archiTEXTBlog

OSLO: Snohetta's Jewel in the Scandinavian Crown

My mind still hasn’t stopped buzzing from the absolute awe of seeing the Oslo Opera House, designed by award winning Norwegian architecture firm, Snohetta.

I spent the last three days touring Oslo on a trip organized by the Norwegian Consulate and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs which brought five of us in the world of Canadian architecture - critics, directors of architecture schools, professors, and thinkers - to do a cultural exchange. On a programmed schedule we were ushered through Oslo seeing the architectural gems, meeting the best of the best in Norwegian architecture, meeting writers and critics, visiting the school of architecture, and having conversations - fascinating conversations - about the culture of architecture in Norway.

Each day was a diverse sampling of the architectural activities of Oslo. Our fist day started at the planning office of the city getting an understanding of the contentious waterfront development that now - seemingly catalyzed by the international success of the Opera House - giving us an understanding of the massive (and ambitious) long-term planning that the city is doing for the eleven kilometeres of their waterfront. Oddly enough, and amazingly enough, it is reminiscent of Toronto’s continual waterfront struggle, and makes you realize that it’s a struggle that all waterfront cities - whether it be a fjord, a lake, or an ocean, are dealing with how to best provide access for the public to these places, while still allowing them to fulfill their purpose and maintain the integrity of the nature. Understanding the ideology of the way architecture is built in the country, with architectural organization Norsk Form explaining the upcoming Action for Architecture agreement (being released at the end of August)- the first policy of it’s kind for the wealthy country of five million people - that will have an immense impact presumably on the way that buildings should (or should not for that matter) be constructed in the country, adding a layer of sustainability to each considered project. This was further elaborated on at the National Association of Norwegian Architects as well as at Oslo’s architecture school.

What enamored me most was the bold architectural statements that Norway makes room for in its built environment. Visiting Jensen and Skodvin’s Mortensrud Kirke - a stunning religious space that uses piled rock to create a mystical atmosphere wtihin the walls of the church - designed out of limitations, was phenomenal. Borre Skodvin (also the Head of the Institute of Architecture at AHO - The Oslo School of Architecture and Design) along with his colleague, Jan Olav Jensen further elaborated on the experience of building a religious building, and the politics around it.

What floored me most (as one can probably tell) was the Snohetta experience. We were fortunate enough to have Snohetta’s Tarald Lundevall, senior architect on the project, walk us not only over the 20,000 square foot public space on the roof of the building, but in and around the entire interior, explaining their decision to force a horizontal monumentality that set itself apart from today’s movement towards the vertical representation of it. Snohetta gears their efforts more towards the process, and as a result, comes out with a product that speaks to near perfection. The opera house, by 10 am on a weekday has a lineup of children, students, adults, seniors, waiting to get in to simply be in the space. On a weekend, the rooftop is amassed with hundreds of visitors walking its slightly textured marble surface. Concerts of 7000 are held on the surface of the opera house, and not once since it has been open to the public since April 2008, have there been attempts at vandalism on its pristine white surface.

That speaks to the respect that the community has garnered for this space - because even in its pristine splendor, it is accessible - to the entire population. The amazing power architecture wields is perfectly exemplified by spending an hour in and around this building, its again, one of those truly transformative spaces.

Snohetta is interesting in that they have won awards ranging from the Mies Vaner Rohe 2009 award to the Aga Khan Award for Architecture for Biblioteca Alexandria and are currently building high profie projects such as the WTC Memorial Museum in New York City as well as King Abdulaziz of Saudi Arabia’s Center for Knowledge and Culture, but yet their humility and their thoughtfulness remains intact. In touring their current exhibition of their work at the National Museum of Art, Architecture, and Design with Senior Snohetta architect, SImon Ewings, he beautifully articulated their meticulous design process, elaborating on the room full of stunning products of playful experiments with material, form, symbolism and texture.

You can’t help but reflect on your personal design process when inundated with so many iterations of theirs, and aspire to draw in the same patience and thoughtfulness into every project that you take on.

Clearly aware of the need to communicate these elements of their process, Snohetta included a few principles guiding their outputs:

EXAMPLES OF ATTITUDE RATHER THAN DESIGN.
ASSOCIATIVE RATHER THAN SYMBOLIC.
COMMENTS RATHER THAN STATEMENTS.

The opera house lies right in the center of the industrial port, in the center of what presumably will be a developed, mixed use waterfront by 2020. However with the symbolic proof of the possibility of what great architecture can do, I would keep a close eye on the Oslo harborfront in the upcoming years, as it seems that the lessons of the Opera House may perhaps translate into something spectacular (a unique forecast for an urban waterfront!).

-ZE

DUBAI, UNITED ARAB EMIRATES: Which of these things doesn't belong?

