Archive for the 'Arquitectura [.pt]' Category

nowhere, 101

Duas torres, duas pontes.

Ou, quando o devaneio atinge o ponto de rebuçado.

A arquitectura contemporânea deixou, há muito de ser lugar para exploração de conceito e conquista artística. Deu lugar ao impulso primário de marcar posição pela magnificência do render e a capacidade de resposta financeira do atelier àquilo que o computador lança em dados.

A proposta do gabinete de Steven Holl é a súmula de como o slogan de campanha de Barak Obama se pode transformar em bicho perigoso, sobretudo se em descuidada mão alheia.

- Yes, we can.

E podemos, hoje, propor ao mesmo tempo e para o mesmo lugar, duas torres e duas pontes, sem que precisemos verdadeiramente de nenhuma.

- Yes, we can.

E podemos porque a nova geração e as gerações que se sigam conseguiram automatizar processos de tal forma que um extensivo tratamento de fachada se pode tornar demasiado cansativo e uma implantação bem estruturada se pode tornar demasiado estática.

- Yes, we can.

E podemos, acima de tudo, porque do outro lado do mundo, alguém que contra nós concorre, pode também. A pior das conclusões.

Podemo-nos atrever porque o desafio nos permite, porque as ferramentas o permitem, e porque as circunstâncias o imperam. E podemos porque (aparentemente) hoje em dia um belo report e uma equipa de estrategas do render e poetas das memórias descritivas fazem o trabalho que era antes propriedade do arquitecto.

E podemos, a partir de agora, relativizar o lugar da cidade.

- Can we?

Para detalhe sobre a proposta, recomenda-se um salto ao Inhabitat.

Siza, Royal Gold Medal

Via The Guardian.co.uk:

” Álvaro Siza, the Portuguese architect and hero of a new wave of British design talent, was yesterday awarded the Royal Gold Medal, British architecture’s most prestigious prize. The 78-year-old is regarded by some as the greatest architect Portugal has ever produced, although his only British building to date has been a temporary pavilion for the Serpentine Gallery in London in 2006.

His influence on British architects through buildings in Portugal such as the Adega Mayor winery, above, and the Evora housing development, built after the end of the Portuguese dictatorship in 1977, has been far greater.

His style blends modernism’s free organisation of spaces with vernacular architecture, so he might use whitewashed stone in Portugal or brick in the Netherlands. That approach has been embraced by a generation of architects including Caruso St John and Tony Fretton, who have rejected the hi-tech movement pioneered by Lord Rogers and Lord Foster and their tendency to use similar components wherever they build in the world.

Siza (below) qualified in 1955 and his architecture matured under the dictatorship in Portugal, which allowed him little exposure to the international modernist style that was emerging across Europe – led in particular by the Swiss architect, Le Corbusier – which was to form the basis of the hi-tech movement.

Siza follows Frank Gehry, Herzog & de Meuron and Frei Otto as recent foreign winners of the prize, which is personally approved by the Queen.

“Álvaro Siza is a profoundly complete architect who defies categorisation,” said Sunand Prasad, the president of the Royal Institute of British Architects, which announced the award yesterday. “The forging of a masterful and seemingly inevitable architecture out of the possibilities of a site is one of the supreme characteristics of his work … This is an architecture in which an economy of expressive means is combined with an abundance of spatial revelation.”

Siza continues to design and teach from his base in Porto. “

Oma @ Roterdão

Situado no centro da cidade de Roterdão, distrito de Coolsingel, o cubo, com 120.000m2 destina-se a uso misto – em números, 30.000m2 para comércioe os restantes para escritórios, habitação, cultura e lazer.

Quando publiquei o junk-park de Tirana do atelier MVRDV baseei a critica nas imagens com que foi ilustrada a divulgação do projecto. A ditadura do render torna-se, nesta fase da anunciação, o único factor de julgamento a que a obra se pode submeter, a par de todas as ferramentas acessórias de ilustração com que o edifício se anuncia. No caso albanês, o conjunto é francamente mau, das imagens cruas à maqueta em bruto, nada ali permite diferente opinião.

Koolhaas será eventualmente o melhor gestor de imagem que o panorama arquitectónico conheceu. Após anos agarrado à projecção semi clássica das obras que o OMA produziu (das ilustrações pop às maquetas académicas) herança, nas suas próprias palavras, que o periodo de pesquisa para Delirious New York lhe ofereceu, surge agora a nova face OMA, onde a categoria da visualização nos deixa desarmados.

A obra em si também se anuncia com generosidade e categoria. Apesar de se tratar de mais um Icon-Building, a verdade é que a integração no skyline se propõe que aconteça de forma generosa e cuidada e com o propósito de servir duas permissas fundamentais que, regra geral, dificilmente saem satisfeitas quando a genialidade do autor se pretende fazer sentir com critérios de espectacularidade – Implantação e Integração, sem menosprezo do espaço.

Na cobertura o promontório sobre a cidade e a envolvente imediata, sem recorrer a explosões de escala.

