Category Archives: architecture

Does being a nosy bugger pay dividends?

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I have made several career moves in my life as an architect. Often moved by a genuine desire to expand my knowledge the truth is that these have not always been regarded as wise by my peers. I will let you be the judge of that as you read this post.

Let me start by saying that I became an architect not because of my ability to sketch a house or use perspective at a young age but because my father thought I had talent and cut short my aspirations of becoming a painter or a writer.

‘What do you want to do with your life?’ My father asked me when it was time to apply to University. I replied with a quote from Andre Malraux, ‘life will make something out of me,’ but this is was not quite what my father wanted to hear as the following sketch tries to illustrate.

Not surprisingly my father’s reply was, ‘I think you should study architecture instead while life makes something out of you. Let me know at the end of this academic year how you feel about it,’ and that was the end of our discussion.

Despite my lack of character at the time, when I should have put down my foot and said, ‘no a painter is what I want to be’, today I am happy my father made that decision as I have come to love my profession.

However I have topped up my interest in the visual appeal of a building with an enthusiasm for property development. Seven years ago, while living in London, I decided to further my studies with an MSc in Quantity Surveying. Now if you think studying enriches the spirit, let me tell you that my decision was not well received. My peers thought I was going nuts and a senior colleague even said, ‘why not studying urban planning, why f*cking quantity surveying? Who studies that crap?’

Personally what dazzles me the most, even today, was the fact that none of my colleagues ever thought that studying a completely different subject would broaden my knowledge of what I could do as an architect. No one ever thought I was enhancing my architectural skills with other kinds of tacit knowledge.

In Australia I made a further move, when I decided to leave cost management to work for a contractor my close friends thought I was officially gone nuts and putting my professional career in serious jeopardy. Few ever considered the fact that being directly involved in the process of building would give me great insights about the business of building.

I am indeed passionate about learning and enlarging my knowledge to the extent that I have put my architectural career in jeopardy but shouldn’t we all act like that?

I agree that being a round property professional is not really required to work in consultancy or in contracting. It helps to have an architectural background when acting as a cost manager but nothing else. I am also forced to admit, that my inclination to jump the fence didn’t do wonders to my career progression either. With every ‘jump’ I ended up working with people in positions senior than me you were actually younger than me on the other side of the fence. Not a huge age difference but enough to make them wonder if I was retarded.

It certainly helped when I decided to return to architecture. I have gained valuable experience which was what I needed to give me the confidence to start my own architectural practice. But, out of curiosity, how many of you think I was praised for returning to my roots? Most of my colleagues raised an eyebrow  and asked, ‘how can you be interested in building design when you spent the last seven years of your life working with the financials of property development?’

This time around the only answer that popped to mind was a quote that is not even mine … ‘I was born this way.’

The minimalism of John Pawson exposed

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‘Less is more’, the famous sentence from Mies van Der Rohe, is more than a quotation – it is a lifestyle. John Pawson is a contemporary architect whose designs are a true reflection of this concept.

I studied his architecture from magazines as most of his work are often private commissions, until the London Open House made one of his houses open to the public.

The private house I had the privilege to see was not far from London Bridge. It was rather shy on the outside but the interior design showcased plenty of Pawson’s ideas.

Of the various ideas one was the exclusion of skirtings from the design. Skirtings can be seen as an architectural ornament rather than a requirement. The design simply didn’t allow for the superfluous, but the final result in my view was an underachievement. It often looks well in magazines as the camera captures everything in straight lines but the truth is that the in loco experience yields a completely different picture. The finishes or the workmanship was far from being perfect. The timber meets the wall but in a broken line. I personally don’t think the Pawson’s architectural practice was unlucky with the contractor. It is just difficult, if not impossible, to lay a timber flooring trimmed to perfection. And even if momentously managed, the timber will still contract and expand with the seasons.

Obviously skirtings are not mere ornamental features. Skirtings are also an architectural solution. A simple and effective way to make look good what can hardly be perfect. This was only made clear to me during my Pawson’s experience.

I admit that visiting the house and walk through almost empty spaces was appealing to my architectural senses, but when by accident I opened one storage room, I couldn’t believe the amount of stuff that had been chucked in there or had been hidden away. Had all these accessories been incorporated with the house’s minimalism design I suspect it would result in a rather confusing style, if not disturbing.

And so, during the London Open House weekend, I changed my perception about minimalism in architecture. Less is more, but with moderation.

Seoul, a city with a special soul – part 1

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In 2010 I did a stop over in Seoul on my way to London. As usual my intention was to explore the city’s architecture. Friends had warned me Seoul would be a boring place to visit, but they were proved wrong.