A pickup truck. A call to prayer. A drum circle. A skyscraper.

Which one of these things doesn’t belong?

The only possible way of describing this iteration of an adult’s theme park is to constantly stop yourself in every situation you can, and remind yourself of what you are doing.

“I am standing inside of a mall watching people ski indoors in the middle of the desert, drinking a Starbucks latte…and someone just threw a snowball at me.”

The newborn metropolis is a sea of newly made art-deco skyscrapers, all reminiscent of 1980’s office towers that stud the skylines of every major city in North America. Amidst them, the 636 meter rifle-esque Burj Dubai, almost completed, soaring above the sea of cranes that sit idle atop almost every building. Walking is next to impossible in the desert heat of the summer, and pedestrian infrastructure might as well be non-existent. Of course, the Burj al-arab sticks out of the skyline and is without argument, breathtaking. However, it is trumped by the unsettling silence of the graveyard of projects that lay in a sea amongst it. 14 lane highways give way to small, unmarked streets, with no addresses, and idling SUV’s waiting for take out orders to be brought out to their car. In some ways, Dubai is paradise, and in others, it is an exaggerated symbol of everything that is wrong with the world - from environmental issues to financial mismanagement.

Of course, with all of the construction in such a short amount of time, there are elements of it - although their use, and social responsibility a contentious issue - that are quite remarkable. The various souks - mazes of shopping delights, along with Madinat Jumeirah, just one of the pre-fabricated “villages” where visitors are taken from establishment to establishment via boat that floats along the man-made river that constitutes the center of the elaborate resort. Everything is new, the biggest, the only one, the first, or the best of its kind.

What might be most bizarre is the ease of finding comfort. Whatever experience you’d like to have - whatever makes you feel most at home - whether it is a Starbucks and a free skate, or an Irish pub after a long day on the ski hill - you can find.

And if you can’t, it’s probably coming soon.
-ZE

INDIA PART VI: Mumbai - An Absence of Roadside Farm Animals.

After a trip to south India (Kerala), a siesta in Kochi, and a glorious escape from an ashram in the Thiruvananthapuram jungle, arriving back into the closest thing to civilization that we had seen in a while was a welcome surprise. Most people say that Mumbai is the closest thing to Los Angeles that you’ll find in India, and I absolutely refuse to even draw that comparison.

Mumbai is an Indian anomaly - while carrying cultural similarities - architecturally is fascinating in that it boasts stunning homes and streetscapes; well maintained architecture, with slums and makeshift homes bleeding through the spaces between.

-ZE

INDIA PART V: Ahmedabad - Corb, Bucky, and Lou have done it again.

Any fan of the modernists should absolutely take a day trip to Ahemedabad, not only home to some of the most stunning lattice-work in the world, but also served as the playground for Le Corbusier, Buckminster Fuller, and Louis Kahn.

Gujarat wasn’t originally on the list for the research trip, but after leaving Dhaka, on a strong reccomendation, we rerouted and planned a short trip to this architectural gem.

Our first stop was Le Corbusier’s Sarabhai house. We were informed beforehand, that the house is situated in an urban paradise, in an anomalous, lush green space in the center of the city. The approach to the house is equally as stunning as the home itself, with the winding red dirt road, with peacocks running back and forth frantically across the street and disappearing over the walls of the private homes, and huge palm trees and various tropical-esque vegetation lining both sides. The house itself is a discrete, door-less concrete and brick structure from the outside, that truly unfolds its splendor as it is experienced, Le Corbusier built several homes in India, this one in particular a fantastic experiment in creating a space that welcomes the outside, while preserving privacy for the homeowners. What I always find interesting about visiting great pieces of architecture is that very often, the architect’s spirit (should they be visited posthumously) is still quite present in the building, and I often find it quite bizarre how strong this presence is in homes that famous architects build. Not only is every inch of the home covered in stunning pieces of art, but also pictures of Le Corb in the process of the design, thus adding to the his eerily overwhelming presence in the space. What is it about homes that seem like practice runs for larger projects for architects? The Sarabhai villa is very much a thoughtful experiment with Le Corb’s old and new ideas. I always just find it difficult to accept that famous architects could handle smaller scale projects such as homes, and find it quite inspiring how responsive they are to unique needs of families. It’s impossible to describe the tranquility of this home, and the amazing ability Le Corbusier has to manipulate cold, seemingly unresponsive materials to create warm, inviting spaces to house the intimate and personal moments of a small family.

On the other side of the city is Louis Kahn’s Indian Institute of Managment - a structure carrying strikingly similar features to the Parliament Building in Dhaka - and the trademark Kahn detailing and scale.

As hard as I try, I find it immensely difficult to be objective about Lou Kahn’s work.

I think it’s all fantastic.