Aguardamos então a inauguração, prevista para 2013.

mvrdv on drugs

É um dos hits do momento na blogosfera afecta à arquitectura, a proposta do trio holandês composto por Winy Maas, Jacob van Rijs e Nathalie de Vries para Tirana, na Albânia.

A coisa, que consiste num empoleirar de prismas rectangulares uns em cima dos outros, recolheu, de um modo geral, reacções muito positivas que resultam quase sempre em aclamação pelo arrojo ou lamentos pela ainda aparente timidez em levar o devaneio um pouco mais além.

E é um pouco nisto que a arquitectura mundial tende a transformar-se desde que o reconhecimento da iconografia da forma nos trouxe peças como a Casa da Música no Porto e a Biblioteca de Seattle, ambos pela marca oma.inc e que apesar de nos ter permitido finalmente cortar o cordão umbilical que ainda nos prendia ao pouco adequado pensamento modernaço, acabou por dar à luz esta disposição internacional ao despropósito – toma lá António.

Pessoalmente, cada vez mais tenho dificuldade em aceitar estes raciocínios formais, que não nos trazem nada de novo. Pelo contrário, após aquilo que as gerações do meio século passado nos permitiram evoluir, parece que actualmente se perdeu a genialidade. Deu lugar à Eu-genialidade.

O trabalho dos MVRDV, que exerceu tremenda influência no meu tempo de faculdade, conta no currículo com peças arrojadas e abordagens extraordinariamente interessantes que constituem verdadeiros passos em frente naquilo que é a linha de evolução da arquitectura nos dias de hoje (e obras como o complexo WOZOCO ou a Villa VPRO são testemunho disso mesmo), mas entretanto decidiu seguir o trilho de outros estúdios, que, encontrando a caixa de pandora aberta, aproveitou a oportunidade para a escancarar ainda mais.

O free-park de Tirana é, acima de tudo, um projecto de autor, onde a assinatura do estúdio se encontra espalhada por todo o lado. Das fachadas saturadas à demente proposta de implantação, ali se encontra um pouco de tudo para que nunca se venha a encontrar nada. E no final é isso que resta: Um gigantesco nada numa total ausência de estratégia. Uma gritaria desenfreada para dizer o próprio nome e ganhar atenção. Percebo a postura mas discordo do método.

Todos os dias vejo gente a gritar o seu próprio nome. A maioria consegue a acção dos interlocutores.

Raramente pelos melhores motivos.


Sobre o meio e o fim

Ewha Womans University, Dominique Perrault

Recebi recentemente a notificação para linkagem nova ao Aspirina, relativamente a um post em que abordo o projecto de Pedro Tiago Lacerda Pimentel e Camilo Bastos Rebelo para o novo Museo do Côa.

Ao reler o artigo (coisa que, reconheço, muito raramente faço) lembrei-me da visita recente ao Daily Dose of Architecture onde recolhi mais algumas imagens do Campus Center for Ewha Womans University em Seoul na Coreia do Sul de Dominique Perrault.

Quase um ano e meio depois da primeira vez que escrevi sobre a falta de entusiasmo da arquitectura portuguesa pelos seus próprios edifícios, preferindo abordar o lugar como entidade sacro-santa, génese de toda a genialidade (ou pior, não fazer nada disto e agir como se o tivesse feito), o edifício do estúdio de Perrault vem confirmar a mais triste das observações: Haja ou não sinceridade na utilização do lugar como ferramenta única no processo de projecto, ainda há um longo caminho a percorrer até que se compreenda todo o potencial de exploração desse dito conceito mágico.

Apesar de uma muito positiva evolução natural de um quadrante jovem do nosso panorama arquitectónico (arrisco a dizer, todos os que feliz ou infelizmente continuam a viver para lá dos destaques infernais da capa da revista) que tem vindo progressivamente a operar “out of the box”, falta-nos apenas esta capacidade em dissecar o próprio conceito, retirando-lhe todas as noções básicas que acabam por anular todo o potencial de exploração de que a coisa está impregnada. Falta acima de tudo radicalidade, uma viagem à raiz das coisas.

Continua a haver a limitação em supor a recusa da aceitação.

Pessoalmente, acredito que até os mais opressivo censores agradeceriam a audácia.

A visita ao post do John é obrigatória.

“Only an Idiot Would have said No”

Numa fase em que se mantém a conversa (por vezes fiada) acerca d’El Raton, e, sinceramente, entre os puritanismos de quem insiste em defender o edifício por não-comparação com o Franjinhas, os que o atacam por comparação com o outro (e entre ambas as posturas, venha o diabo e escolha), quem invoca a teoria do mau render como desculpa para a má reputação da proposta e os que simplesmente se resguardam por trás daquele que é o costume mais abominável da divulgação/promoção da arquitectura portuguesa (não confundir com “da arquitectura em Portugal”), que são os hipnotismos de semântica, com exercícios de ilusionismo verbal a transbordar de smokes and mirrors (o que não deixa de ser caminho eficiente porque os portugueses sempre dançaram melhor do que a musica que tocam) e que no final nos deixam sempre com o peso na consciência de quem ousou desafiar o mestre – E agora dança – chega via EdgarGonzalez a entrevista de Jaques Herzog ao Der Spiegel, onde com a maior das sinceridades e dos pragmatismos salta borda fora da hipocrisia mundial em torno da questão Tibetana e assume sem rodeios que a possibilidade de construção do Estádio Olímpico de Pequim era peça demasiado fundamental no percurso do gabinete que gere em conjunto com Pierre deMeuron.

