From the architect. Jardín San Hipólito is a garden venue with capacity for a thousand people, located in a property of 3 hectares of wooded area on the outskirts of Mexico City. The site has housing potential, and will be developed within 10 years, which is why one of the most important premises of the competition was to design and build a removable and lightweight structure.
With that peculiarity, the design still harnesses and utilizes the natural components of the wooden landscape, guaranteeing a direct connection with the surrounding environment.
Site Plan
The project is composed by 3 tents: the main one, designed to serve as a main space for a diverse range of events, covers 1000 sqm (40 x 25 meters), which is free of columns and floored with a concrete slab equipped with a radiating heating system that creates a warm atmosphere; and two smaller adjacent tents of 250 m2 each, which lodge bathrooms and a kitchen, respectively. Service areas, facilities, accommodations, storage and landscaped areas are featured as well.
To curb the prevailing winds and avoid a sail effect inside the main tent, natural slopes were erected to shape and frame the perimeter of the site by reusing and repurposing the materials resulting from the excavations and weeding of the land, anchoring the project to its context.
Detail
Elevation
The tents were assembled with a tensed plastic membrane and a digitally designed and manufactured lightweight steel structure with IPR beams with 80cm cambers that are pinned/screwed in intersecting 45 degrees. The main structure’s highest point and height at the intersection is 17 meters.
Konstantin Melnikov (August 3, 1890 – November 28, 1974) played a key role in shaping Soviet Architecture from the mid-twenties to mid-thirties, despite being independent from the Constructivists who dominated architecture at the time. Besides his well-known pavilion for the USSR at the 1925 Exposition des Arts Decoratifs in Paris, Melnikov was famous in Moscow for his workers’ club building, for his own house, and for his bus garages.
With this recent photoset, photographer Denis Esakov (who is now looking for a publisher to produce a photobook featuring the full set of almost 600 images) has created a unique opportunity to explore – both inside and out – all 12 Melnikov projects that shaped Moscow’s Architecture during the Soviet Era.
After the Revolution of 1917, Lenin put the New Economy Policy (NEP) into place so that the country would regain prosperity after years of Civil War. The building industry, which had ceased at the beginning of the First World War, was facing a heavy programme of construction. Communal housing, government infrastructures, and collective facilities were springing up across Moscow. Architects were expected to follow the Bolshevik programme, by thinking in terms of economy, rationalization and standardization. The aim was to give everyone access to similar standards of living, but also to display Russia’s latest technical advances in the building industry: a claim of superiority against Western countries.
Melnikov was commissioned to build public infrastructures, mostly bus garages – Bakhmetevsky Bus Garage (1926), Garage Intourist (1934), and Gosplan Garage (1936), as well as the Office of New Sukharev Market (1924). Instead of experimenting with new technology – as Constructivists did – Melnikov worked with the materials available from the timber-cutting, brick-making, and cement production industries that resisted the Civil War. For his bus garage roofs, he used lengthened steel girders: a construction method that was already widespread in Russia.[1]
Similarly, when designing his own house in the district of Arbat, Melnikov decided to update traditional brickwork techniques by concentrating stresses into specific parts of the structure. While windows contributed to the aesthetic aspect and provided well-spread natural light, their primary function was to channel and concentrate structural loads. Hexagonal portals were placed evenly across the brick structure. Some were filled-in with insulation, while others functioned as windows. In doing so, Melnikov rationalized an existing method, appointed local industries, and used material resources sparingly, which made the whole project more economically viable.[2]
The house also exemplifies how Melnikov assembled volumes, played with sharp angles and a certain simplicity of lines. Indoors, Melnikov privileged the abundance of natural light and the clarity of colours. Melnikov thought architecture was a “volumetric and spatial art” and disavowed the Constructivists’ “socially responsive” methods that rationalized the design process under a functionalist ideology.[3]
In addition, Melnikov was involved in the development of a new building typology, the workers’ clubs, which furthered the Soviet government’s will to promote a collective ideal. A far cry from the Tsarist era, clubs no longer hosted the elite, but the masses of society. Led by trade-union or political organizations, they offered creative activities and allowed people of any age to rest and get away from the busy factories and the discomfort of overcrowded homes. Workers’ clubs also implemented the idea of a new social and collective order, which Constructivist painter and designer El Lissitsky thought politically wise: “Depending on the prevalent social order, [Buildings designed to serve all of society] have usually been of either a religious or a governmental character: the Church and the Palace. These were the power sources of the old order. Their power can only be transcended by establishing new power sources belonging to our new order.”[4]