I landed in Seoul with a hotel room booked but no idea how to get there. I expected people to be fluent in English, at least the city’s youth, but they weren’t. A young lady at the airport information desk, after a few phone calls, wrote a number of Korean lines on a piece of paper and explained to me, ‘show this line to the officer outside the airport,’ ‘show this line to the driver,’ and so forth. This was not what I had in mind but it worked.

During the bus trip to the hotel, the image of Seoul through my window didn’t appeal to me.

Luckily my friend Alex was a local and happy to take me on a city tour. I met her the following day. We started the day with a lunch at an Italian restaurant. The interior design was quite modern. This was a good example how architectural design travels fast these days as within the premises I could well think I was eating in London, LA or Sydney.

After lunch Alex took me to a venue called O’sulloc Tea House.

O’sulloc Tea House is a modern three storey venue that delivers a fantastic green tea experience. The interior design uses timber has the main leitmotiv which helps to increase the intensity of the tea. I tried a green tea cocktail and later on an employee, with a strong English accent, gave me a lecture on the subtleties of Korean green tea. The amazing thing about the tea house, is that I entered the building knowing zip about green tea and left versatile in the subject.

Late afternoon I did some shopping in an area known as Dongdaemun. The “Dongdaemun design plaza and park” building centre, designed by Zaha Hadid, was under construction. I tried to see beyond the fence but the building was just a hole in the ground at the time.

I met Alex in the evening in a trendy part of Seoul. We had a coffee experience, followed by a promenade to find a place to eat and a random walk in a busy district during the night. Some of the clubs were totally opened to the main road, often all levels. It seemed to me a smart design solution as it replaced a bricks and mortar facade with a livable and vibrant atmosphere.

I returned to the hotel thinking Seoul had so far been an interested experience… but the best was yet to come.

Seoul, a city with a special soul – part 2

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The following day Alex brought a friend with her and together we went to a restaurant called Gilmotungee Chiilie Chacha.

Gilmotungee Chiilie Chacha is a small restaurant. It can only accommodate four couples and one group at any given time. I am unsure whether the food served was traditional Korean but it did not matter as it was simply delicious.

The chef and owner was a middle aged man. I believe the ratio of customer satisfaction per customer served at his restaurant was probably the very best but we are talking about four or five couples served during peak hour. His reputation could travel far but not his revenue as he was unable to serve many people… so why bother?

Later on, when we went to Alex’s favourite cafeteria, a business operating under a staircase that could hardly fit more than three customers at the time, I noticed the barrister breathing his soul into the creation of a coffee experience. I wondered, why so much dedication when a hand full of customers would make his place look busy.

‘So much care and attention, are these people crazy?’ I asked Alex but she was unable to articulate an answer, probably confused by my awkward observation.

After lunch and coffee we rumoured an area of Seoul known as Hongdae. If I wasn’t already secretly in love with Seoul I think Hongdae did the final job.

Architecturally the area isn’t appealing. However, during our random walk, quite often I would come across a retail shop or venue and be surprised with the inside.

The greyish and dirty look of the streets stood in strong contrast to the colour, character and creativity flourishing from within these spaces. Every premise I entered was like stepping into another world. As if the owners had continuously rethought the process of crafting a space to perfection. The end result was often a lesson in interior design.

I think nothing can describe Seoul better than these small worlds of intense experiences. In my post about China I wrote that working passionately does pay dividends but in Seoul I learned it can also inspire other people.

These two posts, part 1 and 2, may well read as a set of loose memories assembled together. Glued by the simple thought that Seoul may look boring and dull at first glance but it is no doubt beautiful within.

The Bei Lin Museum in Xi’an and one of the most important lessons of my life

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In the summer of 2000 I became a registered architect. At the time I had only used half of my scholarship from the Research Council of Norway and keen to study further I enrolled in an architectural course hosted by the Xi’an University of Architecture and Technology, in Xi’an, China (via my Norwegian University). Little did I know the course would yield one of the most important lessons of my life.

The course assignment was to design an extension to the Bei Lin Museum in Xi’an. The existing building is a typical example of Chinese vernacular architecture. My approach was simple. I would not speak about the poetics of architecture, but rather design a practical building, as beautiful as I could, that would speak for itself.

As the course I was enrolling would make no contribution to my architectural degree, I decided to design the building in my own style, instead of trying to please my lecturers as I had done throughout my entire life at University.

For the first time in my life I worked passionately on my project.

