The building has been conceptualized around a series of courtyards, giving private outlook and amenity to staff and patients, whilst creating calm and tranquility in an otherwise busy and high volume practice.
A colonnade representative of a “steel forest” defines the edge of the building providing an architectural veil separating the predominant glass façade and interiors from the urban fabric. Structurally, the roof form consists of simple “A” frame trusses inverted to form a flat roof, each truss individually supported by a steel column. The combination of the column repetition together with the inverted trusses, forming a metal clad raked soffit, generate the main facades of the building. The exterior contrasts with the glazed curtain wall and interiors which consist of cedar and ply.
Sited behind the town’s main street and bound by Ormuz Avenue on the North, and a lane (Lampkin Lane) to the West and South boundaries. The western boundary has an industrious outlook, as well as an angular alignment triangulating the alignment in relation to all other boundaries.
Plan
The building is sited hard on the western boundary treated with a highly articulated boundary wall occasionally interrupted by courtyards screened from the adjacent building fabric.
The practice of eye care requires a consultation that is extensive in time together with a procession of consultative engagements in any given visit. The building functions to accommodate this procession of events simplifying the movement and workflow in a logical sequence from arrival to completion of the consultation. Fundamental to this workflow for patients, is to provide a non-institutional caring environment, with privacy and intimacy. This is achieved by creating a number of smaller waiting areas adjacent to the relevant function. These waiting areas form the core of the internal spaces, with outlook to the landscaped courtyards, and featuring an abundance of natural light through the roof light well that occupies the entire space.
The brief required additional commercial space and this has been generated along the main street frontage for maximum exposure and viability, with the specialist Clinic accessed via a cloister revealing the quantum of the “inverted truss”.
From the architect. Following the partial demolition of a social housing units, this project expresses a link between the historical district and the vale of “Dervallières” while re-introducing an appropriation of the nearby green spaces.
Diagram
The volumetric aspect consists of a new building attached to a larger old building complex. The project thus sets up in the axis of the composition of the original plan, in order not to obstruct the East-West perspectives of the neighbourhood, and make the project fit in the important site topography. Stretching eastward, the project conveys the will to anchor the building over the vale and the Renoir street, major axis of the revival of the eastern part of the district.
The project results from the combination of three entities. The perception of the five-storey apartment block facing Callot street is radically scrambled by its shortening, and the visual separation of its lower floors. These levels now establish a base fitting into the landform, an intermediate building with lively terraces facing the pedestrian path. The new eastern construction extends the composition with a simple volume, a five-storey apartment block standing on a base.
Elevation South
Elevation North
The design of a light metallic framework, inspired by the composition grid of the old building and the close ones, enables a consistency of the whole building complex. Stretching the silhouette of the new building to the lower floors of the old building, this structure accommodates new functions.
The combination of steel and wood for the new building and the refurbishment of the old lower floors conjures up a shared imaginary realm of gardens and parks, in close relation with the near green spaces.
The unvarying and monochrome coating of the Callot building makes it easily understandable, while giving it back the elegance of a simple horizontal building.
I can’t start this evening without a mention to Zaha. When we got the news last week, we just couldn’t believe it. Or maybe we didn’t want to believe it. As Rafael Iglesia, an Argentinian architect who also died too early of a heart attack, last year, said once, “It is always very sad when a person who still has a lot to offer, dies prematurely.” From here we send our condolences to her relatives, friends, and colleagues.
Zaha received the Prize in 2004 acknowledging the fact that her work has been a great contribution to architecture. Her work, as well as the work of the other laureates, many of them in this room tonight, is celebrated by this Prize as the highest level that architecture has been able to achieve. The sum of their work builds an incredible body of knowledge that I as a student only dreamt – and I’m not saying even to produce – only dreamt, from a distant Chile, just to experience in person and not just through the pictures of the very few magazines that made it to that corner of the world. At the time, we studied architecture in Chile, by looking at pictures and photographs. Pritzker Prize winners for us in the mid-eighties were not architects; they were myths. That is why I did not see this Prize coming at all, not for a second.