Melnikov was the first to find a design solution that would adapt to the new functions and social needs of the workers’ clubs. Before him, the first workers’ club heavily referred to theater or opera buildings, featuring rococo stages, boxes, orchestras, dress circles, superfluous lobbies and extravagant materials.[5] Although Melnikov designed his workers’ club with a central auditorium similar to traditional cultural centers, he understood the growing need for flexibility. The stage could be used by different groups of amateurs, for different sizes of audience and types of production. Melnikov’s club for the Kauchuk factory (1929) was equipped with moving partitions to delimit smaller or larger spaces depending on the occasion. This was a persistent concept throughout Melnikov’s work on workers’ clubs. At the well-known Rusakov Workers’ Club (1929) the auditoria could “be transformed for 350, 450, 550, 775, 1000 or 1200 people.”[6]
Publishers interested in Denis Esakov’s planned photobook can contact him here.
References:
Catherine Cooke ed., Russian Avant-garde: Art and Architecture (London: Academy Editions, 1983), 61.
Ibid, 62.
Andreas C. Papadakis ed., The Avant-garde: Russian Architecture in the Twenties (London: Academy Editions, 1991), 15-7.
El Lissitzky, Russia: An Architecture for World Revolution, trans. Eric Dluhosch (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1970), 43.
Anatole Kopp, Town and revolution; Soviet architecture and city planning, 1917-1935, trans. Thomas E. Burton (New York: G. Braziller, 1970). From extract seen here.
his project is located in a quiet neighbourhood in Vancouver, British Columbia and is situated on a corner lot. The lot is also wider than the typical Vancouver lot.
Courtesy of Randy Bens architect
The building addresses its long public frontage with a punctuated white brick facade. The brick is handled two ways on this facade. It forms a strong base with planes that extend into the landscape defining entries and outdoor spaces. The upper brick plane floats above delicate corner glazed windows, defining the upper deck and adding visual tension. The planes fly past the dark cedar walls, and impart movement to the facade that we felt was appropriate for its corner lot setting.
Courtesy of Randy Bens architect
The interior is filled with light, and the owner wanted to feel the full width of the lot on the main floor. The plan is very open, and very little cabinetry goes to the ceiling. The expansiveness is reinforced by the large floor opening at the stair, which features a bamboo stand emanating from the lower floor. The punctuated openings in the white brick wall frame views to the west, and east light is brought in from sideyard windows centered around the stair and bamboo garden. The stair rail is solid, giving the bamboo a neutral backdrop and adding to the gallery-like feel.
Elevations
The interior material palette is deliberately simple, and timeless. Wide plank oak flooring is contrasted with darker walnut cabinetry and panelling throughout, which in turn is set off by simple and elegant white tile and counter tops.
Purcell has been announced as the winner of the St Mary Redcliffe Design Competition, organized by Malcolm Reading. The competition sought a design which successfully reconciled the preservation of the building in its historical form with the necessary expansion to accommodate growing programmatic requirements.
The two-stage competition drew initial submissions from 53 practices, both local and international. Of these, Eric Parry Architects, Carmody Groarke, Feilden Clegg Bradley Studios, dRMM and Purcell were invited to submit concept designs, all of which can be viewed here. Purcell’s winning design uses two main axes to “stitch” the church into its neighborhood and is described by Malcolm Reading as showing “the deepest understanding of the site and context and the opportunity at St Mary Redcliffe.”
St Mary Redcliffe, a church grand enough to rival European cathedrals, has provided a place of Christian worship at the heart of Redcliffe for almost 900 years. Its significance as a masterpiece of gothic architecture is undeniable, and it attracts tens of thousands of visitors per year. The building’s eminence brings with it a series of programmatic strains, as medieval plans no longer provide space for the facilities needed. The body of the church, with a distinctive cruciform floor plan, operates as one large space disallowing activities outside of worship and welcome. The church staff are without auxiliary space to carry out community or missionary activities, and are relegated to the parish offices and church undercroft. Access throughout the precinct is limited, with staircases acting as the main circulatory elements.