When the presentation day arrived I was asked to do a brief introduction of my project to my colleagues and five lecturers, which I did it with great enthusiasm. ‘Thanks for listening, any questions?’ I said upon reaching the end. My lecturers questions were forthcoming.

‘Where is the main entrance?’ was their first question. I may have shown disdain when I answered as I thought it was quite obvious. However their following comment was something to worry about, ‘I don’t like it,’ and from that moment on, regardless of my arguments, my project was simply destroyed.

When the hammering was finished I left the room in shame.

During the night I avoided meeting my colleagues and went out with Norwegian friends instead. My colleagues in a sign of support found my whereabouts and joined the same venue. I was truly disturbed and not in a mood for talking and their presence didn’t really help to heal my discontentment.

For my colleagues my project was faulty since the lecturers knew better. Unfortunately I don’t have the means to prove them wrong. Surprisingly, the lecturers didn’t fail me. They were clearly just upset with something. It wasn’t lack of work as I had never worked so hard. Even today when I revisit my project I often think I did a good job trying to emulate professional architecture when I had no tacit experience as a student.

I think the real question here is if I did the right thing “sticking to my guns” considering the outcome. It was a bitter experience to work like a perfectionist and be awarded with a “just about” mark. By working passionately I came to understand that passion makes even the most mundane task seem interesting, but it doesn’t mean the feeling is contagious and your peers will share the enthusiasm.

But one thing is clear to me, if I had approached the course like so many times before I would just do well and forget about it later on; and when I think about all the buildings I have designed at the University, the Bei Lin Museum is the only one that I would be able to redraw, almost every single line, without seeing an original drawing. I can only assume that it was my passionate working attitude that glued my ideas, even the concept, to my mind.

Working passionately does pay dividends regardless of the outcome.

The fins of the Sydney Opera House

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I visited the Sydney Opera House for the first time in 2008. At the time I was a tourist in Sydney.

It is pointless to write about how iconic the building is for Sydney or even Australia. For most Sydneysiders it is impossible to imagine the city without it. The fins are architectural celebrities and as such much has been written about them. In total we are talking about eight fins in the main building and two in the visitors centre.

Seen from afar the fins are beautiful, however when I approached the Opera House to touch them my initial reaction was, ‘how archaic’. To my surprise the fins were erected in concrete and the white finish is achieved with ceramic tiles. To view a few detailed pictures use this link.

As I studied the fins closely I had flashbacks of seeing colossal structures erected in concrete in countries without the know-how or the craftsmanship to erect high-tech buildings.

However, dazzled at the time, I came to realize another thing. These fins were probably not easy to build at the time of their conception. What is fascinating to acknowledge, is that although we, as humans, had landed on the moon in the 60s, advances in architecture as we are used to see these days, the Guggenheim in Bilbao being a good example, are recent architectural achievements.

In a previous post, “form follows the money”, I have put forward that the construction of buildings is driven by the clients budget, and few are the clients that gamble with their money. This may help to clarify why progress in the constructing industry has been so risk adverse and only recently, with the advent of having public money financing grandeur architecture, did architectural design became the means to elevate the sex appeal of a city.

In that sense, when I rethink the fins of the Sydney Opera House and what was achievable at the time, I am no longer surprised why the construction was the disaster we all know about. The end result is an iconic building that survived the test of time and added character to the city of Sydney.

‘There is more to the fins of the Opera House than meet the eye’, is probably a rightful observation to make.

Who thinks the Guggenheim (in Bilbao) is a good place to display Art?

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I definitely don’t think it is and I’ll tell you why.

I visited the Guggenheim when I was still a student of Architecture; and like many architect students I was dazzled by the building. Its form may seem straight out of a two years old sketch. But what is truly amazing is the fact that the team behind it had the guts to build it.

These days this is no longer the sort of architecture I try to emulate as most of the #onyourface effect has faded away and I tend to appreciate designs that endure well with time and are designed for a low maintenance budget… but let’s try not to divert from the main question, is the Guggenheim a good place to display art?

Personal experience tells me no.

The building provided the city of Bilbao with a world class exhibition centre, but who remembers the art displayed in there?

The Guggenheim was running a show of Richard Serra at the time of my visit. His colossal-bended-metal-sheets worked well with the Architecture, but I think if the room had been a little squarer, the artist would have looked more interesting.

My impression was that visitors were more interested in the funky ceilings than what the artist had to say. Rather than uplifting the artist’s work, as an exposition centre should do, I personally think Richard Serra’s work was asphyxiated by the Architecture.

Unless, and I may have missed the point here, the Guggenheim is a piece of art in itself and whoever display at the centre only acts as mere décor to the magnitude of the building.