It was actually a Saturday morning when I got a text message from Martha Thorne [Executive Director of the Pritzker Architecture Prize]. I don’t work on weekends so under normal circumstances I wouldn’t have responded until the coming Monday, but I was finishing a text for the Venice Biennale and I wanted to get rid of it to be able to enjoy the weekend. Martha’s message coincidentally started like this, “Alejandro, hi! I received a message from the Biennale and need your advice on the matter. Are you available for a brief phone call?” I thought, no, what now! Not another problem to solve. I had so many fronts to take care of for the Biennale. I answered, “Okay, let’s talk now.” The phone rang and she said, “Hi Alejandro, I don’t want to take too much of your time, I have three questions about the Biennale.” Okay. “Would you accept to be the 2016 Pritzker Prize Laureate?” For a couple of seconds, if not for an entire minute, I couldn’t understand what that question had to do with the Biennale. My brain was hitting a wall, I couldn’t make sense out of it, trying to understand the connection which there was not. That is how unexpected it was. When I began to process it, I began to cry. The rush of emotion was just too much. Too much life compressed in an instant. For as much as ten minutes we had a non-conversation over the phone. More than speechless, I was thoughtless. My mind was absolutely useless. I could only feel, not think.
The kids were playing around in the living room and saw me crying. “What happened?” they asked. “Nothing, but it’s a good thing,” I said. I went upstairs, my wife was still sleeping, woke her up and said, “Me gané el Pritzker!” And for one hour or so, we looked at each other speechless, thoughtless. And to tell the truth, I still can’t today. But as days have passed, my feelings began to evolve in three different directions: gratitude, when looking backwards; freedom, when looking into the future; and joy, when in the present.
So I thought a lot about the fact that the ceremony is at the United Nations. What a great place to deliver a message about how architecture can contribute to improve the quality of the built environment and by doing so, correct inequalities and improve people’s quality of life. For looking into the future, there will be time tomorrow here at the U.N. too, when in conversation with previous Pritzker Laureates we will debate about the challenges ahead. So today will be about the present and how I got here, it will be about joy and gratitude.
First of all, I would like to thank the Pritzker family for their vision and understanding that an award may be a powerful tool to influence the development of the built environment in the right direction. You have done this not only with generosity, but also and mainly with quality. You have done it just right. And this is a very powerful contribution to improve people’s quality of life.
I would also like to thank the jury, and I want to think of the words of the citation as a brief, as a navigation chart, a path to follow, more than facts about our work. We will keep your words in our minds.
This prize is for a body of work. And the work in architecture is a collective task. To start with, it is not that I wake up in the morning with an irresistible desire to do, let’s say, an office building. In architecture, somebody has to need something and desire something first. Only then can we start working. Architecture takes a lot of time, a lot of effort, a lot of money and energy, so we are very thankful to all the clients that have trusted us with a great amount of resources, private and public, to translate those needs and desires into buildings.
In our particular case, not only is the starting point outside ourselves, but the ending point too. Many of our projects are not finished by us, but by the families themselves. So we are really thankful to those families that have completed and added their resources, ideas, and dreams to the walls and roofs that we have set only as a frame.
Architecture is about a lot of disciplines coming together concurring with the knowledge and expertise to get a building built. I would not know how to do it on my own and yet an architect has to be able to discriminate among which of the approaches is better than the other. Good will and professional flexibility is crucial to negotiate all the forces pulling in opposite directions in a single building. But in addition we architects do not build our projects with our own hands; we rely on the skills of many crafts, but even more, on the physical strength of workers. To all of them that withstand tough work on the construction site, we’re very grateful as well.
In our particular case at ELEMENTAL, projects, ideas, solutions and visions only appear while thinking out loud in-group. It is a team creative process. This is not just a saying or a politically correct statement. It’s a fact. That is why I believe the partners of ELEMENTAL are as much winners as I am of this Prize; so I would like to ask to stand up — Gonzalo Arteaga, Juan Ignacio Cerda, Victor Oddo and Diego Torres. Each of them is brilliant and could have had their own practice, but chose to stay at ELEMENTAL. Thanks for that.
But we went through hard times; choosing to stay was not evident at all. It meant a decision that involved each of your families. So I want to acknowledge the importance of wives and spouses to have supported our work: Andrea, Isa, Ale, and Sole. Finally, to all the people at the office who may be following this on streaming in Chile: Cristian Martinez, Su Yin Chia, Matias Magnelli, Clemence Pybaro, Pedro Hoffmann, Euge Morales, Francesca Moroni, and all the interns at the office, thank you to you all.