While these elements have held their function in the past, they are not enabling the church to operate at its fullest capacity now. Therefore, rather than focusing solely on historical restoration, Rev. Dan Tyndall outlined that the successful scheme should “help us both tell our story and shape it,” as “valuing our heritage is only part of our present mission.” This mission centers around the expansion of facilities to create a more inclusive community centre.
The competition was the result of 12 years of detailed studies by the management team. The new centre was to include administrative and support spaces, exhibition spaces, a café, a shop, a meeting hall, and a new community centre, while amending accessibility to all existing amenities with a step-free circulation approach.
Purcell’s scheme responds to this vision with what the architect describes as “a ‘stitch’ of interconnected buildings, [which] re-establishes the church’s medieval enclosure and creates a new, permeable edge to the church grounds that will improve public access.” The new buildings respect the inimitable gothic architecture, subtly playing up to existing design elements by creating a new “red cliff” of structures to mirror the building’s namesake. Senior Architect Dan Talkes said: “For the church, this project represents a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to repair the fault lines that exist in Redcliffe’s urban fabric and, in doing so, to position the church at the physical, spiritual and social heart of the city.”
The site is positioned at the epicenter of the Redcliffe Neighbourhood Development Area, with each of its adjacent neighborhoods due for regeneration within the next decade. Purcell’s scheme, which aims “to position St Mary Redcliffe as the centrepiece of wider regeneration,” aligns its core goals with those of the Redcliffe Neighbourhood Development Forum, a collective guiding the regeneration of greater Redcliffe. Purcell’s design focused on urban integration and the activation of existing assets in the community.
Two main axes cut through the precinct and link up to existing streets, creating a new urban village. Rev. Dan Tyndall also noted that a “particular strength was the dispersal of accommodation across three locations, helping to tie the disparate northern and southern parts of Redcliffe together.”
From the architect. The project B5 Boulogne is part of the urban development zone called Seguin Rives de Seine near Paris. This area was formerly home to the monumental Renault factories. As a result of the delocalization of these factories, a surface of 74 hectares has been liberated. This new area named “Macrolot B5” has been divided into seven smaller blocks distributed around a large urban garden. Seven architects were selected to design seven different buildings, organized by an urban coordinator in charge of the Macrolot B5.
White concrete, implemented in several ways, is the material connection between the buildings in the project. They are also connected through a common garden, located in the centre of the Macrolot B5. Not only is this generous garden visible from the surrounding streets through vaults in the buildings, but it also forms a generous ecological biotope providing calm and green views to the inhabitants. Additionally, most of the rain water is immediately treated on site to prevent over pouring the urban drain system. As a result of this, the Macrolot B5 works as an ecological hamlet, inviting people to meet, talk and reinforce a more environmental behaviour.
Our building is located in the centre of the site, which was the main constraint, just as a fountain in the middle of a cloister. How could the building’s position transcend this constraint ? The pillar of our design proceeds from this principle, this central position, providing both generous indoor spaces, and outdoor spaces by gently protecting the views brought us to this design: the Boulogne Arches.
Visible from all sides, like a sculpture set on the ground, the building evolves evenly across each facade. The arch compositions are a contemporary interpretation of the classical vocabulary of the former Renault factories, yet this second skin is not just a formal one; the arches, in fact, extend around the building fulfilling different functions, with the accent on accommodation.
Each property enjoys a private outdoor space of long balconies which are protected by this double skin. The width of these balconies varies according to their orientation; they are narrower to the north thus maximizing illumination. However to the South, East and West the arches provide shade against natural overheating in summer. Despite the central location of the building the second skin also provides privacy, by preventing visibility of the interior from the outside. Moreover, the housing is multi-oriented, thus benefiting from natural light and solar energy throughout the day. Finally, social housing is reinvented here thanks to the unique appearance of the structure, offering 33 social housing units in an encased building, a finely designed central piece of Macrolot B5, Boulogne.