Fica o (longo) registo de quem opta pelo caminho da objectividade e não se exclui das opções que toma.

Absolutamente impossível de verificar num qualquer canto ibérico:

Star architect Jacques Herzog, the man behind the new Olympic Stadium in Beijing, tells SPIEGEL his arena is a subversive place where people can meet in locations not easily monitored by officials. He also defends his decision to build for a regime criticized for human rights violations.

SPIEGEL: Mr. Herzog, in the coming weeks billions of people watching the Olympics will be looking at your architecture. You can claim to have built the world’s most famous arena. Where will you be sitting during the opening ceremony in Beijing?

Herzog: I have no idea. Until a few months ago, we didn’t even know whether we would be invited to the festivities at all.

SPIEGEL: You can’t be serious! Your structure is one of the government’s favorite projects. The stadium is already being depicted on currency.

Herzog: It just happens to be the case that in China, you can never be quite sure how anything will turn out. Over the years, we were often completely perplexed, because we couldn’t gauge how our design was being received. What was missing was a clear response. But everything fell nicely into place in the end.

SPIEGEL: Your sports arena has been received with great enthusiasm, and with precisely the broad recognition that your clients were seeking. But what happens if a political scandal overshadows the Olympic Games? Couldn’t that ruin your reputation just as easily?

Herzog: That’s far too speculative. The question you are really asking is why we even accepted a commission in a country, a dictatorship, that doesn’t accept human rights. Should we be permitted to do this or not?

SPIEGEL: And, are you permitted?

Herzog: Yes. We are now convinced that building there was the right decision. We too cannot accept the disregard for human rights in any form whatsoever. However, we do believe that some things have opened up in this country. We see progress. And we should continue from that point. We do not wish to overemphasize our role, but the stadium is perhaps a component of this path, or at least a small stone.

SPIEGEL: But it’s also an important mosaic piece in the way the Chinese portray themselves.

Herzog: Who else but architects should be familiar with the effects of buildings? But there is also such a thing as an inwardly directed effect. The stadium is a good example of this. In fact, it achieves the maximum of what architecture can achieve.

SPIEGEL: Because it is so popular among the people?

Herzog: We normally don’t think in terms of symbols, but the stadium has become one. This building is literally adored. The Chinese themselves describe it as one of their most important cultural monuments, on par with the Great Wall of China. They identify with it and call it the bird’s nest. In essence, who built it is no longer relevant.

SPIEGEL: Well, that can’t exactly be in your best interest.

Herzog: Yes, it can, because it attests to a high degree of acceptance. For us, this stadium is more than just a building. It’s a part of a city. Vision is always such a big word, but our vision was to create a public space, a space for the public, where social life is possible, where something can happen, something that can, quite deliberately, be subversive or — at least — not easy to control or keep track of.

SPIEGEL: Your architecture as an act of resistance? Aren’t you exaggerating?

Herzog: No. We see the stadium as a type of Trojan horse. We fulfilled the spatial program we were given, but interpreted it in such a way that it can be used in different ways along it perimeters. As a result, we made everyday meeting places possible in locations that are not easily monitored, places with all kinds of niches and smaller segments. In other words, no public parade grounds.

SPIEGEL: They exist in front of the arena.

Herzog: But the stadium itself is more like a mountain with all kinds of different routes and paths where people can run into each other in unexpected ways. Although we have done similar things with museums in London and Barcelona, in a country like China these kinds of urban spaces acquire a different, almost political meaning. We think that many people in Beijing will understand it this way and use it for their pleasure, because the Chinese generally value public space — more, at any rate, than we have observed elsewhere.

SPIEGEL: You engaged the Chinese artist Ai Weiwei, known in Germany since the last Documenta art festival, as a cultural advisor. But he does not plan to attend the opening ceremony because, as he says, he cannot abide national self-congratulation.

Herzog: He also demonstratively refused to visit the construction site, even though he could hardly contain his curiosity. Ai Weiwei is deeply enthusiastic about the project. But I understand it when he, as an artist critical of the regime, keeps his distance from anything that could be seen as an endorsement of the regime’s policies.

SPIEGEL: These games are unique, precisely because they are taking place in a country with such a controversial regime like China’s. It’s obvious that the architect who creates the structural frame for this event will be in the global limelight. Did this make the commission so tempting as to override moral reservations?