Some of our projects require a dedication and a level of innovation that the market and governments are not willing nor prepared to support. It was in 2005 when after a successful first project in Iquique, the Quinta Monroy, we had seven other projects in different stages of development throughout Chile, some under construction, some still fighting to get building permission, when we ran out of money. For a year we had to work for free, because we couldn’t abandon the families halfway in the process. We had very little to show and even less proof that we would succeed. That is why we are so thankful to the Angelini family, Roberto and Maurizio, who trusted us and had the confidence that we would use architecture to produce a public good. That is when ELEMENTAL became a company, to make our contribution to people’s quality of life a sustainable endeavor. Thank you.
Those who had the idea to contact them were Jorge Bunster, Arturo Natho, and Alejandro Hormann, the last two, here in the room and on our board still today. They still contribute with brains and strategies and financial and administrative questions that I still don’t understand, but that might be correct since we have never needed extra money since 2006.
Before becoming a company, ELEMENTAL was an academic initiative. It all started when I was invited to teach at Harvard, and that was Jorge Silvetti’s call. He may have seen something that not even I myself was able to see. At the time I had just one building built and a book written. I actually arrived at Harvard having no idea about what to teach and eventually used my own ignorance and self-embarrassment as an asset. In a country where 60 percent of what is being built used some kind of subsidy, I had no idea what a subsidy was. It was embarrassing.
When you don’t know about something, there are two possibilities: you study or you partner with somebody who knows. I did the latter. At a dinner party in Cambridge I met a transport engineer who was doing his Masters at the Kennedy School of Government: Andres Iacobelli. He was kind of famous because he combined two attributes that are rarely found together – he was brilliant and he was a nice guy. So the conversation started with him saying, “So, seems that Chilean architecture is doing really well, isn’t it?” And I say, “Well, kind of, yes.” “A lot of awards, eh?” “Yes. A lot of international recognition, eh?” “Yes!” And I was kind of growing in pride about an engineer acknowledging an architect. And he said, “But if Chilean architecture is so good, why is social housing so bad?”
That hurt. But immediately afterwards he proposed, why don’t we do something with social housing? In my architect’s mind, “do something” meant a book, a seminar, an exhibition, and in my wildest dreams, a 1:1 full-scale prototype of a unit. In his engineer’s mind, “do something” meant a company that should start building at least 100 units accepting every single constraint of the existing policy – budget, size, time frame – and prove the market wrong within its own set of rules. That is how ELEMENTAL started as a “Do Tank” and not as a “think tank.”
But I learned many more things from him, like think well about people. If somebody is successful, it’s because he or she did something good, not something wrong. This is not even close to being the prevailing attitude. I don’t know if it’s a Chilean thing or an architect’s thing, but suspicion and envy are so much more common. And this is something that until today is at the very core of the spirit of ELEMENTAL. Don’t waste time fighting or even paying attention to the bitter ones; celebrate and learn from the proactive ones.
Talking about learning, I had the fortune of having very good teachers and very good classmates at the Universidad Católica where I studied architecture. I owe a lot to my professor Fernando Perez. He not only taught me how to think carefully and how to respect the accumulated layers of knowledge of architectural history, balancing how to be humble and self-confident at the same time, in front of that knowledge. He also gave me the first opportunity. He bet on me to do my first ever project: the Mathematics School at the Universidad Católica. Given where I come from, I would have never had the possibility to get any kind of commission if it were not for the blind trust of somebody.
In addition to that, I had to survive university. You may not get this here in the U.S., but at the time I studied in Chile, only one out of four students finished. Nobody survives alone. That’s why my classmates became lifetime friends. Claudio, Alfonso, and Charlie – we encouraged each other, night after sleepless night, working on each other’s projects. Back then I knew collaboration in its most pure and disinterested form.
Making it to the university in the mid-80’s in Chile was very hard. If you didn’t go to a private high school, the chances to study at the university were extremely low. And this is where family made a difference. My parents, Carmen and Gaston, both school teachers, worked extremely hard to allow us – my brother Cayo and my sister Loreto and me – to have the opportunity to study. To pay for education did not leave a lot of money for leisure and entertainment. That is how we learned to take pleasure in very simple things. Playing on the street with whatever may explain why we created such a primitive bond with my childhood friend Coné. Over time, we have become an extended family – Sole, Teo Noé, Simon, Elo – thanks for joining.
