|
Over the past coupe of months, I have read numerous articles on the ideals and inspiration behind museum and public gallery architecture. There is something very soothing about meandering through the realms of a gallery, musing over an artist or sinking deep into the historical wonderment of a museum display that draws the public in. It is also a fine example of the architects work, for the best buildings and internal spaces are credited to their designers by the simplicity that evokes natural feeling towards the painting of artefact and not the structure that surrounds.
The $300 million renovation of the Modern Wing of the Art Institute of Chicago was opened this year by its Architect, Reno Piano. This new addition to the Institute was designed to bring some grandeur back to America’s second city, once considered the capital of architecture by some. The city hoped that the extension of the Art Institute would breath life back into the architectural culture of the city, yet it seems to have failed on many levels, providing no one point of ‘wow’ architecture to be noted or even slipping into the category of being a structure of contention, that eventually becomes adored and admired by its viewers.
So, how is it done? How do places such as the Met, the Tate Modern and the Guggenheim do it? What is it that their architects have created that is so admired by the art world and the public alike? And, what do museums, galleries and public art buildings need to create architecturally, that some examples have missed out on previously.
Answer by Ian Moores: ARK Design & Architecture Ltd
On a recent visit to Frank Lloyd Wright’s Guggenheim in New York I spent most of my time soaking in the spatial arrangements and trying to figure out how the whole thing goes together. For those not familiar with arguably “Frank’s finest”, the building is defined by a spiral walkway which ascends with varying radii, and off which side galleries are stacked until you get right to the top (which is quite scary because the guarding is so low!). What always seemed to me like a very simple concept on plan appears much more intricate and cleverly interconnected in 3 dimensional reality. Watching people winding their way through the spaces was fascinating, most were clearly there to view the exhibition and were navigating their way around in an “onwards and upwards” fashion, without too much attention to the architecture. They were however definitely experiencing the building in a very real and intimate way. The route and procession through the building becomes almost like a river, the flow of people carries a momentum as they divert off to the still waters of the side gallery before again rejoining the flow.
In a follow up visit to Sanaa’s Museum of Contemporary Art I realised just how vital the idea of movement and direction is in this kind of public building. The gallery is organised vertically (like the Guggenheim) but without the interconnecting device or open atrium. Instead an enclosed lift and stair link the floors, which are otherwise disconnected. The effect is that the momentum is lost, and the experience seems prematurely terminated.
The question then arises; in creating drama and kinetic energy should museums and galleries be concerned that they are upstaging their art or exhibits? This need not be an issue or lead to an understated approach; buildings which include breathtaking spatial arrangements do not necessarily undermine their own neutrality. The most successful examples seem to be there in the background regulating, guiding and letting you know how much more is to come. Legibility and simplicity are both key ingredients and allow the building the latitude for self expression without stealing the show.
I don’t know whether it could be termed a cultural renaissance, but since major galleries and museums dropped the entry fee, visitor numbers are at an all time high. The economic climate means that more people than ever are looking for an inexpensive day out, and in turn are experiencing good, if not great, architecture. Long may it continue.
Answer by Jim Dunster
If there was a manual that described how to design a ‘Wow ‘public space it would have to show that the wow to grandeur rating index is a complex beast that has always meant it ain’t easy being an architect.
Poor Renzo, Rogers and the many whose varied hit rates in the fickle world of public architecture, have enjoyed both high praise and ritual humiliation for their efforts in the public realm.
Did Renzo spend enough time in Chicago, did he make plenty of return visits to the site and watch the sun rise and set and see how people moved through this part of the city or was it a plan mark up with highlighters in the bar round the corner ? We may never know and if architecture was a precise science that allowed us to accurately predict public approval ratings and the way people actually use spaces perhaps the task of designing public buildings would be less risky.
I walk past the National Gallery extension every day and am routinely unimpressed by the dull risk aversitechiture that came about when our favourite prince first threw his architectural toys out of the pram. Was it better to have tried and failed than to have built something this un-inspiring?
People's perception of spaces and places can change dramatically over time but if the building fails to engage with people or set up a dialogue with its users the yellow card is probably justified. Does the building have heroic spaces that conceal or lead to spaces that are more intimate. Does it challenge or intrigue the spectator allowing intellectual engagement at various levels? Is it a celebration of the technical prowess and craftsmanship of the age without being cheap fashionable, gimmicky or bland? Does it show the confidence of a civilization striving towards a sustainable future or is it an indulgent value engineered compromise that fails to score on one or all of these accounts with the resulting public disaffection that follows?
Tate Modern succeeds precisely because it ticks the majority of these boxes. The ground floor of the generator hall is an extension of the river towpath that draws people into the building with the promise of visual reward. The entrance is understated but it works and once in the building you are enticed up and into the gallery spaces without institutional aplomb. Herzog’s architecture comes from a richer thought process and engages with the user as result.
In the bland new world of design by render and value propositions we need to be sure that the content is there or the wow will be woeful and we all suffer the consequences.
|
Digg
Del.icio.us
Facebook
Reddit
Technorati
StumbleUpon
Google
Yahoo!