Built in the early days of airline travel, the TWA Terminal is a concrete symbol of the rapid technological transformations which were fueled by the outset of the Second World War. Eero Saarinen sought to capture the sensation of flight in all aspects of the building, from a fluid and open interior, to the wing-like concrete shell of the roof. At TWA’s behest, Saarinen designed more than a functional terminal; he designed a monument to the airline and to aviation itself.
This AD Classic features a series of exclusive images by Cameron Blaylock, photographed in May 2016. Blaylock used a Contax camera and Zeiss lenses with Rollei black and white film to reflect camera technology of the 1960s.
Though airplanes had existed since the early 1900’s, it was not until after the Second World War that commercial air travel started to become commonplace. Trans World Airlines was a key player in this development: by allowing customers to purchase flights in discounted packages and offering extended payment plans, the airline took an expensive luxury option and made it accessible to America’s burgeoning middle class. In some cases, their price reductions made travel by airplane cheaper than that by train.[1]
Courtesy of United States Library of Congress
With air travel on the rise, the Port of New York Authority instituted a plan to expand Idlewild Airport (today’s John F. Kennedy Airport) in 1954. The plan, which would allow the airport to handle the massively increased air traffic in and out of New York City, called for each major airline to design, construct, and operate its own independent terminal, a scheme dubbed “Terminal City.” This arrangement was made at the urging of the airlines themselves, who saw it as an opportunity to forge lasting brand identities for themselves in the new terminals they would build – regardless of the spatial and aesthetic disarray it would ultimately foment.[2]
Courtesy of United States Library of Congress
TWA approached Eero Saarinen with the project in 1955. Tellingly, the decision was made by the artistic director of the public relations department – a clear sign of the terminal’s role in advertising the airline. This mandate was even made official in the company’s project commission, which called for efficient ground operations infrastructure that would “provide TWA with advertising, publicity and attention.”[3] Saarinen took the airline’s emphasis on public attention to heart from the beginning, capitalizing on a site that sat at the apex of the airport’s main access road.[4]
Courtesy of United States Library of Congress
With the site chosen, Saarinen began to develop a design that would take full advantage of its prominence within Idlewild. He ultimately proposed a symmetrical arrangement of four curved, concrete shell roof segments, the curves of which flowed seamlessly from the piers that supported them. Each of the four roof structures was separated from its neighbors by narrow skylights, with a circular pendant occupying the centerpoint in which all four meet.[5]
Precisely where Saarinen found inspiration for the form of the terminal remains a matter of speculation. In keeping with the building’s role as the architectural face of TWA, many have noted its resemblance to bird or an airplane in flight; the dynamic upturn of its roof line certainly seems to suggest as much. There is, however, an apocryphal story that suggests Saarinen’s true inspiration was found not in aviation, but in the hollowed-out rind of a grapefruit he pressed down in the middle. Whether the story is true or not, Saarinen never claimed that his design was meant to represent anything physical; it was, he insisted, an abstraction of the idea of flight itself.[6]
The fluidity of the terminal’s exterior was carried faithfully through its interior, as well. The vaulting of the roof shell allowed for a spacious and free-flowing interior layout, almost entirely devoid of spatial boundaries. Every element, whether structural or circulatory, was carried out in this fashion; staircases all curved, and even the columns supporting upper walkways were seamlessly melded into both the ground and the ceilings. Visitors entered the space under a cantilevered marquee, progressing from the ticketing spaces at ground level to the restaurants and meeting rooms above. A sunken waiting area offered a view of airport operations through its immense window, while; two tubular corridors led off toward the boarding gates.[7]
Courtesy of United States Library of Congress
Even before opening to the public, the TWA Terminal attracted a great deal of attention – and not all of it positive. The press was decidedly enthusiastic about Saarinen’s design, heaping acclaim on the building’s dynamic form and fluid interior; the terminal was such a powerful symbol for the airline that even as its budget ballooned from $9 million to $15 million, TWA never enforced cutbacks on the project.[8]
However, while the general public was quite taken with TWA’s new architectural icon, the dogmatic nature of mid-century architectural practice opened Saarinen to scathing critique by some of his peers. His concrete shell, while eminently expressive, was structurally inefficient and required a great deal of hidden steel support; more damning, however, was the architect’s association with corporations and government institutions. He was derided by critics for tailoring his architectural style to the job, instead of tailoring the project to his style. The TWA Terminal, differing greatly from his previous Miesian, rectilinear works and with an interior finished in TWA’s livery of crimson and white, was seen as an unholy marriage of the architect’s two greatest perceived failings.[9]
Despite these criticisms, the TWA Terminal opened to great acclaim in 1962. Saarinen had passed away in 1961, having only seen the superstructure of the building completed. While the terminal established itself as a symbol of the jet age, it was ironically ill-suited to servicing jet airliners; its design was largely completed before 1958, when the first viable jet airliners began to supplant their propeller-driven forebears.[10]
Despite upgrades, the terminal was never truly able to catch up as jet airliners grew in size and number; it eventually closed its doors in 2001, its future uncertain. Fortunately, its survival was ensured by its placement on the United States National Registers of Historic Places in 2005, and more recently by the announcement that the former terminal will be renovated to serve as an airport hotel.[11] In this guise, the TWA Terminal will continue to stand as an icon not only of flight, but of the heady postwar era in which it was conceived.