Herzog: Only an idiot — and not a person who thinks in moral terms would have turned down this opportunity — would have said no. I know that there are architects who now claim that they would never have even considered building in China. This is both a naïve and arrogant position, one that reflects a lack of knowledge of and respect for the incredible cultural achievements this country has continuously provided over the last 5,000 years and still provides today.

SPIEGEL: Isn’t this an excessively positive standpoint, given the recent political turbulence? Some of your colleagues aren’t as charitable.

Herzog: In the last few years, in particular, we have experienced the emergence of a new generation of artists, architects and intellectuals, and they have the ability to change the society in a lasting way. Playing a role in shaping this new era is far more interesting and probably even more moral than taking part in a boycott from one’s desk. We aren’t just referring to architects in this regard, but also to other creative figures. Steven Spielberg agreed early on to be the artistic advisor for the opening ceremony, and then he withdrew, essentially at the last minute, because the regime was no longer to his liking …

SPIEGEL: … in February 2008.

Herzog: It just smells like cheap propaganda, first agreeing to take part in this sort of event and then cancelling for a current political reason that was predictable. China has not become less democratic and does not respect human rights less than it did before. China is still a long way from what we in the West expect, but the establishment of a broad, new intellectual class is a hopeful sign of change.

SPIEGEL: Really? The Tibetan conflict aside, critics are still harassed just as much as they were in the past, under the guise of a supposed liberalization.

Herzog: From our perspective, the society has in fact become freer and more diverse. But many refuse to see this, because they measure everything against our democratic conditions, which are unique and rare and, especially in central Europe, not even all that old. The interesting thing about architecture is that it exists, in a very physical and concrete way, becomes part of the history of a society and can help shape this society. Seen in this light, withdrawals and boycotts are less credible contributions.

TATE 2 [but not too]

Foram reveladas as primeiras imagens pós design-review do gabinete de Jacques Herzog e Pierre de Meuron para ampliação da TATE Modern, entretanto baptizada de TATE 2.

Se não era propriamente um defensor acérrimo da primeira proposta, a coisa também não parece muito melhor depois de revisto o conceito original.

Não deixa de ficar a ideia de que após conclusão da recuperação da Central Eléctrica, e com o adicionar de Iconocoisas na “Costa del Icon” que é a zona Este da cidade de Londres, surgiu o preconceito de que o edifício não é suficientemente reconhecido no meio do espalhafato da paisagem, vai daí, e porque não se seguiram as propostas de Koolhaas, Piano ou Ando que dissecavam literalmente o belíssimo edifício original, resolveu-se recorrer à adição, que neste caso encaro com enorme desconfiança.

Em todo o caso o sitio da TATE tem um update totalmente dedicado à apresentação da proposta, desde o conceito até às mecânicas da ampliação, numa aparente sessão de terapia para quem, como eu, se mantém céptico em relação àquele que será o resultado final.

Vale a pena visitar.

Wanted: Dead

Arquivo Fotográfico CML – Pavilhão de Portugal e Pavilhão Atlântico, 1999

Passeio de domingo por Londres, com o thames ao fundo, e é impossível conter a opinião critica e demolidora sobre aquilo que os ingleses fizeram na frente ribeirinha da cidade. Percebe-se o medo que têm da inovação e o cuidado com que abordaram o nascimento da futura aldeia olímpica que estará pronta em 2012, e a forma como resolveram desenvolver o empreendimento bem fora do centro convencional. É que para além de lhes faltar espaço para o evento, agora também lhes sobra vergonha sobre o que permitiram crescer, sobretudo na área oeste de Londres, onde, pasme-se, não se nota a ofensa formal (fálica, concerteza) de St Mary Axe, a simpática Gherkin da Foster + Partners, que consegue ser sublime e elegante na forma como surge por entre uma série de edifícios desgarrados da carga vitoriana que marcam a imagem da restante cidade. Ali, em plena City, com a Tate ao fundo, o que era suposto ser visto como um momento insólito, é aceite como excelência na excepção, pois todos sabem que três quarteirões mais abaixo, para quem se espante com a pila do Foster, surge cenário muito mais grave, verdadeiramente caótico.

É aqui que se entende a verdadeira dimensão da cultura iconoclasta na arquitectura, onde por um lado surge a excepção, com espaço suficiente para ser entendida como tal, num determinado contexto, conquistando aceitação, e, por outro, a soma avulsa de objectos new-age que não só se excluem completamente do contexto urbano de que deveriam participar (como os primeiros), como, através da repetição exaustiva do brilharete, esmagam por completo os respectivos contextos, passando estes, os elementos geradores de tecido e paisagem, a serem lidos como a parte desconexa da cidade, uma vez que por mais íntegros e clássicos que sejam se acabam por tornar, gradualmente, em minoria.

O exemplo de Londres é sintomático da falta de cuidado com que se aprovam os projectos que suplantaram o modernismo. Os Modernaços.

