Quote:
Originally Posted by Ch.G, Ch.G
Screed against capitalism and the wealthy aside (aren't the modest, urban Japanese houses equally "guilty" of a lack of "denying entry," too?), you raise a good point: the experience of the passerby is an important component. But isn't this an even greater indictment of architecture that disrespects its context and those experiencers? And, anyway, it is only a component of a building's function; we judge on the whole, lest we reduce architecture to carefully staged photographs.
(Also, for every "elitist" villa posted here there is a public, cultural institution. My initial post was in response to the Zaha-gasm of museums and courts and pools.)
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my point was how I was raising my hand as guilty of judging the book by its cover, due to circumstance (more often than not I'm not allowed to open the book).
Yes, every house is exclusive to its owners, even in Japan, but the kind of neo-moderne we're seeing nowadays is exclusive by dint of design rather than circumstance - the average joes doesn't have the money for minimalist lifestyle, huge windows and views. Its not that he can't go inside, but rather that he can't afford to build it for himself.
This is how architecture fundamentally can be more exclusive than inclusive, having its ideals of openness and democracy on one hand, whilst constructing a strong 'coffee-book' vein of impractical and unreachable goals with the other. If it is to be admired for its results, then at least they shouldnt try to throw a hypothesis on us, of abstract ideas of inclusiveness and that smacks of blatant marketing. Rather sell it for what it is - luxury showcasing of 'perfection' and design, -not liveability, not accessability, not functionalism, and not democracy. It's no wonder these places cost the earth to build and are enjoyed by the richest.
The ones that
are open to the public often prove unworkable, and definitely out of context with its ideals (not to mention alot cheaper pound for pound). Check out the multiple award winning '
Idea Store' (read: library) that 'regenerated' a deprived area of London by David Adjaye 2006 (I used to live near there). The interior no longer looks sleek and minimalist, rather it is messy and decidedly cheap looking as a result, with harrassed looking staff cleaning up and putting away endlessly, especially the lower floor that resembles a shredded DVD mart. Its one thing designing a sleek palace of 'functionalism', its another looking at the reality of tatty books, stacks of CDs on sale and buckets of DVDs. Not to mention screaming children filling the shelves, alcoves and floor.
The huge plate windows (heavily fingerprinted) prove boiling in summer and freezing in winter, by night they turn into vast sheets of depressingly black views of nothingness. The ground breaking, 'inclusive' idea to have part of the building overshadow the street, and the entrance escalators come straight off the pavements outside (in order to 'perforate the street / building division') has proved unworkable. The escalators have been switched off, the doors closed and a security guard posted at them due to stalkers and thieves. Even then it still continues to win awards for its humanitarian ideals, just a shame the reality for those working and using the place inside is very different.
In short what looks good on paper, and in photos is not what works in reality. If I were to judge this building favourably, it would be on its superficial standing rather than its workings.
Nice idea, but imagine the place dog eared and despondent, the few people in it looking as tired as the strip lighting. Needless to say the local community has shunned this place, much preferring the supermarket behind, and leaving the cafe for the few middle class pioneers.
Compare that to
Peckham Library by Will Alsopp, 1999, much in the same vein much more successful. Also a deprived area of London (I also used to live in), the building is decidedly not 'functionale' but idiosyncratic:
Inside works much better - pods for privacy, interviews and workshops - and the background space for humanity's messing. When I lived here I would visit this place for books, computers, DVDs, local information and workshops, from stone carving to careers advice. The place was a favourite for schoolkids in after class community sessions.