References [1] Ringli, Kornel, and David Koralek. Designing TWA: Eero Saarinen’s Airport Terminal in New York. Zurich: Park Books AG, 2015. p47. [2] Stoller, Ezra. The TWA Terminal. New York: Princeton Architectural Press, 1999. p2. [3] Ringli et al, p79. [4] Stoller, p3. [5] Stoller, p5. [6] Stoller, p1. [7] Serraino, Pierluigi, Eero Saarinen, and Peter Gössel. Eero Saarinen, 1910-1961: A Structural Expressionist. Köln: Taschen, 2006. p63-64. [8] Ringli et al, p87-88. [9] Stoller, p5-10. [10] Stoller, p4-9. [11] “History & Design – TWA Flight Center Hotel.” TWA Flight Center Hotel. Accessed May 13, 2016. [access].
In the spring of 2015 the the municipality of Voss, a municipality in western Norway, invited entrepreneurs and architects to participate in tenders for a pedestrian bridge over the river Vosso. The bridge was to replace a historic bridge, which had been taken by a flood in the river the previous year. The team of IKM Steel & Facade, SK Langeland and Rintala Eggertsson Architects won the competition with a steel lattice bridge in cor-ten steel and wooden floors, walls and ceilings in wood.
It was an important for the client to provide the pedestrians with enough visibility to the powerful nature in the area. The river is also a good fishing river, which has proved to be a source of recreation for the local population where the old bridge was an important a basecamp of activities. This was something the municipality wanted to incorporate in the design of the new bridge.
The design of the new bridge was generated by the idea of a rhythmical play of modules crossing the river in order to break down the timeline into intervals and reduce the monotony when crossing the river. This play of modules would be based on the distance between the already existing pillars in the river, the only remains of the old bridge.
The main steel structure would form the base rhythm and the wooden structure a secondary movement, similar to what you would find in a score for percussion instruments. The two rooms on top of the pillars were therefore used to generate pauses in this otherwise regular rhythm, offering a break from the linear movement across and a possibility of more direct contact with the landscape. They were also ideal as fishing platforms as the two activities would not need to disturb each other anymore.
The old bridge which collapsed in the river flooding was a suspension bridge with a clear visual language. That clarity was an important point of departure for us in the design of the new bridge. But given the two main materials, steel and wood, it became natural to differentiate between the inside and the outside and offer the two materials different roles so to play. The steel would express the raw forces going through the bearing structure on the outside and the other would communicate sensorial information on a human scale on the inside.
As it often is the case with bridges, maintenance was an important issue for the client. They were therefore very intrigued by the idea of using Cor-ten steel as a main structure and Accoya as a cladding material. That would combine strength, durability and above all no costs of maintenance over the years. They also liked the idea of covering the bridge with a roof, which would eliminate the need of snow plowing, which can be complicated issue for pedestrian bridges.
This is a project for the construction of two houses in a residential neighborhood in Porto. The lot was long, and the project was inside the lot with limited access to the main road, and a beautiful existing garden to maintain and enhance.