No entanto, no meio do caos, surgem bons exemplos daquilo que é o período de transição entre a arquitectura clássica e a radical mudança estética que a evolução implantou na sociedade moderna. Onde um edifício, sem se afirmar avantguard, se nota como diferente mas integro, evolutivo mas não degenerativo, como o ponto intermédio da gradual alteração à body-language urbana do novo milénio que dificilmente conseguiria dizimar a carga tectónica do tijolo para dar lugar à elegância e potencialidade formal da mistura Ferro + Betão + Vidro, e lugares como Chelsea e Marylebone atestam essa capacidade brilhante em articular dois tempos distintos dentro da mesma cidade.

Recordo Lisboa.

Recordo as dezenas de imagens que nos foram vendidas no inicio dos anos 90 sobre aquilo que seria o evento marcante de uma nova frente de cidade, a recuperação da zona sul dos Olivais, desde aí até ao poço do bispo, em evento de milhões arrancados ao contribuinte, apadrinhado primeiro pela governação laranja de Cavaco e inaugurada em excelência e emoção pela tropa rosa de Guterres. E depois disto, a miséria.

Recordo a entrada no recinto da exposição, a 7 de Julho de 98, sobre aquilo que viria a ser o futuro centro Vasco da Gama, e o deslumbre com que tudo se anunciava. Das magistrais obras de Siza e Carrilho, às áreas de exposição, o pavilhão Multiusos, o do Futuro e o da Realidade Virtual, e até o insólito Oceanário ou o Kitsch teatro Camões. Perante os excessos e a dignidade da coisa, ninguém lhe ficava indiferente, e a noção de orgulho e amor-próprio pela capacidade em colocar de pé uma coisa do género era rematada pela assustadora envergadura da ponte Vasco da Gama.

Touché, éramos enormes.

Ao longo de um verão, Portugal acreditou naquilo que poderia fazer, e na excelência com que o conseguia executar. E depois acabou. Portão fechado e tempo de balanço.

E aqui, de novo, mais do mesmo.

Dez anos depois, o agora parque das nações é uma sombra (literalmente) daquilo que foi um dos expoentes modernos do nosso orgulho enquanto nação. A construção disparou em flecha, sem controlo, com edifícios pindéricos e sem carácter, sem um pingo de coerência e, pior, sem o mínimo de respeito, pelo elemento gerador, aquele que possibilitou o verdadeiro espectáculo de estupidez que é hoje ‘aquilo’ em nada diferente do que era há vinte anos, antes da expo. O lixo continua por lá, apenas não é o mesmo.

Naturalmente que existem aspectos positivos na expo dos nossos dias. Meia dúzia de bares porreiros para a malta que prefere o ‘parque’ ao ‘bairro’, o pavilhão Atlântico e os espectáculos que enriquecem o nosso quase inexistente cartaz de cultura na capital, o Pavilhão do Conhecimento e o recente Casino, que mal ou bem lá serviu para ocupar um edifício que em muito contribuía para a desagradável memória da expo. Ou o que ainda restava dela.

E o paralelismo entre Lisboa e Londres aqui se quebra por completo. O que permite entender a diferença entre ambas as cidades, e consequentemente, as gritantes diferenças entre ambos os países.

É que se em Londres se permite o caos e desorganização urbana, pela mera falta de cuidado com que se tratam os momentos de excepção, a verdade é que as pessoas participam desta desgraça. Do Shakespeare Theatre ao edifício da Câmara municipal, por mais autista que seja a arquitectura, ela é participativa da vida social, daquilo que é o seu propósito e da forma como, indiscutivelmente, se faz para o povo. Para uso geral, absoluto e ecléctico.

Em Lisboa, a antítese. A expo foi coisa brilhante? Sem duvida que sim, e é aí que se torna perigosa. É aí, no aftermath, que se tem de, rapidamente, definir espaços e limites, para que aquele saudoso verão de 98 seja lembrado com a saudade de quem ali sentia ter um bocadinho seu. Depois disso absolutamente mais nada, pois o seu virá a seu dono.

Assim foi, e melhor executado não poderia ter sido.

O parque das nações é sintomático daquela que é a nossa forma de lidar com a obra publica, e daquela que é a forma como tratamos os ícones que criamos, e a história diz-nos que funciona quase sempre assim.

Da entrega do CCB à colecção Berardo ao esvaziamento do Chiado para habitação. Daquilo que nos dirá o barril de pólvora que se prepara na Alta de Lisboa às discussões eternas em torno de aeroportos e traçados de alta velocidade que há muito deveriam estar concluídos. Por ultimo, da inconsequência do concurso dos vazios urbanos da trienal de arquitectura ao disparate em torno do parque Mayer.

Passeio pela frente sul do river thames e, por entre formas côncavas e convexas, objectos que rasgam o céu e edifícios tímidos que não sobem mais alto que dois andares, convivem em esquisita harmonia. Por ali vejo todo o tipo de pessoas a fazerem uso de tamanhos disparates. Novos, velhos, ricos e pobres, todos eles participam daquele grotesco resultado.