So after having moved backwards I would like to come back to the present, which is almost entirely taken by my wife and my children. What I have achieved in architecture has allowed me to pay attention to the other dimensions of life. Instead of developing the professional dimension to unheard, unseen levels, I have been trying all this time just to have a balanced life. Xu, Americo, Malu, and Rita. You are my grounding cable; dedicating a lot of time to our everyday life and ordinary activities is a great antidote to prevent one to be too full with oneself. You have introduced the absolute present in my life. Right here, right now. Niños, ustedes me enseñan cada dia a distinguir lo que importa de lo que no importa. Since you were born, to distinguish what matters and what doesn’t matter in life became self-explanatory. Xu, you have been generous and illuminating. If it was not for you, my life would be poorer and less fun. You have forced me to develop. Thanks to my family, I have dedicated less time to architecture and more time to life.
But to come a bit back to architecture, what we architects model is not bricks or stones or steel or wood, but life itself. Architecture is about giving form to the places where people live. It is not more complicated than that but also not simpler than that. And life ranges from very basic needs to very deep desires, from ordinary activities to extraordinary events, from the self to the collective. So I guess that is why we should have a life in the first place; to know the subject we are trying to host, take care of and enhance, is a must.
Sorry for having taken so long but I guess I was trying selfishly to make this marvelous present moment to last. Thank you very much. Gracias.
From the architect. Stanford University has just completed a transformational campus-wide energy system— replacing a 100% fossil-fuel-based combined heat and power plant with grid-sourced electricity and a first-of-its-kind heat recovery system. Positioning Stanford as a national leader in energy efficiency and carbon reduction, the results are impressive: greenhouse gas emissions are slashed by 68%; fossil fuel use by 65%; and campus-wide water use by 15%. This comprehensive Stanford Energy System Innovation (SESI) initiative will eliminate 150,000 tons of carbon dioxide emissions annually, the equivalent of removing 32,000 cars from the road every year. Expected energy savings to Stanford over 35 years is $425 million.
SESI combines an o site, dedicated solar farm producing 68 megawatts of clean renewable electricity via 150,000 high-eficiency photovoltaic panels; conversion of the heat supply of all buildings from steam to hot water; and an innovative heat recovery loop that captures nearly two-thirds of waste heat generated by the campus cooling system to produce hot water for the heating system. At its heart is a new Central Energy Facility that embodies the latest technological advances in heat recovery. Heated and chilled water is stored in three massive water tanks totaling 12 million gallons. A patented technology developed by Stanford continuously monitors the plant’s equipment, predicts campus energy loads, grid prices and weather, steering the system to optimal efficiency. The automated software also reviews its own performance.
Plan
The 125,614 SF Central Energy Facility is located on the west side of the central campus, just outside the campus core. Its siting respects Olmstead’s original axial campus plan and functions to align the University’s founding and future quads. The energy complex is comprised of ve distinct components: an Entry Court and Administrative/Teaching Facility, which serves as the knuckle between two major plant buildings; the Heat Recovery Chiller (HRC) Plant with its two large cold water storage tanks; the California State O ce of Health Planning and Development (OSHPD) Plant; a service yard; and a new campus- wide, main electrical substation. The massing and arrangement of the various components minimize the overall facility’s impact, with additional visual shielding provided by elegant metal screens. The main entry is on the prominent eastern edge, facing the central campus, while the electrical substation is located on the western edge to minimize its visual presence.
The overall architectural expression is one of lightness, transparency and sustainability to express the facility’s purpose. The Central Energy Facility’s materiality takes its cues from Stanford’s rich collection of historical and contemporary buildings. Stanford’s classic limestone buildings are represented by integrally-colored, board-formed concrete, while weathered CorTen steel accents suggest the terra-cotta tile roofs. Extensive glazing, dark steel columns and polished aluminum establish a contemporary vernacular, while reclaimed wood so fits in the arcades add warmth.
Jean-Paul Viguier et Associés, in partnership with Eiffage and Woodeum, have won the competition for a 57 meter timber tower in the Saint-Jean Belcier district of Bordeaux, France. A tower and two shorter buildings, the 17,000 square meter mixed-use project contains housing, offices, and retail space, and is part of a larger master plan intent on spurring development in the vicinity of the Bordeaux-Saint-Jean railway station. The project name “Hyperion” is a reference to the world’s tallest living tree (a Sequoia sempervirens in Northern California) and emphasizes the proposal’s vanguard use of timber materials.