The program provided the maintenance of the existing house and the construction of two houses at all identical, being inhabited by members of the same family.
The solution should include individualized access to the existing house and ensure separate access to the new houses. The building along the street ensures the privacy of access and uses.
Plan
Section
The L layout ensures different levels of privacy, enhances the solar orientation and references each house with the garden.
The sum of several opaque volumes intersect the facade, allowing natural light in all indoor spaces, punctuating the inner fragmentation and ensuring a second level of privacy. The program is divided along the two bodies of L shape building.
From the Central Hall, develops the body of the Rooms with the orientation West and a corridor along which are developed the bedrooms.
The living areas are opened to the garden and divided with this “baths boxes” that fit over the main volume. This rhythm of volumes results in the second degree of privacy.
Constructively, the houses have a great simplicity of methods and finishes, with the use of American pine in floors, Frames from VITROCSA and baths coated Marble Ataíja.
Tongdeng Culture and Media Ltd – Beaver Workshop Office Space in Beijing
“Beaver Workshop” Office Space is an innovative work space tailored for a film and media company. It is located in a business park for creative industries, which was transformed from a concrete factory, in Chaoyang District, Beijing. The original space was a single-story truss-structured warehouse, containing three spans, with net height 6 metres and ridge height 9 metres. The client expects to double the usable area by adding an interlayer, thus fulfilling the functional requirements of animation, art, screenwriting, directing, producing, and logistics sections.
We expands the usable space by inserting a multi-opening box which occupied more than half of the site: an atrium and all the inward rooms as Independent offices, meeting rooms, rehearsal room and logistical spaces are contained in the box, while the flowing space outside the box are left for open work space. The client wants to create a flexible, interactive, equal, and fun space atmosphere to inspire employees’ creativity. A split-level strategy is applied to arrange the large conference room and the animation rehearsal room so that people from both first and second level can see the activities inside these spaces. The flowing space creates unique experiences by the collaboration of five different levels and the multi-opening walls.
Public areas are vital compositions in this innovative office project, and practitioners in creative industries would expect comfortable and relaxing public spaces with life-like experience in this kind of office projects. The atrium connects first and second floor vertically, with lamps and potted plants hanging above a long table, in order to serve a perfect place for presentation, open conference, brainstorming, and team-building party. The tea corner, instead of being enclosed as in a traditional office space, is enlarged into an island bar, providing a recreation spot and networking platform as well as a space for temporary small meeting and brainstorming. The highlight of public space is the atrium area on the second floor: sunlight flooding in through the skylights, hanging plants running through the whole space from roof to the first floor, work space for art and directing section outside the multi-opening box, while on the inside the rehearsal room, the conference room, and the independent office on third floor. Almost every space is making connection with this central area spatially or visually.
There are mainly three features in the design of this office space:
1, Due to the extension layers inside the space, the vertical circulation between levels merges out as the primary issue in the space. We decided to choose the longest path, the one spiraling up along the box. The extended path enriches the spatial experience during walking and increases the sense of volume.
2, Since the client is a film and animation media company, contextualized spatial experience would be the best way to interpreting their characteristics and corporate culture. In Beaver Workshop Office Space, the spiral path links up different office scenes in working areas, meeting areas and recreation areas, with these scenes independent functionally but connected spatially.
3, The insertion of the multi-opening box allows multi-layered penetration and flow in the space. Every independent scene linked up by the path can interact with each other visually, endowing this space a transparent feature in phenomenon.
The project began with an individual exercise, where students Daniel Chapman, Mark-Thomas Cordova, Jaime Inostroza, Dylan Kessler, Pablo Moncayo, Natasha Vemulkonda, and Pierre Verbruggen each created their own temporary shelters. Partially due to harsh desert conditions, the students, with their instructor David Tapias, later decided to design and build as a collective effort instead.
The main objective was to utilise as many on-site resources as possible, but with a $2,000 budget from the school, the students purchased inexpensive materials from warehouses giving them the freedom to further explore their designs.
Overall, the project took 12 weeks to complete, and led to the construction of two shared shelters and a gathering space. Over future years, these shelters will be utilised by other students, who will transform, maintain, and document them on the little maps Website.
Sig Nordal 