Passo de carro à velocidade que a centena de semáforos me permite alcançar, em pleno Parque das Nações. De gente, zero. Quem trabalha por ali entra e sai pelo estacionamento, e os que dão um ar de si à rua não cabem no seu próprio contentamento, com o telemóvel de ultima geração na mão e o impecável fato Armani que lhes assenta que nem uma luva nos seus tiques de classe alta.

O povo? Anda a cinquenta euros à semana a caminhar para o Continente do Vasco, e a correr para o transporte à hora de ponta.

Sabem todos, que o lugar que ajudaram a construir, há muito lhes foi roubado.

The Trouble with icons

ny

Texto de Graham Morrison no jantar de entrega dos “Awards for Architecture” promovido pela AJ/Bovis, uma reflexão deliciosa sobre a iconografia e os perigos do culto exaustivo da chamada ‘body language’ arquitectónica.

Existem mais alguns essays de leitura obrigatória no sitio oficial da Allies and Morrison

Entretanto os dias são demasiado atarefados para manter uma agenda digna para publicação aqui no Aspirina, prometo manter a coisa activa dentro de alguns dias.

The Trouble With Icons

I want to start by taking a position.

I am suspicious of architecture which makes pompous claims for itself. I think a design that sets out with the conscious intention of being Iconic is unworthy. And, I think a pre-requisite of a good design is one which contributes to its context.
There is a pattern for designs that think well of themselves to be called names like boats or dogs. The parallel to ‘Sea Princess’ and ‘Rex’ are names like  Spiral, Cocoon, Cloud, and Vortex. These names suggest volumes of poetic wonder. What they have in common is, they are all ordinary buildings distorted into unnecessarily complicated shapes, enclosing repeating floors of prosaic space, but whose main purpose is to attract our attention. They all want to be Icons.
I think this fashion for Iconic design is like the sport of High Diving. For the diver, marks are awarded principally for the degree of difficulty. Each element of the dive must be clear for all to see, and the dive must complete with an entry into the water with a graceful minimum of splash. For the designers of our fashionable Icons, the task is very much the same. Making an easy task look sensationally difficult is often their speciality, although entering the pool or the architectural arena without a splash is, I suspect, rather unappealing to them.
Descriptions of the dives like ‘A flying forward double somersault with twist’ bring the images of several recent buildings to mind. Add a ‘reverse take off with jack-knife’ and you will have a spectacle that will simultaneously confuse the critics, impress the students, and momentarily delights the public. The further addition of a ‘half twist before entering the water’ will ensure that a wink and a smile will be caught by the correct camera angle for world wide publication.
Apparently, in future competitions, extra points will be added for style in ladder climbing [no problem here], and also for swimsuit presentation but, I think, this is where the analogy begins to get out of hand.
I am not actually against Icons. I think we need them.
Although we live in a secular age, we still need familiar and reassuring reference points.
With traditional Icons, such as temples or churches, no longer holding the same significance, we need to replace them with new forms which confirm the change in our values, continue to make our evolving cities more legible, and to give us pleasure. In the rush to fill this void, designers have been falling over themselves to apply the Iconic treatment to every imaginable building type. The trouble with these new Icons is discriminating between those which are worthy from those which are not. We must be clear that their impact will be both lasting and beneficial. If they are going to be visible, they have to be good.
So, what exactly is an Icon? Clearly, the modern architectural Icon has come a long way from the devotional paintings venerated in Byzantine churches. These were always anonymous, imbued with humility, and were regarded as windows to something greater; a meaning appropriated by the IT wizards for the symbol on our computer screens giving access to the infinite world beyond.
The alternative meaning, ‘a person or thing, regarded as a representative symbol that is important and enduring’; is a meaning appropriated by our media attentive culture, for the phenomenon of the celebrity. This is the architectural Icon.
It is therefore a building that is highly visible, often provocative, and in its physical form, emphatically carries cultural signals far beyond its need to accommodate space. It is intended to attract attention and, as a design, it is easily reduced to a logo.
These icons are becoming our new landmarks.
Obvious examples are The Sydney Opera House, the Pompidou Centre, and even the new Scottish Parliament Building. This group of modern Icons, all mauled before they could be loved, have a real value in their ability to simultaneously signal both their function and their public importance. They convey the true spirit of their age. They are both useful and memorable. I have no trouble at all with this type of Icon.
There is, however, a second group, which try very hard to be like the first, but suffer from the fact their public importance is less obvious. They are the less significant building types and may not always deserve the profile their sponsors demand.
This is the group I wish to focus on. This is where, in my view, the trouble with Icons lies.
Now here, I have to mention the very significant effect of the Guggenheim in Bilbao. Though I am not convinced it is a great work of architecture, it is firmly in the first category as its public credentials are clear. Its significance, to me, as a building however, is less in its extraordinary shape and surface, which many now think to be formulaic, than in the general acceptability of its formal abstraction.
Here, we have an important building whose representation to the outside worlds bears little obvious indication of its content, and while we are all now attuned to recognising such structures as cultural buildings, could it be that this abstract formula, which disguises a building’s content, be further applied to more prosaic accommodation?.  If so, any building at all could be an Icon.
With Bilbao, ‘celebrity architecture’ in all its low-cut and high-rise disguises had come of age. It was certain to be followed by a torrent of imitators.
As it happened, the launching of the Guggenheim coincided with a new public appetite for the Bling-Bling architectural image. The investment in buildings by the Lottery and the consequential interest from the press provoked a demand for ‘finished’ images, often prepared rather too early in their design process. They encouraged the representation of a single uncomplicated idea, a ‘one-liner’, an architectural word-bite,  that once in the public realm was considered sold and would be difficult to change.
A competition developed for attention, and as this increased, each image had to be more extraordinary and shocking, in order to eclipse the last. Each new design had to be instantly memorable; more Iconic. It was, and is, a fatuous and self indulgent game.
