the material of the concrete facade. This texture is present yet again, at a different scale, in the metal mesh of the doors at the gatehouse and loading dock. The jagged strip windows wrap around the corners of the building, enhancing the impression that the mass of the building is homogeneous, and what few openings exist are have been chipped away. The window cuts are the only place where the thickness of the concrete facade is revealed, and revealed to be massive. The heavy visual impact of the exposed-aggregate concrete represents permanence, and the thermal barrier of the concrete creates the stable environmental conditions ideal for the preservation and conservation of art. The permanence of the facility is reinforced by its surrounding fence. The bases are large, wide and apparently weighted, as if mobile, removable at any moment, but several bolted connections and poles embedded in concrete reveal the truth. Though necessary for security, the fence is detailed in a way that makes it read as temporary, which makes the Schaulager itself seem more permanent by contrast. This must reassure Robert Gober, whose stairs and plumbing are drawn on the plans, as if the architecture is necessary for the art to survive. In contrast, the white walls of the entry facade are revealed to be thin, ethereal, and temporary. Apparently hung from above, the white entry facade hovers over the atrium space with no support from below. The constantly changing images on the LED screens reinforce the temporality of this facade. As a gallery wall, it may be reconfigured, repainted, destroyed, and recreated, constantly changing to meet the needs of ever-evolving contemporary art. It seems appropriate that the material choices for the Schaulager should represent the two seemingly opposed programmatic requirements of exhibition and storage. Finally, the Schaulager must be read as an urban anchor. Located far from the historic city center, the Schaulager is on the border between a declining industrial zone slated for redevelopment and a residential community. The Schaulager is located in an area known as Dreispitz, and Herzog & de Meuron have done a preliminary masterplan that may reveal some intentions behind the Schaulager. Intended to develop as a suburban cultural zone, Dreispitz is to be redeveloped with galleries, shops, and residential complexes, and current plans show the Schaulager mirrored along its rear facade to engage this future development. Though currently located on a kind of frontier, the architects envision the Schaulager as a new center for this cultural enclave on the outskirts of Basel, doubling itself to reinvigorate the fading industrial landscape. — (plans & sections, some photos from el croquis #129/130, others from flickr)Schaulager [Herzog & de Meuron]
———
KSA Vienna ’09: Basel
[HdM - Signal Box]
[Basel Rathaus]
[HdM - Elsassertor II]
[HdM - Schuttenmattstrasse Apartments]
[HdM - Pfaffenholz Sports Center]
—-
I spent over a year in Basel, and this is just a small selection of my photos. Find more on my flicker set “Basel” and my Herzog & de Meuron Collection.
(re)visions
So, while I still plan on finishing the KSA Vienna series…. I was working on this tonight, and thought it would make an interesting post. I’m in the process (ahem…. starting the process…) of revising my portfolio and resume, and gradually starting to look for that next job after my current internship is concluded. I’m not entirely sure when this will be happening, since my engagement in Rome is somewhat open-ended. Nonetheless, tonight I decided to finally go back to one of my old projects and revise a few images I’ve never been happy with.
Above, you see tonight’s work. Below, the same(-ish) view, that’s been going out with every copy of my portfolio for the past two years.
I’m actually surprised that I let this slide for so long. This dismal image, on a February backdrop, was the opening page to this project… In final reviews that quarter, Mack Scogin said this looked like “Soviet public housing” — and yet, I never reworked the image.
Well, now I have, and I believe for the better.
links:Borgesian Cartography
Umberto Eco on the material specificities of Borges’ ’1:1 map’ described in his short “On Exactitude in Science” —- http://aaaaarg.org/files/textz/3791-on_the_impossibility_of.pdf
Geoff Manaugh and the New York Times on a new iPhone app that shows visionary projects for new york, at their proposed locations, the content changing as you move around the city, updated by GPS….
Augmented Reality – http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Augmented_reality
Borges’ ridiculous map will someday (soon?) be realized in a way that Eco couldn’t anticipate… through invisible layers of metadata……..