The reason is this. It’s not that each building he builds exemplifies a perfect response to form and function or program and innovation, but rather that his process was so unique to each client, and somehow while taking heed of their needs, still managed to distinctively create a powerful style: massive scale and heavy materials that create thoughtful and intimate spaces.

What I find most compelling though is his presence in every work that he created. More so than any other architect, Lou’s first and most everlasting love (and most academics who study him will say this) was his architecture, giving so much of himself to the understanding of the client’s needs and therefore creating space where every inch is a deliberate and useful gesture.

Seeing each of his buildings feels as much like experiencing a great space as it does spending time with the man himself.

-ZE

INDIA PART IV: Udaipur - "Venice in a Sari"

(Quote from Andrew Bain of the Sydney Morning Herald)

Udaipur is an unexpected treat. For those who know how fantastic it is going into it, it lives up to expectations, and for those (like myself) who unknowingly got off of a camel, into a car, and off to my next destination that I knew little about - Udaipur came as an incredibly pleasant surprise after just over a week in both very touristy and very uncomfortable cities in Northwest India.

Perhaps it was the six hour drive (and desperately wanting out of the car), or perhaps it was the West Coaster in me (I see water and am at ease), that made me feel immediately at home in Udaipur. The road, a long,dangerous (only because of the way people drive in India, with one lane going each way and drivers going into oncoming traffic with sixteen wheelers) winding road through the hills - a cross between the drive from Vancouver to Whistler and the Grand Corniche in France - is absolutely stunning. As you approach the coastline, the city’s palaces start to unfold as you wind along the boardwalk. It truly is a city of romance and whimsy; the convoluted roads wind uphill and downhill, with sharp bends (and of course, farm animals on every corner) and the narrow streets offer the visitor a fantastic adventure on foot .

Navigating this city by foot truly allows the visitor to interact with the architecture in a totally different way. Where buildings overlap, you find yourself walking on parts of buildings you wouldn’t otherwise, and using the orphan spaces in between them in ways that you are not accustomed to Buildings in this city grow out of each other. Unlike Delhi, the haphazard amalgamations of buildings piling up and winding around each other creates some sort of backwards architectural symmetry, where it is only expected that each building has three more cantilevered or protruding out of it. While the city is also very much a tourist destination, the architecture keeps tourists in awe enough, that the city actually seems quite quiet. Rooftop terraces dot the coastline, looking over the various palaces that sit on top of hills and in the middle of the water.

What’s so lovely about this city is that spaces are used creatively. The areas created by the spaces between buildings are converted so thoughtfully, and used with an effortless grace, in a way that is entirely unique to this part of India.

Many visitors to Udaipur engage with historical architecture directly by staying in havelis - old mansions with traditional indoor and outdoor courtyards - that allow for a relatively authentic experience of traditional Mughal architecture. A haveli feels much like an oasis, and you really start to understand the climatic considerations that architecture in regions with extreme climates have to take into account - and far before the green technologies of today - were simply intuitive.

-ZE

INDIA PART III: Rajasthan - And you thought archiTEXT liked pink...

One of India’s greatest charms is the fact that it is a chameleon. Much like most countries in the world (Canada included) but exaggerated exponentially, is that each state feels like a different country. After falling asleep in the car en route from Delhi, I awoke to see a topography that i hadn’t yet seen in India: large, reddish-pink hills providing a sneak peek of the upcoming “pink city” of Jaipur - the third point in India’s “Golden Triangle” - that we were headed towards.

Most students of architecture and planning have studied the Pink City, as it was the first planned city in India. With its grid-like streets, and well-manicured green spaces - Jaipur is a fascinating and stunning place, with an energy unto itself. Driving along the fortress walls into the city, the colors of the state come alive. It really was this part of India where everything seemed almost technicolor.

What is most amazing is the use of public space in this city. The green spaces (generally around the forts), in the daytime, are packed with families - children of all ages - using them to do a variety of activities. It seems like one of the few places in India where you see an abundance of play in a public space. Perhaps I’m mistaken (and perhaps I haven’t seen enough of India), but it seems that the activities that happen in public spaces all over the country are less about space and more about the uses of these spaces as a means to an end. What resonated with me was this idea of play in public space, and how abundant (and thinking about it, what a luxury it is) it is in most parts of North America. I thought specifically major cities like Toronto, Vancouver, Montreal, New York, Boston, Seattle, etc. and how the word crosses my mind on a regular basis when I am in those places, and how I had not once thought about the idea of play since arriving in India.

PUSHKAR

Architecturally, Pushkar (the desert city) leaves a lot to be desired. I will pass along one piece of advice for those who want to visit the city: beware of the “camel safari”.

That’s all I’m going to say.

(That is, unless you like being paraded through a construction site to a remarkably green “desert” on a camel and being stoned by small children!)

-ZE