We only need to take a trip down the Thames and look at the buildings on the river bank from Southwark to Wandsworth to see its effect. On what I now call the ‘Costa del Icon’, we see an endless array of second-rate architecture all shrilly demanding individual attention and without any relationship to each other; celebrity misfits in a policy vacuum, their impact further diminished by ubiquity. How many landmarks does one city need?
We remember the original presentations for many of these buildings. With sophisticated computer imagery and carefully lit models, they were all very seductive, but seeing their over-egged claims realised, we are left disappointed and suspicious.
Learning from this, I wonder if we shouldn’t ask ourselves some simple questions before handing out more approvals and plaudits to these ‘visionary’ auteurs.
The first might be,
Within the order and balance of the city, is there a value in the representation of essentially prosaic accommodation as Icons?
The answer to this may well be ‘Yes’, but we must be clear there is a difference between something that surprises and delights and the equivalent of the school show-off who, tediously, makes a lot of noise.
Second and more obvious,
‘Why does it look the way it does?’ Why does this proposal seem to have all the modesty of a party outfit belonging to Elton John?
I think an Icon can often be a disguise for an alternative agenda. Sometimes a design is little more than a marketing strategy presented as a cultural flourish, and sometimes an Icon is used to elevate the design debate to an unimpeachable artistic level simply to deflect criticism from its content.
Third,
Is it simply trying too hard? Is its accommodation compromised by the need to project its Iconic image?
If the ordinary is forced to look extraordinary, it may increasingly be at the expense of doing its ordinary task well.
And fourth, concerning the public realm,
‘What contribution, other than the sense of itself does the Icon make to its context?’
The seductive images almost always focus on the building as an isolated object. An object that is often hermetic and usually self-referring. These images rarely look at the consequential space that is formed.
Our cities are made of a tradition of normative buildings which form our streets and lanes, our squares and avenues.  These familiar spaces, the public realm, are more valuable to us than any individual building.  It is the quiet strength of their normality which allows the Icon to be special. We need to look at the city as a whole and no Icon should leave it worse off.
Too many Icons and the fabric of the city is distorted, but too few Icons and the city is dull. For Icons to have validity, they must positively contribute to their context.
Before I finish, I would like to touch on two examples of ways in which, I think, Icons fail to do this and may end up working against us.
The first deals with what I feel is the Icon’s illusory regenerative qualities, and the second deals with the Iconic form being used in an attempt to secure a lucrative planning approval.
Everyone talks about the Bilbao effect. About how one remarkable building can change the perception and boost the economy of a city. But, we are short of evidence for the claim that architecture in the form of a single gesture, however theatrical, can have such restorative powers. Without Easy-Jet, it is far from certain the small economic gains in Bilbao would be measurable at all. But now every failing town or institution has thoughts about some kind of architectural Icon which they hope will be their salvation.
They are seeking an elixir.
It is as if they were the gullible recipients of those ‘medicines’ dispensed by the Victorian quack doctors whose drugs were spiked with alcohol and gave only temporary and illusory comfort to the afflicted.
As the elixir of the Icon is dispensed and its curative effect is seen to be less than was hoped for, it is almost as if the very presence of an Icon is to shine a grim spotlight indicating exactly the areas that are struggling. After all, the jolliest murals were always painted on the gable walls of the most disadvantaged housing estates.
At the London Metropolitan University on the Holloway Road, the elixir has been dispensed by Daniel Libeskind. The new graduate centre, entitled ‘Orion’ [yet another name] and formed from three intersecting shards of grey metal,  is a further development of the crumpled thinking seen earlier at the V&A. Despite the far-fetched claims of his web-site for the origin of his concept, the design is little more than a cultural placebo, a distraction, that  quite possibly, in failing to deal with the real organisational issues of the university, inherited from decades of poor estate management, may do more long term damage than good.
The second example is of a proposal for a new office building. The question here is; Is being Iconic enough of a justification, for what some see as a vast and unwelcome structure?
The office building is the true chameleon of our time. We have seen it mutate from a Miesian ‘ideal,’ into a post modern palace, into a hi-tech machine, into organic forms, and now blobs dressed up as art. Strangely, for a building type so concerned with efficiency, these changes in its skin are rarely market or customer led. They are more often than not, driven simply by the need to get a planning approval.
The latest example of this mutation is the chiselled object of angular art. We saw this at London Bridge, where the planning inspector applauded Renzo Piano’s assembly of glass shards, and hailed it as an artistic success. It has now been followed, with almost Darwinian predictability, by the proposal for Elizabeth House at Waterloo.
If  the confused assembly of ‘Donuts on sticks’ in Liverpool, known inexplicably as ‘The Cloud’, is regarded as its ‘Fourth Grace’, then the proposal at Waterloo must be Cinderella’s ugly sister.
This domineering, elephantine project of 1m sq.ft, is made entirely of glass and is claimed to reflect light in a way that is varied and beautiful.
Enormous it is, beautiful it is not.
Its formidable design team, which includes an artist, is at pains to persuade us that this sister of Cinderella is an object of merit and that it has all the delicate cultural credentials for her gargantuan foot to fit the magic glass slipper of public approval. I think they are in difficulty as, try as they might, it isn’t going to fit.
I find it hard to blame the development team for their attempt, as the design, after all follows the lead of some other, perhaps better regarded, Icons where the surface of the building is similarly [and abstractly] packaged as art.
In summary, the trouble with Icons comes when there is either pretence or lack of authenticity. Add to this the competition for each new Icon to eclipse the last, and the trail of designers blindly following a fashion and you have a recipe for the betrayal of sound architectural values.
So, in my view, there are good icons and bad icons and for the latter, I offer a new definition for our architectural lexicon.
A  Bad Icon is  ‘the built representation of an unsupportable claim, a meaningless or pompous gesture, which exceeds the reasonable representation of its content, initiated either by vanity or expedience, in which the efficient working of its accommodation is compromised and the context in which it is built is left worse off’.