Courtesy of Jean-Paul Viguier et Associés
The project’s tower element utilizes laminated veneer lumber (LVL) and glulam for a post and beam substructure, it employs cross-laminated timber (CLT) for flooring, and lumber is essential to the facade framework that is also accented with wood. A series of cantilevered balconies shade the main tower from direct sun while simultaneously preserving views. Balcony gardens and green roofs on the adjacent lower structures mitigate light and regulate the project’s climate. The steel and glass elements of the facade embrace thermal glazing for solar protection and insulation.
Courtesy of Jean-Paul Viguier et Associés
Hyperion will adhere to Association for Low Carbon Buildings (BBCA) standards enacted by France in December of last year. The firm hopes that this project will grant more visibility to low carbon, timber building and the practical time-saving measures enabled by these methods. Construction of the project will begin next year and completion is expected in 2019.
From the architect. Inaugurated on 25 April 2016, the new Salerno Maritime Terminal by Zaha Hadid Architects is integral to the city’s urban plan. Begun by Mayor Vincenzo De Luca, now Governor of the Campania Region, and continued under the city’s current Mayor Vincenzo Napoli, the 1993 plan for Salerno targeted the development of essential projects and programs for the social, economic and environmental regeneration of the city. As part of the 1993 plan, Zaha Hadid Architects won the international competition in 2000 to design the new terminal.
Site Plan
Located on the public quay that extends into Salerno’s working harbor and marina, the new maritime terminal continues the city’s relationship with the sea and establishes new links; connecting Salerno’s rich maritime traditions with its historic urban fabric and beyond to the hills that frame the city.
Like an oyster, the terminal’s hard, asymmetric shell protects the softer elements within; sheltering passengers from the intense Mediterranean sun during the popular tourist season.
The new maritime terminal is composed of three primary interlocking components: administration offices for national border controls and shipping lines; the terminal for international ferries and cruise ships from around the world; and the terminal for the local and regional ferries.
The quayside gently rises as passengers approach the terminal from the city, indicating the gradually sloping path of ramps within the building which raise passengers to the embarking level of large ships and ferries. The terminal’s interior arrangement orientates and leads passengers through a sequence of interior spaces that flow into each other and are organized around focal points such as the restaurant and the waiting lounge.
Local and regional ferry commuters move through the terminal quickly, arriving on ground level and ascending via ramps to reach the upper and vessel entrance. Passengers travelling on international ferries and cruise ships are guided seamlessly through check-in, passport, security and customs controls to their ship. Arriving passengers follow a similar progression through the terminal with the inclusion of the luggage reclaim area.
Sections
At night, the glow of the terminal near the harbour entrance will act as a lighthouse to the port, welcoming visitors to the city.
The new terminal operates, both functionally and visually, as a smooth transition between land and sea; a coastal land formation that mediates between solid and liquid. From its terraces and windows, the terminal offers spectacular views of the Amalfi Coast, the Gulf of Salerno and the Cilento. Positano, Capri, Paestum and Pompei are also nearby. The new terminal will greatly improve the accessibility and experience for visitors to the region’s renowned cultural attractions, coastline and countryside.
The new Salerno Maritime Terminal will enable the port of Salerno to increase arrivals of ferry and cruise ships by 500,000 additional passengers each year, which would create up to 2,000 new jobs in the city’s hospitality, services and retail sectors.
As a Japanese immigrant who has spent much of her life in the United States, the architecture of Toshiko Mori occupies an interesting space: on one hand, the material and tectonic culture of Japan is, as she puts it, her “DNA.” On the other hand, her work clearly draws inspiration from the Modernists of 20th century America, and most notably from Mies van der Rohe. In this interview from his “City of Ideas” series, Vladimir Belogolovsky speaks with Mori (his former architecture professor) about materials, details, and the inspiration behind her work.
Vladimir Belogolovsky:You came to the US as a teenager with your parents from Japan in the 1960s. Were you interested in art early on back in Japan or was it something that you discovered already here?
Toshiko Mori: I was already interested in art as a child, always drawing, painting, making sculptures and models. I continued doing that here.
VB:Was this interest in art unrelated to architecture?
TM: Well, thinking back I was also paying attention to traditional buildings, especially to shrines and temples, and gardens in Kyoto where I visited with my aunt and grandmother often. The first time I visited a modern building was when my father took our family from Kobe, where we were living, to see the Hiroshima Peace Center by Kenzo Tange, shortly after it opened. It was very tough to go through the exhibit, but also I remember the impact that the building itself made on me – very simple, but dignifying.
VB:You studied at Cooper Union here in New York at the Art School first and transferred to architecture after meeting Dean John Hejduk. What was it that made you switch?