I can think of four designs for Icons which work well.
First, Will Alsop is producing another very unusual form but which resolves the difficulties of layers poor estate management Goldsmiths College and successfully integrates it with and the urban fabric of New Cross.
Second, is Richard Rogers’ proposed tower in Leadenhall Street. Although taller than Swiss Re, it manages, without any loss of design integrity, to cleverly extend the public realm as it meets the ground, and with each succeeding floor receding from the last,g in size, develops the form of a thin vertical wedge which brilliantly defers to St Paul’s.
Third, and to my surprise as I was an initial sceptic, is the London Eye. Its sheer scale, directional quality and design integrity and its contribution to public delight in London, makes it a welcome addition to the city.
And fourth, I do admire the work of Herzog and De Meuron. Their recent competition winning scheme for the new cultural centre at the city of Flamenco, Jerez, is a thoughtful response to a significant site and avoids the complicated and contorted geometries of their rivals. Theirs is an architecture which rarely repeats itself, avoids the formulaic, and always derives real significance from its context. Their metaphors are carried through to an integrated conclusion.
These projects demonstrate that it is possible to produce buildings that combine the accommodation of something essentially prosaic with a powerful response to context and without compromising integrity. They are in my view all worthy Icons.

S’A ARQUITECTOS + ESESTUDIO – Bridging the City

Synchronicity - S’A Arquitectos, É a unica equipa Portuguesa convidada para o evento e que surge em colaboração com o ESEstudio. A proposta de uma ponte sobre o rio Vistula como link improvável entre duas margens semelhantes pretende anular o esventramento da cidade, fazendo cidade sobre o rio sem anular a sua natureza.

Sheet_01

Sheet_02

Sheet_03

MD


1 Vistula River.
Warsaw is the only European Capital with a river still unregulated and unurbanized – in a simple expression, a wild river running in the middle of the city. At first, this can be seen as a problem in urgent need for a solution, but more often than expected, the answer is hidden in the question.

2 Thinking of the future. The best approach we can have is to maintain Vistula River as it is. The challenge of transforming Warsaw into the capital of the new eastern European front must start from a radical ecologic approach, or a 3-step program to sustainable development.

3 From Urban Handicap to Ecological Added Value. A “do-not-touch” concept is the first step.
It understands and accepts the wilderness condition of the river and assumes it as a positive value for the future.

4 Point to Point. Using parameters as mobility systems and transportation networks to decide the location of strategic placement of anchor developments in an urban scale. New transport interfaces are tactically placed along the river to generate city growth and attract program diversity.

5 Anchor Points. Five different bridges are the result of this strategic approach. These phylogenetic method results in different buildings adapted to diverse urban situations. River width, bank programs, city necessities, mobility networks, solar orientation, wind protection, panoramic views, etc. can influence and modify the design, transforming a basic shape into different bridge solutions.

6 City Extension The typology of the bridges is the result of the confrontation of different programs, somewhere between public and private, individual and collective. The city doesn’t stop in the river banks, but extends itself to connect both margins, transforming an urban fracture into a continuous city.