TM: I was working on a kind of “transformation” project with two other art students. We set out to paint a corridor at the Architecture School, all in white; this was still in the old building with gray walls and all kinds of hodgepodge. The assignment was to transform a space by using a color. Then John Hejduk came while we were on the ladders, busy painting everything in white – the walls, the ceiling… It was spatial and atmospheric. He looked at it; mind you, we didn’t have permission for any of that and he started to laugh. He liked it. That’s how I met him, and then I started looking at the work the architecture students were doing and liked it. So I went to see Hejduk to show him my portfolio. He said, “Oh, now here is someone who can really draw!” [Laughs.] Then I transferred.
VB:You were my very first architecture professor at Cooper Union in the early 1990s and curiously, you introduced me to the Russian Constructivists. However, your own work has very different origins. Could you talk about where you derive your inspiration?
TM: Architecture is multidisciplinary and therefore there are many sources of inspiration. I never dream up in a vacuum. There are so many conditions and constraints. There is a client, site, program, and so on. But aesthetically, my inspiration goes back to Japanese traditional architecture, which has a sense of clarity and tectonics. That’s my DNA.
VB:In one of your interviews, you named architects who influenced you most. One was Togo Murano [1891-1984]. What was it that attracted you to his work, since his architecture did not have a particular distinctive character, right?
TM: Well, that’s exactly right and that’s what is so interesting about him. He was responsive to the context in a very specific way. His architecture is traditional, but he would always transform it in some interesting ways to make the work his own and contemporary. He walked right on the edge between a fantasy and reality. His work is vernacular and contemporary at the same time; he conceptualized his ways to put old right against new in a very subtle and fresh manner.
He has done large projects: a train station, department stores, theaters, and hotels all over Japan, and particularly a well-known Miyako Hotel in Kyoto. I learned about him through my studies as an architect, but I remember going to his buildings as a child.
TM: I spent my adolescent and student years here, so I think it is only natural to relate to the background in which you grow up. My background and the background of most of my professors was American and European Modernism. My references are John Hejduk who graduated from Harvard and as an extension: Walter Gropius, Marcel Breuer, Paul Rudolph, Mies van der Rohe, Frank Lloyd Wright, and of course, Edward Larrabee Barnes for whom I worked right after my graduation from Cooper from 1976 to 1981, when I started my practice. But I like the work of contemporary Japanese architects and subconsciously I am probably influenced, let’s say, atmospherically and in terms of materiality, maybe. I am sympathetic to their work, but I don’t think what I do can be characterized as Japanese architecture. It doesn’t quite fit.
TM: My work is all about the context. Relating the project to the specific site, whether urban or rural, and resolving the materiality of the project is very important to me. I change all the time and I don’t repeat the same style. Every new building is an invention. Every project starts from zero. We never impose any particular style. But I think there is definitely a common thread in our work, even if a project such as our cultural center for Sinthian in Senegal looks completely different from our house in Ghent, New York. They are very different but if you x-ray them, there are commonalities in our approach.
VB:What words and phrases would you choose to describe your work?
TM: Clarity for sure. Clarity of expression. Clarity of a concept. The intention is to make something very simple, which is very difficult to achieve. I like to tackle complex issues by coming up with simple solutions.
VB:Talking about details in architecture you said, “Details is where architecture intersects with reality.” For many architects details are much less important, while forms and ideas are paramount. Could you talk about details in your work?
TM: Details is something where concept, program, technology, engineering, tectonic, materiality, all fuse together. In different projects, we focus on different details. Sometimes a project can be obsessively detailed; sometimes it can be detailed very loosely and informally. There are different ways in how we approach details. The ideas are in the details. Form is a form; it comes and goes, but for me, it is the details that carry ideas and intentions.
VB:So it goes without saying that you never recycle your details from project to project.
TM: Not really. For example, I try to use small steel members spaced at short distances to make an impression as if the building is made of wood. The intention is to make steel buildings appear to be much more delicate than one would expect them to be. I always play with different ideas and how they can affect appearances and perceptions. For example, it may not be apparent, what is structural and what is not. I would call it tectonic interplay.
VB:You are playing with different ways of how to hold the building.
TM: Right. As architects, we always fight against gravity. To pretend that gravity doesn’t exist is not really honest. But we can play with this fundamental fact by creating an illusion of winning over it in various ways.
VB:In other words, your primary question is – how to work against gravity?
TM: Sure, rather than working with forms, we work with forces. And we work collaboratively with engineers from the very beginning. The house in Ghent, which is broken down into several pavilions, presented many such challenges. Not only that we had to resolve each volume structurally and spatially but also how to pin these pavilions to the rocks where they are sited, and make them appear to be floating by hiding the structure underneath. But not directly below, so you can’t see the structure.
The cultural center in Senegal is very different. It is designed parametrically because we tried to come up with the most effective use of structure and local materials, such as bamboo, mud brick, and thatch. Also the idea was to have a building that would have a roof with maximum surface to provide deep shade and collect maximum amount of rainwater. We also needed to catch as much wind as possible to have a constant breeze under the roof. And we wanted to work with what they had and to employ local laborers, not simply bring something already prebuilt. So the building’s form was the result of all these factors, not the other way around. Also the design was influenced by vernacular cylindrical houses they have in the area. You can say that in this project elements of observation were stronger than elements of pure imagination. The main goal was – the residents had to accept this building as their own, and not as a foreign object.
VB:You worked on a number of additions to Modernist houses by Frank Lloyd Wright, Paul Rudolph, and Marcel Breuer. What did you learn from these projects and do you have a particular philosophy about how to engage them?
TM: One idea is that I never imitate anything. It is always a conversation, a dialogue. I try to imagine how these architects would have done their projects if they had the materials and techniques available to us today. But in any case, I usually work in contrast to their work. If the original is solid, my addition might be transparent. If it is dark, mine would be light. And to contrast something that’s grounded, I might elevate my project next to it. So there is always a dialectic relationship and juxtaposition of contrasting ideas. But I will never imitate anything or make something overwhelming. Being an academic, I always try to gather many clues first and I am always very careful with my decisions.
VB:At Harvard, you experimented with students by developing new materials and exploring tactility and fabrication process. Could you talk about that experience?
TM: When I arrived at Harvard in 1995, there was no real culture in terms of materiality in their curriculum. So in early 2000s I introduced a course that was based on such sources as the architectonic course at Cooper Union, teachings by Mies at the IIT, the Bauhaus exercises, and my own interest in textile tectonics. It was a series of lectures and hands-on workshops. I’m first of all a maker, so I like experimenting with materials. We worked on inventing new materials that we called ultramaterials, based on cutting, casting, molding, extruding, weaving, and so on.
In my own work, I recently used membrane materials that were developed specifically for one of my projects, a portable concert hall. New materials can be very empowering. For example, we used membranes that completely absorb the drumming sound of rainwater. Or there are textiles that reflect and distribute sound so well that by utilizing a particular geometry for a performance space it is possible not to use speakers at all because sound can travel well without any amplification. And in our new laboratory building for Novartis in Cambridge, Massachusetts we will have a copper tone fabric embedded into our glass louvers to control the sun and it will also add a warm glow to the interiors.
VB:Would you say there is a particular progression in your work?
TM: Not really. I am not systematic and, as I mentioned earlier, I tend to start from scratch every time. We work intuitively, based on the power of observation and power of imagination. Architecture is becoming more and more complex and a lot of our work is based on research, particularly in the fields of engineering, energy efficiency, human comfort, and so on.
VB:Looking at the contemporary architects whose work do you admire most?
TM: Oh, the next-door guys; I like them! Herzog & de Meuron have their New York office right on our floor. I followed them since my student days. They are very inventive and they don’t do the same thing twice. They don’t impose their style. Every project starts from zero. They do a lot of research. It is all about working with the specifics of each site, program, and other constraints. You can concentrate on using forms and shapes, and progress in perfecting a particular stylistic language, but to me this means you limit so many other possibilities and challenges of architecture that are very different in every project. It is in confronting the specifics that true inventions occur.
Belogolovsky’s column, City of Ideas introduces ArchDaily’s readers to his latest and ongoing conversations with the most innovative architects from around the world. These intimate discussions will be a part of the curator’s upcoming exhibition with the same title to premier at the University of Sydney in June 2016. The City of Ideas exhibition will then travel to venues around the world to explore ever-evolving content and design.
From the architect. The teachers’ houses were designed to attract teachers out to the countryside, as well as to promote the use of earth as a sustainable and durable building material. The houses were realized as a series of adaptable modules, each of comparable size to the traditional round huts typically found in this region. Single modules can be combined in various ways into a larger composite whole. The simplicity of the design and minimal use of bought materials means that it can easily be adopted by the villagers. The six houses for teachers and their families are arranged in a wide arc to the south of the school complex. This curvilinear layout is not only beautiful but is also reminiscent of a traditional Burkinabé compound. The roofs are barrel vaults constructed from stabilized earth blocks. This construction method, previously unheard of in this region, makes use of local resources and is climatically efficient. To protect the building from rising damp, the 40cm thick adobe walls stand on a foundation of cast in-situ cement and granite stones. The villagers produced around 15,000 blocks, each 40x20x10cm, at a rate of between 600 and 1,000 a day.
A tie beam connecting the walls bears the roof load in each module. The roof is a layer of reinforced concrete poured in situ into a permanent shuttering of compressed stabilized earth blocks (CSEBs). The roof heights alternate between 100cm and 150cm, therefore when they overlap a sickle-shaped opening is formed and serves as a means of ventilating the interior and providing daylight. Generous roof overhangs protect the walls from moisture. In traditional Burkinabé houses, a special type of thin loam rendering – mixed with vegetable juice and cow dung – is applied to the outer walls as a protective layer of about 3cm against weathering.
Plan
Unfortunately these components are of little use in the rainy season and attract termites which can eventually destroy the walls. In the teachers’ housing, the traditional organic components of the rendering were replaced with bitumen. The culmination of the building work is the tamping of the clay floor to create a smooth, homogeneous surface. The enthusiastic involvement of the people of Gando was the key to the success of this project. The villagers gained not only new skills but also a sense of responsibility, awareness and sensitivity to both the traditional and the innovative aspects of building.
The After Belonging Agency, the curatorial team behind the 2016 Oslo Architecture Triennale (OAT), have revealed sixteen speakers who will present at the event’s central conference at the Oslo Opera House this coming September. Atelier Bow-Wow, Snøhetta alongside a number of other academics, practitioners and decision-makers will come together to “address architecture’s relation to current pressing questions such as refugeeism, migration and homelessness, new mediated forms of domesticity and foreignness, environmental displacements, tourism, and the technologies and economies of sharing.”
The conference intends to discuss architecture’s role in the contemporary reconfiguration of belonging, and how this process has transformed the notion of residence. “What are the spatial, technical, and sociopolitical consequences of this transformation?”
Speakers will include:
Amale Andraos – Work Architecture Company, Columbia GSAPP
Atelier Bow-Wow
Negar Azimi – Bidoun
Simen Svale Skogsrud, Even Westvang – Bengler
Gro Bonesmo – Space Group, Oslo School of Architecture and Design
Grete Brochman – University of Oslo
Thomas Hylland Eriksen
Per Heggenes – IKEA Foundation
Juan Herreros – Estudio Herreros
Yasmeen Lari – Heritage Foundation of Pakistan
Reinhold Martin – Buell Center for American Architecture, Columbia GSAPP
Ippolito Pestellini Laparelli – OMA
Snøhetta
TYIN Tegnestue Architects
Ann-Sofi Rönnskog, John Palmesino – Territorial Agency
Eyal Weizman – Center for Research Architecture, Goldsmiths
The OAT 2016 Conference, After Belonging, will be held at the Oslo Opera House on September 9, 2016 between 0900 and 1600. You can find out more and register, here.
Zaha Hadid Architects has begun construction on the NürnbergMesse Hall 3C for international exhibition and congress company NürnbergMesse, in Nuremberg, Germany. The design for Hall 3C is a continuation of the design principles from Hall 3A, which was built by Zaha Hadid Architects in 2014.
As a part of the NürnbergMesse exhibition company, Hall 3A connects existing hexagonal grid halls from the 1970s to the rectangular halls at Grosse Strasse. Hall 3C will be modeled in a similar fashion, featuring a trapezoid-shaped and spaning 10,000 square meters.
The inclined roof of the new Hall will drop from 20 to 13 meters in height to provide acoustic benefits, as well as reductions in energy consumption and emissions.
3,000 square meters of glazed façades will enable light to travel deep into the Hall.
Currently, pictures painted by students from local elementary schools on the theme of “Nuremberg—my city” are displayed along the 300 meter fence surrounding Hall 3C’s construction site, in a display of the strong social and economic links with the exhibition center in Nuremberg, which supports around 15,000 full-time jobs per year.
70 million Euros were invested in NürnbergMesse Hall 3C, and it is expected to be completed at the end of 2018.
Sig Nordal 